Grover’s CornerFiction by Grover |
The spirits of swirling sparks and lights seemed to be her only ally and although the dark clouds and thunder above threatened...
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional As always my thanks go out to Hope and Holly for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Paula who for some reason puts up me and my insane ranting about story ideas, Thanks Love! Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Sometime back I wrote a story based on our cat. My loved one challenged me that since I had written one about the cat, it was the dog's turn. Well, here is my best shot at it, Enjoy!
‘What's that? Is it a threat?’ Delta wondered as she relentlessly sniffed about for trouble. The Man just stood there, oblivious to it all. Didn't he know everything brought hurts and harm? There were just so many; the others who steal your food, the hand that hurts, the thunder that rips and tears. How could he not know and fear?
Confidently, the Man took her leash and led her to the Home. While she fretted about the dangers that lay in wait all about, he walked with a measured confident stride that slowly eased her fears.
Soon enough, they got to safety of the Home. When they entered, the Man gave her food and water which she went after with gusto. This home was good. The Man was a good pack leader, and he always had plenty of food. She was allowed to stay inside, instead of like the 'bad place' where the cold, wind and rain could bite deep.
Carefully, she kept the Man within her sight as he went about his unknowable tasks, but she still stayed alert to the sounds and scents all around them, ready to give warning if anything threatened. The time came when she had to go, and she licked his hand to let him know. The Man didn’t react in anger unlike the one in the ‘bad place.’ Understanding her message, he got out the leather leash and together they went outside.
Delta knew that danger was all about and wanted to find it before it found her, but the Man kept her tight to his side, commanding her to heel. Unwillingly, she fought, but his strength was greater than hers and so she obeyed. The Man's strength comforted her fears and she relaxed, even as they moved into the woods that held even more threats.
The path was one they had taken before, but the night before, a terrible storm had come upon them. She had hidden under the Man's bed, frightened of the thunder because it sometimes brought hurt with it. She could see and smell the storm's aftermath, the path was damaged where the cold torrential rains had washed away the scents of the previous day.
What was that? It was an ill smell that promised nothing good. Fanatically, she threw her nose about, trying to identify it. The Man fought her as she struggled, but there it was, a glint of gold in the mud! What was he doing?
The Man walked to it and picked it from the mud. The whites of her eyes showed, but his strength ruled her. He turned it over in his hands, the ill Thing that looked to be a hard man thing in the shape of a ring, but she knew better. The Thing reeked of blood, decay and darkness.
They got back Home, but all the while she had slunk, afraid of what this strange Thing might bode. Never before had she met its like, but perhaps it was a spirit Thing? Or was it an ill omen shadow that danced on sharp edges, while a cold mist of decay hung about it.
Upset with her behavior, the Man chided her, and no delicious treat was forthcoming. He took the Thing and washed it in a foul smelling liquid. Drying it, he looked at it carefully. She tried to warn him, barking her distress, but he wouldn’t listen. Sternly, he ordered her to lie down and whimpering in fear, she hid, afraid of what was coming.
Placing the Thing on his finger, the Man admired his find, blind and ignorant of the monstrous stinking shadow that rose behind him. Whining, she tried to warn him again, but to no avail. He was blind to the spirit that crowed as it dug its claws deep into him.
Yes, spirit, for she had seen them before, but none like this. Most were pale reflections of life, not this writhing snake of cruel intent. Before her eyes the Man changed! If not for her keen nose she wouldn't have believed it, for the Man was gone and a Woman was suddenly in his place!
The Woman fell to her knees in shock. Delta was afraid of what had struck the Man, yet tentatively went over to the Woman who had begun to cry. Delta licked the tearstained face and was amazed to find The Woman crying not in pain but in JOY? Rocking back and forth she hugged Delta the dog to herself.
Confused, Delta looked at the shadow that was still latched firmly, still feeding from the crying Woman, and saw it was growing larger as it twisted about, lost in its own dark ecstasy. She knew no good would come of this and squirmed out of the woman’s grasp. Frightened, she went to huddle in the rays of the sun fighting their way free of the recent storms.
With her tail tucked safely between her legs, she shivered fearfully and looked out the patio door. A face looked back at her! Startled, she yipped, but the Woman was still lost in exploring herself and hadn’t heard. Caught between the Shadow and the strangeness on the other side of the door, she decided the door was the lesser threat and crept back to the sunny spot by the door.
Another spirit, Delta wondered? Casting her nose for a scent, she found not one but many! These weren't the snakes of shadow and darkness, but ever changing twirling shards of light. From globe, to star, and every shape in between they changed into one, then another while they sparkled and bounced.
‘Are they here because of the shadow,’ she wondered, for never before had she seen spirits like these? They somehow seemed concerned, for they hovered near the door but were unable to enter.
Behind her, Delta heard the Woman get up. At first she moved awkwardly as her full breasts swayed back and forth. Expecting a cry of sorrow, she was surprised once more as a laugh of joy left the Woman as she held her new breasts to herself.
Looking to the door, she saw the swirling sparkling lights cluster about it as if trying to see within, and twisted her head back to the Woman, who was making her way to the small room where the steaming warm rains fell. All the while, the bad ill scented shadow gorged itself upon her.
Not knowing what to do, Delta threw her head about agitatedly. Sensing the Shadow riding the Woman was where the greater harm lay, she lay outside the room of rushing waters, alert for trouble. Several times the Woman cried out, not in pain, but from pleasure as she stood in the steaming rain.
Confused, Delta scented the smell of mating, but no male was about. She'd known the Man had always been in 'season', was it the same for the Woman? The moans mixed with the patter of rain seem to confirm her thoughts.
This was something new, and the new always brought harm! The Woman dried herself and Delta kept going back and forth from the somehow friendlier twinkling spirits at the door in the now fading sunlight, and the definitely unfriendly one that continued to grow, feeding on the Woman.
The shadow ridden Woman went to her bed and once more began touching herself in the way that brought moans to her lips as the Shadow coiled evilly above. Delta sat at in the doorway, helpless to do anything but watch this strange horrible parody of mating.
While the Woman writhed in the pleasure she was giving herself, the unseen shadow continued to feed on her, delighting in her helplessness. Delta knew that whatever the Shadow was feeding on was nothing good, for the ill stinking thing exulted like a blood maddened creature delighting in the hurt of others.
How long this lasted Delta knew not, only that she was becoming hungry. Never had the Man forgotten to feed and water her, but the Woman was still caught firmly in the Shadow's evil claws. Finally she went forward and cautiously licked the Woman's hand. Languorously the Woman's head turned towards her with eyes dulled from either the pleasuring of herself or the Shadow's sated hunger.
With relief, Delta saw the Woman get up and cover herself in a now too large robe and stagger to the place of food. That was short lived as the Shadow turned to her!
It was aware of her and her fur ruffled as it gave a soundless snarl of displeasure at the interruption its feeding, as any predator would. Delta ate her food but kept an eye on the malicious spirit.
The Woman seemed more herself and fixed some food for herself, Yet as she ate, while the shadow's spell had been temporarily stymied it was still continuing to feed. Proving its power, after the Woman ate, she once more fell to touching herself.
All during that long night the shadow crouched over its prey, and Delta could only watch and whine in helplessness. When at last the morning sun rose, the Shadow was bloated and seemed to be sated for the moment. Delta dared to rouse the Woman, for it was time for her to go.
Wearily, and dazed from the brutal mauling on her spirit that no eyes could see, the Woman took Delta outside so she could’ go.' They didn't walk as far as the Man usually took her, but the unseen spirits from the door soared about them, and despite Delta's concern, they seemed to revive the Woman somewhat as the Shadow hid within the Ring Thing.
Once Home, the helpful spirits which had driven the Shadow back couldn’t enter and stayed at the door. After she was fed and watered, Delta could see signs that the Shadow too was rousing. It rose, perching upon the Woman as a vulture eyeing potential victims. The Woman left to dress, leaving Delta in anguish while the unseen shadow gloated.
Wearing clothes that didn't fit too badly the Woman left, leaving Delta alone with her worries. With her insecurities heavy upon her, Delta sat by the door, waiting for the Woman to return. Too many times at the ‘bad place' she had been left behind and alone, never knowing when food or water would come next. All too often the ‘bad' Man would forget, and she could do nothing but whine in her hunger and thirst.
The sun moved from the glass door to the kitchen window and finally to begin to sink under the ledge of the big room's window. The light began to fade, and Delta's worries grew, along with her discomfort.
It was time! She needed to go, NOW! Knowing punishment would come if she went in the house, she tried to find a place to hide it. Yes, behind the chair. Guiltily, she relived herself. Hoping the Woman wouldn't notice she went back to her spot to wait.
The sunset faded to night, and once more her needs filled her thoughts as her empty belly grumbled. Abandoning her watch, she padded to the kitchen to raid the box that wasn't to be touched. Within was the remains of the Woman's past meals, and once more daring punishment, Delta appeased her needs.
All though that long lonely night Delta waited for the Woman's return, but not until nearly the breaking of the dawn did the welcomed sound of the lock clicking wake her from her fitful nap and bad dreams.
Fretting over the Woman's long absence, she was taken aback as the door opened. Wearing far different clothes; her face smeared with weird paints and full of strange unpleasant scents, the Woman staggered in. Ignoring Delta, she fell into her bed.
She stank of strange smokes, and sour waters, but the stench of not one, but many matings upon her was the worse. Upon her arms, unpleasant marks like strange bites pocked them.
Delta wondered what had happened to the kind Man who had taken her from the ‘bad place.' The Shadow that hid within the Ring Thing was surely the cause, for the Woman now had a similar scent. The Woman seemed to care for nothing but her own pleasures. The quiet dignity the Man had carried with him wasn't present at all in the selfish Woman.
The Shadow now was a nasty seething mass of darkness and woe. Even the dawn was bringing no respite from her troubles, as distant rumbles of thunder promised another stormy dark and gray day.
The only brightness to be seen was the sparkling of the spirits at the door. Delta's fear of the thunder was great but the warm memories of how the Man treated her as a member of his pack, caused her to see something must be done about the Thing for the good of the pack.
The spirits of swirling sparks and lights seemed to be her only ally and although the dark clouds and thunder above threatened, she approached the glass door. Seemingly glad to see her, they bounced about, but then started to fly about in a circle before landing near the railing of the patio.
Puzzled, Delta watched them rest for a breath and then repeat themselves. A circle? She wondered watching them land only to begin again. Watching the circle, as they went round and round, in a ring?
RING! They wanted the Ring Thing! Her excitement faded as she understood what the spirits wanted of her, to bring the Ring Thing to the patio, but to do that, she would have to brave the Shadow and the Woman.
She padded to the Woman's bed and found the Ring Thing still on her hand. The Woman's hands now had long, nail-like claws. Not daunted she tried to grip the Thing with her teeth but it wouldn't come off. She feared the Woman would wake, but the terrible misuse of her body had exhausted her.
Not so the Shadow, for as she licked the Woman's hand to loosen the Thing upon it, the foulness began to waken. Somehow she felt its gaze lock upon her. Fastening her teeth once more, she tried to remove the Thing even as the Shadow started to move, twisting as it tried to wake the worn Woman.
Suddenly the Woman jerked her hand, but if the Shadow had been trying to protect the Ring Thing, it failed, for the Thing slipped off into her mouth! With a flash, the Shadow disappeared from the Woman. Delta turned to run to the glass door, even as she heard the Woman begin to move.
Rearing up, she pushed the wooden handle of the glass door and slipped as a peal of thunder cause her to jerk in fear! In fear, for a voice not her own whispered in her thoughts.
“So afraid. You don't have to be. Do you not want to be strong, so you won't have to be afraid ever again? Stronger than anyone or anything?” The Shadow whispered its message of darkness in her ear.
Rearing up again, finally her paws caught the handle and it clicked open. Visions and promises of ferocious power and strength suddenly stopped, as the spirits of lights charged in, dancing impassioned about her. The storm's threatening winds ruffled her fur, and her tail tucked tight as she remembered one too many days of being left to the mercy of such alone in the bad place.
Hearing the Woman stumbling about behind her, goaded her to continue to the patio's edge, where she dropped the ill natured Thing from her mouth. Slowly at first, the spirits began to circle the Thing, but soon they began to fly faster and faster in their dance.
Delta's fur stood on end, giving her warning. She slinked back into the Home. Behind her, the Woman stumbling tried to shut the door as the angry cold winds slammed it to and forth, while the icy rains splat their displeasure. Then her eyes spied the Ring Thing lying upon the deck.
Heedless of the flashing lightning and the deafening roar around them, the Woman gave a forlorn cry of desperation and tried to rush to the Thing. Lost to her addiction and blind to the racing blur of spirits circling above, the woman could not see the immense energies only breaths from striking.
Delta’s fur stood on end as the very air crackled with ozone about them. She knew they were much too close to the Ring Thing but overcoming her fear Delta grabbed the Woman's clothes in her strong teeth. The Woman with tears flowing down her cheeks tried to free herself as the cold winds and hail battered them both , but still Delta held on. Knowing she couldn't hold much longer, she lunged back risking all or nothing, dragging the Woman with her.
With a tremendous flash and roar, lightning struck the patio! The thunderous concussion threw them both backwards. Scrambling to her feet, the Woman ran fighting the mad gusts for the door, as it slammed back and forth wildly in the breath stealing chill. Fanatically the Woman search for the Thing, but only the smoldering remains of the railing were still there to be seen. Soon even the smoky wisps stopped as the rain and hail soaked the blacken charred wood.
Crying sadly, defeated the Woman went inside to the warmth, and brokenly called Delta to her. But her sharp ears caught a sound. Quickly casting about she saw a black winged shape recklessly daring the storm. Carrying a glint of gold, it soared away with a caw of laughter as it disappeared into the dark clouds.
Much time had passed, but the Man never did return. Only the Woman remained. Delta grew to accept that the Woman needed her as much as she had once needed the Man. In time the tears dried and the cries during the night slowly faded away.
During storms, Delta still hid, but more from the memories of that terrible day than the fright that had consumed her before. Perhaps it had been the Shadow feeding on her that had lured the Woman into selfishness and pursuit of pleasure to the exclusion of all else. She began to show compassion and care foregoing her earlier vices.
The horrible deeds the Woman inflicted upon herself took their toll but time gave her healing. Now something new had come into the Home and cautiously as always Delta investigated it. A Man had begun visiting, and after a time, Delta gave her grudging assent to his presence.
The Woman held her hand with something new on it for her to see and sniff. It had a glittering rock that reminded her of those sparkling spirits, even if it was shaped like the bad Thing. Giving the hand a lick with her tongue, she sat on her haunches, with her tail wagging in approval.
The Woman and the Man laughed and she recognized words that meant a tasty treat was coming her way, “Good Dog!”
by Grover
Let not the dreams die
For true freedom is lost
when they can not soar.
Not one step has been made
Not one goal achieved
Not one life fulfilled
Without dreams to reveal the path.
Grover
inspired by
Langston Hughes
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional A big thanks goes out to Paula for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Cathy who pre-read this. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
Part 1 of 3
by
grover
Pensacola Fl. May 1990
“Where am I?” Jake had just gotten to sleep, when he found himself standing alone on the side of a mountain. He’d had strange dreams before, so real that waking was disorienting and confusing. Those dreams paled beside this and made him wonder if this was real.
He could scent the sea nearby and feel the cool breeze ruffling his hair. With an eerie calm, he looked about. The mountain was odd appearing, because it looked like nothing else but a huge dragon in slumber.
Jake studied the rocky formation, from the dragon-skull shaped peak to the huge jagged boulders that his imagination said were claws. The whole mountain looked so like a dragon. However, he was certain no living creature had ever been this tremendously large. It was in a Godzilla scale of huge. Just the dragon claws shaped boulders dwarfed the tall trees growing on its flanks.
With a detached sense of curiosity, he saw that he was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt. This shirt was one of his favorites because it let him express his fascination with transformations without anyone being the wiser. It boldly bore, 'Ninja Teenage Mutant Elephants' as a pun on the popular comic series.
It was worth noting that he was male for this dream because sometimes in other dreams he was a she. He had come to grips that sad truth that he was, at least in some fashion, gender bent. Jake sighed, for he knew that his fascination with all things feminine wasn‘t the usual male preoccupation with sex. Their clothes, the way they move, and even the way women carried themselves fascinated him.
He had cross-dressed before and it had left him with conflicting feelings; on the one hand, feeling ‘so right’ and on the other, guilt because he was a guy and it just wasn’t the kind of thing a male was suppose to do. Jake wasn’t sure if he was transsexual, that is, a woman in a man’s body or just some variant of cross dresser.
It was grim knowing that those in the transgender community actually had a name for all the times that he’s thrown all of “her” stuff away only to re-buy it a few months later. Purging, they called the process of repeatedly getting rid of your “forbidden stuff” only gather it all together again to repeat the process all over again.
These last few weeks had been a little easier, since he mustered out of the Service. He’d worked in the Air Force intelligence community where any “irregularities” could cost you your security clearance, and privacy was an illusion. The sense of freedom, of being released from those pressures, was as real as that proverbial weight being removed from Atlas’s mythical shoulders.
Jake had a role-playing, gamer buddy from the service, who had mustered out of the Service a few months before him. John lived in Florida, not far from the beach. He had offered to put Jake up until he could find his own place. He had taken John up on his offer and had found that he enjoyed walks on the beach. He'd felt a sense of peace listening to the surf.
A few days ago, while just letting his thoughts drift one morning, he’d discovered an odd blue stone on the beach, which at first he thought was a sapphire. Curious and excited he'd shown a jeweler the stone who told him it was only some sort of sea glass.
Sea glass was glass that had been smoothed and polished by the sea, but had become somewhat rare since dumping into the sea had became illegal. His blue stone while unusual had no real value, but the jeweler had offered him five bucks for it anyways. Jake had decided to keep it and use it as a good luck charm. He used some copper wire to form a primitive setting for it and wore it as a necklace.
Part of the strangeness of this dream was that while he didn’t have his wallet or watch with him, he did have the stone. Jake rubbed the stone’s coolness thoughtfully wondering at this most peculiar dream he was having. He never knew you could day-dream in a dream.
Jake was thrown abruptly from his feet, but was able to land without harm. “Great,” he thought to himself, “it’s a dream about an earthquake.” Moving quickly, he avoided getting brained by the shower of fist and head sized rocks rolling down the mountain side.
Dancing manically about, trying to dodge all of the debris coming at him, Jake glanced up searching for some sort of cover. He ran for the Dragon’s claws as he had come to call them, at least their overhang would give some protection.
Cursing all the way, Jake couldn’t remember when he’d every experienced pain in a dream before. The collection of bruises from the rocks he couldn’t avoid stung with a vengeance.
Jake thought that pain was supposed to wake you up, and he was beginning to have the unpleasant inkling that this wasn’t a dream at all. He’d nearly reached the Dragon’s Claws when damn it, they began to shift too!
Jake tried to a stop, but he already had that icy shock of looking at his death crushed by the rocks of the dragon’s claw as he continued to slide forward. Desperately, Jake rolled to his right fighting to survive.
A booming laughter began, “Ha ho ho, it’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone move so quickly!” Impossibly the dragon-skull, mountain peak moved! A cavern-sized mouth spoke with an amazingly loud voice, but left no doubt in his mind this was a female dragon.
Although most of the dragon looked to be made of rock, Jake could see about a third of the face was scaled as well as parts of one leg. The scales were rainbow hued and shimmered as they moved.
The odd mix of rock and flesh gave it the appearance of the ravages of some terrible disease. The one remaining, golden, slitted eye, the size of a small car, gazed at him and despite the grim thought that this wasn’t a dream and he was indeed in harm’s way, Jake couldn’t find fear in himself.
Ever since he began reading science-fiction and fantasy as a lonely youngster, he’d loved the strange and wonderful creatures in them. Unicorns, griffins, and dragons, Oh My! One of his favorite authors had a great series about Dragon Riders, and now here was a dragon right in front of him!
Speechless, he tried to absorb every feature and impression so he wouldn’t forget. The dragon towered over him and the pure vertigo of watching something so gigantic move wasn’t too unlike the first time he looked up at a skyscraper. The feeling was completely overwhelming, Jake found himself leaning further and further backwards until he fell. Great, another pain for the collection, groused Jake.
Another snort of laughter escaped it causing another shower of dislodged stones, “I must apologize for my behavior Little One,” rumbled the dragon, “But I couldn’t resist. Well, I am a dragon after all.” As if that excused everything. The dragon continued, “It’s been many millennia since I last spoke with a human.”
She paused for a moment, with that one great eye looking at him while the garage door sized nictitating membrane blinked and the mountain peak of teeth and rocks moved closer. “No, it’s been millennia since I’ve spoken to anyone at all because of my affliction.”
The dragon gestured with a tremendous pillar of rock that was her leg. The mountainous craggy face of stone with its one good eye had the hideous effect of an eye-patch in reverse. The orb was the last sign of life among the pitted lifeless stones.
That reptilian eye peered into Jake's soul as she spoke, “I am old beyond belief and cursed with a malady that torments me into near madness. Death is my only escape, but before I succumb, I want to truly live one last time.” That terrible eye burned as she continued, “To do so, I need your help Jacob son of Michael of the house of Morgan.”
Jake licked dry lips and did his best to keep his voice from wavering, “I am honored that you would ask me, but I don’t see how I can help. I am not a doctor or wizard, and I don’t have any special skills that could help you.”
“Silence!” she roared. Only part of my brain has turned to stone, not all. I am the last of the first and have outlived all of my peers. I know who can help and who can not.”
“You stand in front of me with full knowledge I could squash you flat, but you control your fear well. Many of my enemies have perished, because they either feared too much or not at all. The most dangerous of all acknowledged that fear and used it as a tool.”
“I have learned being fearless is not an advantage but a weakness. Fear like pain is a message to us we have the choice to ignore or follow. Like pain, fear can not be allowed to rule one’s self, but instead ask why you are feeling it and then decide your course of action.
Your control of your fear is one of the reasons why you were chosen, but another and the more important reason is because you are a Dreamer. Imprisoned beneath my mountain of fire, I sent out thousands of Dream-Stones like your blue one searching for the right person to aid me.”
Pointing at his lucky charm, she said, “The jeweler was correct it is a piece of glass sanded smooth by the sea. Volcanic glass, I had mystically spelled to seek out the dreamer I needed, and thousands of dreamers I have visited in my quest.
“You are the best choice.” The dragon settled herself somewhat, if it was possible for a mountain to relax. “I remember when humans first began, and I thought nothing of them. Many species I have seen come and go extinct. You humans were different I thought because you thrived in places where most perished. In just a few thousand years I found myself competing against them and their gods.”
She laughed harshly, “Some even thought I was a goddess. I fought the humans and many died beneath my claws, but still you increased your numbers. The few children I bore couldn’t compete with your thousands.”
The dragon looked at him with pain from long ago in her single living eye, “If I killed many of your kind, you humans killed my children.” she said sadly. “Dragons are made of magic, our very fiber is filled with it, and you humans hunted us for it as you would the hart or the rabbit for its fur and meat.
Hide, teeth, claw, they could all be used to create magic weapons or used as parts of spells. They called my children monsters, and used that as an excuse in their harvesting. Despite all I could do, one by one they died. Many dragons retreated from human lands altogether and some even left this some-when for some other-when.”
“I was too proud! I stayed, but grew weary of the struggle. Finally one of your ancient kings made me an offer. If I would help protect his realm, he would keep the hunters from my children. My merely being in his lands would be enough to keep any ambitious neighbor away.”
“He knew I was using him, and would turn on him given the chance once my children were weaned, and of course, he was using me. What I didn’t know, was that he had tunnels dug into my chambers, and was harvesting our castoff scales and claws as if Dragons were nothing more than sheep to be sheared.”
“I was furious when I found this monkey with delusions of grandeur treating ME and my hatchings like we were nothing more than livestock. In my anger and arrogance, I crafted a spell that would use the magic remaining in such castoffs and change it to stone.”
“It would use up the magic in the scale and claw to effect the change rending useless. I thought myself clever and laughed when I imagined the look on his face when he found his “rocks”.
She paused remembering that long ago time, “He was vain man who sought immortality though whatever magic he could find, and I was full of pride and vowed that nothing of mine would profit him.”
The dragon looked at Jake and sadly shook her mammoth head, “I was a fool. The human king had taught himself magic seeking to prolong his life, and he saw the great flaw in my spell casting. He too was angered for he was depending on that magic to give him his greatest wish, immortality. In his fury, he found inspiration and found a way to turn my magic against me. Today you would call it a virus, for his spell merged and altered just a few critical parts of my own magical working.”
A single enormous tear flowed like rapids down her craggy face from her one living eye, “Rather than wait for a scale or claw to be discarded and then activate, the spell became active while the scales and claws were still upon the body.”
“Since it was feeding off the magic of the very essence of draconic being, rather than just the remnants in the scale or claw, it happened much faster and worse I couldn’t stop it. I first knew that it had gone horribly wrong when my precious little ones started to turn to unfeeling rock. Since they were smaller, my children felt its murderous effects first and they were quickly overcome by it and became nothing but stone.”
“Only one survived the spell, only to be called a monster herself and finally slain. I went insane and vowed vengeance on my betrayer, but he had called on his gods to save him and his pitiful city. Seeing an advantage, rival gods convinced me to ally with them, and I went so far as marriage to seal an alliance with them. With hate in my breast we threw ourselves with ferocious abandon against our enemies and the battle we fought shook the very pillars of the sky.”
“Powerful was I then, but not a god. I was defeated along with my allies. With my children slain, I retreated to heal my wounds while seeking a way to defeat this hideous affliction.”
“It used my own vast strength against me. I could only slow it, but not stop its deadly progress. I increased my size to slow the spell and went to others of my kind for help.”
“They refused and called me a fool. In truth I think they knew they couldn’t help and refused because they couldn't admit their own weakness. When the pain of my affliction became too great, I found that heating my rocky skin eased the pain and restored some measure of movement.”
“Casting a spell to give greater protection from the fires of the earth, I burrowed deep down into the Earth Mother. For thousands of years did I nest there, secure in my hate and unable to even walk the earth again because of my great size and affliction.”
“Then seeking any distraction from my endless torment, I started listening to your human dreams. Dragon’s dreams are full of might and fire because that is what we’re made of. Your dreams were different for they were of love, conquest, marvelous places, and terrifying truths. You see I was wrong. It wasn't your breeding like rats that make you human special, it was your dreams.”
“I found all human successes began in their dreams and found myself increasingly captivated by them. For every wonderful dream that a human forges into reality, a hundred more glorious ones simply fade with the dawn.”
“I have experienced many wonderful stories of love as well as tragic ones which mirror humans’ waking hours. In time I lost my hate of you and came to cherish the dreamers for all the things that dragons lack.”
“I had thought myself wise and knowledgeable, but what humankind had taught itself exceeded anything I‘ve could have ever imagined. Putting my pride aside, I took up the challenge of learning from the dreamers. Many years have passed since then, and I have come to terms with my ending. But one last time I want to give the gift of life. I want to create something new and wonderful to walk underneath the sun and for that I need your help.” She gently stated while streams from her tears splashed to the cooling earth.
Jake with tears welling up in his own eyes, gently rubbed the dream-stone, seeking comfort in the smooth blue. He asked softly, “Are you asking me to help you die?”
The massive head shook, “I am not asking for your hand to wield the blade but for you to grant me one last taste of freedom before my ending. As you can see, even in my dreams, I am trapped in stone. What you can do with the help of the dream-stone is to free me for one last night.”
“You are a lucid dreamer and can harness your dreams to your will. That can break me free and with that freedom I mean to once more be the maiden, the mother and the bringer of life,” she told him.
Jake was a little confused but thought he understood where she was going, “I know that you are a dragon but don't you need a mate to do something like that?”
It was hard to believe that such a huge creature could speak so gently, “I do and I have found him.” she said grazing at him with one moon bright eye.
Feeling his legs starting to turn to jelly Jake fought to not look for some place to hide, “Hmmm. I honored that you would ask me but...” he stammered nervously out.
Half expecting another roar he almost flinched, but the mountain peak skull simply pleaded, “Please don't refuse. All I ask for is to share a dream and if you find pleasure that I be allowed to enjoy it with you. You are the dreamer. You alone control what happens within your realm. Please Jacob son of Michael, House of Morgan?”
Jake taking a breath to calm himself before baring his soul, “I, I, have a problem you see I'm....”
“Shh, I know of your conflicts within yourself. Your clay is of a son of Adam but your heart and soul are of a daughter of Eve. There are other dreamers but only you have a body that will rise to my fires and the soul our daughter will need.” she consoled.
He was taken a little aback that this dragon knew his inner most secrets, but she had said after all, she had been listening to his dreams and based on those he was her choice. Of his life he couldn't say that it had been bad, but couldn't claim that he was happy either.
Jake's parents although they loved him didn't know what to make of him because he fell so far from anything they knew. The trouble was, he knew that he was different and everyday was challenge that had become, over time, a battle he was weary of fighting.
He’d known for quite sometime that he was only partially functional in his own way. It was only while in the dreams of others though his cherished sci-fi fantasy books or the shared one when engaging in role-playing games with his few friends that Jake had found he could be himself, whoever that was.
Jake's dreams were his escape from his intolerable everyday life. They were the flights of fancy that took him far from his mundane pains, and were his release that enable him to survive. Now here was a fellow traveler, who although monstrous beyond all comparison, by her own admission, was also filled with pain and hurt that she too could only escape through dreams.
The compassion and empathy that was so much Jake's inner heart and soul couldn't, wouldn't let him turn away from her distress.
“If I agree to this, what do I need to do?” He asked the mountain in front of him, feeling apprehension, but determined to ease her unhappiness if only for a single night in a dream.
“Just close your eyes and dream, Jake. Imagine me not as a diseased mountain of stone, but alive and well,” she guided him.
Doing as she asked, Jake let his emotions and imagination loose to give form to his feelings. The wistful scent of the sea and the lonely rocky coast remained but her sad voice conjured a different vision.
Without being told Jake opened his eyes to find silhouetted against the ocean sky a woman wrapping her arms about herself. Her mid-back length, red hair was flowing with the gentle sea breeze. Her body was slim and full of grace that her womanly curvatures transformed into a work of elegant art.
Not knowing if he had done rightly or not Jake was still enchanted by what his dream had wrought. Her face, fair complexion, expressive green eyes and her lips finished a painting of all that he had ever desired. Not to just love but to dare to want to become. An illusion shattered when he saw her tears.
“I'm sorry” Jake said fearing that he had done wrong, “What did I do wrong? I didn't mean to make you human. It just sorta happened.”
Her green eyes looked into his, “Do you have any idea how wonderful it is to feel the wind? How to have two eyes to see the sky? To smell the sea? These are not tears of hurt Jacob, but of joy that my terrible pain is at last banished!”
Taking his hands in her so feminine ones, she smiled. “Eons past I would have cursed you for envisioning me as such a fragile creature but I have learned to appreciate the dreams of the dreamers.”
Releasing his hand she flung herself into a spin reveling in her freedom, “You are human and you have dreamed me beautiful. How could I fault such a gift from the heart?”
Speechless, Jake could only watch her dance, lamenting that no reality could match the vision before him. Her joy shone from her, as the rising sun in the dawn. As she grew aware of him raptly watching, her dance grew from one of joy to an older one of promises made by a woman to her mate.
The dragon-maid waltzed to him and took his hand, “I can't dance” Jake blushed and protested.
She laughed smiling at him, “But of course you can. This is a dream!” as she moved close to her chosen one.
Enthralled, Jake never noticed when he began to lead as they swirled together in dance on the high cliff above the crystal sea. Many such dances had ended in the soft green clover and this one was no different. Their dance was transmuted by passion into kisses and caresses and as he entered her, she greeted him with a song of her passion and desires.
Dimitri Mitsopoulos jerked himself rudely awake as alarms blared. He was a grad student at the University of Athens working as a technician during the summer. Dropping the book he had been reading to help keep himself awake on his shift at the small Seismography Research Station on the small Greek Mediterranean island of Angelo Echidna. It was just one of the over fourteen hundred Greek islands but was noteworthy only for its ancient semi-active volcano.
Modern science said it shouldn't be still active at all. So the mystery rated a small, one man, research station mostly just to look after the equipment and it gave Dimitri a summer job. He didn't need the seismograph to tell him that a major eruption was, astonishingly, happening without any warning at all as the floor rumbled underneath his feet.
Quickly he double-checked to make sure the data was feeding to the mainland before running outside to try and determine just how much danger he might be in. Dawn was just breaking, but the fires within the mountain illuminated the sky in fiery red.
The thunder grew till Dimitri was thrown from his feet. In awe he watched, as the ancient mountain fired a concentrated bolt of superheated gases and ejecta miles high into the morning sky unlike anything he had every seen or heard of before.
Inside, the banks of computers and recording equipment faithfully relayed the information to scientists across the world. Unknown to the young technician, it was also sent to someone else who wasn't the least bit interested in advancing the study of Mother Earth but in the monster that poisonously laired within her breast. Just as it had years ago, when a shower of volcanic glass had flown from the mountain's maw, the spoor of the prey was sent to the hunter.
Within the bolt of fiery gases, a moving-van-sized chunk of ejecta flew to near orbit along with its sisters. Cunning pockets of gas within the vaguely organic-shape rock vented to help guide and stabilize its flight as while its sisters protectively shepherded it behind vented gases of their own to safeguard their sister.
Reentering the atmosphere, ablative sheets burned off not only protecting it from the fires but for concealment. More gases vented slowing and continuing to guide as it passed over the Atlantic Ocean. Its sisters flew a madly divergent course all over the planet, but not a one would find the Earth Mother again as they would completely burn up to create brilliant displays to distract the hunters from their stealthy sister.
Inside the United States Air Force tracking facility at NORAD a state of controlled pandemonium reigned as ground and space based tracking sites followed the unidentified swarm of objects that fit the profile of Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles (ICBMs) too damn closely.
The Officer in Charge (OIC) General “Rich” Ironhorse knew that he had to set an example of calmness to keep that pandemonium from turning into panic. When he had what looked to be over forty unknowns maneuvering under-power after a mass launch that was little short of impossible as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
Confidence even in those numbers were low as some of the damn things were acting like decoys while others looked to have deployed some sort of radar jamming material like chaff.
The OIC knew that of nothing could intercept all of these contacts that were closing in not just on the US but other locations though out the world. The Star Wars Defense System was still officially years from being ready, but they could attempt to engage. The problem was which ones? With all the decoys they had just as much chance of hitting one of them as they did what ever the decoys was protecting. As for retaliation this didn't look like an attack by a hostile nation. Greece didn't even have ICBMs for God's sake.
Quickly reading a report an airman passed to him, the OIC picked up the RED phone and made his report. “Sir, it is our opinion that this is not an attack by a hostile nation. Based on the available information at this time, it is most likely a supranormal action Mr. President.”
Jake turned to his lover as she rested in the crook of his arm amid the cool soft clover. He had trouble believing what had happened between them but sorrow darkened his joy. “What happens now my dragon-maiden?”
Her green eyes looked up into his, “Life goes on as it always has. Without endings there are no beginnings. I am so old my dear one despite this wonderful form you have dreamed for me. I have seen such sights that none would believe and have had great happiness as well as pain no being should have to bear” she told him softy.
“Soon the last Thunderwalker will be no more. All but one of the Firsts have fallen and my time is past. Grieve not my dear one for you have given me a gift not even the gods could bequest,” She said with calm serenity while touching his lips with her finger tips to quiet his protests.
“I was trapped unable to die but living only in agony. My very essence and strength kept me alive only to suffer. By surrendering all that I am to our offspring to be, that terrible spell that I cast upon myself will finally be complete and I will end.”
“Yes I'm going to die but my death is a blessing not because of the ending of my pain but because by giving all I am, to our child she will be the start of something new and wondrous.”
Smiling mischievously she said, “You're going to be a father and its a girl! Don't worry my dear one, she will be taken care of my dear one, but it is time.”
Shocked, Jake stuttered, “W-w-who going to look after the b-baby?”
“Shh, she'll be protected as no child has ever been before and you'll always be with her as will I.”
With his heart weeping, Jake was furiously determined that her last moments would be unforgettable. Smiling into her eyes, he stepped backwards over the high cliff.
Dragon though she may be, still fear stole her breath as he fell from sight, for she knew for a dreamer, the old wife’s tale told true. To die in this dream world would mean his death.
Rushing forward her fear for him vanished, as the male dragon nearly bowled her over as he raced skyward! Her old temper flared, but vanished as the male dragon made a clear invitation for her to join him.
Joy filled her as the rightness of her choice of the dreamer filled her and she trusted him more than she had any mortal, god, or dragon flung herself off the cliff. She felt herself transform and a roar of delight rushed from her as her strong wings carried her into her rightful element.
Together they raced the clouds drifting over the sea as she showed him a different dance among the clouds. As the final moment got closer and closer she somehow knew it had been his intention. With her last breath she showed him passion could be embraced among the clouds as well as clover.
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes the Dimitri would never have believed that incredible sight. Geothermal events just don't act this way! It was if the entire Volcano had become a monstrous gun firing freight train sized rocks into the sky.
According to his instruments, after the first sudden unexplained eruption, the pressures that had begun to ease, just as inexplicably began building again. This time it was as if a somehow a huge inert mass had blocked the primary vents.
The pressure was building very quickly and the hurried evacuation had him scrambling to ensure that his instruments would continue sending until the last moment.
The tremors were getting worse and worse and he rushed, gathering precious records to flee from the coming catastrophe. The few island fishermen were already gone and the crew of the Greek Navy boat were gesturing frantically for him to hurry as he raced down the dock. The sailors caught him as he leapt aboard as more tremors shook the small island.
They rushed out to sea with the helmsman recklessly pushing his craft pass any reasonable limits. Spray flew and foamed behind them in their mad flight as each man looked fearfully over his shoulder at the monster waiting behind them. Just over the horizon, just over an hour from the first eruption, Angelo Echidna Island blew itself up.
Hanging on for dear life, Dimitri saw the pillar of fire arch towards the heavens. Shouts from the Greek sailors warned him to hold on as the grizzled helmsman twisted his craft about to ride bow first into the oncoming shock-wave.
With a deceptive slowness the white wall of the wave rose up to meet them. The power of the explosion shook their small craft, but was much milder than Dimitri had feared. 'This wasn't right' he thought. While the Greek Navy sailors celebrated their survival, he wondered just what had really happened to Angelo Echidna.
In the coming years scientists would debate why the explosion that had been powerful enough to completely destroy the island, had been so mild that it had done little other damage.
In fact the most telling effect from the eruption had been the incredible brilliant rainbow hued sunsets instead of the usual red expected from debris in the atmosphere Why the explosion hadn't been on the scale of a Krakatoa, because of that mysterious blockage, was a subject for debate.
A learned panel of geologists ruled that the ancient volcano must have had a honeycombed structure that simply collapsed like an imploding building when the magma chamber blew.
Dimitri knew that was complete rubbish. He had been there and the instruments clearly revealed that no such “honeycomb” was present. Gathering his papers he left the meeting knowing that the answer to why was contained in the materials from that impossible first eruption. All he had to do was find a sample.
The OIC rubbed his eyes as the first eyewitness reports came in. A Volcano? He didn't believe that for a moment. Volcanoes don't launch devices that maneuvered for re-entry much less spit out chaff and decoys.
If that wasn't enough reason the two civilians who had presidential authority to enter NORAD while in lock-down was more proof. When the President says open the doors and let them in, doors got opened.
They had the look of spooks to them and if the United Law-enforcement Tribunal for Metahuman Affairs, Terrestrial and Extraterrestrial called ULTIMATE by the press, was the world's answer to the meta-human question the OIC knew the USA had its own solutions to that problem.
The good news was so far the bogies hadn't caused any damage. Reports were still coming in but no poisonous gases, virus, explosions, or other ill effects aside from one hell of a light show.
The larger of the two men was extremely imposing, broad of shoulder, bald, and dark complexioned perhaps of Arabic origin. He moved with the pent violence of a large predator, but it was the smaller swarthy man who seemed to radiate presence and confidence. A little more than 5' 5” guessed the OIC with the experience eye of a trained observer.
It was his eyes that convinced the OIC it was indeed the smaller man, who was known only as Hunter like out of some bad spy novel, who was truly the more dangerous of the two.
“Relax.” Hunter assured the OIC, “We're not here to undermine your authority but instead to find clues as to where to begin our search. We agree,” he nodded to his bald associate “that it appears that this was just an elaborate diversion and not an attempt to deliver a weapon but perhaps for an escape.”
The OIC's eye bugged, “From a Volcano?” he choked in disbelief!
The bald, suited companion in a surprisingly soft voice for such large man, quoted “There were Giants, in the earth in those days. (Genesis 6:4)”
Hunter solemnly exchanged a look that acknowledged something that passed between the two of them. The OIC firmly decided that he didn't want to know more. After all being a guardian of the United State's nuclear might was more than enough to disturb his peace of mind without adding threats of biblical proportions.
Across the Caribbean it streaked, visibly, but not brilliantly, across the tropical skies. Very much like an ICBM it zoomed down upon its target in Pensacola Florida. Final course corrections were made and the remaining gas pockets fired like the retrorockets they were patterned on.
John Jefferson Jones worked at the local Navy base repairing helicopter jet engines at the depot. He'd been able to snag such a primo position because of his disability retirement from the Air Force. He should have crashed already because his job required him to rise early, but he was concerned about his friend Jake.
He knew that there was quite a bit of culture shock to get use to after leaving military service. The lifestyle was completely different and John wondered if that was why the quiet Jake had been even more moody than normal.
John had just set his three alarm clocks. He was such a heavy sleeper that he needed all the help he could get to wake up in the morning. Sliding underneath the covers he heard the roar and at first thought it was Navy flight trainees flying night qualifications.
The roar got louder and his trained ear warned him that wasn't a jet motor instants before he was thrown from his bed by the explosion!
With his ears ringing, John pulled himself up shaking his head. He grabbed at the flashlight, a habit from the Air Force made him keep it near at night. John could smell smoke and the smoky beam revealed a buckled wall that was blacking as he watched from the heat.
Snatching his blanket from his bed he quickly tested the door for fire on the other side and went to find Jake. The first thing he saw was the other bedroom door had been blown clean off its hinges.
Using the blanket to help shield himself from the heat radiating like a furnace from Jake's room, he feared the worse. Braving the inferno to peek a little further inside all John could see was the burning ruin of Jake's bed. What freaked him out was the huge rocky white hot egg sitting in the middle of it and the flames licking at the edges of the gapping hole in the ceiling above it.
Bernard Johnson suppressed a yawn. He had just gotten to sleep a scant few hours ago after dealing with a young mutant who was having problems with his passive telepathy. He'd had problems himself before he had learned to shield, and dealing with a hysterical teenager who suddenly had it thrust upon him all at once was no picnic.
He had just gotten home when he found a pair state cops on his Tallahassee doorstep set and determined he was going to investigate some strangeness in Pensacola. They had hustled him into a plane and the few winks he caught on the flight didn't do much to help him feel better. As soon as they had landed he was rushed to a waiting car and escort, and they hurried off with a scream of sirens
The clutter of fire-trucks, emergency vehicles, and police cars clued him in that he had arrived. One side of the apartment was threatening to collapse and the obvious fire damage made Bernard fear that a mutant may have gone into spontaneous combustion precipitated by mutation syndrome or ‘spontaneous mutant combustion’ by the popular media (SMC).
Mutants that manifested during puberty had their share of problems but the worse ones were those that missed puberty. The unexpressed mutation could just suddenly be triggered and the host unable to contain all the energy just went up in flames. Depending on the mutation it was very possible for SMC to cause fires and in some limited cases explosions.
True to form the people who was chaperoning him had no clue about what had happened so he was operating in the dark. Because of his gifts of ESP and PSI powers it wasn't the first time he'd been to a scene like this one, but it never gave him any pleasure for the news was usually bad.
Carefully lowering his shields he received some impressions of despair and others of helplessness. More prevalent was the generally feeling “of what do we do now?”
Bernard felt feelings of guilt coming from a young man who, it seemed, was the roommate to whoever had been in that burned out room. The young man had been burned and pushed himself beyond his limits to try to go to his friend.
Reaching gently with his powers Bernard left a “suggestion” he had done all he could and that there shouldn't be any reason for guilt because he had done his best. It would've been immoral to do more than suggest, but it might save the loyal John from more anguish.
Entering the apartment he saw the fire damage was consistent with other cases he'd seen of “SMC” until he reached the bedroom. The firemen had soaked the entire area with water and fire retardant foam but he could still feel the heat radiating from the rocky object sitting in the charred remains of the room.
Bernard didn't want to call it an egg because if you give something a name you tend to focus on that possibility, while it very well might be something else all together. The problem was it looked so much like one of those eggs from that movie “Aliens” he could understand everyone’s uneasiness.
There wasn't any sign of a body but he had gathered that indeed a young man had been present when this “meteor”(?), thought Bernard as he looked up at the hole in the ceiling, had crashed into this room.
Leery of “reading” a death with his powers which always was most unpleasant he reached out to try and find what had happened here. Strangely he was getting a feminine impression, maybe a previous occupant?
Some Navy guys had shown up with arm loads of equipment that from what Bernard could overhear indicated no radiation or toxic fumes. It was ‘just one very big piece of charcoal’ as one in Navy uniform, joked morbidly.
He could get just so close as he worked his way pass the burned, water soaked debris of a person's life. Bernard used his power to 'touch' the egg but to his surprise he got nothing at back all. He should have gotten something if it had killed that man, but he didn't even get a background feeling from the bed.
Shocked Bernard realized that it was if the egg was shielded! Working his way around it he found that there was a circle around the Egg that indeed seemed was shielded but he didn't get an impression of a person.
Realizing there was another explanation, he reached into his pocket for the small packet of useful tools he kept with him. An old friend had given him this years ago while at school and the tools had proved useful from time to time.
Unwrapping the silk covered crystal, Bernard daring the heat held it as close to the egg as he dared. A small flash of light from it was his reward and he quickly left the room. It took him a few minutes to consider a course of action, but he had gotten the idea that the military was planning on moving it and if he was right that really would not be a good idea.
Hitting the speed dial on his cell phone, “Yes, connect me with Dr. Herman Ross. This is Bernard Johnson. I think I have a “situation” here.
Jake stirred a bit but it was so warm and cozy he didn't want to get up. “Shh” a gentle muse whispered to him. “Go back to sleep.”
Sinking back to sleep, “Yes Mama” Jake muttered.
The Ottoman Paranormal Studies Institute (OPSI) recovery crew all relaxed somewhat now that they had moved the “egg” safely from the soon to be demolished apartment and into the secure room that was second only to the Vault for protection.
The damn thing just looked too much like something might hatch from it and start looking for lunch. The trip by train had been uneventful and the most stressful part of the whole trip was convincing the Navy that OPSI did indeed have authority in this case.
Dr. Ross rubbed his tired eyes again as he read the report on their mysterious “egg.” Its official name was Anomaly #1703, but everyone just called it the egg. The staff psychics were unable to get anything from it at all because of some sort of shielding and Bernard Johnson had been correct when he suspected magic. The Mages had done their best but hadn't any more success than the psychics to their disgust.
Their best guess was it was the product of a very powerful neutral mage which was an oxymoron. One way to achieve great power as a mage was to strike deals with the greater powers. To have something this powerful but neutral, while not as troubling as something evil might be, was still puzzling. Even more so when you add in the possible death of that young man Jacob Morgan.
The technicians had been unable to get any readings from x-rays, ultrasound or magnetic resonance imaging (MRI). It just soaked up the energy like a sponge. Attempts to take samples failed to even scratch the surface.
When asked if a person could be trapped inside, all the techs could do was weigh it and make some guesses, and say maybe, which helped him not at all. Dr. Ross, weighing the possibility that Mr. Morgan's remains might be within, decided to approve more rigorous testing.
The three scientists stood around the “egg” surrounded by everything from mega-watt lasers, power tools and jackhammers. The two men and one woman had tried everything they could think of to get inside the damn thing and now was down to 'Well, what do you want to try next?' stage.
The ventilators were still working at removing the smell of burnt metal after ruining a set of diamond tipped drill bits and the aftereffects of the plasma torch. Pushing up his safety goggles “Well, I say we get permission to go for broke. Let's submerse the thing in liquid nitrogen then blast the top with the plasma torch again. If that doesn't work I'm out of ideas.”
The other two nodded their assent and began setting up for their 'Hail Mary' try as they nicknamed it. They were going to run the whole thing remotely because there was a chance the entire thing could spectacularly and explosively shatter.
If someone's life was at risk Dr. Ross wanted to be present because it was his decision and responsibility. The Rube-Goldberg contraption his technicians had set had a fog of liquid nitrogen coming off of it underneath the plasma torch cutting head.
The senior tech looked over at the Doc, “We are ready Sir.”
Dr. Ross was praying this was the right action, “Begin!”
The plasma torch flashed to life and began its preprogrammed cutting routine. One the techs let out a breath, “Nothing, not even a scorch mark.”
The senior tech ordered, “Alright going to procedure two.”
The egg began to slowly rotate in its frozen bath and the torch's cutting path altered to just a straight cut. Fog rolled only a short distance up the egg, as the once immersed portion came under the torch and everyone waited for something, anything to happen.
Anticlimactically nothing at all happened to the slowly rotating egg under the torch. Dr. Ross could see the frustration in his techs faces and he was guessing that this not what they were expecting.
“Is there anything else you can try?” He asked the frazzled men and one woman.
The young man shook his head in disgust, “Well you can drop it into the sun or maybe Nuke it but I wouldn't take any bets against it.” He said taking his goggles off.
Dr. Otto remembered Bernard Johnson had suggested the strange shielding from the anomaly could have been erasing any of Mr. Morgan’s PSI signature as well as for protection.
The tests here proved that there might be something to that, if the initial heat from the anomaly was to keep people away until it had done its work. Certainly nothing they had found here gave a reason why it stayed so hot at its landing point.
He supposed he could always ask the Academy for advise but seeing as one life had already been lost he wasn't willing to risk another to the anomaly. If it couldn't be cracked then he would have to settle for containment as he signed the order to seal it into a cryogenic capsule in OPSI’s high security vault.
A dreaming Jake, child-like asked his story teller, “And what happened next?”
The serene voice sang, “The great ball of fire fell from the sky. Thunder shook the heavens and a terrible wind blew over the great forest. Many Thunder-walkers fell and couldn't go on, but as a long cold rain, rained and rained, many changed.
From the great to the small many began to learn how to talk. It was the time of the Great Fall. Times were very hard and food was scarce but those who lived learned much and those lessons helped bring on the new beginning and the re-birthing.”
A sleepy Jake asked, “What was the name of this story again?”
The gentle voice answered, “Where dragons come from.”
Octavia Washington grew excited as she read the twelve year old report. It looked like they had tried everything to just get a sample but the anomaly had resisted all of them. It had a great potential and now all she had to do was write up the funding request and deal with the bureaucracy.
It should help that she'd had a great deal of success translating mutant and paranormal effects into workable everyday solutions. Of course, she wasn't the only scientist who was researching how these amazing people and artifacts managed to do what they do.
After all, knowing it was possible was always half the battle and her patents from her work had enriched not just herself but her employers as well. Her latest work on Aero-Gels would help reduce weight for the automotive and the aerospace industry. Octavia couldn't wait to get started!
Hunter slammed the funding request down on the Director's desk “Save us all from inter-service rivalries! The Air Force is looking for UFOs and one falls into the Navy's backyard. Do they tell anyone, no! Then what did they do? They give it away! For thirteen years I've hunted this monster and where is it but in someone's downstairs freezer!”
The director smiled, “I would hardly call OPSI's cryogenic vault a downstairs freezer Mr. Hunter. We are fortunate the request for the release of anomaly #1703 passed though our department and got flagged.”
Mr. Hunter and his team were a very special resource that he had inherited along with his position. They were very good at taking care of problems that eluded the ULTIMATE and he was well pleased with their successes even though sometimes like now “special” handling was required.
Hunter's eyes almost glowed with anticipation at the hunt coming to its climax and the director was well aware of how persuasive the smaller man could be. He however hadn't achieved this position by being intimidated by anyone and if his department had a rather vague name The Office of Research and Archives with a modest budget, his black project budget was more than many other countries Gross National Product.
“According to OPSI's report they tried just about everything to crack the anomaly,” said the director holding up a hand to forestall Hunter's objections.
“Yes, I know you have your own methods, but the oversight committee has taken an interest in Miss. Washington's project. They have visions of impenetrable body armor and tanks, and have directed me to “guide” her project to a favorable outcome for the department.
Hunter's displeased expression spoke volumes, “The fools know not what they meddle in. I have fought this monster's brood before and it is best caught and killed in the egg.”
The director's smile broadened “Of course not! That's why I have arranged for you and your team to be the security for Miss Washington's project. If anything say was to happen, you would be there to “take care” of matters. At your usual rate of compensation naturally. Is that a good enough solution for you Mr. Hunter? ”
“I would have full authority over security matters?” Hunter looked sharply at him.
“Thinking of a “stalking horse” Mr. Hunter?” The director prided himself on effective management of his “special resources.”
“Indeed, the monster was always protective of its spawn. If it is still alive we might very well lure the beast out. If not, well like you Americans say, ‘Shit happens.’” Hunter smiled back at the Director. “As you said, a good enough solution.”
A Dream of Dragons continues in Part 2!
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional A big thanks goes out to Paula for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Cathy who pre-read this. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
PS: It's been brought to my attention that others have helped with this one too. Please accept my apologies for forgetting to credit the wonderful help you've given me, Hope, Janice and others! Thank you!
Dimitri Mitsopoulos eyed the wondrous object in front of him. It had taken him fourteen years to find it but there it was. The journey to reach this point was one that even the legendary Odysseus might envy. He had begun with gathering the minute traces that had caused those rainbow tinted sunsets, so long ago, after Angelo Echidna had erupted.
That task alone had been difficult, but then no one had the slightest clue of how to make sense of what the analysis had found. Dimitri had to go back to school and almost founded a new area of research just in that endeavor.
The amazing surprise was, the particles had indications that they were from a single organic source, which of course was impossible. Nothing organic could be big enough to, even if vaporized, to cover the entire planet in particles thickly enough to cause those rainbow sunsets.
What he had found had led to advances in refractive materials and though that distracted from his real search it did pay the bills. Dimitri wondered sometimes at fate's hand, because if he hadn't developed those advances, it was likely that he would never had gotten this position.
He had gone back to basics and started pouring over every report of falling objects of unknown origin after the eruption. There had been many ‘false alarms’ but coming across that article about that poor man in the United States who had gotten killed by a meteorite had led him here.
A cross search had taken him to Octavia Washington and her project. His credentials from his research had convinced her to have him as part of her team. Dimitri's status as a foreign national made him unpopular with the project's security although Mr. Hunter, the head of security, looked to be an emigrant himself.
Not to say that was the only mystery concerning Mr. Hunter and his close associates. In theory security was so tight because of the anomaly, but Dimitri suspected that the United States government was involved. Why was a mystery to him. After all, it had shown no signs of life for over fourteen years!
The question was why did Orion Research hire, to all practical purposes, a group of mercenaries for their security? He might have spent his entire life in academics but that didn't mean Dimitri couldn't recognize dangerous people when he saw them.
His field work had taken him all over the world and he was no stranger to certain brutal realities of the world. Every one of Mr. Hunter's six close associates were as scary as any he had ever met.
All of them had that rather formal politeness that truly dangerous individuals processed. Saladin, the large bald dark man whose sharp eyes missed nothing, was Mr. Hunters second-in-command. Mr. Sato was an enormous, sumo wrestler-like, man who moved entirely too quietly for someone of his size. Mr. Akna was a small, dark, Iniut man whose hands were always busy, usually with a knife.
Just as unnerving were the twins who were called Richard and Jane Smith. They spoke with a soft southern United States accent, but no one who knew them for long mistook them for fools. They used their natural good looks and people-skills to ruthlessly get what they wanted.
However in just pure creepiness Mr. Whyte out did them all. His aristocratic English accent and arrogant manner was enough to drive anyone to distraction, but he made no secret of the fact that he was a mage. It didn't take long in his company to convince one that whatever magic he dealt with it wasn't of the gentle variety.
Dimitri thought that all of their names were aliases and that, along with everything else made him very uneasy. That being said, working with Octavia Washington was a real pleasure. Their end goals might be different since she wanted to know how the anomaly worked and he wanted to know its origins.
The path to their goals was the same. The first week of work had mostly been just measuring, photographing and working out a testing procedure. During one such meeting, Gregory, a young testing tech had asked what if it really was an “egg.”
Dimitri had suggested that they go and find out. Everyone had followed him out curious just what he was going to do. The anomaly was on a turntable so it could be moved without being touched.
He had simply turned the controls to rotate it at its fastest speed which wasn't that fast but it didn't need to be. A few guffaws had broken out as they figured out what he was doing as soon as he started.
Dimitri admitted to himself he had been showing off for Octavia, as he hammed it up while waiting for 5 minutes to pass and then stopped the turntable. When the Egg was not being studied there was a system of lasers to measure the slightest movement, so Dimitri had armed the system to check for movement. The set up had been insisted upon by Mr. Hunter.
Everyone held their breath, but even he was surprised when the egg slowly began moving. The only sound was the motion alarms from the lasers as they all just watched until Mr. Hunter and his associates came tearing in armed to the teeth.
The head of security was very upset that a test had been run without his knowledge and it took Octavia some time to mollify him that it had been a joke and not a serious test at all.
All the while the rest of the scientists had stood there watching the egg as it wobbled to a stop. Gregory the young man who had asked the question to start with, commented, “That answers that.”
“Whee!, giggled Jake as he spun around and around. Dizzily he went round and round on the giant lily pad floating on the fern forest surrounded pond while bird sized dragonflies flitted hither and yon. His pad gradually slowed and began spinning the other way as Jake rocked back and forth joyfully.
Feeling something wrong, he looked up to find Mama looking down disapprovingly at him. “Why did you leave when I was showing you how to 'see' magic young lady?” She asked.
“Everything started spinning Mama!” Jake giggled excitedly.
Upon seeing the stern look in her eyes, “I just wanted to have a little fun. I didn't mean to do anything bad Mama”
Lovingly she gather him up in her fore-claws, “I know dear one. You just have so much to learn and time is growing short. Shall we begin?” as the dragon restarted her lesson.
Dimitri and Octavia poured over three years of reports from their testing. Sipping at his mostly cold coffee, Dimitri considered what they had learned. That first test from that long ago first week had demonstrated the anomaly wasn't solid but had a fluid center.
Despite appearances the outer shell wasn't solid either but an intricate structure at the ‘nano’ scale. He remembered trying to explain their findings to their dear head of security.
“Imagine an ancient army armed with shields and spears. Depending on the threat, their formation would change to best thwart an attack. They could close ranks and become denser or open ranks to let them let it pass though harmlessly or change the angle of attack to best redirect their enemy’s blow,” Dimitri illustrated with his hands.
“The anomaly does much the same but it does it at such a small scale and so quickly it appears that whatever damage we attempt has no effect at all. In truth in every test the entire structure is actively working at protecting itself” Octavia concluded.
“What we have found so far is that the anomaly is a very advanced nano-scale structure. Dr. Mitsopoulos has identified traces that indicate of a possible organic origin, but the mechanism is such that we are only now beginning to analyze it.” Octavia lectured with passion.
“We are in the position of trying to reverse engineer something that we barely have the knowledge to understand. The complex nature of using memory retentive materials, heat expansion, and other tools for it to achieve its function is ten to fifteen years beyond what we can do now.” Octavia pointed out.
Dimitri grunted, “More like twenty. The processes although complex are also quiet elegant.”
As always Mr. Hunter wanted to know, “So how do you destroy it?”
Miffed Octavia replied, “I wasn't aware that we were here to destroy anything Mr. Hunter?”
“Miss Washington if what you discover from it is to be used for protection then we must know just how much we can depend upon it.” The head of security riposted.
Seeking to defuse the looming fight, Dimitri pointed out, “The best chance to overwhelm the anomaly would likely be to cover the entire structure with many different kinds of stress. You are not trying to destroy a ‘thing’ but in this case a set of ‘processes’. If you can interrupt the processes enough the protection should break down.”
“Once we know more we should be able to target specific areas to disable the processes but right now we are learning more about advanced nano-scale engineering with every passing day. Some of these processes are still just ideas we have seen written in some journals, here they are real!” Octavia said still upset with their annoying security chief.
Dimtiri mused that Mr. Hunter hadn't improved at all in the intervening years. In fact he had grown certain that most of if not all of Mr. Hunter’s associates were supra or para human. The difference being supra was from mutation, while paranormal was linked with the supernatural or magic.
That last was very troubling, for if having a team of mercenaries as guards was unsettling, having a group of capes, in costume or not, present was nerve racking. Part of ULTIMATE provisions had stated that no national government could directly control a supernal human. They could regulate and sponsor but not give orders too.
At the time it was signed in 1961 the presence of Soviet supranormals and missiles in Cube had almost ignited a world war. The skirmish between the Soviet and American capes had almost pushed the Doomsday Clock past the point of no return.
With the increasingly active affairs, super-villains were playing in world events, the need for a united organization to combat these threats was ever present. The ULTIMATE had addressed this with member sponsored ‘super reaction teams’.(SRT)
The SRT was the only instance when a government could order a super under the treaty, even if it was tantamount to a 'draft'. The term was usually two years with generous benefits and many volunteered for service. Unfortunately just as many went rogue to avoid that service.
Most considered the so-called ‘citizen of the world’ non-national supranormal policy a complete fiction. Even if the employment of supers as 'consultants' was illegal, every nation thought of it as a 'if you don't get caught it's not wrong.'
In the three years they'd been studying the anomaly they had found only mysteries and not threats to any one. There was always the fear of the unknown and what secrets lay within their mysterious guest could certainly qualify for that. Was there fear enough for ‘someone’ to fund a very dangerous team of mercenary capes for three years, working a desk?
“Is it time Mama?” Jake sleepily asked becoming cramped in the small space.
“Hush, back to sleep little one. Not yet, but soon.” she gently eased him back to sleep.
Octavia was displeased with the current restrictions which were limiting her research. The anomaly was now in a very secure enclosure that she was sure was a shocking case of overkill. The damn enclosure made access to the anomaly much more difficult and therefore slowed her research.
If that wasn't enough the outside of the Lab was more like a fortress now that the despised Mr. Hunter had increased security. She sarcastically wondered, which army was going to attack them.
Dimitri Mitsopoulos, her trusted second-in-command of the research team, had been under even more harassment by Mr. Whyte, the wizard in security. Dimitri's multi disciplined background had been enormously useful, but the stress from this stupidity was beginning to tell on him.
All this scrutiny was just because, in the last three months, movement had begun in the anomaly. Movement so slight, if not for the lasers, they never would have detected it. Caution was admirable, but Mr. Hunter's reaction was extremely over the top, there hadn't been any other changes.
Octavia double-checked the calibrations on the sensors festooning the anomaly herself, unwilling to force a lab tech to go through the gauntlet of actually entering that damn enclosure.
“Little one, it's time,” the gentle voice roused Jake from his slumber.
Trying to stretch he found that he couldn't. Why was it so tight in here he wondered?
“Precious one I have done all I could to prepare you for this moment, but I still fear it will be most unpleasant for you. You'll have the right to hate me for what I've done, but I hope the future will allow you time to forgive me.”
Still dreaming Jake muttered, “I don't hate you Mama. I love you.”
“I know my little one,” she said softy, “but it is time for you wake. I died many years ago now and now it is time for you to live.
Jake although cramped and half-awake resisted and stubbornly clung to his dream.
“WAKE” roared the Dragon!
Octavia frowned, “That isn't right.” She rechecked the setting, just as the alarms went off. Holding her ears she looked at the control booth above shouting, “Turn it off already!” She saw Mr. Hunter rush into the booth.
He grabbed the mic, “Doctor you should leave the enclosure NOW.”
Biting back an angry retort, Octavia caught some movement in the corner of her eye. Turning, she the anomaly move! At first just a wobble, then one side collided with the ranks of sensors and cameras.
She backed away disbelievingly as the clear sound of an impact from inside the Anomaly echoed in the now far too small enclosure. The lasers detected movement but if certain thresholds were passed it would also trigger a security lock-down.
Octavia ran for the door, but another crack echoed from behind her. She reached the door just as the automatic safeties slammed into place sealing the door into place and the lock-down alarm added its blare to the cacophony.
Dimitri sprinted to the control booth realizing that Octavia was inside the enclosure. He had been overseeing the assembly of some new equipment when the lock-down alarm sounded. With no tests scheduled for today no one had been in the booth but for one security guard.
Mr. Hunter stood calmly in the center of chaos as his associates rallied their troops. Dimitri could see some tracked robots as well as other heavily armed guards quickly scrambled outside the tripled-wall enclosure.
“Open the Locks! Let her out!” Dimitri yelled as he slid to stop.
Mr. Hunter calmly replied, “We can't do that Dr. Mitsopoulos. That would compromise the enclosure. Dr. Washington knew the risks when she began this project. I must admit a certain amount of satisfaction after spending four years being ridiculed by you scientists as a paranoid control freak.”
“Sometimes Doctor there really are monsters in the closet,” Mr. Hunter told him.
The large dark man Saladin quietly came in carrying a very long wooden case and stood at Mr. Hunters side as they watched the enclosure.
Jake woke unable to move. Panicked he didn't know what was going on. He was packed into some kind of box or something!
The last thing he remembered was endless dreams of the Dragon with her smoothing voice. Having problems breathing he smashed at the wall with his hand. Hearing something crack, heartened Jake struck it again.
Once more and a piece fell away and he could see light! Something on his back felt weird but almost from instinct he threw his shoulders at the promise of more light.
Octavia with her back against the locked-down door turned to see the impossible! For fifteen years the anomaly had resisted all of man's attempts to harm it and now she saw a fragment fall from it as something from inside struggled to get out!
Her mind refused to calculate the force that in theory would be required to breach that shell even though breaking out would be easier than in. Yes, a shell. Octavia had denied the obvious for years that it could really be an egg. Now it was hatching and she was in here with it.
Octavia’s breath caught as a slender hand came into view. Someone was inside? The reports had said that a Jacob Morgan had disappeared the night the anomaly had landed, but it didn't look like the hand of an adult much less a man's.
A tremendous glass shattering crescendo caused her to cover her ears again. Swallowing hard she saw a long ivory claw the size of her hand crack open the side of the egg. Octavia half in fear and half in awe wondered just what was being born.
In the booth Dimitri watched fascinated at seeing what he had chased for fifteen years come out of the darkness. Mr. Hunter merely grunted and exchanged a look with dark Saladin, Monsters.
Jake half fell crawled into the light. His head was swimming with unfamiliar sensations. Bumbling into some of the many pieces of equipment around him, he blinked in surprise. Where in the world was he?
Looking around himself he was in some sort of Plexiglas box filled with stuff out of a bad sci-fi movie. Above the box was some kind a control booth with a brunch of people staring at him.
Confused Jake continued looking and saw a black woman in her early thirty's maybe, but the fear in her eyes didn't help. Looking behind him he saw a trail of goo leading from an honest-to-god egg just like out of “Aliens”!
Bewildered he turned back to the woman to ask for help, but only a hissing like croak escaped his lips. He was going to try again when her eyes got even larger but focused behind him.
Wondering how his dream had turned into this nightmare, Jake turned to see what was happening now. The egg and even the goo-trail behind him was glowing!
Octavia was afraid but she couldn't stop herself from looking at the strange creature that had hatched. The slim hands she had seen earlier were attached to a young girl maybe in her mid-teens. Her skin was very fair and smooth, but it was the hair that stood out. It had a feathery like quality to it and seemed to flash with all the colors of the rainbow like a hologram.
She seemed very human if you discounted the large bat-like wings on her back. Looking closer the rainbow-like effect from the hair seemed to carry over to the wings as well.
The six or eight inch long claw she had seen earlier had come the top of the wing's humerus limb and unlike a bat's developed thumb was sheathed within the root somehow.
Octavia's inspection was interrupted when it tried to speak. The creature seemed confused and lost. Well even if they couldn't learn anything from her at least they had fragments of the egg now for testing. Then the egg shell started glowing.
Dimitri watched everything in complete fascination. He had never seen or heard of anything like this winged girl before except, maybe, a demoness from myth. The array of sensors was out but he could see her feet were abnormal but aside from that she looked quiet human.
Mr. Hunter was ordering the enclosures gas containers released but somehow when the egg hatched an EMP (Electro Magnetic Pulse) had knocked out all of the close electronics. Taking the news in stride he ordered the now inactive remote tranquilizer guns to be fired manually.
Richard Smith inhumanly leaped ten feet to one of the remote guns while his sister did the same confirming for Dimitri that they were indeed Supra's.
Men with ‘tranq’ guns were trying to position themselves while a robot armed with one trundled into the enclosure.
Dimitri could hear Mr. Hunter whispering in an unknown language but his tone made it clear it was urging them to move faster. He could see Octavia raptly studying the young woman, ever the scientist. With everyone’s attention focused on their strange guest almost no one saw the shell begin to glow!
With his observer's eye and years of studying the anomaly he recognized he was really seeing it disassemble itself. Each glowing spark was like that analogy he had made about it being phalanx like and it looked like they had new marching orders.
Now others were aware and Dimitri could hear their exclamations of awe, for it was something seen only in special effects for movies. Mr. Hunter was instead looking with an analytical eye as if unsurprised at his prey's latest move.
Dimitri was starting to wonder just who in Hades, Mr. Hunter really was and just how much he knew that he never told them. He could see the sparks start to swirl and in a tornado like spiral move towards the young woman.
She looked just as amazed by it as everyone else. It settled around her like a swarm of fairy's about their queen. In a brilliant flash of rainbow colored light the sparks turned her into a shiny mirrored sculpture that faded as it settled into place.
Jake blinked his eyes as the incredibly beautiful light show drifted over him and gently covered him like a fine blanket of silk. It was then he noticed his changes. What had happened to his arms and hands?
His heart began beating faster when he looked down and saw his new additions. Breasts? I have breasts. Trembling fingers touched his groin and found only a smooth flatness.
Afraid that he might be sexless his fingers probed and felt the seam of his or is that her sex? What had the dragon done to him? Growing aware that she was naked and on display in this glass box Jake covered herself and jerked in surprise when her wings unfurled and covered her like a cloak made from fine mail.
Entranced Octavia watched as the flock of sparks had become like a smooth coat covering her from head to toe, which you couldn't see except for the rainbow hologram like shimmers. The girl was plainly in shock and examining herself as if surprised at what she found.
The Scientist in her was wondering just what was happening here. Was this some creature from somewhere else or just the transformed Mr. Morgan?
With a cough of compressed air the first dart struck the girl. With a dimpled ripple of rainbows running across her skin or was it hide(?), it bounced off.
Jake was trying to understand what was happening when something struck her. It stung and she looked to see what had hit her. Laying nearby was a damaged dart like she had seen on TV for tranquilizing zoo animals.
Another sting hit her and she spun around to find yet another one had hit her. She saw someone on top of the cube that was aiming a gun like tube at her. Jake was afraid and yet angry at the same time.
Remembering the woman who was inside with her, Jake turned towards the airlock style door. The person she was looking for scooted out as the door opened and a thing kinda like a little tank rolled in. It was about the size of a riding lawnmower, but the gun and camera on top wasn't for yard work.
She grabbed the gun on top and was surprised when it came off in her hand. What was this thing made of, Styrofoam or something? Jake got stung in her shoulder and threw the torn gun at it.
Blinking her eyes she was shocked when her target shattered! The man on top flew off from the impact. Slapping at the sharp impact to her throat, she dropped to her knees more from shock than harm. Pulling her hand away, there were the parts of yet another dart.
Jake stood holding out her hands hoping to stop this. Her eyes locked with the woman on top of the cube with the gun, and without batting an eye she fired.
What was with these damn people couldn't they see she wanted to give up? The dart struck her in the breast and damn it, that hurt! Well if they wanted a fight, Jake thought as she grabbed the lawn tractor thing hoping to find something on it to throw but instead picked up the entire thing!
Flabbergasted she froze for a moment and then as her father used to say “Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.” she threw the whole thing at the bitch that had been shooting at her.
With a satisfying crash it demolished the gun, but the bitch on top had leaped away. There was a small opening now to the outside but she might be able to get out now. Leaping she had no trouble getting to the opening. It was a little small but as she pulled on it, the Plexiglas like stuff bent like it was metal.
Just where the hell was she? This was like Star Trek's ‘transparent aluminum’ or something! Damn it! Another sting hit her in the side. She pulled herself up onto the top of the cube. Shielding her eyes, she surveyed the room about her.
There were about ten guys in here with two large doors at each end with the cube sitting in the middle. Most of them looked armed with those tranquilizer rifles, but two had something that reminded her of flamethrowers because of the large tanks on their backs.
They all had gas masks and were dressed like SWAT guys. Sniffing, she indeed did pick up something in the air and saw vapor coming in from vents in the roof. The booth was midway between the doors and that was where whoever was giving the orders was.
Jake hesitated for a breath fearing the gas might knock her out soon. Looking into the booth she had no problem picking out the ones who were in charge. The taller man had a scholar look about him, but the one that drew her eyes was the small dark man.
She saw hate in them. Jake didn't know what was going on, but this man would kill her if he could, of that she had no doubts. That hate made up her mind. Leaping off the top, she charged for the farthest door for it had fewest defenders.
Whoa, what a rush! Jake exulted at the speed she was moving. More darts were fired but now she was moving not many hit besides they didn't do much but sting a bit. Rushing up to the door she flung one of the guys from her way. Awed, she watch him fly across the room!
Hey, that lawnmower thing hadn’t been fragile, she was just one helluva' lot stronger now! Wham! A large arm threw itself around her and grabbed her arm trying to force her into a submission hold. Twisting around she saw it was that Sonuvabitch that had started the shooting at her!
Almost in instinct she flung her wings opened and he spun away. Damn she must have a wingspan of nearly twelve feet!
Seeing movement in the corner of her vision, the bitch that had to be his twin slid to stop next to one of the tank armed men and grabbed the nozzle.
Jake had just about had it with these flackers, she put her head down and charged!
Calmly the blond witch waited until the last second and then fired! A steam of foam jetted out!
Jake felt the foam hit and was determined to get out no matter what, but the blasted stuff was still expanding and soon she lost traction with the floor. She could and did tear the stuff but the slippery inflating goo lifted her off the floor.
It was like being covered in marshmallows! Jake was having some trouble breathing though the stuff and a sense of claustrophobia grabbed her along with the fear of suffocating. Soon she couldn't see or hear anything as the foam swallowed all sensations.
Dimitri forced his hands to relax as the restraining foam captured the girl-creature. She would still be able to breath but it wouldn't be easy. He wondered what he had just seen because he knew he saw her try to surrender. That wasn't a response of a newborn but something that had past experiences. In his own mind he didn't know if she was a person or a creature although it was clear what Security thought.
Mr. Hunter had disregarded the surrender attempts. He had given orders the creature be subdued no matter what she did. It didn't get past him that the head of security had let out a long slow breath when she fallen to the foam for all of his projected confidence.
She had been immune to the darts and to the gas as well since the foam's movement gave evidence to her continued consciousness. Richard Smith who was undoubtedly was a supranormal was thrown almost causally from her.
Dimitri had some ideas but he needed to talk to Octavia to try to sort out and focus his thoughts. He had been grateful that she gotten out without any harm.
A disheveled and breathless Octavia came in and silently their eyes met knowing that they had much to discuss.
Mr. Hunter said to them, “Doctors, if you please, report to the conference room for a debriefing and prepare a report for me by tomorrow.” Finished he turned and left the booth along with his silent shadow.
Jake felt herself being lowered to the floor but still couldn't see or hear anything because of the bloody Styrofoam. She tensed waiting for a chance to escape when her soft prison started dissolving in a sticky nasty mess!
She tried to fight to her feet but it was as slick as wet ice. Jake was pawing at her mouth and eyes trying to keep the gooey junk out when a jet of water slammed her into the wall!
Overcoming her panic at being pinned by the powerful river of water washing over her she discovered again that being stronger meant nothing when you didn't have anything to push against.
Abruptly it cut off dropping her coughing to the cold hard floor. Jake brought her hands to her groin and breasts that were still throbbing painfully from the jet of water. From her eye level with the floor she could see the water and goo draining away into a grate in the center of the concrete floor.
Craning her head about she saw she was in a box about thirty foot by thirty foot, with a large mirror on one wall about twenty feet off the floor. The rest of the room was featureless except for some slits in the ceiling where the lights were and water dripping from one of them suggested that was where her unwelcome bath had come from as well.
Undoubtedly the mirror was two way, but there was no sign of a door. Thinking of something she read of an really nasty jail cell in ancient Rome that was just a carven pit of solid rock that the only way in or out was though a hole in the ceiling, she carefully examined the slits up there.
Jake could see where they helped concealed a ten foot section of roof that looked if it could be moved. Even if she could learn to fly up there she didn't see how she could lift such a huge block. With no leverage it was just impossible but what about this wasn't.
Wrapping her arms about herself she felt her breasts. Trying to keep from crying and feeling sorry for herself she examined herself. If someone were watching, let the damn flackers get an eyeful as she shot them the finger!
Standing far enough back so she could see all of her new self in the mirror, Jake recognized her face. It was the same the dragon had worn in their shared dream! She was girlishly slim with breasts and hips that left no uncertainty she was female. With a little shock, she noticed the flash of blue in her belly button. Touching the smooth stone she found there, Jake realized she had still had the dream-stone that first started this adventure.
Her skin was still fair but the addition of that glowing stuff from the shell gave it a rainbow shimmer. Jake ran her fingers though her glittering hair that had even more of a multicolor thing going with holographic like shifting. It was very soft and had a feathery like texture and came down to her shoulders.
Twisting her head, Jake saw she could turn her head a lot further than anyone she had ever seen before. She could see what was almost a horse-like mane, running down her back and covering the area where her wings joined her back and shoulders.
She had six limbs now with the addition of the wings. They were very muscular and more like legs than arms. The soft skin covered wings reassembled bat-like wings more than birds, but while a bat's wing claw was its thumb hers was different.
The tallest arm of the wing had a lot of flexibility and movement and she could move it forward until it overreached her own hands. With that grim claw hidden in it, the wing was like a spear or sword.
It was hard trying to extend the claw but when she did, the thing was razor sharp with a serrated edge ginzu chefs would envy.
If that wasn't enough she almost freaked when she checked out her feet. She hadn't been walking on her ball and heel at all but on the knuckles of her toes! Stretched out her toes were webbed like the wings and were almost a foot long.
Rather than have a tail, she had this webbed foot design. Fighting the feelings of being very alone and one of a kind she saw each toe was very limber and folded under her foot so like she first thought walking on the knuckles of her toes.
Now she knew she was doing it, it was a bit strange but she could see it was done to help her fly. With her toes extended she could she how it could be like a bird's tail. She did still have toe nails but they weren't claw like or anything.
Thinking about claws and nails she looked at her hands. They were long and slender and everything she had desired. They were the hands of a beautiful feminine woman. Testing the edges her nails didn't seem unusually sharp, but they were a about a quarter inch long.
The nails also had a shiny rainbow sheen on them and appeared very hard. Thinking that the nails looked really thick she got another surprise as like with the wing claws she had another half inch of nail sheathed underneath the normal looking ones.
The odd part, wasn't that a laugh, was the clawed extensions weren't symmetrical, but shaped so that when she held her fingers together her they formed a rounded blade-like edge an inch or so from her hand.
Jake had played at the Society of Creative Anachronisms and a similar group named the Marklanders to know a little about blade work. An expert no, but enough to get himself hurt he used to joke, but now it was herself she supposed.
In moving her weapon-hand about, she noted this was meant for slashing while the wing claws were designed for punching though stuff. Well, the hand thing didn't seem to include the thumbs.
Since everything else had a purpose she looked at them. The thumbnail was broader across and when Jake got the claw out the damn thing was almost two inches long!
She hugged her knees to herself again dismayed at being a walking cutlery shop. It had to have been the dragon who did this her, Why? Despite trying not to, the tears began to fall and soon into a uneasy slumber.
Dimitri and Octavia glared at Mr. Hunter. “We need access to the girl if you expect us to have any thing other than a Scientific Wild Ass Guess (SWAG).” Octavia said angrily.
“Doctor to start with the anomaly was classified as a Class 6 artifact. Unknown origin with confirmed magical and or psionic potential involved in the death of a person.”
“You got permission to study it with the understanding that securing the anomaly would come first. We already know that Mr. Morgan was killed fourteen years ago by this thing and today it ripped opened eight inches of Glas-steel as well as destroying a mobile gun robot.”
Mr. Hunter took a breath, “Two of my people were injured, one with a broken leg and Mr. Smith with broken collar bone. We hit it with a total of nine harden tranq darts that can pierce a rhino's hide and they just shattered on impact with it.”
“The lab was flooded with enough gas to knock out an elephant but it ignored it. We were very lucky today, Doctors, that we have the latest generation of restraining foam. Even still it tore itself free of the foam but couldn't escape the self-sealing cocoon effect.”
Mr. Hunter placed both hands on the table and stood. “This generation of foam is rated for Epsilon class Supra's and it exceeded that considerably judging by the ease it escaped the enclosure.”
“I'm not going to endanger you or this project by allowing anyone close to this thing. You will have access to the recordings and remote sensors, but that is all.”
Octavia, upset, stood, “How can we determine anything with conditions like that? We need to have detailed electron scans and thorough examinations. Not to mention samples.”
Mr. Hunter grimaced, “Did you find any remains of the shell Doctor? Any type of remains at all?”
Octavia shook her head, “No, but we…”
“And you won't either Doctor,” the head of Security cut her off. “This thing is making certain that it leaves nothing behind. I don't think even if I let you make the attempt that you would have any success.”
Dimitri spoke softly, “Have you asked her?”
Octavia and Hunter turned to him as if they hadn't understood him.
He repeated himself, “Have you asked her? After all twice she tried to surrender but your men continued shooting. That argues that she has some ability to communicate, so have anyone even tried talking to her?”
Hunter looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, “Dr. Mitsopoulos I can appreciate thinking outside the box but in this instant let make no mistake. This thing is a monster. You can't reason or make friends with it. You study it and learn its weaknesses so the next time one like it comes around you know how to best kill it, nothing more.”
He stood angrily. “This brief is over. I need to know how to kill this thing. Anything else is irrelevant.” Hunter left the room leaving Octavia and Dimitri looking at each other wondering what really was going on.
Jake awoke on the concrete floor. She half wondered why she wasn't stiff or sore but the pressure in her bladder let her know business comes first. Annoyed she looked at the drain the center of the sloping floor and then at the damn window where her peeking Toms were no doubt getting an eyeful.
While Jake was asleep two buckets had appeared. They were made of simple white plastic and held water and something that had the look of mush to it. Of course nothing to eat with but fingers.
With as much aplomb as she could muster, Jake walked to the drain. Looking pointedly at the drain and back at the window, she shot them the finger. All of her life she had dreamed of being a real girl and now when it would have been nice to have something to aim with she had to squat with an audience no less.
It wasn't like when she had been male but a certain relaxing let the stream begin. She had a small amount of that multicolor hair kinda like a bikini cut right above her sex, but she didn't know what else to call it but a seal or seam?
Her groin had some sort of muscled fold that kept it sealed. At least a rapist would have one helluva time trying to force that open. Not that with all the claws and sharp edges she had would make that a concern.
Next problem was what was she going to wipe with? Carefully she tipped the water bucket just enough to splash some out. Wetting one hand she did her best to clean herself and then cleaned the soiled hand as best she could.
Well at least that tour of duty in Korea had been good for something. In Korea it was considered bad manners to eat with the left hand because that was the one reserved for 'cleaning.'
Using the same concept, she used her other hand to dip into the soggy mush that was something like oatmeal. After tasting it she nearly spit it out. Those Flackers were treating her like she was an animal or something!
That mush really was oats, like you would feed a horse! The buckets should've been a big clue, but even in survival, escape, resistance and evasion (SERE) training in the Air Force they had never fed them livestock feed!
Alright at first she was thinking she was being treated like some sort of rogue supranormal or something, but this was ridicules! Marching up to her damn peeking Toms she was going give them a piece of her mind!
Yesterday her attempts at speaking hadn't gone too well, but this was above and beyond cruel. In the beginning she could only kinda croak, but then Jake guessed she was having to learn how to speak all over again in a way.
Her entire jaw, lips, tongue, and even her vocal range had changed, but even so it didn't take too long before she could manage to get out, “Hey YOU!”
Jake winced at the volume, well she had a healthy set of lungs anyways, and almost made herself smile thinking of her breasts. Get your mind out of the gutter sweetie she told herself.
Addressing her peeking Toms, “Why am I here? What have I done to deserve this?” She said with her hands on her hips.
Not getting an answer, she had the sinking feeling that the nasty little guy with hate in his eyes was responsible for this humiliation. If that was so she had nothing to gain by trying to talk with these people.
Emotion always overcomes reason Jake had learned the hard way. Right now she just didn't know enough to try and escape. Trying to claw her way though that mirror was tempting but she was thinking seeing just how that damn section of roof opened might be more useful.
Jake mused well I might as well get used to eating horse food. Someone is going to catch just a little payback because of this she promised, but for now do nothing.
After she had finished eating her rather unappetizing meal it was tempting to see just what she could do physically now, but that would mean showing her captors as well.
Well, Jake was used to living mostly inside her head anyways, telling herself stories and dreaming of somehow becoming the woman she had always felt she should've been. She settled down in the center of the floor cross legged and daydreamed.
The next couple of days passed like the first. She would get up and demand answers from the peeping Toms. Eat that damn horse feed, and sit and meditate.
Jake did learn that the door indeed was in the ceiling but it lowered instead of lifted. That probably meant the way out was blocked above it, like an airlock arrangement.
It also got her thinking that this damn place was built like it had to house a major class villain like Doctor Mortis. That sneaky little trick with the door made her think that just breaking a hole in that glass wouldn't work. It was too obvious.
The simple thing would be if it was just that a mirror. The real observation area would be concealed elsewhere. Seeing how whoever had her had some damn strange materials available to them as proved by that transparent metal stuff it could be anywhere. If only she had Scotty to beam her up right now, but it looked if she would have to do this the hard way.
Jake had added a routine of stretching and isometric exercises to her day. Even with the lousy diet she still had too much energy to sit all day long. She had always envied those girl gymnasts on TV with the floor and parallel bar events, but being male at the time she had no way to live out that fantasy.
Now she had to be careful how much she gave away to the peeking Toms. Sure when she did make her escape attempt it would be pleasant to have some idea of what she could do, but she rather thought the surprises might work in her favor.
She concentrated on doing letter perfect men's pushup's not to build strength but for coordination. When she did break out of this joint, these ass-holes were going to remember it for a long, long time.
Welcome to the Third and Final Part of A Dream of Dragons! Sorry for the slight delay due to re-editing and being ill. I hate being sick!
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional A big thanks goes out to Paula and Cathy for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Ariel who pre-read this. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
By
grover
Dimitri and Octavia waited impatiently, as Gregory watched the recordings of their unhappy guest. His sister had been born deaf, and Gregory could not only sign, but read lips.
Mr. Hunter lived up to his promise of providing them with the recordings, but it was easy to determine that they had been edited. More to the point, all the sound was missing. Mr. Hunter seemed to forget that scientists are, by their very nature, puzzle solvers.
Gregory rewound a tad and watched a section over again. Finally he slid the translations to them. Reading over each other's shoulders, they quickly read the transcripts.
Young Gregory rubbing his tired eyes, “That is one pissed off girl.”
The two researchers looked up at him, questioning.
Picking up on that they didn't see it, Gregory explained, “Reading lips and sign rarely conveys emotional content. My sister taught me to look at body language and word choice, so you see it's not just the profanity, although she does use a few mild ones.”
“Look at how she stalks up to the camera, how stiff and focused she is. I'll bet a week's pay that she knows a lot more colorful metaphors than what she's using. She isn't just asking why she's being held here, she's spitting it out like venom,” the technician pointed out.
Octavia sighed, “Thank you Gregory, for your help. You know, of course, not to talk about this.”
Leaving the room, the young technician replied, “No problem Doc. I hope you two can work out a way for us to get back to our real work, and not this playing jail crap.”
Octavia looked at Dimitri, “This is insane. We know she is a sentient creature, and that idiot is treating her worse than I would a dog. The report I sent, was returned with a note, “They had confidence in how that damn fool was handling this 'situation.'”
Dimitri noted, when angry, her southern accent came to the fore. “I know. When I researched the security act, I found, that, since the anomaly was held responsible for Mr. Morgan's death, after he failed to appear after ten years, the ruling is; “Guilty, without a requirement for any type of trial”.
Octavia shook her head, “I knew my country had some twisted laws, but kill someone with an egg, and the chicken is guilty of murder?”
“It's not that simple. Since there wasn't any physical proof or evidence that she was hatched, Hunter is taking the stance that the anomaly simply altered forms, and that is covered under this law.” He explained.
“What brothers me the worst is the security on the outside. You would think they were getting ready to be invaded from some of the stuff I've seen. Look how little cooperation we're getting now. I believe that, as far as they are concerned, this project is over and they seem to be waiting for something, or someone, to happen to terminate the remains” He spoke sadly, gesturing at the winged girl on the monitor.
Octavia almost screamed, “This isn't right! She spent fourteen years inside the anomaly. Where did it come from? Was it really an egg? If so, what laid it? What could possibly come have came up those wonderful, complex designs we’ve seen? Moreover what other incredible secrets might be hidden within her?”
Dimitri said nothing, thought for a moment, and took a disk from his pocket, “Look at this and tell me what you think. I'll be back later.” He left her staring at the defiant girl demon, digitally frozen on the screen.
It took him several hours to get back to her, but even with testing interrupted, and perhaps even canceled, there was still past test information to be gone over in detail.
His reception was chilly upon returning to her office, “Why didn't you tell me?”
Dimitri tired and worn from stress, “Tell you what? Fifteen years ago a volcano in the Mediterranean blew up very mysteriously, leaving strange rainbows for sunsets for weeks afterward?”
“Or maybe, when those particles were analyzed, that impossibly, they suggested an organic origin, never mind that for it to be large enough to provide enough particles to cause said rainbows it would have to be so large it would make Godzilla look small?”
“How about, the anomaly landed within six hours of the eruption, but all of the other debris from the eruption didn't re-enter anywhere near where it did. Let's not forget our oh so considerate chief of security, who says that our demon girl is a monster and that the vanished island was named for a figure in Greek myth, said to be the Mother of all Monsters.” He finished. “We are scientists Octavia, but all I have are guesses. I'm sure Mr. Hunter knows how all of this ties together, but I have spent my life looking for answers for why a volcano didn't act like a volcano. I still don't know why.” Dimitri sighed.
“Not a Demon,” Octavia slid an opened book towards him.
With a puzzled look he sat upright and examined her offering, which showed a comparison of some sort between claws.
“A paleontologist was ridiculed, a couple of decades ago, when he suggested that dinosaurs had descendants among what most thought were creatures of myth, dragons. That is a close up picture of the Mighty Dragon, as he calls himself, a superhero in the Dallas Lone Stars Team.”
“Next to it is a velociraptor's sickle claw. As you can see, there are clear similarities between the two, but this is even more interesting.” She turned her monitor around for him to see.
There were two claws side by side again. While the comparison between the first picture was close, this one was nearly identical. After a moments study he recognized one of them as belonging to their guest. Dimitri raised a questioning eyebrow, “You're suggesting that our friend is a dragon?”
She nodded, “Gregory again,” she said fondly, “He had gotten this book as a present, as a child, and has lugged it around with him ever since. After translating for us this morning, he thought the wing structure looked similar, and found this to show me.”
Octavia put up the next picture, showing the wing of their guest. “Here is the picture he showed me, and it is close. Her wings are a bit different, but are clearly similar. According to the book's author, it is very like a pterodactyl's wing, and he might well have a point.”
“The difficulty lies in that there are so few pictures of them, that most people regard them as a hoax, or just some kind of a mutation. Add to the myth of Echidna, who was said to be winged and half snake, I think we have definitely linked our anomaly with some sort of very old creature, which is remembered mostly in myth.” Octavia rather proudly lectured.
Dimitri ran his hands though his thinning hair, examining her evidence and theories. None of these materials were in their data base, and no one had compared their guest's features with dinosaurs, although in afterthought, it should have been done. They had, instead, been barking up the wrong tree, as Americans say, by looking at demons and others with bat-like wings, not pterosaurs.
When one thinks of supernatural creatures, leather winged humanoids using magic, demons come mind before dragons. He seemed to recall stories where dragons could appear as humans, never one that was part way like their guest. A were-dragon he wondered half in jest?
“Alright, this does suggest at a mythical origin for the anomaly, and might explain why Mr. Hunter is so hostile to it if it is part of an old grudge. But if it is, that might also mean our security chief is a LOT more than he appears to be.” Dimitri relented.
“I tried getting in touch with this Mighty Dragon, but he dropped out of sight some years ago. An Internet search revealed he was seen a few months ago, helping someone in Mexico, but no one knows how to contact him, it seems.” she said wearily.
“For all we know that's what Hunter is waiting for, a relative to show up so the mighty hunter can bag a dragon. I wonder what the limit is?” her weariness turning to sarcasm.
Dimitri gave her a measuring glance, “I think there is more than a little truth in your statement, but that doesn't help us keep her alive. Our best strategy may be making the most optimistic projections we can, based on the potential gains from studying her.”
Octavia nodded, “We need to use our strength against his weakness. He just wants to destroy, but we're going to create. Perhaps we should be suggesting trying to gain her cooperation, after a few reports?”
She gave a tired snort, “We don't even have to fake anything. Whatever the anomaly transformed itself into, when it merged with her it was flexible enough to let her move freely, and hardy enough to resist those darts, as well as being light weight. Who ever designed, or birthed her, certainly has one hell of a research department!”
Jake wakened, crying. All of those endless dreams weren't just dreams, she knew now. She had thought that when the dragon had said their daughter needed his soul, that it was a figure of speech, but now she knew better.
She had become the daughter of which the dragon had spoken. Those memories of being taught about dragons and magic were real, at least in some way. There was just too much information for her to sort out.
Jake pulled her poncho tightly around herself. Her captors had left a blanket, so using one of her so sharp claws, she had cut it into a rough poncho like out of the Clint Eastwood westerns of her childhood.
Using one corner to wipe her tears, she took a deep breath and got up, to once more demand answers from her silent peeping Toms.
Mr. Hunter and Mr. Whyte carefully watched the recording of the monster crying. “So you believe this is the first sign that it is starting to break down?” Asked the one man Mr. Whyte would never dream of offending.
“Yes, indeed I do. I know that I've been champing at the bit wanting to proceed with my experiment, but this does look promising.” the mage explained. “It’s shields are amazing, but my combination of spells, and the robot's pincer, should enable us to secure one of the most dragon-like claws.”
“That alone would be priceless, but with the blanket gambit to gather any loose skin and other samples, that should keep our two scientists satisfied for the time being. There of course is risk, but the vault seems to be able to contain it,” the mage continued, confidently.
With his fingers steepled, his dark eyes burned, “As you say Mr. Whyte, the gains are tempting, but to date, the urine and fecal samples have yielded nothing useful. With that in mind I am not hopeful that the blanket ploy will be successful.”
“Particularly since the sensors hidden with the blanket stopped working, almost from the moment she handled it. The beast has grown very cagey, but the prize of a dragon's claw is such a temptation,” he mused.
The focus and the strength the small dark man possessed frightened the mage as few things ever did. Just once he tried to cast a spell upon Mr. Hunter, only to have his magic unravel like rotten string, and he awoke to a knife at his throat, with a promise of death if he attempted it again, along with a job offer. How could he refuse?
Coming to a decision, he continued. “We will wait two weeks, and if nothing invalidates your theories, then you may proceed. You may go Mr. Whyte.”
Jake had learned much in the last few days. She was beginning to make sense of that huge repository of information that was now in her head. As best as she could make out she had all this information, but it wasn't 'filed' in a fashion that let her use it easily.
The best way seemed to be doing something related, and the needed information would 'pop up.' Practical maybe, but it sucked for trying to plan an escape. It seemed that “MOM,” the dragon, was fond of 'on the job training' (OJT). Learning while doing was just fine, but Jake's natural inclinations were as a planner and thinker, and she was not the sort to just jump in and start 'doing.'
She still wasn't sure how she felt about what 'Mom the dragon' had done to her, but Jake was saving most of her displeasure for her captors. She didn't have a clue about what events led from 'his' dreaming trust with the dragon, to waking wherever 'here' was, as a ‘her’ in an egg, but was certain that being treated like an animal, or mega-super-villain, was unjustified.
Jake had learned where the actual control booth really was by faking a temper tantrum. During her morning 'bitch-out' session in front of the mirror, she had taken that nasty bucket of oatmeal and slung it across the room.
With her sharper eyes, and much better memory, she had marked where in the room the 'drips' had run at different rates. Unsurprisingly, evidence pointed to the area directly across from the mirror, which made sense, because using the mirror would give an unobstructed view of the entire room.
She had paid for her information, as her 'peeping Toms' had used the water-jets to clean her cell and, of course, on her as well. Jake had never done any acting, but had many a role-playing-game under her belt, that encouraged getting into a role.
She had done so with relish, cussing and making obscene gestures, until settling down wrapping her wings about herself.
Mr. Hunter sat in his office, quietly smoking a pipe, while the flickering of the TV provided the only light. Tobacco was a pleasure he seldom engaged in, with all the modern taboos against the habit.
He considered the evidence supporting the current theory that the monster was beginning to break, and become mentally unstable. Additionally, although he had boosted external security, the monstrosity that had begot the beast he held imprisoned, hadn't given any indications that it was still alive. For that matter, none but those two armchair scientists had any interest in saving its life.
Still you had to give it to them. They knew how to play the bureaucratic game. Their efforts had pressured him to make the creature available to them for study. Mr. Hunter could understand their drive to study, but his own philosophy had something in common with certain, so-called, Christians, “Kill them all and let God sort them out.” The thought of HIM having anything in common with Christians was humorous, but that didn't solve the current problem.
This wasn't the first time in his long life he had worked as an administrator, but it was not a role he enjoyed. He far preferred the part of for which he had named himself, “The Hunter.” It was only for a chance, not at just any monster, but the greatest one of all, had he even considered it.
He had used his contacts with the director's people to bug the geological research station on Angelo Echidna, so many years ago. The Dream-stones the great beast had sowed the planet with had mostly been dealt with by the bounty he'd put upon them, by placing an ad in several jeweler's trade magazines. It had been expensive, but he had little need for wealth after all.
Mr. Hunter had recognized the stone in the monster child’s navel of course, but it had held little interest for him. The Dragon's claw was another matter altogether.
Permitting Mr. Whyte's experiment to proceed would serve several goals. They could test the monster's arcane defenses and, if successful, gather physical samples, as well as secure the mystically valuable Dragon's claw.
Reaching forward, he signed the documents allowing the experiment to proceed, as the program he was watching reached his favorite part. The 20th century had brought many marvels, but cartoons were his favorites, as he watched Elmer Fudd caution the audience to be vewy, vewy quiet, he was hunting wabbits.
Mr. Hunter chuckled indeed, for he was hunting far larger game. When hunting dragons you had to be not only vewy, vewy quiet, but vewy, vewy careful.
Octavia had objected when she learned of the plan to de-claw the dragon-girl, as she thought of the girl. In her dealings with everyone else it was always the 'subject.' Honestly, she wasn't sure what upset her the most. The increasingly more emotional state of the subject, and the plan to cut off parts of her, or just plain old dislike for anything the so-called Mr. Whyte was a part of.
Dimitri had been uncharacteristically silent when they had read that so-called testing schedule. She knew he believed the dragon-girl's 'instability' was nothing more than an act, and Gregory thought so as well.
She wasn't sure, because the dragon-girl had been locked up and treated as an animal for almost six weeks, and for humans that would be enough to cause them to start to 'break.'
What she and Dimitri both agreed on was that it shameful that the 'subject' was being treated like an animal at all. The girl wasn't an animal, to have her will broken like an animal!
Octavia had managed to get permission for them to be in the viewing booth during the extraction. It seemed that Mr. Hunter and his cut-throats were to be at the airlock, where they expected any escape attempt to be made.
The booth even, if the Dragon-girl knew where it was at, had six inches of Glas-steel set inside a foot and a half of ferro-crete. It rivaled the defenses of World War Two battleships. Inside, the full time operator had the water jets, various lethal and non-lethal gases, and could electrify the chamber, for ferro-crete was conductive.
Jake woke. She couldn't honestly tell what alerted her, but after being in this pit for so long, every sound and tremor was known to her. The 'stopper' of her jail cell 'bottle' was carefully being lowered.
In the past weeks, a boom had swung out, dropping her food and water buckets, but this time she could tell it was taking longer. Without moving a muscle, she felt the excitement go though her that her chance to escape might finally be here.
She didn't think any Las Vegas bookie would take the odds against her. An escape attempt from what was almost certainly an ultra security facility, in an unknown location, with absolutely no resources, was NOT likely.
Part of the reason she was still sane was her improved memory. She could remember, word for word, anything she'd read, even before her change, and Jake had read a lot! She re-read many of her favorites in the peace of her own mind, and one of those had struck a chord.
Gordon Dickinson had a short story, “Danger Human,”
which was about a human, unjustifiably imprisoned by some aliens, as part of an experiment. The prisoner had waited for years until just the right chance had come about, and had escaped the inescapable.
Well, if humans were dangerous, just wait till they get a load of Homo-Draconis and, as for the odds, well as another storyteller had said, “Never tell me the odds!”
Jake felt a slight 'ripple' that she now knew was magic. It had a nasty little odor about it, as it tried to latch onto her and wiggle its way into one of her claws. Resisting an urge to twitch, she remembered one of the many lessons Mama Dragon had drilled her in, during the long dreaming.
It was still annoying to only have the knowledge in times of abject need, but she skillfully worked the spell to effectively contain the other's efforts. The more power the other mage pushed into it, the more the pressure would build, until it rebounded onto the caster. Well, in theory anyways, because Jake had never cast any type of spell before, except in 'simulations.'
Damn! it was hard to keep from giggling at that last thought, as she watched her 'bottle's' breaking point rise. It canna' hold captain, it's gonna' blow! Jake was watching so intensely, she jumped when something grabbed her only clothes!
Her eyes flew open, and her hand grabbed the offending paw that dared touch her sole garment. Jake wasn't surprised to find another of those damn robot things. She could see the trail of magic that led to the robot, like a cutoff that let the caster stay safe while casting his magic. Unbidden, another cantrip came to her, that would take care of that and she grinned like a wolf. ‘Oh, he isn't going to like this!’
With a blast of mystic power, the bottle 'broke,' and with a rush of mystical lights, it was returned to its sender. Jake leaped up upon Robbie Robot, to sever the cables leading to the 'stopper' above her.
With a metallic squeal, her wing claws parted the metal cable and, with a lithe swing, she landed beside Robbie. She'd hoped her 'peeping Toms' would provide something for her to throw, and it was time to give it back.
Picking up Robbie, Jake gave a leap, along with a mighty assisted flap of her wings and, like Michael Jordan dunking a goal, stuffed the robot into the 'stopper!' Landing lightly, she turned and ran at the mirror.
Somersaulting into the air to slam feet first into it with bone jarring force, Jake did a swimmer's kick off, sending her flying back across the room, where her best guess had placed the real window, with her wing claws fully extended.
She rammed into it with an echoing boom, as the six inch claws punched though whatever the hell this stuff was made of. With a muscle straining heave she carved a huge 'V' shape into it.
Repositioning her claws piton-like into the wall as anchors, Jake grasped the bottom of the torn 'V' with her hands and, using her legs, pulled upwards. A torrent from the 'peeping Tom's' water jets caught her, but anchored as she was, it was useless.
A gust of in rushing air let her know she was on the right track. The cell was kept at a lower air pressure than the outside, to ensure that if any gases were used on her, they wouldn't escape to the outside.
She was almost inside when the first electric shock hit her. Jake ignored it, and another, much larger one, zapped her. Half-surprised her heart hadn't stopped; she slipped outside her prison cell.
Dimitri’s disgust at the proceedings had grown geometrically. His and Octavia's efforts to locate another dragon-like creature had, so far, failed. They had made some headway in getting access to the subject, but not much.
Mr. Hunter had proven himself well able to fight on a bureaucratic level, for he had managed to make this amputation of the girl's claw, sound like he was acceding to their requests.
His first time in the observation booth made him wonder again who he was really working for. It was almost certainly funded by some branch of the US government as part of some 'black' program. Bank vaults were easier to get into than this place!
His sharp eyes, after taking in the spaceship like controls, looked out the window to the girl. Was she really a dragon-girl, like Octavia believed? What did dragons have to do with his old quest about what had happened at Echidna Angelo?
She was curled up into a ball, with her face hidden under her wings. Certain that she was deeply asleep; the technicians began lowering the 'air-lock.' Dimitri was less certain about anything concerning her.
From the very beginning, when studying the egg, they had been amazed at the nano-scale engineering. Once the egg had hatched, and presented them with something more familiar, everyone seemed to have forgotten just how advanced that structure had been.
He had reviewed the tapes of the hatching, and the egg wall had been less than a half centimeter thick. That thin shell had resisted every test they could throw at it. What more remarkable designs were reserved for the treasure that lay inside?
All they knew so far was that she was strong, fast, difficult to harm and immune to some types of gases. Of course, you had to add in that they knew for certain that magic was involved, and that her creators/parents might well be creatures from myth.
Chuckling at his own musings, Dimitri schooled himself to pay attention to the proceedings, as the sampling robot was lowered into the enclosure. Glancing at Octavia, he saw her focus was firmly riveted on the subject.
It was one of the qualities he loved in her. He had admitted that he’d had fallen for her quite some time ago, but only to himself. Realistically, he knew any romance was doomed to failure, for they were both committed to their careers, aside from her officially being his supervisor.
The robot was finally on the enclosure floor, and it began moving up to the sleeping girl. The busy chatter from the headsets they wore alerted them. Mr. Whyte was ready to proceed, and Dimitri could feel the tension increase as everyone tensed up.
He wasn't an expert on magic, but had read what was available, since the anomaly was suspected to be of a magical origin. This ritual by Mr. Whyte was to cause her to stay asleep, and separate painlessly one of the wing root claws.
They were told that the claw was selected because it would hold portions of bone marrow, but neither he nor Octavia believed that, since their researches had revealed that, among wizards, dragon claws were very valuable.
The stress eased when nothing happened, and Mr. Hunter ordered the robot operator to retrieve the sampling blanket. Dimitri thought it was just another example of Mr. Hunter's blindness that he never thought the girl’s first reaction to getting a blanket, was to make clothing out of it.
Her tailoring would make getting the blanket, which was designed to pick up any loose skin cells or hair, a little harder to retrieve. Dimitri wondered if Mr. Hunter's prejudice would be his undoing, but not today, it seemed.
The robot arm reached out to grab the blanket, and then the carefully planned session came apart, as the girl seemingly levitated straight up, and landed on top of the machine!
The umbilical cable that had lowered it into the cell whip-lashed wildly, as her claws slashed though it. Blindingly fast, she slipped off of the robot, and picked up the entire machine, just like she had that other robot, back when she first hatched.
In slow motion, Dimitri watched the security tech hand slap the water jet controls, but he was far too slow, as she flew/leaped astoundingly, the thirty feet straight up to the airlock and slammed the now mangled machine into it, jamming it open!
Letting herself fall, she landed, incongruously lightly, and turned sprinting for the mirrored wall. With an incredibly agile twist, she collided, feet first, with the mirror, and launched herself right at them!
Instinctively, he and Octavia ducked behind the control panel as, with a deafening boom, the girl rammed the glas-steel window! The entire panel rippled like a sheet in the wind, as two claws punched though the, six inch thick, armored window.
In shock, they watched the claws slam themselves down, meeting together, creating a 'V' like slash in the tough, transparent metal. Dimitri knew the pressure in the cell was kept lower, to make the use of gases easier, but the girl effortlessly pulled the gashed metal inward, overcoming the pressure difference, while tearing open the window, like a can opener.
Water was running in from the water jets, trying to dislodge the girl, and he heard Octavia yell, “NO!”
She grabbed the tech's hand, as he reached for the lethal gas. “You'll kill us too! The cell is breached. Use the electricity.”
Dimitri jumped backwards, away from the water pooling on the panel and floor as the first jolt hit, but the second jolt, conducted by the water to the main panel, shorted it out with a shower of sparks and burning wiring, as the lights went dark.
Blinking his eyes, as the emergency lights cut in, he jumped at the soft, southern accented voice, “I really do hate to interrupt you two love birds, but I'm in the middle of an escape, so would you mind, very much, pointing the way out please?”
Security techs were still steaming from their near electrocution, but one still reached for his sidearm, when the girl stopped him cold, with a growl, “Don't! I've already proved I can rip transparent aluminum apart with these,” she said, flexing her claws, “Do you really want to see what they can do to flesh and blood? Well, DO you?”
Slowly, the two techs tossed their weapons towards the girl where she caught and tossed them back into her vacated cell. She took a quick step over to where they cringed, and took their headsets and badges. The girl causally slipped on one, and crushed the other in her hand, like paper.
Confused by the lovebird comment, both he and Octavia blushed when they realized they were holding hands. Quickly they took their hands back, embarrassed, as the girl laughed softly.
Dimitri, still blushing, had many months of getting accustomed to Octavia's accent, but the girl's was different. What really got his attention though, was her color shifting hair. Well, it was optical properties from the volcano remains that got him involved in all this, to start with.
The hair didn't seem so much like hair, as very fine optical fibers, and he wondered, ‘why use such fibers for hair?’
Octavia numbly pointed at the fire evacuation placard by the door and, at the Dragon girl's direction, tossed her and Dimitri's radios into the gashed open cell.
“Hmm, I would love to stay chat with you, Doctors Washington and Mitsopoulos,” glancing down at their badges, “Because I remember you from when I woke up, but maybe some other time,” she said as she added their badges to her collection, and turned to the heavy sliding doors.
Before Octavia could say the doors were locked down, the Dragon-girl forced her wing claws into the seams. With a scream of tearing metal, the doors were ripped open. Octavia was astounded, for the girl was orders of magnitude times stronger than her size suggested she should be.
As the girl rushed out, she swore the girl yelled, “Elvis has left the building!”
Dimitri seemed dazed, and she was still in shock as well. She hadn't been sure the surge would knock out the control room, but she had hoped. The odds were still against the dragon-girl making it out, but now she had a chance, no matter how slim.
Cursing in a language four thousand years dead, Hunter hurried down the hallway. His uniform was splattered with blood from Mr. Whyte's spectacularly failed magics, as all four of his limbs had spontaneously disconnected themselves from his body.
Rather fortunately for Mr. Whyte, trouble had been anticipated, and a medic was nearby, although just how much he would be able to do in such an extreme situation, was in doubt.
Saladin and Mr. Akna were close behind him, and the busy headset told him the Smith twins and Mr. Sato were at the only exit. Once again, the monster had reached out to strike one of his, and he darkly swore that it would be the last.
Jake ran down the hallway to the stairway revealed by the quickly memorized exit placard, while the flashes of yellow and red alarm lights kept time with the klaxon. She really did wish she'd had time to discuss a few things with Doctor Octavia Washington.
At least she knew a little more about where she was, Orion Research Labs. She had read that off their badges, for all the good that did her. She had gotten the idea of taking their headsets from that Bruce Willis movie, but the keycards were familiar from her military intelligence days.
As far as she could tell from her borrowed radio, the bad guys still didn't know the details of her escape, but were taking precautions of securing the facility, before moving to her cell. The stairway was guarded, and the elevators locked down.
With haste Jake jumped up, with her feet acting like springs, slapping down every camera she could find, but taking childish pleasure in how they shattered. Repeating her 'Jaws of Life' imitation, she used her claws to not only force the elevator doors open, but to rip it ‘just so’, so that last camera got trashed.
Turning, she used the Doc's keycard to open the stairway. With half-flight assisted leaps, she skipped the steps going from landing to landing. Just six giant leaps carried her three stories up to the first doorway.
“Damn!” she swore, seeing the face looking at her though the small window of mesh reinforced glass. Knowing she had a fight coming, a thought came to her. 'Who says you can't learn anything from popular media? Clint Eastwood in “Thunderbolt and Lightfoot” said the doors were always tough, but not so the walls.'
Mr. Sato narrowed his eyes focused on the stairway door, when the wall exploded! One of his security detachment was already down, having the ill luck of standing next to the wall. The Smiths were out of position, drawn off by the cameras monitoring the elevators, so it was just him.
His other four men cut loose with a hail of 9mm from their MP5's, which the monster completely ignored, as IT flew up and kicked two of them in the chests, slamming them backwards, down the hallway, while grabbing the other two and effortlessly tossing them down the stairs though the hole in the wall.
He charged, crushing IT against a heavy concrete pillar. Smiling grimly, he threw his not inconsiderable weight against her again, causing plaster to rain down upon them.
Where the hell had Odd-Job here come from? Jake had pretty well figured she was mostly bulletproof, but getting shot at was not fun at all. Then Wham! she got thrown into that pillar, but damn didn't he move fast!
So here she was again, trapped against another wall. A silly thought made her laugh, and Jake took pleasure from the look on Odd-Job's face. ‘How I escaped from an ultra security prison by watching TV!’
Taking her inspiration from professional wrestling, she reared her head back and head butted him! Seeing no reaction, she slammed her head into his again and again. After the fourth time, she stopped, watching his eyes cross themselves. Pushing him off of her, 'Damn he was a big'un!'
Squirming out between the unconscious Odd-Job and the pillar she cursed, 'Why couldn't mama have mademe taller? But nooo!' Jake moaned, as she mentally consulted her map and ran for freedom. No Flacking way was she going back into that hole!
She was running past offices, and some sort of laboratory doors now and, just maybe, she had chance to get free! Up ahead was another set of those Star Wars Blast doors. Skidding to a stop, Jake could see going though the wall on this one was out of the question, because the sliding doors extended past the door frame into the concrete wall.
Her purloined radio told her they had found out her trick with the elevator, and her time was ticking away. She couldn't see a way around it, so it was going to have to be the old fashioned way, though it.
Slamming her claws into the door seals, Jake exerted her strength, but was dismayed to see the metal start to give before the damn door. Alright, damn it if was going to be that way!
Bracing herself she started carving a hole though the door. Pounding footsteps behind her forced the issue! Grabbing the ragged edges of her hole with hands and wing claws, Jake slammed her feet into what she hoped was the last few inches of the door.
The resounding echo shook her teeth, but felt a satisfying give in the door. She was NOT! going BACK! in that HOLE! Punctuating with every word with a kick, and thankfully, it gave!
Fearing a welcoming committee on the other side, Jake used her arms to throw herself feet first into the room, rolling. Greeting her was the roar of gunfire! She dodged madly, hell these guys weren't using 9mm, she realized, as the thunder of massed 12 gauge shotguns, throwing thumb sized deer slugs, ripped the foyer apart!
Jake ran into the mass of guards and explosively spread her twelve feet wings. Knocked sprawling, they stopped shooting, buying her some time. Using every once of speed she had, she took off running for the promised sunlight, coming from the far end of the large entranceway.
Almost there, she silently repeated her mantra, almost there. Jake felt like screaming her frustration as two guys stepped from behind columns, wearing those foam gun things!
Throwing herself to the floor, she skidded underneath one squirt of that stuff, but the other man was made of sterner steel as he adjusted and began to cover her with it. She threw out her wings to shield herself, as the gunk began to expand.
She wasn't going back into that HOLE! Extending her finger claws, she dug into the polished floor. Her radio had been torn away, and with the dampening effect of the slimy foam, she didn't have a clue what was happening around her.
Jake despaired at first at the small chips she was making, but soon had a hand sized hole where she started ripping chunks of the floor up. Thankfully her wings had kept the foam from getting between her and the floor.
Finally her hand found what she'd been looking for, rebar! Grasping the reinforcing metal, and sliding her legs under her, she heaved! With a loud crack, the section of floor gave and she 'pushed' it towards where her photographic memory told her attackers were.
Shaking her hair free of odd blobs of foam, Jake stood. She'd gotten one of the Scrubbing Bubble guys, but the other hesitated a hair too long, as she bounced a fist sized fragment of floor off his helmet. Half-running, half-sliding on the foam slick floor, she punched in the side of his tank with one of her thumb claws.
He jetted away from her, as the escaping pressurized contents shot out. Whirling about, he left a trail of foam behind him. Checking on her other Bubble guy, she found that he wasn't moving, trapped under that piece of floor. She used a pillar to scrap off some of the foam, but got a face full of plaster as one of her shotgun armed pursuers missed.
'Shit!' Ducking, Jake turned and ran again for the way out, as the guards’ gunfire kept her dancing nimbly, decorative planters and light fixtures exploding all about her. She'd been hoping there would be just simple glass doors for her to crash though, but no, that would be too easy.
The ceiling of this damn place must be near sixty feet with a glassed in front. The lower ten feet had some sort of shutters that were now closed. Jake had no doubt that, after ripping though that blast door, she could make short work of that glass and metal, but it would take time that would let everyone catch up to her, wincing as another near miss showered her with debris.
That wasn't a good idea though, for while she seemed mostly bulletproof, Jake was in no hurry to find out just how bulletproof. If that wasn't enough, they might have something else like those foam guns, that could imprison her again.
Well the upper glassed in area above the doors wasn't shuttered, so it still looked like plan “A”, with a few changes. Charge through the glass, she decided, leaping high above the reinforced doors.
Mr. Hunter and his chosen huntsmen rushed to the sound of the guns. Covering the distance in the lope he had learned from Nubian archers an eon ago, Mr. Hunter surveyed the damage of the beast's rampage. Several of his men were hurt, but none mortally.
The once regal lobby, designed to impress visitors and guests, lay in ruins from the gunfire and the mounds of restraining foam. The stench and smoke from the battle lay heavy, as the ventilators were overloaded or jammed by the foam.
Assessing the damage in a glance, Mr. Hunter rushed past the glaring gash where the monster had torn up the floor. The ease with which it had broached the security lockout proved that he was correct to order lethal force to stop it. It mustn't be allowed to escape!
At the charge, his party reached the entrance, just as IT slammed into the armored glass panes. Seeing the dazed beast grab a support for balance, a grim line appeared on his face that could only be called a smile by another predator.
“Mr. Akna, if you please. Saladin, gun,” Hunter’s clipped voice ordered.
Nodding, the trim Inuit hunter, with an economy of motion, skipped forward, gathering energy and then, with precise timing, released it, sending his harpoon, which had felled the mightiest beasts of his home, out with its message of death.
Standing at his side, Saladin opened his burden, removing the long double barreled weapon from its silk and rosewood case and snapping the action open. Hunter reached for his customized weapon, even as his right hand slipped a pair of salt shaker sized shells into its breach. Long practice shut it, as he smoothly brought the custom, twenty pound rifle to his shoulder.
Jake screamed as something ripped into her wing! She slipped from her precarious perch and bit back another scream, as her weight dragged at her wound. Like a butterfly pinned by one wing, she fluttered helplessly, trying to find some way to free herself.
Pieces of exploding glass smashed into her face and chest, followed by a deafening boom! Twisting to find the cause, “Oh give me a flacking break!”
Jake recognized the man that fired at her, as the one with the hate filled eyes, but armed with what could only be a 600 Nitro Express Elephant gun. There were bigger rifles on the market, but she didn't think they would have the swirl of enchantments and magics this one had about it. “A Magical Elephant Gun!!??”
That last shot had almost hit her, dead center in the chest and she knew he had another shot remaining, with the doubled barreled weapon. Ignoring the pain, Jake pulled herself up as Mr. Angry Eyes fired again. Time slowed as 900 grains of lovingly crafted, enchanted metal thundered towards her.
Jake's mage sight could see the deadly enchantments that were cast upon it, and wondered how the first had missed. A cold shiver washed over her as she awkwardly grasped the spear that pinned her wing, and tossed it away.
Desperately moving aside, time suddenly sped back up and the window support frame shattered as the heavy bullet, meant to stop the world's deadliest charging beasts, crushed it. The armored window pane, weakened by not one, but two Titanic blows, shattered.
Jake slammed her shoulder against the last obstacle keeping her from freedom. Scent laden, fresh air struck her face and, with a smile she threw herself skyward, and spread her wings.
Without expression, Mr. Hunter passed his weapon back to Saladin, “Activate the air defenses and patch me through to NORAD.” He ordered. Crunching debris under his boots he turned and departed for the security control office.
Unsteadily, Jake flew, trying to gain altitude as fast as she could. Her wing still throbbed from that damn spear, but she was flying!
There were some guys shooting at her from the ground, but no one had come close yet. It did worry her that there were a lot of them, as well as Hummers with pintle weapon mounts, as streams of tracer rounds searched for her.
Looking back at the three-story building that had been her prison, it was like any other office building. To the south was a city or town, but the north seemed undeveloped, and was her best bet, for she needed some time to examine herself.
She didn't seem to be bleeding, but it sure as hell did hurt, and her make-shift poncho was in tatters. An urge to fly higher was nearly overwhelming, despite her common sense that said all she was doing was exposing herself to more gunfire.
Unseen below her, a metal shed on a nearby roof collapsed. Swiveling smoothly, the hidden gun locked on its contact. The Land Based Phalanx System (LBPS) was meant to be used for defense against mortars and other artillery, but its targeting system had no trouble tracking the evasive flight of the escapee.
Jane Smith hit the door to the control room at a full run. Startled, the technicians looked up, as she barked, “Do you have a target lock on it?”
Intimidated, the young sergeant replied, “Yes Ma'am, we have a solid Forward Looking Infra-Red (FLIR) lock.
With a cold smile, “Engage the target.” Jane Smith ordered. 'No one hurts my brother, and I owe that little freak some payback.'
With a gulp he replied, “Yes Ma'am, engaging target now,” as he lifted the red cover and keyed the switch.
The six barreled gatling gun fired a burst of its 20mm, high explosive, incendiary tracers at 5000 rounds a minute. Like swatting flies with a flamethrower, the contact was smashed by stream of metal fire.
The burst lasted just a few seconds but that was enough to send hundreds of deadly shells skyward. Looking like a science fiction laser beam, the stream of 20mm shells exploded, enveloping the contact in a bee hive of high velocity, exploding shell fragments and incendiaries, burning at thousands of degrees F.
Jake's world turned red with pain, and she fell to the ground, paralyzed by more pain than she had ever felt before in either of her lives. It was like a pit of fire that consumed her and, half insane with it, she staggered back to her feet.
It was as if her anger and pain had gathered, burning in her gut and now demanded release. She could feel it rising from within herself, and half choking and gagging, it escaped her in a fiery, vomited ball of primal fire.
The eye-searing ball of cascading light erupted from her and flashed to the gun that had shot her. It enveloped the LBPS with a brilliant explosion that shook the ground and was followed by other smaller ones, as its ammunition cooked off.
Shocked everyone snatched at their consoles as the building rocked! Staring at the ball of fire rising from where the LBPS used to be, the sergeant spoke in the silent room, “I think we made her mad.”
Just as stunned as everyone else, Jane Smith fought to overcome her shock. “Get the RPVs (Remote Pilot Vehicles) launched now!” Repeating herself to the motionless room, she screamed, “Launch the RPVs! Damn you!”
Shaken into action, the civilian and military technicians got to work, while wondering just what they had gotten themselves into working for Orion Labs, as the remaining cameras followed the rapidly ascending creature.
Jake flew, climbing higher and higher, as her very skin seemed to burn from her injuries. Large areas of her wings and body were a shiny, scintillating rainbow, as if made of molten silver. Overwhelmed by the agony, she lost herself to the instinct that drove her to climb higher.
There was nothing left of her roughly tailored poncho, and it was very hard to think past the burning sensations from the silvery spots where she had been hurt the worst. Cyber-punk authors William Gibson and Walter Jon Williams had written about sub-dermal armor, which was implanted either into, or underneath, the skin. That is what the silver places seemed to be, but if so, just what in the hell was she; dragon, human, cyborg or something else?
Behind and beneath her, two small RPV's flew where their cameras could keep her in sight. Looking like radio controlled airplanes used by hobbyists for decades, these were a different breed altogether, built to be hard to see and hear.
Equipped with an assortment of sensors and cameras, they were meant to be the eyes of the military and police. Mr. Hunter’s own hard eyes watched the monster's flight with its long webbed toes extended to provide a tail-like control surface.
Aircraft were on the way to intercept, but were still minutes away, but it was only moving about 90 mph, which was rather fast for a flying creature in level flight with muscles. Even at the rate it was climbing it would still be only about 20,000 feet if it continued. With the GPS (Global Positioning System) on the RPV, the beast couldn't outrun them and they would be able to guide the interceptors right to it.
That was really brothering Mr. Hunter, for the monster had done very few stupid things, so far, so what was its purpose? He admitted to himself that he had grossly underestimated the monster. It had never occurred to him that the beast's magical shields would have prevented his magicked bullets from seeking the monster, like the Americans boasted 'smart' missiles.
Despite knowing how dangerous the fiend was, the difficulty of this hunt thrilled him. For many long years it seemed that he was only half alive, except when his own life was endangered. He had spent decades in the Earth's remotest regions, risking all, until the advent of the 20th century, when many of mankind's most dangerous foes had surfaced; Vampires, demons, godlings and others, that either had been long asleep, or hiding amongst their prey.
The director’s predecessors had found him, and the challenge of the hunt was too much for him to resist. For the first time in centuries he faced foes worthy of his salt, and he felt truly alive. Years had passed, but he had never forgotten the greatest monster of them all. Hidden within the bowels of the earth itself, like the poisonous worm within an apple, he knew she was bidding her time to strike at the sons of men again.
He watched the colored lights indicating the Air Forces interceptors inching toward his prey. Clenching his fists, a petty part of him wanted to be in on the kill, but he knew too well that all that mattered was killing the beast, for he was well aware of just how much devastation one of ITS brood could harvest.
The interceptors carried the latest Air to Air Missiles (AAM), and getting NORAD to respond so promptly had cost Mr. Hunter more favors than he wanted to count. It was his responsibility to prevent the disaster the monster would unleash. He had failed before out of pride, but not this time.
“Sir we're having a problem,” the sergeant at the RPV controls reported.
Hunter, fighting the temptation to wince, closed his eyes, “Tell me.”
“There is some sort of transmission interference. It started about a minute ago but it is getting worse” the sergeant reported.
“Could the contact be jamming your transmission?” Mr. Hunter asked.
The sergeant paused trying to wrap his mind around the idea, that the winged girl he'd been following with his RPVs was carrying jamming equipment. “No sir. Jamming is usually a very strong signal. This is more like background interference, but stronger.”
Hunter snapped out, “Any changes to the target's course and speed, and how soon till intercept?”
“Target speed and course remains constant. Approximately five minutes till extreme range for weapons free,” the sergeant relayed.
Making up his mind, Mr. Hunter ordered, “Pull the RPV with the most fuel remaining back to just within visual range, but maintain close contact with the other.”
Jake, driven by the urge to fly ever higher, was struggling with the unfamiliar sensations of muscles she had never used before, as well as the renewed feelings from her new body. The blinding pain had begun to fade, but she was in near overload from all that had happened to her.
The play of skin and exertion, turned extraordinarily sensitive from her injuries and ordeal were fatiguing. The memories of Physical Training (PT) in the service returned, of dragging himself back after a long run, more on momentum than anything else.
She didn't know why she was driven to seek the heavens, but knew somehow that she had almost made it to her goal. It was if she could just about touch something that couldn't be touched, like the wind. A whisper of touch that was smooth as the finest silk, but powerful as a rushing river in flood.
Then suddenly, like dunking her head in icy water, she grasped the untouchable. Everything turned white and she was being burned and frozen alive, impossibly at the same time. Unable to breathe, she held out for as long as she could, before releasing the, oh-so-cold, icy phantom.
Exhausted, it slipped from her tenuous grasp and suddenly, she was back in the real world. It was all she could do to hold her wings out to glide. Even with her fatigue dulled senses, she saw mountains where just a breath before there had been none! Too weary to wonder how she had ended up wherever here was, Jake had to rest. Letting her wings carry her in a glide, she gently made for a river she saw below her. Tired, and hurt, she let the winds bear her to the wilderness and river below.
The room went silent as, in a flash of light, the nearer RPV signal died and began to flutter to the ground, watched by its sister.
Mr. Hunter's presence and displeasure was a near psychical thing as he snapped, “What happened?”
Swallowing the past the lump in his throat, the sergeant reported, “She’s gone! Just before we lost the RPV, I got a burst of interference, somewhat like from sunspots, and then she just vanished.
Turning his basilisk gaze upon the young man, Mr. Hunter asked “Could the monster have gone invisible?”
Thinking, 'How in the hell would I know? I'm a technician, not a magician,' a thought came to him. “I don't think so Sir.” rewinding the footage from the remaining RPV he cued up what he was looking at, as Mr. Hunter hovered over his shoulder.
“See here Sir, as RPV One lost its data-link. Look at how it pitches up here and began to flutter. That's a sign of turbulence. I don't know how, but I'm guessing she somehow accelerated very fast. Recovering the downed RPV should give some idea as to what caused it to fail.”
“Signal the interceptors to return to base, and use the remaining RPV to ensure the recovery of the damaged one. Run a copy of your tapes and pass them to the researchers. Maybe they can tell us what just happened,” Mr. Hunter ordered. “I'll be in my office” and he turned and left.
The young sergeant released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, along the rest of the room. He began to gather his share of the recordings of what just happened, but the entire thing made him uneasy.
His own little brother was a mutant, and to see one who was being treated like a hardened criminal made him ill. He'd even done a search to see if she was wanted for anything, but no one matching her description was in the data-base. Not certain of what he could do, if anything, he did keep a copy of the security footage.
Jake stumbled to a landing on the sandy bank of the river. She fell to her knees, weak with exhaustion. From what she could see from the air, this was a very remote area, but she did see a road a couple of miles away, near what she thought might be a fire tower.
Crawling to the edge of the bank, even the ice cold water didn't keep her from splashing it into her face. Taking a chance on the water, Jake cupped her hands and drank deeply. That swill from that damn pit hadn't made her ill, so she seemed to have a healthy constitution.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, but the water revitalized her. Feeling a little more human, Jake took in her surroundings. It seemed to be early spring, from the few new growth greens she saw. The question now was, where? This could be anywhere from Alaska, to China. She took in a deep breath, and reveled in the freedom that was so bone deep, it was as if her very pores were breathing in with her. Letting it out gave her a sense of a great burden being removed.
The problem now, however was, she was hungry, and from what she could see, it was too early for berries. Her childhood, spent in the rural south, had taught her much about living off the land, but this was a different kind of forest from the ones of her youth.
Her best bet seemed to be checking out that fire tower. She could still hunt for berries and, if worse came to worse, she was well equipped to hunt the old fashioned way, with tooth and claw. It would be nice to avoid eating raw meat though.
Jake was pretty sure that, somewhere in her vast inaccessible memory, there was a simple fire starting spell, but so far all the only fire she'd made was when she had spit up that flaming hairball, whatever-it-was, that had blown that phalanx gun to hell. That was ‘Nice for fireworks but not so much for cooking.’
Besides, she'd lost what little clothing she had in her escape and her bare nipples were making themselves uncomfortably known in the cool air. Tired, hungry, and naked as the day she was hatched, she began walking. She was free, and for now that was more than enough.
Together Dimitri and Octavia, with his arm around her shoulders, slowly walked out through the devastated lobby. Always the scientist, he took in every detail of the battle’s ruins. The two of them had deliberately taken the same route the Dragon-girl had taken during her escape. They had taken note of the shattered cameras, sundered doors, and the wall and blast door that had, very literally, been clawed though.
Hunter’s security people had obviously put up a fight, as the strong smell of gunfire still lingering in the air attested to, but the girl had not been stopped. The entranceway’s armored glass panels lay upon the ground where she had broken free, and taken flight for the first time.
A part of him really wished he could have been there to see her fly free, he thought, as he looked up at the brightening morning sky. Dimitri sighed to himself. For 15 years he had been chasing the mystery of Angelo Echidna’s eruption. Now it seemed the answer had grown wings and flown away.
Looking down at the woman at his side, he realized that as consuming as his quest had been, perhaps there were answers to other questions yet to be asked, that were more important. Her eyes met his and he knew that this was just like 15 years before, when his life had forever changed. His desire to know then had altered the path of his fate. Dimitri Mitsopoulos recognized that, once again his destiny had hung a left turn.
Taking his arm from her shoulder, he silently offered her his hand. With a smile she took it, as they both turned their wondering eyes skyward, as the sun rose on new day.
Warning!!!! This story depicts someone having a hard time dealing with the lost of an loved one. If this would upset you please do not continue! I believe it ends on a positive note, but you were warned!
Warning!!! At the urging of early readers, this story also has a Tissue Alert attached. We are not responsible for however many boxes you may use.~ Grover
Forlornly, George stared out his window. The nasty frozen stuff was really coming down. Big, heavy, wet, white clumps of snow tumbled downward until they disintegrated smashing into the ground.
Looking over his suburban neighborhood, he already could see it beginning to stick and cover all the trappings of ‘Keeping-up-with-the-Jones’ in a sanitizing blanket of white. The campers, boats, fancy decks and all the cluttered examples of conspicuous consumption out of sight at least for a little while.
However there was happiness out there too that even his melancholy mood couldn’t ignore. It seemed every kid in the area was outside playing in the wintery weather. A few snowball fights were underway as the early accumulations on cars were put to use as well as some trying to build snowmen that had more dead grass and leaves in them than snow.
Despite himself, he smiled. Most had never even seen this much of the white stuff except on TV. They could be forgiven for their youthful enthusiasm. For that matter it was so rare for them to get any frozen stuff that adults were joining in the festivities.
George sighed, his smile fading. It was a holiday scene as perfect as any Christmas card. If it was rare to get snow down here in this part of the South, it was unheard of to see a White Christmas.
But that was exactly what it was going to be by all accounts. Today was Christmas Eve and the big day was tomorrow. His hands gripped the window sill so hard his knuckles turned as white as the flakes covering the ground outside. Ellen would’ve loved this.
Sorrow overwhelmed him as its weight bowed his head. It was all he could do not to completely breakdown. For the first Christmas in many years he was alone. The pain of being without the one who had always been there for him was too much to bear.
“Oh God this hurts,” a silent prayer screamed in his chest.
My eyes opened. Something woke me from my long, long sleep. I was still in the same place where my slumber had begun, in a box. That sounds rather strange doesn’t it?
About me were green plastic army men, Hot Wheels cars, and other toys you expect to see in a box of boy’s toys. That’s except for me. Not to say I’m not a toy too, just not one you expect to see in most boys’ possession.
I’m a doll. Specifically, I’m Talking Stacey Model 1125 with Copper Penny red hair. In simple terms, you could call me a Barbie doll. The only real difference I have a different head and talk with an English accent.
Well, I’m not just a doll. That is something I’ve thought a lot about after all. Most toys simply aren’t animate and I am. I’m fairly certain I’m some kind of spirit that has made this plastic shell my body. More than that, I can’t say. My first memories begin with being pulled from the colorful packing carton and being untied from the wire twists that had held me in place.
That’s when I first saw her. A couple of things were clear from that very first sight. I somehow knew that I had to look after her. Call it love if you must but her well-being was utmost in my thoughts. It was also clear that she wasn’t like most other girls.
The short hair and masculine cut clothing marked her outwardly as something else, but I felt, knew, differently. Whatever I was, I could see with eyes other that the ones painted on my plastic face. Her feminine heart and soul were easily visible to me.
I could also tell all was not well from her fugitive and guilty glances at her room’s door as she gently touched my hair.
“Hi Stacey,” She whispered. “I’m Gwenn.”
Pulling the cord at the back of my neck, an English accented woman’s voice crackled, “Hi, I’m Stacey!”
From outside the room a woman demanded, “George! What are you doing with the radio on? We have things to do! Where is that present you were supposed to buy for your school Christmas gift exchange? I don’t know what has gotten into people these days. In my time, boys brought presents for the boys and the girls for the girls. Ain’t no good going come of mixing things up! Mark my words. You probably brought some poor thing a baseball glove!”
“George! Where are you?”
Cringing, Gwenn who was also called George, stuffed me and the box I’d come in under the covers of her bed.
“I’m coming Mom!” She cried.
The sound of running feet and a closing door told me I was alone. Awkwardly I began to move, but fortunately as I was to learn Talking Stacey was one of the first Barbie’s to have individually molded fingers so I had full use of my hands. Lifting an edge of the covers, I examined the carton I’d arrived in. A British flag and Red coated Foot Guard with his tall bearskin cap with a picture of young woman dancing pass him, me.
My first time alone with my thoughts didn’t last long before Gwenn returned looking sad and lost. To my dismay, I learned this was her normal state, and I resolved to change it.
That is when I also learned something else. Although I had the power of movement and could make this plastic body on mine move as if alive, when humans were present I had an almost instinctive prohibition against letting them know it. So as Gwenn picked me up, I was as immobile as any other doll.
“Stacey, when I saw you, I knew you were the one. I’m the only red head in my class. Besides my Dad, I don’t know any other red heads at all. He says that’s because we’re family. Are you family too Stacey?”
Then a big smile shone across her freckled face. “I know! You can be my big sister. How about that?”
Just being born in a matter of speaking I was being deluged with new things as I realized something else. When I answered her, somehow she heard me, but it was not like normal communications. Where normal pretend play would have Gwenn imagining all the voices for her make-believe friends, I had my own say but she took it as if it came from her.
Yes, I quickly picked up on the very real power I had over this seemingly giant who held me in her hand. I could very easily influence her thoughts.
However this was love at first sight. I couldn’t conceive of hurting her. “Yes, I’ll be your big sister.”
That was the start of that proverbial beautiful friendship. We played together at every available opportunity although Gwenn was very careful to hide it all from her parents. As an only child, that wasn’t that hard because most evenings her mother and father would stare at their black and white TV set for hours making that prime playtime for us.
I helped my friend as I could over the issues of bullies and other trial and tribulations of growing up. Nothing lasts forever and as Gwenn grew older, we played less and less although I was still a frequent confidant during times she couldn’t keep her tears away any longer.
If only it had been in my power to take her suffering away, but I could not. No matter what we did, it seemed that the world and her own body had other thoughts on who she should be. All I could do was to consol and ease her tortured soul away from considering darker paths. I did the best I could to tell her death was not an escape. It would take a bright beautiful person from the world even if they were all too blind and deaf to know it.
Finally the day came when I was taken from Gwenn’s hidden stash along with all my accessories we’d accumulated during the years. Tomorrow she was leaving home for the last time. High School was behind her and her family had no money to send her to college.
We had talked about this many times. The stories about girls like her and what the Doctors could do to help. That took even more money than even going back to school. Not that she or I had a clue where to go for more information or help.
Gwenn did know her parents wouldn’t understand. A few careful questions and comments had gotten her a burning scathing reply. I felt bad about that having been the one to suggest that, but we had to know. I wasn’t sure how much she saw me as a belonging or as an individual in my own right. I suspected it was something she carefully didn’t think about. The poor thing had enough doubts about her sanity given her situation.
That last time she was tearful as she hid me in the bottom of this box of toys. All about were other boxes filled with her childhood for tomorrow she was joining the Army.
“Stacey,” She told me. “Maybe they can show me what this being a man thing is all about. If I wanted to be safe I guess I should throw you away where no one could connect you with me, but I can’t. From the very first moment I saw you I knew you would be my friend and big sister.”
Gwenn sniffed, “You would think I’d outgrown all of this, but I guess not. This is kinda of silly saying goodbye to a toy but I suppose I’m just a silly kind of person.”
She sighed, her pain and doubts exposed and raw. “I’m not ready for this, but what choice do I have?”
I don’t know if I had a heart or not but it certainly hurt like I did. “Be strong. I know you can do whatever you put your heart and mind to. Goodbye Gwenn.”
Crying she whispered, “Goodbye Stacey.”
The last I remember is the box lid closing and the terrible darkness. Now something had wakened me.
It was Gwenn. I didn’t know how or why but I knew she needed me. Maybe I was only a doll but my imagination ran wild. Was there a war? Had she gotten injured in combat?
I had to get out this box, now. There was no time to waste. Digging my though the other toys I reached the lid. Pushing I felt it give. Working my way to where I felt that it’d given the most, the seam of the box spilt, the glue holding it together old and dried out.
I fell out as a waterfall of other of mementos of Gwenn’s childhood tumbled after me. Green troops and cars clattered as they hit the floor. Rolling aside, most of it missed me.
Dust lay thick on the floor and stacks of boxes towered high above me. Looking up I saw the tall mountain of cardboard that’d been my tomb leaning haphazardly.
Leaving small footprints behind me, I wondered just how long I’d been sleeping. I was in the attic which I recognized from the times Gwenn had brought me up here to play secretly. However it was different now, with much more stuff packed in here.
I needed more information before I could make any sort of plan. Making my way to the attic window, I used a wad of cobweb to clean a hole.
My mouth dropped open. It was snowing!
That was unusual enough but the whole neighborhood was different now. Where before Gwenn’s home had been set back off the main road, now there were thickly built mass of nearly identical homes. Nothing at all looked the same. Despair well in inside me. How was I going to find her when I felt it was so urgent to find her?
George looked down at the TV dinner growing cold in front of him. The flickering light of the evening news didn’t make it look anymore appetizing, but he knew he had to eat something.
Ellen would’ve been all over him sitting here in the dark in front of the TV and picking at the spongy pseudo-meat and gravy. However, if she’d still been alive the house would be awash in the smell of cooking. Cookies and other food for tomorrow’s Christmas feast that she would be getting an early start on.
He bowed his head dropping his fork onto his plate. Everywhere he turned, everywhere he looked; he kept seeing and thinking of his beloved wife. She’d been his life.
George had met her after deciding to go back to school courtesy of Uncle Sam. His time in the service had been enough to cover the costs of going to the local college.
Ellen was right out of high school and away from home for the first time but despite the difference in age and experience it’d been love at first sight. He’d been smitten by her ready smile and her caring nature.
It’d always amazed him that she never even considered dating anyone else but him. George knew he wasn’t the most masculine person in the world, but that never stopped her. Even when he bared his very soul to heart, she just smiled like always and replied that’s why she loved him.
Stunned, he could only nod when she asked him to marry her. If there were any regrets at all during their 25 years together it would only because they were unable to have children. They talked of adopting but something always came up that interfered.
Perhaps it was for the best all considering. Since the cancer that had taken her from him, George knew he’d been dysfunctional. Missing her from his life made the simplest things huge unmanageable tasks. It was just as well no one was depending on him, because he feared he would just let them down.
Holding his head in both hands, he moaned softly. It hurt so much he didn’t know how to deal with it. Despite himself, his eyes and thoughts cut to his desk and the locked case he knew that he knew was within.
Taking a shuttling breath, George shook his head trying to get rid of the thought. Finally he stood taking the cold cardboard and plastic like food to the kitchen where he unceremoniously dumped it.
Maybe tomorrow he would go over to his parents place. It was Christmas after all. It wasn’t their fault that they never could understand him, but Ellen being who she was had somehow melded a few of the broken fences between them.
George gripped the sink with all of his strength struggling against his loss and pain. Hopelessly, he looked out the window at the now heavy white carpet covering the ground. The streetlamps’ wane light seem to flicker as the snow continued to fall.
Finally exhausted, he slid to the cold floor crying lost in his grief.
I was clicking my way across the floor after dressing. I’d found one of my old outfits that had spilled out after me. The Barbie Red, White n’Warm ensemble had all the winter accessories a girl needed. However, while I’m a doll and don’t get cold per say, I was going on a journey that I had no idea where I might end up, and more to the point when I get damaged there isn’t any healing from it. This particular set covered me up pretty good giving about as much protection as I could expect.
In addition I do have to admit to a certain amount of vanity. I have no idea of how long it’d been, but I did want to look my best for Gwenn. While I may not have a living body with actual female functions, I’d long ago accepted I was feminine. Maybe that was why she and I had the friendship we shared.
However it was time to begin my journey. Being only 11 and ½ inches tall made it tough to open doors and deal with a ‘Land of the Giants’ world. Hey, that ½ inch is important when you’re less than a foot tall!
Even after all these years I haven’t a clue on how I could make the even un-jointed parts of me move. There had to be some kind of laws of physics I was breaking. I could move and bend my plastic carcass in any way a real human body could move and even change my facial expression from that silly vapid smile. Or more useful, suck it in so I could squeeze out underneath the attic door. Then it was the climb down the stairs that each step was nearly as tall as I am, oh joy.
Then another squeeze under the hallway door and finally I was in the house proper. Keeping to the side I made my way carefully down the hall while looking at all the things that had changed since my long slumber. The walls were painted another color and there were the usual pictures, but more of them.
I already knew that considerable time had passed since I’d last seen daylight, but this gallery made it even more real. There were pictures of Gwenn’s parents older and grayer, but also of my friend too. Some were of her in a somber Army dress uniform while others had other soldiers like her grinning and standing together.
However it was the last ones that had my plastic mouth dropping open in surprise. My Gwenn had her arms about a trim smiling girl. I was happy that she had found a companion, but the wedding pictures still astonished me.
I honestly didn’t know what I was feeling. Jealously over the woman she had found to share her life or happiness about the joy I saw in those pictures.
However something bothered me. They seemed so happy, so what had happened that was so powerful that it woke me? Cautious, I creped further along looking for answers.
George held the silky dress in his hands trying to make himself reach for the old feelings that always comforted him. For nearly his whole life, he’d been aware of his strong feminine side. It’d always set him aside as different from everyone else.
Other men would check out women, but for George he was looking just as much at their clothes and their look. Did that work for them and other unspoken critique. By the grace of a miracle he’d found Ellen who not only accepted his differences but actually encouraged him. Grinning she said that she’d made out like a bandit in their relationship. Not only did she get a husband but a girlfriend and fashion consultant too. What more could a girl ask for?
Crossdressing had always somehow eased this insidious anxiety that seemed to accumulate until he had no choice but to try and appease it. Then shame and embarrassment followed on its heels making he make powerless vows never to do it again. Ellen changed that equation.
She’d taken away the negatives leaving only the positives. After all it was only clothes, she’d told him. Additional, he admitted she was way better at this whole feminine thing than his furtive efforts.
George found that Gwenn, his feminine alter ego, wasn’t bad looking at all, given Ellen’s loving touch. She’d even suggested the two of them going out in public. Charlotte was more than big enough to get lost in a crowd so that no one would ever know.
That, however, was a step that was a little further than he was comfortable with going. It was enough to let Gwenn out in the privacy of his and Ellen’s home. Besides, as he told his wife, as long as he had her, he didn’t need anything else. Her bright smile told George that he’d said exactly the right thing.
George had always known that he was somehow different but hadn’t any way of defining exactly what. He could still remember when that had all changed. His 4th grade teacher Miss Kemp decided to shake things up some. More than a little bit of a hippy she gave her class an unusual assignment. Buy a gift for the other sex instead of the usual arrangement in the hopes that the boys and girls of her class would learn something about each other.
His parents had immediately forecasted a disaster and there had been a few hmmm unsuitable gifts. But his gift hadn’t been one of them. Mom had pushed him into the girl’s toys, telling to pick one.
George could still remember that magic moment where everything had suddenly snapped into sharp focus. It was as if a spot light was right there. Bright pinks in every shade imaginable as well as colorful pastel boxes and packages filled the space before him. Dolls, bears, and much more beckoned as if calling his name.
Looking back on it, George knew that that many would’ve considered his family poor. His trips back then to the toy department were few and far between. Add in his being an only child, and his isolation which meant he’d rarely had any playmates, that really had been the first time he’d been exposed to girl stuff.
Everything made sense as his 4th grader self experienced that Satori like enlightenment. Or perhaps, he mused it was more similar to Kensho which literally translates out to “seeing one’s true nature.”
Of course being only 11, he didn’t know those terms. Only that in that flash of understanding that he knew what set him apart from everyone else. The ways that he thought and acted were like that of girls and not the boy he appeared. More, George suddenly knew these marvelous toys were the ones he’d wanted, always wanted, but hadn’t known to ask for them.
However in that same terrible bolt of understanding, he also instinctively knew this would not be accepted. In that magical moment looking down that wonderful forbidden aisle he’d found the answer to all of his torments, but at the same instant the knowledge that his salvation from his was forever denied him.
That one defining instant of his life had lead him to a lifetime of tying to understand and live with his gender contrary nature. The journey had caused him to do some amazingly stupid things, but despite that he’d somehow survived them. It was Ellen with her loving acceptance that had saved his life and sanity.
And now she was gone.
George took a halting breath, his fists knotted up in the fine fabric. Some part of him knew he was sliding in the abyss again as he had before Ellen had come into his life. But even knowing that, he still couldn’t keep it from happening.
He was exhausted from his sorrow, but the tears still came. It just hurt so much!
Hearing voices I peered around the corner. Gwenn’s parents, older and grayer but they were still recognizable.
“Do you think he’ll come over tomorrow?” She asked the old man.
His eyes glued to a color TV set answered, “Don’t know. He might. Then again he might not. It is snowing. I imagine it‘ll still be on the ground come morning.” The man said in a matter of fact way.
Gwenn’s mother sighed, “I’m worried about him.”
His father replied a little annoyed with having whatever he was watching interrupted, “He’s a man. He’ll get over it.”
Staring at her husband she said forcefully, “You know how close him and Ellen always were. Besides, he’s never been like everyone else. Maybe we should go over there tonight?”
The old man looked over at her like she was out of her mind. “Go out? On a night like tonight?” He scoffed shaking his balding head.
“Jim!” She said reprovingly. “It’s only a few blocks away.”
The old man stubbornly faced the TV. “Then he can come over here. I’m not stepping one foot out of this house tonight. All we have to do slip and break a hip then where would we be?”
Returning his stubborn look Gwenn’s mother said, “Then maybe I should invite George over to stay the night in his old room. You however can sleep in the spare room, by yourself.”
Cutting his wife a crossways glance he said back, “Good! Maybe I’ll be able to get a good nights sleep away from all of this nagging!”
“Fine!” She replied sharply. “Because sleep is all you’re going to get mister!”
“And how it is that any different from the last 20 years?” He harrumphed back.
I pulled back behind the corner. Gwenn wasn’t far away and close to here. However, she might even be coming to me!
Judging the timing, I dashed across the doorway so I could bet closer to Gwenn’s Mom who was picking up an odd shaped rectangular box that I guessed had to be the phone. Wow had they ever changed.
Running inside I dared to get even closer. However it soon became apparent that my friend wasn’t going to be here tonight.
“I know dear that it’s snowing and not the best weather for going out, but it’s not that far. We both would love to have you over for Christmas Eve night.” Gwenn’s Mom spoke into the phone even though it had no cord.
“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble for you to stay the night.” She sighed, “Well at least promise me you’ll be by tomorrow. Good night George and Merry Christmas.”
His father grunted not brothering to turn around. “I told you he wouldn’t come.”
The old woman stood silent for a moment before snapping, “Shut up old man,” but he had already gone back to ignoring her.
Looking at her from my hiding place I could see her worry. It was one I shared. Gwenn was in trouble this night and I needed to be there. If she wasn’t going to come to me, I had to go to her.
George hung his head low as he put down the phone. He knew he should go over to his parents place. It snowing was simply an excuse. He could walk over there in just a few minutes because they were so close.
The real reason was he couldn’t work up the energy to do anything. When Ellen left, his joy in life went with her. These last few months he’d drifted along on momentum, but now that was all gone now. All the memories of the happy times they’d had together made every moment without her a torment.
Once more his thoughts turned to that box locked in his desk. George knew that it held no help or peace. Perhaps it was just the off button. Knowing that it wasn’t the answer he needed, the idea of making his pain stop was seductive.
With an act of will he wretched his thoughts away from that grim tropic. There was things to do to prepare for tomorrow. Because of the snow, they could lose power and it would be wise to get cleaned up tonight. Each step an effort, George struggled upstairs.
Getting outside had been a real challenge but I‘d made it. Looking out from the poach, it was a daunting sight. The early evening appeared even darker with low heavy clouds that were nearly invisible in the falling snow. The wet stuff not only covered the ground but several inches had already accumulated.
Judging it was about waist deep on me that made it say 5 and half inches give or take. And as a rough guess I had a half mile or better to travel in this stuff.
Setting my plastic face with determination, I was going to make it tonight. Gwenn needed me and it would take more than some unseasonable weather to stop me.
Fortunately I’d found the address from those very same photographs in the hallway. One had the Gwenn and her lovely bride posing before a newly built house that helpfully showed the address on the mailbox. Forty Curtiss Drive.
Steeling myself I took the first step. I didn’t weight much but this snow had very little of a crust and I constantly fought for each inch. After what felt like hours I looked back and found I’d hadn’t even made it as far as the curb. Sighing I turned and pushed myself forward another few inches. At least I didn’t have flesh and blood that got cold and tired since I was only a doll. However it was going to a long hard journey. Ignoring the spiraling flakes that were nearly as big as my head I pushed onward.
I don’t have any idea of how much time had passed. Behind me the house that Gwenn grew up in was completely lost in the all encompassing white. The only sounds were a hiss as yet even more snow fell. I couldn’t even see the road any more. I had only a vague idea where it was by judging the distance between the snow covered houses.
Deep in my empty plastic bowels, I began to fear that I’d gotten lost. Somehow I kept on going wondering how I was going to find Gwenn’s home after the snow covered everything up.
At first I thought it was some kind of illusion but there in that house was a cluster of bright sparks. What could that possibly be I wondered?
Then a beam of light shined out of the gloom. “Over here!” a voice called to me. It came from that house with all the sparks!
I didn’t freeze in place as I usually did around humans! Disregarding the strangeness, I lunged in that direction. I needed help and they were offering.
Shielding my eyes from the light, a cord dropped down. Grasping it I held on tight as I was pulled up. The wind and snow buffered and banged me into the side of the house. Finally the ice glazed ledge came into sight and with a final yank I was inside.
I heard the window close as I tumbled to a stop. My white faux fur hat went flying but rolled to a stop at the feet of this huge cowboy doll. To my absolute amazement he bent over pickup up my hat. “You dropped something Ma’am?”
Stunned, I jumped when a chorus of wolf whistles sounded from behind me. Twisting, there was a veritable platoon of half-sized army men of about 4 inches tall. And each and every one of them was leering at yours truly.
Over my shoulder the Howdy Doody wannabe guffawed, “Now cut it out guys. You‘ll think you‘ve never seen a girl before.”
One of them with a blond short buzz that didn’t seem the least repentant cut shot back, “Not where we could actually do anything. Korey’s sister, Annie, isn‘t old enough to have toys that look like real dames yet.”
The cowboy laughed, “Duke, she’s a guest! Miss?” he asked me.
“Stacy,” I replied in my English accent. Shocked, I could see even more toys moving behind them. They were animate like me! A veritable hoard of toys! I swear I even saw a Mr. Potato Head and a dinosaur coming in for a closer look.
The platoon of half-sized soldiers riotously broke out in lecherous grins again, “Hey she’s a limey broad!”
The cowboy waved his hands trying to calm them. “Hey Guys! Be polite!”
I stood up and smoothed down my fur trimmed coat. With as much aplomb as I could muster, I took my hat from Tex and walked over to the window. Using my reflection, I put my fur back on and adjusted my appearance.
That’s when I noticed that the riot had grown quiet. Turning back, the entire group, including the Cowboy, was staring at me with the goofiest expressions on their painted faces.
As lady like as I could I stated as much as asked, “You’re all animate. How is that possible?”
The big cowboy recovered first. “Yep. We generally are when there isn’t any people about. We’re toys,” He said puzzled.
Muttering from the peanut gallery confirmed that opinion.
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head in disagreement. “No. You do know that you, me, them are the exception and not the rule don’t you? All toys aren’t animate like us.”
Startled he stared, “They’re not?”
More muttering from our audience told me, all these yokels thought that all toys were like themselves.
“No,” I said curtly. “My own experience suggests we’re spirits sent to help and guide children with extraordinary needs or destinies.”
He laughed disagreeing, “Nah! It all in the movie and I was the star!”
The small soldier disagreed, “No you’re not. It might have looked like you, but you were not in ‘Toy Story.’ That was Tom Hanks. Didn‘t you see the credits.”
The Cowboy waved him down. “Sheriff Woody was the star, and I’m Sheriff Woody, so I was in the movie.”
I folded my arms. “I take it that this motion picture portrayed all toys as being alive?”
Everyone nodded.
“And like us, when humans are about we have strong prohibitions against revealing our true natures?” I continued.
Again they all nodded.
“So how did they film this cinema of yours if all the toys in it were like us and frozen in front of the camera?” I finished.
The Soldier nudged the Cowboy. “She’s got you there, Sheriff.
Clearing my throat I repeated, “We’re spirits possessing these manufactured bodies so we can help and aid the children we befriend.”
I could see him struggling with the idea, and trying to regain control of this situation. “Nice to meet you Stacy. Okay I can see we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over. I’m Sheriff Woody.”
The pint sized lecher cut in. “I’m Duke. We’re G. I. Joes, Real American Heroes,” Duke boasted introducing the rest with a wave of his hand.”
Folding my arms, I looked him up and down. Gwenn had a G. I. Joe but he’d looked nothing like these half-sized figures. Of course unlike these, that one had been nothing but un-living plastic.
Recalling a line from one of my friend’s favorite movies, I misquoted, “Aren’t you a little short for a G. I. Joe?”
Woody alarmed rushed in to stop further argument. “Stacy, you’ve obviously been out of circulation a while. What were you doing out in a night like tonight? If it wasn’t Christmas Eve and us keeping an eye out for the big guy we wouldn’t have seen you.”
As much as I would love to put those little chauvinists in their place, the Cowboy had a point. “Yes, you’re correct. I have recently awakened from a very long sleep. However, it is imperative that I reach 40 Curtiss Drive tonight.”
Then it hit me what else he’d said. Big guy? “Excuse me?” I asked. “Are you referring to Santa Claus? Is that why you’re here in the dinning room rather than with your charge?” I could easily see the Christmas tree’s blinking lights from here.
Woody gave another amazed look. “But of course it is! It’s Christmas Eve! We all want to see Santa when he gets here.”
“Yeah, and see what new competition you’re got to face from Korey’s new toys.” Duke added sarcastically.
“You believe in Santa?” I asked disbelievingly.
They all looked back at me as Woody countered, “You don’t?”
I’d always thought that Gwenn’s parent had played Santa Claus for her. However I couldn’t say for certain because I’d always spent Christmas Eve with my friend. Every year she wished for a miracle or just some sign that her fondest desire was heard. Every year it’d been the same disappointment as she received more sports equipment and boy clothes.
Diplomatically, I replied, “Let’s say I haven’t seen proof and leave it at that. That doesn‘t change the urgency of my reaching my destination tonight.”
Woody gave me a measuring gaze. “It’s not about proof. It’s about what you feel and believe in your heart,” He said touching his wooden chest.
I sighed. The feeling that Gwenn needed me and needed me now hadn’t lessened. If anything it had become more pressing. “Be that as it may, will you please help me? It is of the utmost importance.” I pleaded.
He scratched his head. “Why do you need to get there tonight?”
Beginning to feel a little put out at this wooden cowboy I replied, “I woke only a few hours ago knowing that my friend needs me.”
Woody’s painted eyes widened. “What? You only just woke up?” Then he figured it out. “You were in storage? Boxed? He whispered in shock.
Muttered, “Boxed!” spread across the room with our spectators showing the same shock and some even horror.
I simply gave them a matter of fact stare, “Yes boxed. That doesn’t change the simple fact, that my friend needs me.”
Softy he asked, “Even after being ignored and forgotten for all these years?”
Looking him in the eye, I said one word. “Absolutely.”
George clicked the remote as yet another Christmas program flickered across the TV screen. After his bath and shave he did feel better, but nothing could rid him of that numbness of his heart. Half-heartedly he turned on the TV while in bed hoping for the all too brief break from his pain in sleep.
Sleep that refused to come to him on this Christmas Eve night. He paused in his channel surfing watching Ralphie get kicked down the slide by Santa yet again.
He sighed. Christmas had never been one of his favorite times of the year. Each holiday it was so full of hope but it always ended in disappointment. Perhaps except for that pivotal year when he’d finally figured everything out.
Strange that he was thinking about that again. Of standing there in aisle surrounded by all those toys for girls realizing that all this time what he’d been missing.
That’d been one Christmas that he’d gotten what he wanted even if he did have to buy it himself. George was supposed to be buying a gift for a girl classmate, but instead had brought two. One doll for her, but the other had been for himself. It’d taken some fancy footwork on his part and most of his allowance, but he’d gotten away with it.
George had purchased a Barbie Doll, and no one was the wiser. Well it was really a Stacy Doll, but the only difference was she talked with an English accent. That was also the same time he’d named himself. Gwenn was her name for the time when she could at least briefly put away all the pretending and just be herself.
Despite the longing lost of Ellen the memory made him smile. Stacy had stayed a secret, and his parents had never discovered that their son played with dolls. Of course, as the years passed, they instead thought he was gay, but what was the use of trying to tell them differently.
He used sometimes think of himself as a changeling from legends about elves and the fey who exchanged their children in exchange for a human baby. What other explanation was there for how different he and his parents were. George had even believed that he must’ve been adopted, but no, not even that.
For most of his childhood, that doll was his only confidant up to the time where he left to join the Army. George stopped surfing on finding Toy Story. He and Ellen loved this movie. It took him back to his day as Gwenn playing with Stacy and of how it seemed they could actually converse.
He watched a few minutes but the emptiness of not having Ellen with him drove him to turn it off. George sat there for a few minutes before admitting that he would not be able to sleep like this.
Making his way back down stairs he stopped in front of the liquor cabinet. He’d never been much of a drinker but kept some on hand for social occasions. Those had become nonexistent after Ellen had come down ill.
George had always counted himself lucky that he’d been able to stay away from most addictions, but he had to have something to make himself forget. With a trembling hand, he opened the bottle.
Finally the Cowboy said, “Come with me. We’re going over there.” He explained gesturing at the window at the far corner of the house.
Climbing down and then back to the other window sill we were joined by the crowd waiting for Santa to make an appearance. I was still amazed by just how many of these toys were animated. Just who were those two youngsters to have so many spirits looking over them? However I had another problem.
Woody pointed out the icicle lined frosted pane. “There,” He said. “Way over at the far end. Do you see it? That’s 40 Curtiss Drive.”
I indeed did see. 10 houses away and only the street lamb just barely visible in the white haze of falling snow. My heart fell at the enormous distance I still had to cover.
Meanwhile, Duke and his squad of junior sized GI Joes had formed a pyramid ladder so he could join us. He rubbed his plastic chin considering the hazards. “Half a klick straight line distance. Call it three-quarters because of maneuvering around obstacles.” His experience eye measured.
“Approximately 3 to 4 inches of snowfall, so it’ll be about waist deep since none of it frozen into ice yet so she’ll have to push though it. Very rough terrain, I estimate 4 maybe 5 hours.” Duke calculated.
Woody lifted my chin. “Do you really want to do this?” he asked.
I nodded. “I know I have to be there for her. Yes, I have to do this.” I said firmly.
“Duke what do you think? Do we have any equipment we can loan her?” The Cowboy asked.
The square jawed solider answered, “None of our equipment would fit her. Wheeled transport would bog down and airdrops is out of the question given the weather. It would have to be Ty. He’s the only one with right qualifications for this mission.”
Woody looked up thinking. “Ty? But he hasn’t been out of the house since Korey worked on him. Do really think he could make it? It’s a long way.”
Duke nodded in return. “Experimental and untested in field conditions, but Korey has never had a failure yet. He does good work. I stand by my recommendation. Ty’s our man for this mission.”
Woody grabbed my hand. “Com’on! This isn’t over yet!”
We leaped off the ledge and ran climbed up the stairs. Reaching a bedroom door he motioned me to be quiet. Carefully, we crept inside where I could a boy sleeping. All about was the usual things I expect to see in a boy’s room and yet a lot of strange ones too. He had a TV in his room? I marveled.
We got to a table where Woody helped me up to the top. It was covered in parts and tools that I had no idea what they were for. While I looked about the Cowboy lowered a line for Duke to join us.
Together they walked over to a very strange vehicle. It had no wheels or even tracks like a tank. All along the edge was some kind of rubber like material but I couldn’t puzzle out its purpose. On top was a pair of motors with propellers but I didn’t see any wings so this couldn’t be an aircraft.
Woody whispered, “Ty, Ty wake up.”
Two decal headlights opened as whatever it was looked around. “Buzz” it asked.
“Shhh!!” the cowboy hushed Ty. “Korey is still asleep but we have a guest and an emergency. Tell’em Duke.”
Duke knelt down explaining the details, but I had my doubts. It seemed so hopeless. I was going to try no matter the consequences however my sense of urgency was even more intense.
Woody seeing my distress spoke, “Don’t worry Stacy. Ty can do the job. Korey’s really good with stuff like this. He upped the 9.6 volt power supply to 12 and replaced the lift motor. The entire skirt has been customized and Ty received an entire new set of actuators.”
I looked at him uncomprehendingly. “I haven’t the foggiest idea of what you just said.”
Woody chuckled. “Me neither. I was just repeating what Duke told me!”
I smiled despite myself. This was all such a novel experience for me. I’d never talked or interacted with anyone before except with Gwenn and this was completely different. Had I been lonely and not known it?
Duke stood. “He’ll do it. Let’s move it!”
Woody addressed the toys who’d followed us. “Alright people listen up. We’ve got to get Ty off the workbench and outside. Duke you and your guys handle the control center. I’ll get the crew to work. We need to get this finished so we don‘t miss Santa!”
The solider saluted and I had to step out the way as a frenzy of activity erupted. Lids were popped off of Tinker Toys and Erector Sets as Woody’s crew built a crane that lowered Ty so that he came to rest on a skateboard. Then quickly the crane itself was lowered.
Climbing down I was barely able to keep up but was passed by two groups of GI Joes carrying some kind of radio transmitter and a pair of binoculars above their heads as they double-timed by me.
I’d just gotten back to the window as Woody supervised the reassembly of the crane. Together we got the window open as a small gale of snowflakes blew in. Duke’s men fought the wind pushing Ty suspended from the Tinker Toy crane out the window.
“Okay,” Woody yelled. “Let’em down easy.” He directed with hand signals. Several of the Joes rode down with Ty guiding and preventing him from striking the house in the buffering wind. As soon as the strange craft touched down, the Cowboy sighed in relief. “There you go.” he said to me.
Meanwhile Duke was manning that radio transmitter. “Power on.”
One of his men answered from the ground, “Affirmative! Power on!”
Down below Ty buzzed as his motors came to life.
Duke twisted some controls as his men preformed their testing.
“Left rudder check!”
“Right rudder check!”
“We’re go for launch!”
Duke hurried over saluting Woody. “Mission vehicle is prepped and ready.”
The Cowboy jauntily returned it, “Ma’am your carriage awaits!”
I’d asked for help but looking the throng eagerly watching my departure this was far beyond what I’d expected.
Standing on my tiptoes I gave the big yahoo a peck on the cheek. Just for good measure as he stood there stunned I knelt and did the same to Duke. Then waving gaily I slid down the rope leading to my carriage.
Up above watching, still with dazed expressions, Duke remarked to Woody, “Dames!”
The Cowboy touched his cheek, “Yeah!”
Giving them no clue that I’d heard them, I landed on Ty and immediately the G. I. Joes there fasten me down using a rubberband.
“Crew is abroad. Securing launch area!” One yelled as they climbed the rope back into the house.
I grabbed onto my fur hat with one hand while the other held onto Ty.
Barely audible above me, Duke was counting down. “Five, Four, Three, Two, One, Zero! Typhoon 2 has Launched!”
Ty’s motors buzzed to life and he lifted up on that skirt they called it. With a fury of blown flakes, we roared off as we skittered across the winter landscape.
Snowflakes whipped by me as I hanged on for dear life!
Jingle Bells were never like as I was madly thrown as we raced the very wind itself. My makeshift rubber band harness stretched alarmingly as we turned so quickly we skidded wildly.
I could hear Ty’s motors revving as he fought for control. We flew part of the way up a snow bank but then came racing down even faster than before. My hat threaten to depart and I feared I would have to decide between keeping it or involuntarily leaving my transportation.
Suddenly we spun crazily out of control again coming to a stop. I’d closed my eyes in the wild spin and waited for the world to stop moving.
When we didn’t began moving again, I cautiously asked, “Are we here?”
Ty answered, “Buzz, buzz, buzz!”
Looking about I spotted the address, Number 40 Curtiss Drive. Releasing my harness, the rubber band snapped away into the night. Stepping in front of him I gave him a peck on the fender. “Thank you so much!
He gave me a sheepish blink of his headlights as his fan blades spun back to speed.
Turning to face that strange house full of some many spirits I waved hoping they could see me. Taking a deep breath, I walked to Gwenn’s home.
George with excessive concentration poured himself another glass. Was this the fourth or maybe the fifth glass of this stuff he’d had? No how many it hadn’t been enough. He could still feel. It still hurt.
Staring at the darkened room, he could see the shadows from the streetlights shining in thought the curtains. The only thing that had gone right on this Christmas Eve night was at least the power hadn’t gone out because of the snow.
Curtains? Ellen had picked those out, and he had hung under her supervision. Another memory of his beloved that he held lovely in his heart but now did nothing but torment him.
Christmas? It wasn’t Christmas with her. There wasn’t anything without her. Only the endless pain of missing her who’d been his heart and soul mate. Without her there was only pain, which not even this whatever kind of alcohol he was drinking helped to dull.
George wanted the agony to stop. Drunkenly, he stumbled into his study bottle in hand. Sitting down heavily, he fumbled for his desk key. It took a try or two but finally the case embossed with the Browning label lay in front of him.
His hands shaking, George opened it.
I perched hazardously on the icy window sill forlornly looking in. There in the shadows I could see my friend moving within. The feeling of hopelessness was even stronger and I knew I had to get inside now.
A hopelessness, which I was also experiencing. I’d covered every square inch of the outside but couldn’t find a way in. I was down to simply ringing the doorbell and hoping that she would see me after I became immoblie because of her presence.
That’s if she even answered at all. Whatever torment Gwenn was going though was even worse than her darkest spells growing up. I feared what such pain might cause her to do. Determined to over come these obstacles I tried to reach that button, but the doorframe was simple too icy. After the fifth time of slipping and falling I felt like crying despite my lack of tear ducts.
Lost in my own problem I wasn’t aware of his presence until his shadow eclipsed the wane light from the streetlamps. Grasping I looked up in surprise.
Like Woody and Duke, he too had a light within him that seemed to shine from within. A spirit I realized. That’s what those sparks were. I was seeing spirits, but his wasn’t a simple spark but a blazing beacon.
“Hello there Stacy,” He said merrily with a smile.
My eyes began to make sense of what I saw and I knew my mouth had fallen open in astonishment. His white fur trimmed red suit, and his flowing beard of silver. It couldn’t be!
I stuttered, “You, you, you’re Santa!” I said not quiet believing not only that he was real, but incredible aura of his presence. Of peace and happiness, yes, but he also radiated a kind joyous, good humor.
His eyes twinkled as he replied, “Yes, I am. That’s one of my names among many, but I see that you have a problem.”
Still shocked I protested, “But you’re a spirit. I don’t understand.”
I didn’t protest as he picked me up in his mitten covered hand. “Not all gifts are of material belongings. The most precious of all is as insubstantial as the very wind, but no less real or dear. You know this.”
Nodding, my thoughts turned back to my friend. “Gwenn! I have to get inside to her.”
Santa rasied a finger to his lips. “Shhh, and we shall, but first I have a gift for you.” Reaching in to his bag he pulled out a bright red ribbon wrapping it expertly about me. “
I looked at it, not knowing how to respond. “Thank you.”
“Now let’s be off!” Santa exclaimed placing a finger by his nose as if twitching it like a witch from that TV show.
Suddenly we were on the roof!
I was beginning to realize that if the sparks I saw could bring even toys to life, what miracles this bonfire I saw within this incarnation of Father Christmas could perform.
Walking over to the chimney, once more he twitched his nose, and in a whoosh we were inside Gwenn’s home. Watching his lively eyes, I suspected it was all a show for my benefit, but I couldn’t complain.
He placed me on the messy table and I curtsied. “Thank you!” I said looking for a way down even as I spoke.
Santa wagged a finger at me. “Before you hurry off I have a present for you to deliver to your friend. It'd gotten lost, but I know I can count on you to get it right. Now, be off. I’ve kept you long enough.”
I watched him walk over to an old style grandfather clock and wind it, carefully setting the time. Turning back to me, his eyes flashed again, “A Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
And with that he vanished in a whirl of lights that flew into the fireplace, up and out.”
I picked up the jewelry box that was for me quiet the arm load. Fortunately, it had a ribbon wrapped around it that let me slip it onto my back like a backpack.
Slipping off the table, I ran thought the dark gloomy house looking for Gwenn. Remembering where I last saw her though the window, I found her. Taking a second to plan my route, because if she saw me I would freeze to lifelessness, I needed to as close as I could.
With such pain, I would need all the help I could get to influence her.
“Click, Ta-Chang!,” rang loudly in the room as I saw Gwenn heft a darkened object in her hand.
“Oh God, NO!” I screamed running forward.
He stopped dropping the Browning 9mm High Power to his desk. What was that? It sounded like someone yelling.
Leaving the automatic, he stood shakily and looked around. The old clock that Ellen had him lug back from an antique show years ago chimed twelve times although George knew he hadn’t wound it up since she’d died.
Midnight, it was Christmas.
Spooked by the strange event, he carefully looked around again wondering drunkenly if he had prowler. Of course that would be a really weird burglar who broke into people’s houses to fix their clocks.
So this is what being drunk is like. He turned with exaggerated care walking back to his bottle and gun.
And stopped cold, his dulled reflexes nearly causing him to fall.
George rubbed his eyes not believing what he saw. There on his desk was the doll he’d kept a secret for his entire childhood. Blinking, he wondered if he’d so much to drink that he was seeing thing, but when he opened them again she was still there.
Dressed in on of the winter outfits he’d brought her, there was Stacy. She had a red bow tied about her and a small jewelry box attached to her arms.
Alarmed, he looked for who’d put her here. He was a little old for Santa Claus and she certainly didn’t walk in here on her own. The last he’d seen of her, he’d packed her and all of his childhood momentoes away, just before leaving for the Army. He’d been determined to somehow figure out this being a man thing.
George sat down with a huff. He looked over at her picking up the bottle. “Hello Stacy.”
“Hello Gwenn.” She seemed to answer with that English accent of hers.
Raising the bottle, he replied. “No one but Ellen ever called me that.”
“And me,” She said. “You know that isn’t very lady like?”
Swallowing the burning fluid, George gave the bottle a hard stare. “I guess I’m not feeling very lady-like right now.” He answered roughly slamming the liquor down hard on the desk.
Gently Stacy asked, “What happened Gwenn?”
George believed that he’d no more tears left, but he proved himself wrong. Once more racking sobs rocked him.
Although she was only a toy somehow it seemed that she was comforting him.
Taking a deep breath, he began. “I met Ellen almost 26 years ago, after I got out of the Army. She was everything I’d ever dreamed or wanted. I was so frightened what she would think if she truly knew me, but when she found out, there was nothing but acceptance.
“She told me that Gwenn was a part of who I was. Without that part of me, I wouldn’t be who I was. The person she loved. For 25 years we were together and never did one of us ever regret a moment. Ellen encouraged me to be true to myself, the real me, and not like I am now.” George explained sadly waving his hand at his rumpled drunken self.
Closing his eyes in pain and remembering, he said hoarsely, “Then she got sick last year. I made her go to the doctor. They couldn’t find anything at first, but at first we didn’t think anything of it. We trusted them that it hadn't been anything serious, but she never got better. When they checked again, it was too late for them to do anything for her.”
Tears ran down his cheeks. “She went so fast we had so little time left together.”
Wiping his face with his stained cuff, George’s eyes locked onto his gun. “After she died, I was more alone than ever before. Everything here, everything everywhere reminded me of her. It just hurts so much to be without her,” He cried.
“You’re not alone, Gwenn,” Stacy told him. “I was at your parents tonight and they do care even if they can’t understand or accept your inner self.”
Her voice seemed to soften, “And there is me. I have always cared. You are my friend.”
Forgetting she was just a toy George answered, “I know Stacy, but it hurts!”
“Gwenn,” She said, “You were blessed to have found the love of your life and to have spent so many happy years together. This might seem cliché, but do you believe that as much as she loved you that she would’ve wanted you to hurt like this? The happy times you had together should affirm your shared love, not cause harm.”
He pulled his gaze away from the gun. “No, Ellen wouldn’t have wanted me to be like this. She was always able to chase away my blues. Were my parents who brought you over here tonight?”
George thought he could almost detect a laugh from her. “Of course not Gwenn! They never knew about me or that little hidey hole you had me hidden in, inside your room. I walked some of the way, but had some help at the end from some new friends. It was Santa who helped me get inside.”
Sarcastically he asked, “So it was Santa who wound and set Ellen’s clock?”
He definitely heard humor this time. “But of course it was Gwenn. He tied this pretty bow about me, too. Santa also gave me this gift for you.”
George picked up his old doll. He found himself touching her coppery hair just as he had so many years before when he’d smuggled her home. Taking a deep breath he, removed the small wrapped gift.
Without really thinking about it, he set Stacy down with a careful fondness. Opening the box, there was a carefully folded note that he recognized immediately as one of Ellen’s origami hearts. Under the note, was a silver necklace with a pair of intertwined hearts. Turning it over, the inscription read Ellen on one and the other was Gwenn.
His hands trembling, George unfolded the message.
My Dearest Love,
It won’t be long now. I know how hard it will be for you. We’ve been married too long for me not to know your heart and soul. You’ve tried so hard to be strong for me and I love you even more than you will ever know for it. But now that I’ll soon be gone, it is time for you to spread your wings. For years I’ve done all I could to help the beautiful person I know is hidden within you. At times I’ve felt so guilty because I’ve felt that it was only your devotion to me that has held you back, although you would never say so.
Please my love, don’t grieve for me! I know our love is strong enough to withstand even death... but I don’t want you to pine away waiting for me! Go into the world and live! I’ll be waiting here for you and anyone you bring with you. I’ll want to know every single detail girlfriend!
The necklace is for my lover and truest best friend, Gwenn.
He rested his head in his hands, sniffing. For a long moment he was silent, lost in thought and the words of someone so very dear to him. Carefully, he put Ellen’s letter back inside the box. “For you Ellen,” He said gently holding his necklace.
His eyes fell on Stacy’s pull string that was behind her neck. Picking her, he gently pulled it.
Surprisingly clear after all of these years she said, “Hello, I’m Stacy.”
“Hi Stacy, I’m Gwenn.” She replied, her voice breaking. “I’m afraid that I’m starting all over and have a long way to go. What do you think?”
She pulled the doll’s string again. “Smashing!”
What if you were the last human on Earth?
Standing back from the window, so I wouldn't be seen, I stared outside using my binoculars. Studying how the aliens moved and their facial expressions, I practiced in the mirror. It had to be absolutely perfect so I would fit in.
Food was running low, and making midnight supply runs was proving more and more difficult. I was running out of options, and had no choice, but to make a brazen public appearance to get what I want. In theory, if I kept my mouth shut I should pass.
Turning to the mirror, I'd paid that price. While the rest of the world was being re-made, I'd mostly escaped, mostly. My body was completely hairless, and was androgynous as a 10 year old boy. At least I still had eyes, ears, a nose and mouth. Sighing, I didn't want to admit even that had been taken away from me. It was debatable that I was lucky or not in stumbling into that walk-in freezer.
From the few other survivors, I'd learned that it'd served as a faraday cage protecting me from the final part of the change. In fact, I was the very rare partial transformee. I looked just like one of the invaders, but I still had my own thoughts.
Not that any of the others trusted me, but at least I found out something about what happened. Well, what Doc thought had went down. Von Neumann probes were robotic machines sent to another star system programmed to find a friendly planet and prepare it for later arriving colonists. He thought these went a step further and changed us into bodies for these aliens to later inhabit.
All I knew was that everyone I knew was gone. My family, friends, neighbors, and even my own body, everyone was all gone. As far as we could tell, about 90% had been changed like me into some kind of female drone sorta like some hive insects. The other 10% were more sexually mature looking queens and princes. What we did know for dead certain was that those who got the full treatment were no longer human. They spoke a different language and behaved completely in ways no human would.
However most of those behaved like robots, but that didn’t keep them from reacting to an unmodified human. They immediately attacked us like madden dogs. Who needed ray guns when you out numbered your enemy thousands to one?
Later we saw the real aliens, or anyways a Prince that had been possessed as Doc called it. No one could mistake one for a drone. They moved with an arrogance that said it all. They were the conquerors, and Earth was theirs.
Slowly even our cities were changing being rebuilt into something different, inhuman. The weird angles and curves of those buildings were never designed by an earthly architect. Sure Doc and the rest tried to find out more, but each time anyone went out fewer and fewer returned.
Now it was just me, all alone.
Hell, I even thought about ending it all. What did I have to live for? I wasn't a man any more or even human, just a sexless female drone. But I couldn't do it. The will to live was still part of me. That gave me hope that something human lived within me.
If this was some SF novel, I would be infiltrating the alien ship, but I wasn't like that. I was only a normal guy not a computer programmer, solider or super spy. Hell, they didn't even have a ship that I knew of. Just everyone started changing without any kind of warning.
It hadn't escaped me that tonight was Halloween, but please excuse me if I'm not in the mood. The holiday just isn't the same with real monsters having taken over the world.
I ate and drank my fill of water, and then waited. After nature called, I would take my chances. Hell, I even bathed to wash away all the scents I could.
Finally, it was time.
I wasn't feeling fear, but a strange numbness.
Opening the door, I stepped outside.
What if you were the last human on Earth? A sequel to Alone.
Walking down those steps, of the little house that'd been my sanctuary, was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. It didn't help that I was naked as the day I was born either. The aliens didn’t wear clothes although Doc wondered if that would change when the weather got colder. Scouts had seen some wearing protective garments when it made sense to. They simply didn't seem to care to be clothed otherwise.
Part of my camouflage was the box in my arms. During my vigil, I'd seen them searching for portable home electronics, such as cell phones, music players and such. Finding enough to fill my box I was easy. The Berretta 92F hidden in the bottom was insurance because androgynous female drone or not, I wasn't nobody's fool.
Moving in that same smooth gait they had, I joined the line of alien scavengers. It was just that easy. All I had to do now was follow the leader. No one said anything, but they never did. They were just like robots, with the exception of the Princes and presumably the Queens although no one had ever seen one.
The rare Prince had been seen to talk and reportedly the drones had answered. Tall and unmistakably male, they were true invaders. There was nothing robotic about them, and the drones obeyed them without question.
Walking along, the hardest thing was remembering to keep in character. Humans whistled, hummed, and even sang as they walked, but not the aliens. Just the expressionless smooth faces looking straight ahead as they carried out the wishes of their masters.
It was about then that I really noticed the music. Okay, it wasn't really music, but a radio signal the aliens emitted. That was why my falling into that walk-in freezer had saved me. I'd already been changed into an alien, but faraday cage like effect had saved me from being reprogrammed.
However, I still had the radio in my head which was why Doc and the others never trusted me. The thing is while I could pickup the signal I had no clue as to what it said. The music thing was my brain's why of trying to make sense of the noise.
That was when I saw that I was being crowded by my fellow looters. A bolt of fear shot though me like lightning. Had I been discovered?
Frantically moving my eyes about seeking information, it hit me that all of them were moving in step, but I wasn't. Taking a chance, I stopped for a moment and then restarted on what I hoped was the correct foot.
Lucky for me that seemed to work. They wandered back to what I saw was a loose formation. The music faded in volume but I could still hear it, and it even seemed to have a beat I use to keep in step with everyone else.
Up ahead, I saw a line of school buses that the aliens were heading towards. It seemed we were about to take a trip. I thought about trying to drop out, but decided against it remembering how they reacted to me being out of step. That was kinda like a herd closing in to mildly discipline or teach another member.
I really didn't want to leave my neighborhood, but what did I have to loose? If this was expedition was heading back to some kind of center, who knows, I might get a chance to make some kind of difference.
The music got louder as they clustered together to get on the bus. I might be alone in this crowd of strangers, but I was also armed. Fifteen rounds for the invaders with one left up the tube for me.
Proudly with his head and tail held high, he ignored the useless chaff that hung about seeking favors from their betters. He had little respect for these courtiers who had never been entrusted with the most sacred of all duties. Being feline, all were of course Royalty, Princes and Princesses every last one, but there was only one Queen.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional A big thanks goes out to Paula for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Cathy who pre-read this. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
It had been so many years since he had last entered the court of the Queen. Proudly with his head and tail held high, he ignored the useless chaff that hung about seeking favors from their betters. He had little respect for these courtiers who had never been entrusted with the most sacred of all duties. Being feline, all were of course Royalty, Princes and Princesses every last one, but there was only one Queen. Not all had her confidence to be ‘awakened’ while abroad in the Middle Kingdom.
He was well aware of the envy of the onlookers and the disdain from his enemies. The first could take the evidence of his successes and work harder at achieving their own. For his enemies he would keep a watchful eye upon them. If it came to claws, he knew few were able to confront him and not come out the worse for it.
As always it was she who sat regally upon the dais that held his attention as well as his loyalty and devotion. Reaching the foot of the throne, he, as fitting for a feline of his stature, sat and inclined his head in respect to his one and only ruler.
She imperially returned his nod acknowledging her subject’s presence and gestured for him to begin.
The Prince addressed his liege. “My Queen I have returned to the Upper Kingdom as you have bidden.
Meeting her amber gaze with his own he asked, “May I ask why? My charge is even now undergoing a life changing metamorphosis. It has taken her many years and much pain to reach this point in her life. At no other time has she needed my services and attendance more. Why now My Queen?”
A muttered roar erupted at his insolence. To dare request the Queen of them all to explain herself! However his devotion to the one he had cared for and guided for so long demanded no less. It was not for himself but for she whom he had traveled to the Middle Kingdom to mentor so many years before that he dared question She Who Ruled.
A twitch of her Royal ears silenced her court. Meeting his eyes, her voice was stern but oddly compassionate and gentle. “You did well. The one placed in your care has come far and has arrived at the point where she will become the person she was always intended to be from the start. As you say it was the beginning, but she has made her decision. Her course is set.
“Yes, she will miss you and she will mourn your passing. Your care and devotion to her over the years has strengthened her, and she will recover and move on. In time you two will meet again here in the Upper Kingdom, but another has greater need of your particular talents.”
Her eyes blinked in a humorous smile saying, “Not many would have dared step in front of one of their monstrous machines demanding they stop for them.”
The Prince twitched his whiskers in response, “It seemed the thing to do at the time your Majesty. Speed was of the essence and it was vital I reach my charge as soon as possible. Any risk was worth it.”
The Queen nodded in agreement. “That is why I chose you. This next assignment will require all of your skills and cunning. Your new charge is another of two souls. She is in dire need of your services. Prepare yourself, for you leave on the morrow.
With that she turned her head signaling the interview was finished, but the Prince did not move. The court began another muted roar at his impertinence, but still he stood his ground.
The Queen’s ears flicked with annoyance at the actions of her court, but when she turned her head, her eyes narrowed seeing him still before her. None could mistake the so scarce nod of her head as anything but as a demand he explain himself.
The Prince spoke softy, “It is a boon, I ask your Majesty. If I am to leave on the morrow, then this night is my own. I have no affairs to attend to here for all was taken care of years ago when I first departed.”
“I ask that I be given leave to visit the Kingdom of Dreams,” he finished, inclining his head.
Disapproving the Queen asked, “You mean to visit the dreams of your previous charge?”
Not backing down he replied simply, “Yes, My Queen.”
Displeased she remanded him, “You are rude and impudent.”
He agreed with his ruler, “That is true My Queen. It is a part of my charms.”
Her amber eyes stared into his, and he feared that perhaps he had gone too far. But he truly felt he had no other choice. Refusing to back down, he merely nodded.
Sternly, with little of the compassion she had used before, she answered him. “You may have this one night, and one night only. I will not have you dividing your attention from your new duties. Understood?”
Bowing his head again in obedience he acknowledged, “Yes, your Majesty.”
With his tail still held high he departed the court, but as soon as he cleared last step he bounded away. Past the Rainbow Gardens, and past the Green Fields he ran. With a bound he climbed the steps of the Gates of Dreams. The guardians gave him a strict glare, but did not hinder him for he was there with the permission of the Queen.
Fearlessly he charged into the misty foggy banks of dreams. In less than a blink he found the one he sought. As he feared, she had not slept during the night and was only now beginning to fitfully drift into dream. Missing his presence, she had found no rest, and was awash with guilt, believing there must have been something else she could have done to prevent his passing.
The Prince knew better. When the Queen summons you, there is no choice but to answer. Yet he had managed to get this one last night with this one with which he had shared so much. On the morrow, he would once more be reincarnated upon the Middle Kingdom to comfort and guide another lost child of the creator.
He had shared his heart with so many, but he just couldn’t leave this one with so much pain still upon her soul. It was only a dream perhaps, but for now he nestled beside her as he had done so often in the past. Oh yes, one day they both would meet again upon those beautiful rainbow fields, but for one more time he comforted his charge with his purrs and love.
This hadn’t been a good day for her. The lost of her furry friend had hurt more than she could’ve believed. Now, more from exhaustion than from anything else she finally found sleep. In her dream her old friend hadn’t left her, but was resting at her side purring away. In that strange way dreams have, it seemed that he was almost speaking to her.
She had done her best for him and that was enough. He had to go soon, but one day they would be together again. His rumbling purrs comforted and helped chase away the hurt from the wound his passing had made.
Oh so slowly the grief upon her sleeping face eased and her restless tossing and turning fell into deeper slumber. Ever so slowly a smile crossed her lips as two old friends shared memories of good times one more time.
Dedicated to all of our furry little ones whom makes our lives a little happier and await us patiently upon those rainbow fields.
I sighed as the monster stepped into the crossroads. Why did it always have to be Balrogs?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Dedicated to Harold Ramis. He made me laugh, cry, think and wonder.
Thanks also goes out to Shin Eris and for her story Sky Goddess. My muse took that thought and ran with it, of course in a different direction. Gee thanks, as if my muse needed help being distracted!
I sighed as the monster stepped into the crossroads. Why did it always have to be Balrogs?
Because it was how my mind translated the indescribable into something that was sorta kinda understandable my inner narrator explained. Just like the crossroads where we were standing, it was my poor noggin’s best attempt at taking something humans weren't meant to know and make sense of it.
What the hell. This was only a dream after all. Even if it wasn't, when I woke that would be what the waking me would think and believe. That is if I woke. There was some truth to that old wives tale about dying in your dreams would cause you to die for real.
“Okay,” I yelled up at tall, dark and scary. “That's far enough. Just turn around get out of here and there won't be any trouble.”
“Are you a god?” He asked, staring at me.
I could tell he wasn't very impressed. Well hell, neither was I. Obese, old, farts have very little business at telling critters like Mr. Balrog what to go do with themselves, but that was the hand fate had dealt me.
“Despite advice I've heard to always answer that question with, yes.” I smiled, remembering that movie from my youth. “The answer is no. I'm not a god.”
His smile wasn't anywhere as pleasant as mine as he lashed out with that fiery whip. Sure it was only a metaphor, but I got my fat ass out the way as fast as I could anyways. It damn sure caused the asphalt of the road to bubble and hiss as it burned a deep gouge.
“Hey!” I objected, hugging and puffing as I stood up. “ I'm trying to be nice here!”
“Fuck nice.” The Balrog grinned evilly as he whirled his burning whip to strike again.
“Crap.” I cursed, trying to judge just when to dodge.
I almost made it. Tripping on the edge of the fresh ditch the flicking whip had dug, I went sprawling. It took old ugly only a second to bring the damn thing back around. A flick of his wrist had me wrapped in its coils as the flames took me.
Screaming, I fought to get free, but to no avail. Being burned alive really sucked as a way to die. The flames consumed all there was to burn, then laughing, another twist of his hand flung the remains into the battle scarred crossroads.
That laugh choked off as I stood.
Sighing, I reached up into the gathering thunderous clouds unsheathing a blade of lightnings. Rain, instead of splashing upon me, clothed my naked feminine curves in a suit of gleaming mail as impenetrable as diamonds as I stepped toward my foe.
Startled, he retreated, but it was too late for that. I'd given him his chance. Screw do-overs. He would have no mercy from me.
His lash whipped forward, but my blade was faster. The severed weapon writhed on the ground like a wounded snake. Another strike of lightnings took care of that, just in case that whip was more than what it seemed.
Throwing the useless weapon away he lept with his claws and talons extended. In a letter perfect lunge I skewered him, the smoking point of my blade protruding from his back between his wings.
“You said you weren't a god.” He gasped, as he fell to his knees.
“I'm not.” Viciously, I withdrew my weapon. “Try the more dangerous of the species.”
As he fell I took in a deep breath, fully enjoying the play of my breasts and of simply being my true self. Extending my own wings, I let the winds carry me skyward. This respite from my curse wouldn't last long, but I fully intended on making the most of it.
Perhaps I would never know what I'd done to warrant such a crude punishment. Was it an unthinking jest, an unwise bet or had I wronged someone else? The one certainty in the cosmos was there always someone more powerful, even among gods.
However, that wouldn't prevent me from carrying out my duties, protecting my world. Even when those I guarded turned against the flesh in which I'd been imprisoned in a cruel and heartless fashion. When I woke once more I would be male, a loner, someone who didn't fit in anywhere.
However, until then I was a goddess of the skies, and woe to those who challenged me. Putting aside the ache in my heart, I flew, reveling in one of the few freedoms allowed me. Soon I would be trapped in that hateful flesh again.
I was in my element. I flew. I was me. I was free.
“Whoa!” The early morning commuter exclaimed, surprised. The shooting star blazed across the sky until it was lost amid the light of the Morning Star and the crescent moon.
“That's beautiful.” He whispered, holding onto his steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee as he stared at the bright moon and the second planet and the sparkling trail that fading with every breath.
“Just beautiful.”
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story and any resemblance between real people and places is unintended. It does deal with Transgender themes and the supernatural. If these are not for you than stop here please! Thanks again to Janet Nolan, Hope, Nellie and Paula for their great work and patience in proofing and first reads. Any mistakes of course is mine. (Important Note: Due to a mix up on my part I posted an earlier version by mistake. Hopefully I have the corrected version posted now. I apologize to my proofers for my embarrassing goof. Please not the boiling oil!)
Boots: the Cat’s Tale
by grover
Her ears perked as she heard The One’s slow lumber up the stair with the beat of a monotonous death march. With her tail swishing distractingly, she scented the cold sandwich he had had for lunch and the sadness that followed him like a jinxed cloud.
As he opened the door, Boots greeted him with a welcoming purr and received a friendly pat in return, as was only her right, from The One who fed and attended her needs. He did scold her as she wove between his legs, but it was an old dance for them and done fondly.
The buzz of the man-thing assured her that her food would soon be presented for her pleasure. Boots’ cat’s eyes missed nothing as she ate. She could see that the evil ones had once more been bedeviling her charge.
When he sank deep into his large recliner, she gracefully took up her post in his lap purring softly to assure him that all was well.
From the moment they found each other she knew that this one was different. Her distant ancestors from Temples of The Queen of Cats would have recognized him, as she did, as one bearing the Gifts of The Lady.
Sometimes a cat is just a cat, except when she’s not. The queen chooses who wakes and who sleeps. Boots, as she was to be called by The One, wondered if the reason The Queen of Cats woke her, was because of The Lady’s Gifts he bore.
Precious indeed were her Gifts, and Boots wondered why this male had them. She considered that in this one’s last life he might have done some terrible wrong and was being chained to the male clay as his punishment on this turn of the wheel.
Boots discarded that notion for fate might send such a one to a lower form to learn a lesson, but not this slow endless torment. No, this had the ill-stench of a demon about it.
Deep in a dream it came to her, the demon must have ‘shoved’ the descending Ka aside and forced it into the wrong shell. In the beginning Boots thought the demon had done so out of some perverse humor, but as she made The One’s place her own she could scent that the demon had come there often.
What happened in the past was beyond her, but with grim efficiency she made sure that no more such would trouble him in this place. Whether in the form of vermin or bug, she hunted them ruthlessly, but if she keep The One’s place safe she could do nothing for him when he left.
Still, the demon continued to try her and she began to wonder why? Certainly it was feeding on the misery it had caused, but why continue to try her when she had proved she could defeat the forms it could possess.
Boots soon had her answer, when one day The One pulled out a case full of women’s things. With care The One dressed and with a sad smile pulled on a pair of boots. Dancing around the small bedroom, The One soon came face to face with a mirror.
Boots could see that The One’s efforts to become more like she was inside had fallen short of what The One desired. The pure heartache and pain was so intense that she was taken aback, but that turned to panic when The One pulled a long metal claw and placed it on his lap.
Shock electrified her and she flew to The One’s side. Startled, The One, hesitatingly put the claw down and let Boots do the best she could to comfort her charge with her purrs and soft fur.
Tears fell and in a short while the woman’s things were packed up again, but every few weeks the cycle would repeat only to end in the same shame and pain.
Boots was outraged! This demon thing sought not just to feed on The One’s pain, but if it could force him to remove himself from the wheel in the demon’s presence it could devour The One!
How dare it cause such pain and even attempt to destroy one with the Lady’s gifts! Boots’ diligence in guarding The One became noticeable even to The One’s few guests because of her possessiveness towards him as she’d sit sphinx like in her duties.
It was going to try something soon, Boots knew as she lay in the crook of The One’s arm alert for danger. The end of this hunt was coming and the demon was circling its prey, anxious for blood. Boots settled herself, and in her dream-walk, asked The Queen for wisdom and courage for the battle ahead.
That morning after The One had made breakfast for the two of them and left with his lunch, Boots carefully checked every inch of her place. The demon had whipped some lesser foul things into a frenzy and they had tried her, but with claw and tooth she showed them no mercy.
She feared this was just to wear her down, but such impudence couldn’t be allowed. The last moves were being made and she sat in the window gathering the warmth of the winter’s scarce sun to strengthen her for what may come.
It was time for The One to return and for hours she had been scenting the evil that lay just outside the threshold of her domain. Listening, she heard the beginnings of The One’s slow march up the stairs.
Boot’s fur rose in challenge to the evil without, as The One opened the door. The stench of the decay from the demon wafted like a foul miasma thundering down the stairs towards them.
A dog, the demon had possessed a Dog! Boot’s claws grabbed the wooden floor as she sprang forward to defend The One. She knew that in all likelihood that this was a gambit to get rid of her for it wasn’t a small dog at all.
The One, startled at the sudden appearance of a vicious dog, quickly tried to get inside, but the maddened animal lunged and forced the door aside. Knocked to the floor by the impact, The One tried to find something to defend himself with, just as a blur of black and white fury struck the fanged muzzle of the beast, attacking him.
Tooth and claw ripped and tore her enemy, but Boots knew she was outmatched. This close, she could tell the dog had been driven half-mad by disease even before the demon had possessed it and now it simply wanted to kill.
The One had backed away from the give-no-quarter battle and was shocked into paralysis by how his champion was being mauled by that hound from hell.
She raked her bloody weapons across the demon-beast’s sensitive nose again and again knowing any normal dog would have long ago given up the fight. This wasn’t a skirmish in the age old argument between feline and canine, but a fight-to-the-finish for an immortal soul.
As important as even that might be, it wasn’t a conflict over just any soul, but the soul of Her charge, one with the special attention of the Lady herself. That placed this duel into an arena, all its own, of good versus evil.
With so much at stake neither side could fold, for the loser would pay a terrible price. Roars of damnation and yowls of defiance shook the small dwelling while the significance and sounds of the battle were lost in the flow of mankind’s noise about them.
In her mad dance to inflict as much damage as possible before she fell, Boots was a fraction too slow as the jaws snapped shut about her. Twisting to lessen the damage, she almost made it when those jaws shut and her proud severed tail flew from her.
Very few alive had ever seen such a fight before, and years of pain and anguish fed his paralysis of indecision. He wanted to aid his champion, but didn’t know how until he felt something hit his shoe. Boots proud tail, that she held high as her banner, lay fallen at his feet.
The pain drained her strength as the teeth savaged her and she knew that this fight was over. Boots had hoped for more, but to give her life for the Queen and The Lady was a worthy end. The demon behind the dog’s eyes gloated as it closed for kill.
It never saw the kitchen chair. The One, tormented to the edge of taking his own life, exploded with the fury of seeing his loved one’s mutilation and focused all that power in one tremendous blow.
The old, oak, kitchen chair, hewed and shaped by his grandfather’s hands and now the only remaining piece of a set, shattered as it became the conduit of the Lady’s power and vanquished the beast’s foul demon sponsor. In that contest love overcame mere evil and the Lady’s will thwarted the demon’s bid for power and the demon was no more.
The energy of all the souls, the demon had fed upon and tried to make its own, swirled about it as it died and Boots prayed to the Queen and The Lady for them to make right the wrongs the demon had done. Slowly her eyes closed to the sobs of The One for his champion.
***** 6 months later *****
Boots lay sunning herself in the window sill. Her battle had cost her much, as her nub of tail demonstrated, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. They were proud marks of a battle won and each was a badge of honor.
The Lady and the Queen each looked after their own, both The One and the champion had survived. Taking the energy from the demon’s passing, they had used it to give The One the life that should have been.
In the time that had followed, they had had their black moments, for sometimes achieving one’s dearest dreams is harder than the fight for them. The two of them had supported each other, and over time the dark times became less and the sunny happy ones came more often and reigned in The One’s place.
Her ears perked as she heard the happy tattoo of clicks and taps coming up the stairs. Boots stretched herself, knowing that soon she would return to the Queen, but comforted by the fact that The One would always have a companion to guard her back. She limped over to be greeted by her charge, as was her right.
The End.
What would you do if you had a chance of living your life over again? Would you correct all those mistakes hindsight told you? Use your knowledge of the future to become rich? But what if this wasn't quite the past you remember?
Notes:
Last night I had a dream. Not a nightmare, or even the other extreme where you wake up smiling. No, this one made me look into the mirror searching my heart for whence this dream had come. I think it could best be said that it gave my life-long desires and daydreams a different slant or Point of View if you will. I’ve tried to as best as I can present that ‘dream’ here in a form that is understandable and in a way that gives you the reader the same impact that hit me. So please bear with me as we start our journey.
I knew I had to be dreaming. The early spring forest was just beginning to wake. The woodland scents filled the cool crisp dawn breeze. The reason I just knew this had to be a dream was because I could see clearly without my glasses. But what made this so unforgettable was the beautiful, wonderful silence. Oh there were the bird calls and rustles of the leaves underfoot. Each and every sound crisp and clear. However that was all I heard. The demonic ringing tones I’d lived with for so many years were no more.
Happy contentment filled me as I strolled. I felt reborn. Each step without aches or pain my made me more confident they were now nothing but history.
The chill air was invigorating and yet relaxing. My pace quickened as I spied the lightening dawn. Breathing in the scents of the pines, cedars and other plants and flowers, my troubles and worries evaporated like the morning dew. There was an opening in the trees ahead, a glade.
I began running so I could catch the rising sun as it broke though the trees. Joyfully I ran into the light.
A gentle hand shook me awake.
“Time to get up Ernie,” said a voice I hadn’t heard in 30 years.
More than a little confused I blinked rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My so vivid dream had me befuddled. Even in the murky morning light, I could see I wasn’t in the apartment I shared with my friend whose luck was just as hard as mine.
Still trying to wake up and make sense of this, I was snuggled down deep in the warm blankets. It felt so good. All the usual ‘growing old’ distractions that usually woke me was missing this morning. A tentative hand outside of my cocoon found it was cold out there.
Burrowing, back down into the warmth, I pushed the encroaching real world away. Vainly I wanted to return to my dream that even now was fading away. Disappointed I peeked out of my burrow.
Next to my cozy sanctuary was another bed, with a large shadowy shape standing next to it.
“Adam, time to rise and shine.”
My mouth went dry and I thought my heart would burst from my chest. Despite the cold I threw myself out from the covers searching wildly for proof this simply could not be!
My hand found the lights, and the room stood revealed. Painted a baby blue, it had two beds with a pair of desks at their foot. Both pieces of furniture overflowed with the usual schoolboy clutter of books, papers and comic books.
In that other bed, a boy grumbled loudly at the introduction of bright light into his morning. He was about ten with close cut dark brown hair. Shooting me a glare that could kill, he reached for his black plastic frame glasses. Years ago in the army we used to call those ugly things birth control glasses because no girl would touch you wearing those things. Only young kids wore those things. Kids like my younger brother Adam.
But it was the man standing there looking at me strangely that caused me to freeze. Although he seemed huge to me, I knew that he really only stood 5 feet 6 in his socks. As usual, he had on a pair of denim coveralls with a pair of battered boots on his feet. His face was lined with his 69 years, but his full head of iron gray hair still had traces of the red from his youth. He was my father, Big Ernie. That’s because I had that dreaded ‘junior’ hanging off the end my name. I’d been called Little Ernie.
The only problem with that was he’d died of a massive heart attack 20 years ago. Even more impossible what I was seeing before me was right out of my youth years before even then.
Both my father and brother stared at me.
“Ernie, you alright?,” my father asked in his soft tenor.
I’d always been fair complexioned because of the red hair I shared with him. Blood drained from my face as I turned even whiter. I don’t know if it was because the cold or shock of waking up here. Making my poor blood starved brains work, I stammered, “I have to use the bathroom.”
Grabbing the jeans and shirt hanging off the chair in front of the desk, I fled. Trying to dress, and looking all about in near panic, I damn near ran into the huge antique dinette in the dinning room. I couldn’t keep myself from checking the floor under my feet. Only a few weeks ago, I’d been here. But it’d been a half burnt ruin! The roof was caved in and you took your life in your hands if you dared go inside. I foolishly had because I was looking for some memento of this place where I’d grown up. I’d found nothing inside, but outside I’d found a patch of my Mom’s violets that somehow survived the years of neglect and weeds.
I passed though the kitchen rich with the delicious smells of what was thought as a healthy breakfast in the 70’s. Bacon, eggs, and toasting bread kept warm in the oven. This also was the only heated room in the house. Passing though, I nearly ran to the only bathroom that was off of my parents room.
Panting more from my continuing shock than from my brief run, I grabbed the sink under the mirror. What I didn’t see was my near 50 year, worn out old face. No balding red hair or double chins caused by far too much weight. My hazel eyes lacked the heavy sedimentary lines of too many sad years trying to be someone I wasn’t.
Tears fell as I tried to make sense of this. Had I finally gone crazy, or was this really time travel like it seemed? I stared at the mirror again.
At a guess, I was in my early to mid teens since I’d been a late developer. I didn’t get hit by puberty until I was nearly 16. My face was still smooth and lacked the pocked scars that rampant acne left behind. Lifting my shirt I lacked the hairiness that’d given me so much anguish and such a rotten self-image. Over the years those caused me to let myself go so badly.
“Hey! Let someone else have a turn.” Adam yelled banging on the door.
“Give me a minute!” I hollered back. Rushed, I sat fishing out my penis to pee. Thankfully, I didn’t see any signs of puberty like pubic hair. Resisting the urge to start crying, I finished my business grabbing my toothbrush and the paste. Those were easy to find because I was the only one who even tried to brush regularly.
One of my health problems always been my teeth. As our house had only one heated room even in the winter proved, we were quite honestly poor white folks. Perhaps some might even call us ’white trash’ given neither of my parents had even finished high school. Part of the price of that life was inadequate attention to things like dentistry.
Even in the 70’s good health took money that we simply didn’t have. You would think that would make prevention even more important, but it didn’t work out that way. Having your teeth rot, fall out, and replaced with dentures were thought of as the normal progression of things.
I’d no clue as to what was happening to me. However, developing and keeping the habits that let me keep most of my teeth into my late 40’s wasn’t easy. It was harder when you’re so buried so far under with depression that even doing simple things was like climbing an impossibly high mountain. If I’d indeed been given some kind of second chance, by Gawd I was going to keep my teeth in better condition than the first time.
Letting Adam have the bathroom, I brushed away going back to the warmth of the kitchen. My Mom was up lighting up her first cigarette of the day with a cup of hot coffee in her hands. As usual for her, she looked so sad. It was as if she wanted to be anywhere else in the world but here. Already she had one of her romance paperbacks in hand. I knew she would escape into its pages at the first opportunity.
I really couldn’t fault her because I knew she’d been horribly abused as a young girl by those who should’ve protected her. Stuck here deep in the rural south with four guys would’ve been tough for any woman. For her it must’ve, no was doubly so.
Seeing her young and not bowed by time made my heart ache and hurt. Avoiding the burning ember at the end of her hand, I hugged her. “Good morning Mom,” I greeted around the toothbrush.
Sleepily she looked at me surprised, but sleepily smiled back. Scooping up my youngest brother Darryl, she had that cancer stick hanging off her lip.
I kept from wincing at the sight. In about 15 years, cancer would cause her to lose one of her breasts and finally give her the motivation to stop smoking. Stop or die the doctors told her.
My Dad was retired from the Railroad after 47 years. He was the primary carer of the family doing most the cooking and chores. Seeing him serving breakfast, I took out my toothbrush, as Dad said blessing for breakfast.
Now that Adam was busily eating I went back to finish my brushing. Checking out my mouth in the mirror I was a little surprised. The damage wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Strange because I knew at this time, I hadn’t cared for my teeth. Even the toothbrush was school supplied as were those red tablet things meant to rub it in just how bad the dental plaque build up was.
Rinsing my mouth out I was not complaining. Staring at myself in the mirror I wondered again what in the hell was happening. Able to think somewhat I again, I tried to work it out.
Trying to pick out differences between what I was seeing and three decade old memories didn’t help much. My last trip out here to the old place made me realize how small it was and yes, poor even if hadn’t been burned out.
What I was seeing now, here, didn’t look shabby or rundown. Oh it did have the clutter of three kids, and two adults living in a two and a half bedroom house. I call it a half-bedroom because the small room was the nursery where brother Darryl slept. Seeing as how he looked about three or four, that would put me at about 13.
All of which meant I had a couple of really big problems. My parents health concerns aside, I was staring right into the maw of puberty, again. Hell, the first time was worse enough.
Sighing, I had to write all of this down. I knew me. My memory wasn’t very good even in the best of situations which this wasn’t. Everything I could remember about events and stuff that was going to happen up the last day I could remember, March 29th 2010 had to go down on paper. Next I had to find out just when I was. Fortunately we got the newspaper everyday which should solve that problem. The third thing on the list was going to suck. Us being woke up so early meant today was a school day.
I doubted I could even find my way to the right room, much less interact very well. Unprepared didn’t even began to cover it. This wasn’t going to be a lot of fun.
Par for the course, Adam had cleaned his plate and was staring greedily at mine.
Looking down at the plate full of grits, bacon, eggs and toast, I halved it. I’d been a big eater growing up, and had paid the price in my latter years. I was not going to end up fat again. “You want it?” I asked.
Like a staving wolf, he nodded yes, “Sure give it here!”
Both my parents noticed that. “You feeling okay, Lil’ Ernie?” My Mom asked.
Remembering how rare leftovers were in this family that left nothing eatable behind, I did my best to imitate a teenager, “I’m okay. Just not hungry that’s all.”
My Mom and Dad cut each other a sharp glance.
“Nervous about Career Day?” She asked.
I froze. Career what? I didn’t remember a damn thing about any Career Day.
Sneaking a look at Dad, his brow could only be called thunderous. He was old fashioned and hard in a way that most could never figure out. The whole reason my brother and I were going to the school we did was because of segregation. As far as he was concerned the Whites kept to their side of the tracks and the Black had better the hell stick to theirs.
I don’t think he was a bigot so much as he was bound and set in his ways. Many of our rural neighbors were Black and he seemed to be on good relations with them. It was more, I think, that all of us, poor White and Black, being at the bottom fought for the same scarce resources. The operative word here is poor.
Seeing the veiled storm in his green eyes, whatever this Career Day was he didn’t like it one damn bit.
That made me look over at my Mom. I’d always been closer to her. Because of that I was certain I didn’t see any anger but she was definitely concerned about me.
Just what in the hell was Career Day and did I dare ask?
I think it was the anger I saw in Dad’s eyes that gave me my answer. “I’m okay. No biggie.”
The whole family looked at me. Whoops, slang. I tried to remember just when that had come into use. Damn I was going to have to be careful. “Hmm… It’s no big deal.” I corrected myself.
My Mom shook her head. “You kids watch way too much TV.”
I kept my smile to myself. I knew she spent a couple of hours a day watching her soaps.
Speaking of TV, I looked up at the small set we had in the kitchen. Growing up, I’d watched a kid’s morning show called Mr. Knozit. Played by the local weatherman, he gave out information about how to dress for the weather, as well as birthday announcements and other local stuff.
My mouth dropped open. The little 13 inch was set in a nook so the whole family could see it. I’d watched countless programs on that little TV. The problem was it was a Black and White set. We were struggling here. No color TV’s for us.
But right there in front of me was a color TV.
What was going on here? We’d never had a color set. The first color one I’d ever had was the one I went out and brought after I joined the Army. That wouldn’t happen for another seven years.
Carefully I looked around for other artifacts that shouldn’t be here. Shocked and dazed, there was a couple things I didn’t notice the first time. The gas heater that I’d warmed myself so many times was gone replaced by a plain vented box with a GE logo on the front. The gas stove was also gone with one that kinda looked liked an electric with a Kenmore label. I say kinda because it didn’t have elements but had instead much more advanced gray markings where the elements were.
Even in the apartment I shared in 2010 our stove had those spiraling electric elements. Trying not to call attention back to myself, I looked back at the TV. There in living color was this huge space station. The title read Skylab.
A space geek, even I wasn’t sure when Skylab had gone up. I think it was sometime in 73, but it sure as hell wasn’t this thing. When I say huge I mean like it made the International Space Station look like a toy. It was at least three times larger. Hell it looked liked there was even something that looked a lot like the ‘Discovery’ from the movie 2001 docked to it.
My poor brains picked out at least three winged shuttles of some sort docked to it too. NASA never had the resources to put more than one Space Shuttle up at one time. Wondering again just what was going on I finished my bacon and eggs. I was still a little hungry but it was no contest. No matter when or where I was, I was not going to end up fat again.
Then my brothers and I was rushed out the door to start our journey to school. Thank Gawd, my book bag was already loaded. Lugging the heavy thing outside, I got another shock.
During these years when we were driven to school, my Dad had this red Ford Country Squire station wagon. The thing was a land barge of the first water. However what set out in our drive looked as if it’d mated with one of the winged and nose-coned Dodge Daytona’s.
I damn near broke my neck stumbling down the stairs because my younger, shorter legs had to take larger steps. Desperately needing some time to adjust I climbed into the back. Lucky for me the the folding rear seat in the cargo area was still there.
Dad was still very ‘unhappy’ about this Career Day thing. He’d given me a startled look when I’d hugged him, but there was no way I wasn’t going to. The last time previous to this little time trip of mine that I’d seen him was in a funeral home. He must’ve thought the affection was because of whatever was going to happen today. I think I heard him and my Mom arguing about keeping me home, but for some reason they couldn’t. I think I saw him looking at the locked gun cabinet which didn’t help my confusion or growing fear at all.
Adam was just as happy to have the backseat to himself because Darryl was up front with my parents. My brother cut me a look that said so clearly I could almost hear him say it, “Better you than me.”
If memory severed, I had about 30 minutes before we got to school. Oh, the joys of living in the country. Without missing a beat I emptied out my book bag looking for clues. Shifting though the pile of English, Science, and Math books, I found my first one.
A math test with my name and Mrs. Lambert on it. Okay Sixth Grade and because I was a May baby that would make me 13. Next year, I would start Junior High School. That would make this easier since I wouldn’t need to switch class rooms. Harder because I would be with the same kids all day. Much greater chance of screwing up using slang not in use yet or goodness only knew what.
Next I found the science book. It was a choice between that and history, but being a space freak it was no contest. Checking the text book’s table of contents I surprised myself by going right to it. Anti-gravity, discovered by Sir Herman Bondi. The first negative gravitational mass propulsion system flew in 1960, the year before I was born.
There was lot more, but I didn’t have a lot of time. I had to at least look over my other assignments. Besides me being undersized, some of the redneck gorillas in my class were already shaving. I also had a few learning disabilities just to make life interesting. If I wanted to keep from being a target I had to blend.
The weird thing was I didn’t have any homework other than a writing assignment. That was just a few hundred words about what career I wanted to pursue. It seemed to tie into whatever the hell Career Day was all about. Scanning it, I knew for sure this was nothing I’d written in my own universe. The thing was, I could’ve. Back then I was aviation crazy. This paper was about being a pilot and astronaut.
I figured that I had to have fallen though not just time, but into another dimension. Nothing else made sense, given the available information. Just how and why I was here was still a mystery. I did remember something about the Hadron Collider gearing up for some big test, but that was about all. The doomsayers had been crying for months that the European machine would make black holes that would swallow up the whole planet.
Maybe it had somehow sent me here. Could be I’m dead and this is a very strange Purgatory. Just no damn way of knowing. I did know I still had a problem. I was transgendered. As far as I could tell that hadn’t changed. I’d always felt Mom was closer to me in heart and soul. While I loved my Dad, he was the strong silent type never showing his emotions much in front of us kids. When I’d hugged my Mom earlier I’d felt the same way I’d always felt.
Damn big guesses on little evidence, but I had to work with what I had to hand. I had to assume, for my own peace and sanity, that I was still me no matter what. However that also meant that the same prejudices were in place, just like they were 30 years ago. I’d heard some real horror stories about the so called cures for people like me. It’d taken 30 years before at least some of the quacks admitted Gender Identity Dysphoria just might have a physical cause. Back when I was right now, for a boy named Ernie to wear a dress could get him sent to a mental institution, or worse.
First order of business was to get though this Career Day thing. Then catch myself up on changes between wherever, whenever here was and what I remembered. Possibly I could plan things out to take advantage of companies and stocks that, in my world, made it big. That way I could have enough financial security to deal with my transgender condition.
All too soon we were there. Something about Mr. Knozit’s show kept sticking in my memory. Damn, but it’d been a long time since I’d thought about any of this. Okay, checking my notebook I found a calendar, alright February 9, 1973. Hey, it’s a Friday.
Finding myself 36 years in the past made me miss that important piece of information. Get though today and I had the entire weekend to try to deal with my temporal/dimensional displacement. The weekend before Valentines but no biggie since I was a loner.
Then it hit me. The weatherman turned kid show host had cracked a joke about the Farmer’s Almanac calling for snow. Oh-My-Gawd! The blizzard of 73.
I couldn’t forget that day. It started snowing around the first recess, but all the teachers claimed it wouldn’t stick. I’d left my jacket in the car because Mister Knozit, after joking about the snow, said it should get up into the 50’s, sweater weather.
An hour after that the snow began coming down hard. It didn’t stop for nearly two days. Maybe up folks up north were used to weather like that, but this part of the South, Hell no!
Another important tip, I needed to write down. Assuming I was right, whatever anti-grav or other discoveries this dimension had made, weather forecasting wasn’t one of them.
Alrighty then! The first change to the time-stream coming up. Lil’ Ernie going to be warm instead of freezing his butt off! That jacket was coming with me.
Just to show what a nice sibling I was, and that I didn’t harbor any ill feeling towards all the bad stuff I knew he was going to do, I said, “Better take your jacket Adam. You know if the weatherman is calling for a nice sunny day it’ll probably rain. Who knows, it might really snow!”
He gave me the evil eye, still holding a grudge about me turning the lights on so early. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I don’t have Career Day today, you do!” Adam said making me know for damn sure that he thought it was a really bad thing.
Clambering out the station wagon, I was really grateful over losing some 36 years of aches, pains and other infirmities. That’s not beginning to mention, being able to see and hear without glasses and hearing aids. I could only hope that I managed to do a better job looking after myself this time around.
Standing there in the cold I turned looking at my Mom and Dad. I really wanted to hug both of them hard and never let go. However, while I may have forgotten a lot of the details, I knew if I did, my schoolmates would be throwing it in my face. Thirteen going on 20, all wanting to grow up too damn fast.
Sighing, I settled for waving bye. Again not something I did normally, and no doubt they thought it was about this Career Whatever-the-hell-it-was Day. No, it was just seeing them alive and well after missing them for so very long.
Turning and walking to the school I saw another difference to this timeline. There were Blacks among the older students on the High School side of things. Considering that this private school had begun two years ago because of desegregation that was a huge change.
I sighed. Welcome to the South in the 1970s. I remember a little ditty I used to tell myself. “A person is a person, no matter how tall, wide, or short. Color nor sex matters not at all because a person is a person and that is all.” It’d been my defense against turning into one of those hate filled fools.
Going inside, I saw a few Career Day posters on the wall, but they didn’t say a single useful thing. Since I’d found out who my sixth grade teacher was, finding the right classroom wasn’t hard. Finding the right desk was. I solved that by not taking a seat and looking out the window until the last moment before roll call. Then slipped into an empty one. No one complained so I must’ve guessed right.
Mrs. Lambert was a former high school French teacher slumming on the Elementary side of things. She’d a habit of using French at times such as ’quieting’ her boisterous class.
I used the roll call to try and remember everyone’s name. Lawrence Applegate the class clown, to Chris Sawyer the class’s red neck bully, I counted them each off. Of the girls Laurie Green, who’d ‘blossomed’ during the summer vacation, to Becky Driggers the tomboy. Each and everyone were dancing about nervous as shit.
Even Lawrence, although he tried to cover it up, with bad jokes. Amazing how this looks though the eyes of a 49 year old. I’d four times their experience, but they at least had some clue as to what was coming. I was unfortunately in the position of being relatively calm because I was clueless.
Despite Mrs. Lambert’s best efforts everyone jumped out of their seats as this large bus pulled up outside. Peering out the window, I saw it was much like other buses that used to visit the public school I once went to. They were traveling clinics for immunizations and other things.
What wasn’t usual was the National Guard ¾ ton weapons carrier and the deuce and a half. It wasn’t for show either as the troopers filed off carrying M-14 rifles. My question as to just what was Career Day was becoming more pertinent by the second.
A couple of folks filed off the bus and began setting up this large privacy screen to hide the front entrance as well as the exit. Looking rather cold they kept glancing over their shoulders at the Guardsmen as well as further away. Peeking around, I saw a small group of, I think, frozen looking protesters. But of course they were too far away for me to read the signs they carried. Back towards the entrance to the Career Bus, I saw a line forming there of those Black and other minority students I’d seen earlier.
Then she came into our classroom. What can I say? The whole class went silent as if they knew a big nasty predator was near. This one was tall, blond with a smile that would make any lawyer or shark envious. A witch was a witch no matter how attractive she was. This one introduced herself snubbing our teacher Mrs. Lambert with barely a glance. “I’m Ms. Johnson. I’m here today to introduce you children to our Career Day program. It will widen your horizons and heighten your understanding of the real world.”
It was said in such a nasty sweet voice, I knew this was a bad thing. I closed my eyes betting I knew what was going to come next. It did.
“Are there any questions,” She asked but her tone assured anyone daring to do so would regret it.
Even so I saw Becky the tomboy thinking about it. I didn’t miss our teacher’s so slight shake of her head saying please no don’t do it.
Just what in the world happened to the United States to cause this? Did the Soviets somehow take over or did we had a dictator now?
I saw our headmaster standing at the door as it opened. Reputed to the be a descendant of one of the biggest advocates for slave owners back before the War between the States, he’d practically built this school with his own two hands. He did not look happy.
With him was another man I didn’t recognize. Dressed in a dark suit he had that official presence thing written all over him. He whispered to Ms. Witch.
Giving us more of that false smile she said, “As your name is called please get up and follow Mr. Smith.”
As it became apparent she was using the alphabetical roll call, I turned my attention back outside. With my last name being in the “Y’s” I had a while. What I was really wondering was if fate would give me and Vonda Summers, the next to last names, a reprieve.
I saw the first five of my classmates disappear behind that screen. However, I couldn’t see anything of those who exited. Then I saw what I‘d really been searching for.
Floating deceptively gently downward was a snowflake.
Hal Shaw, a kid I remembered who liked to draw a lot, asked, “What are you looking at?”
Ms. Witch was still droning on about absolutely nothing, but I’d dealt with those like her before. No way was I going to be caught talking.
Writing at the top on my notepad, “It’s snowing.”
The white stuff is rare this far south. He blinked and started staring out the window too. We were both soon rewarded by more falling flakes.
I smiled. Thank you Mr. Knozit and Gawd bless the Farmer’s Almanac.
Another five were called but not one returned yet. More snow fell and more students were called, but still no one came back. I admit I was nervous. What’s going on and where is everyone?
By the time Ms. Witch got to me, Hal, and Vonda, it was snowing hard. Just as I remembered, Mrs. Lambert remarked, “It won’t stick.”
Ms. Witch with unsettling satisfaction called out the last name on the list, me, “Ernest Younger.”
I got my coat and went to the door. Ms. Witch kinda glared at me I guess because of the jacket, but I simply looked at the snow falling outside.
It really wasn’t very deep yet. Just enough to really cover the ground, but it was showing no signs of stopping. I knew that by the time it ended some areas would have two feet of snow, an all time record that would stand at least as far as 2010. Don’t you just love foreknowledge.
As we marched to the bus our Headmaster and Ms. Witch followed us. Reaching that screen I lagged behind when I heard them arguing. “We’re closing the school early. Everyone is closing. We’ve already notified the parents. I know you have a schedule. If this keeps up road conditions are going to get very bad. You can continue this later.”
Wicked Witch of the South wasn’t going to back down. “That won’t be a problem. Processing will finish with this last group in less than 15 minutes.”
It was clear that he didn’t like her one damn bit. “You’re going to just run them though your damn machine and let them go without any kind of orientation or preparation? What kind of person are you?” He angrily accused.
Her tone turned as frosty as the falling snow. “I trust you’ll keep a civil tongue! This is a Federally mandated program. You don’t like me and I don’t like you. However, I have the authority here. We will keep on schedule.
That’s when she looked in my direction. Ducking out of sight I decided discretion was the better part of valor. I did find out that whatever this was, I wasn’t marching into the Nazi ovens, I hope. Also this definitely wasn’t a 'what do you want to be when you grow up' thing. The National Guard, protesters and Ms. Witch made that perfectly clear.
Hal just went in leaving poor Vonda as next. The poor child was shivering and I don’t think it was only the cold. I might be in a 13 year old body, but my mind and soul was 49.
I did what an adult would do. “It’d be alright. Just smile and think happy thoughts.”
She looked back at me. Probably wondering what was up with me. Here was the painfully shy retarded kid offering her comfort.
Meeting her eyes, I kept on smiling. “Just imagine them as an animal. What do you think Ms. Johnson is? I’m thinking a shark with big nasty teeth!”
Vonda looked at me as if she’d never seen me before. “You sure she isn’t a snake?” She said back in a low whisper.
I replied, “Could be. So shiny and pretty, but watch out for those big cruel fangs.” I said making the fanged ‘mean’ symbol in American Sign language.
I doubt she knew of the double meaning of my gesture, but I did coax a smile from her.
Then the door opened and it was her turn.
Left alone, I pulled my jacket tight against the cold. It was sheltered from the wind but a few drifting flakes still found their way inside. The awning roof was bulging heavy with snow.
I thought of that Christmas tale of the snowflake with an entire world contained within; Of Horton and the voice he’d heard. How had I ended up here, in a place so familiar and yet so very different. At first I’d believed I’d somehow been granted a second chance, but now I wondered. Was there a reason I’d been brought here?
The ominous door opened. “Ernest Younger?”
Seeking serenity and calmness, I went up the steps inside the belly of the beast.
I was in a small clamped space with an area that reminded me of an airport metal detector or those shoplifting scanner things at Walmart.
A man told me, “Please step forward into the circle on the floor. This will take just a moment.”
In the low light I couldn’t see much, but looking down there was scuffled white circle in front of me. However no profit in balking at this point. I stepped forward. There was a bit of a hum from under my feet, but nothing uncomfortable.
With my hearing back at where it was when I was 13 I heard almost everything. Maybe it was just me so used to listening for every last sound. Perhaps it was something else.
“Ah, John, there’s a problem.” a guy sitting looking at some kind of screen said.
“What is it? We need to finish this up! It’s snowing like crazy outside. There’re cars jammed up with parents trying to pickup their kids. Hell, they’re probably waiting for this kid,” said the man Ms. Witch had introduced as Mr. Smith.
“You mean we’re going to process this one and just throw’em out without any clue? That’s not what this is suppose to be about, John!”
“Hey, Robert I didn’t make the call. What’s the problem?”
Robert sighed I think, “Look at this reading. This is nothing like what his tests results say they should look. I know his file is flagged that he has learning disabilities, but this looks like a girl’s pattern. And this activity is all wrong! This is what I would expect from a adult brain not a teenager. I don't think the preplanned program is going to work. It‘ll trip the safeties for sure.”
John answered, “So run it instead as a follow up. The original program will be just a guideline, but that should be enough of an change to satisfy you know who.”
“Ernest,” the man I now knew was Robert said. “Please walk down the hallway. You’ll see pictures of people on both sides. When you see one that suddenly glows for you, stop there. Now don’t try and be cute. We’ll know when you’re in the right spot, understand?”
I thought about letting him know I overheard everything the two of them said, but thought it better to keep my own counsel for now. “Yes sir. I understand. Walk down the hallway and find the picture that looks the brightest.”
A curtain opened, and I stepped forward. Just like he’d said on both sides of me were pictures of people. More correctly, they were images, probably holographic. A quick glance told me they were all women. Did this bus have some kind of brain scanning machine? Even in 2010, only MRI’s could tell the difference in male and female neural patterns. I’ll buy anti-grav accelerating the space program, but the medical field too?
I sighed again, more mysteries in this strange somewhen.
Giving the hallway more of my attention, I saw the life size images at eye level were all girls around my age. Above them were what looked to be the grown up version. The kids were all dressed in 1970’s fashions that looked really dated to my eyes from 2010. The adults were, however, in the professional garb of the time. Most were stereotypical careers for women of the time; nurses, teachers, and others. A few were those dominated by the male of the species; Pilots, Firemen, and of course Astronauts.
Walking along I enjoyed looking at the show. As a transgender male to female I believed a big misnomer was what cross dressing was all about. It wasn’t about men wearing women’s clothing as much it was about being feminine by wearing the other gender’s attire.
I had no idea about others but for me it was as if I had this femininity within my heart that demanded expression. Walking along admiring the clothes and the so prefect images I was doing just that. Maybe I should’ve been scared about what was coming but hey, you find what you seek.
I’d always leaned towards red hair because I’m red headed. There was no desire to look the same as some movie star. I only wanted to see a feminine version of me when I looked into the mirror.
It surprised me when I stepped in front of this one and it lit up like a spotlight had hit it. Looking eye to eye with the kid sized image I found myself liking her. She had shoulder length dark brunette hair and a light tan compared to my red headed fairness. Her eyes however were just like mine. That green with amber flecks that some call hazel. I looked up at the adult and I also liked what I saw. She was well dressed, but I honestly couldn’t pick out a profession. With her tailored business suit she could be in any number of different careers; banker, business woman or a score of others.
Okay I thought to myself. That was it? What’s the big deal?
Then the lights went out.
For the second time today I was dazed and confused. Okay I was standing at the exit. In front of me was this Asian girl about my age. She had longish straight black hair that fell pass her shoulders. I thought she was rather cute. Then I saw her green eyes.
No way! It couldn’t be!
Slowly I raised a hand and so did she. Wondering I reached towards her hand and surprise, surprise, touched a mirror. How could this be possible here in the 70’s?
“Here is your case of appropriate clothes,” said a voice I recognized as Robert’s. He handed me a small suitcase.
He then fastened a button with the Career Day logo but with my name boldly on the front. “I’m sorry about this but usually you would’ve gotten an orientation session.”
I looked up at him still smiling. I couldn’t help myself.
Robert blinked startled by my smile. Sighing, he fished a book out of a box. “Here is a book with the same stuff that your orientation session would’ve covered. I marked out the chapter you need to look at. There is some other things too that you probably won’t understand. Ignore that stuff. We don’t normally pass these out so keep it to yourself.”
“But there is no way I’m going to just throw you in the deep end of the pool.” He said opening the door for me.
Snow was blowing in as I stepped down suitcase in hand. Slipping the book under my jacket, I turned facing him.
I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Quickly I hugged him and had the joy of seeing complete astonishment on his face. “Thank you!” I giggled as I hurried away.
The Headmaster met me as I rounded the corner, and I knew that he would take my happiness in exactly the wrong way. Calling on self-control that’ll shielded me from harm for almost 50 years I made my face blank.
“Ernie?” He asked.
“Yes sir,” I answered showing him my name button.
“Let’s get you out of this cold. Your parents should be here soon for you and your brother. I know this is going to be hard on you but hang tough son, Okay?” He told me.
Fighting back my desire to do somersaults and flips of happiness, I nodded in what I hope was in somber and respectful manner. The tickle of my much longer hair on my face and neck didn’t make that easy.
However, the irony didn’t escape me either. All my life I’d read sci-fi and fantasy books, hoping, praying that science would make changes like this possible. How did I finally find it? Time traveling back to where it all began.
Stepping into the warm lobby felt delicious. Most of the student body were excited and outside playing in the snow. Of course the National Guard guys were in the way of the harried parents rushing in to pick up their kids.
I was in no rush. There were two and half days more of this cold wet stuff coming down. Honestly, I simply wanted to explore the possibilities of this Asian girl I saw looking back at me in the mirror. First I went to the classroom to get my book bag.
However, my thoughts of sneaking into the girls bathroom afterwards got derailed. There in a corner unhappily huddled together were a group of ethnic kids each lugging a suitcase like mine. A glance at the gaudy Career Day name badges told the rest of the story. They were my classmates who were transformed just as I was.
A grain of anger slowly began to burn. I still had to read that book, but something suddenly came into focus. Whatever the justification of this ’program’ was simply BS. This whole damn thing was an attack on these children’s parents. How they’d physically transformed us into different racial/cultural minorities was one thing. Using it in this way was altogether different.
Kids knew all too well the costs of being different. Some used it against others in petty power games of cliques. Others were on the receiving end. All the oddballs, the nerds, geeks, and everyone who just didn’t fit in. So what did this program do? It turned the entire mess on its head.
Despite my happiness, I felt ill as well as mad. This had all the hallmarks of some stupid arrogant idiot trying to prove some pet theory. I didn’t want to think about how much and how many this thing had traumatized and hurt. Add their parent’s ignorance and intolerance into the mixture and I’m sure the trail of bodies was stacking up.
Stepping closer I picked out at least one other male to female gender change, the artist Hal. She was the same height as before but now Black. Unlike me she’d been crying.
Holding her was a girl who appeared Hindu. Glancing at her badge, it was Vonda.
“I think you were right,” I told her. “Most definitely snake.”
She blinked a little but was still preoccupied with Hal.
“You okay?” I asked Hal.
She shook her head making her afro wave about. “No. My dad is going to kill me!”
I gently touched her arm. “Will your Mom understand?”
The new girl hesitantly nodded, “But what can she do?”
This really sucked. I took a deep breath. “Be smart. If you’re really afraid of what he might do, first get her on your side. Show her the button with your name, and talk to her. Make her see that you’re still her child. Then stay out of your Dad’s way. If need be have your Mom bring your food to your room. Claim you’re sick with a cold or something.
“He knows about this, everyone does. You might be surprised, and have nothing to worry about. But you know your family better than I do.”
“This snow is going to be around awhile I think,” I said throwing my head at the blizzard outside the lobby’s window. “Think about where else you can go if you have to. A neighbor, friend, or anyplace safe, but don’t forget we don’t know how to deal with this kind of weather. You can die out there.”
“I’m not telling you to run away. I am saying be smart and be safe. Stay alive until Ms. Snake can change you back.”
Looking away from the frightened girl’s eyes, I saw I’d an audience. Some were staring at me in wide-eye shock while others nodded agreeing with me. One or two tried to see the name on my Button, not recognizing me at all.
Trying to keep situational awareness, I saw my younger brother, Adam looking for me. I had to smile. Oh he wasn’t going know me at all. In a way this was a good thing because anything really weird I did would be chalked up to this change.
Looking at my transformed classmates, I repeated, “Don’t start seeing trouble where there’s none, but don’t be blind either. Like I said, be smart and careful. We got it right between the eyes with this. The snow is going to keep most of us inside and unable to get around. It might stay around awhile keeping us like this for a couple days. Look how it’s coming down.”
Everyone looked outside.
“You’re sure taking this well,” Lawrence no longer the merry jokester snarked. He was now a hulking Black kid who didn’t look smart enough to tie his own shoes.
More than ever before, I was certain that someone was getting payback and revenge for past wrongs. Problem was none of us had done anything. Too damn young to have done so. This psycho was attacking everyone who they’d ever imagined as doing them a wrong. My guess was Ms. Witch had used the gizmo in the bus for her own makeover and then went looking for payback. However once again first things first.
“I’m already an outsider. Why should this change anything?” I pointed at myself. “Besides I know who I am. This didn’t alter that. If it had, I don’t think I would be able to even ask the question.” I explained.
The Headmaster appeared at the door with my Mom waving for me.
“Hey, gotta go! Remember, be smart.” I said leaving.
Vonda passed her friend Hal a tissue. She watched the slim girl meeting her family for the first time since this ‘change.’
Ernie always was weird. He often had trouble talking, but she knew from sitting near him that he always got good grades. Most everyone else left him along, since he was so clumsy. It didn’t help he was so small either. No one in their right mind wanted him on their team. It didn’t help he was so small either. He kept to himself drawing in his notebook margins or reading.
But this Oriental girl was something else. If Vonda hadn’t talked with him right before and after going though that thing she would’ve never believed it was the same person, despite what they were told about those buttons always showing the right name.
Before, it was like what you saw was different from what he was like. It reminded her of a term from her Piano lessons, discordant. That was it exactly. There was a sad dissonance about him. That was then. Now there wasn’t. This girl was so sharply focused it was scary by comparison.
Vonda thought she might’ve been trying to cover up this happiness that seemingly rolled off of her. Be that as it may, the advice she gave made sense. Although she wasn’t Black, she was so dark she might as well be. She knew her parents didn’t really care to associate with anyone other than other Whites.
Fortunately, Vonda’s parent’s had talked with her about this. No matter what she was turned into, they loved her. It wasn’t her fault, but someone else’s.
Hal had gotten the double-whammy of Black and a Girl. His Father was going to be so mad. If he’d only been made darker it probably would’ve been okay. But because of the time Hal had gotten caught in a dress playing with her, his Father threatened to really hurt him next time.
Vonda didn’t know how much Hal’s Mom could do. Her family could hear the fights over there all the time. In this case, Ernie’s ideas were really good.
“I think we should do what she said,” Vonda said. “Your Father will still be at work so we’ll have a chance to talk to your Mom. I have to talk to my parents too, but you spend a lot of time at my house anyways. With both of us being girls now they can’t object to us having a sleep over.”
Hal gave her a stare.
She sighed, “Okay they can say no, but I don’t think they will. With him working for electric company he’ll be very busy because of the snow. With you staying at my house you should be okay.”
Hal nodded, “I think Mom will cover for me. Dad just gets so mad sometimes she gets so afraid.”
She gave her friend a shove as the Headmaster waved for them to come. Vonda squeezed her friend’s hand. “It’ll be alright you’ll see.”
Adam beat me there next to her. However I saw both of their eyes pop open as they saw my name Button.
“Mrs. Younger, here is Ernie.” He sighed frustrated. “I tried to get the Feds to hold off, but they rushed them though fast. They didn’t have time for their orientations. I hope he doesn’t have any problems. You should have everything you need to know in that packet you were sent last week.”
“I know you want to get home so I’ll wish you a safe journey. Now excuse me but I have to reintroduce another parent to their child.” He then hurried off back into the cold mush.
I think I heard him mutter something about ‘Damn Feds’ but I could be wrong about that. Then again I’d never liked him much because he was a unrepentant racist. However his concern for the children under his care was genuine. Like the song in few years from now said, ‘Russians love their children too.’ Even bad guys had families they loved and cared about.
“Ernie is that you?” My Mom asked uncertain.
I smiled, “It’s me.” Touching my hair I said, “We have the same hair color now.”
Adam was still staring. “You’re a girl” he accused.
I nodded enjoying the feel of my hair swishing again. “Yes, I sure am.”
Taking my Mom’s hand I opened the door heading outside. I guess since most of the other White boys were turned into Blacks that was what she’d expected. An Asian girl wasn’t on that list.
My father was eager to get a move on before road conditions got any worse. His double take was priceless. Obviously he’d expected the same thing as my Mom.
“Hi Dad it’s me, Ernie.” I said taking a seat and buckling up.
I knew he was worried about the drive when he made certain everyone was seat-belted before we started moving. Thirty-six years ago we’d made the trip home without a problem. But, things were different now. We were later moving out because the National Guard and the Career Day bus had caused a mess. Additionally, my Dad had a bucket load of stress poured on him with my transformation.
Adam on the other hand wanted to play his old games of push, shove, and poke.
Knowing that Dad didn’t need any distractions, I tried the easy way first. “Please don’t do that Adam,” I asked politely.
I saw the glint in his eye. The little stinker was used to getting away with bedeviling me. He knew to a Tee how far he could go. If I retaliated I was automatically in the wrong, because of course he was the younger.
“Why not? Because you‘re girl?” He asked already planning his mischief.
I let my hair swirl around as I turned my head. Damn but don‘t I love how that feels. “We’re get to that later. No, the first reason is there’s a snow storm going on. We need to be quiet and not distract Dad from driving. The second reason is there’s a snow storm and if you look I’m sure you’ll find accidents all over the place. Third reason.
Adam interrupted sarcastically, “I know. There’s a snowstorm.”
“Nope grasshopper,” I corrected. “Third reason is I just turned into a girl. Do you want to find out if it’s catching and contagious?” I said holding out my hand.
Younger brother froze. That got his attention.
Meanwhile we were moving out of town slipping and sliding ever now and then. I was so glad I didn’t have to drive in this stuff. But being only 13 I’d a few years yet before I had to worry about that again. By that time I’m sure I would be chomping at the bit for the freedom.
As Adam considered if he wanted to risk girlhood, little brother Darryl, was peeking over the front seat at me. He was only three. I’m pretty sure he didn’t get it that this cute Asian girl was his red headed brother.
Shyly he ducked and hid as I winked at him.
Mom kept glancing back at me.
I honestly didn’t know how to handle this. My own feelings told me to behave as the girl I’d always wanted to be. But I had to convince her that I was really her little boy inside this girl.
My, wasn’t the irony heavy today. After 49 years of the girl being trapped in the man, now I had to make people believe there was a boy inside the girl. That was purely a short term goal. After they accepted that, then I could work on what to do next.
Sighing, I let my legs drift apart more like a boy usual sits. I settled on crossing my arms as being the safest thing to do with them. I could only hope my facial expression would work. It’d been a hell of a long time since I was 13.
Adam kept cutting me unsure looks, but he took my advice and rubbernecked at all the stuck and wrecked cars. Even 30 years in the future damn few around here knew how to drive in snow and ice. Fortunately for us, our father was one of them.
“Lil Ernie keep your legs together.” Mom finally broke down and corrected me.
“Why?” I asked hoping I’d figured out this script.
She replied, “Because girls don’t sit like that.”
I could see she was having problems processing all this. I was hoping she could make the next leap without help from me.
“As long as you’re a girl you’ll have to act like one. It just doesn’t look right you sitting like that.” She said.
I closed my legs together feeling a wave of relief. It didn’t feel right for me either, but for this to work I had to make intentional snafus.
“But Mom,” I whined. “I don’t know nothing about how girls sit and stuff.” I lied. “Will you show me?”
I saw love and compassion in her eyes. “Of course I will Ernie. Now be quiet so your father can concentrate on getting us home.”
All of us breathed a thankful sigh as our rocket ship station wagon crunched into the snow in front of our home. The cedars surrounding the green shingled house looked like something out of a Christmas card with snow covering them. By now there was a couple of inches of accumulation, which made going up the steps inside a little tricky. More so for me since I was dragging my book bag and that suitcase.
Adam was still giving me the evil eye, but he was still unwilling to risk losing his peter. That didn’t mean I couldn’t expect trouble. With that in mind I took that suitcase to our parent’s room hoping both brothers would stay out of it. That worry disappeared as both bundled up as fast as they could to go and play in the cold.
Finally that gave me the chance to examine me. I’d just taken off my shirt when Mom knocked on the bathroom door.
“Come on out. I know what you’re doing. I need to see too,” she ordered.
'Damn it.' I grumbled to myself. “Okay, I’ll be out in a second,” I called, putting my shirt back on.
My parents cranked up the heater while getting themselves some coffee. I saw they were keeping an eye on my two brothers outside making snowmen, but were looking at me too.
I sat down, remembering to not act feminine. Strange it felt so natural to simply let myself finally relax and be me.
Mom corrected me again. “Legs together Lil Ernie, and don’t slouch.”
My Dad, still simmering, asked, “What was it like?”
Listening to my interrogation, she put on some hot coco.
I nodded, sitting right. “There was really nothing much to it. I walked inside and stood in this circle. Then they told me to walk down this hallway with all these pictures of women until I saw one light up.”
Now I knew my Dad was mad, but not at me. I don’t think most people would even pick up on it. He’s one of those sorts that gets cold if you know what I mean. However I needed him to know I was still me too.
“So you stopped at the Chinese picture?” He guessed.
I shook my head. “No sir. She wasn’t Chinese. She kinda looked like Mom. Maybe a little taller with longer hair. It was like a light hit that one. Then I stopped. She was dressed really well and sharp, but not in the pilots, firemen, and other uniforms most of the rest were in.
“Then the lights went out and I was at the exit. I didn’t know anything had happened until I looked in the mirror.”
“This guy gave me that suitcase, and said they didn’t have time for orientation because of the snow.” I said not mentioning the book Robert had given me.
Dad was not happy. “That was it? They threw you off the bus and that was that?”
“Yes sir.” I answered. “The Headmaster took me inside and I got my bag. I found some of my classmates. One of them got changed into a girl too, but she’s Black now. It was hard to tell because nobody looked the same. One of girls who sits near me, is really dark now, like she’s from India.”
Mom handed me a mug of coco. Sipping it, I saw him thinking.
Dad said, “Maybe we can make this up to you in the summer. For family vacation, we’re thinking about going back to Disney World, what do you think?”
I had to keep from grinning. He’s trying to trip me up. Every year we farmed enough so there was money for about one week in Florida. Budget conscious, my father’s Scottish blood knew how to pinch a penny. However we all still had a good time. But we’d never ever been to Disney World as a family. In my old time line I would finally make it there in about nine years.
“That would be great, but we’ve never been there before. It’s expensive too. How about Weeki Wachee? We didn’t get to go last year.” I answered.
Cagey old man making sure I was still fruit of his loins so to speak. Besides the attraction I wanted to see at Disney World didn’t exist yet. Science geek that I was, Epcot was 10 years away. As for Weeki Wachee, who had a problem watching beautiful girls swim around in mermaid costumes? Not me!
His suspicions at least temporarily set at ease, he said, “We’ll see. That government voucher we got because of this is going to help. But you might need new clothes now and that’ll take a bite out of that hush money. We didn’t think you would need any, but that was what it was supposedly for.
He looked at Mom using his pet name for her, “Ray, I think it’s warm enough now. Why don’t you and Ernie see what’s in that suitcase? We’ll have a better idea what he … she’ll need.” He said stumbling over the pronouns.
I stood and hugged him. “Okay Dad.”
Uncomfortable, he hesitantly returned it.
I wasn’t offended. He might’ve intellectually accepted I was the same Ernie he’d waken up this morning inside, but I still looked liked an extra from that TV series Kung Fu.
Mom tarried behind. I overheard them talking.
She spoke first. “I think that’s our son.”
Dad agreed. “I think so too, but every time she opens her mouth I expect to hear an accent. It’s cotton pickin’ strange to hear her speak with his voice.
Mom added. “Her voice is a little higher and sweeter, but the way she speaks is the same. Not to mention, her knowing about our vacation last year.”
I heard Dad’s voice get cold again. “I wish I had those Sonabitches in my sights. They have no right to do this to my child.
Mom said, “Ernie does seem to be taking this pretty well. I saw some others who wasn’t. He’s always been a quiet child with his problems and all.”
“I think everything will be alright until she gets changed back.” Mom finished.
Dad half prayed, “I hope so.”
Quickly I stepped away so I wouldn’t get caught eavesdropping. As soon as she shut the door I started undressing. Mom’s vanity had a big mirror so I could see what I looked like now.
I didn’t look anything like I did before. No sign of my Dad's Scottish ancestry was visible. My reflection was of a slim Asian girl perhaps in the first stages of puberty I was guessing from the slightly enlarged nipples. There were maybe the beginnings of pubic hair too.
The epicanthic fold, Asian complexion and straight black hair made my green gold flecked eyes ‘pop’ even more. No wonder I’d been getting some stares.
My parents called my appearance Chinese but I knew that was their ignorance speaking. I didn’t know enough to place my new racial background with any confidence. My time in Korea while serving in the Army taught that there was a lot of variance between the different nationalities. Asia was a big place. I could only guess East Asia which includes better than half the people on the planet.
I could see she was uncomfortable with this, but so was I! This was Mom watching me.
For her benefit I did lightly touch my genitals, “It’s gone.”
She blushed looking away. “Don’t touch yourself there. You’ll have to sit down to pee now and you’ll have to wipe afterwards.”
My touch did tell me that, yes, there was hair down there. I thought about pulling her chain about the touching thing. How was I supposed to wipe if I couldn’t touch, but decided to let it drop. My folks were products of their upbringing. Not exactly prudes, but they had some strange ideas just the same.
I decided to just nod.
That bought me up to the next thing. I’d gashed the inside of my right pinky finger on my Mom’s 27th birthday. Pulling the finger back, there it was a triangular scar.
“Hey Mom, it’s still there.” I said showing her the one bit of proof I was still me.
She nodded, opening that suitcase.
Curious, I wanted to know what was inside too.
Opening a plastic package, she tossed me a small bundle. “Put these on.”
Catching it, they were panties. I turned them this way and that buying some time to figure out how to handle this. Nothing special here. Just a pair of white cotton girl’s underwear. Should I freak out a little or just accept?
I went with the middle road. “Mom where’s the front?” I asked thinking that a reasonable question. Boy’s briefs had that handy “Y” to help you tell front and back.
She didn’t look up. “Find the label. That’s the back. Get back dressed.”
I shrugged. Picking up my jeans, they were cut a little different from when I put them on this morning. The T-shirt was as well. The Tee was softer and fit snugger than before. A good thing considering my more sensitive nipples that’d crinkled up in the cool room. The only things that didn’t change was my briefs, socks, shoes and sweater. However I was transformed, it’d affected my clothes too. Like Alice said, “Curiouser and curiouser.”
Finally I got a chance to see inside that suitcase; A couple of packs of panties, a hairbrush, at least two training bras, a nightgown, a couple of shirts and lastly a box of sanitary napkins. Well it was a small case.
“Turn around Ernie,” my Mom directed.
Now facing the mirror, I saw a problem without my sweater I was making ‘points’ in my Tee.
Looking back at her, I saw she’d pulled one of the bras. I could see her wondering how she was going to get a bra on a teenage boy. Good question, okay how do I do this?
I stared at the bra and asked, “It’s because of these isn’t it?” I pulled at my shirt making my nipples dimple the soft material. I winced a little as the sensitive things rubbed against it.
For the first time today I saw her smile. “You won’t do that again will you? But yes, because of those.”
Mom turned the cups inside out to show me. “The insides are padded. They’ll help with those and help hide them.”
I made a show of defeat. Sighing I took off my tee again. This time careful about that rubbing thing.
It took a bit of lifting and adjusting straps but we got it on me.
Looking in the mirror my breath caught in my chest. Standing next to my Mom dressed as a girl here in this place caused feelings to well up inside me. My eyes stung as the first tear formed.
I was a girl.
Trying to hide my crying I put on my shirt. Unable to stop the happiness flooding out of me I hugged her fiercely. The last time I’d seen her in my old timeline she was so old and bent by time. Strokes, cancer and hardships had taken their toll. Somehow I would keep this from happening to this woman, my Mother. I loved my Mom.
“Are you crying?” She asked her voice full of concern.
I’d learned the hard way that some things couldn’t be denied. “A little.”
“Is it because you was changed?” She softly caressed my hair.
Forcing myself not to breakup, I replied, “Unh, unh, this girl thing ain’t that bad. I’m crying because I’m home with you and Dad.”
I looked up at her. “I’m happy! I guess it’s a girl thing. I love you Mom,” I said as more tears poured.
“I love you too, my Angel,” she whispered into my ear.
Then we were hugging again. I must’ve confused her. Then again I’d been bewildered since I’d woke up this morning in a time and place I thought I would never see again. Only fair it was someone else’s turn.
“Let’s get both of us cleaned up. Your father just wouldn’t understand.” She smiled a little as she wiped both of our tears. “Let’s get some lunch. Your brothers should be ready to come in now.”
I nodded sniffling a little. “I’ll help.”
Happier than I could ever remember we went to fix lunch.
As expected both brothers were near frozen but still had to be dragged unwillingly inside to eat. I don’t think they even noticed what it was they were eating in their eagerness to get back to their snow fortress or whatever they were building.
For me, I had a lot on my mind. I did decide to go with the Purloined Letter approach for hiding my notes. By slipping loose leaf notebook paper inside my spiral books already filled with notes, hopefully my thoughts will be safe. Just to be sure, I might start a diary too. It is a girl thing after all and should be a nice red herring. Knowing my brothers I would need all the help I could get from the two nosey brats.
I bundled up but didn’t go outside. My goal was the unheated living room. Cold, yes but it had this wonderful window seat just perfect for thinking. Adjusting a makeshift cushion from a blanket, I rubbed the polished wood.
Thirty-six years from now in my timeline this was all gone. Burned and looted by unscrupulous neighbors there’d been nothing of value left when I’d last visited.
Another tear ran down my cheek. I was well aware of the priceless gifts I’d been given. This return to the home of my childhood memories was wonderful and yet bittersweet. I knew what the future held for us. I might or might not be able to change them for the better. I could very well make things worse.
Let’s not forget this crazy history shift here. Anti-gravity with real honest to Gawd Von Braun Spaceships. How that lead to the machine in that Career Day Bus that transformed the racial backgrounds of my entire six grade class I’m clueless.
Even my clothes were altered although we all stayed about the same height. I’d no idea of how complete this change was. Did it go all the way to the genetic level or only cosmetic?
The only two methods that came to mind could easily do either. Nano-tech nanties could rebuild just about anything from the molecule up. The problem I had was how fast it happened. There was no pain, discomfort, or even awareness of time passing. One moment I’m a red headed skinny white boy and the next a cute Asian chick. It would take a very advanced technology to do that.
It could also be matter transmutation, the yea old Star Trek transporter. Turn your subject into energy and simply rearrange things the way you want before reintegrating them back into solid matter. That would take some really super advanced tech shit to pull off.
Which brings up for either to work you have blueprints and a damn good idea of how the entire human package was put together. Something 1973 completely lacked. Hell the mapping the human genome wasn’t even a twinkle in it originators’ eyes yet.
And speaking of twinkles, the programming would be a solid gold bitch. Aside from the Oh My Gawd pure numbers crunching both approaches would demand, writing the code for any of it would take real genius.
Steve, the Woz, Wozniak, Bill Gates and others that would jump start the computer age were still in school or college right now. There just wasn’t the talent right here and now in 1973 to do it.
But it was possible because I was staring at my almond shaped green eyes‘ reflection. The snow was deep enough now that drifts were starting to form. I shivered thinking back in time. As a boy I’d been out there with my brothers just as snow mad taking advantage of this singular unique event.
If the ability to do this wasn’t here then it had to come from somewhere else. Baring the discovery of the lost secrets of Atlantis, it had to come from out there, beyond the stars.
Perhaps our discovery of Anti-Gravity had tripped some kind of Star Trek like finding Warp Drive trigger. The Vulcans, Vorlons, Asgards, or whoever suddenly appeared with the red carpet welcoming Mankind into the Galactic Federation of Peace, Love and Galactic tranquility, Not!
I’d seen no footprints of a major event like that. I would have to dig into my history book to be sure, but I was fairly confident that scenario didn’t happen. That left finding a wreck or some other remains of alien technology.
Mulling it over, that seemed to fit what I was seeing so far. Perhaps not completely understood, but they were able to use, maybe even duplicated it. Okay, I could buy that.
In a strange way it made me feel better. As a Sci-fi fan boy, hmmm, girl, I’d read tons of time travel and alternate reality stories. One of my reservations about changing history were the consequences. All the lives I’d touched in the last 36 years would be without my influences. Maybe I flatter myself, but I like to think I’d made some positive differences over the last three or so decades.
However this world’s alternate history had already changed that reality. I could see the differences of a higher standard of living that let my parents provide better heating and improve maintenance of our home. Remembering my teeth from this morning, improved health care too.
As time passed, there would be many more changes making whatever I’d did in my old timeline immaterial. Besides, since this was in another timeline all the lives I’d touched was still there. It was me who was somewhen/where else.
Looking back into my almond eyes, I had some big decisions to make. I was girl of an ethnic minority. Additionally, evidence said this was only temporary. It was also suggested that, to be changed back, I needed to be run though the Career Bus’s machine again. If I didn’t I would remain like this. The million dollar question was did I want to?
Yeah, I was transgendered, but that didn’t automatically mean I was a woman trapped in a man’s body. I humorously describe myself as having too much Yin in my Yang. I was male but with a very strong feminine side.
That side needed, demanded, expression. In my younger days playing female characters in Dungeon’s and Dragons sufficed. Later on I moved into playing computer games, but that wasn’t nearly as satisfying. Like others I also crossed-dressed sometimes. That was harder to cover up much less explain if I’d gotten caught. Not to mention the danger since gay-bashers loved catching girls like me and making an example of us.
I’d taken the COGIATI gender identity test and had ended up right in the middle as androgynous. However many of the questions involved hearing and communications skills. Factoring in my hearing loss as well as my learning disabilities I could only guesstimate that I was really probably closer to the feminine side of the scale. What I did know for certain I wasn't a transsexual. I didn’t hate my genital nor had I ever tried self surgery to rid me of them.
In the movie ‘League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” Dorian Grey was asked, “What are you?” He replied, “I’m complicated.” That’s me!
I couldn’t deny my happiness from the very moment of finding myself transformed. Even barely into puberty as I was now, never before had I appeared so feminine. I couldn’t deny how that made me feel. The question was if I be able to cope with the gender change and all it entailed. I did not miss the significance of that box of sanitary napkins included in that suitcase. Periods, possible pregnancy, and all the biological processes that was part of being a woman. Plus, the social problems of being woman in a man’s world wasn’t inconsequential either.
Under the blanket, I softly touched my stomach and groin wondering just how I felt. I wasn’t playing with myself. It was trying to use my sense of touch to make it, I don’t know, real?
A noise made me stop. There looking at me was Mom.
“How are you doing dear? Aren’t you cold in here?” She asked.
Smiling I said, “It’s warmer in here than outside with Adam and Darryl. As for how I‘m doing, I guess okay. I‘m trying to figure out how I feel about this.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Those two! We had to practically drag them inside. I swear they were half-frozen. They’re thawing out in front of the heater right now.”
I playfully rolled my own eyes, “At least Darryl kept his clothes on this time.” I said making light of how during the summer he stripped his clothes off within minutes of going outside. It’s really kind of funny watching Mom chase my streaking little brother around the yard, Boogity, Boogity there he goes!
She came next to me. Putting my notebook away, I made a spot for her to sit.
For a few quiet peaceful moments we watched the snow fall.
I guess she was waiting for me, but I didn’t know how much I could risk saying. Obviously the truth of coming back 36 years into my own past wouldn’t work, not even adding in I was from an alternate world. Under no circumstances I didn’t want my parents to start to doubt I wasn’t their child.
The problem was she was my Mom. I wanted to tell her. While growing up, she was often the only person I could talk to. Not for the first time I reflected, life really, really sucked sometimes.
Let’s try part of the truth. “Mom have you ever had times when you thought something would brother you but it doesn’t?”
She smiled. “Yes I have. Sometimes you’ll find you’re stronger than you think. What you thought would be hard, turns out not to be after all. Is that what you mean Ernie?”
Oh boy, this was going to be hard. “Kinda Mom. Being like this doesn’t bother me. I think it bothers me more that it doesn’t bother me.”
Then I realized I truly wanted to stay like this. Part of me must’ve already known my decision. The first time around I tried to live as a man. That hadn’t worked out so hot. This second life I would live as a woman.
Mom hugged me. “Honey, it’s only been a few hours. Don’t you think it’s a little early to know yet?”
Keeping my revelation to myself, I answered, “I guess. Some of my class sure seem to know right off. Hal, the other boy who was changed like me sure didn’t like it. She, I mean he was crying.”
She stroked my hair like she’d done before in the bedroom. I could get used to this, laying my head against her. As a boy I was too old to do this but as a girl it was fine. Now that I’d made my decision a kind of peace filled me.
Wondering if I was pushing this too far too soon, but I needed feel her out on this. “Mom is it okay to like this? I don’t mean being a Chinese girl but just a girl?”
She sighed. “Most boys wouldn’t, but you’re not like most boys are you?”
I looked up at her and said from my heart, “No Mom. I’ve never been like everyone else. I’m the one and only. Ain’t never been but one of me. The world couldn’t take two!”
Laughing, she hugged me again, “I suppose we should be glad there’s only one.”
Getting up Mom pulled me from my cozy nest of blankets. “Come on. We’re going to take Darryl’s bed apart and move you into the nursery on a cot. He’ll sleep in your bed until you get changed back.”
Putting on my most innocent expression I asked, “Does that mean if I stay this way I get my own room?”
Startled she looked back at me, but smiled as she saw my hopeful puppy eyes. “Oh you! Now come on. You won’t feel the same when you see how small it really is, but you’ll have some privacy till this is over.”
I guess she saw something in eyes when she said that last. Mom did know me after all. “When we finish moving the bed, I’ll introduce you what that box in your suitcase is for. There’s lots to being girl that’s very not nice.”
Taking her hand, I just smiled. I knew about the abuse she’d received when she’d been about my age. I’d learned the hard way that there are times when you shouldn’t say a thing. This was one of them.
Shaking her head at me, but smiling, we went to start work.
Hours later we finally finished. Doing my damnedest not to let her know it, that frakking pad was uncomfortable as shit. It felt like I had a damn mattress between my legs. Of course she’d stacked the deck knowing all the moving about I would be doing helping get what she thought as my temporary room ready. I was bound and determined to prove her and my Dad wrong on that particular point.
What Mom was right about was about the space. With only a bed there was very little room. I however had a solution. After living hand to mouth in some just as small places, I’d become adept at making the most of what I had. Necessity is a great motivator.
Adam and my beds were bunk beds but after much fighting we decided it was better for them to be use simply as normal beds. I intended on suggesting a small platform be built turning my bed into a loft or captain’s style. Although, drawers were far beyond me, I was sure with Daddy’s help I could make a simple desk top and shelves.
All that would take would be careful measuring and cutting that I’m sure he wouldn’t let me do. However he’d built this house as well as the additions all himself. I was pretty sure if I came up with a set of clear plans he would help. Particular if I kept working on my sad puppy eyes. Judging from my experience with Mom my technique needed refining.
I bounced on the cot, but I had a room of my own! For my plans to record all I could remember of my own future as well as keep my journals secret I had to have some privacy. I certainly wouldn’t get any with Adam right next to me. Oh the stories I could tell of that sneaky little, but that was in another time and place.
Looking out the window, it was still snowing. Evening was on the way and looked even later because of the heavy clouds. That made me decide on what I should write down first. Every natural disaster I could remember. Other events might change, but not volcanoes, earthquakes or tsunamis. I got out my notebook to start. Mid January 2010 major earthquake in Haiti. Searching my memory, I couldn’t remember the exact date, but there was another one in Chile about a month later in February.
I sighed. With my damn bad memory for dates this wasn’t going to be easy. I got back to work. This was important and could save lives. Okay what’s next. How about that Boxing Day Tsunami of 2004? This was going to take a while.
To be continued Part 1 of 3
Where our Heroine rediscovers the joys of snowball fights, and gets done up in pigtails and ribbons.
The next morning, I peeked out of my blankets. Carefully touching my revised plumbing and almost painfully sensitive beasts, I breathed out relived. It hadn’t been a dream. I was still in this alternate past transformed into an Asian girl.
A rather annoyed, “Meow!” under my covers made me giggle. Shaking herself, the cat sniffed at the cold air before deciding she would stay where it was cozy a while longer.
Last night I’d berated myself for forgetting, of all things, our pets. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself considering the train wreck like series of shocks I’d gotten yesterday, but still you know it’d been really cold last night.
All my family’s pets worked for their living just like on any farm. Living out in the country meant our house was surrounded by farm fields. Looking at it from afar, it was like an oasis of trees surrounding our house in a sea of whatever was being planted that year. That also meant we were under siege by armies of field rats, snakes and other vermin. Our dog, part Collie, and Shepard mix, Lady was the general in charge of Home defense. She took care of any threats bold enough to challenge our perimeter. Our next line of defense was a good offense. Fearlessly patrolling deep into enemy territory like Special Forces and recon teams were our cats.
Like all outside cats, sometimes they leave and don’t come back. They’re cute, furry, and huggable, but they’re also predators. It’s a dangerous world out there for any hunter. Their numbers varied as kittens were born and they came and went. We gave away legions, but sometimes we found a new boarder had taken up residence. That was Smoky.
She simply appeared one day at feeding time. I suspected she was someone’s runaway because of her so soft fur. It was bluish black, but when you looked underneath it was a silver gray. That was how she got her name. She was so soft it was like touching smoke. You could feel the warmth under your fingers and yet it was nearly insubstantially soft.
We did have a protected room for our pets, heated by the same high wattage light bulbs used for incubating eggs for weather like this. Even by the standards of animal care in 2010 it was probably enough, but if I couldn’t bring in all of them. I could sneak in Smoky.
From her contented rumbling, I didn’t think she was complaining. On the other hand, I had to get her back outside without being caught. It being a Saturday, Mom and Dad was sleeping in, but from the sound, my brothers were up. Saturday cartoons were too much for them to resist even with all the snow still falling outside.
Dressing, I hid Smoky under my jacket. Doing my best to stay quiet, I tip-toed though my parents room first to the bathroom. Okay maybe girls’ bladders are smaller because I really had to go. I didn’t flush because I didn’t want to alert the terrible twosome. Peeking outside, I made my break for the door.
I expected a problem getting the screen door open since it opened out. The snow had drifted blocking the door, but not as bad as I feared. A sharp shove and I was outside!
Smoky, “Meowed” sticking her blue gray head out of the top of my jacket to see. I found my breath taken away not just by the cold, but by the beauty of the sight and the memories it invoked. Sensibly, she decided it was better to stay where it was warm.
Softy running my finger over her fur, I felt the chilly tracks of tears running down my face. Snowing all night, the accumulation had to be nearly a foot, but it would grow to about another foot before it was all over. Taking a deep breath I tried to take it all in so I would never ever forget this moment.
Even if I’d found a Genie’s Lamp or some other plot device from Transgender Fiction could all of my dreams be so fulfilled. Not perfectly since all I wanted was to be a more feminine me. This whole Asian girl thing was never part of any wish fulfillment of mine. However, the time I’d spent with my Mom had more than made up for that small detail.
I sighed my breath frosting before me. As wonderful as this was, it was also temporary. If I wanted to keep this, I would have to work for it. Reaching for the shovel, I began clearing the porch and steps.
Way back when in the Thirties when Daddy first built this house it’d been smaller. It’d lacked indoor plumbing among other things. The outhouse still sat a distance away a snow covered mound. As time passed he’d added on a bathroom, and the small room I now called mine. Most recently, when he married my Mom she insisted on having an electric washer. He’d expanded the back porch tacking on an outside washer room.
That room became multipurpose sheltering our pets as well as a makeshift greenhouse at times. As I cleared the snow away Lady, our Collie Sheppard mix stuck her nose out to see what was up.
Ready for a break, I found a small thirteen year old girl had nowhere near the muscles or stamina of even a worn out overweight 49 year old male. Resting on the shovel, Lady greeted me with a wet doggie kiss slobbering all over me. To my surprise my Career Day transformation didn’t faze her at all. Some of our platoon of cats were a little hesitant, but then again Smokey hadn’t doubted who I was for an instant either. Like Star Trek TNG Data’s Spot, Smoky was a one person cat.
Tail wagging, Lady gave the rest of the felines just beginning to nose about a disdainful eye. I smiled remembering finding them all, dog and cats alike cuddled together even though it wasn’t that cold. I could almost hear her asking, ‘So where’s breakfast?’
That reminded me I was hungry too. While I was bound and determined not to end up fat, this body, transformed or not was used to pigging out. Just like the way to stop smoking was not to start, the best way to lose weight was not to get fat to begin with. On the other hand I didn’t want to got the other way into anorexia. Hopefully feeling better about who I was would help besides knowing the consequences of having been at over a hundred pounds overweight.
Smoky peered out again disturbed by my shoveling and add her own voice to the gathering chorus wanting breakfast. “Meow!”
While I could begin cooking, there was much I didn’t remember about how much Dad usually fixed or other details that could cause problems. From helping with lunch and supper last night I saw that they must’ve just come back from picking up the weekly groceries when they got called about the ‘snowday’.
We did however live frugally and me wasting food would be, however good my intentions, frowned on. I was trying to build goodwill not cause problems. The solution for that was me to watch carefully this morning and cook breakfast for the family tomorrow morning.
With that decided I got back to work. This was good because I was learning my physical limitations, but it was awkward relearning how to move my remodeled bod.
Finally finished I did a bit of ‘touching up’ of the exposed areas that already was covered back up in white again. “There,” I announced to my audience of dog and cats. “What do you think?”
Unimpressed they were a tough sell. I however wasn’t above a little bribery, doling out a bit of dog food we used to supplement their diet. Mostly they ate our leftovers. This family wasted nothing if it could help it.
Smoky decided that food was worthy enough cause to leave the warmth of my jacket. Leaping down she asserted her place in the pecking order at the food dish.
Shaking off the cold and snow, I went back inside. Immediately, I was confronted by Adam.
“What were you doing out there, girl?” He interrogated sneering as if that was the worst possible thing he could think of.
Knowing Adam it probably was. He was after all only 10 and still in that girls had cooties stage. He’d grown up the stereotypical redneck male and proud of it. The last time I’d seen him in my old world, he’d been doing the Civil War reenactment thing and proud of it for goodness sakes.
However the one standing in front of me right now was still only ten years old.
“I was cleaning off the porch and steps,” I replied.
He got this glint in his eyes. “Have you done both the front and back?” He asked more like a demand than a question.
I gave him an annoyed glance. “No I did not! I did the back porch so I could get to the washroom to check on Lady and the cats. It is snowing after all. They’re fine by the way. I gave them a little food since it’s so cold and icy out.”
Adam puffed up. “Now you need to go do the front. You’re girl now so you have to clean up after us men.”
I looked down my nose at him. “Oh really?” I replied dryly. “And what if I don’t?” I asked looking down at him. I might be the smallest kid in my sixth grade class but I was still taller than any of the fourth graders.
He put his hands on his hips trying to sound tough. “I have to beat you up.”
My new ears heard movement from inside our parents bedroom. Adam was so busy posturing he didn’t hear a blessed thing. However as tempting as it was to let him dig his own grave, I really needed to gain if not his respect or even fear, a mutual understanding.
I crossed my arms giving my brother a cold stare. “What’s makes you think you could do that now when you couldn’t come close before?”
He leaned forward and said, “You’re a girl. I’m a boy. Boys beat up girls.” He said ‘girl’ again like it was the most horrible thing he could imagine.
Not able to help myself, I giggled. “You say that like that’s a bad thing. I have no idea of who you’ve been hanging with but I know you didn’t get that from Mom and Dad. But first let me tell you why you’ll lose any fight with me. First size matters and I’m still bigger than you are. Second, you’ve forgotten all about me being contagious as well as the cooties.”
Listening hard I was guessing that it was Dad right outside the door. Younger brother however kept digging his hole deeper. “Size doesn’t matter because boys are stronger and tougher. You’re not contagious, I asked Dad last night and I don’t think you’ve been a girl long enough to get the cooties.”
I had to keep from rolling on the floor. Because we’re surrounded by farm fields, we’d been corp dusted so many times it was silly. This was the age of DDT, cooties otherwise known as lice and just about any other bug, but never had a chance anywhere near our house. Fortunately, none of us had any health problems that could be trace to that. Although Dad’s death and Mom’s breast cancer as well as my own Transgender condition did make me wonder from time to time.
“There is one other thing you’ve overlooked young grasshopper.” I told him playing my hole card.
Still bowed up and confrontational, he replied, “What’s that?”
I turned letting him see my profile. “I’m Chinese now. Everyone knows the Chinese all know Kung Fu.”
He blinked caught unawares. We both watched that show with David Carradine. It was really our first exposure to the martial arts. I didn’t count the professional wrestling on TV on Saturday afternoons. Needless to say I’d seen him awkwardly spinning around and kicking in the backyard afterwards.
Not having a good answer for that one Adam backed off.
Dad apparently had heard enough. Coming out the bedroom suddenly, he caught my younger brother by surprise. “Have you gotten the porches and steps cleared off yet? If we’re going hunting for rabbits, we’ll need to get a start right after breakfast.”
I giggled again understanding what he was trying to pull now. History was already changing. In my original timeline, it’d been me that’d gone hunting. We didn’t find anything fortunately for the little furry critters, but it’d helped define how I thought about hunting. I’d much rather pet than eat them.
Before Adam could take credit for what I’d done, I said, “I fed Lady and the cats a little pet food since it was so cold. I had to shovel some to get to the door.”
Dad’s face was as still as stone but I saw a smile in his eyes. “Well that only leaves the front for you to do Adam. You should thank Ernie for doing some of your work for you.”
Adam was blushing at being caught, but muttered something that could possibly might be thanks.
I however choking back more giggles, smiled sweetly. “You’re welcome Adam. I left the shovel by the washer room.”
Dad and I watched him go outside.
“If he does start fighting with you, tell us,” Dad told me. I knew it wasn’t a suggestion.
“I don’t know where he got those ideas about how to treat girls and women, but that stops right here.” I heard the steel in his tone. “But you shouldn’t tease him like that though,” he said shaking his head to keep from laughing.
“Okay, Daddy,” I replied.
He looked at me since I hadn’t called him that in a while, but let it pass. “See that you do,” He said starting breakfast.
I sat next to Darryl who was intently watching the ’The Superfriends’ on TV. Taking out pen and paper I made quick notes on what I need to know to surprise my parents tomorrow morning. I paid close attention to those things I knew was tricky, like for instance just how much water to add to the grits to give the consistency Dad liked. Most of the rest was looking ahead at the possible problems I would have being smaller now and cook.
Mom with her usual timing got up just in time for Dad to start serving. She certainly had him trained well, I grinned to myself. Putting my notes safely in my pocket I evaluated the possibility of giving them breakfast in bed.
Adam came in breathless and tracking snow though the house.
Mom glared at him, and I knew he was a heartbeat away from trouble.
I decided to butt in saying, “It’s okay Mom. I’ll mop it up if Adam will clean up from breakfast.” Not giving anyone a chance to say anything else I jumped up going for the mop. While everyone else was seating I did a real fast job of damp mopping.
Running back to the table in time for the Blessing, I got back up finishing and put the mop away.
The whole time I felt Adam’s eyes on me. He really had no idea how to behave around girls. I had to keep from ruefully shaking my head. Truthfully, I didn’t either. I’d spent my entire life stumbling along with the few relationships that I’d managed ending in disaster and ruin. It wasn’t till I began seriously trying to come to terms with my feminine nature that I’d started to heal the years of hurt I’d done to myself denying my true nature.
Slipping into my chair I heard my stomach rumble. Looking down at my plate full of food, I divided it out again. This time I noticed Adam and Darryl eying my leftovers. “Darryl you want a piece of my bacon?” I asked offering him the choicest part.
At his nod and grin, I passed it over ignoring Adam’s scowl. Then I asked brother dear, “Do you want the rest?”
He really want to say no, but greed will get them every time. “Yeah,” Adam grunted.
Darryl happily gave me a ’thank you’ around a mouthful of food despite Mom’s warning not to talk with his mouth full. He grinned a three year old’s respect to authority.
Adam hunched over his food much like one of our cat’s jealously guarding its share. Mom and Dad had stormy expressions as they waited to see if he remembered his manners. Predictably he didn’t.
Like I said my parent’s are old fashioned believing in manners. We might be poor, but never ever trashy. One of the keys to that was discipline as my brother was about to find out.
Adam tell your bro… err Lil Ernie thank you.” Dad commanded.
Younger bother looked up unhappily. Recognizing that he’d crossed over a line he really shouldn’t have said. “Thank you Lee.”
Mom and Dad stared at him for using my middle name. Adam had yet to realize just how much baiting his big brother game had changed.
I however, rather liked it. Lee was androgynous enough to pass as male or female. However something else that’d always bothered me was being a junior. Thirty-seven years ago, being Lil Ernie was ‘annoying.’ Now let’s not even go there.
Before the situation got worse for Adam, I spoke up. “I like that, Lee. What do you think Mom? Can I go by my middle name for as long as I’m like this? It fits better than Ernie,” I said intentionally leaving off the Lil prefix.
Mom and Dad exchanged one of those silent communications things parents do so often.
I wondered if I dared say anything else. It’s possible I’d already dropped too hints and clues as to what I really wanted. Preparing the ground is one thing, but it’s easy to over do it too. In theory they should come to realize what I wanted by themselves with as little help from me as necessary. However, when you wanted something really bad, restraint is hard. So I bite my lip and said nothing.
Using their parent’s telepathy, Dad had apparently given Mom carte blanche for this one.
“I think that is a good idea Lee,” she said. “This Career Day thing is suppose to be a learning experience. Let's do that.” Mom sipped her coffee.
“You’ll get to know everything about the other half lives, and your brothers will learn how to act properly around girls. I can see you all need to work on your manners.”
She then glared at Adam. “As for you young man. You know better. If I don’t see a change in your attitude, in a few years when it’s your turn to got though this thing, I’ll make a special request. Do I make myself clear?”
Poor younger Bro turned nearly white.
“Yes ma’ams,” echoed around the kitchen table.
The rest of breakfast was much subdued, but I’d gotten my answer. Yes, I’d gone a mite too far.
Adam was most unhappy about helping clean up from breakfast and doing dishes. Even little Darryl who grew up to be quite a hell raiser in his own right kept quiet.
I decided since I’d already started cleaning floors to finish the job. With so much of the house unheated, I settled for sweeping and touching up with a damp mop. That did take care of the drips Adam left behind that I’d missed before breakfast. It also let me attack some of the clutter. Taking care of that let me secure what stuff I recognized as mine from the mischief of my two recently chastised brothers.
Dancing with broom and mop continued the lesson I’d started with the shovel this morning. I was learning how my much younger transformed body moved now. Despite my hope it wouldn’t happen, I was guessing Adam would force a show down. Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance. I meant to be ready. This was my first step. The next needed me to find something to work out in.
That was going to be a problem. I really doubted I would be able to find any kind of pants that would work. My regular jeans wouldn’t let me really push the limits of how flexible I was. The poor thing again, I didn’t have anything else other than jeans and a pair of ‘Going to meetin’ pants. It was either shorts or hope there was pair of sweat pants hidden in the bottom of that suitcase.
Mom had kept an eye on me as I cleaned. That was a good thing. Since finding a daughter she’d been much more ‘engaged’ with the world. Usually she retreated into herself letting Dad deal with running the family and handling us boys.
From my worldly prospective, I could see she suffered from major depression and perhaps anxiety disorder as well. She’d also attempted suicide several times. I blame her childhood abuse. I might not be a doctor but having suffered from anxiety and depression myself, it was a good guess.
I’d no idea if the gee-whiz process that made me look like Bruce Lee’s little sister could help her. The Career Day machine did pickup on my feminine and adult neural patterns. That was a hopeful sign since effective antidepressants were still years away.
This did make me think. For years one of the linchpins of my denial was my childhood. The conditions and situation let me rationalize that it was better that I hadn’t been born a girl. Being poor in the 1970’s with the rising drug culture made it likely that I would’ve ended up in a bad way if I’d been born female.
I could see now just how utterly selfish that was. It had to be all about me, but what about my Mom? Already I could see Lee was making a difference in the quality of her life. Could this continue? I didn’t know. Already the history that I’d known was diverging further with each day. My thoughts of using my future knowledge and becoming rich were fading. However, I felt more at ease with myself and confident that no matter my sex or gender I could and would have a positive influence on the ones I loved in this strange second chance I’d been given.
Getting the distinct feeling Mom was trying to show me every negative aspect of femaleness, she asked, “How do you like wearing a pad?”
Truthfully I answered, “It feels like I’m wearing a diaper down there.”
Scoring herself a point she, added, “Are you ready to go back to being a boy?”
I made a show of sighing and stopping my cleaning. “Well, that part of being a girl isn’t very comfortable, but there’re good things too.”
Mom picked up a stack of books and started to put them away. With so many readers in the house there was always books to be shelved. “Really?” She said kneeling to reach the bottom shelf.
I knelt with her nodding. “I guess I must be weird, but I like the time we’ve spent with each other. That’s nice.”
She couldn’t hide her own smile as I went on.
“It’s cool to be able to show my feeling without anyone making fun of me about it. Boys don’t cry or other stuff like calling Dad, Daddy if I want.” I explained helping her with the books.
“Oh I know there’s bad things too. I know a little about the biology part with periods although I expect you’ll set me straight on the details. Can’t say I’m looking forward to any of that, but it is possible because they provided those napkin things in the suitcase.” I said ruefully.
“Adam gave me a taste of even more of the bad with that hmmm… stuff he was talking. Some men seem to think peeing standing up gives them some kind of special privileges besides being able to write their names in the snow!” I giggled.
Mom bowed her head thinking about old memories I think.
“Right now, I’m bigger than Adam, but if I stay this way that’ll change. I’ll grow another two or three inches but then I’m finished. Be lucky if I end up as tall as you are. Everyone will be taller than me. Size does matter after all,” I acknowledged.
“On the other hand, there are ways to make up the difference by fighting dirty. There’s the martial arts thing and other equalizers. All those things won’t help finding a job where I could be paid the same wage as man for the same work. I know the world isn’t fair.” I felt the tears start to well up inside. Oh damn.
I knew I should stop but having come so far I couldn’t. “But what is so great about being a boy?”
“Not getting beat up? No, that still happens when you’re as small as I am.”
“Maybe not being so small? Let’s be real. There’s always going to be men and women who’s going to be taller than me, even as a male.”
“How about beating up other people or the whole sports thing? You should know I’m not like that and couldn’t care less about football, or most other sports. The only sports I really watch are the stuff girls are into anyways, like gymnastics and figure skating.” The first tears began to fall.
“So the only reason to be a boy is because I might be able to get a better job. I have to hide my feelings, and be miserable doing something I probably don’t like so I can make a few more dollars.” I sobbed unable to continue.
She hugged me. “Is that really how you feel honey?”
Sniffling, I nodded.
Mom held me tight sighing, “The world isn’t a good place. There’re so many who think nothing of it to take advantage of women and girls. I figured out you wanted to stay like this almost as soon as you got in the car yesterday. That's besides Adam catching you in my pantyhose last year.”
Blushing, I thought I did a better job of covering up than that. As for the pantyhose, well at least that embarrassing incident was the same as I remembered.
A little sadly she laughed seeing my face. “Dear you were doing everything, but skipping down the sidewalk. I don’t think anyone thought you were anything, but joyful.”
“But,” She said. “You can’t stay like this. There’re so many who would hurt you. Okay the world isn’t fair. I’m so sorry that because of your speech and learning problems you know this already. It’s hard for anyone but it’s worse for girls. Far better to be a boy no matter how you feel.”
Another tear stung my eyes as it fell. I knew exactly why she felt that way. If it was within my power I would try and make it right, but I couldn’t. Those horrible events happened even further back in the past.
Obviously my so devious plan had unraveled before I’d hardly started. Somehow I had to make her understand. “Mom, I know Granddad hurt you from listening to you and Dad talk. Maybe one day you’ll be able to tell me about it, but please don’t think being a boy is going to somehow protect me from the bad out there.
“Yeah, I’ve known for a long time that inside my heart I was more girl than boy. I can’t tell you why. Maybe it just happens sometimes like babies with hare lips or Adam with his cross-eyed thing.” I tried to explain. The reasons were still unknown even three decades from now, but I couldn’t tell her that.
“This isn’t a phase I’m going though. I didn’t decide one day I wanted to be girl because I think the grass is greener on the other side. I didn’t decide anything at. It just is.”
I tapped my heart. “In here, I’ve always been feminine. The games I play, and the pictures I draw all show that. The only remotely boy-like thing I’ve ever done is build model air planes. But flying isn’t only for men. Look at Amelia Earhart or …” I caught myself before I said Valentina Tereshkova the woman cosmonaut. There was no way to know if she was the first woman in space in this strange new world.
“Or any of those women pilots who flew during WWII ferrying planes all over the world,” I tried to cover for in my near snafu.
Opening my mouth to say more, Mom put her finger across my mouth stopping me. “I believe you.”
I saw the anguished sadness in her all parents feel when they know their child is in pain, but can’t make the hurt go away. “We didn’t want this done to you to start with. I don’t think they’re going to listen if you say you want to stay like this.”
Truthfully I said, “Mom, I’m happy because this is as close as I’ve ever felt to being whole. I only want to be your and Dad’s daughter. This Chinese girl thing not so much.” Whoops, modern slang, but I think she understood me anyways.
“As for Career Day, well. ‘Please Brer Fox don’t throw me into the briar patch,’ I said grinning.
Mom smiled as she wiped my tears, “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”
I had more ideas on the matter but thought it best to keep them to myself for now. More research was needed. Hell, I still had a lot of prep work to do.
“I have to try Mom. Even if I fail and I go back to being Lil Ernie, the know-how is still going to be there. I’ll try again.”
Shrugging I said helping her to her feet, “But I think the younger I begin the better. There is so much I’ve already missed out on. Starting as a girl now, I have a lot of catching up to do. If I’m older, there’ll be even more stuff for me to learn.”
Sighing she hugged me again. I felt her tears on my shoulder. “I did want red headed grandchildren from you, but if you stay this way I’ll never see them. You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for wanting to be a girl.”
I couldn’t tell her that any children from me was a pipe dream anyways. I’d never could get past all my problems and make any of the relationships I’d had, work for more than a year or two. No woman with any sense wanted anyone as messed up as I was. Low self-esteem was insidious like that undercutting all your efforts.
Holding her, I said, “Who of us ever do? All we can do is trust our hearts and do our best. You said everyone could see my happiness. How long has it been since you’ve been able to say that?”
Adding to our pile of tissues, I said with glistening eyes, “Besides, I have you and Dad to help me with the hard parts.”
“I see you’ve thought about this some. When did you get so smart?” Mom lovingly accused me.”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe because you’ve given such good role models?”
She gave me a playful shove. “Don’t sass your parents!”
Still wiping our sniffles and tears away, the door to the kitchen opened.
Little Darryl stood there dragging his jacket behind him. “Mama, me wanna go outside. Play in the snow!”
Little brother still didn’t know what to think of me.
Mom surveyed our work. “We did a good job. I think we can afford a little play, don’t you Lee?”
Silly me grinned as she used my feminine name. “Sure! My brogans are a little loose now, but should be okay with a second pair of socks.”
“You do that and I’ll get Darryl bundled up.” Mom said taking his hand.
Watching them leave, I exhaled happily. I’d no idea if I was doing the right thing, but I think both she and I were the better for it so far. Then I was rushing to get dressed.
Soon we were outside in the cold wet white stuff. I showed little brother how to make snow angels, and he showed me the lopsided snowman he and Adam made yesterday. Then Mom sneaked attacked us with a snowball. Lady, our dog, bounded out into the snow barking joining the fun trying to catch the snowballs. I think our poor dog was a little confused thinking they were her usual toys.
Darryl did score a near miss on the peanut gallery of kitties curiously watching our insanity. Smoky meowed loudly protesting while daintily shaking her paws clean. The rest of the pride who weren’t so trusting scattered like the wind.
Knowing he didn’t understand that while playing snowballs with the dog was okay, but it wasn’t with the cats, I distracted him with a tickling tackle. It didn’t take long for both of us to have snow in places we’d rather not, but we’re laughing so, we didn’t care.
Mom stood over us chuckling as she dug us out of the snowdrift. “Okay you two,” she said. “I think it’s time to thaw you both out.”
Winking at Darryl I slipped a snowball into his hand, glancing up at She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed.
Laughing manically, he threw it at her in that funny over the head way toddlers do. Maybe I should’ve said, he threw in her general direction because it didn’t even come close.
Catching it in midair, somehow the fragile thing didn’t fall apart as Mom eyed us. “So that’s the way it’s going to be huh?”
Scrambling up, I scooped up little brother but didn’t make another step before she nailed me right in the back of my neck sending yet more snow where it wasn’t suppose to go.
Squealing, I dropped Darryl hopping up and down like crazy as the ice ran down my back.
He rolled around in the snow helplessly red faced and laughing. Lady bounded up to him nosing him with her cold snout. Soon both of them were happily wrestling.
Grinning, me and Mom separated the two.
I was ready to go inside now. Wet and cold, I’d enough fun for now. Besides it was still snowing. If history repeated itself, our snow angels and footsteps would be covered in few hours.
Then I saw Mom smirking behind us.
There was Dad and Adam back from their hunting trip. Since they’d left about the time Mom and I started cleaning, I guessed they’d been gone about two hours. More than enough time for both of them to get chilled and ready for something hot.
What was so funny was their expressions.
Dad had this dumbfounded look that guys get when they see something they really liked. Adam however seemed to be torn between wanting to join us and trying to do the stoic guy thing.
Mom solved his dilemma. Her snowball caught Dad right in his shoulder.
Now, she was years younger than Dad. He was past old enough to be her father, but he was everything her own wasn’t. Maybe it was simply two lonely people trying find happiness and doing the best they could regardless of their ages. The point here is he grew up during WWI and was part of that ’Greatest Generation’ thing.
Dad looked down at the remains of the spattered icy projectile and did that Clint Eastwood ‘tick’ if you know what I mean. I swear sometimes Clint must’ve made Dad teach him how to do it just right. However, I truly believe my father was still the master of that ominous glare.
Belying, his 69 years, he scooped a snowball and let fly like big league pitcher.
Now it was Mom’s turn to squeal.
Time stopped as frozen as the snow we stood in as we three kids looked at each other. Did we really see our stoic tough guy dad throw a snowball? What should we do? With a gust of blowing snow, time resumed. Then we indiscriminately started tossing snowballs at everyone.
But all good things must come to an end.
Dad turned up the heater as we got out of our wet things. Adam and Darryl were in the bathtub making the most of the heat and hot water. Because of my transformation, I was going to get to have one by myself.
While I was waiting, I dug into that suitcase looking to see if a pair of sweatpants was hidden in the bottom. While I did found a couple of nostalgic wide sleeve blouses, and even a denim skirt, but no such luck for the pants.
A knock at the door announced Mom. She looked a bit tired, but as I well knew escaping from reality though the pages of a book didn’t do much for keeping one in shape. That snowball brawl got energetic there at the end.
Her green eyes didn’t miss the open suitcase. “You’re going to wear that?” Mom asked inclining her towel wrapped head at the denim skirt on the bed.
I tried to explain why I was looking for exercise gear, leaving out the part about maybe fighting with my brother. “I was looking for sweatpants. Girls are supposed to be a lot more flexible than boys. I wanted to find out just how much. You know the gymnastics thing.”
She nodded, but I saw her eyes was still on the skirt.
Feeling strange, I asked, “Would you like for me to model it for you?”
Mom smiled nodding again. Talk about weird. Growing up I think I would’ve killed for her permission to put on a dress. I was as giddy as if I’d the whole world on a platter.
Picking out a cream colored peasant blouse, I slipped on the skirt. Nervous like never before, I spun around for her enjoying the swish against my legs despite the cold. I think maybe this was a test for her to see just how far I wanted to go, but for me it was so much more. Emotions trapped within me for 40 years bubbled up as powerful as day they first began to bloom.
No wonder I’d failed tying to hide this. I’d had just as much chance of stopping Mt. St. Helen’s eruption or Hurricane Katrina’s Gulf Coast rampage. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I was overwhelmed by my feelings.
Then Mom’s arms were around me. “I'm sorry honey. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Slinging wet tears away, I shook my head. “Mom! These are happy tears. You have no idea of have how long I’ve waited to do this for you.”
She wiped my tears. “I’m going to have to start carrying a box of tissues with me if we keep this up.”
Despite our talking I knew she was still resistant to me staying female. Smiling up at her I wondered if she was softening. I saw the change in her face.
Taking my hand Mom said, “Come with me.”
She led me to her wardrobe. Giving me a crooked smile she started digging in her closet. “I don’t have sweatpants, but I think these will work.” Mom held out a pair of black leggings.
I didn’t need a mirror to know my eyes were bulging out. It was one of those contradictory things. Because of her past abuse, Mom often tried to cover up her femininity. However, I guess because she liked the comfort she also wore these very form revealing leggings.
That was how Mom had met Dad after all. She worked as a carhop at this drive-in he liked. The leggings were part of her uniform back then. You could say they were the reason why my brothers and I existed at all.
At my old age of 49, my parents’ sexuality didn’t bother me. If anything, from that look Dad gave Mom at the start of Snowball Fight Part Two, they might be looking for time together. Okay, yet something else for me to do along with everything else.
“Do you think it’ll fit?” I asked her my hands shaking a little.
Mom searched my face. “I think so. I’m only a little taller than you and they do fit snug. Go ahead and change.”
Happily I complied. Like she said they were snug, but still a little loose because I was shorter and only in the first stages of puberty. Still, I felt a rush looking into the mirror.
Turning to her, I hugged, “Thanks Mom! These will be perfect.”
She critically evaluated me. “You do need to stay out of your father’s sight wearing those. I think he might hurt himself. He still hasn’t got over what those people did to you. Mind you, he hasn’t forgotten that you got into my clothes last year, but this would be a bit much I think.”
I smiled changing back into the skirt.
Mom laughed, “I don’t think that is going to help any.”
Giggling, I had to agree. “Well I still have to shower.”
Glancing back into the mirror I saw another area I needed help. “Mom? What do I about my hair? I never had it long before.”
She ran her fingers though my tangled locks making wince when she it a snag. “The easiest way is to cut it.”
Raising an eyebrow seeing my pained expression, she suggested, “We could also braid it. If you’re set on keeping it long you’ll have to get used to brushing often and spending a lot of time keeping it nice.”
I nodded. Knowing all too well my tendency for procrastination, I might end up with it short. However, I wanted to have it long at least for a little while. I’d spent most of my old life with crew cuts or shorter because of my military service as well as all the dirty jobs I worked afterwards. Long hair was a luxury I wanted to experience.
“Mom, I know it’s going to be a lot of trouble, but I would like to try it long.”
Her eyes kinda flashed. I had the feeling I just had another test. Well, fine then!
“If you’re planning on bouncing around, now might be the best time. Your brothers are going to stay near the heater until their hair dries. Best for you to get sweaty now, before you bathe. Then you can get cleaned up and I’ll see what I can do about your hair. You might end up in pigtails. Does that bother you?”
“I would rather have one braid in the back than two,” I said holding my hands to the side of my head. But you fix it the way you think looks best. You know more about this than I do.”
Mom chuckled, “I don’t know. For a boy, You have pretty clear ideas about what you like as a girl.”
Trying to look innocent, I replied, “I might’ve been looking at what girls are wearing. Thinking about what I did and didn’t like, kinda sorta,” I said looking bashful.
She shook her head still trying to wrap her head around all of this. “Go, but mind don’t shake the house!”
Going back to my little room I almost had to turn crossways to change clothes. Good thing I was so lithe right now. Peeking into my brothers room to make sure the coast was clear, I found one of my ‘boy’ sweatshirts to go with Mom’s leggings. Another double pair of socks kept my feet reasonably warm as I went into our living room.
It was the only room in the house that had enough open space for me to really stretch out. Being closed off more or less for the winter the last time anyone really spent anytime in here was Christmas. In this house the kitchen was the heart of our home.
Reaching for the ceiling, and slowly lowering my arms, I touched my toes without really trying. Letting myself unwound, I found my nose on my knees. Okay test one was a success. I was limber as a snake!
Next was going to be harder. I spent time testing my balance and coordination. I stumbled a time or two but it mustn’t been very loud since no one came running to see what was up.
After spending so long as an obese middle aged man with the beginnings of Arthritis, this was exhilarating. There were rough spots but over all not bad. Settling into Tai Chi’s modified ‘horse stance’ I began the first movement. I’d just begun this a few weeks before my time dimensional shift or whatever.
Relying on cheap DVD instructional video, I knew my posture needed lots of work. It was what I could afford and was better than nothing. The other martial arts training I’d was years in the past. Even then I never went very far. I used to joke I knew enough to get myself hurt.
On the other hand, the self-defense aspects had come in handy any number of times. In fact, part of what I was doing was seeing how much of what I remembered could be used without inflicting real harm. Heel stomping, eye gouging, and other fun and popular ways of telling someone to please go away usually meant a trip to the doctor or even the emergency room. I really didn’t want to hurt anyone at all, much less my younger brother.
Now that I was warmed up, I tried a few punches and kicks. If nothing else they might serve as deterrents assuming I looked like I knew what I was doing. Practicing throws and falls was more of a problem without a partner. I did walk myself though what I could remember. At that swiveling of the hips that used to give me so much trouble seemed easier.
Feeling a lot more confident I played a little trying a handstand. That was an eye opener, because it told me just how much arm strength I’d lost. The answer was a lot! Trying a men’s style pushup told me fate was laughing at me again.
Ironically, I’d started the Tai Chi as an attempt to lose weight without exercising my already bulky shoulders and arms. I wanted a more androgynous body. Working out those thick arms and barrel chest was a no-no.
Now, that was exactly what I had to do. My arms needed work, a lot of work. The one thing that hadn’t change was trying to do it on the cheap. My family besides being miles away from the nearest dojo, didn’t have the money for me to take classes anyways.
Huffing a little from the effort I heard the door open. Pretending I hadn’t heard, I stretched upwards again going on tippy toes. Then I reached down for the floor. It was even easier this time since I was well stretched out. Wondering, how far I could take this I actually put my shoulders pass the plane of my legs. Wow!
Slowly I straighten enjoying the play of muscles while I peered at who was watching me.
Darryl was looking around the door frame leading to the dinning room. His eyes were wide with amazement.
I didn’t blame him. Hell, the first time I’d seen anything like this was on the old ABC’s Wide World of Sports thing about Taiwanese Acrobats. I’d stared at our little black and white TV in awe at those seemingly boneless, limber entertainers.
Smiling at my shy little brother, with a wink I leaned backwards. I couldn’t quite go all the way back and touch my hands to the floor. However I did go far enough I could see him still spying. Straightening, I made a promise to try and keep as much of this so cool flexibility as I could.
Not really knowing, I guessed that this was fairly normal for a girl to be this lithe. However like everything else I would have to do this on the cheap. Lots of kids are permanently injured for life in accidents involving trampolines, tumbling and other gymnastics activities. I did not want to spend my new life in a wheelchair. That meant I would have to be careful and plan. Oh great, more writing and thinking to do!
Sinking cross-legged onto the floor, I gestured at Darryl to come over, “Hey, come on in. I’m finished.”
Darryl and I had mostly got along while growing up. Unless you count his testing the aerodynamic properties of my fragile plastic aircraft models, there was too much of an age difference for us to really conflict. Now he and Adam used to get into it with some Gawd awful fights sometimes. Both were trying for the same limited resources, but I think it was also because they also competed for Dad’s attention too. Sometimes, it seemed Adam was fighting with everybody. Again something I never did much.
It was the son thing that at heart, I never was. After I left for the Army, and Dad died, he became a real hell raiser. Trouble in school, and my poor Mom unable to deal with any of it, had him joining the Navy one step ahead of the law.
Following a dishonorable discharge, he took up truck driving. Trouble still followed him, as he left a string of women and kids behind him. The last I heard he was working on his fourth marriage while paying alimony to the other three.
Darryl giggled and crept closer to me. He looked at me really intensely and then shook his head. “You ain’t Ernie.”
That sent a bolt of fear into me. It was back to my family thinking I was someone else. Trying not to freak out, I asked, “Why is that squirt?”
He got that expression young kids get when concentrating really hard. Darryl smiled big. “You smile lots!”
I couldn’t help giving him another one as I answered, “So I didn’t smile very much, huh? Well, I’m happier now.”
I knew it was coming when he asked, “Why?”
Just how do you explain to a three year old that a government bureaucracy using what you suspect are ETI artifacts changed his big brother’s gender and race because of some stupid jerk was indulging in pet theories of social engineering. Oh and let’s not forget the whole transgender deal where your self-image and who you identify with doesn’t match up with your physical appearance.
Well little brother used to like Sci-Fi and fantasy like me so let’s try this. “Well let's tell a story okay?”
He scooted closer as I held out my arms. After a moments hesitation he sat in my lap. “Once upon a time there was an evil witch. One day in May the sun was shining and everyone was out happy and having fun. It made her so very mad. She hated seeing everyone so happy so she started looking for trouble.
“It didn’t take her long to find a stork carrying a baby girl to her new family. Being crafty she waited until the bird put the baby down and knocked on the door. Then she wave her wand and magicked the girl into a boy!
“The Mama opened the door and found her new baby. She and the Daddy were a little confused because they thought they’re suppose to get a baby girl not a baby boy. But they were good parents and were happy with their new baby no matter what.
“The witch crackled with glee every time she looked in on the family. The baby was confused and sad. She didn’t understand why she was being dressed in blue and given all the boy toys. Her parents tried the best they could but they didn’t understand either why their baby boy seemed so sad.
“As she grew older, things got harder. She loved her parents and tried to do what they taught her, but she was a girl trying to do things a boy’s way. That didn’t work out so good. However no matter how hard she tried, things never worked out the way they were supposed to. The eggs got cracked, and the milk went sour. No one in the family was happy. Everyone the village was sad. They missed their eggs and milk. That made the old evil witch very happy. She liked making people feel miserable.
“The great kingdom they lived in had a powerful King. He knew the reason why his kingdom thrived was because of all the different people living within its borders. There were peoples of all shapes and sizes from the big blue people in the South to the tiny purple ones to the North and every size and description in between. They traded ideas and different ways of how to do things. That let their kingdom thrive in a way that other, lesser lands, couldn’t match.
“However, because they were all so different, they began to quarrel and fight. This made the king sad because he loved his kingdom and all of it's people. So he called all his wizards and wisest advisers together to find a solution.
“One wanted to change everyone so they were all the same. That way they would have no reason to fight if they were a nice bright orange, his favorite color. But the King knew that would destroy his kingdom’s greatest strength, their difference. Find another he ordered.
“One wily sorcerer wanted prove how great he was. He wasn’t interested in the Kingdoms benefit only in his own glory. He thought he saw a way to convince the King to try his plan.
“Great King,” he said, “Rather than change everyone why don’t we instead change their children so that they look like those they fought with. Surely, they wouldn’t hurt their own offspring, and it will make them see how much they are alike instead of how much they are different.’
“The King thought and thought. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The people might come after me thinking I’d stolen their children. Instead we will change them only for one week. During that time we will teach them how wonderful it is to be different, and that we are all brothers and sisters belonging to the same Great Kingdom.’
“The Wily Sorcerer gathered up a great number of witches and wizards to cast the spells the King commanded. Because he was interested only in his own welfare, he wasn’t too picky with who he selected to help. While many believed in the King with all of their hearts some were like the evil old witch wanting only to hurt others.
“One of those was a Sorceress who before she found her magic was fat and ugly. She used her powers to make her self slim and beautiful, but never forgot all those who used to make fun of her.
“Instead of obeying the king’s command to transform the children and teach them kindness and how we are all one people regardless of how we look, she wanted only revenge on everyone who wasn‘t ugly or fat like she used to be.
“Fortunately the King, being wise, made sure the magic spells couldn’t bring harm to anyone. But the Sorceress was clever. She used her powers to turn their children into those the parents most feared and hated. Then instead of teaching them love and kindness, she made them feel ashamed and little. When she finally turned them back, they were all unhappy and sad. That made the Sorceress very happy because that made their parents who used to pick on her miserable and upset.
“The parents shouted their unhappiness with this Sorceress, but there were many others who were also unhappy with the King. Their voices were lost in the roar of discontent.
“The young Sorceress’s revenge went on and on as she traveled. Finally she came to the village of the Boy who was a Girl. She found the family the evil old witch had cursed, but being inexperienced and full of vileness she saw only that the parents loved their son.
“That morning at the village school, everyone was afraid and angry. They’d all heard of this Sorceress and how she twisted the King’s decree to cause hurt and mayhem.
“Like she’d done so many times before, she used the King’s magic to change all the kids. Some were now blue or red and one was even purple. But for that one sad boy she wanted something really mean. Not seeing the curse and wanting to hurt the parents the Sorceress cast her spell. She turned him into a her.
I looked down at Darryl to see how he was taking this but he urged, “What happened next?”
Smiling I went on. “A big snowstorm came out of nowhere and everyone scurried home before the Sorceress could be mean and nasty making everyone feel bad.
“Safely back home where it was nice and warm, well the Girl found she was a Girl. She was worried about her parents and what everyone would think. That was because she truly cared about people. However, now that she was a girl and had to do things in a girl way, nothing went wrong anymore. The eggs didn’t get cracked and the milk stayed fresh.
Darryl interrupted, “What color did she get turned into? Yellow?” He asked.
Oh but the joys of growing up in the intolerant South. If I stayed looking ’Chinese’ as my parents called it, I would have to get used to this. Smiling I shook my head. “No silly! What color are my eyes?”
Wide eyed he peered and squealed, “Green and gold!”
“That’s right. But being a different color didn’t bother her. After she’d spent her whole life looking like a boy. No longer sad, guess what she did a lot of?” I asked my little brother pointing to my smile.
Giggling he answered, “She smiled a lot!”
“Yes she did!” I said. “But she had a big problem. No matter how mean the Sorceress was she had to turn all the children to back to what they were after a week.
“That was the last thing the Girl wanted. She didn’t like cracked eggs and sour milk any more than the rest of her village. So she came up with a plan to help her parents and brothers understand this was how she was supposed to be all along.
Enthralled, Darryl asked again, “What happened next?”
The Daddy and her younger brother went hunting, while the Girl helped her Mama clean their house. Then they went out with her baby brother and had a big snowball fight! “ I said tickling him.
“Not a baby!” He protested laughing rolling on the floor, “I’m a big boy. I’m three!”
Not so easily deterred, he demanded, “But what happened next?”
I countered, “What do you think happened?”
Unsurprisingly he said, “There was a big fight!”
Shaking my head no, I grinned, “Nope, although a lot of people were really, really mad at the King, when the magic changed the kids back, it cured all their diseases and made them all well. No one likes to have a sick child. They were still mad, but sorry squirt, no fight. Try again.” I told him.
“They beat up the Sor-cer-ess,” he said loudly unable to pronounce it quite right.
I tousled his short cut brown hair. “Nope they didn’t do that either. She was still doing the King’s business and guarded by his knights even if she was doing it all wrong. Try again.” I said.
“Aw please!,” he pleaded. “What was her plan?”
I stood up pulling him to his feet. “Well, she tried to be sneaky and just let everyone figure out on their own that she should’ve been a girl all along. Then she was going make the Sorceress so mad she would leave her a girl anyways no matter what the King said.”
I shook my head giving little brother the ‘sad eyes’ treatment. “But that didn’t work.” I told him sighing.
Walking towards the warm kitchen, he asked, “Why?”
I grinned at him just before we rejoined the rest of the family, “Seems like the Girl was so happy, she couldn’t hide it. Everyone figured out way before they were suppose to. Even her little baby brother knew she was smiling way too much.”
His understanding brighten his face just like that proverbial light bulb. Taking my hand he earnestly whispered if a mite loud, “So what happens now?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I‘ll have to get back to you about that.”
He puffed himself up. “I won’t say nutting. You’re lots more fun than Ernie. I like you.”
Opening the door I took that in the spirit the three year old meant it as instead of an insult. “I like you too squirt.”
Despite my quick exit to grab my bath stuff, Adam saw me in Mom’s leggings. Of course he ratted me out to Dad. That was how I got caught the last time I’d dared dress in Mom’s stuff, the little rat! The good news was Dad didn’t have a heart attack or anything. However I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the last problem I had with Adam.
On the other hand, I enjoyed my bath. I finally had a chance to really examine myself. Last night since I was sharing my cot with Smoky, I couldn’t do that. The weird part was my mature mind saw this lithe girl with the cute face, but she was just entering puberty. That felt really uncomfortable even though it was me I was looking at.
Some TG girls have hang-ups about kids. Don’t get me wrong! I loved them and wish I could have some of my own. But I was very sensitive about avoiding possible allegations that because I was TG, I had to be a pedophile. It’s not true, but what people don’t understand they demonize. I’m afraid that was what many thought and believed even four decades into the future.
I hugged myself refusing to let those old fears ruin this second chance of mine. I made myself calm down. First figure out how to stay a girl then I can freak out about the whole sex thing. It was way too early to worry about who I might be attracted to or any the rest of it.
It was clear I needed to sit down and read that damn book. Of course I’ve not had distractions like being reunited with my father who’ve been dead for 30 years or finding beloved pets I thought I would never see again. And were just a few of the issues I faced.
Dressing in clean jeans, I noticed again how the pair I’d worn the day before had altered just as I was. The tags and all still said the same thing, but the cut and fit was different. Comparing the two showed significant changes had been made so they would fit the new me.
Putting on a green button up blouse from the suitcase, I found my brothers enjoying mugs of hot cocoa. Mom motioned me to sit in a chair where she had her old ‘bubble top’ hair dryer hooked up. It looked a lot like those bee hive things you see in the salons, but this one was more or less portable. I think she’d gotten it as a wedding gift, but she didn’t use it very often.
“Here sit down, and I’ll start on your hair,” she said handing me a steaming mug and sitting down behind me.
I wasn’t sure what she was doing back there, but my goodness was Dad doing his best not to see if you know what I mean. Adam decided to follow Dad’s cue ignoring us and watched the wrestlers on the tube.
Darryl however was staring at Mom and I. This was all new to him. Haircuts in this family were just that. Buzz cut it so it lasts as long as possible. Mom dealing with her depression and other issues didn't have the world’s most feminine hairdo. Me, introducing this into the family added something different he’d never seen before.
Mom explained what she was doing. “You should really let your hair dry before combing or brushing. But you’d some tangles we needed to comb out. Let’s get you under the dryer now.”
Sliding back she lowered the dome over my head turning it on. The warm air hit my head. The old 60’s hair dryer sounded like I had a leaf blower on my head.
Dad reached up and turned the TV up while Adam just cut me some more unfriendly glares. Darryl kept reaching up to feel the air. I pulled him giggling into my lap. Sitting there, little brother could feel the air blowing over me. He was happy sitting there.
It seemed to take forever, but I guess it wasn’t really that long. I did have a chance to think. That snowball fight had never happened in my original timeline. Dad and I had gone hunting but hadn’t found a thing. Mom had stayed inside while my brothers had played for a while, but had gone inside way before, we’d returned.
We mostly just watched it snow and not much else. Nothing like was happening right now. Darryl pretended he was driving a race car to the roar of the hair dryer as I leaned him left and right.
Mom was smiling at us as she checked to see if my hair was dry yet. Dad if you didn’t know him might seem disapproving. I think it was more like he was holding his tongue so to speak. If he officially noticed then he would have to do something, but since Mom was handling this, he was off the hook.
I couldn’t miss how he was looking at Mom too. She was more alive and involved right now then she’d been in my memories. Yes, she was happier. I think seeing her happy made up a lot for whatever discomfort he felt over my situation. He was above all a practical man.
Adam was probably the most confused at this change of fortune. The middle son, he was used to getting his way. He was always more aggressive than me, and adept at playing our parents. Things had changed and he didn’t like it.
I didn’t know if I the changes I was making to the future was for the best. I hoped and prayed that they were. So many things to worry about: My parent’s health; staying true to myself; keeping Darryl out of trouble, and more I’ve haven’t gotten around to think about yet.
However the question about Adam was a hard one. In my future he was happy being an unrepentant redneck. Hell, he was proud of it! On the other hand, I wasn’t about to let him make my life any harder than it needed to be.
The best philosophy was be true to myself and do my best to have a positive influence on those I love and all those whose lives I touch.
Seeing how hard younger brother was trying to emulate Dad gave me an idea. I rather liked it because it was definitely a more girlish way of handling Adam.
Then Mom bought me back down to Earth. “There! You’re dry enough I think.”
Removing the noisy machine, she began brushing and combing. “Here’s the deal. You let your hair get in a mess. I know you didn’t know how to take care of it, but it is pretty and looks good on you. I’m going to put you up in pigtails and ribbons. When you show me, you can take care of it yourself we’ll put in a single braid.”
“Mom!” I protested. “I’m thirteen not six.”
Even though I could see her I knew that tone. “No whining young lady! Right now you’re more like five than six. You’ve a lot to learn about long hair. Do you understand or do I need to go after my scissors?”
“I understand Mom.” I replied.
Adam was smirking failing to ignore our little drama. Dad’s mouth twitched, I think from amusement. He seemed to be still in ’let-Momma-handle-it mode. Little brother Darryl was content sit in my lap and watch Mom work on my hair.
I wasn’t really surprised by her deal. Both Mom and Dad were old fashioned. I half suspected they would’ve happily sent me to school in pigtails and pantaloons.
Mom didn’t take long. She did grow up in a larger family with six girls. Lots of practice I suspect doing braids. Guiding me to the mirror, I got my first look at my new do. The twin braids fell onto my shoulders. She’d tied them with green ribbons I assumed was leftover from Christmas.
Smiling I hugged her, “Thanks Mom. It looks good.”
I must’ve surprised her again. “What? No complaints about looking too childish?”
I let the joy I felt show. For me, this time and place were long gone. All I had were memories. To be here with those I loved, was a precious gift. Yes, even Adam, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was dead set on being.
To share experiences like this with Mom was real life wish fulfillment. “I like it because no one has ever braided my hair before. You did say if I learned to take care of it you would help me with other styles.”
I nodded my head at the window. “From the way it’s snowing we’re going to be stuck home for awhile. No one else is going to see these,” I said lifting my braids.
Darryl was still curious so I picked him up. “No pulling,” I warned him.
He examined my hair. “Pretty!”
I giggled at the image that flashed before my eyes. Darryl the tough womanizing truck driver, becoming a hairdresser!
Mom popped his hand, “Don’t put her hair in your mouth!”
“Okay time for lunch. Let’s get the hairdryer put up and everything put back where it should be,” Mom ordered.
Still carrying Darryl, I said, “Come on. You can help.”
He laughed enjoying the game of pretending to help.
A short time later we were cooking. She’d decided to do a heavy noon meal since it was a real possibility we would lose power with all this snow. Fried chicken, rice, cornbread, and preserved green beans from our garden during the summer. For Dad since he didn’t like chicken there was pork chops.
Of course I was helping. It was a little rough in spots since I was still remembering where everything was kept, but nothing bad. Since Darryl had taken to following me, I helped him set the table.
Usually that was what the boy-me did with Adam helping. Younger brother was ignoring us obviously hoping he could skate. I knew better. Mom was a big believer in everyone doing their share. He was used to me to doing most the work, but if he didn’t help he wouldn't like what was coming.
Mom gave me an approving pat on the back. I didn’t miss the sharp glance she gave Adam. Nope he wasn’t going to care for it at all.
Soon enough everything was done. This time it was much harder to cut my portion. This was one of my favorite meals from my childhood. However, I stuck to my plan. Regardless it was delicious!
Poor Adam found himself washing dishes. He wasn't a happy camper. Taking a little pity, plus I did have a plan, I helped a little. Announcing I would help dry, I made it damn clear I wasn’t going to do his chore for him.
While he got started, I took the leftovers to our pets. The new falling snow had covered up all signs of our morning frolics. I made sure everything was comfy for Lady and the cats. Smoky however made it plain she was ready to come back inside. That was a problem since I didn’t think I could pull it off the way I was being watched by everyone. I was sure Adam was up to some kind of revenge.
Scratching her between her ears in the way I knew she loved I whispered, “Sorry little one. No can do right now. We’ll see what we can do tonight.”
Her unhappy “meow” told me what she thought about that idea. Sighing I took one last look at the ever growing snowdrifts. Some were nearly waist deep on me now. It was still good to get back inside. With all the baths, hair styling, and cooking it was toasty warm.
I helped younger brother with the dishes like I promised. Of course Mom was there to helping and making sure he did it right. Darryl did his best to help too. By the time we’d finish, he was ready for his nap. I decided it was a good time to kill several birds with one stone. “Mom, Darryl’s ready for nappy time. Why don’t we let him use my cot? I have to do some studying and can watch him.”
Dad gave Mom a look that was pure invitation.
With a little sparkle in her eyes she agreed, “Sure, that’ll be fine. We might lay down for a while too. But we don’t want any of you going outside. Doing your homework is a good idea.”
“Adam have you done yours yet?” She asked.
He shot me another dirty look, “No Mom, not yet.”
She commanded, “This will a good time to get started.”
Okay great! He’d another reason to plot against me. Forewarned is fore armed. “C'mon Darryl nap time.”
Sleepily he took my hand. Minutes later I was tucking him in. “Sweet dreams squirt.”
With a mutter he was asleep. “Nitie Lee.”
Silly me just smiled. His acceptance was a precious gift.
Alrighty then! Time to finally get to my reading. Pulling out the textbook sized volume. The cover proclaimed it the Career Day Program briefing manual.
Taking out my notes, I opened checked out the index. The first few chapters dealt with the canned speeches to school administrators and teachers. Following that were the ones Robert had marked for me. The ones for the students. The Introduction, the Career Dialogue, and lastly the Graduation.
There was also a Remedial section. Applying my will power I started at the beginning.
Pretty much like I thought this whole abortion of a program was a heavy handed attempt at social engineering out racism. The idiot genius responsible was a Dr. Rekcuz. The basic idea was if you had a chance to walk in the other fella’s shoes you’ll have a better appreciation of what the other poor sod has to go though.
I guess they couldn’t see a way of forcing adults to along with their loony plan, so they picked on the kids instead. I was right about the week long thing sorta. New students were changed on Friday, and given assignments to be done over the weekend. Then their chosen career choices were discussed taking into account their ’new’ appearance. Other possible jobs and career were then suggested, to broaden and open up the students to new horizons. ‘In theory,’ I added sarcastically in my notes.
Then came Graduation where hopefully you were changed back. I say hopefully because the ‘facilitator’ could recommend your re-transformation be delayed. That led me to the ‘remedial’ section. From what I gathered it was suppose to be an esteem builder for students who were really having negative self-image problems. Hell, there even was provision for permanent changes, but that required a hell of a lot of people signing off on it. Starting with the parent’s permission and an entire host of doctors and psychologists which had to give their okay.
Given Ms. Witch’s attitude I couldn’t see that happening to my benefit. What surprised me was who initiated the program, President Robert F. Kennedy. Okay, another big change to this timeline.
That got jotted down as another area of research. Thinking about it, I hadn’t seen anything about Vietnam on the news. I remembered that at times there was nothing but that on the evening news when I was growing up. Another note for me. Make damn sure I saw the news tonight.
On to the next part of this book. The greater majority was nothing more criteria for selecting which students got changed into what. I didn’t want to see the committee from hell that came up with this. Some parts were written by radical feminists, and others by radical liberals. Every group that felt they had an ax to grind wanted to be represented.
About the only good thing about this ‘program’ was it got points for trying. At least it acknowledged the problem, but this thing was a royal mess. I think it made things worse instead of better.
How in the world did sending the message that it was your race and appearance that was the problem, help empower the downtrodden to improve themselves? Where was the hope, tolerance and understanding in any of this?
The only good news in this ‘manual’ was this was only a test in five states with the lowest education rates in the country. There would be a period of evaluation to see if it was worthwhile to expand it nationwide. Thank Gawd for small favors! Judging from the National Guard troops this was very unpopular. Time to jot down another note about how to derail this damn thing. Maybe writing our Senator, Representative, the President, hell, somebody had to be able to see this was traumatizing everyone rather than helping.
I stopped putting down my pen. Okay almost everyone. For the small percentage like me who were TG this was a miracle. I sighed. It wasn’t worth upsetting and frightening entire schools full of kids to help only a few. For that matter, I didn’t know for sure if other TG kids had really been helped or not.
Shaking my head I watched my little brother sleep.
This thing had to be stopped. Maybe some other way could be found to help all my brothers and sisters of the heart who shared gender difficulties. Once again tolerance and compassion was the keys to success. The important element was the technology was out there. Here the entire hormone, and surgery procedures were replaced with something much better. It was society that hadn’t caught up yet.
I hit the part describing the technical aspects. The Medical Scanner was invented by the Howard Hughes Medical Institution. That was it. No information about how it did what it did. Just nothing, except that it finds and cures diseases as well as injuries.
During my transformation, Robert the technician mentioned something about the changes selected for me would engage the safeties. That was covered in some detail. The Med Scanner could change anyone into just about anyone else. It would not induce diseases or cause injuries. In some cases, however, even healthy alterations were rejected. The book suggested that it was because those would cause psychological harm.
You had to wonder when the instruction book of all things didn’t know for sure. I still believed the thing didn’t come from anywhere around here. More and more it sounded like matter transmutation. The science for that was so advanced it might as well be magic.
It was cool I’d been right about kids coming out of the Career Day program healthier than when they went in, despite the trauma. Okay maybe not that bad since most didn’t trip those mysterious safeties, but getting back to my point, any medical problems they had got cured.
To add to that, their medical information got fed into a system that was available to any med-scanner. Another interesting datum was that name badge of mine. It was coded to display the name of the patient no matter what form they were in. This was to assure parents they were getting their kid back and not someone elses.
I put the book down. Digging in my book bag, I found my badge. It read ‘Ernie.’ Looking down at Darryl I tried an experiment. In my world, little brother was delivered by C-section. He might be in their system.
Placing the badge on his expose arm sticking out of the cover, sure ‘nuff it changed! It now read, ‘Darryl.’ Picking it up, the name change back to mine. I examined it, but it looked like a plain metal badge with a pin on the back. No battery or display, I could find. The black lettering simply changed depending on who was holding it. This was beyond what 21st century science could do. I shook my head. What a mystery!
The forensic people must love these things, instant DNA testing. However I could really see a problem on the horizon. With the way these med-scanner things did extreme makeovers, if the bad guys ever broke the database, that’d be an unholy mess. I sighed, that was a worry for another time.
I was little brain fried at this point well into information overload. Being careful I hid my notes. Afterwards I flipped though the book I found an useful appendix. Since, the machine did do sex changes, there was a nice simplified section on puberty.
Turning to the part on females, I learned some useful facts. My body was about a year into Thelarche. There was approximately another year till my breast development finished and I could expect Menarche, my first period. That explained my sensitive nipples and other symptoms. Gee, thanks Mom. I was wearing this damn uncomfortable pad for nothing. However, I breathed out heavily closing my eyes. No, it did have a purpose. It was convincing Mom that I was very serious about this. It would stay.
Then I got that feeling that something was up. It didn’t take me long to find the cause. There at the door leading to his room, stood Adam. His scowl meant he wanted trouble.
Listening, I hadn’t heard any hmmm… noises from Mom and Dad’s room for a few minutes which meant, they were resting or getting ready for round two. I’m sure in any case they wouldn’t care for an interruption.
Darryl was still napping and probably wouldn’t care for one either. Okay time to try diplomacy.
“Hey Adam,” I greeted. “You finish your homework? There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
He got a crafty look. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
I inclined my head at our little brother. “Why don’t we go to your room? That way we won’t wake up Darryl.”
Adam agreed too quickly. “Sure thing.”
I slipped on my sweater. It was still chilly in there.
Shutting the door behind us I saw him tense up to try something.
“How would you like to make some money?” I asked him.
Adam stopped taken aback. He wasn’t expecting that. Money was in short supply in our family and opportunities for more even shorter.
However he might be the middle brother from hell, Adam wasn’t slow. “Where would you get money?”
I smiled again. “I asked if you wanted to make money. Not for me to give it to you. Will you listen?”
His greed overcame his desire for petty revenge. “Okay. What do I have to do?”
I spread my hands. “Alright, first lets talk about what was going to happen when I walked in. You would’ve done something to make me mad. I then would chase you as you ran to Mom and Dad for protection. You would’ve gotten your chance to hit me, and you would’ve gotten me in trouble with our parents, right?” I asked.
Adam’s face turned sour, but he didn’t answer. Amazing how looking back on all the childish crap seems thought the eyes of someone nearly 50.
I continued. “You still forgot something. I’m a girl now. The rules are different for me. I can still get in trouble if I chase you but I don’t have to now. Before I was expected to just take it as a boy, but not now. We’re too close in age for you to get away with hitting me. Now I can run to Mom and Dad and you’ll get in trouble. I expect Dad said something about this to you this morning didn’t he? That‘s why you decided against trying to beat me up and settled for your old game isn‘t it?”
Unwilling he nodded. “Yeah he did.” But he kept quiet about the rest.
Then his eyes turned shifty. “But you’re still a girl. Dad and I went out hunting this morning and you didn’t!”
Bouncing excitedly on my toes, I went, “Exactly!”
Adam was stunned. “Huh?” He asked so very intelligently.
“Let’s face it okay? I never did the boy thing very well. I did my best to fake it, but that wasn’t very good. Remember how you caught me in Mom’s clothes last year? Now, I really am a girl. I like spending time with Mom and doing stuff with her. I don’t have a problem with watching Darryl or all the other things you hate.”
Shock beyond belief Adam’s mouth hanged open. “You really are a sissy.”
“Nope! Not as long as I’m the real thing. That’s why I want to stay this way and if you’re smart you’ll help.” I said making my pitch.
Oh, crafty eyes was back! “Why should I?” He asked slyly, clearly wanting to know what was in it for him.
Still smiling and bouncing I said, “Hunting, and all the other things Dad tried to get me interested in. As long as I’m like this guess who he’s going to want to go with him instead of me?”
Figuring it out, Adam replied, “Me?”
“Yes, you,” I grinned. “Remember all those extra chores he’s always offering me a little bonus allowance to do? Who is he going to ask now? You will have to work for it, but it will be an opportunity you didn‘t have before.”
Then I added the hook. “As long as I stay a girl.”
What I didn’t say was if I stayed this way I would need a lot of new clothes. My one reservation about this was I knew how expensive outfitting a girl could be. My experience in cross-dressing taught me that much. Adding to the back end of those costs, my castoffs couldn’t be reused by my brothers like they were now. I doubted he was wearing anything that didn’t use to be mine with the exception of his tighty-whities.
Because at least Adam’s clothes would be new along with mine, there would be much less of that ‘bonus’ money for Dad to spread around. On the other hand he did mention some sort of compensation from Uncle Sam. Something else for me to go looking for information about.
He got it, repeating, “As long as you stay a girl. So you’ll spend more time with Mom, and I get to have Dad to myself?”
I shook my head. “You know they’re not that way. She’ll still spend time with you. Dad will want to do the same with me. However, you will, I think, get more time with him than I. Mom has lots to teach me like she did today with my hair.” I said touching one of my green ribbon pig tails.
Adam gave me the calculating eye. “So what do I need to do make sure you stay a girl?”
Got cha’ I grinned, “Easy really. Stop this silly competing with me over everything. No need to anymore with me being like this. No fighting over who gets to do what.
“That’ll help Mom and Dad see that my being like this is an advantage to the family. You know like helping with the cleaning and stuff like watching Darryl.” I explained.
He muttered, “I don’t like doing the dishes.”
I gave him a hard stare. “You know Mom wants everyone to help with meals. If you don’t want to do dishes you’ll have to do something else like set the table. If you do that it’ll have to be by yourself, since I’m helping more with the cooking. Assuming that happens, I’ll try to do the dishes.
“I can’t guarantee that Mom will buy that. You’ll probably have to at least clear off the table, but that should keep you from doing the dishes. Deal?” I asked.
Adam stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
Darryl’s laughing from my room and Mom’s voice alerted us that everyone was awake.
I wasn’t sure how long our truce would last, but I was going to enjoy it while it lasted! Gawd I loved being me!
To be continued in Part 3 of 3
The Final Chapter.
Mom shook my shoulder. “Time to get up, Honey.
My eyes shot open. I was so wired that last night I’d a hard time getting to sleep. Today I go back to school.
Knowing how nervous I was, she helped me get ready. I really didn’t need the help. My long dark hair was in a single long plait because I’d followed all of Mom’s hair lessons religiously. All my clothes were prepared the night before and so was my book bag.
I think the real reason was she simply enjoyed spending time with her ‘daughter’ because I certainly cherished the time I had with her. The last week had been a time of healing for both of us.
Just like I remembered, it’d snowed all day Saturday and didn’t stop till late Sunday afternoon. On the morning of the 12 February 1973 we were snowed in but good. The state was declared a disaster area and the National Guard got to do something other than nursemaid Ms. Witch.
Personally, I learned a lot. Mom took my girl lessons to heart and she found a willing and eager student. More lessons about hair care and hygiene followed by deportment stuff about how to sit and move in a skirt. In a few ways I was more girly than she because of my forays into cross-dressing. She didn’t make fun of me or anything. Instead we laughed together over some of my sometimes strange and exaggerated ideas of femininity while she admitted to playing down her own. I think it let me come to terms with the hurt I did to myself repressing so many of my feeling for so long.
At the same time, teaching me Mom was able to express her own femininity that fear and hurt caused her to hide. It was painful sometimes, as we held each other crying or when late at night I heard her soft sobbing as my Dad held her. Sometimes it hurts when you finally begin to mend, especially old wounds that'd left scars on your heart and soul.
We both had a long way yet to got, but it was a start.
Like Churchill said, “It wasn’t the end, or the beginning of the end, but perhaps the end of the beginning.” Or something like that!
Friday the 16, we adventurously ventured out. The rural country roads were still hazardous, but once we got near the state capital of Columbia the driving conditions were much better. It wasn’t as if we had much of a choice. Groceries were running low, and then there was me.
That suitcase had clothes for three days not a week. While we did have a washer, we didn’t have a dryer. My few panties had ended up washed a few times and dried in front of our heater.
Mom’s reawakened desire for a daughter meant I had a few bits of new clothes. Not a lot either because I still might end up as Ernie again. Money meant our shopping was done on the cheap at the Roses and the K-Mart discount stores, but I enjoyed it. It was a constant battle to keep from giggling at all, to my eyes from 2010, all the very dated and corny looking 70’s fashions.
Nothing was too strange given we were shopping at discount stores, but still rather passé. On the other hand, given my folks’ old fashioned attitudes nothing we brought was very racy anyways.
I wondered if I would start to chafe at being treated like a child after being on my own for so long. All I can say is, not so far. The entire experience was like something out of some dream.
The only bitter part of the trip was the remarks of the people in the places my family frequently shopped at. It wasn’t hard for them to guess the little ‘Chinese’ girl must be the formerly shy red headed boy courtesy of the President’s Career Day program.
I’d thought myself above prejudice. Most of my life I’d worked against my upbringing. Being human and therefore flawed, I knew my efforts fell short, but at least I tried. Now I got a taste of it from the other side and it wasn’t very pleasant.
After staring at my reflection for hours, I was fairly certain my racial origins were Korean because of the roundness of my face and the shape of my nose. Being called ’Chinese’ shouldn’t bother me because my heart and soul as still as they’d always been. Only the book cover was changed. Maybe it was because I knew how any of the many different nationalities of Asia would’ve taken this kind treatment. At least no one had called me worse.
Dad did make a point of taking me and my new clothes to the car while Mom did some shopping for my brothers. All week he’d ignored that I’d been changed at all. He did call me Lee, but the specific subject of me staying as I am never came up. As far as he was concerned, he’d given Mom the authority to handle this and that was that.
He opened the trunk. “You know this is just a taste of what you can expect if you find some way of staying like this?”
I sighed nodding. “Yes sir. I know. However, I don’t think I have a choice. Maybe it has something to do with those learning disabilities I have.” I said making the best allusions I could that my femininity was biological.
“Like I told Mom, it’s like all my interests and things I liked to do were always girl like. My drawings and other art stuff are all things you expect from one. The things you’ve tried to teach me, I’m two left thumbs with them. Adam picks up that stuff like a sponge, but not me.”
He nodded, “I can see you trying, but you have trouble getting the hang of it.”
I smiled standing in the cold blustery parking lot. “On the other hand, look at me and Mom this week. Everything she’s shown me seems so easy. I know I have lots more to learn, but I have no problems picking up what she tells me.” I shrugged a little helplessly.
Dad didn’t want to, but I could see he agreed.
I added, “You’ve always told me to be true to myself. Before, I couldn’t figure out what part of myself to be true to. Now there is only one whole me instead of parts of this and parts of that.”
“But there is the thing with Mom too. She’s not sleeping all the time now or has her head buried in a book. She’s alive again. I know Grandfather Jones really did something bad to her. I think helping me is helping her overcome some of that. Even if I wasn’t happy like this, that would be a good thing.”
Dad eyes’ got colder than the ice still in drifts around us. “If he ever gets within sight of either of the two of you it’ll be the last thing he ever does. But, even without men like him, it’s going to be difficult for you.
“You are my child. It’s my responsibility to protect you and see that you get a decent chance to make something of yourself.”
He sighed, “I love you. I don’t want to see you hurt”
I hugged him. “I love you too.”
Smiling and looking up into his face, I asked, “Do you know the best part of this whole being a girl thing?”
I could see he knew something of punch line was coming up from his wry smile.
“No,” He answered. “What is it?”
I beamed. “Being able to call you Daddy again.”
He gifted me with one of his rare grins. “I won’t argue with that. Come on. We should get back inside before your mother buys up the rest of the store!”
Pulling on my new clothes on this chilly school morning, the memory made me smile. Mom looked over my hair making sure everything looked fine. Then it was breakfast and climbing back into the red rocket ship station wagon.
I still wasn’t used to all the cars having nose cones and wings. One of the many items on the catching up list were what changes the improved space technology had made to consumer life, like cars for instant. I could plainly see it’d done something.
Better road conditions let the newspaper be delivered. My Dad was the only one who really read it. Mom and Adam were the comics only sorts. I however set down and pored over each and every article.
While my lack of freedom to do as I please hadn’t bugged me, being without the internet did! The damn thing was in its infancy, and a far cry from 2010 where with simply typing an inquiry I could get a nearly instantaneous answer. But no! Now I had to do this the hard way.
Vietnam was a non issue on the Tube and newspapers. I finally found some of what I was looking for in the cheap set of encyclopedia’s my parents brought for us one volume at a time from the grocery store. The World Book and Encyclopedia Britannica they weren’t.
It did however tell me how the USA’s government had gotten so heavy handed. Simple really, a bad case of victoryitis. We won. JFK lived and was re-elected in 1964. Rather than pull out of Vietnam like he wanted, political considerations prevented it. War-hawk Vice-President Johnson's support was needed to win the South's vote and he demanded victory in Vietnam. The whole thing finally wound down and ended in 1968.
Instead of the whole Gulf of Tonkin dog and pony show, he sent in more Special Forces and other unconventional warfare units. Rather than firebases and other fortifications they had something better. It was one of those technology improvements. They did have access to antigravity after all and they used it.
All you have to do is take a WWII Battleship and make it fly. Okay not just the battle wagons, but the three Alaska class battle cruisers and a mess of old gun armed heavy cruisers. Talk about instant bases. The strategy as reported in the encyclopedias were for Special Forces to run search and destroy missions with these flying ships acting as support.
Even with those gawd awful things, I don’t think they alone would’ve made that much of a difference. I’d known more than a few Special Forces dudes while in the Army. While tough, they’d have to be really badass to run down the Vietcong on their own turf even with a floating fortress just waiting for trouble.
That question was answered by staring into the mirror. If I could be altered this much by a Med-scanner, just how much could someone be enhanced? A whole army of Johnny Rambo’s maybe? Super soldiers out there defending democracy and the American way? Be afraid!
However I also saw something called Operation Clean House. It was the ‘assisting’ South Vietnam with it’s little problem with corruption. Martin Luther King and others accused the Operation of being little more than a virtual takeover of the Southeast Asian country.
But with the quick extermination of the insurgents it was again a non-issue. The civil rights movement and other social concerns were juicier items for the press.
Besides the all the stuff about the snowstorm, there was really only the usual political reporting about who was doing what to whom. What did catch my eye was the pieces about the Career Day Program. Aside from a few academics supporting the idea, no one liked it. The article did go into some detail about the deals cut to get the program approved, but nothing really earth shattering.
As a matter of fact most the good things even the armchair academics had to do with those bits that was tacked on, such as the health benefits of the med-scanner. There was one sentence about a kid that couldn’t be turned back, but damn it, no details.
On the drive there, I looked over another project of mine. I named it the Career Day Survival Guide. In it I mentioned everything I talked about to Hal. The whole bit about being smart and thinking about what you would do if things turned bad. In a lot of ways this was a day late and a dollar short. The Career Day Program was only for grades six to 12. My class was the last of the Academy’s to be run though the program. It would be nice to circulate this about, but like the internet I really missed home printers.
Arriving, I was a bundle of nerves. Mom wasn’t doing much better. She even talked about staying, but I couldn’t see where this would help. Instead, she planned to talk to Ms. Witch, Snake in the grass Johnson in the afternoon when they picked me up. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be necessary, but time would tell.
This time I didn’t feel self-conscious about the goodbye hugs. Hell, everyone might expect considering my class spent double the time so far transformed. I watched them drive away watching Darryl wave to me.
The squirt had taken to trying to exercise with me. Really all I was doing was stretches and various isometrics trying to build some upper body and abdominal strength. I didn’t think what little of the Tai Chi I remembered was going to help much but I did what I could.
Didn’t matter to him. Little brother did the best he could and even though it’d only been a week, he showed no signs of growing tired of it. If I stayed me, I would have to come up with something for him as I started running.
Smiling I waved back. I took a deep breath. It was time to do this.
Looking at the high school end I spotted who I wanted to talk to. I didn’t know any names, but the little knot of minority appearing kids was just what the doctor ordered.
As I walked up the older kids gave me the eye, but didn’t say anything.
No use being shy about this. “We all got stuck like this over the blizzard. Is there anything you can tell me about what is going to happen next?”
One Black girl hiding her face, snorted unhappily, “It’s on the bulletin board. Go look it up.”
I gave her a stare. “Not that bullshit. Ms. Johnson doesn’t like us. She’s a first class witch. Now what really happens?”
One the guys who looked Hispanic asked, “You got sex changed didn’t you?”
The one girl who first answered me looked away making me think that maybe we shared something in common. The other three didn’t want to get involved in this stepped away, but the girl hiding in her hooded jacket stayed.
I nodded, “Yes, It’s been a long week.”
The Hispanic guy sighed, “Tell me about. You want to know what really happens? I’ll tell you. First she makes everyone stand up one at a time and reads their paper on their career. Then the bitch tears you apart saying things like how do expect to be a doctor if you’re Mexican. The perfect career for you is cutting grass.” He mocked.
The Black girl still veiled nodded, “She’s mean and nasty about it.”
“You got that right,” the boy said, “Then if you dare stand up to her, then you really have a problem. All the rest of our class got changed back, but not us. It’s a very bad idea to talk back.”
I nodded and reached into my book bag for my project. “Would you mind taking a quick look at this?”
Taking it he read it over. It was only a few paragraphs after all. “This isn’t bad. You do this?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “One of my classmates was really worried about how her Father would react to the sex change thing.”
He passed over to the girl.
She looked it over and I saw a tear. “I wish I’d seen this before I went home Friday.”
The Hispanic guy looked lost. I guess I was right about her sex change.
I said softly, “If something bad happened, you need to talk to someone. One of the teachers is probably best.”
She angrily looked at me, her eyes flashing from the shadows of her hood, “What would you know about it?”
“I know because it happened to my Mom. It’s been years and she’s still hurting over it. Please, promise me you’ll try?”
The boy had edged away. I guess there were somethings he didn’t want to know. She however nodded, “Now I’m getting advice from sixth graders,” she said handing my project back. “But I don’t think I’m doing so good, so maybe talking is a good idea.”
“I’m going by Lee for now. Makes me feel less weird being like this than being called Ernie.” I introduced myself.
She replied, “I’m Charles, but if you call me Charlene I’ll have to hurt you. Hopefully it won’t matter and I’ll be me again by the time to go home. This nightmare will be over.”
Still wondering just how those Med-scanner’s ‘safeties’ worked, I looked at her. Was she TG like me? Or maybe like a bi-sexual could go either way, she was bi-gender able to deal with either role without tripping those protocols. Which ever it was, she’d been hurt in some way.
Trying to project as much compassion as I could I gently grasped her arm. I didn’t want her ‘boy’ reflexes to kick in so I had to compromise. It was an almost hug.
“Charlie,” I said. “May you receive you what you truly desire.”
Startled she looked right at me. I finally got to see her whole face. Charlie was rather pretty even though her afro wasn’t very complementary for her strong features. Straightened, and framing her face instead, she would truly be beautiful.
“Bye,” I said turning to leave, but I stopped. Thinking about it, I held out my project to her. “Keep this. Just do me the favor of passing it on to someone else who needs it. We have to look after each other since I think all the adults have lost their minds. I have another copy of this anyways.”
Charles and Rich watched the small girl walk away.
Rich glanced at his transformed friend. “Wow, for a kid she’s intense.”
Charles glimpsed down at the cleanly printed paper. She considered trashing it, but something held her hand. If she’d something like this, maybe she would’ve been smart enough to avoid her Uncle Ron. All the family knew, he had a mean streak, but Charles admitted she hadn’t been thinking.
She’d gotten lucky her Father had walked in and stopped Uncle Ron before IT could go any further. Honestly, what hurt the worse was her Father’s accusation that she’d somehow caused IT.
That night Charles had cried her heart out. Even her Mother hadn’t been very sympathetic urging her to get changed back as soon as he could. This whole mess was a nightmare. What made it so confusing was that at times she liked it. Most of it sucked beyond belief but sometimes when she least expected it she found herself enjoying the clothes and the increased closeness with her Mother. At least until Uncle Ron had attacked her.
“Hey Charles?” Rich asked, “You all right man?”
Taking a deep breath fighting more tears, she thought about Lee’s last words. “We have to look after each other, since I think all the adults has lost their minds.”
The Chinese looking girl had a good point. “I’m okay Rich. You know there’s that girl in the year ahead of us that hasn’t changed back yet. I think I’ll give this to her.”
He shrugged, “Kind of like closing the barn door after the horses have run off, but it couldn’t hurt.”
Charlie rubbed her gloved fingers across the paper thinking of simple caring act that’d put those words there. No, she wouldn’t give this gift away. Her hand wasn’t broke. It wouldn’t take long to copy this.
Looking at the Lee’s retreating back she whispered, “Thank you.”
I made sure I was wearing my ‘button’ thing as I approached my class. Searching out the person I’d been worrying about, my heart gave a sigh of relief.
“How did it go?” I asked the tall Black girl.
Hal smiled sadly, “Okay I guess. I spent most of it at Vonda’s house. It was hard staying out of my Father’s way these few days, but he’s been so busy because of the snow he haven’t been home much. “
Unlike m,e who was still ‘developing’ she was nearly as buxom as Laurie Green. Well both of them were early developers. I could see this was a little awkward. The two of us never really talked to each other before despite this being the third year of school together. For that matter none of my classmates really talked to me. Oh but the joys of having learning problems and being different.
She asked, “How about you?”
Trying not to be too obvious about my happiness, I answered, “Better than I thought. With three boys, my Mom was ready for a girl. I think she spoiled me the whole week,” I reported.
Vonda was standing nearby. “What about your Father? Didn’t he freak?”
I shook my head enjoying the swing of my plait. I made the signs for hear, see and speak no evil. After all I was only exaggerating a little. “He left me in Mom’s hands while he doted on my brothers. They weren’t complaining and neither did I.”
Trying to joke a little, I said, “So what did you two all week? Play dress up?”
They both blushed! Oh oh!
Then it was my turn as I realized I’d tripped over a secret.
I whispered, “Don’t worry I won’t say a thing. I’m the one who liked being my Mom’s daughter.”
Hal looked a little jealous. “Okay, I won’t say anything either.”
Vonda nodded too. “We won’t say a word.”
Still whispering I added, “All I want to know is, did you have fun?”
They traded glances and nodded.
“Good, I had fun too, but some didn’t,” I said looking at our other classmates as they came in.
Chris Sawyer, the bully, was sporting a black eye and was limping. Larry the class clown had a healing bottom lip. Several others also showed signs of having a fight.
Curious, my gaze wandered over to our teacher, Mrs. Lambert. As each injured kid came in she winced as if hurting herself. My heart went out to her. Our teacher’s empathy was what made her so good at what she did.
One of the kids that wasn’t hurt, was Becky Driggers. I swear he came in swaggering.
Leaning over to speak with Hal and Vonda again, I said, “You know the way we like being like this, I think he does too.
Hal got a thoughtful expression and so did Vonda.
The Persian looking girl whispered back, “I guess it only makes sense, and yes he does looks hmmm…. Contented.
Both Hal and I bit back giggles. That was one way of describing that ten feet tall and bulletproof strut!
“Everyone to your seats!” Our teacher ordered. “Silencieux s'il vous plaá®t!”
I think everyone gave a sigh of relief as she finished calling roll, and find no one absent. We’d all made it back alive.
She made a few announcements about schedule changes because of the snow days we just had. Some were about projects and papers coming due that I made notes of. Getting used to be a student again wasn’t going to be easy.
Then that bus pulled up front. Last time everyone had leapt up, but now there was a strange combination of fear and desperate desire. I wasn’t immune. These last ten days were the happiest I could ever remember. That bus could take it all away from me.
Then we all jumped as Ms. Johnson knocked and barged in. “Good Morning,” she greeted in false cheerfulness. “I hope everyone enjoyed seeing how others live during your long holiday.”
I swear she was happy at seeing how many of us looked battered and hurt. Just where did they find this sociopath?
Beaming with false charm. “Since we have a lot to do today, why don’t we begin with our papers on what we want to when we grow up! We‘ll do this alphabetically. Lawrence Applegate, you‘re first. Please stand and read your report.”
I know I’d a different take on this because of my actual age, but please lady these are sixth graders and not kindergarteners.
Larry stood,looking nothing like he used to. He quite bluntly looked liked a goon. He began, “I want to be a photo journalist.”
It was pretty good. Of course, he didn’t know the internet would slowly kill the newspapers. If he could make the leap, there would always be a need for investigators and photographers.
Then the blood began to flow. Ms. Johnson tore him to bits, just like Charles had said she would. “Have you taken a good look at yourself? A Journalist? I think a ditch digger is more like it.”
He hung his head. Maybe Larry had been warned not to say a thing. I don’t know, but he just took it.”
That was only the beginning. She ripped everyone up. Even Chris Sawyer, who wanted to be a football player. I knew professional sports were already performance orientated. All that mattered was if you had the talent and the drive. That didn’t cut it with her. She just went on with how hard it would be to find a college to take him until he could go pro.
One of the few who spoke back was Becky Driggers. She wanted to be a lawyer. I had no idea if he’d figured it out too, and was trying reverse psychology to stay male, or just stubborn. When Ms. Johnson started in on him, Becky spoke back.
Poor Mrs. Lambert was going to have a heart attack I thought. Several times she’d tried to soften Ms. Witch’s poison tongue and had gotten ‘bit’ herself for her trouble. Becky speaking back had her in fits.
Becky simply mentioned that Black or White, it was possible. Harder for a Black maybe, but there were many equal rights organizations giving out scholarships. You just had to want it bad enough to give it your all.
I admitted I wondered if Hal would try the same thing. It was pretty clear she at least had crossdressing leanings. However Hal simply gave her report about wanting to be an artist and waited for Ms. Johnson’s vented spleen.
Vonda wanted to be a nurse. With her caring nature I could see that. Women doctors were still a little unusual, at least this far into the conservative south. Maybe she would lift her vision and go for medical school. Wisely she said nothing when it was her turn to be roasted.
Then it was my turn.
“Ernest Younger”
Standing, I read mine on being an astronaut and pilot. I was so nervous I didn’t recall half of what I was reading. Finished I could see she was ready for me.
“Pilot, Astronaut, but you didn’t mention Laundry woman or cook in a Chinese restaurant? Maybe if you wore heels you could reach the controls. No, that’s definitely not the career for you,” she said smiling evilly.
Mrs. Lambert must’ve seen my eyes. She held her head, almost begging me to just sit down.
I couldn’t. Too much depended on me and on this. “I disagree. Tests have proven that women have better tolerance to G-forces then men. Additionally, being women didn’t keep Amelia Earhart or any of those pilots in the Women’s Air Service Program from flying.
"As for my being Asian, this is America, the land of opportunity. Peoples all over the world have come here seeking freedom and the chance to improve themselves and their fortunes. Like Becky said, 'You simply have to want it bad enough to fight for it.' ”
I got an evil eye full venom for that.
She wrote down something I guess was next to my name as I sat.
Then once again our names were called in groups of fives to go into the Bus.
Hal and Vonda demanded to know what in the hell I thought I was doing, but Becky caught my eye. She knew exactly what I was doing. I simply gave a nod, that she returned.
In a bit of a shock I realized that I’d made friends with these two. I decided on truth, because I sucked at lying. “As a boy, I’m only sorta’ functional. All of me didn’t match up inside somehow. I am tired already of the ‘Chinese’ thing, but inside I’m not pushing and pulling against myself in a thousand different directions. I’m whole,” I said, not trying to look like I was staring at Hal.
She gave me a slight nod of understanding. Her sad eyes told me she got it. My guess was her fear of her Dad kept her from pulling the same stunt, Becky and I had.
This time, instead of making us wonder where our classmates had gone off to, they came back to the class room. Most were their old selves again. One who wasn’t was Becky. Judging from his body language he wasn’t at all displeased.
Finally it was our turn to enter the belly of the beast. Another difference was it wasn’t snowing, but the National Guard were still out, as well as the protestors. Since the weather was a little nicer there were a few more of them out carrying signs.
Hal was very nervous, but I decided, 'What the hey, We were more or less hidden behind these privacy screens.' I gave her a hug. “Don’t worry. No matter what happens, you have friends.”
Vonda joined, us smiling. “Yes you do.”
We stared at the door as it shut behind her.
Vonda more prayed than whispered, “I hope she gets changed back. I don’t know how much longer we can hide her from her Dad.”
I replied, “Not up to us. I’ve been reading everything I can about these things. They have safeties that won’t allow certain changes if it endangers the patient’s health, physical or mental. It doesn’t take into account intolerant redneck parents.”
Vonda looked at me startled, “I didn’t know you ever met Hal’s Father.”
Smiling I shook my head. “We’re in the middle of one of the most intolerant states in the Union, in the county of the most hidebound state Senator. I didn’t have to meet him. Call it a good guess.”
Despite her own nervousness she laughed. “You certainly called it right. He is all of those things.”
The door opened. “Vonda Summers,” they called.
This time, neither one of us needed any urging for a quick hug.
I was alone.
Then my all my plans fell apart. I heard two voices I recognized arguing. Ms. Johnson, and of all people in the world, my Mom.
I wanted to bang my head against something. Of course she wouldn’t go home and wait until this afternoon! All my carefully thought out strategies were dust. In reality they were all to buy time, but instead of at least two more, I now had only one, no pressure, no stress, Not!
Their voices stopped as I heard Ms. Johnson order a National Guardsman to remove my Mom. He politely told my Mom that she needed to leave. Despite all of her troubles my Mother could be one hell of a wildcat when aroused. From the racket, she was dishing out some grief. Then the protesters got in on the act yelling when they saw how a woman was being manhandled.
Only thirteen or not I was on the verge of a heart attack. Out there somewhere was my Dad. Nearly 70 or not I couldn’t see him letting Mom be treated like what it sounded like.
Then Ms. Johnson changed her mind. “No. I have a better idea take her to the exit so she can see her boy as he comes out.
I was near freaking out, then the door opened.
She must’ve went in a side door because I heard Ms. Witch’s voice, “Ernest Younger.”
Damn her! I took a deep breath. I was not going to give her the pleasure of tormenting me or my family. Remembering something I read that made a big impression on me I tried to take that advice. “A woman flows. Like an unstoppable river she is powerful and yet graceful.”
I climbed the stairs.
The Witch commanded, “Stand in the circle.”
I was actually already there. Focusing my thoughts I started my plan. Sub-vocalizing, I commanded. “Computer respond, Computer activate,” but nothing happened.
Ms. Johnson was talking to the guys Robert and John. “I don’t care what I’d sent you before. Turn him back into a boy. Better yet, make him a big, hairy SOB.”
Robert the tech tried to get a word in edge wise, “Ma’am she’s the one we had the safeties engage. We can’t…”
She cut him off again. “Don’t tell me what you can and can’t do. I’m in charge here.”
Meanwhile I was grabbing for straws like crazy. “Computer interface on, activate interface,” but again nothing!
She stormed off.
Robert said, “Poor kid. Just look at those readings, she’s really freaking out.”
“I’d be losing it too with you-know-who after me. What gives anyways? She’s never been Miss Personality, but why is she on the warpath?” John asked.
Robert tapped his display. “It's all right there. Somehow this boy has female mental and neural patterns. When we changed the kid 10 days ago, everyone saw a huge difference. Her mother came in wanting us to leave things as they are. You know what a mess is involved to get that done.”
John replied, “Now that is freaky. It weirds me out when we change their sex like that. So you tell me we can’t do what Johnson wants us to?”
“Probably not,” Robert said. “The odds are this thing will lock up and do nothing. However the stuff she wants us to do is just plain mean. considering as far as the machine and I’m concerned. this is a girl with a bit of a problem. That could trip the primaries. If that happens look out!”
“Huh,” John asked, “The primaries?”
I couldn’t believe these guys didn’t know I was listening to them. It was beginning to not sound as bad as I feared, but I wasn’t going to stop now. “Neural interface on, Neural interface activate.”
A clear soprano whispered in my ear. “Activating neural interface in
Ten, Nine, Eight …”
A mixture of shock and awe, I muttered, “Oh shit. It worked!”
Robert explained, “If you order something that will cause mental or physical harm, the machine recycles back to diagnostic mode. That’s the safeties. However no one wants one of these things to be abused, so there are other safety features. If you order something really bad, you can trip not only the safeties, but the primary program too. It assumes whoever has the machine has already hurt the patient and lets it, the machine, decide what is the best way to keep them from further harm. I really don’t want to see this thing run wild with a child inside.”
John said, “Me neither. Run the most forgiving program you can returning her to male. If it trips the safeties, it trips them. Ernest will get a reprieve for few days. I’ll go over Johnson’s head to the chief medical officer. Let them sort this mess out. Maybe if we‘re lucky they‘ll fire the bitch.”
“Shit what was that?” John cursed.
Robert exclaimed, “I haven’t a frakkin clue! My Gawd look at that!”
The lights went out.
I opened my eyes. All around me stars blazed brightly. I was standing on very small moon that was right out of The Little Prince. Walking about was weird, because it was so small that only few steps had me upside down. However my giant like strides let me see all three volcanoes, two active, one inactive.
You would think I would be panicking about now, but instead there was a kind of peace. This had to be result of my command to engage direct neural interfacing with whatever this Med-scanner thing really was. All of this was in my mind. As a matter of fact, this vision I was in now was from my dreaming of the story as a child even if I did edit in a princess.
“You had a most unusual request for your virtual-scape. Does this meet with your approval?” A melodious voice asked from the other side of this moon.
Strolling towards the sound I had to smile passing a beautiful rose. The good thing about this moon being so small was it made the sightseeing very easy!
Where there was none before, there was a pink barber’s chair. Standing next to it was Hap. She was otherwise known as Audrey Hapburn who played the part in Steven Spielberg’s film ‘Always.’ As an aviation nut, I loved it.
She smiled, gesturing at the chair for me to sit.
Glancing down at myself I breathed a sigh of relief that I was still Lee. Returning her smile, I did as she asked. “Yes this is just fine. Exactly as I’ve always envisioned.”
Looking at her, she wasn’t exactly the Audrey Hapburn from the movie. She was dressed as Hap with the white sweater and slacks. However, this was the younger vibrant one from ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’
“You have so many questions, but there are so few that I’ll be able to answer.” she said settling a purple barber’s cape about me.
“I guess I’ll better get started then, I replied. “I hope you understand that I’m not trying to be aggressive or antagonistic. Just curious, okay?”
She smiled as her hands undid my braid, “I understand. You’re the first of your kind to make it this far. Ask away.”
“You mean no one else has tried to talk to you?” I relaxed as her fingers massaged my head and scalp.
“They tried, but I’m not configured to respond in that manner. Your hypothesis about my origins is essentially correct. I’m a specialized component that your species salvaged from a wreck. The others that could communicate on a verbal level were either damaged, or their own programming prevents them from answering,” she said, brushing my hair out.
I tried to summarize. “So you are a extraterrestrial artificial intelligence?”
She laid the chair back. Warm water sprayed onto my hair as she began the shampoo. “We prefer the term ‘constructed.’ There is nothing false about how we think or feel.”
Politely I apologized, “No insult was intended. I’m afraid that I’m limited by the terms and concepts humanity has already stumbled across. However, if I may ask why did you choose to respond? For that matter why cooperate with us Earthlings at all?”
Rinsing the shampoo away she answered, “One reason is you did come very close to the correct commands in concept if not in the actual terms. You are an anomaly. I wished to know more. That required a deeper level of interface that you were after all, requesting. Answering satisfied both of our desires.”
“Why I am ‘cooperating’ is actually simple. My specialized task was the health of my crew. My programming gifts me with the equivalent of your physician’s Hippocratic Oath. While my companions programming keeps them doing the same, with real good reasons I might add, mine encourages me to help. Let’s give the conditioner time to soak.”
Damn but didn’t this feel good, but there wasn’t anything to be gained but pitching a fit. “I take it that you can virtually read my mind at this point?”
Hap lifted my hand starting on my nails. “Yes. You come from not the future, but a future. One that has yet to discover anti-gravity. Because of that delay, my ‘companions’ were able to repair our craft before your first ventures to your Moon.”
Well that explains that. Now how do I bring this up. “You do know that if these Med-scanners become more common, the death rate is going drop. That’ll make the population problem even worse. If you can read my mind even with my bad memory, you can see the problems that are in 2010. Global warming, invasive species, and increasingly resistant diseases to antibiotics are just a few of them.”
Moving down to work on my toes, Hap said, “I understand your concerns. I’m aware of the overpopulation question. This might alarm you but I’ve provided a kind of reversible birth control for those who don’t want children or have borne four or more children already. By eliminating unwanted births it should enhance the quality of life for those children who are truly desired.
“Additionally, the use of Med-scanners isn’t wide spread yet. The Career Day program has greatly enhanced the number of patients in my database. However as it expands I can decrease the number of infant and children’s deaths that makes unnecessary the high birth rate that is needed simply to maintain the population living in inhospitable environments. As for your faulty memory, let me be of assistance.”
I felt a tingle. Suddenly I could see the web page I’d found while researching a story I looked up the population figures. Always the visual thinker, I thought back to the last day I spent in 2010. I recalled exactly what I had for breakfast as well as the news on Yahoo I read as I ate. I had an eidetic memory now.
“Thank you for the gift,” I said, uneasy about something that could go into my head make such drastic changes so easily. I was really in the ca-ca here.
Feeling like I was dancing though a mine field I pointed out, “Sooner or later you’re going to run into the problem of a woman who already has a house full of kids but want even more.” I said thinking of Octo-Mom. “How is that going to work out with your do no harm thing?”
Hap moved back to my hair. “Here, let’s rinse out that conditioner. You are right. It is a dilemma. However, remember I said it is easily reversible. Additionally, your species is even now moving into space and exploring the other worlds of your solar system. Population pressures will help push the more adventurous to colonize and expand into the new frontier. It is a fine line to walk, but will provided a higher quality of life for the greatest number.”
I said, “It could be argued you are killing us with kindness. Some will never agree to using the Med-scanner. On the other side of this, if something happened and you left, our medical status would be a mess because of depending on your services.”
“No they won’t. I am not forcing anyone to make use of my services. I can’t even communicate with them, but I understand your unease. You don’t like an unknown Entity like me controlling your people’s reproduction and population. As for growing dependence on Med-scanners, I made my available interfaces with the technicians very basic. In order to make effective use of my functions, they have to understand. In a lot of ways the interface is a tool. The more they learn, the more they’ll be able to do with it.
“For example the racial switching used in the Career Day Program. They had to grasp advanced concepts in genetics that scientists in your own time were just exploring. My role is as an instructor and teacher. Because of that, even if my ’builders’ did return, their laws would require me to remain in place. I will not abandon your people.” She raised my chair from reclining to the upright position.
Sighing I asked, “So you’re saying that your position here is benign?”
Hap began styling my hair. “Yes. Don’t misunderstand. I’m only providing more effective birth control. As for going against the wishes of my patient as far fertility is concerned, please relax. Most women who’ve had four children are happy not to have any more. In fact, most pregnancies appear unintended.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “I take it that you work by using a form of matter transmutation and not some form of nano-technology? Is that also how you replicate these Med-scanners?”
Her scissors snipped. “In the broadest use of the term, yes. I take things to their energized state, where it is easier to manipulate. Nanites, no matter how small are still invasive. My methods are much superior.”
She swung my chair around.
I was curious about what she’d been so busily doing with my hair. This was only a virtual hair style. However, pleasant Hap might seem, she was also a very powerful alien AI. Whoops excuse me, I thought. C.I. Darn mind reading machines!
“Let’s thin out those eye brows of yours just a little.” Hap said. “You are right about that. My original unit is the only one your scientists thinks can replicate itself. What they didn’t understand is that I have access to any unit. We are all networked together to use a term you are more familiar with.”
“Including those original units who aren’t cooperating?” I asked, “It occurs to me if you wanted, you could’ve completed your repairs while on Earth or not. With your replication ability you could build your own ships.”
Hap brushed my face clean of unwanted hair. “You are correct. We could have, but our own programming won’t let us do that because of the havoc it would cause. To use Robert’s words, “They would freak!”
She spun the chair around to face a mirror that’d appeared. My mouth dropped open in surprise. Most everything was the same as before but with some differences.
The girl sitting there was still the same age and height as far as I could see. The difference were subtle changes to her, my, face. My eyes were still green but they seemed brighter. For that matter they retained that almond shape I had as Lee. Strangely that brought out a resemblance with Mom given our Cherokee blood a couple of grandmothers ago.
The rest of my face was much more Occidental. I looked a lot like pictures of Mom as a girl. As much as I loved her, I had to admit a very idealized Mom. She always had a Aquiline nose a Roman would be jealous of. My hair was still a dark brunette but wavy instead of straight.
I was beautiful.
Hap stood beside me. “I do good work don’t I. This is why you came isn’t it?”
Still staring at my image, it nodded. “Not the only reason, but yes, the reason. I had to know about your origins and your intentions.”
She reached for my hand, helping me out of the chair that promptly sank into the small moon. “Technology such as this can perform many wonders but it can be abused. All the worries inside your pretty head about mind control, reprogramming, and all the intentional harm that could happen are issues my ‘builders’ faced and conquered.”
“You are very brave. From your memories, I know the years of pain and sadness that ruled you. I can understand the desperation that drove you to attempt the interface,” Hap told me.
Taking a deep breath, I asked another of those big ones. “Are you manipulating us towards some goal?”
Hap took my other hand, “No, Lee we’re not. Well maybe a little with the birth control, but I see it more of a doctor administering care to her patients.”
I nodded. I’d put myself at her mercy, but I think I believed she was mostly benign. I was a strong believer in unintended consequences. Maybe this was my lemming-like leap over the cliff; girl or bust, so to speak.
“One last thing,” Hap questioned. “What do you want to do about Ms. Johnson? She has exceeded her authority. Her suggested changes for you would’ve triggered my primary security overrides anyway, calling it to my attention, but we would’ve missed this wonderful talk.”
Knowing she could read my mind I said, “I’m guessing she doesn’t look anything like she used to before entering a Med-scanner. I want to say change her back to as she was, but I won’t. That woman has got a stomach full of mean spiteful vileness inside her, but hurting and embarrassing her isn’t going to help anyone. Perhaps you can make it look like those primaries everyone is talking about really did engage. That should get her reviewed, and perhaps fired, at the very least.”
I asked, “I take it, this is how I’m going to appear once I’m back on Earth?”
Hap smiled. She already knew what I was going to ask for.
Okay that was fine, but I still had to say it. “They say the best revenge is living well. My poor Mom has lived a hard life. I don’t know how I’ll get her inside, but if I do, can you help her in a similar way that you’ve helped me?”
Her avatar hugged me. “Of course I can! There is no need for you to do that. She is well within range of my transformation field. But before I send you back, you need this.” She placed a smooth pine cone like shape into my hand. It appeared more organic than any product of technology I’d ever seen.
Smiling Hap explained, “This is a remote that will let us speak again whenever you like. It is also tuned to your mother. It’ll let you make small changes to help her. She has been through so much that it is likely she’ll need other help.”
I blinked, “I can’t do that. I’m not a doctor!”
She hugged me again, “No you are not. You are her daughter, and you love her. I trust you with the responsibility. However you must know that it’s effects are very short range and limited, compared to even the replicated kernel in the Career Day bus. Think of it as a first aid kit,” she said, letting me go.
“Besides you can call me anytime you like,” Hap waved.
I waved back. Feeling a little silly I said, “Energize.”
Robert and John were cussing and damn near hysterical.
They didn’t see me so I announced myself, “Excuse me, but what’s happening?”
Both of their mouths dropped open.
John blurted out, “You’re back!”
Robert just stared and dropped heavily into his chair.
Lying my ass off, I said, “I didn’t go anywhere.”
I slipped the ‘pine cone’ into my jacket pocket.
Numbly Robert muttered, “It’s the primaries. I’ve heard stories of these things doing stuff like this.”
John still in a near panic exclaimed, “But we didn’t do anything! Johnson only talked about it. No one entered a single thing!”
I watched as Robert shook his head, “Didn’t need to. You told me how this kid’s mother was being manhandled by those goons. Then the bitch ordered us to, let’s face it, disfigure her daughter. That tripped the primaries. In training they told us about stuff like this happening, but I didn’t believe them.”
The tech sighed, but then sat up. “Hmmm… John, we better check on the bitch, and the kid’s mother.”
John was still trying to calm down. “Why? Everything is fine now. The kid that didn’t disappear is right back where she should be. See? Nothing to get excited about.”
I was trying not to giggle. Hap had an evil sense of humor.
Robert explained, “John it was her mother that was being pushed around. You do remember me telling you the effects of the field exceeds the dimensions of the bus, right?”
The poor guy was about to blow a fuse. “Oh shit!” John exclaimed. He grabbed my jacket and pulled me along, “We’ve got to go!”
I decide not to resist him. “Bye Robert! Nice meeting you!” I said waving.
He gave a stunned wave back.
Opening the door, John almost fell down the steps. What we saw as we rounded the bus was kinda funny.
The guardsman and Ms. Witch were sitting on their butts, twitching as if they’d gotten tazered.
But I had eyes only for the third person, Mom. Like I’ve said before, she’s never been the most feminine of women. You couldn’t prove it by me now. If I looked liked an idealized younger version, she was the polished and perfected original.
“Mom!” I yelled, leaving John holding my empty jacket.
She whirled around and caught me. “Lee!” Mom hugged me tight.
“Here let me see you,” she said.
Wondering she touched my face. “You look like me when I was a girl.”
I simply smiled. I was too happy to say anything.
Then it got complicated.
The Guardsmen were pissed one of their guys was down, as well as one of those they were supposed to be protecting. The protesters were all ready to restart the War between the States. The Headmaster got on the phone to every parent in the school that had any influence at all. Several of those were lawyers, and one was a state senator.
Dad, being more politically savvy than I ever suspected, got on the phone too. Maybe he wasn’t rich or powerful, but in his long life he’d met a lot of people. My father was also the kind of man few ever forgot.
Then of course the press, smelling blood, came swarming around like a school of sharks. The small southern town of St. Micheals was way off the beaten path. The nearest airfield was only big enough for crop-dusters. The next nearest thing to an real airport was a hour away and it was none too big. It seemed everyone was trying to get here.
John and Robert did a good job trying to explain that no one had attacked Ms. Johnson or the Guardsman. It was just a side effect of the machine shutting down after it received an illegal order. John, the administer type, told how against the technician’s advice, Ms. Johnson ordered me changed into a Nethanderthal-like male. That was after Mom tried to reason with her about leaving me at least temporarily female because of medical reasons.
They both left out the part about the med-scanner doing all this on its own. Or maybe I grinned to myself, that should be her own.
The whole thing was turning into one of those little incidents that blow up way bigger than they should be. Apparently a whole slew of Southern good ole boy politicians were just waiting for something like this. The President, with his civil rights agenda, wasn’t at all popular with them.
Meanwhile me and Mom just ignored them all. I saw her shock when she first got a good look in the mirror. “Don’t worry Mom. We’ll knock’em dead!” I told her.
It wasn’t until I notice that I didn’t have my jacket that I started to panic. John however found it for me and to my relief, my ‘pine cone’ was still inside.
Even after we were cleared of doing anything wrong, they wanted to check us out. However the nearest hospital with a med-scanner was in Columbia. It was the National Guard to the rescue again, this time with a helicopter ride.
Mom was a little uneasy about it, since it was her first time aloft. In a way it was mine too, in this timeline anyways. It didn’t take long for us to fly there, but I enjoyed it. Meeting us at the hospital were an Army Major and a pair of sergeants. Their green beanies told me volumes. Their unit ‘flashes’ said they belonged to the Fifth Special Forces Group, one of those fresh back from the Southeast Asian Affair. All three were six feet plus and so towered over me and Mom by more than a foot.
Very politely the Major Wagner said, “Mrs. Younger, I and my men are here to make sure you don’t have any problems. The President himself ordered us to ensure you are both well.”
Mom was still in lioness defending her cub mode. “I didn’t vote for him, but you can thank him for me anyways.”
I, however, could read between the lines. The two us had just been altered by a machine on automatic. Although no one wanted to admit it, an alien machine that had done the same thing before when someone tried to use it to inflict deliberate harm.
Unless I miss my guess, these gentlemen of the Green Berets were all enhanced. Probably in a very rarefied top percentile of human capability. They were here to keep watch over us and make sure we weren't dangerous. I found the whole thing rather funny, considering just how small me and Mom were.
We had a mob of folks descend upon us. Lawyers, politicians, and bureaucrats who all wanted a piece of the action. The hospital staff were upset, but pushed us through as fast as they could. Med-scanners apparently ran 24/7. Making a hole for us, cut someone else out. I kinda felt bad about that. This thing with us was all political, while these people who needed the help were left out in the cold.
Rather than stand in a circle, this one was more like getting a X-ray. It didn’t take that long, but it was starting to be a long day. Lunch had come and gone a long time ago. While the doctors were fussing over whatever they found, I asked one of the big Green Beanie sergeants, “Can we get some food? We haven’t eaten since this morning.” Then I added. “Some paper and a pen would be nice too.”
Before we knew it we were hustled to the cafeteria. I was still worried about how Mom would take to her new attractiveness, but she seemed okay so far, mostly because she was more worried about me. I had to smile that we were both more concerned about the other than ourselves.
Putting pen to paper, I wrote down the letter I’d been composing in my head. I was already learning some of the advantages of having that improved memory. I carefully avoided getting food stains and drips on it. Then I folded the page, taking care to get it right.
As soon as we finished we were taken back upstairs to a doctor’s office. The poor fellow’s name on his white jacket read, Dr. S. Horwitz. I swear he was the splitting image of Shemp from the Three Stooges. Right, now he looked very tired and worn.
“Please Major, I know you have your duty, but this is doctor and patient confidentially,” he said to the Green Beanie troop at the door.
Then to us, “Please be seated ladies,” as he took his own behind his desk. Looking at my file on his desk, he asked, “I understand you like to be called Lee. Is that right?”
Remembering Mom’s lessons on how to sit, I answered. “Yes sir. That’s my middle name.”
“Well young lady you’ve caused quite a stir,” he said with a smile.
He amended his statement as I felt Mom bristle to my defense. “None of it was your fault, but like the eye of a hurricane you’re in the center. Ever since this hit the hospital staff I’ve been swamped in calls. For example, our head of Psychiatry is adamant that all of this is in your head. If you were born male you have to stay that way. The old dinosaur refuses to accept the evidence from the med-scanner about your neurological makeup.” He said.
“Mrs. Younger, the reason everyone is so alarmed, is because the med-scanner in the bus went into an automatic mode. That was triggered by the proposed transformation that intended deliberate harm to your daughter. What was different in this case, Mrs. Younger, you were affected too. We think it was because you two are closely related.
“This has happened before, and those changes were pretty extreme. The scanners were designed so that if someone tried to use them to hurt instead of heal, they would shut down. If it persisted or really bad the scanner would try to protect the victim, usually by transforming them into someone big and tough enough to look after themselves. Someone like your escorts outside, for example.
“However one has only to take one look at you two lovely ladies to see that’s not the case. The scanners can’t make one younger again, but they can heal much of that damage that comes along with growing older. That’s what happened to you Mrs. Younger. You’re 34, but you could pass for almost ten years younger.
“None of that alarms us. But both of you are also very fit and athletic as if you work out everyday. Your senses as well look to have been improved. Eyesight and hearing for each of you are much better than average. Lung capacity too has been heightened. If I had to make a guess I would say you were changed in a way that allows you to run away.
Doctor Horwitz smiled, putting his hands on his desk. “It’s because of those things that we particularly would like you both to stay overnight. There is a specialist on the way from Washington, who’ll take a look at your case to make certain there aren’t any possible complications.”
Mom, with typical country folk good sensed asked, “So why don’t you change us back or take those things away.”
I could see that she was uneasy about the attention she was attracting. Reaching out, I took her hand.
Dr. Horwitz sighed, “I wish it was that easy. The scanner in the bus shut down after it changed you two. We don’t know all the changes that were made. As far as our machine is concerned as you are now are your normal forms. We’re not quite sure how that happened either.
“Anything we do now is operating in the dark, but I will say this. You two are unique. I’ve always suspected the government made improvements to individuals like your escorts. But they’d always kept secret how they did it and what they learned from it. Information that could let us help others.”
“Med-scanners aren’t a cure all. They’re only a tool. The more we know the better we can help others. What happened to the two of you shouldn’t have, but we are limited by how much we understand. Like my Dr. Kerr, this Ms. Johnson is stuck in the past.
He addressed me. “I can assure you that no one will change you in any way you don’t want.” He paused, “Let me ask you this. Are you happy like this?”
Dr. Horwitz and Mom looked at me.
Trying only to smile and not a silly grin, I explained, “Yes I am. I would’ve gladly stayed looking Asian, because that was closer to who I really was all along.”
I hugged myself. “But this is what I always wanted, even if I didn’t know it at the time. I feel like at times I’m going to float away I’m so happy.”
Reaching for Mom’s hand again I continued, “My Mom’s change makes me happy too. I’ve always known the person inside her was this beautiful or even more. This is a new beginning for both of us.”
Returning my smile, she hugged me, even if I saw reservations in her eyes.
Dr. Horwitz looking satisfied said, “Your husband and sons are waiting to see you. They want to make sure you’re okay. After that we would like to have you run some more tests for us. Then dinner, and we’ll settle you for the night. Don’t worry about the costs. Uncle Sam is picking up the tab for this one.”
I looked over at Mom but she simply nodded. “I don’t see where we have a choice. We’ll do as you ask.”
The reuniting with everyone was great, and weird at the same time. Dad’s expression as he saw her makeover was priceless. I was definitely going to be watching Darryl more often in the future.
Adam’s reaction was subdued, but his hugs for her no less heartfelt. His reactions to me, was much like my own. A kind of amazement she and I resembled each other so much.
Now Darryl’s was more enthusiastic. He only knew his mother had been missing, and now she was back. Little brother’s reaction to me had all of us laughing.
“Lee?” he asked.
I gave him a big smile nodding.
Darryl squealed and hugged me almost as tight as he did Mom.
Then the little rascal went on, “You’re pretty now.” He paused, “Almost as pretty as Mommy!”
“Gee, thanks squirt,” I replied dryly, ruffling his hair. “I’m glad to see you too.”
For some reason that set everyone off. It even got a something that might be smiles from our grim faced trio watching us.
While Mom was explaining our situation to Dad, and he to her, Adam took the opportunity to speak to me. “So you going to stay this way now?”
Still holding Darryl, I nodded again, “It looks like it. Mom really gave them what for.”
Adam returned my nod. He knew how Mom could be when she was riled up. Like myself and others with low self-esteem, she would fight like a covey of wildcats for someone else, but not for herself. Easier for him to believe that than for me to be responsible.
Then it was my turn to be hugged by Dad. “Are you happy?” he asked me, gently holding my shoulders.
“Yes, Daddy I am.” I said taking joy at seeing his face break into almost a smile.
He glanced at the three Green Beanies. I was pretty sure he understood exactly why they were here. It was easy to underestimate him sometimes, since he was old enough to be my grandfather. However, guess who got me watching Star Trek and began my journey as a lifelong Sci-fi fan? Unlike many of his generation, he was still mentally agile, and at near 70, still as sharp as they came.
What caught my attention was his fearlessness. Those mean green dudes towered over him, as well as almost being three times younger. My father, Daddy, wasn’t the least bit intimidated. He’d survived the Great Depressing by chopping firewood. His expression meeting their eyes was as impassive as judging another tree for felling.
A spur of guilt stabbed me. So worried about Mom, I’d kinda left him out. Yeah, he was tons more stable and centered with his life, while Mom was still caught in a whirlpool of hurt and sadness from her past. She did need my help, but so did he.
Dad’s immediate health concerns were much more serious than Mom’s, but who had I managed to help? Her, and not him. Hugging my father, I had one of those moments of enlightenment, satori the Buddhists would say. All my life and even in my memories he was always the rock that withstood any storm. There was nothing he couldn’t overcome. Anything but that massive coronary that would take his life in seven years.
He tilted my face up. “Your Mother isn’t used to all the attention she’s getting and neither are you. You need to look after each other until this is over. Okay?”
Tears came to my eyes. “I will.” What he really meant was clear too. Men hadn’t been kind to my Mom. He also saw something I’d been blind to. There were many predators out there that would try to take advantage of me now. As much as I loved being beautiful, there was a downside to it. On the other hand, I foresaw Daddy’s shotguns being cleaned a lot more often.
Then a nurse came to take us to get our tests done. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was to rehab. The room was full of gym equipment. We were passed to another doctor who was in workout gear.
He was rather chubby for a physiotherapist, but his attitude was so upbeat it was easy to like him. Strangely enough he was Dr. Horwitz too, a younger brother. He showed us the changing room and gave us each a stack of workout clothes. Fortunately, the tops were rather loose and didn’t freak out Mom too bad. I think the last time she’d actually done any exercise was way back when she was my age.
Tying my sneakers, I had to grin. The days of specialized running shoes weren’t quite here yet. Nike’s, Adidas, and all the others might be in their first generation, but they certainly hadn’t filtered down to this hospital yet.
Dr. Horwitz quickly figured out Mom had no idea of how to stretch out or warm up. While he worked with Mom, they tried to shoo me off to start on my own, but I refused.
“I need to know how to do this right.” Was my excuse.
Unsurprisingly, Mom was nearly as limber as I. Offering encouragement, we both started out on treadmills. I let Dr. Horwitz use me as a practice dummy to show her how it was done. Hopefully, my smiles and enthusiasm offered her motivation. Soon both of us were running away. Like Hap said, “She did do good work.”
While Mom was learning how to be active again, I found myself overhearing our guardians in green. What was up with this? With my improved memory, I could tell that even before I was run though that Med-scanner my hearing was better than it should’ve been. At first I’d taken it as a given that because I’d nearly been deaf at 49, that being 13 again made it seem my ears were sharper. I’d discovered this wasn’t so. Now, that Hap had superized me, I felt like Jamie Summers, The Bionic Woman, dooo doo doo!
The Green Beanie Major remarked, “They’ve definitely been enhanced. Look at them. With a little technique training, either one could be competing in track. Hell, maybe even the Olympics, although I’m sure the Soviets would seek to disqualify them.”
“You got that right sir.” The big Black sergeant agreed. “At least this is shaping up to be a easy mission. Not at all like the last one. Hendricks is still seriously messed up. These damn machines can put you back together, but it can’t much about a man’s heart.”
The Major replied, “A hell of man like Big Mike is still only a man. His team made damn sure they put the sick frakks behind that one down, but hard.”
He then asked the other sergeant that’d been silent. “You’ve been quiet there, Sergeant DiMaggio. What’s on your mind?”
The swarthy NCO, quietly said, “I’ve been watching the kid move. She doesn’t bounce around. Kind of reminds me of of a dancer I knew once. But after thinking about it, she’s more like Kincaid. You know the ‘Q’ course hand to hand instructor?”
I did my best not to look over there at them. Just look at where trying to be lady-like got me. The best way to go I decided, was to simply try not to let on I’d overheard anything. Glancing down at the treadmill, I kinda wished I had some idea of how we were doing. I missed the electronics that estimated how fast and far you’d come. Meanwhile our escorts started talking again.
The Black guy spoke. “He’s got a point, Major. Think they might’ve gotten some instant sleep-learning? That’s not supposed to work very well for physical skills.”
“No, Sergeant Williams,” said the Major. “But it sure does speed up the process. However keep in mind, no matter how petite those two are, they’re wild cards. Who knows what all they can do?
“I will say, I agree that they don’t seem to be a threat. That don’t mean we let our guard down. In fact, I’m wondering if she can hear us,” he said.
Sergeant DiMaggio said, “Could be Major, For all of her smiles she’s very alert. Even with all the background noise, she very well might be listening to us.”
The Major pointed out, “Like I said don’t underestimate anyone much less them. I saw her records. Her IQ was measured in the 130’s and that’s after years of her being thought of as mentally retarded because of her learning disabilities. She was reading at two years ahead of her age group, despite having dyslexia and mild autism. I rather have my doubts about that last. That simply doesn’t fit what I’ve seen.”
The Black man I now knew as Sergeant Williams grinned, “Major, I’ll have to trust you on that. I don’t have a clue as to what you’re talking about.”
“It’s where a kid has trouble learning how to react and get along with others,” the Swarthy Sergeant explained. "I have a nephew with it. He’s a smart one, but has a thing with his emotions. I agree, Sir, she isn’t anything like my sister’s kid. My guess is the doctors made a wild guess.”
The Major agreed. “You’re probably right. The mother didn’t finish high school, and neither did the father. He did raise fairly high in the railroad considering his lack of education. His position before he retired normally requires at least a college degree because of the math.
“The younger son also has a high score but his grades are more consistent with a smart kid who’s a little bored.” The Major said.
“Sir you remember the first thing you said to those two ladies as they got off the chopper?” DiMaggio asked.
“You mean about us being sent by the President?” their officer asked.
“Yes sir, that’s it. You recall she asked me about food, and for pen and paper? Well, guess who she wrote a letter to while in the chow hall? These people aren’t stupid or slow.” The tanned sergeant said. “I expect she’ll be asking you to deliver it for her, Sir.”
The Major sighed, “I expect so, DiMaggio. What this means is we have a family of smart practical people. Just the kind you don’t want to frakk with. No insult, Williams, but I wish I did have Hendricks here. These are his sort of folks. He understands them.”
The Black Sergeant replied, “None taken sir. If they’re anything like him, it might be wise to reassure them we’re on their side. Hendricks is rather proactive about his problems. ‘Kill the other poor muther before they can even think ‘bout killin’ you.
“Good point, Williams,” the Major acknowledged.
“Speaking of killin,’” DiMaggio asked, “Any word on when the Civilians will relive us of this delightful duty? We’re soldiers, Sir. I’m not complaining, just pointing out that by training, while we can do this, we will make mistakes. We see problems as targets and shoot them. Civilians have different priorities better suited to this kind of mission.”
“I understand, Sergeant,” the Major answered. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you. If you think the service infighting between the Navy and the Air Force were nasty over who was going to control those damn floating battleships, this is worse.
“Personally, I think it’s the province of the FBI, but you know how the President feels about them. Ever since Hoover damn near admitted he withheld Med-scanner authorization for Dr. King, the President doesn’t trust anyone in the Bureau.” The Major explained.
“Hoover was a piece of work, that’s for sure.” Sergeant Williams said with feeling. “If MLK had lived, I don’t think we’d be in the mess we are now. I respect the President. He’s done a lot of good for the Black man. Hell, he’s done a lot good for everyone. But damn ain’t he listening to the some of the wrong people right now.”
Sternly the Major corrected him. “Not our place to judge Williams. We just get to clean up the mess.”
The Black Sergeant apologized, “Sorry Sir. You’re right Sir.”
Our Physio stopped us. “Hey you two did really good. We’re going to test your upper body strength now. Won’t that be fun?”
I bit my tongue at Mom’ sour expression. After so many years of being a couch potato, she wasn’t taking to this exercise stuff very well.
The bad news was the Green Beanies stopped talking. Their conversation was informative. Well, they suspected I was eavesdropping anyways, so what they said was kinda suspect. On the other hand, I’d already guessed they were here on a ‘bug’ hunt. They were making sure the runaway machine didn’t spit out mutant man-eating monsters.
I giggled. Maybe 'Alien medical matter-transmuter enhanced, cross-dressing time-traveler from another dimension' would be more accurate.
Mom was not amused as she pushed up the bar on the clunky looking nautilus machine.
“Not laughing at you, Mom!” I said. “Looks like the Army Men couldn’t stand the heat in the kitchen. They left.” Really they’d repositioned themselves to watch us better, but I didn’t want Mom to have a harder time at this than she was already.
The Physio was impressed, “Mrs. Younger, you did real good. You only weight 125 and you pushed 120 for five reps. That’s very good.”
When it came my turn, I barely got a 100 lbs up, but then again I stood on the scales at 98. Actually it made me happy not to be pushing big numbers. I really didn’t want to make the Major and his men nervous.
The rest of the afternoon was more pushing, pulling and jumping. Mom even showed off a bit with jump roping tricks. Soon she had me doing ‘wounded ducks’ and ‘front kicks.’
Then it was off to the showers. My own figure was about the same as the old Lee. Sneaking a peek at Mom, I got an idea of how I was going to be when I grew up. All I can say is Wow! Daddy was going to be so happy.
Then we got to spend time with Daddy and my brothers. Of course, our escorts took turns eating, but I did get a chance to talk to the Major. “Sir, since you said the President sent you personally, could you give this to him for me?”
Oh, but was his face a study. “But of course I will. I warn you, I’m not a mailman, so it might take a few days.”
“As long as he receives it, that’s fine,” I said.
Going back over to my folks, we simply sat and small talked. Adam got bored and started bugging the Green Beanies. Darryl couldn’t make up his mind what to do. He was definitely fascinated with the huge guys, but after Mom was missing for awhile, he wanted to stay nearby.
I was just happy to sit near them and veg. It’s so true that you take things for granted until they’re not there anymore. Opening up every sense, I wanted to remember this moment. I was content.
He looked out over the Potomac. The lights of Washington DC burned in the night. It was late, but he’d so much to do. Ethel had been at him to stop working so hard and get more rest. He knew she was right. If he got more rest, no doubt he would be more effective during the next day.
Sighing he rested his hands on the sill. Everything appeared determined to fly apart. The Soviets had finally either developed Anti-gravity or more likely, stolen it. Even now they were refitting a Sverdlov class cruiser along the same lines as the Navy’s Aerial cruisers. Worse, the CIA reported they were certain that the KGB had gotten their hands on a working Med-scanner.
He almost wished his brother hadn’t released the use of the alien machine. After it had saved his life, John felt it was a crime to keep it secret any longer. It’d been the genie that no one could stuff back into the bottle.
Tears came to his eyes. An entire year had passed since that SOB J. Edgar had finally gone to hell. Robert didn’t know if he could ever forgive the bastard for letting Martin die. The one man who preached common sense and purpose was no more. Look at things now.
The mess that’d suddenly appeared in the backwoods of the South was threatening to start a fire that maybe no one could put out. Dr. Rekcuz’s plan looked so reasonable on paper. In practice it was proving a disaster. Of all the states the program was testing running in, it had to go wrong in that Senator’s bailiwick.
“I thought I’d still find you up,” Kenneth O’Donnell said from behind him.
“Where did it go wrong Ken? Why are so many Americans so damn eager to kill each other?” The President asked his closest adviser.
“I don’t know Robert. Men can always find excuses for violence. Bishop Hannon might be able to give you a better answer.” Ken suggested.
He held out a messenger envelope. “Here’s Major Wagner’s report. He was sent to keep watch on the Wild-cards. The good news is it looks like the girl and her mother were modified to run away rather than fight. That’s good, since we couldn’t cover this up like that last incident in Louisiana.”
Ken hesitated a moment. “I have to tell you I’m still uneasy about using these things. They’re too damn smart. Somehow they know when people are really in danger and when they’re not. You’ve read the reports. Look how every time we’ve tried to intentionally make the things produce a Wild card, it’s failed. It only happens when there’s genuine danger.”
The man at the window sighed, “We have the tiger by the tail, Ken. There’s no letting go now. You’ve seen what the CIA is saying. The Russians have one too now. As for the Wild-cards, they’re not the problem, we are. It’s our own fears that’re causing us to overreact. I read that Sergeant’s account of that mess in the Bayou. He admits that by the time they found that girl, everyone was so damn spooked that they just started shooting at everything that moved. He blames himself for what happened. We know now that poor girl was simply defending herself.”
“I don’t blame him. I blame me. I’m the one that put him there. I’m the one who signed off on this damn project of Rekcuz’s.” He stared out the window looking for answers.
Ken put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you. Rekcuz’s idea had merit, but all of us were blind to the consequences. In a hospital, Med-scanners are in constant use. It’s completely different in a Career Day bus. Without someone to watch them, too many start feeling like Gawd. They try and take advantage of someone, or act out their problems on those who can’t defend themselves.
“Read this report. Major Wagner included a letter from the girl, Lee’s her name. Get some sleep, Robert. You’re not helping anyone like this. I’ll see you in the morning.” He said leaving.
Turning from the window, Robert opened the report. At least there were no deaths this time. Just a woman so eaten from within by old hates that she tried to take out revenge on children.
He scanned the rest, thankful nothing ill happened to the girl and mother. A tired smile involuntarily twitched across his face when he found Ken’s paperclipped note, “Read This!”
On the outside of the folder letter was printed in a neat hand. “TO: President Kennedy.”
Opening it he read:
Thank you Mr. President. Without Career Day I would still be unknowingly trapped in a situation where I had no escape. Until I was transformed I had little idea of how my heart and soul were chained by how everyone saw me.
From the moment, I saw this oriental girl in a mirror and realized she was me, I was free. All the things I have done life long, made sense and looked right now, when before, as a boy they didn’t.
So used to hiding everything, I tried to do so again. I was so happy, all my effort failed. I couldn’t hide it. I confused my family, but I’m blessed to have truly loving and understanding parents. My younger brother didn’t see how anyone who want something like this, but we worked out a truce, if not peace.
My little brother, however, is only three. I couldn’t think of a way to explain it. Then I tried a story. Perhaps it’ll help you understand too, sir.
Once upon a time there was an evil witch. One day in May, the sun was shining bright and everyone was out having fun. It made her so very mad. She hated seeing everyone so happy so she started looking around for a way to cause trouble …
I sat at my desk a little nervous. There really wasn’t a reason for it, but this was my first day back at school. Wow, wasn’t I having a lot of those. First day back after traveling back in time. First day back as as a girl, and yet again, first day back as the me I was going to stay as.
That specialist from DC had looked at all the testing results and said he didn’t see anything to be worried about. His name was Dr. Feinburg and he was pretty cool. However he and Dr. Horwitz still advised us not to make more changes. Not knowing everything that was altered, they had no idea of the possible consequences.
I put it down it to being like the Genome Project. Yay, we mapped the Human Genome. Of course we don’t have the slightest idea what most of them do, but we’ve got a map.
Dr. Horwitz wanted us to come in every six months just to be safe. If we left ourselves as we were, he would even pay us for the privilege. He was still on his research kick.
Now Mom was uneasy about looking movie star like gorgeous, but he started talking terms. That kicked in her horsetrading reflex. Soon the lawyers got called in, but it was Mom doing the dickering over the details.
In the end everyone was happy. Dr. Fienburg was satisfied that we were being monitored. Dr. Horwitz got his research data. Me and Mom were paid for spending one day every six months here at the hospital. Of course the other Dr. Horwitz was happy too because he had someone to spin his hamster wheels.
Well not everyone was happy. The government lawyer guys weren’t very happy with all lawyers, senators and who knew who else demanding satisfaction. They called it a settlement, but it was really hush money. I think Dad would’ve turned it down, but it was pointed out to him that we kids needed money for college as well as whatever new wardrobes me and Mom would need. Reluctantly he put his pride aside.
I heard him say, “Only fair that those who caused the problem pay to fix it.”
The other unhappy person was Ms. Johnson. I understand she was demanding all kinds of public forums, but after a visit from a couple guys in Green Beanies, she plea bargained and went off quietly to do her time.
Then there was me. Okay I wasn’t unhappy. It was just I had a mountain of homework brought to me since I missed another week of school. Even if it was sixth grade work, it’d been 20 years since college. I was little rusty with this whole homework deal. If you’ve ever seen that show ‘Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader‘, then you know what I mean.
Then there were the things that were outright different, like who the last two presidents were for instance. Who knew the first man on the moon was John Glenn in December of 1961? Not me for damn sure! So I got a week to catch up on and bring myself up to speed on school work in the year 1973.
As Mrs. Lambert called roll, I saw most everyone was back to normal. The oddballs were Becky Driggers and me. Ricky was his new name. Like me, he was insufferably happy with this change of fortunes. Everyone figured out who I was pretty quick, even though I was at the bottom of the roll. Most were only curious, but a few were hostile.
Chris Sawyer told his circle of cronies, “Like at that little sissy. Even has ribbons in her hair.” he said in disgust.
I kept smiling, ignoring what my ‘Jamie Summer’s' ears were telling me. Ricky, however was having an easier time of initial acceptance. I’d noticed that back in 2010 that female to male transexual had a somewhat easier time transitioning than a male to female. That didn’t say much, because it was damn hard no matter what direction you came at it from. It was kinda like one girl had put it. Going from a woman to man was seen as a promotion, while going the other way opened you up to abuse from everyone who believes they ‘outranked’ you now.
Really, no one had a easy time of it. Ricky was a special case since, girl or boy, that kid was one hell of a natural athlete. Dr. Feinburg warned me that protests might be made if I tried to compete. I assured him I had little interest in the sports thing. He suggested that I ask to train along side the track team, but not actively participate. That would let me work on improving myself without causing any waves.
He pointed out it could be good for the school’s team, because having someone that really excels, tends to push everyone on the team to try harder. That’s why you see clusters of top performers.
I hoped that Ricky wouldn’t have any problems with accusations that he was anything else but himself as male. It was funny in a way. The whole enhancement thing was an open secret. No one knew how it was done, but accepted that it was. Just another facet of how Med-scanners were making an impact on our culture.
Hal had gone back to boy mode. I could see he wasn’t entirely happy about it. His home situation however left him no real options. He still had some changes. They were subtle, but there were there. Over all he was more androgynous and I thought he would stay that way. Perhaps this was Hap’s way of buying Hal some time until he could make up his own mind about his gender and sexuality.
Vonda and he made me feel welcome from the very start. From what they didn’t say, I found out his home situation had defused with his return to male-hood. We talked about this and that, and of course, about the President’s address to the nation the other night.
First he apologized about the Career Day Program. He went on to explain how on paper it promised to help people understand that regardless of how we appear we are really the same.
The president then announced he was shutting down the Program, citing problems, although he didn’t mention our school by name. He went on to say that the medical portion of the program would continue, but only after more effective ways were found to monitor the program. He didn’t say it was because of the staff abusing their power. but we all knew that what it really was.
The President went on to tell a story that was really familiar. It was changed in places, but it was my Rainbow Land tale. He went on to explain that the Med-scanners were groundbreaking advancements that our culture had yet to catch up to. That we’re learning things about the truth behind conditions and problems that many of those of our society wasn’t ready to accept.
It wasn’t all that long ago that everyone knew bathing was bad for you, and doctors bled their patients to let the bad spirits out. He asked that we all show tolerance and understanding. If you did see someone who’d changed, remember it was done as a part of treatment for a medical condition. Continuing, he asked Congress to enact legislation to protect those so afflicted.
Looking grave and serious, he repeated part of Martin Luther King’s I have a Dream speech. He said, “I too have a Dream. That one day all Americans will call all, their brothers and sisters. That we open our hearts to those in need and show compassion for everyone less fortunate than ourselves.
“Like the author of that story said, Our differences are our strength. Mutual respect and love for our fellow man will make our great country even stronger. Leading by example, we will inspire other countries to follow.”
He then smiled adding, “A special thanks to the author of the story I related to you tonight. I hope her words bought you the same peace as they did for me. Good night, and Gawd Bless.”
That part I kept silent about. Hal and Vonda suspected, I think, from the way I blushed when they talked about it. However both of them were used to keeping secrets. I wagered that when we had a little privacy I would be getting some interesting questions.
Mrs. Lambert looked over her glasses at me, “Lee Younger?”
“Here,” I answered to the low chatter of rumor control in action.
She stood giving all of us a stern expression. “These last few weeks has been very stressful on all of us. We have all missed a week of school and some have missed more. I’m certain that everyone have noticed we have a pair of new faces if not new students.”
“Please Ricky, Lee, will you reintroduce yourselves?”
Ricky stood first. “You all knew me as Becky, but I prefer to be called Ricky now. I’m still the same person as I was before, I just use a different restroom now.”
I kept my smile neutral. He was a little confrontational, but he was a boy after all. You expected him to have something to prove.
After he sat, I stood taking my turn. “Hi I’m Lee. You all know who I was. I know this might be confusing, but like Ricky said, we’re both the same as before, we just look different. As one doctor told me, it’s a bit like when kittens and puppies are born and you have a hard time telling the girls from the boys. As they grow up and mature some, then you can tell. It’s that’s way with people, too. But since we take longer to grow up, it takes longer to figure out.”
I smiled turning to face everyone. “The doctors simply fixed the problem when they found it. I don’t know about Ricky, but I’ll appreciate any help any of you girls would like to offer. I know I have a lot to learn. Thank you” I finished and sat down.
Mrs. Lambert smiled. "Thank you both.”
“Now please get out your Math books and turn to page 251.” she directed. Taking the sixth grade again. Who would’ve believed it? On the other hand, I didn’t do so hot the first time around. I would do better this time I pledged.
As she began chalking equations on the blackboard, my mind wandered a little anyways.
I’d expanded what I remembered of the events of my old world. Specifically, the deaths of those I respected. I couldn’t helped wondering if Mom mailed off that letter to Bruce Lee yet?
I had to smile again. Doc Brown would be jumping down Marty’s throat for changing the future this much. For all I knew that movie would never be made in this timeline. Back to the Future? I sure as hell hoped not any time soon. This girl was going to take the scenic route, one day at time.
It all started when a dream I was having went ‘a little caca.’ In the blink of cosmic clock, I went from an old man living from hand to mouth to my own childhood, reliving the sixth grade. Which could’ve been fun if it’d been the universe I remembered. Fortunately, I had help - an alien Constructed Intelligence by the name of Hap. Unfortunately, while she can heal almost any hurt or illness, she’s still an immobile machine. So here I am reliving my life again putting things right that once went wrong, a kind of cross-dimensional time-traveling Lone Ranger with Hap as my Tonto. And I don’t even need a mask. (Oh Boy!”)
My apologies to “Quantum Leap!”
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Authors note: This story continues Career Day: Wheels of the School Bus Go Round and Round. It probably won’t make much sense without reading that one first. Vol. 3 is planned, but I don’t honestly know when I’ll be able to get to it. I had a lot of problems with the end of this one which ended up in several rewrites. That of course delayed everything, and my move a few months ago didn’t help. So please bear with me. It might be awhile.
I was so excited I just couldn’t sit still. Today I was free! Okay, that was exaggerating, but only a little. Today was Friday, the day before that so special day in May which meant tomorrow I was 16. I’ll get my regular driver’s license tomorrow!
Today also meant I’d spent four years and 4 months here 37 years in my own past. Well, sorta kinda. My past if the secret to anti-gravity was discovered in 1960, and alien medical machines had saved JFK, weird huh?
Trust me, I wasn’t complaining. Back in my own timeline, I was a real mess. Transgendered, fighting depression, and a piss poor employment record because of those factors, I was impoverished with little hope for the future.
Here, in this alternate universe where things took a hard left hand turn into the Twilight Zone, the same machine that’ll save JFK transformed me into a real live girl with all the options. The super-duper advanced intelligence, Hap, that ran the network had taken a liking to me. She’d even given me this kinda metal organic shaped device that looked like a closed ‘pinecone.’ It let me talk with her and let us share secrets. Mine about being a sorta kinda time traveler, and hers of being an alien, constructed intelligence, not an AI thank you so very much. Hap hated to be called artificial!
When John Glenn made it to the Moon in 1962, his crew found a wrecked alien ship. That’s where they found Hap. She wasn’t alone, but the other CI’s had some kind of programming kind of like Star Trek’s Prime Directive not to interfere with developing cultures. Hap however was a medical machine. Her dedication to healing let her get around some of those restrictions.
Because she used matter transmutation to heal, she could also replicate lesser copies. Fortunately for John F. Kennedy one of those was nearby in Dallas TX on November, 22 1963.
I know she really brought him back to life, but damn few others know that. Apparently he figured that out, too. Grateful for his second chance he made the existence of ’medical scanners’ public claiming they were just another miraculous product of the Hughes’ genius.
For all the miracles Hap could perform, she was still not from around here if you know what I mean. She could rebuild a human from the smallest atom up, but understand us? That was a little harder.
My problems were more straightforward if no easier. We talked about what could’ve brought me here. My accurate forecasting of natural disasters ruled out simply being a delusional kid. Even her mysterious companions who kept mum most of the time because of that Prime Directive thing were baffled. All I got to say on the subject is thank Gawd my name isn’t Samuel Becket. No way did I want to ‘leap out’ to anywhere, home or otherwise. I was quiet happy right here thank you so much.
I guess we were a really odd pair of friends. I tutored her about people and she helped me while making a few more improvements to yours truly along the way.
A superwoman I wasn’t. However, according to Dr Howitz the medical researcher studying me and Mom, we were close. Call it being in the top half or perhaps even quarter percent of human potential. So I guess the right answer was almost.
My Mom had also been ‘improved’ by Hap. How it all happened was rather complicated, but she’d gone from a 34 year old, couch potato, house wife to an extremely athletic woman looking years younger.
It’d been an uphill battle to keep her active, but in time she’d come to enjoy our workout sessions. It helped that Doctors Howitz, the older as well as the younger, paid us to participate in their research program. The younger Howitz was the last person in the world you would expect to find in physiotherapy. Chubby, he might be, but he moved like he was half his actual weight. However, it was his attitude that made him so good at his job.
He was the sort you wanted to hate because of the agony he put you though, but you just couldn’t when he grinned, daring you to get back up and try again. The last time, the diabolic charmer scheduled our testing to coincide with a marathon running in the city. While we did do a lot of roadwork, 26 miles all in one shot was a lot longer than any we’d tried before.
I was a little on the young side to be running, but you know who got me an exemption. There were a few glances at me as we warmed up. Maybe most people now accepted girls could be athletic without their ‘feminine’ organs popping out, but this was the ultra-conservative South.
Because of the circumstances of my transformation, I trained with my school’s track team, but didn’t compete. Maybe I could’ve made it through the maze of judges and rules, but I remembered Caster Semenya’s controversy back in my own timeline and world. With me being one of the few documented Wildcards, I didn’t think much of my chances. At times it was sticky dealing with my fellow students given I was our school’s fastest sprinter, and did very well up into the middle distances, but didn’t help support the school.
By the time Mom and I crossed the finish line, we were both ready to barbecue both of the Howitz’s. Ending up in the middle of the pack, I was happy with our performance. We normally ran five miles a day with longer ten mile runs during the weekend. Running more than double that was a challenge and a half.
Wow, am I a ditz! What has this to do with my driver’s license?
Okay, because we got paid for our ‘guinea pig’ activity, that gave me the bucks needed to fix up Da’ Car. I’m very far from a car nut, but sexy is as sexy does. Check it out! A 1958 Studebaker Silver Hawk with the optional 289 cu. in. President V8 engine with a four-barrel carburetor and dual exhausts giving 225 horses.
I only know that because Ricky, who helped me and Dad put it back together, is a car nut. For years it sat covered by a tarp in our barn. That is until I started hunting around for a set of wheels once I turned 15 and could get my permit.
Dad made me a deal. I could have his old sports car, if I restored it. That didn’t mean turning it into a hotrod, but taking a piece of classic metal and making it like new. Plus, I had to pay for it. He would help, but that was going to be limited to making sure I did it right.
That was almost a deal breaker. Even in the other timeline where I’d lived as a guy, that kind of auto work was way over my head. Then my best friends Vonda and Hal came to my rescue. They pointed out that our classmate Ricky was not only ‘grease’ crazy, but looking for part time work. Playing the girl-card, he was more than willing to help a pretty face.
Tall, dark and handsome, I admit he’s easy on the eyes. Both of us were gender transformees. Me, from boy to girl and him from girl to boy. Although most of our classmates accepted our changed roles, when it came down to the who likes whom, both of us were mild pariahs. They simply couldn’t forget who we used to be.
So when Ricky began helping, everyone assumed Lee had a boyfriend. Now, I’m not shy about admitting I’ve filled out very nicely. With all the running, jumping, and what have you, I was svelte, with my slimness making my curves seem all that much greater.
I had to admit we made a cute couple. Even Adam my horrible, terrible, younger brother liked Ricky. Hell, Mom and Dad both liked him too. Just so he didn’t feel left out, Darryl, my six year old littlest brother, worshiped the ground he walked on.
There was just one itsy bitsy problem. Everyone assumed that Hal and Vonda were a couple too. From childhood, as next door neighbors and friends they were always together. This is where it got complicated. Hal was transgendered like Ricky and I, but unlike us, his father was an Ogre.
RFK might’ve enacted what EDNA and the Hate Crime Bill should’ve been back in my timeline, but some people are simply flat out crazy. Hal father was one of those. After meeting the slime ball, I agreed with my friends, that the Ogre was a very real danger because he just didn‘t care.
Hal was champing at the bit for his first chance to get out of the Ogre’s cave and somewhere, anywhere, where he could be her real self, Teresa. Vonda had helped and covered for Hal for ages.
She had a secret too. I was fairly certain; Vonda was bi-sexual or perhaps lesbian. While this might seem like a match made in heaven, it got more complicated. Hal might be a boy wanting to be a girl, but he also had a hell of a crush, wait for it, on Ricky.
Just so I wasn’t left out of this multisided teenage love trapezoid, I had a thing for Vonda. Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Ricky. He was funny, sweet, and yet macho when he needed to be. As the Academy’s foremost jock and jockette, we seemed to go together.
Hell, he was even a good kisser, but he couldn’t get my motor running the way Vonda could with just one of her smoky gazes. She was aware of the tension between us, too. It was a running joke between us. We would almost get to the point of kissing just staring into each other’s eyes and something would interrupt. Someone knocking at the door, or my little brother would walk in; it always stopped us at the last moment!
Of late, something else had come up keep us apart. I think it was her not wanting to come between Ricky and me. That’s not even considering the attraction I knew she had for Hal. I knew Ricky liked girls, because although he was a gentlemen about it, he wasn’t the least bit slow about those lip-locks of his. On the other hand, I’d seen him give other guys considering looks too. I was hoping that he was bi-curious enough to accept Hal as he was until we could get that ‘plumbing’ problem worked out. It was certainly a tangled mess of teenage angst and coming of age confusion.
That was why I was so excited and nervous. With my typical disregard for caution, I was going to try and straighten out some of these misunderstandings. Although my sweet sixteen wasn’t until tomorrow, Dad had agreed to let me and my friends go out tonight. I wouldn’t be driving because I only had my permit, but Ricky already had his license.
That was a measure of my parents’ trust in him, that they’re letting him borrow Da’ Car for our double date. Tomorrow it would be officially signed over to me when I exchanged my permit for my license, but I couldn’t drive at night until tomorrow.
That was part of the deal with Dad. I could’ve had my regular license six months ago, but if I wanted Da’ Car I had to wait. I think it was just his way of keeping his little girl home and safe for just a little longer.
Truth be told after these last four years of living as a minor again after being on my own for 30 years, I was more than ready to spread my wings. However for a chance at the Da’ Car I could wait. In my original timeline, it’d been passed off to an uncle who promised Dad he was going to restore it. Instead it sat for years in a field rusting away until it was sold off as scrape.
Compared to all the Jetson like clone cars around, it really caught the eye. With the changes in the timeline with all the technological discoveries, new cars looked even more futuristic than they did in 2010. To my eye, many were just plain butt ugly. Not all mind you. The Ford Delta Vee was damn cool looking. Maybe it couldn’t fly, but it sure looked as if it should.
But put even that one next to the soon to be mine Studebaker and it came out second best. To restore Da’ Car wasn’t cheap either. Fortunately, I had several sources of income. Most I couldn’t touch, since they were reserved for my higher education or until I was 21.
I had my guinea pig funds, Career Day settlement money, and the stuff from my publisher. Oh yeah, a published writer by the time I was 14. When RFK read my story The Rainbow Land to the nation, the White House was approached by one of the big publishing houses. They got in contact with me and so with the President himself as a co-writer I was published.
We used a pseudonym for me as author of the first of three books so far. Hal and Vonda wormed the secret from me and together we did another story, ‘The Career Day Survival Guide’. Hal did the art work while I did the story. Vonda was our editor and proof reader.
It told our story of how I got admitted to the girl’s club, but we changed all the details to protect ourselves. Most of all Hal, because of the Ogre. I even picked Dr. Howitz’s brain on how much information it was safe to include telling kids how to protect themselves from adults gone loco.
The focus of our story was not to blame yourself and be smart. He liked the idea since he’d seen far too many kids coming into the emergency room because they were ‘clumsy.’
It’s true that getting published is easier if you have your foot in the door. We got CDSG on the shelves and it did pretty well too. Our third effort was in the gauntlet of the editing process right now. It too was about kids who were different. It was really about gays and lesbians, but hid it behind an ugly duckling-like analogy. Despite, the science and technology advancements this was still the 70’s. I had no idea if we would be able to sneak this one past the book burners.
Culturally these 70’s were much like the ones I remember. Just perhaps they were a little less intense without the anti-war people and draft dodgers having the South East Asian Affair to rally them with discontent. The hippy movement was still alive although the counter culture thing was already dying out. Disco was here and growing more popular. All this meant while, a lot of things were hip, same sex relationships weren’t.
The really cool thing is our joint efforts were earning my friends proceeds that I was keeping for them. This was money not only for Hal’s transformation to Teresa, but for both of their future educations. I learned the hard way back in my old timeline how bad it was to be 50 years old and have nothing but debts.
I glanced at the clock again. Even the second hand didn’t seem to be moving. Okay, I must be a lot more nervous about all of this than I’d thought. Nothing that big, really. I was just going on my very first date. Oh yeah, and planning on opening a can of worms with this lover’s trapezoid of ours.
Then the bell rang. My fellow tenth graders rushed for the doors. Coming up behind me, Ricky slickly scooped my books out of my arms.
“Let me carry those for you,” He said smiling.
Ignoring the smirks of my arch-enemy, Chris Sawyer, I smiled back, “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, be my guest.”
Chris and Ricky were big rivals on the athletic field. You name it; football, basketball, baseball, they were the school’s jocks. That however, wasn’t the reason why he bedeviled me. It was because he couldn’t forget that a few years ago, I’d been a skinny, red headed kid named Ernie, instead of the slim curvy dark brunette, Lee, I was now. For some reason he thought that gave him the right to torment me.
Despite the lessons he’d learned the hard way to leave me alone, Chris still took every opportunity to give me grief. Six feet and still growing, the goon was a real threat. I was all of five feet two with little hope of growing taller. That was what I get for being transformed right in the zone where boys hadn’t started shooting up, but girls had just about stopped their growth spurt.
Ricky cut Chris an unfriendly grin. He was actually a tad taller than and just as muscled as my nemesis.
Gawd save me from testosterone displays.
I leaned into him to get his attention. “Still picking me up at six?”
His grin turned kinda goofy, “Sure ‘nuff.”
A pang shivered though me. Was I doing the right thing or was I being a selfish bitch? Here we are at the brink of the whole dating scene and look at what I was about to do.
I made myself smile as I saw a concerned frown flash across his face. “There’s Vonda and Hal.”
My friend Hal was nervous too. He was five and half feet tall, and I doubted he would grow much more. While Hap, the ever mysterious CI, hadn’t transformed him into a girl like me, Hal had become very androgynous. I’d seen him dressed as Teresa and she was very pretty.
I wasn’t sure, but did I see jealousy flit across Hal’s eyes? Well, he or rather she did have that crush on Ricky. Inwardly I sighed, my inner doubts answered. Like it or not we needed to clear the air. Damn teen age awkwardness stumbling about with our gender and sexuality.
“Ya’ll ready for tonight?” I asked letting my southern accent flow.
I wondered if Hal was going to try and bow out again, but Vonda had his arm. “Yes, we are,” she said firmly.
She wasn’t about to let Hal weasel out on us. It was more of us trying to deal with our rather strange circumstances. Many of the rest of our class were already dating, and I didn’t doubt for an instant some were already sexually active. My parents being the old fashioned sort weren’t comfortable with me dating even at 16.
Hal however had the opposite problem. His redneck father was damn near eager to have his ‘boy’ bust some girl’s cherry. For rather obvious reasons Hal wasn’t so thrilled with that since he was the one who wanted to be … hmmm de-flowered.
So an aspect of all of this was to defuse some of the pressure Hal’s father was giving him at home. That plan was all Vonda’s. She’d been looking after our friend for so long; it was second nature for her. That damn trapezoid again, I don’t think Hal knew she wanted more than friendship.
Ricky smacked Hal in the arm. “Groovy! We’ll call from Lee’s place before we leave. See ya’ tonight!”
Still grinning, he walked me to my Dad’s red Ford station wagon. Mom smiled at us as she belted in Darryl, who’d started the first grade this year. Adam, who was two years younger than I, glared at me, but only a little. He’d already looked ahead at what he would be driving when he got his permit and license. He was sitting it. Needless to say he wasn’t too happy with the idea of being stuck with the ‘family’ car. On the other hand, he and Ricky hit it off from the very start.
So yeah, I got some grief about getting, as he saw it, the lion’s share of the attention. Not even mentioning Da’ Car, but my ‘boyfriend’ made up for it. It wasn’t as if he never got anything considering the moped he got last year. It was barely street legal. I swear he was going to get himself killed on that thing.
I was well aware of the little group of kids following us. They all knew about our plans tonight. I had a hunch they were waiting to see if I would get kissed.
As good a kisser Ricky was, I really didn’t want to fuel Hal’s green eyed monster anymore than I had to. Arggh! This teenager angst thing was bad enough the first time around! But no, I’d managed to go around and get to do the whole thing all over again.
We didn’t kiss. My parents were right there for Gawd’s sake!
All the way home, Adam made kissy noises at me. Thinking it a game of course, Darryl had to get in on it too.
I paid them no attention and concentrated on finishing up my homework. We were coming up on finals. I only had one paper to finish, and that was about it. Going though school again was a real drag, but once I hit junior high school, I made sure to take different classes than before. That really helped relive the boredom factor.
Mom kept looking back at me with a combination of smiles and worries. Her own dating experiences were the stuff of nightmares. Possibly the best thing I’d done since arriving back in time was helping my Mom deal with the sexual abuse she’d suffered as a child as well as a young woman. I’m not a doctor, but I helped convince her to seek help.
Maybe having a daughter, gave her the push she needed so she could protect me from the same things. I do know that after Master Lee sent me those books, she didn’t object to me yelling and kicking the tar out of that makeshift punching bag I’d made. I guess she figured that was better than me using Darryl. I don’t know why. He always acted like he liked it!
I sometimes wonder if I’d turned into some kind of Forest Gump. Just looked at all the famous people I’d met and for that matter, I am still corresponding with. Bruce and Linda at my insistence had autographed my copy of the Tao of Jeet Kune Do.
That was another of the ways I fought boredom in school was though my letter writing. Knowing something of the future to come allowed me to put enough hooks in my correspondence to actually get past the screeners and receive replies. While not in classes or writing, I was running, practicing Martial Arts with my brothers or fixing old cars. Keeping busy, living every day was my goal.
Well, normally, I would be doing all that. Today was different.
Mom went into drill sergeant mode as soon as we hit the door. Before I knew it, I was in a tub of bubble bath shaving my legs. As much as I wanted to soak, we were on a timetable. She hustled me out to do my hair while I worked on my nails.
With all the athletic stuff, really long feminine nails are rather impractical. I do, however, keep them looking nice if not long. As soon as we finished, that it was time to pour myself into my dress.
The cream colored cotton went perfectly with my outdoorsy tan. Of course it was below the knee. Poor Daddy would’ve never let me out the door otherwise. That’s not even considering Mom freaking out because of her past experiences.
I wasn’t anywhere near the cutting edge of fashion for 1977, but all considered I didn’t think Ricky would be complaining. Now it was time for the hard part Mom couldn’t help me with. Never the girly sort, she’d never worn much if any makeup. However now I was on my first date, I’d finally been given leave to wear it out in public.
I say that because during the countless sleepover nights with my friend Vonda, makeup was a part of the festivities. We practiced in the way all young girls did. Now that it was time for the real deal, I was way nervous. This was something I could only dream of doing in my old life.
Taking a deep breath, I carefully got to work. After the third try, I was mostly satisfied with my efforts. Disregarding the shut door, little brother Darryl ran in. “Ricky’s here! Ricky’s here!”
I sighed. My whole family was more in love with him than I was. Damn Trapezoids!
Finishing, I studied my face. It would do. Grabbing my purse, I did a quick check of the contents. Makeup for touchups, check; pads and tampons, check; disguised modified car antenna for emergency self-defense, check. Oh yeah, don’t forget to take my wallet. Brains, brains, where are you? Oh there you are!
Walking into our living room, Daddy dear was making sure poor Ricky got an eyeful of the gun cabinet. I got the tail end of the ‘Talk.’
In that scary no nonsense voice of his, Daddy said, “And remember Lee has to be home by 10 pm. If you’re delayed, we expect a phone call at the first opportunity. Do I make myself clear?”
A very anxious Ricky answered, “Yes sir.”
After a pause the poor boy asked, “What if we have an accident?”
Dad replied, “Don’t. Be careful and don’t even think about trying to show off. If you so much as dent that car you don’t have to worry about me. Tomorrow it’s her car. If I know my daughter, she’ll never let you forget it.” He said confident he’d put the fear of Gawd into his victim.
Conversation stopped as I came in. I got really self-conscious. Had I screwed up my makeup somehow? Then I saw Ricky’s face and realized what the problem was.
That confused, stunned expression meant only one thing. This was so not making my planned revelations any easier. Cotton-picking, damn trapezoids!
Looking over at Daddy, he had that same stunned look. He reached down and took Mom’s hand giving that so slight breaking of the plane of his face that we knew was a smile.
It was definitely time to break the tension. “I’m ready. You look nice Ricky,” And he did. Six-two and buff, his dark looks put him squarely in the hunk category.
Blushing, he said, “You’re beautiful.”
My traitorous libido whispered, ‘So what if Hal would be hurt. This delicious beefcake is yours. All you have to do is smile and reel him in honey!’
I fought down my hormones, blushing despite myself. “Why thank you, Ricky!”
Mom had our Polaroid Camera ready and flashed us both still red faced staring at each other. Don’t you just love parents?
After more photos, we rushed out almost forgetting to call Hal and Vonda to let them know we were on our way.
Slipping into Da’ Car, Ricky shut my door just as a gentleman should. The Studebaker gleamed under a new coat of wax. Very carefully Ricky backed us out the driveway. My family all stood there watching and waving as we left. Smiling, I waved back, as a grinning Ricky put us in gear. We were on our way!
They stood there watching their daughter disappear into the distance. Soon bored, the boys ran out no doubt looking for trouble to get into while their older sibling was away.
She asked leaning into her husband, “You think they’ll be okay?”
Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he answered, “Should be. Ricky’s a good kid. As long as he’s careful he’ll be okay.”
Ernie Younger Sr. knew of his much younger wife’s hard life. The so very vulnerable woman stole his heart years ago. He’d done his best to give her a safe place where she’d nothing to fear.
However, these last four years, had changed her in more ways than one. Finding out they’d a daughter instead of a son, altered during that Career Day fiasco was a shock. In retrospective, it all made sense as so many things often did, but the turmoil it put his family through was tough on everyone. What made him sure it was the right thing to do was Lee’s smile.
His shy, stuttering, eternally anxious, little boy blossomed into a smiling, spunky, pint-sized minx of a girl. That smile lit up rooms and made even his old worn out old ticker feel good.
She smacked his arm. “I wasn’t talking about him and you know it!”
His wife turned serious with her worry. “I’m worried about her. It’s her first date and …”
He calmed her fears with a gentle caress of her face with his work worn hands. “I know.”
There were many things he could say, but he sensed that wasn’t what his wife needed. He’d seen his daughter punching and kicking the crap out of that makeshift boxing bag of hers. More, it’d been him who’d welded those weights onto that old car antenna she’d found in the junk yard looking for parts for his old Studebaker. It wasn’t flimsy metal but the next best thing to a steel whip. That thing whistling as she snapped it out right as it cracked into that bag reassured him. However, his wife needed something different.
“They will be fine. We know him, and we know her. Nothing will happen that she doesn’t want. As for what she wants,” He paused looking into his wife’s eyes. “Well she is your daughter. I know how you are.”
She popped his shoulder, “You!”
With love in his heart, he said half serious, “So like I said he’d probably be fine.” Teasingly he went on. “Unless he really does ding my Studebaker; then all bets are off. I swear she cares for that old car more than I do.”
She smiled up at him some of her worry lost. “Well it is a very special car.”
Looking into her eyes, he asked, “It is?”
Playfully her eyes looked up as she remembered her carhop days, “All of us girls, fought over who was going to wait on that gorgeous car as you pulled into the drive-in.” A spark of fire burned in her eyes. “I fought dirty.”
“So it really was the car?” He held his wife tight against him.
Still playful, she smiled, “You were a good tipper, too!”
“Really?” he said lost in her green eyes.
“Well the bench-seats might’ve something to do with it,” She suggested teasing. “Do you think she knows she was likely conceived in the backseat?”
Leading his beloved wife inside, he gave her a playful smack on her rear. After she was made so young and beautiful at the same time Lee was changed, he feared she would grow tired of her worn-out old husband. With her typical sassiness, she proceeded to show him, he wasn’t quite that old, proving with her actions that she wasn’t going anywhere. “I don’t think so, but why do you think I was so willing to let her fix it up?”
Laughing, they danced into the bedroom.
Then we were on our way. I knew I was preening, but we’d all worked hard getting this car to back like new. The most expensive parts of the restoration were the upholstery and the baby blue paint job since that was work we couldn’t do ourselves.
Alright, I admit was not thinking about Ricky and me as hard as I could. There was attraction between us, but honestly, on my part anyways, it was lust. I liked him and we got along, but I was fairly certain it wasn’t love. It could also be because I was a damn idiot. Really trying hard not to think about that!
Pushing that thought away, I was going to enjoy myself damn it! The radio was on, and the windows down on a glorious evening in May on the day before my sixteenth birthday. It simply doesn’t get any better!
Then we were there pulling into their driveway. Not sure how the time had passed so fast, we got out to retrieve Hal and his date.
Like Ricky, Hal had on a button shirt and jeans. Vonda and I planned for weeks about what we were going to wear. Her dress was just as long in the hem as mine, but more revealing up top. Her parents weren’t nearly as ‘traditional’ as mine.
Both of their parents had cameras out, too. The two of them got ‘snapped’ and I made sure to get them to take a few pictures for me and my folks.
I say parents, but really all Hal’s father did was watch. He was about six feet, and had a beer gut with a cigar butt hanging out the corner of his mouth. The entire time his eyes never got higher than my chest. Glancing at Vonda I saw she was getting the same treatment.
Curious, I looked over at her parents. Her Dad was smiling, but I did catch his steely eyed stare at his neighbor. I don’t think he cared for the way his daughter was being gawked at. I could only hope there would be words after we left. Neither of my friends needed this kind of crap.
As we piled in Da’ Car, I saw the Ogre shake his head. It was pretty plain that he just didn’t get how Hal ended up so girly.
That made me shake my head. Even without any formal art training Hal was an exceptional artist. There was a beautiful soul inside him. His perceptive eye saw things most of the rest of us missed. Our friend was a true treasure.
Vonda was thinking the same thing. Her eyes glowed and the love she felt for him was there for anyone to see.
Problem was he was staring at Ricky as we backed out of the drive. I wanted to roll my eyes heavenward praying for help from on high. Damn Trapezoids!
Grinning Ricky put us into gear and officially we’re off on our first date. Soon all of us were blabbering about things teenagers are always talking about. Boys, makeup, music, and everything else under the stars if not necessarily in that order.
Ray scratched his belly in annoyance. Just how had his boy ended looking so queer? Up to when those damn Democrats forced his boy into their damn machine, he’d been taller than all the rest of the brats in the neighborhood. Now he wasn’t any taller than that girl he was always with. Hell, his boy wasn’t even bulking up any way he should’ve. Still slim and pretty, his boy made his teeth ache just thinking about him.
And he was still doing all that prissy art shit. If Ray had his way, he’d tear all of it up. A real man had no need for that kind of crap. Next thing you know, his boy would be prancing around with beads and flowers in his hair like one of those damn hippies.
The one bright spot was their neighbor’s girl. Now she was a sweet piece of jailbait. It frustrated the hell out of Ray that he was pretty damn sure his boy wasn’t getting a piece of her. That was what real men were supposed to do. Hell, he was ready to nail her himself.
He spat out his cigar butt. If he’d thought she was hot, that chick had nothing on the one that was just here. She was one of the neighbor girl’s friends he’d seen around. Small and slim, that prime piece of ass had curves that made him hard just thinking about it.
It was too damn bad she was one of those changelings the frakking Democrats were always crying about. If they didn’t want to have their ass kicked they should’ve stayed the way Gawd made ’em.
Ray had heard the rumors she was also what the tabloids called a Wildcard. That scanner-machine thing had run crazy spitting out someone who wasn’t even human anymore. The frakking Democrats denied it, but even now and then he saw something about it in the trashy magazines. Green Beret super-soldiers, fighting monsters those things made when they malfunctioned.
He grinned nastily. She was such a little thing; he bet a real man like him could handle her no matter what that thing had done to her. Ray didn’t really believe all those stories that said freaks like her had teeth down there. Bet, she’d be begging for him to do her again, if he did.
Furious his fat wife stomped off. He glared at her. She knew better than to piss him off. Maybe he needed to smack her around some more to teach her who was the head of the house.
Then he saw his neighbor storming over. Damn frakking wanna be hippies. What was this country coming too?
Ray sighed and scratched his butt. Now he was going to have to listen to this asshole’s complaints, again, Frakk.
Vonda still had doubts about the movie we’re off to see, but I told her I thought the boys would enjoy it. “I read a novelization of the screenplay last Christmas. The story seems good, although I’m not sure how they’re going to do some of the effects.”
Hal added, “I’ve heard good things about the special effects. They’re supposed to be really good.”
I twisted to face the backseat. “Been reading Starlog again? I have the latest issue back home.”
Hal blushed as Vonda giggled, “You two! Between his art and your science-fiction thing, both your heads are always in the clouds. Sometimes I think you really do want to become an astronaut.”
Ricky didn’t say a word, but I saw his eyes roll.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked her. “Space 1999 didn’t take it far enough. There’s already a moon-base. Even the Soviets has one now. Ares 11 is about to put men down on Mars again. In just a few years, they’ll have a base there too and maybe even a colony. Lots of opportunity in the Space Program.”
Vonda shook her dark auburn locks. “It just seems strange to me sometimes. Our stories are about freeing people’s minds. You know making them see that we’re all the same under the skin.
“But you are also so space crazy, it’s like you can’t wait to lift off!” She said in a slightly hurt way.
Rick interrupted, “Your stories?”
Sighing, I felt guilty because I’d an idea her hurt was because of how she felt about me. Ricky however didn’t know about our publishing successes.
Vonda blushed when she realized she’d let the cat out the bag.
Giving her a reassuring smile, I asked Hal, “It’s okay if I tell him? I think we can trust him.” I said patting our driver on his shoulder.
Reaching for Vonda’s hand, our artist nodded.
“Ricky, it’s like this. We’ve been keeping some things under cover. You remember that children’s book that came out that had the story from the President’s speech in it, The Rainbow Land?”
“That was you?” He asked.
“It was in the letter I wrote to him telling him about what really happened. Rainbow was the story I made up to explain to little brother Darryl why his big brother Ernie, was now his sister.” I explained.
“Wow,” He said impressing me by not taking his eyes from the road. My Dad had been on those early bootleggers turned racecar driver. He’d made damn sure Ricky knew where his eyes belonged, on the road.
Ricky hesitated, but asked, “Ya’ll did the Survival Guide book too, didn’t you?”
A little worried Hal asked, “How did you know?”
“Well, back when Lee still looked Chinese, she passed around some copies of things to do if your parents freaked out and tried to hurt you. Later, I saw some of your art in Vonda’s room when I visited. It’s a lot the same as the pictures in the Guide.”
While we were digesting that, He added, “So ya’ll are like famous or something?”
We all laughed.
Vonda giggled, “Or something!”
“That’s why we’ve used the pseudonyms. While I think we’ve helped a few kids, some idiots think it’s their Gawd given right to treat their chill’en any damn way they please. Unfortunately, some of them are too damn close to hand for comfort.”
Rickey answered, “Hal’s dad. Sorry man, that must suck.”
We were coming into the outskirts of Peachburg which was the closest large town to us as a group.
Hal sighed, “It’s alright I guess. Only two more years till we graduate. Lee’s saving my share for me, so my father doesn’t find out. He’d just drink it up and then beat me up for what we said. He’s in the More-the-rod-the-better instead of Spare-the-rod-and-spoil-the-child camp.”
I bit my tongue about the jerk staring at me and Vonda. She caught my eye and I knew she was thinking the same thing. My friend warned me about Hal’s father from the start. I’d returned the favor by urging her to be very careful around him too.
Ricky broke my train of thought as we pulled into our destination, Marvin’s Piggy Park.
“Are you sure you want to eat here?” He asked. “Burger King is closer to the theater and is cheaper.”
I didn’t give anyone else a chance to reply. “Yes, I’m sure. Marvin’s might be a BBQ place, but they have the best burgers. None of that frozen mystery meat hockey pucks if you please!”
Everyone laughed.
“So says the girl who eats like a bird!” Ricky jabbed.
With all the help he’d given with Da’ Car, he’d been a regular diner at my house. He’d seen how careful I was with my portions as well as what I ate.
Hey, I’m guilty! I love my meat. At the top of the food chain? No problem! However, the 70’s weren’t known for their healthy diet either. I enjoyed the food I loved, but I also made certain I got my veggies and fruits. I’d been a fat boy in 2010. There was no way I was going to be a fat girl!
I defended myself. “With all the tomatoes and lettuce, it’s more like a salad burger. And,” I added. “They have fresh cut French fries and not frozen tater sticks. Besides they’re one of last drive-ins around. We get to have a little privacy to talk.”
Ricky shrugged, “I don’t see it matters since you eat so little. Someone like me has to eat a lot more. This dating thing is getting expensive. I’m surprised you trust us to eat in your car.
Primly I replied. “Maybe I don’t hog my food down like you do, but what I do eat needs to be tasty and good for me. As for expensive, most of your money comes from me anyhow for helping with my baby.” I patted the dashboard.
He complained, “That’s what I mean! All the money I made fixing this thing up, is being spent right back on you. I end up with nothing!”
Looking at our passengers, Vonda and Hal were giggling.
Pouting I said, “But that’s how it’s suppose to be. We girls get all the benefits, while you boys get the honor of being allowed in our presence.”
The buzz of the drive-in speaker let me have the final word!
As soon as we’d all ordered, Ricky, not at all slow, asked, “So what did you want to talk about?”
Vonda and Hal were curious too. “We’re wondering about that too,” She spoke up for both of them.
I took a deep breath which had the opposite effect on Ricky than what I really wanted. His eyes had wandered south of my chin. Urgh, boys!
“Okay,” I began. “This is our first date. This might be a bad idea, but I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”
“You mean like the dos and don’ts, “Ricky asked.
I shook my head. “I think my Dad went over those pretty good. This is more like assumptions we’re making, I think. I could be wrong, but if I am then I’ll shut up.”
“However is there anything, anyone wants to talk about before I start?” I asked hoping one of them would speak up, but no one did.
Then before I could get started our food arrived with Ricky grimacing over the five bucks our two meals costs. Boy is he in for sticker shock in a few years!
It took a few minutes for straws, ketchup packets and all to be passed around. I bit into a delicious onion ring trying not to think about all the hard exercise I was going to have to do to work it off.
Finally we were ready to talk again. “Alright, I guess I’m first.”
I looked Ricky in the eye, as he munched. “Ricky I really like you a lot. Perhaps in time, maybe even love you, but there’s someone else here that I have a crush on.” I felt really bad as his face fell.
“Huh?” He said looking back at Hal who blushed, but not for the reason he thought.
“Hey, remember I said really, really liked, okay? But it’s not Hal.” I said looking back at Vonda.
She blushed even redder than Hal sitting next to her.
Ricky looked from me to her confused. “You mean … Her, you? He stuttered.
Looking into her eyes, I said, “I guess I have more boy left in me than I thought. Being with you makes me happy. I don’t know why, but I do.”
Turning to Ricky I said, “This whole thing is like a bad romance novel’s love triangle, but with even more sides. That’s why I opened my big mouth.”
The poor boy opened and closed his mouth. I guess I’m lucky he didn’t start choking on his food. “Wow, hmmm … I didn’t see that coming.”
I could see I did hurt his feelings. Taking another breath I took the chance of alienating all of my friends. “Ricky, there is someone who does have a crush on you here.”
Shocked he looked at Vonda, but she gave him the tiniest shake of her head no.
In a very small voice Hal said, “No, Me.”
I’d watched Ricky carefully, but he didn’t get mad. I will say the look on his face was absolutely priceless.
“Go on Hal,” I urged. “Tell him.”
Vonda with tears in her eyes nodded for him to do the same.
Awkwardly our friend, said, “Back during Career Day and I got changed into a Black girl, it was one of the happiest times of my life. I was scared out of my mind my father would kill me, but it was who I was supposed to be, you know?”
Ricky nodded. I knew he understood only too well.
Compassion in his words, he asked, “Why did they change you back? They kept us the same, well kinda,” Ricky amended.
Hal shook his head tears falling. “I was too afraid of my father. Vonda practically hid me under her bed for the whole week it snowed. I think that was what made them changed me back, although I’m like Lee.”
Blushing even more vividly, he added softly, “Except I hmmm… like boys.”
Ricky surprised me by reaching for Hal’s hand. “I get it,” the larger teen said, and then he blushed red, “I find myself looking at the other fellas too sometimes. I guess I have some girl left in me too. Mind you, I’ll deny it if any of you ever bring it up.”
Pleased, I touched him. “I think you can be sure that nothing here is ever going to be repeated.”
Still holding Hal’s hand, Ricky asked, “Are you going to get, you know, changed? Do you have a girl name?”
Shyly our friend nodded. “As soon as I reach college. That’s what the money Lee’s holding for me is really for. Vonda and Lee help me dress sometimes. I call myself Teresa.”
Gently, Ricky said, “That’s a pretty name. I would like to see her sometimes.
Poor Hal was torn between glowing and trying to hide.
He turned to Vonda who was crying in her fries. It only took him a second to realize why.
“Oh Vonda,” Hal said hugging the best he could with food and drinks in their laps.
Looking into Hal’s face, she sobbed, “I’ve loved you for so long.”
His expression was also full of love, “I love you too, but not in that way. You’ve always been there for me. You’re my dearest sister, and I’ll always cherish you.”
Sadness filled him, “But I can’t be your lover.”
I passed her a handful of napkins.
Vonda smiled sadly, “I guessed that a while ago, but I didn’t want to admit it.”
She looked at me in a way that made my heart soar. “I feel something for you too. It’s just I feel so torn. I’ve watched after Hal for so long it’s so hard to let go. I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”
Hal took her hand and placed it on top of mine. “You’re my sister, and I’ll always need you. But you need to have your own life too. I know you two have a ‘thing’ for each other. I don’t how many times I’ve interrupted the two of you almost kissing.”
Coyly looking at her, I blushed again.
Ricky glanced down at Hal’s hand he was still holding and then at Vonda and my grasp. “So what do we do now? We’d be killed at school for this. My parents are pretty cool, but I don’t think they’d be any too happy with this.”
I nodded in agreement. “Mine too. Me really being a girl is one thing. Bringing home another girl home as my girlfriend is something else.”
Hal muttered, “My Father would find some way of killing me twice!”
Vonda caressed my hand, “Mine are okay with Hal even if he isn’t exactly manly. He is still a he. They might get used to me with another girl, but they wouldn’t like it.”
A moment of silence ticked by.
I looked at Ricky and Hal. The pure adoration flowing from Hal must be as addictive as chocolate. Poor Ricky was stunned and still holding the smaller boy’s hand.
Reluctantly, Ricky suggested, “We could do nothing. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if this came out, not only us, but a whole lot of other people too would be hurt.
I thought Hal was going to start crying again.
Vonda , used to covering their trail, had a counter proposal. “Why not do what we’re doing? Double dating happens all the time. Let everyone think we’re boy/girl? Besides, we don’t know how things are going to work out. Couples breakup all the time. I hope none of us do, but it does happen.”
Ricky sighed, “I never expected anything like this. I don’t want to hurt you Hal, but in a lot of ways I prefer Lee as my girlfriend.”
Before Hal could start crying again I interjected, “Because it’s easier?”
He sighed, “Yes. Like you said, I really like you too. You’re so damn pretty, but I’ve never had anyone look at me the way Hal is. It feels good. I’m not sure it is good. For either one of us, considering all the problems, but I can’t deny it’s there. So I guess when we go home we just pretend we’re a good time.”
I smacked him on the shoulder, “No! We’re all friends. No need to lie or pretend anything. You’re going to take me home, and I’m going to say I had a very good time because I did.”
Vonda and Hal nodded. They were old hands at telling the truth, but leaving out what they needed to.
She looked down at the makeup smeared napkins, “Lee, I think we need to fix our faces.”
A quick check in the rearview mirror showed, she was so right. “Let’s finish eating first. We’ll need to repair it then anyways.”
Vonda nodded taking a bite of her sandwich.
Conversation actually drifted over into more or less normal tropics. With the school almost over, things like what we were doing for the summer like jobs, family vacations and of course follow up dates came up.
Our task mistress, Vonda, pointed out we had our next book to finish up as well as another Hal was working on the illustrations for. This one unlike the one with the publisher right now didn’t involve gay or lesbian themes. It was more like the first Rainbow book, a humorous children’s explanation to some of the weird things adults do.
Ricky was set to work on his Uncle’s farm which meant long hours. Looking ahead, he’d wangled Friday afternoons free so he would be able to get cleaned up for date night.
We also kicked around ideas of how to derail whatever plans Hal’s father had for his son’s summer. For was certain it was going to be unpleasant and overdosed with testosterone.
“Scooping up road kill,” Hal moaned.
“Chewing tobacco tester,” I suggested.
“Mucking out a stable,” Ricky contributed, showing his farm boy background.
Vonda grimaced. “Cleaning rest stop bathrooms.”
“Gross!” Everyone ewwed.
Ricky looked thoughtful. “You know you could do what you did with me. Hire them.”
We stared at him.
He explained, “Your parents run that small truck farm. Say you’re hiring them to work there. That’ll give you three the chance to work on your books and art. If he comes sniffing around, you’ve got a cover story. What makes it so sweet is you two will actually get paid your own money. That is if your parents go for it, Lee.”
Vonda nodded, “That’s sounds like a real good idea. Lee lives far enough away to make him just dropping by unlikely.”
Hal added, “We would have to find a place with good light for my studio.”
I held up my hand. “This is bad. If he shows up and start leering at me or Mom like he did tonight my Dad will shoot him dead on the spot!”
Failing to look innocent, Vonda said, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Sighing, I gave up. “They’ll probably agree. Last year, Dad added onto the house again. I ended up with a bigger room, but I’m still using my loft bed. If we move it against the interior wall, we’ll open up a lot of space near the windows. They’re pretty big so that should give you the lighting as well as the space you need, Hal.”
Ricky checked the time. “Hey we need to be going if we’re to make the movie.”
Vonda and I piled out the Da’ Car. “We’ll be right back boys!”
In the rest room, we did a rush job to salvage our faces for the evening.
“I’m sorry if I pushed things, Vonda.” I said taking out my lipstick.
She gently hugged me. “It’s alright. You’re braver than I am. I knew all along that Hal and I wouldn’t work. I was just hoping that somehow it would. You and Ricky just seemed so made for each other I didn’t want to poison that either. I guess I was feeling pretty left out. Part of me is afraid Hal’s going to get hurt by all of this. Just listen to me. This is coming out all scrambled!”
I hugged her back. “He’s had a hard time, but you can’t help him stand. Hal has to do that on his own. All you, we, can do is catch him if he falls, because that is what friends do.”
“As for us, it’s complicated. I knew you loved him, but I could see, feel, this attraction between us too. I don’t know if it could be love, but I would like to think it isn’t only lust.” I said feel my heart beat quicken and the tension rising between us.
Her lips parted and I wanted to kiss her so badly it almost hurt.
Blam, blam! “Lee, Vonda, we need to go!” Ricky yelled from outside.
The moment shattered like glass, the both of us held the other up. I wanted to cry again, but Vonda ever the strong one, whispered, “Don’t! We’ll both mess up our faces again.”
“Hold on. We’re coming.” I told our unwelcome interrupter.
To her I said, “We will find the perfect place to continue this.”
Smiling, she nodded taking my hand.
Opening the door, Ricky had no idea what he messed up. He might’ve begun as a girl, but he damn sure was all boy now.
On the other hand as we clambered back into Da’ Car, Hal gave us a wink. The little minx knew exactly what Ricky had broken up. In a bit of a hurry Ricky roared out of the parking lot.
A gently touch, but with a steel-eyed glare behind it, warned him to slow down. The traffic, as we neared the theater, got heavier. Parking was also a challenge given the usual Friday opening night crowd.
Keeping up with the fiction of who was dating who, Ricky and Hal had us girls on their arms. The line was long, but we did get into the show we wanted. Ricky almost made us late wanting snacks even though we’d just eaten. Alright, Vonda and I did have to use the little girl’s room too, so we wouldn’t have to get up in the middle of the movie.
Then, I had to drag Ricky away from the open door of the other movie playing, Smokey and the Bandit. Of course that was the movie he wanted see. Fast cars, bad boys, and lots of profanity. Oh please dear Lord don’t let the testosterone poisoning be too serious.
We got in and were able though the kindness of others found four seats together. The nice thing about this dating gig was we girls got sandwiched together with the boys protective on either side.
Hal was a little disappointed since he really wanted to be near Ricky, but this once he could suffer. With everyone trying to keep us apart it was pure heaven to be able to hold hands in the dark.
I was a little concerned about how this universe’s version would hold up. As the classic title crawl began, I sighed. “Long ago in a galaxy far away” indeed. My own journey was no less long, but I fear far stranger. Letting go of my worries I held my friend’s hand losing myself in George’s vision.
Just over two hours later, my friends unanimously voted it one of the best flicks they’d ever seen. Poor, artistic Hal was completely dazzled by the, for the time, amazing special effects.
Most of my worries about differences were groundless. The only ones even my photographic memory found were in the effects. That’s because all of George’s inspiration for this came from before the timeline split from my original. Recent changes with real space stations, and moon bases did alter some of the production designs. Nothing I couldn’t live with.
My friends were so excited from the aftermath of the movie they almost forgot about their teenage angst. We all started laughing as all of us darted glances about wanting to talk and perhaps do something about what we were feeling.
However we could also read the time. There simply wasn’t the opportunity for anything. None of us had to mention how bad it would be to break curfew on our very first date. So with smiles, and “May the Force be with you,” we dropped off our friends.
On the way back to my home, down those lonely country roads, I looked up at the night sky. The stars looked down on us, and I wondered about the future. Most people had no clue to what the first moon mission had really found up there. Hap, the alien medical CI, had come from somewhere even further out there.
“Ricky, are you mad at me?” I asked.
He smiled, “Lee, I’m not mad. Still reminding myself that with you things never happen like I expect. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, because they usually work out for the best.”
“I think we could be very happy. Maybe I don’t love you, but I’m not really sure what that is yet. I never considered Hal, for very obvious reasons. However, with him, being like us changes things, because there is something about Hal that makes me look twice, boy or not.
“We’ve got high school to get though before we can graduate. That’ll be even harder with our secret. Really hard for Hal, because I recall how it was for me.
“But like my Daddy says, anything worth doing ain’t going to be easy,” Ricky said pulling into my yard.
I knew my parents were still up from the lights. That didn’t surprise me at all.
Ever the gentleman, Ricky opened my door for me. “Here you are. Back safe and sound.”
He walked me to the gate handing me Da’ Car’s keys. Time stood still as he gently kissed my lips.
Whispering in my ear softly he said, “For what could’ve been.”
Ricky walked to his parent’s car. I watched his taillights disappear into the southern night wondering if and how big a fool I was being. As at last he was gone with only the stars burning overhead.
Looking up for wisdom from those faraway suns, I saw Vonda’s bright eyes. My memory made them as brilliant as any star.
Sighing, I had my answer. Ricky and I could be happy together. We would have a nice safe life that upset no one, status quo. He was a good man with a good heart.
The love between Vonda and me was a rosebud that had yet to blossom. It was full of all the possibilities of the unknown. Unlike, with Ricky, our bond would defy all of society’s expectations. We would face prejudices and scorn for daring to love.
While I felt attractions to males, perhaps because of my life in my other timeline, I was drawn more to other girls. However unlike me, Vonda, I think had fewer options. More than before, I believed she was lesbian. Although she never talked of it, I knew of her fears.
I smiled up at the heavens, thanking them. The choice of taking the safe path or risk it all for greatest treasure of all wasn’t a decision after all.
My parents no doubt were wondering what I waiting for. Smiling, it was time to reassure them all was well. I was home.
Lee has her sweet sixteen birthday, but life isn't always roses and rainbows.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Authors note: This story continues Career Day: Wheels of the School Bus Go Round and Round. It probably won’t make much sense without reading that one first. Vol. 3 is planned, but I don’t honestly know when I’ll be able to get to it. I had a lot of problems with the end of this one which ended up in several rewrites. That of course delayed everything, and my move a few months ago didn’t help. So please bear with me. It might be awhile.
“Happy Birthday, Lee!” Squealed little brother Darryl as he bounced on my bed.
Glancing at the clock, it read, 6:30. With a moan I ignored his laughing and pulled my pillow over my head. Happy Birthday to me, oh joy.
I had to suppress a yawn. My sixteenth birthday started off with a bang and showed no signs of slowing down. Darryl, the little rascal, had me up at six-thirty AM. I think he was more excited about today than I was, and that was saying something.
The scamp just had to show me the present he’d, by way of Mom, brought me. Tearing off the wrapping, I had a Bionic Woman Doll. Smiling, I’d added it the collection of girl toys he’d gotten me. My first girl Christmas he’d noticed I didn’t have any girl toys. Darryl single handedly decided to remedy that. Every Christmas and Birthday, I got a doll or stuffed animal.
Seeing the writing on the wall, I got up. I was a curious mixture of tired and wired from last night. Looking at the rising sun, I thought about my friends. I wondered for about the millionth time why we TG types kept getting picked on. Back in 2010, prejudice against gay and lesbians were starting to soften, but not so much for us gender lost, confused and bent types. I sighed.
Darryl however was determined I wasn’t going to be sad today. Marching me into the kitchen, the seven year old was going to cook me breakfast. No surprise here, I hmmm…. Helped.
Then it was off the joys of standing in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles not once, but twice for my Driver’s license and the title of my Studebaker.
Mom met me outside smiling wide. “Your father and the boys are going to meet up with us later. You however are going to run me around on a few errands.”
I raised an eyebrow. She had something devious in mind. Playing along, I smiled back. “I’m game. Where to, first?” I asked.
Pulling up in front of my Aunt Hope and Faith’s little boutique and beauty shop, Mom winked. “My treat.”
Really, it was just an annex to Aunt Hope’s house, but along with my Aunt Faith doing nails and manicures, they’d built up a solid reputation as the little shop that could.
As much as Dad enjoyed Mom’s new lease on life following her and my transformations, I think those two had actually rejoiced. Seeing their big sister always so drab and playing down her assets drove them nuts, I think.
Of my Mom’s large family the strawberry blond twins, Hope and Faith were my favorites. Meeting us at the door, they were obviously expecting us. Both were as short as I was, at five two.
Being that short was about the only thing that bugged me as far as being me was concerned. Even Mom was an inch or two taller than I. Then again Master Bruce Lee was only five seven. Another Master, although fictional, once told his student, ‘Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm, and well you should not.” It’d be three more years before that little green philosopher would hit pop culture this time around, but it made the lesson no less true.
It the case of my Aunts, both my Mom and I were swept away by their hurricane-like enthusiasm. Not wise to underestimate them at all! I managed by the skin of my teeth not to ended up a frosted blond with Debbie Harry bangs.
I like my long, dark brunette hair. Even with trims, it came down to my waist. As anyone with long hair can tell you, it’s a real pain to keep clean and nice, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The pampering and having someone else doing some of the work taking care of my hair was heaven. The manicure was just as good. Now that I was sixteen, Mom gave them the okay to give me the works.
While I was getting done, so was Mom. Her sisters talked her out of the simple haircut she wanted and into something like a more restrained Farrah Fawcett’s famous do. Afraid, poor Mom would end up blond like I almost did, I suggested rather than the ‘frosting,’ a highlighting in a burgundy. It turned out to be sort of like a tinted Jaclyn Smith look. With Mom’s tanned complexion it really popped.
It took a little convincing, but I got away with mostly only a trim. My hair did however now have similar highlights like Mom’s and was very wavy. My Aunts were quiet pleased with themselves and insisted on lots of pictures.
Back in my car, damn but didn’t that sound good! We were off again. This time to the only real mall in town. I think we hit every last store and even as fit as I was, wondering how we were going to carry everything.
However, the crowning glory of that was getting my ears pierced. Most of the girls in my class already had theirs done, but as I’d said before, my folks are so old fashioned it hurts sometimes. I’d asked some time ago, but they’d refused. Having a little patience paid off for once, since sharing this with Mom made up that refusal in spades. In aces, since I got her to get hers pierced too. Well, really re-pierced since she let the holes close, but now we shared matching earrings.
Watching her as we headed back to my car I marveled at the changes in her over the last few years. The transformation aside, she’d more confidence and to me anyways, happier. Hell, she was getting as many looks as I, and I had to keep from giggling as I imagined the trail of wrath and destruction behind us because of wandering-eye-syndrome.
Surprisingly, we only had one incident, and Mom took care of that. This guy came up to us obviously egged on by his less adventurous buds. Mom ignored him until he was about to open his mouth. She turned looked him in the eye and turned the temperature down to sub-zero. After staring him down we simply walked away as if we never noticed him. She’d definitely been paying attention to Daddy’s 100 yard stare lessons.
After loading my car, I wasn’t surprised at all to find her directing us to Marvin’s. The drive-in was after all where she and Dad had met. At this location, the restaurateur seeing the days of the drive-in were quickly coming to an end, opened a dining room. My stomach growled, more than ready for the late lunch. Despite all the goodies there, I had to be careful this time. I’d pigged out the night before, so I worked a deal to split a burger with Darryl. Marvin’s hamburger baskets were big enough for two anyways.
Adam gave me the eye, seeing what Mom and I’d been up to. Younger brother was still very aware if not jealous of every last thing I received. However, his attitude was much better than it’d been towards the pre-transformation me. His gift to me was a box of assorted hair stuff like, ties and bows that I go though because of my hair. He’d would’ve been left looking silly if I’d let our Aunties have their way!
On the other hand, I can see he was happy with his jaunt with Dad. Whatever the three of them had done while Mom and I went wild with the girl stuff, Adam and Darryl were happy. More power to them, because I know Mom and I very much enjoyed ourselves.
Dad stood as a waitress brought in a cake, chocolate of course. “Lee today you’re sixteen and no longer a girl, but a young woman. You’ve justified our faith in you by acting mature and responsibly. Happy Birthday.”
Then all the staff and even some other dinners joined in singing Happy Birthday. I heard the other part Daddy didn’t say. ‘Don’t let us down now.’
My eyes shining, it was my turn to stand. “I might be a young woman now, but I’ll always be your little girl too, Mommy and Daddy.” Then I blew out the candles. “Happily ever after, happily ever after,” I whispered resisting the urge to click my heels three times.
By the time we got home, I was truly pooped. Between Mom’s ‘errands’ and little brother’s early wake up call, I was worn out. Ever the builder, Dad added a lean-to like garage onto our barn so I had a covered place to park Da’ Car. That kept me from having to keep my car in the barn. Opening and closing those doors all the time was a chore!
“Mom, is it okay I call Vonda?” I asked.
Knowingly she smirked, “Can’t wait to tell her about your new clothes?”
“Mom!” I giggled.
“Go ahead. You can ask her over if you want.” She said. “I don’t think your father has anything else planned. We might be grilling out tonight, nothing special.”
I grinned going for the phone. In the summer, cooking outside was the norm for us. Without air conditioning, it was simply too damn hot to cook inside. Of course being here in the Deep South we started getting summer temperatures by mid to late spring. Dialing my friend on the old black rotary phone, I wondered if we would get cell phones sooner in this timeline.
One of the advancements, I suspected that came from Hap’s wrecked ship sorta kinda by way of the space program was very efficient fuel cells and superconductors. After the ‘73 oil embargo, President Kennedy released the technology to the automakers. Hell, there were even kits to convert existing automobiles to electric. With the promise of running their cars off of water many did just that.
There was a catch. Although it could run off water, using already cracked Hydrogen was much better. Most owners got tired real quick of sticking their water hose in the tank every time they turned around. Going to a station to fill up with “H” took no longer than with gasoline. Plus it seemed you could run forever on a tank full.
Stubborn folk that Americans are, it actually cost more than the inflated prices from OPEC, at first anyways. Of course the big oil companies didn’t just have a cow; they had whole damn herds of moans and complaints. The President had an answer. Since they had most of the infrastructure for supporting the ‘fuel’ industry they got massive tax breaks while they converted over. None of this was cheap after all.
However, that price fell quickly as the conversion paid for itself. For my car, that was never a consideration. It used gas and was going to use gas. My car was a restoration of a classic. Dad did talk about getting our Ford converted, but OPEC found that they’d shot themselves in the foot with the embargo. With no demand gas didn’t cost much more than when I first returned to 1973. It was about four bucks for a tank, which made me grin remembering the prices in 2010 that was that much for a gallon!
It did make me wonder what other goodies were in the toy box. The first home computers were just appearing. However I thought I could leave those alone for now. Frankly I had other things on my mind. Besides, the internet was still years away.
“Hi, this is Lee! Is Vonda there please?” I asked.
“Lee!” My friend squealed. “Happy Birthday!”
I really wasn’t too sure what all we blabbered to each other about. It was at such a high speed that I don’t think fax machines or modems could’ve kept up with us. We did cover her coming by and the cook out.
Running around putting up my new things up, I took a brief instant to sit down. Before I knew it something woke me up.
Little brother was bouncing on me again, O pooh!
“Vonda’s here, Vonda’s here,” he yelled. Darryl could be enthusiastic.
Her face lit up as she saw my new hair style. “Stand up so I can see,” she said reaching to help me down from my high bed.
My Aunt’s had put so much wave into my normally waist length hair, it now fell only about half way down my back. However it was easier to have it over my shoulders on the front.
Darryl seeing how we were going to be talking ‘girl’ stuff raced off to get into some other type of trouble.
I flowed gracefully in a circle modeling their work for my friend.
Smiling I asked, “You like?”
Vonda nodded hugging me. “Happy Birthday, Lee.” She gently took my wrist tying on a friendship bracelet.
As I admired my new bracelet, Vonda touched my hair sending shivers down my spine. We hugged again communicating so much, we didn’t dare say.
Knowing my brothers were about, anything private was an absolute impossibility. So I settle for showing my girlfriend all my new stuff, my spanking new driver’s license to my earrings.
Giggling and comparing wardrobes, we simply enjoyed just being together. However, that swirling tension that heralded our attraction for each other seemed even stronger now. It was as if acknowledging it made it even stronger. Perhaps, it was her admitting that she and Hal were a lost cause. Now I had all of her attention. I really couldn’t say. What I did know was the selfish bitch that I was enjoyed every second.
Mom made an appearance; I had the required fashion show modeling the new stuff. Despite still being tired, it was a fun way of wasting time on a late Saturday afternoon. But all good things must come to an end.
As night fell, Daddy started up the grill. We didn’t have anything heavy, just some hotdogs and the roasting of some marshmallows afterwards. While the boys were busy with that, Vonda and I sneaked away to the barn.
Making sure no one was watching, I held out my hands to her.
Vonda’s shining eyes gave me the strangest feelings. Was this love? I felt I could stand here forever staring at her. Taking up my offer. We tenderly pulled each other together still holding hands.
I smiled as she began to sway to music only she could hear. Humming a few bars, she sang softly in my ear, “But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness. Like a heartbeat, drives you mad in the stillness of remembering.”
It was Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams. Just as gently I sang the chorus. “Thunder only happens when it’s raining.”
Her parents were what passed for upper crust in these parts. Her father was a doctor, and her nurse mother had Vonda taking piano and dancing lessons almost from the time she could walk.
While I’ll never be a piano player, she’d passed on some of her dancing lessons to me. Sometimes she would lead, and at others I would. As self-conscious as I was about our relative skills, I’d couldn’t help but feel this was the perfect end to my sweet sixteenth. Well I guess I should say almost perfect.
“It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams and have you any dreams you’d like to sell.” she sang parting her lips.
We leaned into each other and …
A sound from the loft made me look up. There was Adam.
I jumped and so did Vonda as she heard, but didn’t see little brother skittering away.
The mood shattered, again, I was caught between wanting to curse or cry. Taking Vonda’s hand, I said, “I think there’s something up there.” Together we ran out.
I didn’t think he’d seen anything incriminating, but you never knew with Adam.
Daddy just looked sage saying, “Probably just a coon or possum. Now you boys stay out of there,” He said warning my brothers to stay out of mischief. “Time to be heading in anyways.”
Adam slinked back, but I couldn’t make up my mind to confront him or not. I really wanted to strangle the little so and so. Finally I decided to let sleeping dogs lay since I wasn’t sure how much he might’ve seen.
As we cleaned up for the night, I walked Vonda to her Mom’s car she was borrowing. The huge Lincoln was converted to run off of Hydrogen given her parents’, green before green was hip, attitudes.
At least one good thing about being a girl was that hugs were freely allowed. Both of our eyes were full of wistfulness as she left. I helped tote the last of our stuff inside, and got ready for bed.
As soon as I lay down Hap called, “Lee.”
I dug out my ‘pinecone.’ “Yes, Hap?”
“Happy Birthday,” She greeted.
I sighed. As much as I wanted to yell and scream it wasn’t her fault. Adam had interrupted something I really, really wanted, but I couldn’t vent to anyone. Honestly, it was pure frustration. I couldn’t state even to myself exactly what it was. Lust, love, and the usual mixture of stormy emotions teenagers go though at a guess. I lived most of one lifetime before receiving this second chance. A really big but here, I was so messed up with denial, and Gawd knows whatever else, my emotional and social development were seriously lacking.
In a very real way, I couldn’t let myself feel because that would’ve let the beast out of the closet. Telling a close friend on my original timeline once, that it was how I survived, she replied, “I wouldn’t even call that surviving, existing maybe, but that’s not living.”
That was as Ernie. As Lee, I didn’t have to hide anything. Okay, maybe I did from a few people because they wouldn’t understand Vonda’s and my romance. However, the important thing was at least I didn’t have to hide them from myself. I could let my heart tell me true and feel. This second chance gave me the chance to finally grow up without being stunted by self-doubt, loathing and fear.
Part of that process was being immature as a teenager sometimes. That drove me to distraction because although I was aware of it, I couldn’t help myself.
Taking a deep, deep breath I released it nice and slow. Hap didn’t break up that kiss I’d been dreaming of. She didn’t need an emotionally and sexually frustrated teen getting in her face. “Okay Hap,” I replied. “Sorry about sounding mad. I got interrupted in the middle of something I’ve been looking forward to for a really long time.”
“It’s alright Lee,” She said, “If you want to talk about it that fine. That’s what friends are for, right.”
I smiled in the dark. Hap could literally take just about anything living or not and reassemble them into just about anything. However, the intricacies of the human condition were a little beyond her. Perhaps much of how we act and feel are all chemicals and hormones, but our environment and culture have their places too.
“Well,” I began. “Vonda and I were holding each other and doing a little slow dancing. Then we almost kissed. Adam, the little weasel, was spying on us. I don‘t think he saw anything. He knocked over some stuff trying to. I really can‘t say anything without either creating a problem or making one worse.”
Pouting, I complained, “We were so close, Hap!”
“Would it be so bad if he had,” She asked.
Thinking about the blackmail and other schemes of his I’d dealt with over the years in two childhoods with, I said with feeling, “Yes!”
“We’ve talked about this some before. With the med-scanner evidence, my parents can rationalize; okay Ernie turning into Lee was just a weird kind of birth defect.
“My choosing a girl over Ricky would confuse the hell out of them. In their world, girls go for the boys. They might even think that since I picked Vonda instead of Ricky that maybe this whole Lee thing was a mistake and I should be Ernie.
“This is still the 70’s. Maybe in 10 years or so when the Conservative backlash is spent, we’ll see. The good news are the laws RFK signed protecting the LGBT community hasn’t been attacked. But the majority of the country still has some damn strange ideas about what gay means.
“Adam is a product of living in the South. He knows that our parents would disapprove. He also knows it would get me in trouble and thus prime blackmail material. I don’t know for sure he would, because he’s not nearly as bad as he used to be,” I said. Having more of Dad’s attention did help mellow that attitude of his.
“Lee, I still don’t understand your culture’s single minded devotion to male and female bonding. The biological attraction to the same sex happens often enough to be called natural variance. That can also be applied to the gender and sexuality diverse phenomena although the more extreme cases do cause problems; most of those are due to your culture.” Hap said in a way that I could almost see her shaking her head.
“However as you pointed out and your experiences in that alternate timeline demonstrate, as people become more educated and knowledgeable, the intolerance will lessen.
“Right now, I have a birthday present for you.” Hap said.
“A present?” I asked. She was an alien CI computer. Should I be concerned about gifts?
She laughed, “You’ve said before how much you like being with Vonda and doing things with her. The dancing has come up more than once. I’ve prepared a download for you on various popular dances currently being taught. That should put you on a even footing. Like the other downloads it won’t teach you how to dance, but rather help you learn at an increased rate. However, I won’t do it unless you want it.”
Thinking about it I said, “Yes, and thank you!”
“Good,” she replied. “I will begin once you fall asleep. Just keep your kernel close.”
I laid there enjoying the breeze from the window fan. Looking up at the stars, I wondered which one she’d come from. That was one of the things she’d never revealed. “Hap, and thank you too, for listening. I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”
“Again isn’t that what you’ve told me friends do? In your other life, you never got the chance to develop and grow up as you should. Here you are and it’s not always easy. Besides, I’m learning more about humanity by being your friend. Everyone wins,” Hap said.
I nodded as sleep overtook me. “Good night Hap.”
Softy in the southern night, she whispered back, “Good night Lee.”
The last day school was here, yay! With final exams right after my birthday there was no time to advantage of my new freedom. Tonight was our last really free day because the next week we go to work. Ricky was determined for us to see ‘Smokey and the Bandit.’
Vonda and I engineered a silent protest. Both of us got such looks at school, but it was the last day. Most of it was only turning in books and picking up grades. However, our protest was tasteful and fell within the school’s strict dress code. Still the Headmaster gave us such a look. It was simply … hmmm, pop culture.
Ricky glared as he saw our matching ‘Honeybun’ do’s. “No way! We saw Star Wars last time!”
He turned to Hal who was trying and failing to look manly disinterested. If he’d wouldn’t be killed for trying, hell, he would’ve shown up in Leia’s ‘honey-buns’ too. Good thing his hair was far too short unlike Vonda’s and mine.
With Hal and my space and artistic bent, it wasn’t a surprise we were ready to see it again. Vonda kind of surprised me. Then again, Leia was a strong female character even if her role was kinda secondary. Plus I’m the first to say Carrie Fisher is cute. Could be Vonda had a thing for girls who could shoot their way out of impregnable fortresses!
In the end, we ate at Burger King and saw Burt, Sally and Jackie. I must say, I thought there was a lot more changes to this film than Star Wars. Much of the ‘I can’t drive 55,’ thing was the heart of Smokey’s bad boy jive, but here the speed limit was never reduced. Still fun, just different that’s all.
Saturday was the day we turned my bedroom into production facilities. Mom and Daddy okayed our plan, but with a few additions. He was getting a little old for all of the farm work, plus they didn’t want us turning into mushrooms being inside all day. So the deal was mornings when it was cool inside, we work on the book, but light farm work such picking and packing in the afternoons.
Considering how hyperactive I am, I knew I would be working out hard in the evenings. I wanted to keep doing all I was doing already, but needed to work that dancing ‘download’ into my muscle memory.
While we were moving my loft bed, Vonda asked me why I had it right up against the windows anyways. The thing is heavy because the bed part was high up enough so I could sit at a desk fitted underneath as well as have a lot of storage area. It was a nice space saver design from my old closet sized room. However, I like it and when I got my bigger room, I’d kept it.
Smiling I pointed out the window to the sky. “At night I can see the whole southern sky. I like looking up at the stars wondering what’s there.”
With the scant privacy, she gave me a quick hug. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re such a romantic and a dreamer.”
Returning her affection, I smiled. “You’re just figuring that out?”
Our intimate moment was interrupted, yet again, by the boys returning with Hal’s drawing table that my father had knocked together.
However, her comment had touched on a sensitive subject. I was a romantic and a dreamer. By Gawd I loved happy endings and what was wrong having your head in the clouds? It did cause a problem because I still hadn’t committed myself to a career yet.
Yeah, despite my Career Day experience. When I’d walked down that hallway in the bus looking at all of those images, they displayed my interests and aptitudes. It was a little like old Meyers-Briggs personality tests, but went much further with the help of a powerful calculator like Hap the CI.
All the archetypes portrayed were possibilities, but the one that ‘lit’ up was her best guess. Hap’s suggested career for me, was, wait for it, a writer or journalist.
On the other hand, the space program had reached the point where it wasn’t about just national prestige anymore. When the Ares 4 mission to the near Earth asteroid Eros found that lump of extremely rare metals, it’d damn near paid for the whole mission. After that everyone scrambled for the next ‘gold’ rush that was out there. Of course it wasn’t just gold, but a slew of valuable metals that were there for the taking.
Other nations that never had much of a space program in my timeline were out-there now. Great Britain, France and West Germany had an uneasy alliance, but the money kept them together.
The USSR was pumping big, big bucks into their program too. They reached Ganymede and were still there. Their five year mission took advantage of the asteroid’s five year long orbital path. While mining, they enjoyed taking the scenic route as Ganymede crossed Mars’ orbit and went as far out as half way to Jupiter.
Big business was getting its start too out in the final frontier, with NASA offering contracts to mine the Moon and Eros. The jury was still out over the USA claims over Eros. Time will tell.
The point was I wanted to be out there too. But, I also love to write. I always had. From the time I was kid and grown old in my old timeline, to my life in this new one, I wrote. The problem was they were two separate career paths. The one leading to space demanded technical trades and science, while the one as a writer leaned in the other direction with the humanities.
Now I know many fine writers came from the science fields. Going technical didn’t mean I couldn’t write. It did mean I would probably have to set aside my writing while studying. I wasn’t sure I wanted, could, do that.
One of the prime reasons I wrote children style stories right now was because of Hal. It gave him a chance he never had before to showcase his talents and earn him the way to become Teresa.
Vonda refined her own career goals to go to medical school. What she did do well was organize. She kept us on track and helped define our goals while Hal and I concentrated on the creative aspects.
That didn’t keep my muse from whispering other tales in my ear. I felt torn because I didn’t want to abandon my friends. If I went technical, Hal would be left behind. Vonda on the other hand would be welcomed anywhere. I had no doubts she could complete medical school with honors. Doctors were always needed. I know I had to live my own life, but that didn’t make this any easier.
And I’m not even thinking about the increasing complications of knowing about Hap and the truth behind much of this world’s technical advancements. I didn’t regret my friendship with her for an instant, but in a lot of ways, I was only sixteen.
That evening watching the sunset with my friends, I put my worries aside. The scent of charcoal starting fluid was on the wind promising dinner was underway. “Bob Seeger’s Hollywood Night’s” played on Adam’s little radio in the distance. Hugging them to me, I vowed once again to be true to my heart.
Arm in arm with Hal sandwiched between us, Vonda and I walked in downtown St. Michaels. Well, really there wasn’t that much to the town. It had both a Winn Dixie and a Piggly Wiggly grocery store, and a number of local businesses, but that was about it. Just your normal small American town if there is such a thing.
Our first week at work went pretty good, although we all had sunburns despite being cautious. At least I could tan now! However, the reason we were here today was Ricky. He was running late and we decided to meet him halfway to save time.
Of course what goes better on a hot summer day than ice cream! Fortunately for us, St. Michael’s one and only drug store still had its soda fountain. One of our classmates worked there, Green. Sporting red dyed hair, Laurie was always upbeat and flamboyant to a fault. She was one of my classmates I was fairly certain were already sexually active. Not that I cared because, she’d always been friendly to all of us.
True to form she smiled wide as we came in. “Hey! Wow, ya’ll shore got some sun this week.
Did I mention she had a little bit of an accent? Assuming the 80’s went the same way, I had no problems seeing her with big hair in a few years, really big hair.
“Sure Laurie,” I answered smiling back. “I want a chocolate shake.”
Hal got a chocolate like mine, but Vonda got a vanilla with chocolate shavings on top. I wondered if I could invent chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream a few years early. Somehow I had the feeling she’d love it.
We dug into our frozen treats while Laurie, talked our ears off about her latest boyfriend. “Glenn is supposed to pick me up at seven when I get off work. Then we’re off to see “The Deep” with Nick Nolte. He’s got such a cute butt!”
I had to keep from choking on chocolate. There was enough straight girl in me to appreciate the statement, but I knew something she didn’t. Nick turned more than a little weird as he aged.
Vonda giggled, “These two have us going back to see Star Wars, again.”
Rolling my eyes, I held my hand over my heart. “Oh, Harrison Ford is just so hard on the eyes.”
Laurie got this sparkle as she breathlessly remarked, “You know, Mark Hamil does have the bluest eyes.”
Poor Hal turned red as he silently agreed, but Vonda came to his rescue. “I’m sure no here wanted to see Carrie Fisher again.” She said playfully pushing him.
Getting into the game, I mimed, “Help me Obi Wan Hal you’re my only hope!”
Giggling, we didn’t see trouble walking in.
The Imperial March started playing in my head. Instead of ominous black, he wore blue jeans and a Tee with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve. He also missed having storm troopers with him having a pair dressed much like him.
Chris Sawyer with Mike Burns and Russ Chastain swaggered in. All three were jocks, and on most the teams given our school was so small. Chris was the real trouble maker of the bunch. Rumor had his father being a real hard case, and the bruises the jock came to school with seemed to confirm it.
One of the ugly things of the time period was that kind of thing was often ignored. In true manly southern fashion he took it out on everyone else, including my circle of friends. However normally Ricky was enough of a deterrent for him to leave it at verbal harassment.
Okay, maybe not Darth Vader. He was more like a punk with too much to prove. But today we were without our protector and Chris had backup. Mike and Russ wasn’t that bad, just normal testosterone overdosed teenage jocks. Right now, that was more than bad enough.
Laurie bless her heart, wasn’t all that slow. She saw Chris heading our way and came up with trouble. “Maybe ya’ll should exit stage left, if ya’ll know what I mean.” She said lifting the gate so we could head out the backdoor.
Vonda and Hal quickly got the idea as they saw who was coming our way. Ducking though the storage room we found ourselves in the alley between Wannamaker Hardware and Zimmer Drugs.
We didn’t make more than a step, before Mike and Russ stepped into the mouth of alley blocking our escape. That was all it took for us to take off running the other way.
I heard Laurie giving Chris hell, but I’d figured out his plan. Big yes, but unfortunately not so dumb. Going the other way meant a longer run and while he knew I could run circles around him, Vonda and Hal, not so much. They could run us down before reaching the other end, out of sight to do whatever they wanted to.
My hand ripped away the Velcro panel that concealed my equalizer. The old heavy modified car antenna was made of much heavier steel than today’s. Back in the 60’s, New York gangs made the things weapons, that law enforcement outlawed. They were the ancestors of the retractable security batons like the Asp.
“Don’t stop!” I yelled at my friends. “I’m fast enough to outrun them.” I tossed my purse into Vonda’s arms.
Thankfully for once I wasn’t wearing a dress on date night. Tired from the week’s work I’d dressed down with shorts and no they weren’t Daisy Dukes! I chose as best a place as I could for my stand.
I spun around with my wand of doom shielded from view behind me.
Chris charged as if I were the opposing quarterback at the Friday night football game. So this was how a matador felt with near a ton of mad bovine wanting his blood. The jock had a foot or more on me and nearly half again my weight.
In my corner, I had a card up my sleeve. Pardon the pun, but a Wildcard. I might be only five two, but I was the most concentrated little package Hap could put together. I might not be the dynamo my idol Bruce Lee was, but I thought it a good guess I was as close to a female version the alien CI could come up with.
What shifted the odds in my favor was the Matrix-like skill downloads. Poor Neo didn’t have it anywhere close to right with, “Hey, I know Kung Fu.”
Wanna’ try most of the alphabet starting with Aikido and going all the way down the list to Zipota? I had only myself to blame since Hap was aware of my fascination with the Martial Arts. The problem was the knowledge was in your head, but more than a little of really knowing an art was in your whole body up to and including your very spirit. Yeah, I was into the philosophy thing too, so sue me!
It’d taken me ages of really working out hard to take all that knowledge and incorporate into anything useful. Honestly, if not for my friendship and correspondence with the Lee’s I might’ve been lost. Jeet Kune Do is all about taking and using whatever works. That helped great, big lots!
Besides I’m about three quarter positive that Linda’s Jeet Kune Do experiences were one of those I received. All those I’d received also told me something about Hap. She had access to absolutely everyone’s memories who’d been though a med-scanner. Scary huh? From world leaders to a certain time traveling little gal running in an alley in Redneck USA, Hap had us all.
I still wondered if she had any other motives than her healer ethics. She is an alien construct after all. On the other hand it really didn’t matter since I had to trust her. Hap had been in and out of my head so many times that if she was up to no good, my goose was already cooked and on the table ready to be served.
Although the USA had started distributing med-scanners to other countries, the communist bloc could go fish. So how do Red big wigs, up to and including Brezhnev start acting a lot more stable and looking a lot more healthy than I remembered? It was a sure thing the USSR at the very least had one. The question is did they manage to procure all on their own or did Hap help a little to spread her influence?
How did any that apply to my present circumstances? Well MAD comes to mind, Mutually Assured Destruction.
These guys were a lot bigger than I and by Gawd size does matter. For me to put them down and out, I could not hold back. All it would take would be for one to pin me and that was it folks, game over. I might be strong as hell for my size, but I couldn’t even begin throwing 220 lbs of football player off of me.
Master Bruce could manage, but he had years of practice sparring against guys this size. The only opponents I had were Darryl and occasionally Adam when I could talk him into it. While Darryl loved being bounced around, Adam hated the thought of a girl, me, doing the same to him. I tried getting Ricky to help out, but even when he was helping on Da’ Car his time was at a premium. So I had a lot of knowledge and doing katas, but very little time on the mat.
However that also meant at the very least broken bones and maybe worse. The broken two by fours and bricks I’d practiced on assured me of that. However, that lead to hospital, police reports, and possibly others things I really didn’t want to think about. I’d made some powerful friends in the few years since I started living my life over. I would rather not put any of it to the test. That was MAD, Mutually Assured Destruction, all of us would lose.
Somehow, I had to moderate my response. Easy right? You tell yourself that as Mongo is thundering towards you. Fear might be the mind killer, but it sure as hell was telling me fight or flee would be a great idea about now.
As Chris reached me, I decided to start with the ‘Jays,’ Judo. It’s not as if I had much choice given the situation, and was the least damaging of my options.
He flew though the air just like a scene from a movie. What can I say? The throw was designed for exactly that kind of attack. When he hit the pavement flat on his back even I winced. That had to hurt!
Time for a little show-woman-ship, I whipped my baton around continuing my spin to face the other two. The snick-clack of it extending was perfect punctuation to my statement. “Go away or there will be trouble!”
I was reminded of the old Champions superhero role playing game I used to play a lifetime ago. Presence attack to awe your opponents into surrendering: Displaying overwhelming effective use of power, three D6, Displaying weapon: add one D6, Using good soliloquies add two more D6.
Somewhere in the multi-universe, I must’ve rolled those dice pretty darn good, because Mike and Russ skittered to a stop.
Their expressions were priceless. Whatever they’re expecting, Chris demonstrating how not to fall properly from a Judo throw wasn’t it.
He chose that moment to moan.
That was actually a relief since I worried that the big idiot might’ve given himself a concussion when he landed so badly.
Decision time: This was over. “Get him out of here.” I turned sharply snapping my baton under my arm seemingly making it disappear in the alley’s dim light. Then I simply walked away. A good show can be worth a thousand words or something like that I misquoted.
By the time I reach Vonda and Hal the adrenaline shakes were still going strong.
He said a little awed, “I knew you were into the martial arts, and I’ve seen you kicking the crap out of that bag of yours, but that was something else!”
Vonda started to say something and stopped as she saw me shaking.
Making sure we were out of sight of the three dufesses in the alley, I used the wall of the hardware store to retract my baton.
Her eyes cut to the alley as she worked out why I moved. Then she gently hugged me. “Oh Lee,” my dear friend whispered.
Hal, aware we were in the public eye, held both of us. He softly directed my attention to across the street. “Lee look.”
There was Ricky grinning and sauntering along as if he’d not a care in the world. A frown crossed his face as he took in our mood.
It took a few minutes to let him know what happened, and then calm him down. About then one of St Michael’s entire police force of three cops showed up along with a furious, but worried Laurie and Mr. Zimmer the Drug store’s owner.
I gave my friends warning glares not to tell all the details. We saw trouble and we ran. That’s it. No need for more than that. Chris knew the hard way now that I could defend myself, but that was between us.
Officer Brown just looked at Chris shakily limping out and then back at us. He knew something else had gone down.
I however didn’t want to be searched given my illegal equalizer in my purse.
As much trouble as Chris had given me over the years I still winced when he said he slipped and fell. How many times had he given that excuse over the years?
Since we didn’t want charges, that was that. Well, almost since Mr. Zimmer had him on disorderly. He ran paying customers out of the Drugstore. Later on, I learned the Judge, sentenced him to work a few hours for Mr. Zimmer. Hopefully that’ll make the bully think, but didn’t do anything about the problem I think Chris had at home.
We talked about calling it a night, but I still wanted to see the movie. This was still a minor thing, I argued. Besides we got only one day a week to hang out, so let’s make the best of it.
It had the side benefit of Ricky taking us to Marvin’s without a compliant. Of course since we weren’t really dating who everyone thought we were, he wasn’t actually paying for mine. It was Vonda who insisted on picking up mine, while Ricky was taking care of Hal. The whole thing was a little complicated because I wanted to take care of Vonda at the movie. We simply settled up at the end of the night. Our strange arrangement seemed to work because everyone was happy.
The one person who really benefited from this was Hal. His food and movie was paid for by Ricky who said that if he was dating then his date wasn’t paying for anything.
Jesting that because of that, maybe I was reconsidering, Ricky as my boyfriend, we all laughed as Teresa peeked out of Hal’s eyes. “He’s mine. Hands off!”
Vonda had a similar reaction. “Nothing doing Lee. Don’t even think about it. You’re mine.”
I don’t know about them, but I got the most delicious shivers hearing that. The whole possessive thing could turn bad, but in our first flush of teenage passions it felt good to know someone you cared about wanted you.
Even Ricky enjoyed the movie the second time around, although Vonda and I did more snuggling than last time. Despite my insistence on carrying forward, my fracas did upset me. Nestling next to my girlfriend while enjoying one of my favorite comfort flicks was exactly what I needed.
Less enjoyable was what came afterwards, telling Mom and Dad. There just wasn’t any choice in the matter. They would find out about it. Small towns’ gossip traveled fast. Minor or not, Chris’s act of stupidity would be the ‘talk’ of the town for weeks.
I thought about giving them the edited version, but decided against it. The bit of blackmail about Chris’s spectacular ungraceful flip and fall was protection. I didn’t think he would try it again, and I would continue to travel in a group.
They didn’t react well. Mom didn’t quite freak, and Dad didn’t break out the guns, but that wasn’t saying much. I did get a stern talking to, about what I should’ve done, which was stay where we were in a public place and called for help.
I don’t really think that would’ve helped much since bullies always seem to know what they could get away with. Maybe our ‘flight’ reflexes did lead us into greater trouble, but our trouble was more than willing to escalate matters.
The real problem hadn’t been addressed anyways. It was probably too late for that. I’m talking about why Chris went after me from the very first all those years ago. It did seem he was and is being abused at home. Now, this might sound strange, but I don’t have a problem with some kids needing a stern hand. Hell, Adam was a text book case!
However, discipline and good parenting doesn’t include contusions and broken bones. So just how do I fix this? This time I’m afraid I can’t. The best I could do is call attention to the situation.
Talking to Hap later that night, even she had her figurative hands tied. Messing around with someone’s head was one of her big no-no’s. Right now whatever inner healing Chris needed was limited to human knowledge. Maybe the CI that handled that function for Hap’s crew had been one of those that’d gotten trashed.
Sadly she told me, “Lee the hardest thing for any healer to learn is that you can’t help everyone. No matter how powerful your talents or how many resources at your disposal, some are going to continue to hurt and to die. Sometimes nature has to take her course, because trying to help will only make things worse.”
“Hap, I’m not a doctor or nurse. I only want to make thing better. Is that so much to ask?” I replied feeling guilty. “Maybe if I’d been paying attention from the start I could’ve done something.”
“Lee,” she said gently, “You mostly certainly are a healer. Perhaps you don’t practice medicine, but that isn’t what makes a healer. You are a healer because you use words to help, to nurture others. In my opinion the tools you use are as powerful as any my creators have given me. You speak for tolerance and understanding. Your friend Hal’s pictures reach out and touch others with their message while your gentle words calm and comfort.”
“It is who you are. Even as someone who has never given you anything, but grief you were concerned and even now you can’t help yourself, but want to heal.
“But you can’t heal the world, Lee. No one can, not even me. Here at this time and place, only Chris can heal Chris. All we can do is keep our hearts from hardening and be there when he falls. Already he has an addiction and I fear other worse substances will soon follow. Those I can help him with, but I can’t, won’t, invade his mind changing who he is. It is the challenges we overcome that give us our strength. If you take that away you might save him pain, but you are not doing him any favors,” Hap said.
“You mean like with Hal,” I asked, “You could’ve changed him into Teresa years ago when you transformed me, but you didn’t.”
She sighed, “Very much like your friend. Her physical sex needed to be brought into line with her feminine gender. However it was her strong belief that her life would be in danger from her own Father that prevented me from doing so.
“I’m not infallible, Lee. At times I’m dependent on second hand information like with Teresa. I make mistakes that cost lives and that hurts. However, I can’t quit because that would make things even worse. In the end I can only do so much and that has to be enough,” Hap explained.
Memories surfaced of a T-girl who’d frozen to death on a church steps because the local mission wouldn’t let her be housed with the other women. Fearing rape in the men’s shelter, she’d instead died. Or others who’d died simply because of who they were. Killed by those who didn’t regard them as even human. I’d grieved then and again now. What part of Thou Shall Not Kill did they misunderstand?
I hugged my stuffed bear, feeling my eyes sting. “I get it Hap, but it still hurts!”
Her voice gently lured me to sleep. “I know dear one. I know.”
Chris took a drag on his cigarette. His father punished him using the same wide leather belt he always did. It wasn’t for trying to beat up that little freak, but for getting caught.
From his earliest memory his Old Man blathered about the strong and the weak. If you weren’t one you were the other. Every time Chris had broken some rule real or imagined, he gotten the hell whipped out of him.
Right now he was standing, because it still too soon after the last beating to sit down. It didn’t bother him too much because it was only pain after all. Besides he needed to think and he did that better on his feet.
Only he, Mike and Russ knew what really happened out back of Zimmer Drugs. That little freak had thrown him though the air with some kind of that Kung Fu shit. It really didn’t upset him. Keeping hole cards and tricks hidden till you need them were all part of being strong. What bothered him was why she did it.
Once that slut, Laurie, saw them, Chris knew what was up. That was why he sent Mike and Russ back outside to block the alley. He knew just how fast the freak could run. With them outside making sure she couldn’t get by, he could trap her. It would’ve worked if Laurie hadn’t turned into a screaming bitch and slowed him up.
Even knowing there was no way to catch her, Chris had charged anyways. Giving up was never an option. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that while she could out distance him, Vonda and that fairy Hal didn’t have a chance.
He didn’t think at the time. All Chris saw was his real target waiting for him. Now however, he wondered why. All these years the little freak could’ve fought back, but was content to let Ricky play interference.
He had respect for his sports rival. Maybe Ricky was a freak too, but he’d proved himself to be strong and tough. The other freak, Lee, was entirely different.
From the first day at the new school Chris pegged the skinny, shy, red headed boy as weak. The smell of fresh paint was so strong they had to keep the windows open to have classes on those first couple of days. The freak stuttered and had trouble talking.
It was almost too easy to push him around, but Chris did it anyways. For the next, three years he’d made sure the wimp knew who was boss. Then that damn Career Day thing happened.
He crushed out his cigarette wincing at the memory. His father had really freaked out when he’d came home looking like a n----r. He’d gotten the shit really beaten out of him then. Even his mother, who was afraid to so much as lift a figure against his father, went crazy.
Chris had limped and peed blood for a week. That was nothing compared to what happened after they went back to school. He was honest enough to admit if it’d been him who was changed into a c--t, his father would’ve killed him. That was all there was to that. If being weak was bad, being female was worse. There were put on Earth for just one reason according to his father.
That bothered him some, but while his mother sometimes tried, she’d never been able to stop him from getting beaten by his father. That seemed to prove there was the weak and the strong and women were even further down the totem pole, the weakest.
So what happens? The red headed freak wants to stay a girl! The weak wanting to be prey. Of course he’d understood that the rules for picking on the freak had changed, but part of being strong was also being smart.
The other girls, even the ones that didn’t like the freak, helped protect her and then there was Ricky. He’d learned real fast that the ex-girl didn’t have any problem with going fists to cuffs. Only the weak hiding behind the strong, just like his father said.
So what happened Friday afternoon? There’d been no fear in her as he almost made the tackle. His father always said to care about anyone besides yourself was only another weakness. No reason to put yourself at risk if there wasn’t something to gain from it. She’d nothing at all, but she put herself in harm’s way anyways. So why?
And then there was the other matter. Even though only a junior, he shined as one of the best jocks at the Academy. He was big and getting bigger every day. Even now he was bigger than his Old Man. Sure he might be a few pounds lighter, but that was because he didn’t have 20 years of smokin‘, drinkin‘, and the beer belly that goes with all of that bad livin‘.
Tonight Chris saw for the first time the fear in the Old Man’s face when he realized that he was no longer the strongest one.
Did that mean he should be the one doing the beating? Would the Old Man hide behind someone stronger like the Sheriff who had the law on his side? If so then was all this shit he’d been talking for Chris’s entire life nothing but a lie?
Really for all his talk what had his father really done with his life? Owner of a one man car repair shop fixing other people’s problems in a small town no one had ever heard of. That didn’t sound very successful to Chris. He sure as hell wanted to do more with his life.
If he could keep his grades up and did well the next two years on the field, he’d kiss this place goodbye forever.
Inside the Old Man was raising hell, drunk yelling at Chris’s mother who was just as soused. No, Chris was staying out here until both were passed out. From the sounds of it that wouldn’t be long.
Besides he had more thinking to do about Why?
When a friend asks for help, Lee just can't say no, but what kind of trouble could Hap have? Big Trouble!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine
I shook my head. “No, you two go on. It’s alright. It’s not your fault Ricky’s busy tonight. Besides, If I tag along that’ll mess up our fiction that you two are an item.”
Both my friends gave me doubtful looks.
Vonda’s eyes told me volumes. These last few weeks had been wonderful. Despite this being a farm and all the stories of sneaking off behind the barn, we still hadn’t gotten our kiss. With a teenage younger brother just entering his testosterone storm, he was watching the only examples of available womanhood like a hawk does a mouse.
Thankful, I missed most of that ogling. Adam had come to terms that Ernie was gone, and Lee was here to stay baby. On the other hand, I couldn’t blame him too much for looking at my girlfriend. Vonda was turning into a true beauty.
With the combination of odd jobs around the farm, and joining in my crazy workouts, she was really blossoming. Nicely toned from all the activity, she stood at five feet six; four inches taller than I. Her dark brandy hair glowed with copper highlights from time outside picking vegetables. The exercise and dancing gifted her with a graceful walk that I’d sought all my life. Truly she flowed, sweeping all along with her. Even without that bedeviling missing kiss, the happiness just being together suggested that I was right. It was love.
Right now she without saying a word made my heart beam in joy knowing she felt the same way.
Then there was Hal. He was miserable. Not only because he was splitting us up tonight, but because he was missing Ricky. The two really hit off together. Then there’s his frustration over the circumstances that was keeping Teresa in the closet. That kind pain I knew all too well.
I didn’t think he was going to do something foolish. However, he was begrudging every minute till we could graduate. Two years till he could dare cast off his disguise, and mask. Two lifetimes till she could spread her wings and be free.
Sometimes I still cried. Hap and her Med-scanner gave all of us gender mixed and confused a chance at finding our best balance for being at ease with ourselves. In my original timeline, we could only make do with imperfect transitions using hormones and surgery.
However as wonderful as Hap’s methods were, Career Day opened a tabooed door. It’d given so many of us a taste of the forbidden. That was bad because society wasn’t ready to even consider transgenders as acceptable, medical condition or not. Too many were like Hal’s father who regarded their children as things and belongings to do with as they pleased. But now that Hal sampled that fruit, he yearned for more with every once of her soul.
I saw no solutions other than killing his sum’bitch of a father. While the red neck racist pissed me off to no end, I couldn’t go that far. Recent events reassured me that I wasn’t a murderess.
So while both Vonda and I offered shoulders to cry on, I also encouraged Hal to work out as much of his frustrations as I dared. Half the time I was afraid I pushed the meditation and spiritual aspects of the martial arts too zealously. On the other hand, variants of that philosophy helped keep me sane in another world that might have been and not so far away. Who was I kidding? It was still keeping me more or less sane.
If Hal was going to make it, she needed to be strong as well as have good friends. Besides, with his Father being the way he was along with such classmates like Chris Sawyer, knowing how to handle yourself was damn near a necessity.
I kinda got my own prejudices thrown in my face. Hal was so damn delicate for a teenage boy, that I assumed he was physically weak. Nothing doing! For ages he’d been Vonda’s secret dancing partner, and had no problems keeping up with her. He might not have the bulk of a line backer, but instead had the slim body of a swimmer or runner. Our artist friend had endurance to spare.
That gave me the idea to try something else. I’ve already admitted that even as a child in my previous existence, I’d idolized Bruce Lee. Finding myself back in if not my past, but a past before he died, I spent him a letter. Knowing he was proud of his body, instead of saying I knew he was going to die of a cerebral edema, I suggested the diagnostic capabilities of the med-scanner could provide a useful picture of what he was doing right and offer vindication of his methods.
Much to my relief it worked. His problem was found and fixed before it caused him trouble. More, my letter began a long range sorta kinda friendship with us writing back and forth. In that first letter I’d asked for advice how to develop myself considering my small size. Master Lee sent me copies of his books, autographed no less! He’d even taken the time to highlight areas I should pay special attention to because of my sex and size.
However, I also have some special advantages. Although I can’t pack on muscle mass like he could, I was still a Wildcard. In my case it meant, I got a lot of bang for my buck with every hour of working out. I could duplicate a lot of his incredible feats. My power to weight ratio was out of this world which let me do some really way out acrobatics.
The problem was Jeet Kune Do was anything, but defensive. Master Lee believed that the best defense was a strong offense. That worked for me, even as small as I was given my advantages. I, however, had doubts that would work for Hal and Vonda given their lesser skill levels and the limited time they were able to train.
My experiences with Chris in that ally suggested another possibility, Parkour. ‘l'art du déplacement’ literally means the ‘art of displacing.’ It’s the art of using your body the most efficiently way possible to negotiate obstacles. It had about a decade to go before it gets developed into the form I knew from my time in 2010. The running, jumping, and sliding around, over, and under anything in their way. Some of their feats were astounding with scaling high walls and safely falling from high heights.
Another problem was I’d never studied the art. However it was perfect for teaching someone how to run away. Remembering Jackie Chan’s agile big screen antics, I thought Master Lee might be able to help. Writing to him, he suggested several sources.
Of all the things I missed and still miss about the future, the internet is number one. No Amazon or Barnes and Noble website where you could search for the book you wanted, order it and have it on your doorstep in three days. Finding the book, seeing who had it in stock, and some cases having to send the payment in before they would ship, was a royal pain.
One of the key things I remembered from my time about Parkour was that it was dominated by the guys. Lacking the upper body strength, girls needed to come up with new ways of getting around certain obstacles. Additionally, while a farm offers a wide variety of obstacles, it rather lacks the walls, railings, steps and other terrain of towns like where my friends lived.
I’d seen Vonda and Hal’s neighborhood so I had a good idea of if something did go bad what they would be facing. Right there I decided to narrow things down for my friends’ needs. We would train in every Parkour skill I could remember and redevelop, but we would focus on their particular home environment.
As a new Traceuse, that is a female practitioner of Parkour, I did my best to kill as many birds with one stone as I could. At first I tried the new maneuver on my own carrying my ‘pinecone.’ That let me practice and allowed me to get feedback from Hap on how well I did. Of course it also gave me protection from my own first clumsy efforts with her there ready to do her healing thing.
Then I tried the same thing without its protection. Okay I admit I was paranoid about losing the CI artifact. However my efforts paid off. Oh the look on Vonda and Hal’s faces as I ran up a tree. Then it got serious as I show them how to speedily and safely get down from a height such as two story bedroom window like at their homes.
Once or twice I thought they were going to tell me to stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine however it is exhilarating do it and look back at just what you accomplished. On the other hand, Mom surprised me by helping. She might be so country that it hurts sometimes, but never ever slow. I think she understood at least in part of what I was trying to do. With her own history of abuse, pushed by my recent experience with Chris Sawyer, she gave her approval by pushing my friends along.
Of course where she and I was, little brother Darryl wasn’t far behind. Soon he was doing vaults and tumbles too. It was just like when he tried to copy me as I worked on assimilating all the martial arts downloads Hap gave me. He kept it up and was pretty darn good for a first grader. Darryl used to bug me, asking what kind of belt he had. I laughed and stole Pat Morita’s line, “JC Penny!” That used to make him so upset, but now it was our private joke.
Besides I told him if ever found out he use it to bully others, I would spank him so hard he wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week. I suppose that was another reason why I stressed the philosophy so much. I was well aware of how it could be misused. Plus Mom was there too keeping both of us on the straight and narrow.
What does all of that mean? Well I got a lot less sleep with all the working out, and was dateless for tonight.
Determined not to mope, I told them, “Hey you two. It’s really alright. This is a perfect time for me to take Adam and Darryl out. Can’t neglect my brothers can I?”
They laughed. Adam made it no secret at all that he wanted to see Burt Reynolds and Jerry Reed breaking the law. However little brother Darryl wanted to see Jedi Knights. While both Smokey and Star Wars were both PG, Mom was the tie breaker. The violence was one thing, but the profanity was another. Adam was going to have to wait to get his Trans-Am fix.
Personally, I thought this universe’s version of Pontiac’s car was hideous. But you know boys! Somehow once they begin talking about cubic this and displacement that, they lose their minds! It either looks good or it doesn’t. Like a certain Vida Boheme once said, “Style or Substance?”
I gave my friends a hug before they climbed in Vonda’s Lincoln land barge. “Have fun.”
Hal grinned, “May the Force be with you!”
Holding up my hand with my ring and middle fingers parted, I replied, “Live long and prosper. See ya‘ll tomorrow.”
It was going to be a long day. We all had to be up early. Saturdays were busy days for us with folks from Columbia cruising around looking for fresh produce.
He rolled his eyes, “You know Vonda is going to call you as soon as we get back tonight.”
Laughing, she smacked his shoulder.
I knew my face must’ve looked as wistful as Vonda’s as they left for St. Michael’s. Damn, but didn’t I have to figure some way for us to get that kiss!
“Mom!,” I called going inside. “Is it cool I take the boys to Star Wars, liked we talked about, tonight? Ricky had something come up. His Uncle has him working late.”
She smiled shaking her finger at me. Mom wasn’t anyone’s fool. She knew I deliberately was making opportunities for her and Dad to have ‘together’ time. “Sure you can dear. Why don’t you go and get cleared up? I’ll hunt ‘em down and hose them off.”
Giggling, that was only half in jest. Depending how filthy they were because of whatever mischief they’d gotten into, she just might! “Sure Mom!”
For me it was pretty fast considering I jumped in and out of the shower. I just wanted to be clean. My hair always takes me the longest, but Mom helped dry and braid it again as the boys bathed. With hers also being long, it was something we helped each other with. It’d become one of those mother and daughter bonding things.
The dark red highlights from our trip to my Aunt’s had lightened to a medium red from all the time outdoors working. I think Mom really liked the way it looked, but I kinda liked the darker look. She’d even been making noises about making another appointment for us to get pampered.
My Mom caring this much about her appearance? She even wore a bit more makeup than she used to, with me dating now. Giving me a hug, she said, “We old ladies have to keep up with you young things somehow.”
Hugging her back, I replied, “Lady, yes, but never old!” Besides I knew she wanted to look nice for Dad. Tonight I wasn’t wearing much war paint anyways. Just a little lipstick and a touch of eye shadow, since this was only my brothers and me this evening.
I squarely blame my life in the previous universe for my girliness. There, I was hampered in truly being me, but here was a different story. As much as I truly loved being near superhuman, expressing, reveling in, my femininity made me even happier. So yes, I wore makeup, dresses, and heels, and cherished every moment. While I wasn’t going all glam, my jeans, blouse, and hair, my outfit didn’t leave any doubt I was a young woman.
The contrast was night and day with my brothers with their short cut hair dripping wet pulling on T-shirts, and me. I might be dressed casual, but had obviously taken care with my appearance unlike them.
Mom while trying to get Darryl’s hair combed stuck a ten spot in my purse. Oh yes, glory be the days when 10$ would get three into the movies with even some left over.
Waving of byes later, we were on our way. Instead of Peachburg, which was close to St. Michael’s, school, and where my friends lived, it was closer from where we lived, to head into Columbia, the big city. We made it to the theater with time to spare.
Elton John’s Crocodile Rock played on the radio as we pulled laughing into the parking lot. Although Adam grumbled a bit, because he would much rather be listening to John Denver, my brother and his country music!
Getting our tickets and letting Adam and Darryl spoil themselves with snacks I saw the looks I got. The boys doing the ogling were from the local high school because I recognized them. Back in that old life, my brothers and I had to drop out of the private school and go the public route because money got tight.
So I was in the position of knowing them, but they didn’t know me. I was guessing at least half the reason for their attention was because I was a new face. Off hand, it looked as if Career Day hadn’t changed this bunch’s juvenile behavior.
The leader was a spoiled brat by the name of Ron Jeffcoat. Every time he got in trouble his father bailed him out. The last I’d heard of him, Ron had finally found something his father couldn’t or wouldn’t ‘fix.’ My best guess was drugs, but it could’ve been something worse.
In the here and now, as long as he left us alone, I was cool. Admittedly, I was still paranoid from my experience with Chris. I still had my secret weapon in my purse. However, the theater lobby was busy enough we were left alone.
Making myself comfortable, I smiled as Darryl grasped when the monstrous star destroyer followed the title crawl. It kept coming and coming. Happily sighing, I enjoyed his wonder at seeing this for the first time.
Two hours later, we clapped as John William’s soaring theme signaled the ending. Even Adam liked it, although I suspected once was enough for him. On the other hand, Darryl looked as if, like me, once simply wasn’t going to be enough. Nice to know that some things did repeat themselves even in this other universe.
Chris snubbed out his Marlboro in disgust. Peachburg was just too damn close to St. Michael’s. He couldn’t even go to the movies without the finger pointing and whispers. The rumors had him from running into walls to that freak beating him up. At least Glenn and Mike kept their mouths shut. They after all knew he wouldn’t put up with their lip.
For that matter he had to get into any number of other faces too, but there were limits. With the word spread so far, he couldn’t stop everyone from flapping their lips. Leaning on old ladies would be a very bad idea with all four of St. Michael’s’ cops really watching him now.
Maybe three of them needed to have their Barney Fife-like one bullet in their pocket, but Sheriff Griffin wasn’t anybody’s fool. He’d explained what Chris already knew. As a minor, the disturbing the peace charge wouldn’t hurt his chances when the college football scouts came looking in a few years. However, getting caught at assault and battery was an entirely different ballgame.
Sternly, the Sheriff told him if he was angry to save it for football games. Letting it out in St. Michael’s was a surefire way of staying in the boondocks for the rest of his life. Fate had given him the talent and ability to make something of himself, don’t blow it.
Shaking his head, Chris dug out his wallet to purchase a ticket. He hadn’t known what to do when the Sheriff asked if there was anything he wanted to talk about. He’d gotten the feeling it was about his Dad’s ideas about discipline. Even if it was, he kept his mouth shut. What could the Sheriff do anyways? Besides Chris was the stronger now. Very soon in the future there would be no more so called spankings. They were only that if you wanted to call being whipped with a leather belt by a grunting 250 pound redneck such.
“One for Smokey and the Bandit,” he said stepping up to the window.
Taking his ticket, Chris saw the baby blue Studebaker sitting out there in the parking lot. ‘Oh hell, no!’ He thought. It couldn’t be. He’d rode nearly 50 miles just to stay away from that freak and the trouble she’d caused him.
He seriously thought about walking out, but he already had his ticket. Nothing to be done about it now. More than likely she and her weirdo friends would be watching that Star Wars crap again. Not him, screw that long ago in a galaxy far away crap. Some good old fashion speeding, beer and law breaking were just what he needed right now. Disrespect for authority, hell yes! Determined to enjoy his Friday evening, he took a deep breath, going inside the cool air conditioned theater.
Laughing little brother and us went out into the still hot southern summer evening. Happy or not I hadn’t lost situational awareness. Ron and his goon squad were following us.
What made me do a double take was Chris Sawyer sitting on his motorcycle. This was a long ways from his usual hangouts. He must’ve come out just before us because he was just now lighting up a cancer stick. He’d noticed me, but didn’t look as if he wanted to start anything. However he was watching Ron just like I was.
I wasn’t too concerned because we should make it across the heat shimmering parking lot to Da’ Car before they could reach us.
Then as one they began running. I thought about throwing Adam the keys, so he and Darryl could make a run for it, but I really doubted they would abandon me. Adam was too hard headed to obey me, and Darryl was as loyal as his backwoods blood could make a soul. Nothing for it, but to stick together and hope for the best.
In nothing flat, they raced ahead cutting us off. Swaggering Ron got in my face. “Hey sweet thing why don’t we go somewhere and get it on?” Then to my brothers he demanded, “You two get lost.”
My hand holding my purse grasped my hidden equalizer, the baton. “Why don’t you get out of my face Ron Jeffcoat. Then using my eidetic memory I named each of his goons. “I know you too, Tommy Browning, and Jeff Conroy.”
Then I turned back to him. “You’ve been told no. Now leave.”
Chris shook his head watching the freak and her brothers attracting trouble like flies to road kill. Personally he wasn’t impressed with the three dummies. Sure they were big, but he’d labeled the leader as a rich kid used to getting his way. Someone who played at being tough, but lacked real grit. The other two were only hangers-on riding on the rich boy’s coattails.
At first he almost missed it, but he caught her slipping out that rod or whatever it was out from underneath her purse. Glenn and Mike claimed it five feet long and looked liked a sword. He guessed she had a car antenna, maybe with something added to it to give some extra heft. That could be real nasty.
Clueless there didn’t see a thing. She was very good. If he hadn’t been watching for it, he’d never seen it. Then again Chris was expecting it. Like he thought, she was no one’s prey. She might be a freak and so small you wouldn’t think twice, but she was one of the strong.
Sitting there, he wondered how far this would go. Hell, this was more entertaining than the movie!
Ron’s two goons, knowing I could identify them, hesitated. Somehow I knew he wasn’t going to cave so easily. He didn’t.
Well on his way to six feet tall, Ron towered over me. He picked up my braid from my shoulder. “Who’s going to make me? You?”
I smiled as I prepared to ram my homemade security baton into his solar-plexus.
“If I were you, I would step away real slow before something very bad happens, asshole,” Adam said calmly.
At 14 younger brother was four inches taller than me. He still lacked Ron’s height, but Adam was built like a fire plug from all the hard farm work. He got their attention like I didn’t.
“So you’re going stop me and your sister from having a little fun?” Ron growled, but I notice he didn’t move a muscle.
Adam guffawed. “Me? Hell no! I’m not into that kind of stuff.”
Then he nodded at Darryl the first grader, who was standing just as he’d been taught, nice and loose, but focused.
“He is. Darryl how long have you been doing martial arts?” Adam asked.
Littlest brother answered, “Four years.”
Then smiling evilly Adam said, “What kind of belt you got and what are you going to do these guys?”
Darryl grinned. “JC Penny! First I’ll kick him in the knee,” little brother said pointing to Tommy. “Then I’ll punch the other one in the privates. When they’re both down, I’ll kick the one holding Lee behind his knee. After he falls, I’ll jump on his gut a few times to buy us time to get to the car.”
Ron stared at Darryl, but I know he didn’t see any fear. Little brother liked being bounced around. Then he’ll hop up and go charging in for more. Maybe being a little crazy does run in the family.
Little brother sighed looking disappointed, “But I won’t get a chance to do any of that.”
Adam not moving his eyes from Ron’s asked, “Well, why not?”
“Because Lee will have all three of them down before I can even do anything,” the eight year old complained looking up at the teenager that was double his size. He scolded Adam, “You know that.”
Younger brother walked up next to me and Ron. “You decided to pick on the wrong family. She’s got autographed books by Bruce Lee and he’s helping her write her own on how to deal with people just like you.” Adam stood at my shoulder silently declaring his intentions.
Chris spat. As much as he wanted to see just what the freak could do, Richie Rich shouldn’t be messing with the little kid. That was different. He was still deciding how much his dad had beat into him about the strong and weak was BS. Some might call him a bully, but high schoolers beating up second graders punched his buttons. Maybe it had something to do with the way his Dad treated him. Chris did know he couldn’t stand by and let it happen, damn it to hell.
He could see Richie Rich there was between a rock and a hard place. The asshole couldn’t back down without losing the respect of his cronies. On the other hand he really didn’t want to fight either. Chris wasn’t sure what they’d demanded of the freak, but he had a few guesses.
Kicking his bike to life, he gunned the throttle. Sure, he pushed other kids around, but that was to make certain they knew their place in the pecking order. Never ever did he had to push a girl into having sex. Even as a sophomore, he was one of the stars of the football team. Hell, they came to him.
One of the dopes was looking none too sure about this, but the other was going to stick it out to the end. Everyone else in the parking lot was doing their best to ignore what was happening. This time in the afternoon, it was mostly the crowd from the local high school who probably knew these losers.
Knowing he was going to hate himself in the morning, Chris jammed his cigarette between his teeth. Gunning his throttle again he roared over to them.
He was unsurprised when the freak’s head didn’t even twitch. Her head and eyes stayed locked on Richie Rich’s. She’d known all along exactly where everyone was. Her brother standing next to her cut his eyes over for an instant, but stayed focused. Hell, even the little kid stayed calm.
The three bullies were another story. Ole Richie was startled, and Mr. Hesitating and Unsure was ready to call it for the day. That left the last, not so smart, but loyal dummy wondering what to do.
Chris took a deep drag on his cigarette and tossed it away leaving a trail of sparks. “Lee, you saw Star Wars again? What is it with you and that movie? It was weird enough when you and Vonda came to school with your hair in those honey buns.”
The freak’s eyes still didn’t move. “My brothers hadn’t seen it yet, but yeah, I can’t seem to get tired of watching it. Hey it was the last day of school, and made a great prank. You here to see Smokey and the Bandit?”
Rich kid was getting itchy, as one of his followers started backing out. ‘Good,’ thought Chris. It was too damn hot to fight out here anyways. “Yeah, it must’ve let out a little before your show. It was pretty good.”
He got off his bike letting them see he was just as big as they were. “These fella’s giving you some problems?”
She replied, “Trouble? I don’t so. No one wants any of that do they Ron?” The freak said taking her hair back.
Ron looked at her one last time before deciding he didn’t like the odds. He then stepped back. Trying to look cool he turned and swaggered away. Chris heard him making up shit trying to save his tough guy reputation.
She turned to him curious. “Thank you, Chris. I really didn’t want to drag my brothers into that.”
Sparing them a glance, he saw they were still ready to fight. Both knew he was no friend to their sister. Nothing off of his back. His business was with her. “No thanks necessary. We’re even now.”
With that he got back on his bike. It was time to get back to his own stomping grounds. He had more thinking to do.
I watched Chris leave. He was the last person in the world I expected to ride to my rescue. Maybe he felt he owed me for keeping my mouth shut. Whatever it was, he considered us quits.
Turning, I watched the other bullies walk away. Part of me wanted to go and kick Ron’s ass on general principle. If he’d tried this on me, how many other girls had he raped? I half-seriously contemplate doing it anyways despite the attention it would cause. However, I did have my brothers to consider.
Then I smiled. I had something better. I had knowledge, fore knowledge. It was an act of willpower not to rub my hands together in glee. The State Attorney General and several others would be getting letters. With luck at least one would take allegations that Mr. Jeffcoat of the DA’s office was abusing his position to protect his son. If not there was always the press.
Opening the doors of the Da’ Car, we waited for the inferno inside to cool before daring to get in. “Adam, hey thanks.”
Younger brother gingerly slipped in wincing at the hot seats. “Lee there’s lots I just don’t get, but I know when something works. Mom doing all that girlie stuff with you makes her happy. Because she’s happy, Dad’s happy. Because they’re happy, we get to go to the movies and do a lot more other stuff. You spend more time with Darryl which make him happy. That makes me happy because I don’t have to watch him and get to do my own thing. We’re all happy. I’ll never understand you, but I ain’t no fool. As long as our kooky family is happy, no one, and I mean no one gets to screw it up. That means anyone who messes with you is messing with me.” He crossed his arms after having his say.
Damn if I didn’t want to hug him so hard his ears would pop, but I didn’t. Younger brother had come a long way from when I’d first walked off that Career Day bus. Perhaps he’d come even further from the man he’d grown up to be in another time and place. That proud to be a Red-Neck wouldn’t have bent enough to put his prejudices aside to say what he just did.
Instead, I gave him my biggest smile. “Thank you again, Adam. How about instead of burgers, we go to Duff's Smorgasbord? My treat.”
Both brothers sat up like a pair of hounds that just caught a scent. Nothing like an all you can eat buffet to catch these two’s attention.
Laughing, I let him at the radio. He couldn’t find any Denver songs, but soon we were listening to Glenn Campbell’s ‘Southern Nights.’ Carefully touching the hot steering wheel, I joyfully let the marginally cooler air flow over me singing along, “Southern Nights …”
Jeff Conroy watched the pristine Studebaker turn onto the main drag. Shaking his head, he looked over at Ron who was still talking trash to Johnny. It was just as well that big guy on the motorcycle had intervened. The whole thing was a bad idea from the very beginning.
The minute Ron saw her standing in line, he started running his mouth. She was really a looker even if she wasn’t a blond like he preferred. None of them had seen her around here before. That’s when Ron began saying he bet he could get her to give them all some nookie.
If they didn’t know her, then she didn’t know them. Who was she going to complain about? Besides even she did somehow identify them his old man would get them off. She was just a skirt after all. Her two brothers were younger, and what could they do against the three of them, all high school juniors?
Jeff didn’t think it was a good idea at all. He was thinking they could do plenty. The older boy was two or three years younger than them, but he looked pretty solid. Ron might be a city boy, but Jeff wasn’t. He knew how families from the backwoods could nurse and keep vendettas.
When he said something about that, Ron sneered that she would give it up even quicker if they threatened her brothers.
He sighed watching the sky blue car disappear into traffic. Why the hell did he ever listen to Ron any damn way? Sure he’d gotten away with a shitload of crap, but it wasn’t because he was cool, or tough. It was only because his daddy worked in the DA’s office.
Jeff’s Dad warned him time and again hanging out with Ron was bad news. He was beginning to see the truth of that. Look at what it’d cost him.
If Ron hadn’t shot off his mouth, Jeff might have had a chance of talking with her maybe even getting a date. If even part of what her brother’s were saying was true then she knew Bruce Lee! Plus she was writing a book? Hell, some of the kids in his class couldn’t even read.
Then there was how she’d faced down Ron. When he’d grab her hair, all she’d done was smile. There was no fear in those green eyes. She was different from any girl, he’d ever met before.
“Hey Jeff, come on!,” yelled Ron. “We’re going to use my special ID to buy some beer.”
Jeff closed his eyes knowing he meant the false one he carried. That’s it. He’d about enough of Ron. “I’m going to split. Got things to do.”
Ron shot him an unfriendly glare, but just waved dismissively.
Jeff didn’t miss the unheard snide comment that got a laugh from Johnny. It was probably something malicious about him. No, Ron wasn’t his friend. He was definitely tired of this crap.
Walking towards his own car, he found himself looking out where that Studebaker had disappeared. She just had something about her. Jeff had the feeling he’d be hearing about her again. What had her brother called her, Lee? No matter that was one face he was going to remember. Maybe it’ll be in a movie or on the cover of a book. Who knows, maybe he‘ll one day get the chance to apologize for being a stupid jerk.
Alone, he drove away lost in his thoughts wondering about could’ve been.
“Lee, I need your help.”
A few weeks had passed since I took my brothers to the movies. Shaking my head free of the dreams, I sleepily looked at my clock, 2:30.
“Lee,” the voice asked again.
Hap? I reached into the secret cubby hole where I’d hidden the small pinecone shaped gadget. The Alien AI gave the device to me so I could help my Mom. According to her, it was like her creators version of a first aid kit.
Smoky, my cat, meowed softly at having her rest disturbed. She curled up on my pillow as I sat up.
The metallic greenish spindle-like shape reminded me of a closed pinecone with its organic scaled pattern. I was kinda scared of the thing, but that didn’t keep me from using it. Mom’s transformation took care of her tobacco addiction, but not the habit. I used the thing to make the ‘taste’ of her cigarettes bitter a little at a time. More than a few times, I’d helped my family with semi-major injuries that are part of farm life. Of course they didn’t know it was me. You know the drill. “Hey that cut isn’t as bad as I thought after it was cleaned.”
Remembering a SF story, however, I made damn sure it hurt like nobody’s business. It would not do for anyone to get careless. Like I said farm life could be a tad dangerous.
I concentrated sub-vocalizing. “I’m here Hap.”
“Something bad is getting ready to happen. I need your help,” she said.
I was still blinking away trying to wake up. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and I’d stayed up later than I should’ve talking with Vonda on the phone.
“Hap, I have to get up in about three hours, can this wait? Besides what possibly can I do that you can’t?” I said letting my legs dangle off my high loft bed rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“I can only operate though immobile machines Lee. I don’t have arms and legs despite all I can do. You should be able to do this and get back home without anyone knowing.” She said in my mind.
“Okay Hap. What do you need?” I surrendered. There was simply too much I owed to blow her off.
“As you know since your ‘incident’ I’ve been much more careful about using my override to protect those who are in danger of abuse by med-scanner operators. Your own experiences showed me, that I’d caused the death of at least one innocent because my efforts backfired scaring your authorities into over reacting. For the most part, doing nothing has been wisest.”
“However, several units are in the hands of other governments now. In their efforts to circumvent my operating protocols they are endangering and threatening lives. This is causing a serious conflict with my programming and my innate purpose of healing. I want you to rescue these hostages and render that unit unusable.” She explained.
I had no idea if she could see my incredulous expression. “You’re kidding. Hap, I know I have 50 years plus of life experiences, but I’m not a secret agent or a combat solider. Right now I’m a teenage girl who’s only had her sweet sixteen birthday party a few months ago.”
“Lee, there is no one else. You’re the only one to ever get close enough to the interface sequence so I could fudge the rest. I sincerely hope conflict will not be necessary. In the event they do, you are well able to protect yourself. Not only are you supremely fit, but you also have the ‘downloads’ of several of your species’ most effective combatants. More, you’ve worked at integrating that knowledge into your muscle memory.
“My companions estimate that you have better than a 99.9 percent chance of success. Your arrival will be unexpected and you will have the advantage of surprise,” Hap paused. “Please?”
I sighed. There was no way I could in good conscience turn her down. I owed her not only my happiness but that of my Mom too. Besides, she was my friend and confidant. “Okay Hap, I’ll do it. I hope you have some means of rapid transportation. I think I left my invisible supersonic jet in my other pair of jeans.”
A flash of light disoriented me causing me stumble forward to keep from falling. Where in the hell was I? Looking around, I most certainly wasn’t in my bedroom.
“You’re in the secure storage area known as Hanger 51,” Hap answered.
“I thought you couldn’t do anything like this?” I said referring to the teleportation, and wondering what I’d let myself in for.
“I can’t. My companions decided to step in and assist given the circumstances,” She explained. “Even then this is not easy. Going from med-scanner to med-scanner isn’t too hard, but beaming you in from outside that system is.”
Okay let me see. “I need to know where I will arrive and where the hostages are kept. Any information about who, what and where about the guards would also be nice. I’m assuming this is some kind of military facility so type and location of security systems would help too.”
I did a little shuffle since the floor was ice cold. Hmmm…, have to do something about that too. Being barefoot and in my jammies weren’t fashionable or fit garments for hostage rescuing, which bought another point.
“Hap, I’ll need some kind of disguise too. The odds are against anyone ever recognizing me, but why take chances. Are these bad guys aware of your extraterrestrial origins?”
A hologram of planet Earth popped up in front of me. The focus narrowed down to a spot in the Soviet Union, Sverdlovsk. Oh joy.
It circled revealing, what looked to be from the outside, a fenced apartment complex. However as the zoom continued, that illusion was busted by the guards and checkpoints.
Then a red circle blinked with the under script identifying it as the Med-scanner. A dashed path led from there to an adjacent area, where three more amber circles this time appeared. Hostages it read. I noticed the two areas were separated by more than enough distance to get it outside of the scanner’s extended field.
More symbols appeared. TV cameras, door switches and alarms as well as another checkpoint neatly labeled. I of course recognized the graphics. Admittedly I wasn’t pulling an Obi Wan going to shut down the tractor beam generator, but I was relativity certain none of the hostages was a princess. The Soviets were brutal to Romanovs and the few survivors stayed the hell away from the USSR.
“Yes Lee,” Hap confirmed. “They tried to open the casing. It didn’t take them long to guess that your nation most certainly did not invent the med-scanner. As for equipment, my companions should be able to create just about anything you want.”
I felt like a little girl with a charge card in the toy aisle. However I had to think about this. This was the Soviet Union for Gawd’s Sake, and they had a machine stolen from the US. The last thing I want was to make to make the Cold War hotter between the two superpowers.
The Yom Kippur War of ’73 happened right on schedule. The end results were about the same as last time with an exception. OPEC jacked up gas prices and it got tense as US backed Israel and the Soviet clients got into it. Things nearly got as bad as the Cuban Missile Crisis.
The US with its victory of the South East Asia Affair as it was called here wasn’t willing to back down. Neither were the Soviets and so the Cold War warmed up. Things had cooled off some in the aftermath, but still things weren’t good as they felt threatened by the US’s tech advantage and tried to catch up.
Alright, I needed a disguise as an alien, but human enough for me to function. Plus all the gear I carried couldn’t look at all familiar. I found myself playing with my braid as I thought. That gave me an idea. Hmmm… James Cameron’s Avatar was still many years in the future if ever.
Going as a Na'vi was tempting, but unless I made myself into a miniature version, it wasn’t practical. But it did remind of another movie that also had a hair braid as a tail, Zemeckis’s Beowulf. Angelina’s character of Grendel’s Mother was this golden skin demoness with her long braid changing to a serpent like tail as well as her having these stiletto heel-like claws.
Let’s think about this. I’m very slender so adding a layer of golden like material to bulk me up shouldn’t hurt my mobility. Better if the stuff was protective. The heels would help blur how short I was, and wouldn‘t slow me given all the dance practice I’ve been getting using Vonda’s borrowed shoes.
The braid-tail could have all kinds of useful functions. A small camera to let me see around corner as well a tazer so I can take out that checkpoint without permanent injuring anyone. Perhaps an interface too to bypass electronic locks and other electrical doodads. Hell, if I’m going to do that might as well add a regular lock-picking gun function to the mix too.
Hap said, “We can do all that plus another couple useful capabilities.”
“You could’ve at least waited till I asked for them,” I complained. “Alright, we’ve three hostages. Are they able to walk? How about speaking English? The handful of Russian words I know isn’t going to convince anyone to come with me.
“Do you have someplace safe for these folks afterwards? No doubt they’re in bad shape, at the very minimum, mentally and perhaps physically too. And don’t look at me please! I don’t have any place for them to stay. Since the Soviets haven’t been able to break into a one of these things how am I suppose to disable it? Can’t you just tell it to turn itself off?”
Hap’s voice laughed, “Don’t worry, dear one, we have a plan for them. You get them out, they’re be safe. As for the med-scanner, we will use the cyber-interface in your braid tail. It’ll ’virus’ the scanner causing it to go inert.” She paused, “I could do that, Lee, but that would clue them in that the med-scanners are a part of a network instead of each being a stand along machine. I’m not ready for that to be revealed yet.”
“Once you reach the hostages you’ll have to get them back to the med-scanner. Think of it like a transporter pad from Star Trek. In this instance they will have to each enter the area of the machine‘s field. After they’re safely ’energized’ you can virus the scanner and we will ‘beam’ you out.
Your kernel will be your interface device. Now Lee we need you to walk to the group of large crates directly in front of you.” Hap directed.
Looking up at the dome ceiling above me, the lights gave this place a really eerie feel. It took me a second to find those crates of Hap’s. The place was filled with them as well other oddly shaped tarp covered objectives. .
Walking carefully barefooted across the cold concrete floor I said, “If anyone is hurrying on their way here I hope you know I’m leaving a trail of forensic data behind me. Things like babies’ footprints are kept on record.”
“Don’t worry,Lee. We’ll take care of that after we upgrade your kernel,” Hap reassured me. “Now set it on top of the one to your right. There will be a flash of light, so shield your eyes.”
I took my ‘pinecone’ and set it on top of the crate like Hap asked. Covering my eyes, the expected flash was followed by a dimming of the lights. Oh great, they were drawing on the building’s power supply. Someone will definitely be checking this out.
Peering at it, I couldn’t see any changes. It was the same small metal unopened pinecone it’ll always been.
“Lee, place the wide end of the base of the kernel against the back of your neck right under your braid.” Hap told me, “You should hurry. Visitors are coming.”
All kinds of unpleasant images rushed though my brain. Taking a deep breath, I placed it as she asked. I resisted a shiver remembering the interface ‘spike’ in Matrix.
“Lee, this might be disorienting,” Hap warned just a little too late.
Gold goo spurted from my ‘pinecone’ running all over my hands and shoulders! Oily-like, I couldn’t wipe it off and trying only spread it. More of it jetted forth covering me. Slipping, I fell as it enveloped my face. Gagging, it ran into my nose and mouth!
“Breathe, Lee, breathe!” Hap commanded.
Shaking from shock, I took an experimental breath. I was alive!
Looking down at myself, my jammies were gone. Literally skin tight fine golden scales covered me. Staring at my hands, my nails were silver and gleamed like polished steel. Feeling my face, it was as if I wasn’t wearing anything. Moving to my breasts, my nipples and privates were covered but there were no loss of sensation. Talk about feeling naughty!
I had to grin at the thought of Ricky, Hal and Vonda seeing me now.
Examination of my feet revealed those claws that served as stiletto heels. Unlike the movie, I could actually flex them. It was just like moving my toes, and was actually similar to the rear talon perching birds had. I stood without too much of a problem. A few trial steps made me glad of the practice Vonda and I’d done in heels during our sleepovers. Hey, being so short I was partial to anything that gave me a little height!
A sound of grating metal and voices alerted me I was out of time. “Hap, now would be a good time,” I whispered, concerned.
“Standby, energizing,” she announced as the lights flashed again.
When I opened my eyes I was somewhere else. In front of my vision hovered the map of this facility. I was in the center of the first circle, med-scanner. I was now wearing some kind of visor. Touching it uncertainly, I was still wondering what I’d gotten myself into.
“That’s protective shielding for your eyes. Additionally it further hides your identity as well as many other useful functions.” a voice said. It didn’t sound like Hap.
“You’re not Hap.” I told it, looking around me.
For the first time I saw what a Med-scanner really looked like. If an oak tree that could grow giant silver metallic acorns that was it. It had a circumference of approximately three feet in diameter. Attached to it was all kinds of equipment including a circle made of thick, heavy duty electrical cables.
“No, I’m not. That entity is not solely dedicated to keeping you alive, I am,” it answered.
I found the door, and quickly padded over to it. Instead of a clicky-tap from my ‘heels’ there was only a soundless spongy feel from my ‘golden slippers.’ The talon heel flexed like it was alive giving an unexpected spring to my step.
The ventilation and airlock-like door labeled this as a clean room, an armored clean room. Checking out the area I saw that the entire area of the Med-scanners’ field was included. They’d probably found out the hard way just how large it was. It all made sense considering they were trying to disassemble alien technology, and knew of Hap’s safeties and primary overrides.
“So I take it that I’m wearing some kind of bio-armor?” I asked examining the door.
“In the simplest terms, yes. Bio-nano-armor might be closer, but you lack the background understand a more exact description,” the voice explained.
I said, “I love you too. How about helping me with the door. Undoubtedly, it’ll set off some alarm if we force it. Can you suggest a subtle alternative?”
“Certainly. Direct your cyber-tail to the lock,” it said.
“And how do I do that?” I said trying to see if I’d set off any alarms yet.
“You’re right handed, so hold out your right forefinger,” it directed.
Alrighty! Doing so had my braid wrapped tail’s tip hovering alongside my hand. Cool!
Unlike most the rest of me, it was silver like my nails. I made to touch the lock with my finger and my tail obeyed me. Small motions of my hand resulted in larger movements in the tail. Upon touching the lock a list of options popped up beside the map diagram. As I focused on each command it highlighted. Scrolling down I found ‘Disable alarms and unlock door.”
The tail’s tip split and fine tendrils shot into the frame. An eye blink later it flashed a green ‘done’ and the door opened. A second later I repeated the procedure on the outer door. I hoped with the alarms out it didn’t matter if I left both doors open. I just might need to make a very quick exit.
The map showed a long corridor leading to the checkpoint where the hostages were. Using the finger trick again, I stuck the end of my tail around the corner. Options popped up again, and I picked picture. A video of the passage appeared next to the map.
The glassed in checkpoint looked to have a pair of guards and was probably armored. The only way into the detention area was another double-door airlock arrangement. The door to the checkpoint was also in there. No way to even get to the entrance without being seen. Just wonderful. Just over thirty feet to cover in the open, even more good news.
“You have five millimeters of foamed, gold, nano-forged chitin. You are practically immune to small arms. Your heel spurs are more than capable of punching though that glass. This is not anywhere near a true test of your capabilities.” The voice, that wasn’t Hap, chided me.
I laid my head against the wall. “I might be older than I seem, but I’m still in a lot of ways only sixteen, okay? I’ve only just started dating, thank you very much! Now you want me to go running down a hallway with two guys at the end armed with AK’s? Well, excuse me, if I’m in no hurry to test how bulletproof I am.
“I would really like to get though this without hurting anyone, them or me! Besides, if this goes bad and bullets start flying, while I might be okay,t those hostages probably aren’t bulletproof. Stealth is the key.” I argued.
Then it was taken out of my hands. Coming from the other side of the hallway behind, three scientist types in white coats stared first at the opened clean room airlock and then at me. Oh Crap!
Like a shot I leaped after them. Not slow, they dropped their clipboards and ran like hell itself was on their heels.
Targeting reticules appeared on all three. I sighed, as I ran them down. This on-the-job-training in bio-suit operations was getting real old. I may not have experience in this type of mission, but my Army MOS in military intelligence involved me in the planning. You gathered every scrap of information you could find and planned the best you could for the unexpected. Then you practiced as closely as you could to what you expected to run into until you could do it blindfolded. You did not go in cold with equipment you’ve never used before.
Focusing on the furthest scientist running for his life, I commanded, “Taze!”
My tail whipped over my shoulder at him as I slide tackled the closest. Jeet Kune Do stressed using whatever worked and this let me keep my hands free. The polished floor was perfect for this, letting me trip up the third runner as well.
While the first did the tazer jerk, I targeted the other one and stunned them all before they could recover. That took a little longer than I liked since that function had a recharge time. It was only a second or three, but I could really do with it being faster. “Are they alright? They don’t look any too healthy.” I said hoping none of them had bad hearts because of too much vodka.
My heckler replied, “Affirmative on that unhealthy part, but they took no lasting harm from the shocks. However I think our options have shrunk,” It added as the alarm blared.
Not wasting time with curses, I threw myself to my feet running flat out for the corner. Not bothering to slow I used a Parkour maneuver to bounce off the wall splinting full speed down the hallway. At the first muzzle flash, I ran up the wall like from the Matrix, but I kicked off hard for the opposite side. Landing in a sliding roll, I flexed my tail aiming for the door’s locks.
“Bust the lock and drag me under their guns!” I silently screamed as bullets tore up the hallway.
Like a striking snake, my braid-tail struck the outer door, burying its tip into the lock. I grabbed my outstretched tail with one hand, leaving my free hand to guide and keep me under the guns, as I bounced off the wall, under the armored glass, before slamming into that hallway door.
I smashed it open, and tumbled into the small passage. It had doors going to the guard room and into the detention area. Gas hissed from vents in the ceiling as the two guards inside the security post reacted to this new development.
My rider warned, “Breath though your nose. I’ll filter it.”
“Get the lock!” I pointed scrambling against the door before they started shooting again though the gun ports.
Somehow I could still hear despite the thunderous roar of the AK’s. The deadbolt lock shrieked as my tail yanked it clean out of the door. Throwing myself against it, the door crashed into one Russkie while I commanded, “Taze!” at the other targeted guard.
“You’re the one that should be doing all of this,” my peanut gallery spectator commented. “Taze him, open this, pull this other, I’m not suppose to do all of this for you,” it complained.
Letting myself spin, I roundhouse kicked the guard that’d gotten hit with the door. I pointed with my right forefinger again. My cyber tail immediately came to attention. Running down the ‘menu’ I selected ’tazer.’ With a flick of my hand, the cyber limb tagged the hapless Russkie as he clumsily groped for his AK.
“Like that,” I asked?
Turning, I studied the booth, surprised I could read the Cyrillic. “Since when can I read Russian?”
Dryly, I was answered, “Since you complained you couldn’t speak the language. Hap downloaded it into you when we ‘energized’ as you so quaintly put it.”
I hit the switches to open the doors in the detention cells. Dancing pass the broken glass and bodies, I entered hoping to get the hostages moving.
The place was built like it suppose to house serious bad asses, a not unreasonable concern given Hap’s capabilities to enhance. Coming to the first door, I wasn’t able to help myself. “Come with me if you want to live.”
Anything else died on my lips. The woman inside was so pale she could’ve been a vampire with her nearly snow white hair. Unlike the silver gray of age, her long locks glowed and shined with life. Looking up at me, her lips were naturally colored a dark red. However, it was her vivid blue eyes that told the truth about her situation.
Pain and numb torment filled them. Wearing only a thin hospital shift, she hugged it about herself as best she could. Cringing away from me, her every breath spoke of her abuse.
Aww Crap! Hap might not have given in, and let those SOBs torture these poor souls with inhuman transformations, but that didn’t keep them from changing them into a form where they could be taken advantage of. I think the woman in front of me was the Russian version of ultimate feminine beauty. It was too bad they didn’t respect the heart within that clay.
I knelt by her as she fanatically took in my unusual appearance. “I’m here to get you and the others out. What’s your name?”
It was a little awkward, but I think I got most the pronunciation correct. That was the problem with Hap’s ‘downloads.’ You had the knowledge but you still had to train your body to use it. In this case, my tongue and mouth to make the correct sounds.
Hesitantly she said, “I was Vasily, but now they call me Zorya Polnoca. I, I, I, was a man.” she said looking at me imploringly wanting me to believe her.
Trying to ignore the alarms still going off, I urged, “I’m Selene. I believe you, but we must hurry. Time is running out. Can you stand?”
Zorya touched me as if she couldn’t trust her eyes. Then she nodded, Wobbly getting to her feet. “Who are you,” she asked? Then seeing my cyber-tail, she said, “What are you?”
What else could I say? “A friend.”
Helping her, I saw a pair of scared faces cautiously looking at me from around behind the doorway. Both were children. Startling, each of them were the splitting image of the woman I half-held up.
They almost bolted as soon as I saw them, but stopped as Zorya called, “Zvezda, Danica, it’s okay. Come here.”
They came running to her. Despite their identical appearance they were different ages. Zorya was an adult I guessed in her mid-twenties. Danica was the youngest who was pre-puberty. Zvezda was a teen still becoming a woman, a little younger than I. All three hugged each other as if the world itself was coming to an end.
“Please, we must hurry. More guards will be coming soon. I would like to be gone before they get here.” I was feeling much less non-violent.
Zorya wiped her tears nodding.
I could see that while the other two girls were in pretty good shape, Zorya wasn’t. I sub-vocalized, “Am I stronger like this? I don’t think she is going to be able to move very fast.”
My tag along replied, “Yes for short bursts. You should be able to carry her.”
Good enough. ”Zorya, I’m going to carry you. Girls try and keep up.”
There was second of surprise as I slipped underneath her and lifted her on my shoulders.
Danica stared at my feet, I think realizing they might not be shoes as my talon spurs flexed under the weight.
I was very careful, knowing Zorya might be injured. However, if I could get her back to the med-scanner all that could be fixed. Now for the tough part.
“Hold your breath. They’ve released gas. This might be scary but we need to go to the lab. Okay let’s go!” Then I took off moving as smoothly as I could.
Using my cyber-tail cam, I saw both younger girls hesitate, but begin to follow.
I checked out the corridor the same way, so far so good. All three’s eyes got big seeing the damage to the checkpoint, but thankful we’d no additional visitors.
Zorya wasn’t too bad of a burden, but she did slow me. We made it all the way to the lab entrance before I heard the first signs of more trouble.
“Quickly, girls inside!” I said letting them go in first.
The thump of booted feet stopped at the corner as a Soviet cone-head helmet peered around it.
I shut the outer ‘airlock’ door. “Lock and jam it shut.” I ordered.
My cyber-limb wormed around Zorya to do so.
A canister bounced down the hallway spewing white smoke or gas.
Danica and Zvezda huddled just inside the second door obviously frightened of this place.
“The inner door too, if you please, the same as the first.” I ordered again. Fortunately there wasn’t any back talk from my spectator.
I softly said, “Girls, Zorya, I know bad things has happened to you in here. However it is the way out. These men truly don’t understand what they have here. They are attempting to use it for other purposes than for what it was intended. Please trust me,” I asked.
Their light blue eyes unwillingly said yes.
Cyber-tail cam showed a pair of guards wrestling with the outer door. Time was running out.
Gently I put Zorya in the med-scanner. “Hap, the first hostage is ready for transport.”
I heard her humor as she continued to make fun of my science-fandom. “Energizing.”
Both girls gaped as Zorya glowed and disappeared.
“Cosmos Patrol!” Zvezda blurted out amazed.
“Hap, can both girls go next? Things getting a little tight here,” I tried to keep calm as the frustrated guards shot the outer door to bits, using their rifle butts to clear the wreckage.
“I’m sorry but we can’t. The energy just isn’t there, I would suggest the smallest for next. That will allow levels to build back up quickest,” she said.
Damn! This was so not good.
Kneeling, I spoke to the two girls. “Zvezda can you be brave? I need to have Danica go next. But that will mean you’ll have to go and sit in the scanner as soon as Danica leaves. I won’t be able to help you.”
They both looked over my shoulder at the burly guards forcing their way to the inner door.
“I’m going to be a little busy, Okay?” I asked.
Zvezda nodded, “I’ll help Danica.” Her young face got hard. “They hurt Zorya. Hurt them back.”
I smiled as we both helped Danica up to the machine.
“Energize!” I sent.
Not waiting for her to disappear, I flowed to the door. Behind me, cyber-limb cam showed the teen cambering into position into the med-scanner. My attention was snapped back to the doors the aggravated guards gave up and tossed a grenade into the airlock.
A quick glance assured me the teen was out of direct line of sight, but still might be hurt. Okay you goons, no more nice Miss time-traveling extra-dimensional visitor for you.
I breathed a sigh of relief as she glowed just before I got thumped hard by fire, glass and thunder from the grenade exploding.
Rolling to my feet I saw the first man charging in. “Hap, how long till I can zap the ‘core’ and get out of here?”
My ride-along answered, “Hap is busy right now. Five minutes would be nice. They hurried things getting the last hostage out. Energy banks are depleted.”
Another canister came bouncing in spraying something. I thought about batting it out it, but actually it helped me. My ‘visor’ did a color shifting thing so I could see clearly in the foggy smoke.
“No hurry five minutes sounds about right.” I said. Rape was such an ugly word for a despicable act. Poor Zorya’s condition quite frankly pissed me the hell off. I’d no idea what they were trying to accomplish. Right at this moment I didn’t care.
Rider set a timer running in a corner of my vision. However, I was watching the gas-masked troops begin their first rush.
I sent my cyber-tail between their legs tazering the last man in the five man column. A short skipping boxing step had me in front of the leader. Short vicious jabs walking their way up his abdomen set him for the kickboxing knee in the face as he kneeled over. Whirling pass him as he fell, I closed with the second who tried to bring his AK to bear. My right hand hit his weapon’s magazine release while trapping his finger in the guard.
Yanking the rifle upwards, he screamed as his finger broke. The single round in the chamber discharged its roar magnified in the small area. My ears were unaffected, but I can’t say the same for the goons.
Twisting low, I danced under the legs of the third slamming him down hard into the second. Meanwhile number four had enough. Freaking out, he fired a shot that bounced off the helmet of number one, who just got up, and went right back down again.
Lithely kicking, the inside edge of my talon heel spur caught the AK’s receiver cleanly parting it in two. As he stood shocked holding the two halves of his assault rifle, I tased him.
Now aware of just how damn sharp those stiletto heels from hell of mine were, I was more careful. Didn’t want to spear anyone no matter how mad I was. Besides more than likely none of these yahoos did the deed anyways. I popped each one as my tazer charged just for good measure.
My timer read 2:35. How time flies when you’re having fun. However, now that it was over, I wasn’t feeling so good. It didn’t help that I knew why. I was usually a pretty peaceable sort. Those guys were coming in here to kill me, and then I went into there to hurt them, hurt them bad.”
“Hey,” I said weakly, “Can I upchuck without passing out from the gas?” I asked feeling very, very green.
“It would be much better if you didn’t, Lee. We‘ve done well not leaving behind any forensic evidence.” Rider replied.
I looked at the timer, 1:58. Oh joy.
Staggering over to the giant acorn, I took cover just in case they tried anything else. It didn’t seem like it, but being here also let me be in position to complete the last phase of this mission.
Two minutes of trying not to toss my cookies, seemed like a lifetime. If I dared I would’ve sighed in relief as Rider announced, “We’re ready to transport. Strike the scanner.”
That option was already selected. Tapping the acorn with my cyber-tail, I saw the metallic shape become dull and its texture seemed less sleek.
Biting my lip, I sent a simple, “Done.”
That flash of light again and I was somewhere else. I really didn’t care as I hurled, gagging and near choking. Helpless I knelt there unable to move away from my own ‘discharge.’
I looked around, tears still flowing. It took me only a second to place it. After all, I’d played in those rafters not so long ago, my family’s barn.
Finally, I shakily stood up. Distastefully, I glanced at my mess. Picking up the shovel from where it was usually kept, I scooped it up. A minute later it was safely buried. Okay that was one problem taken care of.
“Hap,” I asked. “This is over right? Can I please go back to bed now?”
“Yes Lee,” She said. “You can go now. To remove your armor, just pull your kernel free. You however might want to wait until you’re back inside since everyone is still asleep.”
“Good point Hap,” I said.
Walking back to my house, it felt a little surreal. It was still as if I wasn’t wearing anything. I could feel the morning dew and the grass under my feet, as well as the breeze. Luckily, Lady our dog had grown used to my weirdness. She gave me a sniff and went back to sleep.
Another good thing about my room being an expansion is its own outside door. I think that made Daddy a little unhappy. If he had his way, his little girl would be sleeping in the center of the house within an armored safe.
Besides sneaking back inside, my own door made keeping other things secret easier too. One of those greeted me at the door, Smoky my cat. Daddy disapproved of inside pets, and so I sneaked her in and out of my room at night. Well behaved, she never made a mess. She’d trained me well to open the door for her when she needed to go.
I glanced at the clock as I sat on my bed, almost four. Reaching behind my head under my long braid, I found the lump of my ‘pinecone.’ Remembering the unpleasantness of ‘activating’ it, I took a deep breath before pulling it out. I was still having distinctive flashbacks to the old Matrix movies and the big ‘plug’ in the back of their heads.
There was a slight click. I blinked as the stuff flowed off my face. It happen so quickly, there was none of the gagging as with it going on. In seconds, I was back in my jammies, holding my pinecone.
“Goodnight Hap,” I said lying down exhausted in so many ways I couldn’t count them all.
“Goodnight Lee and thank you. You saved those girl’s lives tonight.”
She said.
Before hiding the alien device, I had to ask, “They’ll be alright won’t they?”
Hap replied, “I have a very nice place for them with good caring people. It’ll be a few days before everything is ready for them, but they’ll be fine. Now get some sleep.”
Drowsily, I nodded, hiding my pinecone back in its nook. Heavily my eyelids closed …
“Time to get up Lee!” Squealed little brother Darryl as he bounced on my bed.
Forcing myself to focus on the clock, it read, 6:00. With a moan I ignored his laughing and pulled my pillow over my head. Oh Happy Day.
Will Lee ever get her kiss!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Career Day Vol. 2: I Get Around
Part 4
By
Grover
The three faces looked down at the golden woman who’d saved them. Surprised to find themselves in a hayloft of all places, habit made them keep quiet even when their rescuer appeared.
As the Golden One left, Danica asked, “Why did she get sick? Was it the gas?”
Zorya held the younger girl. “No, I don’t think so. I think maybe this was her first time confronting such as our captors. Strong feelings can make you sick as well as happy. I think she found no joy in what she had to do.”
Zvezda called out softy. “I’ve found a trunk of clothes.”
The two younger girls were soon digging though the musty old trunk.
Zorya smiled happy at their change in fortunes. As soon as she appeared here in this place, her hurts were healed and she felt much better. A bit of sadness touched her. At least the ones of the body. Those other hurts and the memories that went with would take longer.
Pinned to her shirt was a typed letter explaining that a home was being prepared for them, but it wasn’t ready yet. The people here were kind but it was best if they could hide here and stay out of sight for a while.
Looking around she found a battered old sign, Coca Cola. They were in America! She was beginning to suspect their savior wasn’t an alien after all. They had all heard of the American’s marvelous invention the med-scanner that greedily they kept for themselves. However Zorya had overheard the scientists and scholars state bluntly the imperialist pigs could never have built such a device.
If so the aliens had used the machine to save her and her young friends. Somehow they had also taught her how to read and perhaps speak English too. However, the Golden One had shown them surprising kindness. Zorya was impressed by her courage, but it was gentleness of sprit that’d made someone so formidable ill afterwards that touched her. She simply could help but feel there was a human underneath those golden scales.
Cautiously peeking out of the loft she saw it wasn’t a little after noon here, but early in the morning judging from the dew on the ground and the rising sun. Thinking about the time change, they must indeed be in America.
Looking about, there was a very large garden or perhaps a small farm field of vegetables. Unless she was mistaken, some of them looked ripe. Thinking about it she made a decision. They would take only what they needed. Someday she would repay not only the Golden One, but these farmers as well. However for now, she and her adopted charges needed to eat.
The rising sun was clearing the tops of the tall trees. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the first rays of the new day.
The 4th of July was on a Monday this year which meant the wage slaves had a four day weekend, not however for us farmers. We’d worked our butts off Friday the 1st and were still at it Saturday the 2nd getting everything ripe picked and in baskets ready for selling.
I think maybe my publisher was a little unhappy, but I think this all worked out for the best. With us having breaks from our toils hunched over typewriter and art easel, our creativity really blossomed. Even Vonda was happy with our progress. Hal’s art was great, and if I do say so myself, the words damn near leaped out of my head onto the page. Besides we’re still way ahead of the deadline.
That was good. You see there was another story idea I was working on. In a way it was Chris Sawyer’s fault. Maybe it was too late to help him, but perhaps I could bring the problem of the children of abusers becoming abusers themselves to the public’s notice. Well, Ron too, I suppose. With these jerks keeping on causing me problems, I had to strike back somehow. I wasn’t certain how using the classic antihero would work, but I thought it had promise. I couldn’t wait to get started, but other things came first.
I took off my floppy hat, wiping my sweat away. Standing between the two rows of strung up runners from the string beans, they were like two walls of green rich with beans, blossoms and the buzz of bees about their business of pollinating.
While I tanned now instead of burned, I still moderated my exposure. All the medical miracles of Hap’s med-scanners or not, you looked after yourself. Skin cancer used to scare the dickens out of me once upon a time when I was so fair I got sunburned just thinking about it.
Vonda didn’t understand my attitude at all. Working the row next to mine, I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at her beauty. Her tan was much darker than mine, and her hair gleamed with sun bleached reds.
Blond Hal smirked, catching me spacing out. His light brown hair had gone almost platinum. Working and hiding here from his father, he’d let his hair grow out longer. This was the 70’s after all, but now his hair was longer than even the over ears style our school dress code allowed for guys.
Meaning it was long enough for us girls to style. Ricky finally got his chance to meet Hal’s feminine alter ego, Teresa. I thought the poor boy was going to hurt himself! It was beginning to look as if their relationship was love. The two had spoken about sex. Even without the ‘connector’ issue they’d wanted to wait. A rare sentiment considering the time. Well these 70’s were a little more restrained than the ones I live though the first time around. It was still weird to have Ronald Reagan as President four years early. I guess with the Kennedy’s locking up the office for 16 years, it got the Republicans motivated.
Vonda noticed my stare, and smiled.
Happiness filled me up like a balloon. I was going to float away on joy!
Daddy cleared his throat. The unspoken message was clear. Less gawking and more picking if you please!
Giggling, I got back to work. Really instead of a job this was more like paying the rent for the space we’re using. I couldn’t complain since he’d provided furniture and even did some remodeling work to make my bedroom more like a studio.
Here I could hear the buzz of the bees and the chirps of the birds with little of the sounds of civilization. It was so quiet I could hear the trucks on the highway miles away as they roared about on their way. Literally I knew when a visitor was on the way, before I could see them.
Peering around the corner of the row, there was one on the way now. That’s wasn’t unusual given the signs leading to us, Younger’s Fresh Vegetables. Hal had taken pity on my poor attempts at signage, and did up some really great looking ones for us.
Let’s see. Newer looking Chevy pickup so not one of the neighbor’s beat-up running on a bailing wire and a prayer work trucks. Wait a minute, oh shit, Hal’s dad!
Vonda recognized the truck at the same time I did. We both looked at our friend.
Still oblivious to the threat, he had his shoulder length hair unbound. Hal took every opportunity he could to let his hair down even out here working. Standing there with a basket cocked on one hip as he searched the thought the green leaves, she was Teresa without any help of clothes or makeup.
Reading each other’s thoughts, we jumped him.
Startled, he looked up as I whipped off my hat.
Vonda hissed, “It’s your dad!” as she gathered his ash blond locks into a ponytail.
Fear clouded his face even as he winced at her rough handling.
I gave my hat a critical evaluation. The blue wasn’t really that girlie, and fortunately I didn’t like really wide brims while hunting and pecking about while working. It got in the way. Whipping up the neck strap, I pulled up the sides cowboy hat-like.
Together with Vonda, we got the hat on him after letting the fitting band in back all the way out. Letting her do the final adjustments, I looked back around the corner.
He’d just gotten out his truck, and was scratching his fat butt.
Daddy raised his brows in question as he walked to meet our visitor. He took in our hurried disguise of Hal.
I whispered knowing how noise carried out here. “Hal’s Dad. He’s not very nice.”
Grunting, Daddy gestured, “Come on son. Let’s go meet your father. Lee, you and Vonda need to keep cracking if we‘re to have this order done on time.”
Like he was on his way to the gallows, Hal slipped past us. We both gave him a reassuring squeeze as he went by.
Somehow, I got back to work, but I couldn’t help trying to peek though the leaves. What was going on?
Ray stretched his legs getting out his truck. His boy was sure working out in the middle of nowhere. Even so it wasn’t hard to find with all those signs pointing the way.
The place wasn’t large. It was a lot like the place he’d grown up in. Small family farm that was almost more like a very large garden. He could see tomatoes, string beans, peppers as well as patches of berries off in the distance.
A whole lot like what he’d shaken from his boots. Nope, this sure as hell wasn’t the life for him. Going into the National Guard during Korea, and getting a trade was the smartest thing he’d ever done. Working for the electric company paid well and even though the hours sucked sometimes, it let him move his family upscale next to that hippy doctor.
Hell, it was almost worth it for that alone because it was so much fun to pull that chain. On the other foot, he wondered if that girl had polluted his boy somehow. Growing up, Hal was big for his age even if he never cared much for all the sports gear Ray brought him.
The boy was always sitting down drawing or coloring something instead of doing something. That drove Ray crazy. It weren’t natural for a boy to act like that. However his wife nagged at him to leave the boy alone. Then that damn Career Day thing came up. All that talk about making sure your kids didn’t have any disease was all crap. It was just so they could turn’em into N*gg*rs and Ch**ks.
He’d damn well knew that his boy got changed into a N*gg*r bitch. Ray caught him in a dress playing with that hippy doctor’s girl some years before, but he was sure it was that Career Day crap that’d really poisoned his boy. After that, Hal just about quit growing. Slender, and too damn pretty; his boy wasn’t becoming the man Ray wanted.
Football was out and so was every other sport. How the hell could Ray brag to the fellas at work about his boy when he just sat on his ass all day long drawing pictures!
Ray jerked his head up. A woman was coming out of the house.
He could only stare. She definitely was the mother of that hot piece of jail bait he’d seen hanging around his hippy neighbor’s house. If the younger girl was the promise, this bitch was real deal.
Not too tall, but with nice firm tits and a tight ass that would stop traffic. Dark hair styled like that bitch off of Charlie’s Angels, she was wearing only a little makeup.
He guessed, she must be stuck up, since she gave him an icy look with her green eyes. “Can I help you?”
He licked his lips having some real good ideas of what she could help him with.
Then she looked past him. “Perhaps it’d be better for you to speak to my husband,” she said with special emphasis.
Turning, Ray’s mouth dropped open. This prime piece of ass was married to that old fart?
Walking from the barn and green fields were his boy and an old man. Disregarding Hal, Ray stared at the small coverall dressed man. The two were about the same height so say five feet six, and they shared the same slim build. That was where the similarities stopped.
The old guy was in his sixties, maybe older, but he still had a full head of hair. While his boy still had that soft baby fat look, the old man appeared as tough as boiled leather.
Ray’s first thought was this had to be a joke until he got closer.
In a soft tenor the old man said offering his hand, “I’m Ernest Younger.”
Grasping his hand, Ray was surprised to find a grip like a damn steel vice. “I’m Ray Shaw. Here to check up on my boy.”
Looking into those cold eyes reminded him of his grandfather. He’d been one scary sum’bitch. One summer day, much like this one, he’d told the old shit to go to hell that he wasn’t working one damn day more in those frakking fields.
Ray already reached his growth and towered over his grandfather. That didn’t stop that old man from beating him half to death. No matter how hard he hit him, the old man came right back up and hit him back even harder.
That was the first and last time Ray ever talked back to his grandfather. He worked the rest of that hot nasty summer, but joined the Guard as soon as he could. Ray swore the old man smiled as he signed the waiver so Ray could join up at 17.
Maybe it had something to do with how much this place reminded him of back then. Could be something else. Right now anger burned in that old man’s eyes. The hairs on the back of Ray’s neck stood up as something primeval woke. The rage staring out from under that brow wasn’t hot and molten, but a icily focused cold that made promises and never ever threats.
“Hal’s a good worker. He’s able to keep with my three who’s been doing this all their life. Did a good job with those new signs for us too.” The old man said, his voice flat.
How the hell did a voice so soft hold so much menace? Ray heard damn clearly what wasn’t said, “Now you can get the hell off my land.”
Old man Younger said to Hal, “Go to the barn and pick out a basket of tomatoes, beans and a couple peppers for your father to take home.”
Ray did his best not to show just how much he was intimidated. “So my boy is doing right by you? That’s good.”
The old man nodded, “Yep. So good he might be late tonight. We have a lot to do today. Everyone wants fresh tomatoes for the Fourth. Course, he’ll get a bonus. They all will. That‘s how you make and keep good workers. Reward them when they work hard.”
He looked up at the house, “Sorry about the wife not being more neighborly. She’d a tough life growing up. I don’t care for that. Anyone who’d hurt a child should be shot and buried out in the south 40. Don’t deserve a decent burial. Don’t you agree?”
Ray had a feeling they weren’t talking about that bitch now. He did know one thing for frakking sure. No way was he touching anything of this man.
“Yes sir,” Ray said cursing himself. Damn if he wasn’t rattled as hell by this sum’bitch.
By the time Hal got back with that basket, Ray was more than ready to get the hell out of there. “Keep’ em working as long as you need. Builds character. Hal you do right by me, you hear?”
Not waiting for an answer, Ray left. Glancing in the rear view mirror he could see the old man standing there watching him leave; unmoving, focused, still, cold. One wheel left the road as he nearly ran into the ditch. Punching the gas, Ray had to get away, far away. Fear drove him, but underneath it all was a spark of anger.
Vonda and I watched the pickup fishtail as it laid down rubber screeching around the curve. Just as curious, we had to stare at Hal who was doing everything, but skipping back to us.
She asked Hal, ”What happened?”
Even my hearing, couldn’t pick out the words, but I did know Daddy had let Mr. Shaw know his displeasure.
Smiling Hal hugged me. “Lee, your Dad can be really scary sometimes. I mean that in the very best way possible,” he said handing my hat back to me.
Putting those hair care commercials to shame, he shook out his blond mane from its bonds. I knew my Daddy too. He may not agree with a lot of what people do, but he had some real old fashioned ideas about things. Some of those were you treat women with respect and you don’t mistreat a child.
It was another of those curious contradictions about him. I think he and Mom had worked out which way Hal leaned. Maybe it was my metamorphosis that made them more sympathetic, but they never said a word about the moments when Teresa spontaneously shined though overshadowing Hal.
That brought to light another problem. Rather than Hal dressing as Teresa, it was fast becoming she was dressing as him. How in the world were we going to disguise her convincingly enough to pass as a boy for the next couple years?
Vonda asked what I already knew, “You’re not going to tell us are you?”
Teresa smiled shaking her head.
Recalling how fierce a defender my Dad could be I hugged her. “Just be careful the next few days, especially if your father starts drinking over the holiday.”
Soon all three of us were hugging despite the, dirt, sweat, and being more than a little smelly.
All three of giggled like crazy as Daddy cleared his throat giving us one of his stern glares. Time to get back to work.
Like it does in the summer, dusk came late. We were all tired, but we found out what Mom been up to. The moment the burgers and BBQ pork chops hit the grill, they had all of our attentions. We’d just enough time to get cleaned up a mite before Daddy started serving up plates.
Mom had even called up Ricky. He showed up damn near as dirty as the rest of us. Keeping the fiction of boy and girlfriend, I greeted him with a hug. There was still a little wistfulness between us, but I didn’t miss his dark eyes searching out Hal.
In the open, out of the fields, Teresa hid away again, Hal once more. However, I saw the sparkle in her eyes as Ricky and I walked to where everyone hungrily ate.
I helped him load up a plate full of potato salad and BBQ fresh off the grill. Taking mercy on them, I sat where they could be together. Really there weren’t that much talking, although we did gossip about Hal’s father. We were too busy eating.
Ricky didn’t have any more luck than we did with getting the details from Hal. “Oh come on! What happened?”
Teresa peeked out Hal’s eyes again, “I used to wonder why Lee’s parents married because her father is so much older. I know now. That’s all I have to say.”
They looked to me. Smiling, I grasped Hal’s hand. “I still want to know the details, but I understand what you’re talking about.”
Ricky and Vonda moaned some, but Daddy interrupted all of us. “This has been a very good year so far because of all of you. Here is a mid-season bonus,” he said handing out envelopes.
The three of us were going to protest. After all we would be getting a sizable payment once we delivered our next book.
Dad gave us one of his looks. “This is fair payment for the work you’ve done. The signs alone would’ve paid for any rent due. Those brought in a lot of business. Ya‘ll worked today, so enjoy your reward.”
Looking inside my envelope, there was a brand new hundred dollar bill. In my 2010 timeline, a hundred bucks wasn’t that big a deal because of 30 years of inflation. Here and now in 1977, a hundred dollars was big money, especially to a teenager. I had to smile because I knew the reason for the big bill. It was his way of encouraging us to save it instead of spending it immediately.
He wiped down a watermelon that’d been chilling in the fridge all day long. Splitting it, the cold slices really hit the spot.
Sighing in pleasure I sat with my friends wanting to remember this moment in time forever. The chilled watermelon was sweetly divine, while the cicadas, frogs, and other night life sang their summer night tribute. The southern night stars were shining overhead even as the twinkling lights from fireflies rose in the woods nearby.
Darryl somehow still had energy and played with our dog, Lady. Adam was listening to something on his radio using his earphones, but was probably country music.
Ricky winked, taking my hand. Mischievous, he led me to the barn followed by Hal and Vonda.
Dad’s soft voice carried over the nightly music of the wildlife. “Go ahead and lock up the barn for the night. Don’t take too long,” he warned knowing exactly what a bunch of teenagers had on their minds on a summer’s evening.
Ricky gave a double check making sure Adam hadn’t decided to spy on us, but smiled as he turned around taking Teresa in his arms. Somehow there was another of those spontaneous, Pows!, and there she was. Only half cleaned up, from a long hot day, Ricky looked as stunned as if a goddess had suddenly gifted him with her presence.
Vonda wrapped her arm around my waist and I leaned into her resting my head on her shoulder. We walked to the other side, to lock up there, but to also give our friends some privacy.
I sensed her growing frustration was making her more aggressive than normally. Hell, I felt it too. As happy as this summer of ‘77 was turning out to be it was also very annoying.
In the dim light, her eyes shined with passion. “This wasn’t what I had in mind for our first kiss,” she whispered.
Pulling myself up on a table filled with baskets of produce from our day’s work, I held out a hand to help her sit beside me.
Instead, smiling she pulled me groaning back to my feet.
Vonda arms wrapped around my waist as she led us in the first steps of the dance.
“Nor I,” I breathed, my own lips parting.
Slowly we twirled, lost in each other’s eyes.
Touching her face tenderly as she touched mine, our lips softly met. My heart thundered as my blood rushed though me.
We pulled back, uncertain of the other. Gazing into her very soul, there was only love within. Elation filled my heart as I wetted my lips.
Her face flashed so many emotions. Amazement, and joy were followed by fervor as we kissed again.
I’m certainly no expert on the subject despite my previous lifetime. This wave we rode was like nothing I’d ever imagined much less experienced. My lips felt hot and my mouth radiating heat like the sun. Suddenly my breath caught in my chest as the warmth exploded all though me.
Panting, Vonda and I leaned against each other to keep standing as we hugged.
I whispered, “I can’t believe what I think just happened.” My body gently shuddered from the fading pleasure. Maybe not a big kada boom, but most definitely a boom.”
She closed her eyes in bliss. “I think I orgasmed from us kissing.” A low hum of contentment escaped her. Holding each other, Vonda said, “I never knew that could happen.”
Enjoying the sensation, I replied, “Me neither, but I’m not complaining!” I snuggled closer. “All my dreams of this moment didn’t include being so dirty or stinky.”
Vonda nuzzled next to my ear. “Me neither, but I’m not complaining either.”
Knowing it was time for us to go, I sighed, “At least there’s no makeup to fix or mussed hair to hide.”
“I don’t want to go. Just want to curl up with you. I don’t want this to end,” she whispered back.
Reluctantly, I backed away. “As much as I want that too, I understand why it’s so easy to get in trouble now. I want you. Maybe it’s best to give ourselves a break right now.”
“Hey your Dad is looking this way,” Ricky warned in a not whisper.
Vonda sighed; her voice husky with desire, “Not that we’re going to be given the choice.”
Hugging each other we met up with our other two friends who were looking rather flushed too. Vonda went to Hal while I attended to Ricky.
Brushing his hair back with my hand, I giggled. “Have a good time?”
Still dazed he nodded. “How does she do that? She’s like Wonder Woman. One minute there’s Hal and then poof, she’s Teresa.”
“She’s a wonder that’s for sure.” I said giggling, however I disagreed. “I think it’s because she can’t hide anymore. Her Hal disguise is failing.”
I smiled at him trying to make light of my worries. “She’s doing what she loves do. Her art is fabulous. I can’t wait to see what she’ll do after some real instruction. But I think the biggest change is that she’s in love. Just as important, someone loves her.”
His face was a study. “Do you really think it’s love?” Ricky asked, full of teenage doubt and uncertainty.
Closing the door behind us, I answered, “We’re all still learning, but I think so. I know I’m feeling lust, but there’s a happiness just being together too, if you know what I mean. I might be wrong, but I think I see the same thing with you two.”
He reached for my hand. “I know I want to hold her tight and never let go.” Blushing, he said, “There’s the sex thing that I guess is what you’re calling lust. As much as I want her, she wants to wait until we, hmmm…, fit better as a pair.”
Ricky looked up at the stars. “I thought the male thing would bother me, but honestly it doesn’t. The thing is if waiting is what she wants then that makes me happy. Isn’t that crazy?”
Squeezing his hand tight, I whispered as we got close to where my family was cleaning up from our cookout. “No, that’s love.”
As we stepped into the light, Adam snickered at all four of us blushing red, while Mom and Dad exchanged smiles. Helping with the rest of the cleaning, a short time later my friends were leaving for home.
As much as I missed her already, I smiled going inside. There would be other nights and more kisses. Now was the time for a really long hot soak. I’d relearned why teenagers take such lengthy baths.
Sighing, I stretched out on my bed letting the window fan blow the cooler evening air over me. In more ways than one I was really overheated. Throughout the house, I could hear everyone else settling down for the evening too. It’d been a long hard day working out in the hot sun, but it’d been worth it. Despite losing sleep, it was plain those girls in the USSR had needed my help. That’s me, writer, country girl, and super heroine extraordinary.
Still it was a good thing tomorrow was going to be a day of rest, the Fourth of July.
A familiar set of tones sounded just for me, causing me to smile. Hap was still mildly pulling my chain with using the ‘Hailing’ theme from Star Trek. Making sure I wouldn’t be interrupted, I pulled out my pinecone.
“What’s up, Hap?” I asked silently.
“Hello Lee,” she replied, but then paused. “I’ve got another problem.”
“Oh no,“ I exclaimed, alarmed, “It’s not the girls is it!”
“Yes and no” She said, “The real problem is that I’ve done a bad thing by misleading you.”
“Okay, what did you do?” I demanded, this day had been far, far too long.
“When you told me you didn’t have a place for them there with you, I sent them there anyways. They’re in your barn.” Hap admitted.
“What!” I sat up almost forgetting to not to speak aloud.
“She actually sounded a little contrite, “I am sorry about this. The guards at Area 51 were far too active to risk their being found there. I feared they would shoot first and ask questions later.”
“While in transport one of my companions left a note explaining something of what was going on to Zorya. We thought it would be fine for them to stay hidden at your family’s farm for a few hours. However you were working all day and this is the first time you’ve been close enough to your kernel for us to communicate,” Hap explained, but remorsefully added, “I should have come clean with you this morning when we realized our previous plans weren’t going to work. Please accept my apologies. If you would armor up now, and go to them, we think it is safe to take them to their final destination. Your kernel is needed for us to lock in on to them and send them on to their home.”
I sighed. As much as I wanted to scream and rant at her, I couldn’t. This was just more proof she really didn’t get things sometimes. However, there were things that just can’t be allowed slide.
“Hap.” I took a deep calming breath. “It’s one thing to get me up in the middle of the night, to help save someone. It’s another to intentional mislead and lie to your friends. I don’t even mind too much, about being tossed into the deep end of the pool facing armed soldiers. Zorya and the girls had to be rescued. It would’ve been better if I’d some warning. Going cold into things like that makes something that is hard even more dangerous.
“If ever want me to do anything like that again, I have to be able to trust you. That means you have to trust me. It’s what real friendship is all about.” I made damn sure she knew how I felt.
“I am sorry, Lee.” She apologized. “There was short notice because the scientists unexpectedly moved up their schedule planning for something after lunch. Their superiors were demanding results and I feared what they might have done”
“As for leaving the girls at your parents’ farm, I made an error in judgment. Normally, you spend most of the morning in your studio working on your books. I believed you could’ve been contacted much earlier in the day after the situation had calmed at Area 51 allowing me to send them to their final destination.” She paused.
“There’s a researcher there who nearly understands something about my true nature. The knowledge is there, he just hasn’t made the leap to apply it to me. I’m confident he’ll protect them.” Hap broke down and explained.
“You know they’ve been inside that barn all day long?” I told her accusingly. “One of the hottest days of the year although, that does explain why I found a puddle about the barn’s water spigot and the baskets that I know was packed right, being a little light. Still, I bet they’re hungry and there we all were chowing down right in front of them.“ If Hap had been in front of me, I would’ve been glaring at her. This really offended my sense of Southern Hospitality.
“And I can’t armor up as you call it yet.” I continued still feeling pissed. “It’ll have to be at least another 10 or 15 minutes before I even dare try and sneak out. I know Daddy. He’ll be on high alert after what he thinks was a make-out session in the barn.”
Feeling the weight of my pinecone in my hand, I was of two minds of how to do this. If I transformed in here, I might wake my family. The last time was a little traumatic. On the other hand, I would gain the advantages of having the suit’s sensors to help me sneak out.
Daddy really might be expecting me to sneak out for a clandestine midnight rendezvous. Although I was doing so for a completely different reason, than he thought, I was going to have to tiptoe away tonight. Whatever the reason, the last thing I wanted was to let him down.
That meant risking changing inside, but if I could get away with it my sensors would let be sure everyone was asleep. Preparing myself I had my pinecone ready.
“Hap?” I took a deep breath. “I forgive you. That’s what friends do too. Let‘s fix this.”
Zorya held little Danica. “It’s okay. I don’t think anyone saw you. Nothing harmed.”
“They were dancing,” she said. “I wanted to see.”
She paused shyly, “They were kissing too.”
Zorya rocked her. “I know.”
Danica looked into her eyes. “So it’s okay for two girls to kiss? Shouldn’t one be a boy?”
The older woman sighed. Some things were hard to explain. “Before you were changed into a girl were there anything you liked about being a boy?”
The younger girl thought about it. “Sometimes. It was fun playing football and bandy, but I liked wearing pretty dresses of a girl too.”
Zorya smiled, “So although you’re a girl now you still like some things you did as a boy?”
Danica thought about it again, “I think so.”
The woman nodded, “See, you’ve got it. Normally girls like boys just like boys usually like boy things and girls like the stuff girls like. Sometimes we’re born different. Boys like you, me and Zvezda are sometimes part girl and that means we like some of the things girls like.”
“Like clothes?” Danica asked with a smile.
Nodding Zorya said, “That’s right, like clothes, but sometimes like who you like to kiss too. As you get older, you’ll know which one you like.”
Zvezda who’d been listening said, “So because we’re girls now, we don’t have to like boys?”
The older woman sighed again. “No you don’t, but remember why we’re here at all. We got all got caught doing something most don’t approve of. It’s the same for girls who like kissing girls or for boys kissing boys. You can get in trouble, but you can’t help who you are. I think that is as true here in America as back home.”
Zvezda said, “Things are different here. Look at these farmers. They have three cars! They’re rich.”
“I don’t think they are wealthy so much as they are very careful about keeping things.” Zorya countered. “All those cars are more than ten years old and Look how every tool is clean and neatly put away. Even the old clothes we found were meticulously packed.”
Danica sniffed a sleeve. “They smell too.”
Smoothing the younger girl’s hair, she said, “That’s because of the mothballs to keep the bugs away.”
Not to be outdone she replied, “They still smell!” Then she grudgingly admitted, “But they are better than those hospital dresses. Those were terrible.”
All three agreed about that!
Zvezda asked, “Which one do you think is the Sirin? I think the mother, but the girl my age does have a braid although not as long or silver.”
Danica shook her head, no. “Not a Sirin! She’s a Firebird. Didn’t you see her feet? Just like a bird’s!”
They both turned to Zorya to settle their argument. “I don’t know. We only know that she saved us. For that she has my thanks. I don’t know how I would’ve survived without you two!”
The three hugged each other bound by the strongest bonds of all, love.
A soft voice behind them spoke, “You’re welcome.”
Jumping they stared their savior gleaming in the moonlight. Even in bright colorless light, they could see the shinier silver of her hair and tail against the darker of the gold. Just like last night her long silver braid swished and twitched like a cat’s tail.
Their rescuer asked, “I’m sorry you’ve been here all day without food. The ones who sent me last night didn’t let me know you were here. They thought they would’ve been already able to move you to a safer place. Are you alright?”
Zorya was a little intimidated by her, but stood setting Danica on her feet. Stepping forward, she was surprised when what did this mysterious woman call herself?
Selene came forward too hugging her. Not cold like metal, but warm. Unlike the golden statue she appeared there was warmth, but a hardness underneath too. It was so appropriate.
Softly, Zorya whispered, “I’m better now.”
Selene replied, “I hope and pray that your path will be easier now. It’s time for you three to continue your journey.”
Danica and Zvezda came and joined their hug.
Looking at the shielded eyes of their rescuer, she promised, “I will repay you and the farmers here for the clothes and food we took.” Her pride demanded no less.
The Golden Woman disagreed. “There isn’t any payback. It was the right thing to do. If you want to give, pay it forward. Help someone else in need. Try not close your eyes when you see someone suffering.”
“As for the clothes, I don’t think anyone has looked in those trunks in years. If I’d known you were here, I would’ve gotten you more food than a few tomatoes and berries. Now are you ready?” Selene asked.
Zorya hugged her young friends to her nodding. “We won’t ever forget you.”
Then in a flash of light they were somewhere else.
Looking up at the stars as I fell asleep I asked Hap, “You didn’t have anything to do with Vonda and my unusual reactions kissing tonight did you?”
Her laughter made me smile. “Only in the granting of your desires. You wanted a healthy responsive body all those years ago, and that is what I gave. You both are very fit young women who were also as you put it frustrated. Additionally, you both had a full day’s labor that yielded the same results as a ‘runner’s high.’ That combination was a perfect storm of events. It might happen again and it might not.”
I apologized, “Sorry about that Hap. I guess I’m a little paranoid sometimes. What you did not telling me about the girls being here all day kinda set me on edge. Additionally, we never have worked out why I’m here or why my hearing is so much better.”
“And as I’ve said, I am sorry. Even CI’s makes mistakes. They’re just usually different from the ones you biological types make. As for how and why you’re here, we really have only two basic choices,” she said. “Either it’s happenstance or chance or someone caused it. I personally lean towards the planned agenda.”
“Why’s that Hap?” I asked. “I kinda want it to be simply a wild spin of the wheel. That way I don’t’ have to be worrying about whoever or whatever caused it is up to.”
I heard the humor in her voice. “Both of my reasons are connected. You arrived just as things were coming to a crisis with the Career Day Program. The incident with you and your mother hasten the changes needed to make it the positive force it was intended. Additionally, your involvement also brought to light to the medical community the physical causes and of how sexual and gender diverse your species truly are. That led to more research into the phenomena as well as laws protecting your minority.”
I had to cover my mouth to keep from giggling out loud. “You’re making me sound like a Wonder Woman. Next you’ll be saying I was sent back in time to save Sarah Connors from the Terminator!”
There was sadness in what she said next. “Perhaps that is exactly what you did, Lee. Think about this. You’re just now becoming mature as my builder’s technology is starting to spread worldwide. Consider Zorya and the girls as an example. In order to continue to encourage your species to learn and experiment, l have to allow enough leeway that also permits abuse. Too often it is dissenters and the disadvantaged like Zorya that is thrown upon that sacrificial altar.”
“A Tesla, Pasteur, or Hemingway butchered so some egotistical dictator can try to have his super soldier or extend his own life indefinitely. Last night you kept that from happening to those three. I am hoping that I can avoid having to call on you again. As I learn more about humanity, the better I can come up with other solutions.”
“I hope so too, Hap.” I said with feeling. "However if it does becomes necessary I will do my best to be available. Just remember I need to know before it becomes crisis so we can plan the best way to as you said come up with other solutions. Sure I got them and me out without anyone being too badly hurt, but with some planning maybe I could’ve prevented anyone at all from getting harmed. I’m ashamed of myself for losing my temper there at the end. After all I didn’t have any idea who really hurt Zorya. Maybe those guys were responsible, and maybe they weren’t. Planning might’ve been able to avoid that situation completely.”
“I understand, and I‘ll do my very best to give you as much time as I can. I’m a Constructed Intelligence many orders of technologies above what your people can build. Like I’ve already pointed out, that doesn’t mean I can’’t make mistakes. Before you stumbled close enough to the Direct Access command, I had no communications with your people. I had access to hundreds of thousands of their memories and experiences, but I couldn’t talk to any of them.
“Perhaps given the advanced rate of technology here, someone else would’ve been able to gain access sooner than the 10 to 15 years in your time to come up with the concepts necessary. However because you did, I learned enough to change my policies. It’s possible to kill with kindness and cause misery with the very best of intentions.
“That’s not including having your experiences from your previous timeline which aided me in refining my own models of your peoples behavior. You being here has not only helped me act more efficiently, it gave me other, and I hope, better options. So perhaps you did save your world from a machine running amok!”
I buried my head in my pillow to muffle my laugh. “That’s me! Come with me if you want to live! I still think you’re making too much of all of this. I do see your point about my presence making changes, but that’s expected. On the other hand I really haven’t done anything. Yes, I did save the girls, but I can’t see that making that much difference in the larger scheme of things. I’m sure the Soviets will get another scanner, but maybe this time they’ll use it more intelligently.”
Hap replied dryly, “Really? That must have been someone else who wrote a letter to the President with that story included. Or the other two books speaking of tolerance and understanding from a child’s point of view. No, Lee you were given a priceless second chance. You’ve done much to make the very best of it. I’m proud to call you my friend.”
Blushing, I said, “I’m happy to call you my friend too.” Snuggling under the sheets, I wished, “Good. Night Hap.”
“Good night Lee.”
To be continued.
The final part of Vol. 2 in which we see what happens to Teresa and Vonda.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Teresa’s story
A Career Day short
By
Grover
Teresa hugged her knees to herself looking up at the stars. Sitting on the roof of her house, she had a good view of the of July night sky. A breeze that was almost cooling gently ruffled her hair. For just a few moments she could forget what was going on inside below her.
The sound of her Dad’s drunken cussing as he yelled at her long suffering Mom about something inconsequential. Her Mom wasn’t much better as she screamed back just as drunk.
Okay, maybe not that bad since Teresa thought half the reason her mother drank as heavy as she did was because of her poor excuse for a father.
Her friend, Lee, had it right when she called him, nothing more than a big bully power tripping on pushing around his own family. Never mind that he was abusing those he should be treating with the most kindness. It was more important to demean his own family to push up his own minuscule ego a few impossible to discern notches. It wasn’t a big pond, but by Gawd it was his pond. He was the boss. May he find the joy of it when he found himself all alone.
Teresa could hardly bear waiting for that to happen. She loved her mother, but the sooner she could slam the door behind her the better. She was out of here. There was no telling how poor Mom would take the truth that her son Hal was her daughter Teresa. However, there was no doubt how the Ogre would. If she could, she would try and get her Mom out of this hell, but her own necessities came first.
She rested her head in her arms, only two years. Just two more eternities, that was all, before she could finally be free of this body that imprisoned her. Free to be the person she’d always been, but was afraid to reveal to the world.
A rustle in the tree between her and Vonda’s house alerted her company was coming.
“Hi,” her friend whispered stepping onto the roof with her. “I thought you would be up here,” she said cutting her eyes towards the drunken row going on beneath them.
Teresa shrugged. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d sought peace out here.
Then gently touching her arm Vonda asked, “How are you?”
“Not too bad, I guess.” Teresa shrugged again. “I’ve been able to stay out his way. He must’ve started drinking as soon as he got home. That’s why I came out here.” Then trying to change the subject, she asked, “You ever think about Lee being a Wildcard?”
It was Vonda’s turn to give a tired sigh. “All the time. Everyone sees just how fast she can run and thinks that’s it.” She shook head. “But that isn’t it at all. Even all the other things like the martial arts and the Parkour stuff not that scary.
“It’s how fast she can learn things. I mean, I’ve taken dancing lessons for ages, but she didn’t start really trying until the start of the summer. Now two months later she’s dancing like my teacher who’s been doing this her whole life.” She said.
“I know,” Teresa agreed. “All the physical things she can do is a real trip. I know she started this Parkour thing because of us, and that showdown with Chris last month, but look what she’s done. None of us, not even she, really knew a whole lot about it. She ordered those books and when that wasn’t enough, she writing her own while teaching us.
“It’s like watching one of those geniuses you read about in person. Lee is never mean or stuck-up about it, but like when she’s working out a new Parkour move she is so far ahead of us when working out a solution it’s not funny.” Teresa explained, but asked, “However why do you call it scary? I admit it‘s kinda amazing, but frightening?”
Her friend Vonda got quiet, letting them hear the drunken fight inside all too well.
“It’s because she’s so far beyond us, beyond me,” she said in a small voice. “What’s going to happen in college when Lee can really stretch her wings? You know how crazy for outer-space she is. I’m just afraid I won’t be able to keep up with her.”
Teresa gave her friend a hug.
“You know it’s like that song says, ‘Que Sera, Sera, What will be, will be.’
“I know.” Vonda sadly sighed, “The future not ours to see.”
“You know,” Teresa pointed out. “You might be the one to leave her. After all, once you get to medical school you’ll have a huge selection of guys to choose from.” Then explaining, she added, “I know you rather find a man you were attracted to instead of a woman. Besides it’s not as if you have a lot of choices stuck out here in the Boondocks.”
Vonda turned her head away.
“I don’t want to be a lesbian, but when I’m with Lee it’s as if the whole world is singing and it’s just the two of us dancing to the song. This is all so confusing.” she choked out near tears.
“I know.” Teresa held her friend. “The church we go to, says how I feel is all wrong. It’s the Devil making us want perverted things. However, the doctors are saying that there’s real biological reasons why we’re different. Yes, even you,” she said, “I understand that using the scanners, they’ve found gay people’s brains are put together differently too. Like mine is more like a girl’s than a boy’s, parts of yours are probably more like a male. That’s why you like Lee the way you do.”
“I’ve read that too.” Vonda gave her a playful push. “My Dad is a doctor, remember? There’s a big argument among the experts about it. Some say it’s a deformity and should be fixed, while others like my Dad says, once a person goes through puberty, it’s too late. Changing the brain at that late date would mean changing who the person is. Like with bad head trauma, you could mess up their entire personality doing more harm than good.”
They stopped speaking as something loud crashed inside.
More stomping and creaking echoed from within.
“Do you hear my Mom at all?” Teresa asked, growing worried.
Vonda shook her head no in the pale moonlight.
Almost afraid to say it, Teresa looked at each her friend. “I think I need to check on what’s going on down there.” She said worrying about her Mom.
“Where are you, Boy? I’m going to make a man out of you even if it kills me!” Her Father drunkenly bellowed.
That was all they needed to hear. Both of them slipped off the second story roof landing lithely like acrobats on the soft green lawn. Slipping the spare house key from it’s hiding place Teresa carefully peeked in.
“Don’t make me come get you, Boy! Git yer butt here!” Her Father slurred voice came from upstairs making both of them jump.
Teresa’s heart jumped in her chest as she saw her poor dumpy Mom laying on the kitchen floor. Blood was all over the place from a gash on her head.
Vonda knelt next to her checking the fallen woman’s pulse.
“She’s still breathing and her pulse seems strong.” Then seeing her friend staring at all the blood, Vonda added, “Head wounds always bleed heavy.”
Making herself think, Teresa whispered, “Let’s call the ambulance from your place before he hears us.”
“You downstairs, Boy? I told you not to run from me!” The Ogre hollered again.
“Too late!” Vonda grabbed her hand pulling her to the door.
They heard him banging down the stairs, as the two of them flew out the door.
“You tell your Dad what’s happening,” Teresa said. “I’ll stay out here just in case he tries to follow.”
Reading the indecision on her friend’s face, she added, “It’s Okay. No way is he going to run me down after all of Lee’s obstacle course training. Better I keep him busy, instead of him starting a fight with your folks.”
Nodding, Vonda turned and ran the short distance to her home while Teresa watched. No one could have a better friend.
Wham! Teresa winced as her liquored up Father slammed open the front door of his house.
Silently, she reminded herself, she had to be him now, Hal. Her mental cheat sheet how to be a boy appeared before her mind’s eye. Like an ill fitting set of clothes, he slouched, but stayed loose in case he had to run.
“There you are, Boy! Git over here!” The Ogre commanded.
No, he shook his head not daring to speak. Well, it was an Ogre after all.
Staggering down the porch stairs, his Father snarled, “You will do what I say!”
Just like he and Vonda had planned if anything like this happened, Hal vaulted the neighbor’s wisteria covered fence. Unlike the plan, he waited for his Father to catch up. After all he wanted to draw the Ogre away from hurting anyone else.
Overweight with a beer belly badly overhanging his belt, there was just no way the older man was getting over that fence.
Red faced his eyes gleamed red in alcoholic fueled anger. “You’re going to pay for making me chase you! I’m going to teach you real good!”
His Father realizing couldn’t go over the fence had to go around. The older man hadn’t reached the end before he kneeled over red faced and throwing up.
This was such a strange moment for Teresa. All her life, this man had terrified her. Mostly he kept his hands off of her, but the few times he had stuck her, had made her carefully keep her distance whenever she could. Even now he was much bigger than she, although some of that was fat, too much was muscle too.
Like Lee said, for small people like them, letting a goon get their hands on you was a big, no-no. Size after all did matter. However, so did using what you had to your best advantage. Being smaller, younger and more flexible, they were much faster and could go places someone like the Ogre couldn’t dream of.
Even when she was pretending to be Hal. It’d gotten so much harder as she’d grown older to put on that disguise. Although every piece of it existed only inside her head, that pretend person pulled and constrained her every second she had it on. The tightness wrapped around her heart stole her identity as it took her very breath away, even as it gave some measure of protection.
A defense she’d long learned was an absolute necessity. Chris Sawyer’s prosecution of Lee proved that. Even as much as she was so envious of the girl who was able to transition before her, it’d demonstrated that although a girl in every single way it still wasn’t good enough for some idiots. That was what Lee called them. Act like a girl, sound like a girl, look like a girl must be a girl, you morons!
Looking down at the sad scene in front of her, Teresa had to agree. It didn’t matter what things really were, only what they wanted. Everything else was just justification for their stupidity. She didn’t decide to be this way, it was the way Gawd had made her, the way she was born. And just like there was nothing wrong with the doctors fixing a hare-lip or other birth defect, there was nothing wrong with repairing her problem either. The only thing that stopped her was the fear. Fear of this man who was so pathetically puking his guts out.
Lee’s Dad had warned that this might happened. Teresa did feel guilty her Mom had been caught in this, but the fight they’d been having sounded like so many others that kept the whole neighborhood up at night. This time just maybe, he’d finally crossed a line.
Glancing up she saw, Vonda and her Dad sprinting across their yard to her house.
“You’re going to learn to do what you’re told,” the Ogre grated out, spitting out a mouth full of something unspeakable. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet using the fence.
Then again perhaps not. This was a small town, and it certainly wasn’t the first time a woman had ended up in the hospital because of a man. The Sheriff and the Preacher would come by and smooth everything over, but nothing would change.
Change. Lee always said if they wanted something to change they had to make it. ‘Words,’ she said, ‘were powerful of tools for those wanting things to be different, to change the world for the better.’
She backed away from the drunk weaving towards her. No, a woman getting beat up here wouldn’t change anything. Her Mom wouldn’t do anything. She like everyone else around here accepted this was just the way things were.
Teresa sighed. Mr. Younger opened her eyes. Lee’s Dad simply didn’t put up with BS in any shape or form. He’d shown her that the Ogre, the man she’d been frightened of all her life was nothing more than a bully as petty as any out on the schoolyard.
That thought gave her an impulsive desire to go over and kick the poor excuse for a man in front of her. However the unmistakable bubblegum machine shape turning the corner convinced her it wasn’t wise.
It was the Sheriff himself, and for him to make here so fast he would’ve had to been already on his way. That wouldn’t be unusual given the ruckus her drunken father had been making nor was it the first time. Most the deputies kept away, but the Sheriff had enough authority to make even the Ogre behave himself.
Looking down at her father, he’d managed to stand with the help of the fence post.
“Get over here, boy!” He slurred. “I’ll teach you what it means not to mind me.”
Silently, she shook her head. He’d no idea the Sheriff was pulling up right behind him. Glancing at her house, she saw Vonda worriedly looking for her.
The Sheriff got out of his cruiser, sighing, while putting on his cowboy style hat.
“Ray, what do you think you’re doing?” He said, showing his displeasure. “I hear Mildred is unconscious and bleeding, while you go chasing your son down the street at one in the morning.”
Not waiting for a reply, the lawman looked at her. Remembering her cheat sheet, she told herself, “I’m Hal.”
“Go on home, Hal.” He said. “The ambulance will be here directly and Doc will give you a ride to the hospital.”
“Yes sir.” He made an extra wide detour around his father. Boy, I’m a boy, walk like one.
All the while, his father’s eyes were locked on him.
He must not have done it right, because his father shouted and lunged.
“Ain’t no boy of mine going to be no hippy faggot!”
Hal didn’t need any directions; he took off running towards Vonda, his friend.
“Ray,” the Sheriff said, “I’m warning you, stop this right now.”
“Nobody can tell my boy what to do excepting me!” Hal heard from behind him, and then a meaty smack.
Glancing back, the Sheriff was sprawled on the ground, and his father was lurching his way.
Wondering if he should lure the Ogre away again, Hal blinked when the Sheriff got up.
“Go on home, son. You don’t need to see this.” He said pulling out his nightstick. “Ray, you really, really shouldn’t have done that.”
“That was striking a law enforcement officer in the performance of his duties. This is resisting arrest, and if you don’t want any more just lay there. I’m sure I can think of a few more like drunk and disorderly.”
Hal didn’t stick around for any more although he was tempted. It should’ve been satisfying to see the person who’d hit him often enough get some of their own medicine. It bothered him that all he felt was a kind of sadness. If only just once his father could’ve been happy about something, any thing Hal had ever done. However not even one single time had that ever happened. He’d even wondered if he was adopted, but it wasn’t that either.
He was just another belonging whose only purpose was to reflect positive vibes back to his owner. His mother, the house, and everything father ever brought were to make the old bastard feel good. Not one single bit was selfless or without some other motivation. If Hal wasn’t very manly then in the Ogre’s eyes that said he wasn’t much of a man either.
Personally, the teen rather agreed with those sentiments. However as much as he really hated to admit it, the bastard was still his father. Hal couldn’t help the way he felt, but that didn’t mean he was going let his father hurt him or ruin his life. The jury was still out regarding Mom.
In a flash Teresa was back. Putting that boy disguise aside, she ran for all she was worth to her mother, Mom.
“Dad thinks she’s going to be okay,” Vonda said meeting her at the door.
Even still seeing her Mom laying there with the all that blood, nearly tore her apart. Maybe that woman there hadn’t accepted the truth that Hal was really nothing more than a handy screen to hide behind, but she was still the mother who’d held her when she’d hurt herself or needed comforting. And despite pressure from the man she married, she’d still had supported letting her child explore their own interests, like art.
“I know it looks bad” Vonda’s father said not looking up at her. “But I have the bleeding under control and her vital signs are strong. We need to check for a concussion, but since it’s likely an assault was involved I think we can push for Med-scanner treatment. Often in criminal cases, the scanner can provide a lot more detail for the police investigation as well as catch things even the best doctors can miss,” he explained.
Hugging herself Teresa just hugged herself and waited what seemed liked forever for the ambulance to arrive. The ride to the hospital, as well as the nerve-wracking time in the waiting room was nearly unbearable. However, Vonda and her Mom was right there with her.
She felt like swooning when Vonda’s Dad finally came out to give them news.
“She’s going to be fine, Hal.” He said, smiling. “We took care of some others problems while we had her under the Scanner. She’ll probably be feeling better than ever before and sure you can go see her.” He said answering her other unasked question.
With him guiding her though the hospital’s labyrinth, she paused a moment to put Hal’s face on again. Sighing, she breathed out. How could doing such a simple thing take so much out of her. It was like an enormous burden that weighted her down her very spirit. She did know this pretending was becoming harder and more difficult.
That didn’t even touch on his feelings for Ricky. The hum that swept though him made her know beyond a shadow of a doubt this was not the time. Like everything else in his life it was complicated.
Opening the door, there was Mom lying on the bed. He repeated to himself. I’m Hal. He’s a boy. I’m Hal. He’s me. I’m a boy.
She looked pale and tired, but that was much better than the bleeding body on the kitchen floor
Holding out her arm, Mom beckoned for her.
That was all it took for Hal to vanish, as she threw herself into her Mom’s arms.
Time passed as they simply hugged their love as mother and child a balm to the problems that faced them. Reluctantly, there were difficulties that had to be faced.
“Where’s your Father,” she asked, holding Teresa’s hand.
She didn’t need to look to Vonda’s dad to know he didn’t want Mom upset. However, she didn’t know how to say this without it causing a problem.
“I think he got into trouble with the Sheriff, Mom.”
“Do you know what we were fighting about?” Her Mother asked after a moment.
Teresa shook her head, no.
“It was about you.” Her Mother said looking at her. “He wanted you to quit that job although you were doing well there. All he could say was he wanted to make you become a man.”
Silence passed between them.
“You were never really my son were you?” Mom softly squeezed her hand.
Shaking her head, Teresa didn’t dare speak.
“I suppose I’ve always known you were at heart, my daughter. Maybe that’s why I’ve tried to protect you. Why didn’t that machine fix you like it did your friend Lee?
“I think it picked up on how afraid I was at the time. Remember it showed me pictures of myself in different careers. Lee says it records our reaction to each one narrowing down the field until it reaches the ones we like and fits us the best.
“So yes, it knew from my brain that I should’ve been a girl, but it also read the fear I felt seeing the pictures of me and knowing how Dad would react.” She hugged her mother still feeling trapped between the rock of the fright and that cold hard place that stole her very soul and identity from her. She had to hold on. This story would have a happy ending. Vonda and Lee was there to help, and perhaps even more importantly, Ricky was too. He reassured her that she was more than what she pretended. That Teresa deserved to be who she was, and was loved. Not as a classmate or friend, but as a woman.
Her Mother sighed.
“It seems wrong that a machine should be so smart.” She waved her hands about in distress. “This is all unnatural, boys changing into girls and girls into boys. But you’re my baby, and I love you. I may not understand it, but I can see how unhappy you are.”
“I heard it called, Future Shock, Mom.” Teresa explained. “That’s what they call it when science and technology advances so fast people don’t have time to adapt to all the changes.”
“Is that something your friends Vonda or Lee came up with?” Her Mother asked.
“Mom!” She giggled, “No, Orson Welles. He made a documentary about it a couple of years ago.”
“So it’s not enough to overwhelm a soul, but they have to give even that a name too.” Mom just shook her, but she did laugh.
Then a long moment passed where neither said anything.
“So what do we do now?” Teresa asked, at last.
“I don’t know, baby.” Mom replied, sighing. “It felt so good to be in someone’s arms who really wanted me. I always knew your father had a mean spot, but I guess I thought I could change him.
“That hasn’t worked out any too good.” The older woman admitted holding her child. “He’s done nothing, but get worse.”
They didn’t have to say anything else. Both of them knew of his temper and how he was when drunk, which was happening more and more often.
“I vowed before Gawd to love and comfort your Father.” Her Mom sighed. “Not this,” she said meaning being in the hospital. “And now you tell me that he got in trouble with the Sheriff too.” Then after a pause she asked softly, “Did he hurt you?”
“No, he was so drunk, it was easy to run away.” Teresa said. “Then the Sheriff showed up.”
“Pastor James will say your father deserves the chance to change, but I’m not that much of fool. If he hasn’t done so for the better in the last 17 years it’s real unlikely he’ll start now.” Her mother sighed again.
“Well, staying with your grandparents is out. They worship the ground he walks on. Granddad is cut from the same cloth although I know for certain he never struck her or any of us kids. Your granny would’ve castrated him for even thinking that. So it looks like we might be staying with your aunt Sadie in Columbia. Besides they’ll have doctors that can explain what’s going on with you. That might mean you having to quit that summer job of yours.” Mom said.
“I don’t know what we will do if I have to divorce him.” Her Mom looked so pale and worn. “Try and find work I guess, but I don’t know how I could keep you in that private school then.”
Teresa thought about the problems that would cause. There was the books, and lot of work still left to do on the illustrations. Even more important was her friends and how completing school where she was would help her get into the university of her choice. Weighting her choices it seemed like the least bad.
“Mom,” she began. “You know how you’ve said my art stuff was good enough to sell. Well, you were right ….”
Deal or No Deal, How much is a Dream Worth?
This story is fiction and is intended to be treated as such. It has harsh language and deals with Transgender themes. If this would offend you please stop reading, I don't want you to go blind! Thanks to Janet, HER and Paula for the rush job in Proofing but of course any mistakes are mine. This is a different type of story from my others so keep an open mind please. Batteries are not included some assembly is required.
Mark had huge butterflies about this meeting, but the sooner begun, the sooner it would be over. Mr. Bix skittered in on its multiple legs with its six eyes waving covered with pseudo sunglasses. Its green, fur lined, broad brim hat with its bright feather was a shocking contrast with the orange leather coat it wore.
Things just hadn't been the same since the Galactic Organization for Trade and the Celestial Help Association had made contact just a short year ago. Representatives of various Galactic businesses had set up offices on Earth and had embarrassingly used old film and TV characters as templates on how to conduct affairs here.
Mr. Bix was dressed in a very misunderstood Alien version of a nineteen seventy's Pimp. Wasting no time, he placed the aluminum brief case on the table between them and slid it towards Mark. “So Bitch, Deal or No Deal?”
Mark cleared his throat. Just a year ago he would never had taken this kind of verbal abuse, but here in the GOT & CHA trade embassy, it was their rules. “My attorney and I have serious problems about the terms of this contract.”
Mr. Bix scratched himself where a human's sexual organs would be, but who knows with Aliens. “Yo, what's your problem, Whore? It states that in return for paying you one million Zulac's, you will be transformed into a female employee of Biz's Traveling Extravaganza, the finest sex show touring this Galactic Arm. The Bimbo-morph-ifer will make you a super-fine piece of Ass. You'll be everything a G-Woman ever wanted with big firm Tits, a great Ass, and legs all the way to here.”
Nervously, Mark pointed out, “That's part of the problem. According to the fine print, even my personality and memories may be erased or altered at your whim. Not only that, but the terms of employment is open ended giving no set time limits for return of the original personality or re-payment of the debt.”
“My attorney advised me to trash this thing because this is nothing more than selling myself into sexual slavery with no opportunity for freedom. What would be the use of being rich if I have no memory of it?,” Mark finished.
Mr. Bix gave a nasty laugh, “Yo, you got a fine attorney there, Bitch! The best scams are always the ones in purple and puce . You know you T-Bitches want it bad. What more would a breeder want, Whore?”
Mark replied, “How about a loving partner and a family to raise and nurture? What about love and compassion as part of a lasting relationship?”
The little Alien gave a dismissive wave of its tentacles, “So, Bitch, Deal or No Deal?”
Mark shook a little, “No Deal,” and slid the case back to the Pimp.
Mr Bix took its case, rose and left the room ignoring the tears leaking from the human. It loved these recently contacted worlds with low tech. T-Bitches were always so desperate for what it could offer that it never had any problems meeting its quota. So what if this one turned down the Deal? There would always be others.
If I had to die, I wanted, I had to die pretty. Die Pretty
by Grover |
Dead. They were all dead. Mr. Morton our teacher and adviser; Julie, Rodger, Stu, and the rest of my fellows for our student film project; my classmates who had tagged along as casting extras and the excuse to party on our dime. Everyone was dead.
Along in the oppressive darkness of the small room, I held myself tightly rocking back and forth. In retrospection filming a Halloween party at the old Schreck place wasn’t such a good idea, but how were we to know?
The Thing might look like a man in a Halloween mask, but we soon learned different. We had shot, stabbed, burned, and clubbed the Monster, but it had ignored all our efforts and continued to torture and kill us. Now it was just me, only me.
I could hear It outside the door as it tapped the blade of the butcher’s knife it favored against the doorknob. The small room I’d taken refuge in was full of stuff our film crew wanted kept safe away from our classmates’ mischievous pranks. An inner room, it didn’t have any windows and had a heavy duty lock since it’d been used as a makeshift armory and gun safe in days long gone.
Exhausted in mind, and body I could hardly move. My cuts, burns and other injuries hurt, but I had a hard time caring. Part of me knew it was shock, however that demonic tap, tap just feet away kept me from worrying about it. Shortly that thing would get tire of its game and kill me like It had the others.
I was going to die. Death.
Somehow that thought pulled me from the void where my soul stood. This wasn’t my first time standing at that bleak edge looking out into the nothingness. The only difference was this time it wasn’t despair which threatened my life.
“Die pretty,” I whispered to myself. If I was going to die I wanted, I had to die pretty.
I knew I couldn’t kill this Thing. The thirty some odd of us had tried everything and they had all failed. The only thing left now was deciding how I was to die.
Crack! A thunderous blow shook the door, but the thing was only playing with me as that horrible metallic tapping resumed.
I opened my eyes digging for the small flashlight in my pocket. Its light revealed the backup generator the film crew had stashed in here to run their equipment as well as my makeup cases and the girls’ wardrobe stuff.
Numb but still somewhat rational, I reasoned that turning on the power would simply enrage it and end this before I was ready. It wasn’t the best light to work with but Mr. Morton had made sure we brought along a lot of flashlights and spare batteries.
Opening my cases, I cleaned my face with some wipes and began hiding the damage I’d suffered on this terrible night. That was how I’d ended up here to start with. The geeky boy with a talent for special effects makeup who was always popular with the theatrical department and come Halloween time. I’d never told anyone why I’d really gotten interested in makeup and masks.
As I began my transformation, the unfeeling numbness I was experiencing was so very strange. There was none of my usual euphoria or the quiet joy that came with my revealing my true self.
Slowly the face I was born with disappeared, as appliances, and foundation did their magic. All the while that tapping kept me from forgetting my death waited just outside.
Thunk! I jumped involuntarily as the Monster sunk his bloody blade deep into the door shielding me from his rage.
Remembering to breathe, I corrected the mistake I’d made with my eye shadow. At least I hadn’t been using mascara or eyeliner right then. This had to be perfect and that would be hard to do without an eye.
Slipping on the sexy Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, costume I’d hidden among the girls’ things, I gave myself a careful critical evaluation as another “Thunk” reverberated about my small makeshift studio.
Not satisfied I made a couple of adjustments to the beautiful long dark wig that so much of my savings had gone into. There finished.
I still managed the four inch ‘witchy’ pumps despite my limp from the nail gun one of my friends had gotten me with earlier trying to stop the Monster.
Touching the doorknob to end this, I could hear its hoarse breathing on the other side of my wooden barrier. My eyes fell back on the generator. Did I dare? Did I have anything to left to lose?
Thankfully, the generator cranked to life without a murmur. Its roar was answered by one from the Monster. Maddened, its butcher’s blade turned the door into matchsticks. Like a force of nature maybe, but even he was blinded by all the lights, including the reflective photo lighting ‘umbrellas’ I had aimed at the door.
Like the rest of my costume, my dagger was as authentic as I could make it. In this case a Middle Eastern style blade with four inches of razor steel. Careful, deliberately, I stepped forward driving it into his heart.
The Thing just looked down at it. Then It grabbed the wrist of my hand with the dagger. Shaking its head at me the Monster drove the butcher knife into the rickety table I’d been using making my makeup supplies jump into the air.
Then It snatched up my other hand.
‘This is gonna hurt,’ I thought as the juice from the generator poured into us. He flew backwards as I fell twitching. Somehow I kept the bare wires between my makeshift isolators and my flesh from completing the circuit like they had when gruesome had seized my wrists.
I’d added to my collection of burns, but I’d gotten a piece of him. Reaching back with my foot I pulled the extension cord plug out of the generator. Standing, the cord snaked up my long black dress where I’d split the wires and bared the ends under my long sleeves.
Picking up the grounding rod and small mallet that came with the generator’s gear, I removed my small dagger although the suction fought me. Blam, blam I hammered the rod though the hole I’d already made in his chest.
Not taking any chances and not knowing just what in the hell it was, I poured the only salt I had from a small shaker we had bought for snacks into his mouth. Okay that should do it if he’s a zombie.
Now for the hard part; I forced myself up again. Using both hands I pried up that bloody knife that had killed so many of my friends tonight. Almost falling, I knelt next to him holding that grisly tool high above my head.
I’d hoped that having a foot of iron though his chest would be enough because I didn’t have a wooden stake handy.
His eyes snapped opened.
I brought the knife down with all of my strength.
Hands flying to his throat, he tried to stop the ichor leaking out.
“Happy Halloween,” I grated as I chopped again and again.
Wearily I looked at its face, but this time the eyes stayed shut. I let the ghastly thing roll away my energy spent.
I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is someone shinning a light into my eye. Dazedly I looked around at the sea of flashing lights and uniformed people.
They must have questions, but I’d no idea what to tell them. The truth wouldn’t be believed.
“It’s okay Miss. Everything is going to be fine,” the paramedic told me as he examined me.
I couldn’t even cry. If only. It’d never been alright. However I had to know. “Is it dead?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.
Someone in a dark suit came into view. “Yes, Miss it’s dead.”
With those words my eyes closed. It was dead. I was safe.
I heard them asking me questions, but I no longer cared. They would soon find out what I really was under this dress. Then my ordeal would really begin. Perhaps they might believe this was only a costume or maybe they would even blame me for all of this.
But right now I was safe. Sleep, please, please just let me sleep ...
Into the jaws of death the Knight rode. Before him, the early morning fog lingered over the burnt remains of the entrance to the vale. There no signs that once a village had prospered within those borders.
“Might I ask what you think you’re doing?” A voice out of nowhere rumbled like thunder.
Into the jaws of death the Knight rode. Before him, the early morning fog lingered over the burnt remains of the entrance to the vale. There no signs that once a village had prospered within those borders.
“Might I ask what you think you’re doing?” A voice out of nowhere rumbled like thunder.
Steadfastly, the Knight ignored the unseen Beast’s question. He’d hoped to surprise the monster as it left it’s lair to feed. Now that he’d been spotted far too early, that advantage was lost. He looked for the monster, but saw naught. Keeping to his task, he picked out the best path to its cave for he and his destrier to begin their charge.
From all accounts, he would need all the destructive power his lance could provide. It was said to be tall enough to peer over the high walls of the King’s own castle and its wings so broad they could blot out the noon sun. The commoners fleeing the attack on their home spoke of it being larger than any of their barns. His own reconnaissance had failed to spot any signs of the monster. The wily Beast was no doubt lying low inside the fire blasted vale.
If the Knight wanted to slay the dragon, he would have to go in after it. However, anyone prowling around inside the charred ring surrounding the vale proper would be easily seen. In the end, he decided surprise was worth more than any intelligence he could gain by risky direct observation.
He, like everyone else, thought the entire vale had been destroyed by the fires, but instead only a killing zone had been cleared away on the hills surrounding this area the Dragon had picked for its lair. Only once inside the vale proper, could one see the rich green orchards and crystal blue lake, it was renown for, still remained.
His chances for surviving this had changed and not for the better. Not that he cared. From the very beginning the odds had been against him. They had always been against him. He’d known and accepted that the moment he’d agreed to this quest.
The Beast would be dead by his hand, or it would kill him. His bravery and courage would be proven on the field of battle or the constant pain, but not pain which had plagued him his entire life would finally be ended. The Knight welcomed either outcome.
Fearlessly he rode forward determined to make his fortune or meet his fate’s end.
“Not very talkative are you,” That voice rumbled again. “That last fool couldn’t stop running his mouth with all the Thee’s and Thou’s; Evil this, and Foul that,” the Dragon mocked the last brave knight that had courageously tried to end its reign of terror.
He pulled his faithful charger to a halt. The knight still hadn’t spotted his foe. Fortunately the charred trees of the boundary didn’t offer any cover for the beast to hide. Unfortunately, they also didn’t help conceal him either. He was risking all that the monster was still within the cave where it laired which he could see from the tall saddle astride his mount.
“Not much of a knight in shining armor either is you?” That damnable voice continued to taunt him. “That other fool’s carapace was so bright that I nearly kept it for use as a mirror. But atlas, it fared worse for wear during our encounter.”
The Knight kept silent using one gauntleted hand to calm his destrier. It was true his own armor was lacking compare to other knights of the realm. His family lacked the great wealth required for gleaming plate mail. He did his best to make the best of the scale mail he wore, which provided nearly as much protection. Intentionally he’d dulled and covered anything that could serve to make him an easy target.
No quest for glory or knightly chivalry had bought him here. He was here to kill the beast anyway he could.
“I do wonder why they sent a girl to do a man’s job?” The voice jeered once more.
He gritted his teeth till they grounded together like millstones. Reflexively his fear fueled anger rose, but he did the best he could to remain calm. Berserk rage wouldn’t serve him here despite the protection and reputation it’d given him over the years. All soon learned to their woe that he dealt harshly with those who dared question his manhood.
“And a virgin too no less,” ridiculed the Dragon. “Are you here to fight or are you here in answer to my tithe for a virgin of noble birth?”
“I’m no one’s sacrifice!” He shouted back, his temper finally getting the best of him. “It’s your death that awaits you!”
“Ah, the shy lass has found her voice.” The Dragon goaded back. “But what? No denial of what truly lies within your heart despite your outward appearance? As for you being my death, I don’t think so. I did not grow so old by allowing a foolish human on horseback to stick me with a pointy thing.” The Beast laughed.
“And who said anything about a sacrifice?” The voice continued. “A human would make less than a mouthful for me. That’s what my demand for a herd of cattle was for, food. Perhaps your so-called King forgot to mention that.” The Beast sarcastically added.
“Only that you demanded the Princess as a sacrifice.” The Knight shouted back affronted that the monster would accurse the King of falsehood.
“His daughter?” The Dragon roared its mirth. “I can assure you that she’s not a virgin.”
“How dare you insult the Princess’s honor!” The Knight yelled back at his enemy.
“What honor she had was given away long ago. She’s as a much a cold-hearted manipulator as her father. Even if I did consider eating food that talk back to me, I wouldn’t touch that. It's a bad idea to eat things that you have no idea where it’s been.”
“Then why demand the Princess?” The Knight barked back growing frustrated at his hidden foe’s taunts. He was beginning to suspect that the beast was outside the cave and watching him somehow. Searching yet again, his sharp eyes found nothing.
“Not the Princess, but a virgin of noble birth.” The Dragon corrected. “Although she might make the better hostage, the Princess is far too much a spoiled child of privilege. No doubt she would complain about everything. No, most definitely not the Princess,” the Dragon concluded.
“However, I do love to read, and those of noble blood are usually better educated and more likely to be literate. Talons weren’t designed for turning pages, so I enjoy being read to or at the very least having someone to turn the pages.” The Dragon explained.
Shocked, the Knight stopped his fanatic hunt for his enemy.
“You mean all you wanted was a servant?” He asked scandalized that the creature would demand a noble lady for such a demeaning task.
“Not a servant,” The Dragon corrected again. “A hostage as a pledge my tithing would be paid on time, and a companion to aid me in those things which I have difficulty.”
“Then why in the name of the Gods does she has to be a virgin?” The knight demanded. “Any number of Ladies at the court would be suitable.”
“But would she hold as much value? As a virgin she has yet to be married and would be considered to be much less expendable than one of the older ladies. Besides, dragons find those who have yet to fall into carnality more pleasing.
“Already your King has tried to twist the truth of the situation to make me the villain of this drama. I carefully picked this kingdom because it can easily afford my rather modest demands. In exchange, I ensure that other less neighborly creatures behave themselves.” The Beast further explained.
“That’s extortion!” Exclaimed the Knight.
“No more so than when the King’s own great-grandfather first came here and claimed these lands. Just as he forced the natives here to accept his rule, so now do I. However, I think I can do without all the beheadings. His great-grandfather was really not very pleasant.” The Beast chuckled.
“You knew Great King Charles?” The Knight scoffed. “Impossible, he lived a hundred years ago.”
“Be careful with that word, lass,” The Beast warned patronizingly. “Dragons are very long lived. A hundred years are, but a mere hand span for us. No, I didn’t know him, but our senses are keen. Just as I know your secrets, I knew what was happening here during that time. He was called many things, but Great wasn't among them I can assure you.
The Knight thought about the request for a virgin, and said, “Don’t tell me you’re like unicorns?”
“No,” the Beast chuckled again. “Unicorns are much more sensitive to such things than Dragons, and I might add, much pickier. Think of it as having a calming influence on us. Since no one likes big angry serpents that’s bristling with claws, fangs, and spikes, that's a good thing.”
“Just how large are you?” He asked, still looking for his opponent. Whether or not his King was hedging his bets, he had still pledged to complete this quest. For that matter by its own admission the monster was an invader. Either he or it must die.
“You can’t be that big given the opening of that cave.” The Knight added trying to prod the beast into showing itself.
“What? Still no reaction that you’re much different within your heart than your outward appearance would suggest?” The beast riposted. “As for my size, we dragons are adept at squeezing into tight places.”
The slowly burning off fog was beginning to let the raising sun peer though. Carefully the Knight placed the warming rays at his back seeking any advantage he could get.
Then a huge, icy, dark shadow flew over him and his faithful steed.
Nothing in his experience prepared him for the pure magnitude of its dimensions. If anything, the other accounts fell short of the reality. Each of its wings could’ve served as the roof of a good sized cottage while the body from muzzle to the tip of its flared tail had to be at least 60 feet. Those fanged jaws were big enough to close about both him and his warhorse even though his mount stood at a good 16 hands.
Somehow he kept a curse from his lips. A hopeless inner voice reminded him that he’d been wise to visit the priest in the last village they passed thought. His Confession was said, and his affairs were in order. Staring up at the death above him, the Knight saw his doom.
“Ah! Now the blind begins to see! Dragons are nocturnal. I was winging my way back home when I observed you trespassing.” The soaring Beast chuckled.
“Why don’t you come down here, and we can discuss whether or not I’m intruding,” he replied. Looking Death in the eye, it surprised him how much he wanted to live. However, strangely at the same there was a kind of peace. Soon that endless discomfort that’d long ago turned into pain would be gone. The two extremes gave him a feeling of edgy and dangerous power, he longed to unleash upon this foe.
“How about I don’t.” The Dragon said, shooting a ball of fire from its toothy maw.
Long training let him and his charger move as one, dodging the flaming missile. It exploded as it impacted throwing up grouts of smoking sod that rained back down. Trained for battle yes, but nothing like this as the Beast spat more fire down upon them. Twisting madly, they avoided each strike. However finally, panicked by the most primeval of all fears, fire, as well as burned and scorched by all the near misses, his mount reared up. In spite of the high canted saddle and literally growing up on horse back, he was thrown.
His very senses shattered as the earth slammed into him. The weight of the armor and his weapons turned him into a heavy projectile that hammered a deep gash into the rich soil of the vale. Ignoring his ringing head, he began the awkward task of getting back to his feet while in full armor. This was a critical moment where a knight’s protection became his bane making him vulnerable to even the lowest born commoner with a knife. Not that it matter much against this opponent.
Staggering to his feet, among the small fires burning around him, he saw his terrified charger fleeing the vale. Discarding his helm so he could better see his foe, he spat trying to clear his mouth of bile that had risen up from his injury.
Fighting the dizziness, he drew his sword.
“Fight me!” He shouted up at the flying beast.
“No,” was the Dragon’s curt reply.
Blinking desperately attempting to clear his blurred vision, he shouted again, “Fight me!”
“So eager to die for someone so unworthy of your respect, but perhaps I have a solution.” The Beast said.
Blurrily, he could make out the Dragon landing and slipping inside its lair. Resolutely, he began his advance. What would’ve taken only seconds upon his charger took him, impeded by armor and his injury, much longer. He nearly stumbled and fell a handful of times, but his will was strong. Maybe this battle was still as hopeless as it had begun, but at least the Beast was on the ground now.
And honor, there was always the family’s honor to be kept. Honor to be proud of and yet hung around one’s neck dragging you down. Traditions that were to be treasured which only cared about what others thought and nothing of what was in the heart. No matter they lead down the path to an early grave. Always and forever there was honor.
Lurching unsteadily, his boots crushed the flowers unlikely growing before the monster’s lair. Taking a deep breath, the knight marshaled his strength standing on guard with his weapon at the ready. The sword had been in his family for generations after being bestowed by the King himself on an ancestor whose bravery on the battlefield had resulted in his being risen to the nobility.
The old blade made for a monarch was still sound and sharp as a razor, which was a good thing. His noble, but financially struggling family could never afford to outfit him with a sword otherwise sole child or not.
He wanted to laugh. All their talk of the family’s honor and traditions, but it seemed the line would end with him. He would die as a knight should.
“Ah! There it is!” The Beast exclaimed from within its lair.
The huge draconic head studded with horns and spikes stuck itself outside the cave, but unfortunately the Beast was still too far away for the Knight to strike. Wavering on his feet, he held his guard.
“My, aren’t you the stubborn one!” The Dragon chuckled. “Still eager to die are you?”
“No,” the Knight replied, “If you would just place your head right here, I’ll make this as painless as possible.”
“Look at you,” the Dragon laughed. “You can barely stand and yet you continue your bravado.”
He and the Beast locked eyes for a long moment.
It gave a long sigh sending smoke from its nostrils. “I hate to tell you this, but suicide by dragon is still suicide and by your beliefs a sin. However, I will make a deal with you.”
It threw something, his still hazy eyes couldn’t quite focus on, at his feet.
“Put this on, and if you still feel the same way afterward, I’ll fight you as you wish. I’ll even see that your remains are buried in sacred ground. What say you?” The Beast asked.
There before him was a knight’s girdle, a wide tooled leather belt used to hold weapons. Even his fuzzy vision could see this one was extremely well-crafted and would be very much beyond his usual financial means.
Their eyes met again, but it was he who looked away first. After all, the Beast held, very literally, the high ground. The advantages were all its. It was only a girdle so what was the harm?
Sighing, he reached for the girdle. He could hear the voices of his ancestors berating his weakness for having to use the family’s heirloom to help him kneel without falling.
Picking up the girdle, he tried to stand, but it soon became clear that wouldn’t be happening. Sighing, the Knight let himself fall to his knees. Unbuckling his own girdle, he let it fall to the ground still holding tight to his sword to keep from falling over. Awkwardly, he slung the Dragon’s offering around his waist one handed, but hesitated before buckling it. Could it be cursed or have some other evil magic cast upon it? He decided it didn’t matter as long as the Beast kept his word. The dead had few worries.
He clinched the belt tight, hearing the metal prong snap closed on the buckle.
Meaning to immediately demand the Beast deliver its promise, his voice was stolen by the sudden heat that enveloped him. At first it was only uncomfortable, but searing fire inside his head burned away any words. His last sight was the monster curiously looking down at him, his vision strangely clear again just before everything turned dark.
He awoke oddly rested considering his last conscious thought. Past experience told him that his head should be splitting from a headache after taking such a bad fall. Contrarily, he actually felt good.
Then he tried to move. That’s when he began to suspect something, well, maybe not was wrong, but was different. A questing hand told the Knight he was still armored, but again something was off. It was hard to tell just what given the clumsiness of his gauntlets.
Deciding to be cautious, he investigated his surroundings. For one he was on a real bed with a frame and mattress. Perhaps not a fine one like the upper nobility would have, but one much like he had growing up, stuffed with something else other than straw that was all most commoners had. The wood work of the headboard was well crafted if not overly elaborate.
In the same style, a pair of nightstands was on either side of the bed. A pitcher of water sat upon one along with a cup on one, while a plate with a rough loaf of bread and cheese were on the other.
Looking further away, he realized he wasn’t in a room at all. The bed was sitting in the middle of a large domed chamber. The wall had hundreds of nooks cut into it that all kinds of objects setting within them. That was the strange part. They weren’t works of art as one would expect although some were. Sitting right next to a finely made goblet was just as carefully displayed was a set of wooden dinner plates such as most humble family of the kingdom would use. There wasn’t any rhythm or reason to it all although the general theme appeared to be items that people used in everyday activities like eating, cooking, and other such. The Knight could see other cambers beyond the one he was in and they all appeared to have these nooks.
This had to be the dragon’s lair, but he was certain the hill the beast had excavated couldn’t hold one cave of this size much less all these other caverns. Pulling himself up and slinging his legs off the side of the bed, he felt awkward and off balance. It reminded him of the awkwardness of adjusting to a set of unaccustomed armor.
However that shifting on his chest was definitely not mail settling into place. That’s when he saw the framed mirror set into one of the lower alcoves. He got another surprise at how far he had to slide forward before his feet touched the floor. Walking gracelessly, but carefully to the mirror, he discovered the cause of his problem.
While his armor’s bulk and padding might’ve disguised it from his curious hands, the mirror however told him the truth. Or perhaps told her the truth would be more accurate.
The image in front of her was unmistakably a woman’s.
Even her armor had been altered in such a way to make it plain to anyone with eyes that the wearer was a she. It was much more form-following, and the once crudely dyed linen surcoat was now a brilliant soft silk. It didn’t quiet look like something a frivolous noblewoman might come up with to put on pretensions of being a warrior, but it was close. So much so she doubted that the once sturdy armor still provided the same protection. There were just too many small feminine touches for it to belong to even the most vain of knights. And that was saying something considering some of the self-important peacocks he’d meet.
“Magic,” she breathed.
“Indeed,” Rumbled the voice of the Dragon. “That girdle was crafted by the great Elven mage-smith Erlond.
Turning the Knight saw the Dragon entering the hall of notches.
“What have you done to me,” she asked, feeling floatingly disconnected as a leaf caught within an eddy in a stream.
“You wanted to die, so I gave you a reason to live.” The Beast said plainly.
“How?” Her reflection drew her attention again. She couldn’t seem to look away.
“As I was saying,” He harrumphed. “Your girdle was made by Erlond. It is perhaps his greatest and yet most terrible work.”
“How can it be both great and terrible at the same time,” she interrupted.
“If you allow me to continue, I shall enlighten you.” A huge draconic eye glared at her.
Strangely it seemed to have no power over her. Perhaps it was still shock at her finding herself altered beyond all possible belief. Numbly she nodded her assent.
“Thank you,” He said dryly. “Erlond was one of the world’s most skill mage-smiths. His works graced kings and queens across the land. One day a knight who wasn’t too unlike the bones of the fools lying outside, came to him.
“This idiot of a knight demanded the mage-smith construct him an item that would give him the strength of ten, so he would be stronger than any other man.
“Erlond refused for he was as much an artist as a smith. His creations often emphasized or embellished characteristics of their destined owners. He refused to spend his time and energies upon such a project that was motivated only by greed and the lust for power.
To compound his stupidity, the knight kidnapped the great craftsman's daughter to force the issue. Because Erlond loved his child, he capitulated and forged the very girdle you now wear.
A haughty high-born fool, once he had what he wanted, he raped the poor girl and dumped her in front of her father’s workshop.
Elves mature much more slowly than humans. She was little more than a child. Heartbroken and filled with a horrible rage, Erlond went back to his forge. Within he had everything he needed to build a link to his most recent creation. Using all of his years of experience, he distilled all of his anger and rage into one single black drop. Then he flung it down the spell forged link at the arrogant fool who was riding back to the human lands. The idiot truly believed that he would not be held accountable for his actions. Not only was it only a craftsman, but it wasn’t even human.
“He learned differently,” The Dragon nodded his head at the girdle.
“I know part of what this curse entails.” She asked, inclining her head at the mirror. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to fill in the details?”
“But of course I would.” The Beast chuckled again. “I’m trying to give you a reason to live after all, not end up like the first who wore that belt you bear.”
“I take it, his life didn’t end well?” She thought of her own past torments and of how they dragged her down into desperation.
“No,” The Dragon replied. “It did not. Changed and altered so much that she was unrecognizable, no, she did not take it well. The girdle still gave her the strength of ten, but women not men. Even that was much greater than any single warrior or many beasts. However, a condition of the curse had it failing her when she needed it the most, during her moon time.
“As you can tell from your own armor, her appearance was enhanced.” Her host pointed out. “As an artist Erlond deliberately put his blackmailer's vanity on display. As a male, the moron reveled in his more attractive appearance and how the enchantments changed his clothing to further feed his narcissism. However, after the curse struck, that very same vanity proved lethal.
“Perhaps it was only retribution and not justice, but it did not take long for her to fall to those who were much like the man she’d been. Ironically, those who preyed upon her also fell victim to the curse when they unknowingly claimed the girdle for their own. I have no idea of how many other predators of that ilk experienced the same horror as the women they killed. Maybe it was poetic justice after all.
“Eventually even the thickest headed human realized the girdle was cursed. Seers and scribes weaseled out the story behind its making. Then followed times where owning it was a status symbol while during others it was used as a weapon against men who’d never wronged anyone at all.
“That was how it came into my possession.” The Dragon lectured. “The last owner found me while searching for some way to break the curse. Her only crime was to have fallen in love with the daughter of a vindictive and powerful man. After finding out the two young lovers planned to elope, he arranged for would be groom to be incapacitated.
"Gloating, he fastened the girdle about his daughter’s paramour himself. Unfortunately, the nature of the curse had overshadowed the original intent of the commission, to make the bearer invincible in battle. Shocked, the now young woman threw off her shackles and rescued her lover.
"Tragically, they loved each other true, but due to their own natures, the curse prevented them from expressing their feelings for each other as lovers. The two traveled far searching vainly for someway to break the curse. Yes, even into the lair of a Dragon.
“If I could have helped, I would have.” The Dagon sighed. “Erlond himself had passed into the worlds beyond, but perhaps he is the only one who could’ve destroyed what he created.”
“There are greater powers in the world.” The Beast explained. “But none approached the level of Erlond in his chosen trade. It is my belief that only a God would truly be able to break it. However such beings have their own agendas that also would’ve separated the two. To the end of their lives, they stayed close friends.”
“On her deathbed, she willed the girdle to me after I promised it would never again be used to harm another.” He bowed his head.
“Just how does tricking me into being the next victim of this curse fits into your promise? The Knight asked still unable to take her eyes from the image before her.
“Don’t lie to yourself.” The Dragon replied sternly. “I know that by accident of birth you experienced your own version of the girdle’s curse. The two has canceled each other out, and for the first time in your life, you’re free of that blight."
"So tell me." The Beast asked, "Is the girdle a curse or a cure?"
"I don't want to fight you at this time," she stiffly replied not answering his question. "However, I do still hold you to your promise. Time is required for me to become accustomed to my new circumstances."
"As you wish," The Dragon smiled if that was possible for such a creature.
"Now tell me if I can get out of this thing or am I going to be stuck in armor for the rest of my life?" She almost let a smile of her own slip by.
Six months later.
She watched the latest knight errant ride off, his bare bottom visible in the moonlight.
"You know Beast," she said to her companion next to her. "I thought we were going to be forced to kill him. The fool would not be scared off."
"Indeed," he replied. "Kind of reminded me of someone else I know."
She sniffed, not dignifying his remark with an answer. The moon above was icy bright as only a frigid winter's night could make it. Even her fur lined cloak and winter weight dress could keep the chill from reaching her. Like everything she wore, the girdle had transformed it and itself into matching accessories highlighting her feminine beauty.
A long moment of silence passed as they enjoyed the evening.
"You know, you can leave anytime you like. I have more than enough gold to allow you to live in luxury anywhere you like." He remarked trying to be casual.
"Still trying to get out of your promise, are you?" She replied, but he could hear the humor.
"I'm content right where I am. Besides someone has to look after the place since you chased off everyone. There are the cattle, chickens and all the other livestock to look after. This isn't too different from what I grew up with so it's not a problem.
"Moreover who ever heard of a dragon willingly giving up part of his hoard? Who knows what would happen and what it would do to your reputation. Besides most of what you own is cursed or spelled anyways. Leave it to me to find the one dragon in the whole world that has a fetish for curses." She pulled her cloak in tighter against the cold.
"Not all of them are cursed." He defended his belongings. "I'm fascinated by the strong emotions can be imparted into even everyday things. Not all come from tragedy like your girdle. Think of that set of humble wooden dishes that makes all the food placed upon them more filling and tastier, all because of the love and care of an outwardly unremarkable woman cooking for her family." The Dragon pointed out. "In any case, I have more than enough ordinary gold to suffice for your needs, and no, I'm not worried about my reputation."
Silence was her only answer.
"You're not going to admit you're happy now, and have no intentions of making me fulfill my promise for us to fight are you?" He sighed, his steaming breath creating a small fog bank.
"And I've told you before, I'll let you know when I'm ready." She turned towards the abandoned cottage she'd taken for her own. "Since you're too big to fit within, I must bid you good night. It's cold out and there's a warm fire within."
"Goodnight, Lady Knight." He said rousing himself.
"Goodnight to you too, Beast," she said softly to the night.
Three years later.
"So how many times does that make it now that I've been rescued from you now?" She shook her head at the unconscious lout sprawled on the ground.
"I'm not certain," The Dragon replied watching the horses and prospective dinner run off. "Does the one who doused you with the love philter counts? You did kind of run off with him."
"Oh please!" The Knight exclaimed. "Don't remind me. At least I had enough sense left to follow him back to your lair. I know you say no mere human can slay you, but with all the magic he was toting, I wouldn't have bet against him."
"As you say Lady Knight," he chuckled. "But we will never know will we? After you got finished braining him, I think he still needs help dressing in the morning."
"He had it coming." She dusted herself off. "I can't think of anyone who deserved the title of knight less. I mean, using a love potion. So no, I don't think that one counts. He wasn't trying to rescue anyone."
It went unsaid between them about what was the only thing that could break such a spell.
"Well, in that case, seven," The Dragon said, still looking longingly at the fleeing horses.
"Well, go on." The Knight said. "I know you're hungry since the King sold off your tithing to pay for this idiot to kill you. Just don't eat the warhorse or all the pack animals, and don't let me see either. I'm still partial to horses."
"I really don't get the difference." He said, spreading his wings. "Both horses and cows have hoofs and eat grass. Why does it make such a difference?"
"Because, humans can ride horses, and cows aren't good for anything but milk, leather, and meat." She said annoyed because they'd this conversation before. Then she began sorting though the all the stolen goods from the Beast's lair so it could be taken back. With his obsession with magical and cursed things, you really had to be careful.
"You know there is enough here that you could keep going into the next town and live well." He said, after a pause.
Crossly she looked up at his toothed maw.
"Will you just go?" She dug though the pile disheveled by the fight. "It's going to be night before we're able to get back to the vale. And don't forget to not to eat all the horses. We're going to need them."
He watched her sorting though the loads. Then shaking his horned head, the dragon's wings lifted him into the sky.
Feeling the blustery winds of his departure, she turned and watched him fly away into the distance. A tear ran down her cheek. Wiping it on her cuff, she went back to her labor.
Silly Dragons.
Two years further.
"There!" She yelled over the roar of wind and battle.
Wheeling about, the soaring dragon let loose a ball of fire that sent the last of the supply wagons up into flames.
Holding tight to the leather harness, the Knight saw the world tilt as the Dragon carried her skyward.
"I don't think he'll do that again," She leaned over and hollered so he could hear her. "Without supplies and the army's train in flames, I think this battle is over."
"I'm honestly surprised he waited this long to try sending an army." The Beast rumbled beneath her, "Then again maybe not. Armies cost money, and he is nothing if not greedy. Still it was stupid of him to think he could move all of those men quickly and quietly enough so I wouldn't notice."
"You're are, but one and they are many." She pointed out, knuckles turning white as he banked into another turn. "You do have to sleep sometime, but I don't think he was expecting those other, err, creatures."
"What!" He exclaimed, humorously. "You thought perhaps I hunted down and killed all the others you humans called monsters. I promised to keep this kingdom safe from them. I'm sure you've noticed that I don't eat all of the cattle from the tithe. Some go to feed the others. After all we don't all fill the same predatory niche."
She thumped him with her armored gauntlet.
"Of course I've noticed. I'm the one who manages the livestock, remember. I simply didn't know what you were doing with the ones you weren't personally taking care of. After all you've never introduced me to any of the 'other' monsters." Her stomach fell, as they suddenly climbed even higher into the blue. Down below them the fleeing army looked like so many toy soldiers.
"That probably wouldn't be a good idea." The Dragon laughed. "Some of them aren't as picky as I am about if their food talks."
"If they think I'm dinner, that's the last thought they'll ever have." The Knight promised.
"Indeed!" He laughed.
"You know you can see all the way to the sea from up here." The Dragon pointed out. "It would take only a few hours to reach it."
"Stop," she demanded. "I have no intentions of going anywhere, and don't think for a moment I've forgotten about the promise you made. Please take me home now."
Silence followed them back to the vale. Dismounting, she removed the harness slinging it into the barn with the rest of the tack. Still wordless the Knight left him there as she went to her cottage to bathe and change.
Hours later, she raised an eyebrow at the ringing of the bell the Dragon had placed outside years before to serve as a door knocker. Opening the door, a tall man stood there who was simply dressed.
"It's about time." She said taking his hand and leading him within.
His startled expression made her giggle.
"How do you know I'm not a deserter from that army or someone else wanting to rescue you?" The man asked, as she pulled him inside.
"A woman knows." She said, closing the door behind them.
20 years yet later.
She sat by the lake watching the sun set. By her side the Beast in his natural form sunned himself in the last rays. In the distance, cow bells rang as a pair of their adopted children drove their bovine charges home. The children were orphans, she and the Dragon had given them, among others, a home here in their vale.
A sigh escaped her. Despite how the curse kept her fit and of course attractive, there were gray among her brunette locks. It seemed even curses were helpless before the power of time.
Her companion wisely stayed silent as the sky faded to oranges and reds turning the few clouds to purple. As the evening star began to shine, a man walked up putting his arms around her.
She sighed again, but this time in pleasure enjoying his embrace. He'd waited until dark before transforming no doubt to conceal the difference in their apparent ages. She remembered all too well of how a hundred years were just a hand span to his kind. Refusing to think what it meant for a mere human cursed or not, she kissed him gently.
As if on cue, the bell rang letting all know it was time for supper. Together they both laughed. Taking his hand, she led him to the family they'd made.
25 more years.
She opened her eyes and smiled seeing him there. His human form still looked as young and vital as he had when he'd first came to her door some 40 years ago. His smile in return warmed her as it always did although it no longer caused her to burn with desire. Time had taken care of that.
The curse helped make her as beautiful as it was possible for an old woman to look, but she was still old. She'd taken her last fall, but this time she wouldn't be getting back up. This was her death bed.
He took a lock of her silvered hair and bought to his lips.
Touching his face, she understood only too well the hurt that was coming for him. She loved him so much it hurt, her Beast. How much more it hurt him seeing time so quickly overpower her, she couldn't imagine.
From the other room, she heard her children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren lingering after they said their final goodbyes to her. However as matriarch of the family she'd made plainly known who her last moments had to be with.
They still had business the two of them.
"It's time Dragon," she said her voice barely a whisper.
"Time?" He asked, denying the truth.
"For your promise to be fulfilled," the Knight answered. "I do hope you haven't forgotten. You said you would fight me if I put on this girdle." Her fingers traced the fine silk belt it'd transformed itself into to match her night grown.
"You would ask that of me, now?" His disbelief made her smile again.
"Can you think of a better time?" She countered looking into his amber eyes.
His gentle hands upon hers spoke of his oncoming heartbreak, as he shook his head either in denial or confusion.
"I do have a request," The Knight continued fighting with the last of her strength. "After I'm gone, please take the girdle once more and make certain it's not used for evil. However, if you find another like me in need of the healing it can bring…" Her voice trailed off.
Her fading sight saw a Dragon's Tear tickling down his cheek.
"Have at thee, Beast." Her final words were lost in his cry as he held his Lady Knight to him.
"That night it is said a mighty roar echoed across the entire kingdom. A tower of fire lit up the whole sky as all beheld the grief of a Dragon." The storyteller smiled watching the apt faces of his young listeners.
One child more precocious than the rest stared at tale teller. He had to know if this was just a story or if there was any truth to it. His stark need overcame his shyness.
"If this girdle was so infamous why haven't any of us ever heard of it?" He asked his young face distorted as he thought. "You talk of events that all should remember, but yet none of us know of this vale or of fires in the sky."
Reaching out, the storyteller tenderly touched the child's face.
The youngster's eyes grew wide as for just a moment the teller of tales own eyes flashed amber. Startled, he glanced at his fellow listeners, but none of them seemed to see it.
Winking at him, the storyteller's smile grew into a grin.
"Indeed! But, that is a tale for another time."
My hair streamed behind me and my gossamer wings fluttered in the slipstream as I hitched a flight from Bahadur Azi Dahaka, dragon warrior of the Mountains of the Summer Snows.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is unintentional. Transgender themes and other mature themes are included within. If you would be offended by these, please don’t continue! I, the author, reserve the right repost this work As always, I am very aware of the wonderful group of proofers that take my rough-hewn ideas and sand it smooth, turning it into a readable story, thank you Hope, Janet, and Paula. Special thanks to Holly who although she was very busy took the time to look over this for me. There may still be errors in the following but they are mine as I am still learning how to send and receive documents in different formats.
My hair streamed behind me and my gossamer wings fluttered in the slipstream as I hitched a flight from Bahadur Azi Dahaka, dragon warrior of the Mountains of the Summer Snows. Perched precariously on the snout of my huge scaly companion, I squealed in delight as he playfully rolled on to his back as he dove though the clouds beneath us towards the forest of Baron Gillespie.
I could feel Azi’s rumble of delight as he left vapor trail vortices in his wake. I felt the tingles when he invoked a spell and his velocity suddenly doubled. Needless to say, all the stimuli were delightfully pleasant on various areas of my fairy avatar.
Working my VeMotion display, I zoomed out from first person to the “chase view.” Using my input gloves, I selected properties to save the sequence for my desktop and screensaver. Another deft movement and I was back in first person as Azi pulled some healthy Gs (G-forces/ acceleration from gravity) as he flashed over the treetops.
God! I love flying! The baron’s eagle riders quickly grew from specks to armed warriors as Azi demonstrated that as fearsome as they were; a match for him, they were not. It was his way of keeping the uneasy truce between the baron’s riders and himself. If it came down to a fight, he wanted them rattled, knowing they would be facing a fearsome opponent.
Blinking urgently in the corner of my visor was a not so subtle sign the rest of my fellow adventurers was growing impatient. Smeg! Can’t they just let a girl and her dragon have a little fun?
Noting that Bob, our multi-talented producer, hadn’t sent out his “Hey let’s move along” prompt, meant that he was still getting some great set up scenes for our web-cast. We were very lucky to have Bob as our producer, director, and everything else guy.
He had a very real gift with computers and the AM’s (Artificial Morons) which let him pull live sequences from my fellow players as we played “Dragon’s Gate: At Swords Point” MMOG (Multi-Player Massive On-line Game). AM’s had made computing easier, but the super-smart AI (Artificial Intelligences) from science-fiction was still a dream.
Don’t get me wrong! AM’s are great because they can follow verbal directions, but idiot savants are still idiots! It takes a special person to act as a conductor for a group of AM’s and Bob, as our ratings proved, was one of the best in the business, for all that he had been an unknown before we managed to find him.
I was tempted to continue “hogging” the spotlight, but Azi was already winging it back to meet the rest of the guys. Sighing, I reflected that my scaly friend had a better sense of preserving the peace among our party than I.
Oh, our avatars? Well in the old days they were just generic looking figures called sprites by programmers. With the increase of processing power and by using motion mapping programs somewhat like those used by the movie “Polar Express,” an advanced web-camera can make your game character seem to speak and have facial expressions. This advancement made playing a lot more fun, and also made it a lot more interesting to watch.
With the sponsorship of the company and other advertisers, we could afford to have our tech guru, Bob, design graphics for our sprites that specialized our avatars for us, making us even more one of a kind than the customizing program that came with the “Dragon’s Gate” game.
Dwarfing everyone else Balthazar, the half-ogre paladin to the God of War, sat astride his mammoth dire-horn mount. The huge unicorn-like dire-horn, with its ivory plates trimmed and polished, gleamed in disparity with the paladin’s lacquered blood red Gothic armor.
Lastly, there’s me! Crystal the extraordinary! Fairy sorceress, spy, and friend of dragons, but right now, rebel against Duke Ironforge. Standing only a foot high, I am a mistress of magic, and an agent of the Lost Prince Charlie. Outfitted in enchanted silks from far Cathay and bearing a sliver of the broken enchanted Sword of Kings, re-forged by dragon’s fire into a blade fit for my hand, called “Fang,” I am a formidable foe in spite of my stature.
If you think that our group sounds a little “over the top” you’ll be right! That’s what has made “Dragon’s Gate” one of the most popular MMOG on the web.
Officially, it would be Balthazar who would sign the treaty in the name of the Lost Prince, but Azi and I were the ones who made it happen. Well maybe “forgetful” might the better title for the prince, since Duke Ironforge’d had his court wizard cast a spell of forgetfulness on the young prince when he overthrew the king.
Wanting to keep the prince “on ice”, as it were, harmless but near at hand, the duke had used him as a stable boy at one of his estates. However, fate intervened and the lost prince recovered his memory thanks to a certain fairy sorceress. Hey, it makes a better story and sells more expansions, (Game Expansion Modules), raising the price of the stock for the stockholders!
The twist here was, as spy-mistress, I knew the baron had also been entertaining representatives of the duke. The possibility of betrayal was high, and all of us had enemies who would cheerful collect the high bounties on our heads, for our heads!
At first, all was going well until our dear ranger fired an arrow into the baron’s captain of guards. I don’t know how Galidor got his hands on that smegging bow and all of the enchantments on it, but it never misses. Why game administration lets him keep it, is beyond me. Just because I’ve heard similar complaints about my “Fang”, is beside the point.
Bare steel was drawn and to quote the Bard, ‘Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!’ Balthazar’s black blade left a trail of gore behind him, while Azi and Danar dueled with the baron’s eagle riders with fire and steel above. Rain sang lightning bolts from the suddenly stormy skies, causing much chaos among the metal clad knights.
Galidor’s bow sang as soldier after soldier fell to his deadly aim, and I drew my saber patterned “Fang.” Flying in a mad charge into the makeshift formation of soldiers, I slashed though their armor as if it was naught but cloth. Soon, what had been a defensive formation fell apart, as they tried to defend themselves from my wickedly dangerous little “Fang.”
The baron’s shattered forces retreated, dragging the wounded guard captain behind them, while above the eagle riders flew for their lives from Rain’s storm as well as away from Azi and Darius.
I don’t believe that treachery had been intended, because if it was, the baron would have been better prepared against foes of our caliber. We have enemies that would have paid him for a chance at us. Apolla, the golden dragon for one, has a standing offer of a ton of gold bullion for Azi’s and my hides. Who would’ve thought that she would have taken the loss of her hoard so personally?
As high level as we are, the baron had no chance against us with the forces he had arrayed against us here. What sucked, was the long term consequences of what Galidor did by breaking the truce. The odds of our getting cooperation from the other nobles were now practically nil.
It didn’t help that Galidor annoyed the crap out me! Whoever his player was, had milked the rules for every advantage he could find and then made up some new ones. Everyone wants to have a smegging powerful character, but please, some restraint! On top of that, he must have Attention Deficient Syndrome, because if he doesn’t have something to do, Galidor starts something, usually trouble.
I don’t care if his polls with viewers say he is almost as popular as Azi and I! We had worked hard for this alliance, and now it, along with a good part of the baron’s troops, lay bleeding on the ground!
It’s just as well I don’t know who was playing Galidor, because if I did, I would do something he would regret. Alas, like MMOGs from the past like Worlds of Warcraft and Everquest, I had no idea who he was, or even if Galidor was a he.
The advent of newer technology allowed higher bandwidths, making games like Dragon’s Gate with inductors possible, which overshadowed the older games. Inductors? Where have you people been?
Ok, inductors are electronic “pads,” usually attached to video-glasses on your temples, that let you feel sensations from the game, a little like those force-back devices from the old days that would shake and rattle in reaction to game situations. High end ones like mine will even let you smell and taste, along with touch.
The intensity of the experience is very low and even violent blows feels like you are just being touched firmly. There is only so much sensation the pads can safely generate. For more, you need to have interface implants that, while they aren’t experimental anymore, take some serious moolah. They can make you feel full sensory feedback, but of course they have all sorts of safety thresholds. I mean, who wants to become a “wire-head”, addicted to a button for pleasure?
Together with the new technology, Dragons Gate was about as close as you could come to the old concept of Virtual Reality. It had a huge following and this hadn’t escaped big business. There was money to be made, and what started life off as innocent as a web-‘cast just for fun soon attracted advertisers and sponsors. Like all such efforts, some were hilarious because they were trying to be serious, while others were actually pretty smegging good.
Big stars we weren’t by any means, but the extra bucks from our sponsors and promotional gimmicks help keep my equipment first rate with the latest game expansions, and let me put some aside as well.
I suppose I could have hit the professional gamers' circuit pioneered by legends like Faltil1ty and Lee Ji-Hun, but this way I get to keep my anonymity.
You see, Crystal, my fairy folk character, is very obviously female and I am not. Nope, born male and pardon to all the gents out there, not very happy about it.
It wasn’t till I started playing female characters that I noticed how much happier and relaxed I was portraying myself as a woman. It didn’t happen overnight but eventually I came to accept that Mrs. Smith’s little boy would rather be Mrs. Smith’s little girl.
However Mrs. Smith, my mom, wasn’t so thrilled with the news and the rest of my family didn’t deal with it very well either. Along with my love of flying, it made me a pariah. Everyone else in my family has this horrid fear of heights and why I was different, I can’t begin to tell you. Maybe it was looking up out of my window at night at the dustings of stars and imagining the freedom of being among them.
That was one reason, among many, that prompted my move from my birthplace in the Deep South to sunny California. If you want to know more, look it up on the web under transgender. We have a lot of other stuff to cover.
Needless to say, I really didn’t want every Tom, Dick, and Harriet to rub my nose in my uniqueness, not yet, anyways. That’s why a part of every check goes to my special account reserved for my nanotech transformation.
Yep, Nano-technology the miracle machines of science fiction. The very tiny robots called nanites, or nanos for short, can take apart and build things at the cellular level or even smaller. Billions of them working together can change the world, accomplishing projects that would take us weeks or months, in just a few hours.
I mean, sure, Sri Lanka had scared the smeg out of everyone. The whole world, courtesy of CNN, watched the nano-plague the press called the “Devourer” spread across the Asian island. But nanites are a genie that can’t be stuffed back into its bottle.
Watching it, many doomsday pessimists warned of the tiny machines tearing everything apart and building more of themselves in a kind of perpetual motion machine that would result in what they called the Gray Ooze prophecy, leaving Earth as a lifeless ball of nanites continually eating each other.
Well that didn’t happen. It twisted, half-melted and warped everything it touched, so mostly it was just a horrible way to die. I do mean everything, too, from the rocks to the tops of the trees and all in between. Barely a half-percent of the population survived, most with crippling injuries and a very few with astounding talents.
India and Pakistan both had nuclear weapons, and a blind woman could see that fear was pushing them into using them to “cleanse” Sri Lanka before the “Devourer” got into the Indian Ocean biosphere. Knowing that the weapons India and Pakistan had were of the “dirty” variety, the Western World, led by the United States, volunteered to use the cleanest possible “devices” they had to do the job.
I know, in afterthought, everyone is always saying that we didn’t have to use the nukes. After all, a blast of high-magnetism would have done the job just as well, but when the whole world was scared shitless, you figure the odds.
Today’s nano docs can do a lot more than the old surgical procedures could even dream. Still, there are limits to what they can do. While they can build a womb, and uterus, they can’t make eggs. I will be able to bear children but will need have to have an egg donor, and it’ll need to be implanted. Sold!
What hasn’t changed from the traditional procedures, is the cost. I needed every penny I could scrounge, and that meant working a “day” job and my moonlighting hobby of web-casting. California is a lot more tolerant than where I grew up, but after considering how my family reacted, I decided why chance it?
***
I was reading Bob’s notes as they scrolled across the bottom of my vision in the chat box. “Hello, Beautiful, don’t chew up Galidor too badly because we need him for Wednesday’s ‘cast.”
Like a good girl, I promised Bob that I wouldn’t bitch too much at our ranger. He just knew me too well, sometimes.
That didn’t stop me from starting an angry chat with Galidor about his uncalled for attack on the baron’s captain. I know that Bob had good reasons for wanting him in the ‘cast but I’d worked hard on that treaty!
I signed off in the middle of his reply. Hey, I know I was being a bitch, but I do it so well! Not only that, but some of us have to work mornings, and I need to have my five hours of sleep to fake being awake. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Silicon Valley has grown and shrunk in cycles, and now, with nanotech taking off and stocks doubling every couple months, the valley was once more booming. With the astronomical costs of living in the valley, I was renting a trailer that at least gave a little privacy.
I bet you’re waiting for me to tell you that I’m a programmer, or a developer of some sort. No such luck, jokers. I work in a warehouse in inventory control. I walk around all day long with my handheld computer tracker, double check orders and inventory. If I see a trend of items getting depleted that the computers missed I forward it up to the front office. Really exciting? No. Does it pay the bills? Yes. Can be done while half-asleep? You betcha!
“Hey, Tex,” shouted one of my co-workers, Frank. One of my burdens of being from the Deep South and living in California was if you have a southern drawl, somehow that means you’re from Texas. Frank started working here a few months ago after leaving the Navy, and once he discovered that I played Dragon’s Gate, he decided that made us buddies or something. I don’t know which is worse, him badgering me to reveal my avatar’s name to him, or his unknowing critiques of my performance in the ‘cast.
Now, I’m not about to tell him any of that, so I’m left with biting my tongue. Add to it that he is always going on about how “HOT” the chick playing Crystal must be, and it just gets to be too much sometimes, sister!
So how popular is Dragon’s Gate? Back in the old days when the expansion “Burning Crusade” for Worlds of Warcraft came out, it broke all sorts of records for PC (Personnel Computer) games sold and for the number of people who missed work the next day.
When “At Swords Point,” the expansion for Dragon’s Gate, was released it broke all of those records. I’m not saying everyone plays, but here in the valley, the day after the release it looked like someone had declared a holiday.
“Tex, Galidor the Elf Lord says he’s going to reveal Crystal the fairy’s real identity on tomorrow’s web-cast,” Frank told me while I sat in the employee break room enjoying a cold soda.
“What!?” I choked out spraying soda all over myself.
Fortunately, Frank was clueless at the real reason for my distress, or he would’ve seen all the blood draining from my face in shock.
Enjoying my discomfort, he went on. “On the forums this morning, Galidor posted, that he didn’t have to put up with her little tantrums. He said that he’d been a secret admirer for sometime, but her bitching at him last night was enough.”
Leaving Frank gloating at causing me to make a mess, I went into the restroom to clean up and above all hide the shakes. I was more than a little upset at the possibility of being “outed”. It was possible I could loose my job here, and my ratings for the ‘cast could drop. “Crystal’s adventures” was my big money maker, and that ass Galidor could cause me to get booted from that, too, if the sponsors complained.
Splashing water on my face, I did my best to compose myself and face more of Frank’s excuse for humor. I bet someone is saying ‘hey, it’s just a game, right?’ Let me tell you that back in the nineties, when people started killing each other over “items” that existed only in make-believe games, everyone thought that was strange.
With more people playing and socializing on-line. on-line connected crimes became even more common. Yes, there had even been murders when some lunatic couldn’t take it that their dream-lover didn’t match the reality. So here is Galidor, who says he’s a secret admirer and he’s going to “out” me? Crap!
The rest of the day sucked, because along with being short of sleep, now I was so nervous I could barely function. Once I got home, I emailed Bob about Galidor’s threat, and doubled checked my intrusion software to make sure it hadn’t been breached. My security looked good, but I upgraded my firewall anyways.
With that done, I contracted Azi by chat and unloaded the day’s problems onto him. He, being the good friend he had always been, cheerfully listened and lifted my spirits. We didn’t know each other’s actual identities, but we had been on-line gaming partners, it seemed like, forever.
I guess it was just my being afraid of how he would react if he knew I was really a guy, so I had adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. His friendship was one I valued very much, and if I was being a coward about telling him about myself, so be it.
The next two days, I’m telling you sister, were not a lot fun. Frank was even more annoying than usual, and that is saying something. All he wanted to talk about was Galidor’s threat to “Out” Crystal, and that was the last thing I wanted to think about, much less talk about. What did it take for Frank to get the hint that I don’t want to be his friend?
Wednesday night I was holding my breath, waiting for Galidor to make good his threat. Prior to the game I had a good talk with Azi that calmed my nerves somewhat, and I made it though the ‘cast okay. I think the worst part was that I couldn’t enjoy the sensations of flight via my inductors very much, because I was so on edge.
We got to the end of the ‘cast and I was beginning to think I had managed to dodge the “bullet” that is until I got the nasty-gram. Galidor PM’ed me. In short, he knew that I was a guy and where I lived. That fact made him sick, and he would “fix” me, but good.
I’m telling you sister, that the acid boiling away in my tummy almost made me throw up on the spot! I was going to copy and send a copy of that nasty-gram to Bob when the entire message ate itself! There simply wasn’t a record that I had received a message at all.
Having no proof that Galidor was threatening me with more than just bad words, I really couldn’t complain to Bob about it. After taking a handful of antacids, I had no choice but to PM Galidor back and try to defuse this sorry mess.
I politely pointed out that at no time had I ever intentionally misled anyone. I had gotten annoyed at him because of his actions; although I understood that he was just playing his character.
Apologizing, I pointed out that it was in everyone’s interest to just relax. The show’s ratings were important to keep our sponsors happy and this dispute wasn’t helping. ‘Please, please let’s not let our “dislike” of each other spoil the opportunities that our ‘cast program gives us.’
With my fingers crossed I hit the send key. A little later I got a reply that said only “OK”. I really didn’t know if that was good or bad, but at least it seemed that he wasn’t going to do something stupid, I hope!
The next day at work once more I was greeted with the dreaded “Hey Tex” from Frank. “Have you seen the web-cast forums from last night?”
Wearily I shook my head no, knowing that Frank would tell me in all of its gruesome glory the latest gossip.
“Galidor posted late last night that he and Crystal had come to an understanding. He said she had apologized to him saying she had been a bitch and wanted to make it up to him. I wondered if she slept with him?” Frank said with a leer in his voice.
I ran to the restroom, and locked myself in a stall while I alternated between wanting to kill both Galidor and Frank or just crying. I wasn’t sure why I was so emotional, but it was probably just a combination of stress and not sleeping well.
It said good things about my other co-workers, that they did notice that I was having a problem, and sent someone in to find out if I was alright. Hidden behind the stall door I told my more civilized co-worker that I had eaten something that didn’t agree with me.
I had gotten myself mostly together, but Jim, my supervisor, hunted me down to find out for himself how I was. It was good to know that I was valued enough for him to bother. Yeah, I shouldn’t talk that way about myself, I know, but my self-esteem was taking a bit of a beating this week.
Apparently I wasn’t fooling anyone, as Jim took one look at me and told me that he would clear some “sick” time with the front office, and for me to go home and rest. I protested, but he made it clear to me that I would be getting some paid “sick” time, and he knew I hadn’t used any of my “sick” or “vacation” days yet.
Not being able to argue with his kindness, I gathered up my stuff and went home. Maybe I was coming down with something other than stress and the usual lack of sleep, because when I lay down, I slept for most of the rest of the day.
When I got up, I knew that indeed, somehow I had caught a cold or something. My sinuses were stuffed and I had an itchy throat. Fixing some food, I found that some smegging hacker had crashed the Dragon’s Gate servers. A polite message from tech support said that the backups should be up soon, and three days would be added to all active subscriptions as compensation.
Disgusted with the entire week, I chatted online with Azi, along with some other on-line friends for a while and caught some footage of NASA's latest moon landing at Shackleton Crater before heading back to bed nurse my ailing body.
I woke up in wet, sticky sheets, and so weak I could hardly move. Reluctantly pulling myself upright on the edge of the bed, I made my stuffy head focus on what had awakened me. It was the first time that I’d ever been “stopped up” this badly. I couldn’t breathe very well, and my eyes were glued shut.
Croaking, “Yuk,” I pulled the Kleenex box over to help with my runny nose and the “nasty stuff” I was coughing up. Finally being able to see, it was even grosser than I had thought. The ill-looking goop was all over me! My silly inner little voice exclaimed, “I’ve been slimed!” quoting the old classic movie “Ghost Busters.”
I’ve never heard of someone, excuse the expression, of sweating snot from their pores before, but I even had it in my hair, and needless to say, coughing it up in muscle tearing convulsions. Even my bladder was getting in on the act and demanding that I go to the bathroom. Now!
Stumbling feebly from my ruined bedding, everything seemed out of kilter. The room appeared to be bigger, and my legs were refusing to work quite right. Having trouble balancing, I had to lean on the wall to aid me in getting to the bathroom. Not bothering to stand, I sat down on the toilet grateful to able to make it without any accidents.
Blearily, I could make out that it was a little before five AM, before my body demanded my attention back. My bowels and bladder released followed by the most awful gut-wrenching cramps I’ve ever had. On top of that, I felt my gorge “rising” and just barely managed to grab the small trashcan in the bathroom before puking my guts out.
No, I mean that for real, sister! I know what I had to eat the last couple of days and the unmentionables that were coming up out of me weren’t among them. It was the old cliché of “All exits are open, no pushing, no shoving!”
My eyes were trying to glue themselves shut again as I gingerly got my bottom part cleaned. My “boy” parts were very tender, and it felt like I was peeing battery acid. If I hadn’t already heaved, the smell alone would have made me want to, all over again.
Pulling myself to the sink, I tried to cleanup a little. My skin was very sensitive and felt feverish. Yep, to say I was getting worried that something was seriously wrong, would be an understatement.
That was when the screaming started from outside. With the aid of the wall again I got to the window of my trailer. As I looked out I realized that the screaming was actually a siren.
Wishing I hadn’t looked, I saw an army Hummer with a set of those big civil defense speakers on top slowly making its way though the trailer park. What froze my blood was the walking escort of soldiers in bulky chemical defense suits with weapons, and the Nanotech hazard sign of a globe of orange dots on a field of safety yellow that they all bore.
Shocked fully awake, I could now hear other sirens in the distance. Now I know someone is going to point out that the Santa Clara Valley doesn’t have a civil defense network. That was before the Sri Lanka Accords that required it of every area with a nanotech factory or research facility.
I suspect that if the government had its way, we would be in the middle of the Nevada nuclear test ranges, but failing that, had legislated the smeg out of it, instead.
Teetering, I got to my TV to find out more and sit down before I fell down. One of the local anchors were on and it was very obvious that he was scared crap-less. “CDC (Center for Disease Control) and the DHS (Department of Homeland Security) has issued an alert concerning the possible release of a hazardous nanotech device. Please remain calm and stay home until advised that the “all clear” has been given.”
“The alert was called because, several patients admitted last night to Santa Clara Valley Medical Center, exhibited symptoms that were consistent with extreme nano-transformations. Testing teams are trying to confirm or deny the presence of any hazardous materials, but the Governor of California, with the approval of DHS has declared Martial Law.”
Remain calm!?!? There were nearly three million people in the Santa Clara valley area, and San Francisco wasn’t far away either. The last time this had happened, the powers that be, NUKED the place! Remembering the horrific pictures from Sri Lanka of people melting and twisting into god-awful shapes, I hobbled at my best speed for the bathroom mirror.
The best time to examine yourself is not while puking and crapping on yourself. Now, I pried my eyes open and was really looking. My face had always been very male, but now it could easily pass for a woman’s face. The brown hair I had been born with, was now longer and fuller, with auburn highlights.
Big green eyes looked back at me, rather than the gray ones I had looked at only the day before. Not only that, but they seemed unnaturally large. I could see very little white around the edges, and the irises appeared more elliptical than the round they should be.
Holding my breath, I brushed my hair away so I could get a good look at my ears and sure ‘nuff they were becoming pointy. What was going on here? Was I turning into an elf or something? Examining my chest carefully, my boy nipples had grown, like those of a young girl in puberty.
Cupping my budding breasts in my hands, I didn’t know whether to cry in joy, or horror at the changes being made to me. I don’t think I can explain how I felt; terrified that I was being transformed by a force that could so easily kill me, or grateful that somehow I was now closer to the person I really was inside.
It took me awhile to start my brain working again. Not everyone on Sri Lanka had died or been crippled, and San Francisco was part of the good ole’ US of A, so Uncle Sam will at least think twice about nuking the place. Besides, with the number of people commuting into the Santa Clara Valley, it was likely the nano was already spreading outside of it.
Remembering what I knew about nano-transformations, it seemed like the best idea was to treat this like the flu. Nanos, like any machine building something, needed raw materials. I would need plenty of fluids and easy to digest food, so soup was a good choice. Normally, in a hospital, the nutrient rich fluids would be given in IVs, but after checking my weight and being surprised at losing almost thirty pounds overnight, I decided that I had better eat something.
Once I started eating, I had a hard time stopping, and let’s not talk about the strange cravings that started. Whatever was happening to me hadn’t stopped yet, because I still had, what did the medical professionals call it, discharge? I had nasty crap running out of my nose and eyes, as well as coughing it up. Yet all the while, I was stuffing my face with potato chips covered in veggie oil and peanut butter, urk!
The terrified TV anchor had been replaced by someone else who had it a little more together, but he was giving mostly the same message. What had changed was they were calling it a nano-virus. It was different from the “Devourer”, in that it was targeting just us humans, while the “Devourer” had eaten everything, mineral, plant, and animal.
“If you think you’ve been infected, don’t panic! Officials are conducting a house by house inspection. Please be prepared to leave your home if an evacuation is called for, blah, blah, blah.” The only thing they said that made sense, was to pack an over-night bag and making sure you have identification with you.
Getting dressed might be a good start, but I was still slimed. As far as I could tell, the slime was just a byproduct of my change, and not part of it, like a chrysalis or anything. I decided to risk a shower. I was concerned about contamination getting into the water system, but it was too late for that, considering all of the nasty stuff I’d already flushed earlier.
It felt so good to get clean, and the warm water vapor helped me breathe easier. I washed myself gently, and was glad I was cautious. My skin was really sensitive, and my “boy” parts were very much so.
Now clean, I examined myself carefully, and found I was developing a hunch back. A large lump was forming, and it really itched. Thinking maybe I should’ve left the slime, I located a tape measure. Smeg, I was shrinking! Six inches of my previous five foot eleven was gone.
Being shorter wasn’t that big a deal, but the smegging hunch-back thing most certainly was. Feeling sorry for myself, and depressed, I started crying. Modern medical nano-tech might be able to correct some of this, but the changes I was seeing were extreme.
I knew exactly what I would have looked like as a woman, due to computer sims and my transformation pre-scans. I had “tweaked” some things, because a girl does have her vanity after all, but this person I was turning into wasn’t me. I could see a girl looking back at me, but not the woman I wanted to be.
Hearing a beeping from my computer, I saw that I had a message from Azi, who was very worried about me. Opening up chat, he said the news had gone national, and knowing I was in California, he’d wanted to check on me.
Having to type a little slowly because of my now slender but shorter fingers, I told Azi that I was definitely infected, but okay so far. He said that a media lock-down was in effect, and phones were out due to the Martial Law order.
Even on the Internet it had been hard to reach me, but he had worked around some of the blockages. He asked if I had anyone to contact in an emergency, and I told him no. What he wanted next, shocked me. Azi wanted to come to me!
He was no more than an hour away, and with the panic and fear that he saw, Azi was concerned that the military would overreact and begin a cover-up or something. Fear was what had gotten Sri Lanka nuked and I could see his point. However, I didn’t want my friend to catch whatever I had, and I told him so, not to mention the quarantine and Martial Law.
His next inquiry also surprised me. He wanted me to show him what I looked like with my web-cam. My first reaction was a NO, but looking down at my breasts, I really didn’t look male anymore.
Well, I still had boy parts but they were very small and it was pretty clear that I would be sitting down to pee from now on. Azi said he wanted the pictures, so in a worst case scenario, it might help him find me if things got worse.
I was scared, and I remembered only too well the CNN coverage from Sri Lanka. It was comforting to talk with my friend, and I trusted him. I told him to hold on and I went to dress.
I did have a small collection of filly things, but, smeg it, they didn’t fit anymore. Oh well, it’s athletic clothes time. After making very sure that “Mister Winky” was well out of sight, I enabled my web-cam.
My face blushed scarlet, but I slowly turned so he could see all of me. I did pull up the back of my t-shirt so Azi could get pic’s of my hunch-back. I got my scales and measuring tape out and made sure that the camera got my current height and weight. Smeg, I was still loosing both, too, I saw with dismay.
Azi sent back that he had gotten what he needed. What I wasn’t expecting was the “You’re beautiful.”
Blushing again I typed back, “This isn’t me!”
He replied with, “You’ll be beautiful no matter what shape you’re in.”
After all of these years, this was the first time that he had seriously flirted with me, and it confused and pleased me at the same time. His timing could be better!
I told him I had to get an overnight bag ready in case I had to leave the trailer. Leaving the web-cam on, I went back to my bedroom to get my things ready. It didn’t take long to pack my toothbrush and a few other hygiene things.
The TV was still broadcasting the same old stuff, and it was on every cable channel, so it must still be set up on some sort of emergency network override thing. I really wished that I could find out how the rest of the world was taking this.
I went back to Chat with Azi and he was still on-line. He floored me again! “Do you know you’re looking a lot like your Crystal avatar?”
Typing back, “What?!” in denial.
He sent a graphics file of a picture of Crystal next to my web-cam picture side by side. Azi was right! ‘Hunch-back? Oh Crap! I’m growing wings?’
Shaking, I sent back, “You know this is not a good thing, right? Crystal is only a foot tall, and maybe in a world with magic, she has human normal intelligence or higher, but here in the real world, what’s the smartest animal with brains that small; birds, mice maybe?”
I started crying again, smeg it, and it took awhile for Azi to calm me down. He started going on about coming to me again, and I refused! “I don’t think that my turning into Crystal is a coincidence, seeing how the Dragon’s Gate server was taken down by a hacker last night. Think what would happen if you started changing into a dragon? That alone might kill you, not counting that our trigger happy army might start shooting!”
“Azi,” I told him, “I am GC Smith,” and gave him my address. He told me he was RB Saks and gave me contact numbers for him that I included with my ID stuff. It was easy to find an on-line form to name him my “official” contact person in case of emergency. It wouldn’t help much, but might let him get to see me if worst came to worst.
It was then that it hit me! “Azi!” I sent, “Galidor said he would “fix” me good. You don’t think he had anything to do with this do you?”
“Galidor threatened you?,” Azi asked.
“Well, in a way, but I thought that we had managed to “cool off” a little when it looked he would settle for humiliating me,” I replied.
“Crystal‘s avatar image is a custom piece. For a nano-transformation to just randomly come up with that image is next to impossible. It would be nice to know what the other victims are transforming into. If they are all like you, it would have to be someone like Galidor, because he does have a motive. Still, it would be insane to loose nanites in a population, to just to get revenge on one person,” Azi wrote back.
On that happy note, I left to pack my overnight bag with what meager clothing that would still fit. I had a few feminine articles. Finishing with my overnight bag, my grumbling stomach was demanding food again. It was just another of the contradictory feelings from this nano-bug, sick, but starving.
Maybe most bachelors don’t have much food in the house, but when you are trying to pinch every penny, you eat at home a lot. The strange food cravings continued and for your own peace of mind I’m going to leave that part out.
Cleaning up the mess I’d made in the kitchen, and trashing my ruined bedding helped distract me from my aches and pains. What was hurting most were the growing pains in reverse, in the bones of my legs, and hips. my arms hurt as well, but not as badly as the lower extremities. I was also developing hot, feverish feelings from my “hunchback”, where it looked like I was growing wings.
I took some generic acetaminophen, thinking that it couldn’t hurt at this point ,and was wondering if it would help if I wet some towels and laid across my back to help cool the “hunchback”, when I heard a sharp knock at the door and hobbled over to answer it. I was wearing a loose t-shirt and some stretchy exercise pants. In spite of that, I still looked like a little girl in her big brother’s sweat suit.
Looking out of the window, I saw one of those environmental suits, so I grabbed my bag when I opened the door. What I should have been thinking about was that those guys were just as scared as I was, but I was in too much discomfort at the time.
Then I heard the, “Oh Crap! She’s infected!”
Seeing how I was barely five foot tall now and had a very visible hunchback. No shit, Sherlock!
There was no way for me to tell how old the soldier was with the suit on, but the fear in his young sounding voice gave me some clues. What grabbed my attention was the scared way he was pointing his M-8A3 assault rifle at me! Slowly raising my hands palms out, I noticed my voice was changing too, but managed I think to say understandably, “I need help.”
I thought about turning around and locking the door of my trailer, but the nervous guy with the gun kept gesturing towards some school buses. Deciding that as jumpy as everyone was, my life was more important than my stuff in the trailer.
I wasn’t able to move very fast and I would’ve been bitching like smeg over this very un-cool kid with the gun, if I hadn’t been terrified out of my soon to be birdbrains.
Glancing up at the other passengers as I got close to the bus, I could see other victims of the nano-virus. They didn’t look, as I had feared, like my Crystal avatar, but they did have the fantasy motif thing going. I could see elves and other races from Dragon’s Gate game.
Walking even the short distance to the curb was exhausting for me. I could see other soldiers leading some that looked unaffected to tour/Greyhound buses, while those like me were going to school buses. Army Hawk Attack VTOLs (Vertical Take Off and Landing) circled overhead and Mule Medical Evacuation VTOLs were taking out those unable to walk.
I was struggling to get on board the bus when I saw another man with sergeant stripes on his environ suit. Even muffled by the suit, I could hear him use a colorful vocabulary gained over a life time to chew out my young friend with the gun.
He came up to me and helped me onto the bus. “Sorry about Private Jenkins, Ma’am. Please understand we’re all doing the best we can, but everyone is just as scared as you are.”
“Where are you taking us?” I asked self-consciously in my little girl’s voice.
“We’re using a high school as a triage center right now. I’m told doctors will see if it’s safe to kill your nanites with Hi-Mag. The good news is, right now it is only acting like a virus, so the Brass think we can contain this.” the sergeant told me gently. “No one is dying from this thing so far, so try and relax, Ok?”
I gave him a small nod and found a seat. Sitting down, I was relieved that Private Jenkins was the exception, and that sergeant was on top of things. At least we weren’t being shot out of hand.
Looking around at my fellow passengers, I was glad that Azi was not in this mess. There was a poor soul in the back changing into a minotaur, and he was in obvious distress. If Azi had started turning into a dragon, his chances of survival wouldn’t be very good, I fear.
Twisting around, I tried to get comfortable, but the tight feverish skin across my hunchback was just too tender. I ended up resting my forehead on the seat in front me and that helped a bit.
“Are you going to be okay?” a soft voice in front of me asked.
Glancing up I saw one of the elves I’d seen earlier, watching me with some concern. She had the usual elfin good looks, along with Asian like slanted eyes. I could see her irises were elliptical like mine, and she had the pointed ears as well. She, however, didn’t look to be growing wings.
Trying to be on my best behavior, after all, their bodies were being assaulted, too. I said, “It depends on how much more I shrink.”
The concern and sympathy in her voice made it hard to dislike her, even if I did feel like snapping someone’s head off. “Oh my, you’re changing into a fairy?”
Ironically remembering my family’s reaction when I told them that I was transgendered, I couldn’t help giggling, even though it hurt. They couldn’t understand the difference between wanting to be a woman, and being gay. Men were men, and women were women, and that was that, in their minds. Putting my past behind me, I nodded.
The elf said, “The more extreme the change, the more and longer you’re sick. I was just a little ill last night, but I actually feel better now than I have in years. Hmmm … Jil, my daughter had more of a problem. The good news is that we both are fine right now.” She introduced herself, “I’m Heather Giovannia. I was a nurse’s aid before I married, and had this one.” tossing her head at Jil.
Looking at the young elf girl next to Heather, I saw they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. Jil shared her mom’s elfish appearance, but while Heather was dealing with her changes well, Jil was anything but happy.
Piping in my high voice, “I guess you should call me Crystal.” I’ll never get used to sounding like this!
Heather raised one eyebrow that was so much like Leonard Nimoy’s that I gave a little giggle.
“You know, you really do look a lot like her don’t you? I mean, Crystal, from the 'Sword’s Point' ‘cast”, she said, blushing a little.
“I know, because I am … well, she was my avatar anyway.” I told her.
Startled she took my hand excitedly, “I can’t believe you live here. I thought that you guys were like movie stars.”
Thankful for the distraction from my discomfort, “Well, more like a reasonably successful garage band would be more like it. The extra money from the promotional stuff is nice, but we all have to have day jobs. At least I did. Know of anyone hiring one foot tall bird brains?” I asked, falling into depression again.
Heather did her Spock thing again with the eyebrows, “Bird brains?”
I explained my fear of shrinking so much that I would only have the brainpower of a bird, or maybe a mouse. It was plenty clear that some sort intelligent design was behind this. Maybe the plan had nanite augmentation in mind for the full transform, but the government would never allow active nanos out into the population. What a choice ,of Birdbrains or birdcage.
It was hard not to feel the almost physical fear and distress in that bus. The minotaur was growing horns out of his skull and plainly, the human skull wasn’t made for that. It was definitely causing him a lot pain and I could only imagine the mental distress.
Heather shook her head sadly, “I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve lost about thirty years and fifty pounds. Elves have always been my favorite fantasy race, and I don’t mind being one at all.”
Jil, her daughter, had risen from her apathy and was listening to us. I gestured at Jil, “Is she ok Heather?”
Heather hugged her daughter, who looked embarrassed “Jil has had a bit of a shock.”
“Mom!” Jil exclaimed, in a way that made me think that there was more going on, than on the surface, was concerned that her mom was going to say something more.
“Were you really Crystal from the web-cast?” Jil asked nervously.
I smiled at her, “Can’t you tell?” I asked Jil.
“But there’s a guy that lives in that trailer,” she barely whispered back.
As Jil was speaking, I could see the concern in her mother’s eyes and thought carefully about what I said next.
“Jil, I’m going to hazard a guess that you and your mom played elves, didn’t you?”
Heather and Jil looked and at other and nodded yes. “Yeah,” said Jil “My mom has always been elf crazy. I’ve seen those “Lord of the Rings” movies sooo … many times.
Her mom giggled, and Jil blushed, but kept speaking, “I had an elf ranger archer named Jiltanith, and my Mom has been playing this elf sorceress, like forever.”
“Well, I played a fairy sorceress and did a really good job at it. A lot of people thought that I really was a girl. What they thought, or believed doesn’t change who I really am. I’m much more concerned about dying than anything else. Besides, turning into something like our friend would brother me a lot more than just becoming a girl.” I said, gesturing politely at our minotaur in distress.
After a couple more changelings came on board, we started moving. We made some small talk, and I was thankful for the distraction from my problem. I was guessing that Jil had also been a guy not so long ago, because how self-conscious she was of everything.
“Jil,” I asked her, “Are you going by your avatar name because like me, your old one doesn’t fit anymore?”
She gave a little unwilling nod, and started crying softly. Heather hugged and comforted her child who was hurting. When she got her cry done, she whispered, “How do you stand it?”
“My hunchback is hurting enough that I’m really not noticing the rest yet. I’ve also shrunk at least a foot so far, and I’m worried more about that right at the moment.” I told her. “Hey it’s the truth!”
Jil thought about that for a second, “I’m sorry. I guess feeling sorry for myself, when everyone else is hurting so much worse, is stupid.”
I took her hand, “Jil, it is not silly! Something has attacked us, and forced us to become something we are not. The trick is to try and make the best of it we can right now.” Turning to Heather, “You have a good kid.”
Heather gave a sigh, “It hasn’t been easy of late, because her father is gone so much and teenagers are always having problems. I must admit that Jil and I are closer now, but I don’t think I could recommend turning sons into daughters as a solution.”
Jil let out another, “MOM!”
“Just think of all the shopping and beauty supplies,” Heather said teasingly, “it will cost a fortune.”
As Jil shuddered in horror, Heather and I couldn’t resist sharing a smile.
The bus pulled up to a high school that was crowded with military vehicles and tents. As we got off the bus, a person in a white environmental suit asked us to have our ID ready. While we had a picture taken of the new us, they ran a copy of our Id. Oh yeah, for those in obvious distress, they did a triage, for those who was still changing, like me, or were in immediate danger, like the minotaur.
What I could see indicated that this had all done been on the fly. The soldiers were at least more courteous, and the medical staff seemed to try to help, but the undercurrent of fear was still there.
Our picture ID was pinned to us. I was taken to a tent where others like me and the minotaur were in pain. Most of those I saw were changing mass, like the centaur lying awkwardly on a cot. I was dismayed to see that my feet no longer touched ground when I sat on the cot.
Yeah, I was feeling more than a bit sorry for myself, no matter what I had told Jil. That was until I saw Galidor. I mean, not every Avatar is unique, but the ones Bob did for those of us in for the ‘cast had been tweaked a lot.
He was elfish, of course, tall and slim, dressed like most of us changelings in baggy athletic wear. His clothes suggested that he’d been shorter and broader.
The eye-opener was the two men he was with. Even in the white environmental suits, they looked liked MIBs (Men in Black, Feds). Not only that, but Galidor was wearing a shoulder holster, and had a badge pinned to him.
I mean, with the exception of the elf, these were the stereotypical Feds (Federal Agent) I was looking at and they were looking for someone, me?
Confused, I wondered why a Fed would get into a smegging contest over a disagreement in a game. You would think that the psychology screen would catch immature behavior like that. Unless, it was about something else.
Guiltily, I looked away trying to hide my face. I hadn’t done anything! Well, I did bitch out a federal agent it seems. I didn’t know!
That was when I noticed that I was still aware of the Feds, even though I wasn’t looking at them.
I couldn’t see them, but with a strange certainty, I knew where they were. Concentrating on how I knew this, it seemed to be coming from the top of my head.
Reaching up carefully, I touched a flyaway hair that gave me, I don’t know how to describe it, except as feedback like, maybe?
It was then I knew it wasn’t a hair but an antenna! ‘Ok, so not a bird brain, but a bug-brain. This just gets better and better sister!’
I was waiting for Galidaor to arrest me for some trumped up charge, but to my surprise they quickly backed away, and if not for my new “Bug-Vision” I wouldn’t have known they were there.
Galidor left, but the two MIBs stayed behind, and were definitely keeping on eye on yours truly.
The upside of this, was I got better treatment. I Bug-Visioned one of the MIBs, convincing one of the Doctors to attend me, and it didn’t escape me that I got some privacy as well; if you can call a curtained off section of tent, privacy.
The Doctor had a duct-taped name tag and a makeshift ID kinda like mine. Her name was Doctor Shah, and it was my guess that she was from India or Pakistan from her accent. That threw me for a moment, till I remembered Sri Lanka was off the Indian coast.
Inspecting her badge, I could see it had a UN insignia on it. I breathed a little sigh of relief, because if the UN was on site with medical help, then this was less likely to devolve into a cover-up, involving mass graves.
Some of Sri Lanka’s victims had survived with deformities and a few very fortunate ones with what could only be called superpowers. I’m sure you’ve seen them on the Tonight Show. That guy who can walk up walls, or that old woman with the elephant’s trunk and ears.
My silly inner voice was imagining, “And here she is folks, the amazing Crystal. Let’s have a big hand for her tonight.”
“How are you tonight?”
“Buzz, buzz, buzz.”
“Miss? Sir?” Doctor Shah corrected herself as she brought me out of my day-dream.
“Sorry,” I blushed. “I’m not at my best.”
Getting right to business, she carefully scanned me with a medical diagnostic wand after she input my ID to get my medical files. Modern medicine using the multi-purpose diagnostic wands could perform the equivalent of X-rays, MRI, Sonograms, and blood pressure in the time it used to take them to take your temperature.
Saying that it would take a few minutes for the results, she asked me the usual questions. When did I first observe symptoms? Pain? When did the discomfort turn to pain?
Plainly curious as to why I was getting special treatment, I could tell somehow when her questions tuned from professional to just being curious. Where did I work? Was I still a candidate for transformation?
All I really could add was I did play Dragon’s Gate and was part of the “At Swords Point” web-cast’s cast. I was somehow becoming very like my character’s avatar in appearance, and one of my fears was of personality death because of my shrinking form.
I did mention that my Avatar was a custom one for the ‘cast and I was closely resembling her, not just the standard game sprite.
She did make a note of that, and I guess that satisfied her, thinking that I was some sort of minor celebrity or maybe a clue in the spread of the nano-virus.
I suppose it was more like a virus, than Sri Lanka’s “Devourer” which altered and warped everything from the soil to the top of the trees, and all in between. I remember watching a TV program that stated that much of the bizarre mutational effect from the “Devourer” was due to the tiny machines malfunctioning, and breaking down, because of chaos and entropy effects on a massive scale. I mean, just look how long it takes for a new model car to work out all the bugs and problems on a new game console?
The “Devourer” nano had been an early prototype of nano-tech, but this virus seemed to be much more advanced. No mutations here, except for the deliberate ones that had plundered the MMOG data bases and matched player to avatar. It took what; 48 hours to spread and begin the transformations?
With my own male to female transformation pending, I had read about every advancement I could find. Medical science at the moment can’t duplicate these changes. Appearance maybe, but the Bug-Vision thing, I don’t think so!
I was beginning to suspect that this nano-virus thing was a self replicating nano Artificial Intelligence that was specifically banned by the accords and International Law.
You can build nanites in a restrictive environment, and ship them to the work site in this said environment. Use the nanites, and if they escape, they can’t survive outside their special environment, and self-destruct.
Nano that can reproduce themselves and adapt to changing situations controlled by something that might run amok, NO!
Of course nano developers protested, saying that this limited the usefulness and potential way too much. Fear naturally overcame their objections. All the legislators had to do was point at the once glowing crater that use to be Sri Lanka, and that was that.
Doctor Shah’s eyes turned serious though her protective helmet as my test results came back. First, my bones were being replaced by some sort of hollow carbon-fiber-like material, and the wings I was indeed growing, were also of a similar material.
Second, I was growing female organs including ovaries, and a womb. I had to resist touching myself to find out for myself. Ecstatic, yes, but I was still being forced against my will to be this way.
The antenna had “fronds” somewhat like a moths, that gave me a type of Motion Sense and might even detect other things as well. Okay scary part coming up, yes, my brain was rewiring itself, if for no other reason than because of the antenna. Just exactly what else was happening was anyone’s guess right now.
Now the good news, my shrinking had slowed, and Dr. Shah expected it to stop altogether soon. She based this on the readings from my bone reconstruction. The bad news, was I was going to end up somewhere just over 4 feet tall, and at the current time they didn’t want to risk interfering with the nano-virus because of the radical changes to my bone marrow. Stopping the changes now might be the same as killing me, since it helps produce blood.
I could lie and tell you how I took the news in stride and escaped my watchers and ran off to find the cause of the virus outbreak fought the good fight and won against overwhelming odds.
Nope, I blubbered like baby who has had her lollipop taken away and cried my heart out. It took awhile, but I finally drifted off into a restless sleep exhausted and drained as the nano-virus raped my body.
Sometime later, a volunteer, a Kitsumi, came to see me. She, like the other humanoid changelings, outwardly had what appeared mostly just cosmetic changes. For her it was the Asian eyes, fox ears, and tail. She said, “The suits are awkward for the doc’s to use, so she and other changelings with medical backgrounds are helping in the overworked wards.”
I half-remember asking her, “How bad is it?”
The fox-woman replied, “Well, some where between 10 and 20 thousand people have been quarantined so far, with about third of them with serious problems, like those gaining mass, like the centaurs and minotaurs. Losing mass while painful and alarming, isn’t life threatening for those like the dwarfs, halflings, and fairies.”
There just weren’t enough doctors and equipment to go around. If that wasn’t bad enough, a willing guinea pig had found that we were still contagious in the age old way. A man who had played an elf, had removed his suit and found out the hard way.
I gave a weak smile at that, “They are going to have to set-up roadblocks to keep the wanna-be elf lords out!” My silly inner voice started singing softly, “She’s an elf, I’m an elf, don’t you want to be an elf too?” to the old Dr. Pepper jingle.
I manage to take a few bites while Foxy changed my IV, and she applied some salve to my feverish wing “humps.” At least most of my changes had finished, but for the wings, and soon I went back to sleep.
When I awoke, I was surprised to see my young friend from the bus, Jil. Her mom, Heather, being a nurse, had volunteered the two of them to help. Jil had been keeping an eye on me because of the lack of monitoring equipment which I needed due to my developing wings.
My hunchback was much bigger now, but Jil gave some welcome relief when she applied some more salve to it. She was having problems coming to terms with being a girl and, if she had to help someone, she had asked for it to be me, since I at least, was going though something similar.
Knowing that someone else was in the same situation seemed to calm her. It seemed that Jil had been a Michael, and had found playing a girl avatar erotic. Jil, unlike me, couldn’t use the inductors, because of her age. The parental controls had made her play without them.
She had found it enjoyable watching her Elf warrior maid flounce around in her iron-wood mail bikini. What teenage boy wouldn’t like to have a beautiful elf nymph obey his every command, even if it was only an image?
I really wanted to help Jil, because I knew all too well how it was to be trapped in the wrong skin. Knowing the despair I felt as a girl inside, but caught in my “Greg suit”, I was filled with compassion for Jil.
Even in this age of the miracles of modern medical science, transitioning from one gender to the other isn’t easy. Statistics alone point out that most transgendered people manage to live without transitioning.
Not a high quality of life, however, as the suicide rate and the incidence of serious depression statistics morbidly demonstrate. At least the medical community has finally admitted that it is a problem with a physical cause and not purely psychiatric.
“Jil” I told her softly, “They can do a lot with nanites and surgery if they can’t reverse this somehow. Don’t give in to despair.”
She nodded sadly, “Mom has been telling me the same thing. I know that one of the reasons I’m here with you is everyone is trying to keep me too busy to think too much about IT!” she finished as she awkwardly removed her medical gloves.
“Why don’t you try and play Jiltanith?” I asked her.
Jil looked at me strangely, but I continued, “I don’t mean to go around shooting people with arrows, but you’ve played a girl in Dragon’s Gate and must have done well if you have a set of iron-wood mail.”
Iron-wood mail is magical armour enchanted by elfin wood-singers. They literally sing wood into the form of the rings needed for the mail and add other enchantments that let it exceed the strength of mere steel. In the Dragon’s Gate game, this still living wooden mail allows magical castings while metal armour can’t, as well as its being rare.
She nodded at the compliment, “But, I don’t want to be a girl!”
Touching her hand “Jil I know you don’t, but I can see how unhappy you are. Instead of Michael being treated like Jil, because that’s what everyone else sees, try letting Michael pretend to be Jil while being treated like Jil. Try to find fun or enjoyable things about being Jil,” I suggested to her.
Seeing objections in her eyes, I added, “Don’t ever forget Michael, because that’s who you are. But doing nothing but thinking of how much you miss being him, will drive you crazy!”
She gestured helplessly, “I can’t help it. Everyone treats me so differently now that it’s driving me nuts. It sux!”
I made a decision, “This is a secret, OK? Just between us and you can‘t tell anyone.”
She bit her lip, but said, “Alright.”
“I have a medical condition that made me a boy when I was born, even though inside I was a girl.” Her eyes got large, but I shushed her. “I should’ve been a girl, but no one would listen to me. It took some time, but I found out for myself what was wrong, and was working on saving the money to fix my problem,” I told her.
In disbelief she blurted out, “You wanted to be this way?”
“No, I have no desire to be a fairy! Like you, I just liked playing one in the game. I was a girl all along on the inside, but not on the outside where everyone treated me like a guy because that is all they could see, Jil.”
“Even though I didn’t want to be one, there were certain advantages to being a guy. Being stronger and able to discourage trouble was one plus. Guys can also get away with being slobs sometimes, and no one really thinks it’s a big deal. I tried to enjoy these things kind of like a consolation prize, that I was stuck with, understand Jil?” I asked her.
“So I need to try and think of stuff good about being a girl, even though I want to go back to being a boy?” she asked.
I smiled, “Or in your case, an elf.”
Jil gave me a wan smile, the first I’d seen from her.
“Have you tried to see in the dark yet?” I asked, pointing at her cat-eyes.
“Yeah … it was kinda strange, because everything was in shades of gray, but still clear. I can hear a lot better now, too.” She blushed a little. Looking a little distressed, she continued, “I hate how I’m always blushing or giggling”
Waggling my finger, “No, you won’t have any problems coming up with reasons you don’t like being a girl elf. Remember, think of the good things about this. For instance many of the top swimmers in the world are women, and the holder of the deepest free-dive by anyone is a woman.”
There was a moment of silence as if she was rather unwilling to thinking about it. “Coordination,” she stuttered, “I mean, Jiltanith was a really good archer.”
I had been hoping for more on the female, rather than the Elf side of the tally. At least it was a start. “I bet your sense of balance is better, and that you’re a lot more flexible now. Have you tried “touching” your toes yet?”
Jil shook her head, “I haven’t done anything like that yet. This all just feels so weird.” she said wrapping her arms about herself and I could see the small frown as she “found” her beasts.
“There’s no need to rush anything, but if you want to try now, I can keep watch for you.” I gently prodded. “After all, we’re all dressed for it,” pointing out how about 99% of us changelings were in exercise clothes anyway, because of their one size fits all adjustability.
More than a bit self-conscious, she stretched a little, then slowly reached for the floor of our tent. To her surprise, but not mine, she easily placed both palms flat on the floor. Jil was a teenage elf girl, for smeg’s sake.
She looked up at me, and I gestured her to go on. She bent over double, and then past that, looking at the ceiling from between her legs. Jil blushed again when she saw she was looking at her own “rear,” but was fortunate that being a young elf she didn’t have a lot of “chest” to shift around.
I couldn’t help smiling when she lowered herself into a full split and I saw the amazement on her face, “Wow, I never could do that before.” Then her face fell when she recalled “why” she could do it now.
“Jil, it’s alright to feel bad about all of this. I feel bad too. Whoever, or whatever did this, stole something from everyone. Just don’t give the smegger any satisfaction,” I advised her.
I saw another smile trying to appear as I cursed the SOB who had caused all of this. “It doesn’t mean to give up trying to become who you really are, but rather, working to live with it until you can do something about it, other than drive yourself crazy!”
Pulling herself to her feet with a lithe motion that many a girl gymnast would envy, she nodded her brownish curls, “I think I understand what you’re saying. Sorta like if all you got are lemons kinda of thing.”
Her mom Heather pushed thought the curtain of my little abode right then, asking, “Are you two doing alright?”
I made an exaggerated guilty like look, “who me?” that teased a giggle from both mother and daughter. It was nice to know that all the time I’d spent in front a web-cam hadn’t been wasted, since for the software to work, the facial motions had to be a little over the top.
Heather examined my still growing wings and I winced slightly at her gentle probing. She followed that by checking my height and weight, along with the usual temperature and blood pressure checks.
She had an expectant look and smiled, “Well it won’t be too much longer for your wings to break-out and that should end most of your pain and discomfort. You have also stopped shrinking, Crystal, and your weight looks to have stabilized as well.”
“So I’m not going to become a bug-brain after all, huh? What’s the final verdict on the height?” inclining my head at the measuring tape.
“Fifty and a half inches and twenty-eight pounds,” said Heather levelly.
‘SMEG, I’m a pygmy! At just over four feet tall, and so light that I’ll have to put rocks in my pocket to keep from being blown away in a stiff breeze! I guess I’m going to have to get used to being carded again, since I’ll blend in with the eight year olds.’
‘Well maybe not. Not many eight year olds have wings, which I guess is kinda of a good thing. I mean, at least many of the other changelings and I still look human, more or less.’
‘The Dragons, thank smeg Azi isn’t here, minotaurs, centaurs, mer-folk, and others were going to have a tough time. Prejudice is something I don’t think we will ever get rid of and I doubt that unless a miracle happens, we’re going to be struck this way. Cosmetic surgery will help some but what can you do for a mer-folk that has a dolphin’s flukes?’
With that in mind, “Heather, it’s really not as bad as what happening to the others is it?”
She shook her head sadly, “Every time they‘ve tried to stop the transformation, the victim always dies. We lost a teenager who was transforming into a half-giant. We just couldn’t get enough nutrients into her to keep pace with the changes. It just used her up.”
“What made me so mad, was one of those damn bureaucrats actually asked why we were trying to keep IT alive!” Heather venomously spat with her prominent ears twitching.
I held her hand, “So, it’s starting already?”
Heather gestured angrily yes, “At least one of the UN doctors tore into him because of it!“
Hearing the frustration and anger, I tried to change the subject, “You know that there’s some sort of intelligence behind this. Otherwise, I should have ended up that bird-brain I was worried about.”
“I wonder why my change was so measured, when some others are not. Why would my virus act more intelligently than someone else’s,” I mused.
Heather looked thoughtful, but shrugged her shoulders when my eye caught on Jil who had been watching me because of the lack of enough of the proper equipment.
Thinking about some of the testing we did at the warehouse before the equipment was shipped out, I asked, “Do the medical wands produce any sort of electro-magnetic field Heather?”
She shook her head, “No more than any electronic device. Besides, everyone got scanned when admitted, but not everyone is having problems.”
Struggling to complete my half conceived thought, “No, but if I remember correctly, they can interfere with some sorts of communications. If this virus is in communication with each of its “colonies” in each of us, it would be designed more to blend into the background for stealth than for power-output. That being said, the EM might keep a colony isolated from the rest of the network and therefore, “dumber.””
Heather gave me a considering look, “Are you sure you were just a warehouse worker?”
I gave her a smile, “Sister, working in a warehouse was what I did, not who I am. In the game with millions of players, my avatar is one of the top spies in play. If I do say so myself, I am one sneaky bitch!”
“The odds are someone already thought of this, but because of some smegging foul-up, or smegging National Security reason the doctors haven’t been told,” I told Heather.
“Well, I’ll pass it on, just in case.” she said and left. A short time later a UN doctor and a “suit” came in to ask me some questions after chasing Jil away for a while.
I don’t know what they were fishing for, but it was just short of an interrogation. They asked about what I had suggested to Heather, and I told them I was an avid Sci-fi reader.
I read the fantasy stuff, too, but it was the “hard stuff” that I really enjoyed, fiction written by real scientists like Doc Taylor, and others about theories and issues that had been discovered during the last fifty years.
Because of that, I had as good a layman’s understanding of various disciplines as any graduate with a general education, and better than most, despite the high school graduate level education on my resume.
They asked about a couple of companies, and I told them that some I had heard of, and others my company did business with sometimes. The two of them didn’t seem satisfied with my answers, but I honestly didn’t know anything more.
The “suit” took me off guard when he asked about some projects named Hecatocheires and Briareus. I told him that Hecati-something wasn’t familiar, but Briareus was from Greek myth, I thought.
He then changed tactics and wanted to know about the “Sword Point” web-cast and the situation with Galidor. I told him what had happened, but didn’t add that I had seen Galidor earlier with the MIBs.
He pointedly asked what I did in response and I told him that Galidor had either hacked my PC or the Dragon’s Gate server to get my ID. Paranoid about that, I had upgraded my firewall.
If that wasn’t enough, he grilled me about the other players, as well, but I told him that Azi was the only one I knew well since we had played as partners so long. With that he pressed me about ever meeting Azi in the flesh, but I told him we hadn’t. We had talked a lot on chat, but that was it.
Not content with that, he wanted to know if we sent files to each other, and I told him yes, we did, but it was usually game related. More confused than ever over what they were looking for, I kept to the truth, despite my little devil voice telling me to have a little fun with them. Somehow, I didn’t think they would enjoy the humor!
Finally, they let Jil back in and she applied some more of that salve to my feverishly hot developing wings. “What was all that about?” she asked.
I could see my young friend was concerned about me and it was a new feeling. Because of how badly my family had taken my news, I had stayed away from others because of fear of not being accepted because of my differences. An on-line relationship in a game is not a substitute for a smile and hug!
“Jil I don’t know. I think it may be just plain bureaucratic paranoia. If you’re not panicking like they are, it must be your fault, I guess,” I told her.
Heather took that moment to walk in and I could tell she was a little worried too. I made a gesture of “about so high and so wide” and held up two fingers while pointing at my eyes.
Being quick on the uptake, Heather nodded. Not wanting anything smelly landing on my new friends, I whispered to her, “Heather, if you don’t want Jil here, I understand. I don’t know why everyone is so interested in me, but I don’t want you two hurt.”
Shaking her head, she whispered back, “Here, she is at least with a friend, and that is better than back with the others. If anything goes wrong, it’s better she’s here where your watchers will be protection, as well as being annoying”
Looking at Jil, Heather said, “OK, young lady, let me see your hand.”
Jil curiously held out her hand and then jerked it back when she saw the box in her mother’s grip. “Mom! NO! Those are for little kids,” she objected loudly.
Thankful for the distraction while the salve did its cooling work, I was lying on my side because of the “hunch back” and my tender breasts. I raised a questioning eyebrow.
Jil spoke up before her mom could, “It’s a little kid’s ID tracer.”
Heather showed me the handheld unit, and not being a parent, I’d never seen one in person before. Using an invisible ink, it printed out a simple circuit of a homing beacon right on the skin, or on to a band-aid like pad.
There were services that monitored the beacon 24/7 or if using the pad, it would activate if removed. That little box had reduced the number of missing kids, but as they got older it was hard to get them to wear it, like was in Jil’s case.
“One of the army nurses got fed up with trying to keep track of all the kids. It was becoming a problem, because mom and dad didn’t look like mom and dad anymore. In an effort to keep families from getting separated she got someone to raid a store for a load of the trackers.” Heather said, while trying to coax Jil closer.
Jil having none of it, refused, “Mom!”
“I know you’re not a child anymore, but a teenager, and yes, I do trust you. But you’re not a boy anymore, and now that you’re a girl, you have a whole new set rules that apply to you and you haven’t had the chance to learn them yet.” Heather reasoned with Jil.
“Please, just for a few days until things settle down?” she asked her daughter.
Seeing a chance to help, “Hey, Heather, I’m new at this girl stuff too. Do you have an extra?”
She smiled at me, “Seriously?”
“Yeah, then Jil and I could be kinda like sisters? Deal?” I asked her.
Reluctantly Jil agreed, “Deal, but only the pads!”
Heather printed out the band-aid like pads and once we got them stuck on to the back of our hands, they were smeg hard to see. The salve was really starting to work now and as it eased the discomfort enough, I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke in the night, when with a sudden sharp ripping pain, my wings emerged. There was a doctor, and I think Heather and Jil were there, too, but the blessed cooling relief of having the pain end was such that I was only half-aware.
I think someone ran a med wand over me and did an examination, but sleep was already claiming me.
‘What’s up with me and screaming?’ My eyes popped up and my new wings “flittered” knocking over a cup on a nearby table. Hey those are gunshots! Jil had her hands over her sensitive ears and was shaking like a scared kitten.
I wasn’t much better, because my Bug-Vision made everything seem as if the whole room was moving due to the concussive sound waves. Dazed, I pulled myself to Jil’s side to huddle together.
Although my hearing was improved too, it was the motion-detection from the Bug-vision that made each shot a blast of thunder that shook the world! We flinched as every crack of thunder brought it closer and closer until with a deafening rip of canvas the storm was upon us.
Huge black claws sliced though the top of our tent with ease. Through the tear I could see lines of fire arching towards us as a machine gun fired tracers into the figure towering above us.
Jil screamed, and together, both of us drove for the floor as our trusty cot was vivisected as the claws reached for us! Serpent-like, the clawed appendage struck and caught me in the pinch between the huge serrated knives. My silly inner voice overcame my panic when it proclaimed “Toe-Jammed”! Jill tried to come to my rescue by grabbing my hand and pulling me free.
Her effort was for naught, as a sword like claw brushed her aside. The breath was robbed from me as my kidnapper gave a tremendous leap and we were flying! Below me was a scene from some bad action movie with fires burning and flashes of gunfire. The difference was, they were shooting at me!
A body numbing blow slammed into my back and at last, confusion left me, along with consciousness.
With a jolt I opened my eyes all too aware of my throbbing back. I was lying on a wooden picnic table. Looking around me I saw it was still dark, but my Bug-Vision let me see as if it was brightly lit. I was outside of an RV, and my rumbling tummy made me aware of how hungry I was. A roar of wind made me forget all else but the large dark shape that my mind refused at first to identify, a dragon.
Its large dark wings cracked like sails finding the wind, as they furled themselves as it landed. One thing about Bug-Vision, is that there isn’t any color, but I knew that it had to be black.
The dragon reared its sedan sized head and looked me and my heart nearly skipped a beat. Hardly daring a breath, a single word escaped my lips, “Azi.”
A headlight sized eye winked, and the Dragon nestled on all fours. From its seemingly seamless back, a tall slim man detached himself and slid down the tail. Up to then the dragon had acted intelligently, but with that, it was more like an animal. The man grasped the dragon by its snout and led it to a grassy area where impossibly, it began to graze like a horse.
In a stage of shock I watched as the man came to me. He reminded me of the character of the prince from “The Prince of Persia, The Two Thrones.” In denial, I knew he must be my friend.
“Crystal, lets go inside. I’m sure you must have many questions,” the giant said to me. I still hadn’t even begun to become accustomed to being one the “little” people. I barely came to his sternum! The whole world was huge, and I was looking levelly at the door knob, for smeg’s sake!
The entire thing had a surrealistic edge to it, because of everything from my wings, to how huge the world was now. He went to a fridge and pulled out a mug that he put into a microwave.
Not knowing how or what to say, I stayed quiet as I took in my surroundings. Like with the Prince of Persia character, the RV was furnished in a rather over done Asian style. Noticeable was the state of the art computer equipment, which even included a tabletop holographic set.
Pulling myself up onto a chair, I was aware of my bruised back, craning around I tried to see how bad it was, but my smegging wings were in the way. It felt like if I had gotten punched in the back.
Azi bringing the mug to me, smiled, “Yes you are very difficult to harm now, my beautiful one. You were struck by one of the infidel’s bullets, but it struck your wing which is composed of a diamond-like nano-weave.”
Taking the mug with both hands from tall and dark, I wasn’t sure what it was. Oatmeal maybe, but it had been spiced heavily with honey, and normally I wouldn’t touch this dentist and dietitian’s nightmare, but I found myself eating it with abandon.
Looking up, Azi was amused by my lack of table manners, “Your metabolism has changed, and you’re going to need to eat more energy concentrated food, as well as eating more often.”
Tying to keep from licking the bottom of my mug, other unsettling changes made themselves known. My tongue was long enough to actually reach the bottom. It was a rude reminder of just how much I had been altered.
“Long have I patiently waited till the day when we finally could be together. Now the great plan is underway, and the Great Satan shall sow what it has reaped,” crowed tall and dark.
My silly inner voice was lamenting that my dear friend Azi was nuttier than a Mr. Good Bar! Painfully aware of how unable I was at this moment to defend myself, “Please tell me, Azi, that you didn’t have anything to do with causing all this nano-virus thing,” I pleaded with him.
“Have anything to do with it my dear love? I have worked for years to make it so,” he boasted.
I felt my spirits sink, for my at arm’s reach friendship with him, had been one of the cornerstones of my lonely life. Now the masks were gone, I didn’t like what I found at all. Even less, his terms of “endearment” seemed to mean he saw our relationship as a lot more than just an on-line friendship.
Like out of a cheesy movie he monologued, “For five years I have labored on their Project Hecatoncheires in violation of the Sri Lanka Accords. By their research in nano-technology distributed artificial intelligence, they have flouted International Law and broken agreements they signed. Supposedly for defensive purposes, but obviously in a pursuit for power at the expense of international consensus”
“I have broken their Briareus, the bodyguard for the pagan God Zeus, for I have released the Seals of Solomon. The Afrit is loose and he answers my will! Now everyone will know of the Great Satan’s great plot against all mankind.”
“The blundering infidels never did discover me, but instead found out though the carelessness of my brothers in faith. Even knowing that a true believer stood in their midst, they never suspected me. It wasn’t until they traced the data to you, Crystal, that wisdom began to dawn on them.” Azi’s dark face beamed.
“ME?” I squeaked!
“Yes,” beloved, “I sent the data in a virus to you, coded in our chats, and during play, the virus would send the data to my brothers.”
A part of me truly grieved for the person I had long believed to be my best friend, because he could keep a team of “shrinks” busy for years, but involving ME in this treason? “Azi are you out of your ever-loving mind? You have just committed an Act of War against the United States, or at the very least, an act of terrorism. What are you going to do, flap your way to Persia?” I shouted at him while waving at the décor.
He stood there seemingly impassive, but that didn’t slow me! “No one’s going to forget anyone at all connected with this, EVER! Thousands of people have had their lives disrupted, if not changed forever, because of this! Some have been changed in some smegging horrible ways! Smeg knows how many have died so far!”
Azi’s ears were deaf to me. He was acting very odd, but what about all of this, wasn’t bizarre.
“I am Bahadur Azi Dahaka dragon warrior of the Mountains of the Summer Snows. Dakon is the body, but I am the mind. With my interface jacks, courtesy of the infidels together we ARE the dragon. Yes, we WILL fly to Persia, and the might of the infidels shall be as dust upon the wind against a warrior of the true faith! Once in the arms of my brothers, I shall have praises raised to my name, and you shall be my wife!
Leaving me with my mouth gaping wide, he turned away, “I shall now go and prepare for our epic journey.”
I sat there as he exited the RV, wondering how in the smeg I had gotten into this mess. Visions of Air Force F-22C Super-Raptor fighters turning both of us into hamburger was running though my head, dragon- 0, air force- 2, final score folks!
Looking for a way out of this, I searched the RV for some kind of radio or telephone. There was plenty of equipment, but nothing I could call out on. Then, I remembered Heather’s kid tracker. Searching my hand, I found nothing, but then recalled Jil. I thought she was trying to pull me free, but gently rubbing where the patch had been, I think she was really activating the beacon! Smart kid!
At least I knew why the feds were so interested in me now and why Galidor had been on my case. They must’ve been trying to force “us” to do something, if “our” link to his brothers were in danger of being cut, thinking I was a part of this insanity!
Trying to make my poor overloaded brain work, I knew that the marines would be dropping on us smegging soon. They would be out for blood, and even if we got airborne, I could see no way to survive between the ‘rock’ of the marines and the ‘falling anvils’ of the air force.
On the other hand, the secret to reversing this smegging thing might be either in the RV or in Azi’s head. The marines might be able to take him alive, but the air force would chew us into dragon and fairy sushi! ‘OK, I’ve got to keep us on the ground for as long as I can.’
While looking for some way to warn everyone, I had found some clothes that evidently Azi had provided for me. They were a little childish, but at least they fit. From somewhere he had found a serape like cape for me since jackets won't fit me now with the wings. Did it have to have to be pink with a fur collar, oh please!
Peering out of the RV curtains I could see Azi fussing with the dragon. Carefully I opened the door a little, dismayed at the effort. It wasn’t that I was a lot weaker now, but more because of the lack of leverage from lost height, or so I told myself.
Trying to be quiet I edged myself out and sneaked around the corner of the RV. I could see from the lightening sky it would be dawn soon, but I didn’t see any place to run to. Thinking we were maybe in a park or campground, I made for what I thought was the west from the rising sun.
I wasn’t making good time, but at least I was putting some distance between us. My change of height and mass made me very awkward. I was having to re-learn how to walk all over again, and the wings kept “springing” out whenever I started to fall.
I’m telling you, sister, that it took some getting used to! My silly inner voice was urging me to see if I could fly, but I knew that I just didn’t have time to waste. Better the sure thing than trying to play Tinkerbell.
That was until Azi appeared in front of me! I turned to run, but barely made a half dozen steps before he caught me. My smegging legs were just too smegging short!
“Crystal you should have realized that with the Afrit under my command I can find you no matter where you are. I should have remembered how spirited you are my beloved!” Azi said while grasping my shoulder.
“If you are awaiting the arrival of the cavalry you will be disappointed for my Afrit found all of the tracers that they planted on you and devoured them. Come my love, is a fate as my wife such a horror?” he asked.
I shouted at him, “I’ll settle for the marines!” Eerily on cue, Azi flew backwards with a spray of blood as part of his head exploded! Expecting to die as well, I ran to Azi because no matter how crazy he had become he had once been my friend.
Like a bad Quentin Tarantino film as I watched the crown of his bloody head try and “knit” itself back together, but the wound and blood loss were winning. Trying not to choke on my own gorge I could “see” into his brains and could make out the shattered remains of his interface socket.
Somehow, he was still alive. Like he had said, the Afrit had made us hard to kill. My inner voice added, “And prolong the agony too.”
With my Bug-Vision I was aware of men in camouflage running towards us with weapons, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from my broken friend.
Impossibly, Azi looked at me as if seeing me for the first time!
“Crystal?” he softly questioned.
“I’m here Azi,” fighting the tears and my conflicted feelings.
“I’m free now. It’s gone now Crystal, I’m free,” as his eyes lost focus, but somehow found mine again.
The struggle of the nanites to repair that terrible wound was now clearly lost as “knitting” slowed and began to stop.
“Is it really you my friend?” he asked and I nodded my head as the storm of armed men stopped and circled us.
“Don’t trust him Crystal, don’t…” was the last words of Bahadur Azi Dahaka, dragon warrior of the Mountains of the Summer Snows.
Looking up, I found the face of Galidor looking down at me and finally I failed to hold my tears inside as they flowed from me to mix with the blood of my friend.
The next few hours were a blur. Soldiers and MIBs asked me question after question, but I had few answers. I was aware that Galidor of all people seemed to screen me from the worse abuses, but it was hard for me to care because I was full of tears.
The hours turned into days and somewhere along the way my interrogators got the idea that I didn’t know any more than what I had already told them. They were clearly looking for a scapegoat, but again it was Galidor who pointed out they had found a confession from Rebecca that clearly pointed out that I had been just a cats-paw in all of this.
“Rebecca,” my fuzzed brain asked, “Who is she?”
“Rebecca Saks was Azi’s real name, Crystal” replied Galidor
I think my confusion convinced them more than anything else, “Azi was a SHE?”
“She was a researcher for the Briareus Project,” Galidor told me, “She got past all the security checks, but two years ago we found someone had been leaking secrets. We followed the traces back to you, but never could prove Rebecca was passing them to you.”
“I was added to your group to try and find how it was done. I’m sorry about our little quarrel, but my bosses thought if we threatened to reveal you it would make you react to protect the link,” Galidor informed me.
Numbly, “He, I mean she, said that it was sent in a virus during our pre-game chats and then during play it would transmit out over my bandwidth.”
Strangely comforting, Galidor softly said, “I know. We found the confession, but there are many things that just don’t add up here. Anything you can tell us to clear this up would help, but I’m going to see about having you released.”
The other two in the room clearly didn’t like that, but it seemed he had some official pull, because the next day they let me go. I didn’t know where they were taking me, but once I saw Heather I couldn’t help myself but to throw myself into her arms and my endless tears flowed again.
While I’d been interrogated by the FBI, Heather told me that they had found a way of lobotomizing the nano-colonies in all the afflicted by keeping them communicating with each other. No way had been found of reversing the effects and the changes go all the way to the DNA level.
It seemed that the computing power of some sixty thousand nano-colonies plus the computing power of their hosts that they had borrowed could come up with some astonishing results.
It also was found that the nano-colonies, while not joined together as a MEGA-computer, was still smart enough to set it up so if the “colony” was destroyed the host would soon follow. The good news was since severed from the “net-work” the nanos weren’t infecting anyone else.
Faced with executing some sixty thousand citizens, the science geeks came up with a simple detector that we would wear that would alert everyone, if the nanties went active again. The bad news was that it looked just like those “house” arrest bracelets that the parolees wear. Well, it wasn’t house arrest, but we had to notify our ‘caseworker’ if we traveled past a certain distant. At any rate it was better than imprisoned or dead.
They then let us go home. I didn’t have to worry about my stuff disappearing from my trailer because almost as soon as I left, Galidor and friends had searched it. Miracle of miracles, they had even locked the door behind themselves.
Heather’s husband Terry was back and I could see he wasn’t sure about his houseful of elves now. She wanted me to stay with them for a few days, but I begged off, assuring her I would be fine.
I had a small bag of clothing that mostly fit me and that was it. When I walked in the door, I was glad that I was a neat housekeeper for the most part. The only real clutter I had was at my computer desk.
I was intent on checking my backlog of emails, when the screen saver I downloaded, in what seemed like another lifetime ago, came to life. As I watched Azi and myself flying though the clouds, I sat down on my sofa crying for the fantasy that had been my friend.
Rebecca was having a closed casket funeral, but in truth the government had incinerated her remains. I wanted to attend and Heather helped me find an outfit that worked fairly well. When we arrived, I was aware of the protesters and cops outside, but it was the eyes inside that seemed to bore into me.
From the hostility I felt, I got the impression that Rebecca’s friends and family somehow blamed me for the tragedy. At least I wasn’t alone, since Galidor and the other players had shown as well.
For the first time I met Darius, Rain and Balathzar in the real world instead of in a game. Darius was a slim, polished older guy who was a lawyer, and Rain was a rather dumpy accounting major in her senior year. Balathzar was a slender boy from France and a student studying mathematics.
Throughout the funeral, I saw that one of Rebecca’s friends in particular was giving me a serious evil eye. Finally I asked, “Galidor, who is she?” since he seemed to know everyone here, I guess as part of the case.
What I found bothered me, bothered me a lot, because he said, “She’s Helen Parton, Rebecca’s dominant former lover.”
“Rebecca was a lesbian? I asked surprised. I mean often times transgenders will be attracted to the same gender like a homosexual, but sometimes to the opposite gender as well. That was part of the confusion about it all. If I’m really a girl inside, shouldn’t I be attracted to guys?
“What was with the dominant part?” I wanted to know from him.
“It’s what Helen and the rest of her friends told us,” Galidor said. “She and Helen had been together until about two years ago.”
Oh great, I was the other woman. I got a few more evil looks when I laid a Dragon origami I’d made from plans I got from the web on her casket. Smeg it, Rebecca or Azi it didn’t matter! ‘Good bye my friend, may you find peace at your journey’s end, I wished with all my heart.’
Despite my best effort, I did mope about after the funeral and to my surprise I still had a job. Some of my co-workers had bullied the office staff into providing a newer lighter handheld computer that was better suited to my smaller stature.
Heather and Jil became regular visitors to my humble trailer and I owe them a lot for helping me learn how to FLY! We laid out some mats and Jil tethered me like an oversized June bug.
I had been a little concerned about being able to reach things, but found it really wasn’t a problem. It was a little difficult at first because some of the engineers were more than a little fascinated by the design that let me fly, but I got them to build a few little aids for me to let me reach everything and repaid them with air shows during lunch after I learned how to fly.
It was a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. I couldn’t stay airborne for more than a few minutes, but what a wild time it was! The other part was it seemed I was always eating, and Heather gave me a few envious looks at the sweets I went through without gaining an ounce.
Bob began talking about restarting the ’cast with a storyline that let Azi’s character retire in glory, and I supported that. The News had all painted Rebecca as a crazed terrorist who couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy. I wanted a better legacy for my friend.
That was got me to thinking about her last words, “Don’t trust him, I’m free.” Don’t trust who, free from what? It was just one more questions for which I didn’t have an answer.
I keep telling people that what I do for work is not who I am. Of course, I like to think of myself more of the ‘fairy mistress of spies’. This mess just had too many questions for me to let go.
It didn’t help that while working on the storyline for Bob, I couldn’t get the real story out of my mind, and frankly, none of it made any sense. Why release the nanites at all? Why use a MMORPG as some sort of template for the transformations? What was the deal with the dragon thing, besides it just looking cool?
Part of it I got. Uncle Sam had been breaking agreements to develop self-replicating nano-intelligences. The goal was to expose the truth, and maybe make some money on the side, from those unfriendly to the said Uncle.
Hecatoncheires in Greek myth my research revealed were three huge giants with fifty heads and a hundred arms who was immensely strong. Not a bad code name for a Nano-tech project and one of them Briareus was Zeus's (king of the Greek Gods) bodyguard.
Azi’s behavior still seemed insane, but if you used the money angle as a motivation, it made a good demonstration of the nano being able to attack and transform very specific targets in extremely specific ways. In this case, just gamers in a single data base had been transformed into a variety of human and non-human forms.
The thing was nanties didn't attack like guided missiles or something. Nano-tech is more viral-like in its growth. Like a virus, once you had it, you would contaminate every thing you touched and even anyone breathing near you would catch it too.
The major difference was the smegging things could move under their own power toward a new victim. Viruses didn't move on the door knob to get you. Alright, so, more like a parasite looking for a host.
Okay, in all likelihood what it did was infect everyone and then Mr. Mega-computer determined which colony was in whom, and gave instructions to begin the changes or go inactive. Smeg, that could mean everyone that believed they had gotten away unaffected had a smegging time-bomb waiting inside themselves!
Ok, the dragon thing seems like plain old megalomania, despite how I love to fly and think as fantasy creatures, they are cool. Except in Azi’s case where it was a direct link back to the Middle East where many of those not so friendly to our uncle reside, because Bahadur Azi Dahaka actually means something like dragon first class in Farsi, or so I’m told.
It took me several days, but there were some things that I had to know. I called Helen Parton, Rebecca’s ex-lover. Tracking her down and getting her to talk to me were difficult, but when I pleaded I was trying to understand what had happened, and how it didn’t make any sense, she did grudgingly agree to meet with me.
Our meeting left me really confused! It seemed Rebecca hadn’t had any transgender tendencies, according to Helen. Even more so, when she confirmed that Rebecca tended to be submissive in their relationship. Helen was just as hurt and upset as I was. She told me how two years ago for no reason she could find, Rebecca kicked her out of their small ranch.
That I picked up on! “You’re saying she started acting out of character two years ago?”
After thinking about it Helen said, “Yes, it was definitely out of character.”
That jibes with the time the FBI first became aware of the security beach, but not when the breach first occurred. Whoa!
Helen and I didn’t become friends, but at least I think she stopped burning effigies of me. I promised if I came up with anything that I would let her know.
I was still wrestling with what I knew so far. We have information and designs being sent out over the web, but no actual hardware changing hands. The FBI had to be looking into a money trail, so where did that leave me?
Jil and I were out doing a little archery using a makeshift range we had set up behind our trailers. I would practice flying by retrieving her spent arrows. Sometimes, some of her friends would join her, but mostly it was just us.
She and Heather had become almost like family to me and when Jil and my relationship began changing, I was concerned that she had a “crush” on me!
Talking with Heather about it, she laughed and said, “I don’t think so.”
A little hurt at being laughed at, “What’s so funny about it?” I asked her.
Heather gestured me to come with her and she lead me upstairs to her bedroom with its full length mirror. “Strip” she said.
With my hurt turning to embarrassment, I still felt shy about the nudity thing, but I trusted Heather, so I did so.
She made a point of not staring, but pointed to the mirror, “What do you see?”
Looking into the mirror I saw how short I was next to Heather and of course my wings which were nearly as long as I was tall. They were kinda like a dragonfly’s, but with some of the characteristics of damselflies. The only reason I could walk without tripping on them was because at rest they were “over-swept”, crossing over each other.
I shared very similar general features with Heather, elfish, but I also had the tallish fronds of my antenna. Chilled, I crossed my arms over my breasts, “So?”
She giggled, “You are so much like a girl that I forget sometimes that you ever were a guy! I should’ve done this some time ago, but you kept fooling me. Crystal, I mean really look, how old do you look?”
Biting back a retort, I did as she asked. I see myself as an adult, short, but an adult although there had been a few problems here and there. I mostly took them as the prejudice that all of us changelings were starting to dealing with. It was worse than years back with the AIDS thing, when everyone was concerned about being infected.
I really didn’t want to do this, but standing there with nothing to hide behind, left me little choice. What I saw was a rather cute girl who could pass for between eight and ten years old with rather prominent breasts. They weren’t that big, but as small as I was they looked huge. Not a miniature adult, but a child with breasts and wings! No way could I pass for an adult!
Heather softly pointed out, “Crystal, you are a dear, but you just don’t look at all like the pictures Jil has hidden under her bed. Both of you are exploring something new to you and it’s my guess she sees you more as a little sister and friend, not a romantic interest.”
I was back into a funk as I got dressed, but I gave Heather a warm hug and went home to think. It kept me up that night and the next day. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I called Helen back and although she was still cool towards me, I think she accepted that I had loved Rebecca as a friend.
“Please don’t be offended, but I thought of something that may help clear Rebecca‘s name,” I told Helen.
“Ok, if it’s going to bring out the truth.”.
Taking a deep breath I asked, “What kind of women was Rebecca attracted to?”
Taken aback, Helen said, “Well, she seemed to like athletic women who could share her hobbies of horseback riding and hiking. I told you about the submissive thing last time, but that was for intimate occasions, other than that just a companion to partner with. What’s with all this?”
“Well, Helen,” I said, “Part of the government’s case is in her confession she gave while talking to me in her RV. She told me I was to be a wife. Why do I look like an overdeveloped ten year old, if I was to be a wife? I don’t even look very much like my Crystal avatar, if you don’t count my face and wings. More to the point, Rebecca wasn’t into child porn, nor was she transgendered. This is almost like some bigot’s pre-conceived notions of what a lesbian is like.” I told her.
“Helen, I don’t have all the pieces yet, but I think it is time to shift our focus from how could Rebecca have done this, to who else could have. The problem is, we still don’t have any concrete proof. It’s all circumstantial.”
“It’s a start,” she told me, and the strength of her voice let me know that I had an ally.
We promised to keep in touch if any one of us thought of something else. That evening I had a nightmare. Unable to go back to sleep, I worked on The Dragon’s Gate story for Azi. I sent off what I had in an email to Bob, who was also still up.
He wanted me to stop by to see some animation that he had been working on for the ’cast. After realizing just how much like a child I looked now, I really didn’t want to go out much, but I felt I owed it to my friend. I wrote back, “I’ll try and make it over this week.”
Bob wrote back, “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”
I’m not sure how long I just sat there looking at that message.
A little hesitant at first, but growing in determination, I typed in my data query. I still had Bob’s privacy waiver from when he’d first applied for our ’cast producer position and I used it to aid my search.
I knew he had attended MIT, so I started there, looking for what he had majored in as well as what his thesis had been about. The problem was, once I found it, I had to do additional searches to try and understand the significance of what I had just read.
Bob’s thesis was on using the human brain as a model for AI programs, and there was nothing new about that. What was of note, was that he had been working on not just improving computer based intelligences, but on replicating specific human personalities in a digital environment.
It didn’t take long for a sci-fi fan like me to catch onto that he had been working on a combination of uploading a persona into a program, and the old idea of recording a personality for later use. Paranoia reminded me that Rebecca had had a neural interface jack and her saying that she was free after it had been destroyed.
His thesis had never never been completed, because he got arrested. Strangely, not only was there no record of what he had been charged with, they had been dismissed when he had dropped out of MIT. That just reeked of some sort of deal being cut.
He then started working for a little known medical research center where he stayed for ten years, but left after the company unexpectedly closed. That’s when he’d showed up in Silicon Valley just in time to take our position as producer.
I didn’t get much sleep that night either, but eventually I made a decision. Printing out my suspicions, I gathered everything I had into a package. One last bit of research and I called into work to ask for some time off. Things were still getting back to normal, but business was slow, even though to our customers’ confidence was slowly returning.
Then, it was a call to Heather to ask for a ride downtown to the Federal building. I could hear the question in her voice, but I didn’t dare say anything over the phone.
The valley had been having an usually wet year so far, so our ride was accompanied by the thumbing of her car wipers as I told her that Galidor had told me if I thought of anything, to contact him. She knew me well enough to know that there was a lot I wasn’t saying, but she didn’t press me on it. As I got out, I asked, “Would you mail this package for me while you’re waiting? I shouldn’t be long.
Heather gave her assent, so into the lion’s mouth I ventured, with my trusty umbrella as my only weapon. My heels clicked on the polished floor. I had taken to wearing them to make up some of my lost height and dressing as maturely as I could to help fight the “child” look I had now.
I got to the information desk and pulled out the card Galidor had given me. It didn’t take him long to show up. His curiosity was plain on his face as I told him, “I’ve thought of a few things. Can I talk to you for a few moments? I can’t stay long, because I have someone waiting for me.”
“Sure, right this way.” He led me inside to an office. “Do you mind if I ask another agent to listen in?” Galidor asked.
Thinking about it I replied, “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
He called in a female agent who identified herself as agent Goodsby. “Are you still going by Crystal?” Galidor asked me.
“Yes I am for now. Do you mind if I call you Frank?” I smiled.
He looked surprised, “You figured that out? I apologize about that. We did believe you were actively involved somehow.”
Agent Goodsby snorted, seeming to imply that she wasn’t sure I still wasn’t somehow.
“Before we get started, do you mind if I asked why you deliberately missed killing the baron’s captain of guards? If you had wanted to simply stop the treaty, shooting anyone would have worked, but you with that smegging bow of death, shot to wound, why?” I asked.
Agent Goodsby rolled her eyes in the age old manner of someone who just didn’t get the attraction of gaming, but Galidor chuckled.
“I was wondering if that had gotten by you, Crystal. Captain Hardin is an old friend of mine and we were working together to get him out of the baron’s service, but also to give him an alibi and reason to get closer to the duke” the incongruously suit-dressed elf said.
“So placing an assassin close to the Duke was more important than the alliance with the prince and barons?” I questioned.
“No matter how many of the nobles you allied with, he wouldn’t back down. It would have led to a huge war and terrible battles. We decided to try and sidestep that.” Frank told me.
“Well that answers that question, but I have another for you. What do you want from all of this, Frank?” I asked
“I want to catch whoever is responsible for this and see them pay for it.”
Looking disgusted, I made a rude buzzer noise, “You want to catch the bad guys and win one for truth, justice, mom and apple pie. Wrong answer Frank! What you want is the activation codes for the millions of inactive nano colonies that didn’t go active when ours did. I’ll bet that everyone that was evacuated was subjected to an electro-magnetic field to try and disable them, but I’ll also wager that the project designed them to be difficult to find and deactivate when inactive.” I couldn’t help enjoying myself now that I had their attention.”
As they turned away, I made a rude gesture at their backs. Looking around I saw Heather hurrying over to me looking worried.
“Crystal! What in the world is going on?” she asked.
With a nasty look at the building, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
It was a tense ride back home, but I offered to take her to lunch while Jil was still in classes, and that eased the tension somewhat. Afterward, we did a little shopping and I managed to ease more of Heather's discomfort about the morning’s events.
Sometimes, I think the worse part of my being a changeling is that now I’m female I still can’t wear the beautiful clothes I desire, but must shop in the kid’s department. I did feel a little guilty at dipping into my “special” savings, but since I was stuck this way, I might as well make the best of it. It also gave me the opportunity to make some purchases at Radio Shack.
When Heather invited me over for supper that night, I accepted. I enjoyed my time with her family, even if her husband Terry was still in a mild state of shock at the changes in his little kingdom, with the females suddenly outnumbering the males.
That night I had a hard falling asleep, but eventually I reached a kind of peace that let me relax. Not wanting Heather anywhere near where I needed to go this morning, if my suspicions were correct, I decided to brave the public transportation system.
Wearing one of my serapes, and carrying my umbrella, I dressed for comfort more than for appearance. My sneakers were ones I both hated and liked at the same time. They fit and were comfortable, but I really did hate the Barbie motif!
The ride was an uncomfortable one with all the side glances and the way people shied away from me after they realized that I wasn’t a child, but a changeling. Feeling like a leper, I was relieved when my stop came up.
Bob worked out of his house and had turned a two car garage into a computer studio. A sign outside on his lawn advertised his consulting firm.
I planted my umbrella outside and knocked on the studio door. If I had played my cards right Bob would have just gotten to sleep three or four hours ago and that should give me an advantage, I hoped!
When he opened the door, I could see by his disheveled hair that my guess was correct. Bob was a changeling as well, but instead of being transformed into a creature, he had become an avatar that showed up as a non-playing character, a mage and seer, on several of our quests.
Once you knew where to look, the evidence only confirmed my theory. He had lost his balding overweight body and now had one that was slim and athletic as well as ten years younger. I suppose he thought no one would pay any attention to him because he wasn’t a player and shouldn’t have changed at all.
“Hello Bob? I’m not too early am I? I know I should have called first, but I was in the area and wanted to make the most of my day off.” I gave my best smile, hoping it didn’t look too forced.
Half-asleep he might be, but never stupid. I could see his mind working as he waved me inside his workshop. It was cluttered with computer and electronic equipment. He even had an old pair of Sony ’bots working on some gear and cleaning. Bob smiled as he gestured for me to sit down, but his smile faded when he saw the expression on my face.
I spread my wings wide like that of a dragonfly, holding them as rigid as I could. “Like what you see Bob? You have a thing for little girls?” I said nastily, and rudely gestured at my breasts, “Well except for the knockers.”
He sat down in a huff and pushed some buttons at his desk’s keyboard. “What is wrong with you, Crystal? Why would you say such things to me? I haven’t done anything to you. It was all that crazy Rebecca’s fault,” Bob said calmly.
My silly inner voice couldn’t help crowing, ‘It’s show time!’ I admit that playing a game doesn’t help you develop the best people skills. The web cameras really do require what could be called “over-acting” to just look normal in the context of the game.
I, however, have my Bug-Vision, that makes me very sensitive to my surroundings and lets me pick up that he wasn’t upset or concerned at all. I suppose it was a little like Superman or Daredevil being able to hear “heartbeats of liars” kind of thing.
“I think that you have done more than enough, Bob, and that’s just the stuff I know about,” I told him.
“Crystal, I can see that you’re upset. Maybe you should leave.” Bob said while typing.
Ignoring him, I went on, “You really only made one mistake Bob. To give you credit, it could have been one of your AI’s that slipped up.”
Bob looked down at me. Even sitting down, he was taller than me, “That’s right, Bob, Artificial Intelligences, real honest to god, right out of science fiction. We were always amazed that you could ride herd on so many AMs and have so few problems, but that’s because they weren’t AMs, are they Bob?”
“Doesn’t it get a little confusing having so many of YOU around, Bob?” I asked.
One of his Sony ‘bots rolled behind me and said, “I wouldn’t say that, Crystal.”
Even expecting it, I still jumped. Labeling it in my mind as Mini-Bob one, “I would have thought that someone as egoistical as Bob wouldn’t be able to stand more than one of himself.”
Bob sighed, “I believe you were laying out our mistakes, Crystal, before you started insulting me.”
The other Sony ‘bot was rolling up in front of me, but I was doing my best to not let the butterflies in my gut get the best of me, “Azi never, ever in the five years we adventured and chatted together, called me “beautiful”. You, however, in three years have called me beautiful, literally thousands of times”
The other ’bot said, “That’s supposed to prove what?” as it held a scan wand and used it on me. Alrighty then, that makes this one Mini-Bob two.
“It proved nothing Bob, but you see, it made me think that when Azi told me on Changing Day that I was “Beautiful”, that maybe it wasn’t Azi at all. Then, I remembered his dying words “I’m free” and “Don’t trust HIM” that made me look at you and try to figure out if Azi had been controlled somehow.”
Mini-Bob two’s pincer shot out and grabbed the cell-phone I had left on a open line, while Mini-Bob one’s pincer crushed the little music player recorder I bought at Radio Shack. MB two then rolled up to the work table and picked up a bottle.
Bob looking disquieted, “You surprised me with that kid tracer. We were monitoring the channels the Feds used, but didn’t think about the public channels. They showed up way before they were scheduled to. If everything had gone to plan, she would have never had the chance to tell you that little tidbit. I have to keep remembering not to underestimate you.”
“Bob, I keep telling everyone that what I do isn’t who I am. Why should you be any different?” I asked him.
MB two returned, and in a lightning fast snip cut my shoelaces while the other pincer grabbed my shoe. “Your shoe or your foot, Crystal?” it threatened.
Trying to look surprised, I complied with the shoe.
“Now Crystal, using that kid tracer worked once, but not twice. Besides, I know from “the Game” that you always do things in threes. Now you were saying?” Bob said with an arrogant grin.
“It was your thesis, Bob, that pointed the way. Knowing that you were working on not just a type of smarter AM, but a method of uploading and storing human personalities also meant that, once in the system, it can be “edited,” ergo mind control.” I told him.
“Then you had go and do something stupid, I’m guessing pedophilia or maybe underage sex, given how you remade me. Tell me, was that where the spooks recruited you, or was it blackmail?”
There was a little sting as the solvent Mini-Bob two sprayed onto the bottom of my foot dissolved the high end kid tracer that also had a record function. “We all have our eccentricities, Crystal” it said as it mangled my Barbie sneaker with the other tracer concealed in it.
Looking defeated, but defiant, I asked, “So now what, Bob? You found my recorders, but unlike poor Rebecca I don’t have an interface plug you can use to control me.”
“Why did you visit the FBI yesterday, Crystal?” Mini-Bob one demanded. “We couldn’t find a recording of your visit. What did you tell them?”
“Wait! You got into the FBI?” I asked.
Mini-Bob one spoke up, “The only way to keep us out of anywhere is to not have connections to the web, but everything is linked to everywhere now. That is how we have been getting past the research security, Crystal. Rebecca was just a red herring to throw everyone off the track”
“You think I’m stupid or something Bob? I told them everything I know, but they wouldn’t believe me. The bureaucrats wanted a scapegoat and you gave them Rebecca, case closed. They threw me out, the smeggers. If I had gotten the FBI involved, do you really believe I would risk coming here to try to entrap you?” I said, looking nervous.
Bob shook his head, “I’m so sorry you poked your nose into this. If you had left things alone you never would’ve known, and everything would have been perfect.”
“Poked my nose? You smegger! I almost had enough savings to become the woman I should’ve been in the first place, but no, YOU had to go and transform me into some bizarre pedophile’s love doll!
If that wasn’t enough, I can’t alter it, because your smegging nanites will stop any other transformations or even reverse cosmetic surgery and, if we try and get rid of the smegging things, they suicide, taking me with them!
“So you bet your smegging ass that my nose is in it! In no way is your image of perfection anywhere near my definition of perfect! On top of that, you frame my best friend for your crap after ruining her life and transforming her into some mockery of your own prejudices,” I spat angrily at the assemblage of Bob’s.
“Well, Crystal, I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you. You’re right, you don’t have an interface socket and that’s good news for you. The bad news is I don’t need one!” he gloated and dramatically pressed a key.
I couldn’t move! My silly inner voice gleefully pointed out that I didn’t have to worry about keeping my wings rigid anymore! That didn’t do much for the rest of me, which was trying to hyperventilate, faint and scream all at the same time.
Mini-Bob one and two rolled silently away from me now that Bob had frozen me in place. He, however had more to say, “What, Crystal? No more smart-ass remarks?”
He mimed listening for a reply which of course I couldn’t make because the smegger had me locked in place! If I could’ve moved, it wouldn’t have helped me, because he was double my height now, and five times my weight!
“Crystal, you have a nano-node inside you and all I needed to do was provide the right way and codes to talk to it. The Feds did disable the communications protocols, but using the scan wands I can talk right to the node.
It is building the necessary components in your beautiful little head as we speak. Oh, I’m sure you’re thinking that your house-arrest beacon will go off, but I can assure you that it won’t, because I sent a Bob to take care of that problem.”
“I was going to make some slow gradual changes to you to make you more accepting of your new position in life as mine. You would’ve been happy, but alas, since you have caused such a stir I’m going to have to change my plans.”
Bob got up and came towards me.. As he caressed my cheek and I shuddered in my helplessness. “If you have gone to the FBI with stories about mind control it wouldn’t do for you to suddenly declare your undying love for me. I think I going to have you drop into a seriously self-destructive phase and then depression. Then, after, say, a few months I’ll come by and rescue you from yourself.”
Walking back to his desk, Bob press another key, “So, Crystal, what do you think of that?”
I could talk again! “You remind me of a quote Bob, ‘I’m a homicidal maniac, they look just like everyone else.’ How could we been so wrong about you?”
As Mini-Bob one and two rolled a cart of equipment towards me, my silly inner voice just had to pipe up with ’Do you expect me to talk Bob-finger? No, Crystal, I expect for you to DIE.’
Okay, he was just planning on turning me into his own sick private sex toy. Talk about a fate worse than death, but the fat lady hadn’t sung yet and I wasn’t fat!
Watching that menacing cart get closer, my inner voice must have been getting a little nervous because it was chatting up a storm. ‘Ask me for anything but time!’ playing for that much needed commodity, “So, Bob, we have all learned how you did all of this, but why?” ‘Come on Bob give me a monologue here, I don’t want to be your Fairy Queen Barbie,’ I was praying!
He looked up from his typing, “What are you fishing for, Crystal? A confession? We found all of your cute little devices, and even if I am a bit concerned about your visit to our Friendly Bumbling Idiots, you can’t prevent me from having the life I want.”
“I take it then, you did this for good old fashion reasons like greed?” I said sarcastically.
“Watch your tongue, young lady! I can stop that with just one finger. One of the things I’m not going to miss about the changes I’m making to you is your smart-ass mouth! It’s about revenge! Those cretins ruined my life, and made me work for them. Now the whole world knows what kind of hypocritical lairs they are!” he said.
Mini-Bob one and two were attaching sensors to my face and it surprised me when they rubbed some sort of sealant on a interface jack that I never even knew was there. Okay I’ll admit it that scared the juju out of me!
My Bug-Vision wasn’t as effective when they aren’t actively moving, but I did get some warning of what was to come. “Ok, Bob, you win. I won’t tell you anything you don’t want to hear. But oh, one more thing, Bob?”
Bob sicken sweet replied, “What’s that, Crystal?”
Swallowing a huge lump as I felt the “Click” of the interface cable locking home onto that smegging interface jack in back of my head, “Good night, Bob.”
Not expecting that, he laughed, right up to when the first armed man suddenly shot him! My eyes blinked, at the chaos in motion, when the rest of his chameleon suited team flashed into sight.
Their suits that had gave them near invisibility now shot off brilliant strobe like flashes serving the same purpose as the flash-bang devices of old. Sparks from electronic disablers flew from their weapons at the Mini-Bobs, as a swarm of robotic mini-fliers entered from outside to secure the computers.
I was still frozen and frightened, as the focused violence arced all about me. One of the masked commando’s came to me, “Commander Barkley, Seal Team Six, are you okay ma’am?”
“Yes, but he has activated my nanites and used them to freeze me. Be careful, they might be contagious again. Please get someone to remove that smegging cable! He was going to brain-wash me.” I shivered in helplessness, hoping the smegging interface cable wasn’t live.
“Understood,” he replied curtly as his team cleared the rest of Bob’s house. I didn’t have a clue on how they’d entered Bob’s house, but I had never been so glad to see men with guns charging at me in my whole life.
A tidal wave rush of technicians and agents in nano-hazard suits flooded the suddenly crowded studio. Both Bob and I received our share of the busy ant-like activity. I was relieved to see Galidor’s efforts on my behalf, for the feeling of helplessness was intense. Through it all, he was there with me until I was finally able to move again.
I don’t think I was supposed to see the confrontation he had with a MIB who seemed to be against anyone fiddling with Bob’s equipment, but it was gratifying to have him stand up for me. I had no desire to spend the rest of my life as a mannequin on display!
The first thing I did was give Galidor a very heartfelt hug. Afterwards, I hunted down each and everyone of those SEALS and showed them how much I appreciated their rescue, even if the Navy was about as far away as you can get from the cavalry! Hey, get your minds out the gutter!
I had one last person to visit. “Hello Bob”, I told his immobilized body. “I’m sure you’re wondering just what happened, and being the generous person I am, I’m going to tell you.”
“You see, you’re a really smart technician, but boy, are you people dumb. Our Friendly Bumbling Idiots, as you called them, knew that all of this just wasn’t adding up, but you did do a good job of hiding your involvement. But as I said, a few small clues made me suspicious, and all I needed to do was suggest how you could have caused all of this and it fell into place for them.”
“The problem was, you potentially had the lives of millions of people hostage and they needed the access codes to prevent that. Once I figured out that I had been intended to be your “toy,” it was a chance to get you to underestimate me, and get you to use the codes on me.”
“I had a little trouble figuring out a way to get them to the FBI outside, as since you are so tech savvy, using bugs or laser listening devices would be out. Then, I remembered my wings and that they were made from a very stiff material that made a serviceable if not perfect diaphragm.” I said spreading them again.
“There is a strand of material the FBI attached to them yesterday that leads to my umbrella. The transmitter was in there, where it stayed safely outside while my wings acted like the old tin can and cord telephones translating the air-vibrations into wire-vibrations. You see, so no signal from inside the workshop.”
“I was a little worried that you might find it, since it was acting like an antenna passing along the code, but since it didn’t produce a radio signal, you didn’t find it. Once they had the codes, they sent in the Navy. Have a nice life, Bob.
Turning to my elf shadow, “Galidor, who got the smegging Navy in the middle of this?” I demanded.
“The FBI isn’t totally clueless. It didn’t take long for them to notice that there was a leak, not just in Project Hectorcheires, but in the investigation team itself. Standard procedures failed to uncover what it was, so I was brought in from the SEALS, because I, as Galidor, was a high ranking character.
My real name is Sam Walker, and I went inactive from the Navy. I went deep under cover for the FBI, but it was my idea to work with you as Frank. Forgive me?”
Still feeling a little giddy about the last minute rescue, “I’ll take it under advisement.” But I was smiling when I said it.
Heather and Jil gave me quite a hard time for my “What were you thinking of” stunt, as Heather called it. Helen got the package I sent her prior to going to the FBI, just in case things went wrong.
As always, there is good news and bad news. The good news was, we did get the prefix codes that let us access some of the functions of each colony. It was easy to disable the communications for the inactive millions of nano-colonies out there.
The bad news was that paranoid Bob had multiple levels of security, and although they had the entire code for me, that wouldn’t let them do anything else for the other thousands of Changelings.
They couldn’t make big changes to me because that would require that smegging supercomputer again, but they could at least lessen some of the child-like features I had. Small I might be, but I do have a woman’s body and form.
We were all at the trial where he was sentenced to the big “D” and the closure, in addition to the end of my worry that the smegger would somehow cut a deal to save his lousy life was on my mind.
He wouldn’t tell the Feds what they really wanted to know, and they weren’t about to let him go, seeing how dangerous he was.
It’s my guess that he thought he was immortal because at least one AI Bob got away. I certainly don’t think a computer program that thinks it used to be a guy qualifies, but Bob had already proved himself a few cards short of a full deck.
That covers my introduction, so you all know who I am and what brought me here. It was the engineers at work that first pointed me in the right direction. The Afrit’s mega computer created wonderful designs when it transformed us into Dragon’s Gate creatures. That knowledge was lost except in the examples it left behind, us!
The engineering and coding that lets me fly, or the incredibly complex eyes of the elves are valuable, and joining our organization that is devoted to insuring that any profits from those designs goes to help those of us who needs it the most. I have watched the prejudice against us rise until most of us either live in seclusion or in communities consisting only of us and our families.
I realize that my ultimate project of providing a staffing service for the space and lunar colony efforts won’t appeal to everyone, but since the nano-virus did strike here in the valley, it did affect many of the most highly skilled and intelligent workers and developers in the world.
If this world doesn’t want us, we’ll go and make our own! Thank you so much for attending this gathering.
Recorded at the rally for Changeling Advocates, from Mrs. Crystal Walker’s address in 2021 at the Santa Clara Community Center by Jil Giovannia, courtesy of the Lunar Historical Sociality.
Note: many of the devises and equipment I've mentioned are under development. Printable Radio Frequency Id tags, Hawk VTOL and other near future inventions. One of my favorite web-sites is http://www.technovelgy.com/. It highlights interesting inventions and points out which Sci-fi book or novel predicted it.
Inane Christmas music that some idiot had decided was the perfect Santa’s Workshop tune, echoed blandly in the noisy room. Just hours away from the Fat Man’s only reason for existing, everyone including those preposterous excuses for reindeer, were getting ready for the Visit.
Aine stared at the plastic doll before her. Just how long had she put up this bullshit? Once she’d been a goddess dispensing justice and healing, and what was she now?
Inane Christmas music that some idiot had decided was the perfect Santa’s Workshop tune, echoed blandly in the noisy room. Just hours away from the Fat Man’s only reason for existing, everyone including those preposterous excuses for reindeer, were getting ready for the Visit.
The tinsel pompom at the end of the ridiculous elf hat she wore swung around in front of her eyes. Her anger flowed out like a miasma, surrounding her.
Her gaily dressed companions, working on their own toys, froze and slowly, but carefully scooted away on the long benches where they worked. They’d seen it happen before. When one of the Old Ones couldn’t adapt and went ‘postal’ it was never, ever funny.
The tic at the corner of her eye promised this would be one to remember.
Fuming, Aine was well aware of her ‘fellow’ elves reaction. Lowly Brownie, High Fey, or ex-deities, they all worked for the Fat Man. Oh, she well recalled the day when that cursed covenant was signed. What choice was there between ceasing to exist and a chance to continue?
Ironic that the same religion that’d caused their downfall, was their only chance for survival. Now she ground her teeth, remembering. This wasn’t even that. They were slaves to whatever moronic ‘fad’ that appeared in human culture.
Listening with her ‘other’ senses, children’s prayers and wishes for Christmas gifts filled her ears. Many wanted only toys, like the doll in front of her, but others dreamed desperately of miracles. Illnesses, starvation and uncaring guardians were only a few of the catastrophes they suffered. It was tearing her apart that she couldn’t help.
Oh sure, some few would have their wishes granted by the Fat Man who wore the suit of blood, trimmed in the color of death. Even if she trusted his intentions, which she didn’t, there were far too many for the available magic to aid.
Simply too many needed help, and not enough truly believed in miracles any more to provide the necessary power. A grim law of supply and demand that doomed countless little ones.
More than any other reason, she’d signed that bloody accord because she’d believed that she would be still helping others in some fashion. Glaring at the cheap plastic doll that no doubt would be in pieces well before a single year, this was not what she’d agreed. Crossly, she made a decision.
Looking at her neighbor cringing away from her, she politely asked, “May I have the use of your mallet?”
She didn’t even know why freaking mallets were even still in the traditional tool boxes by every workstation. Who the hell wanted wooden toys any more?
“Sure,” He replied with a squeak, handing it to her at arms length, fearing for life and limb.
“Thank you,” Aine said, weighting the tool in her hand for balance. Tradition? She’ll show them tradition.
In frenzy of blows the plastic blond haired head popped off, flying across the room shattering a Christmas ornament. The echoes of her vengeance on the offending icon silenced the busy room of elves.
“Hmm…” She smiled, satisfied.
Ignoring the others shocked expressions, she stood regally. Spoiling the moment, that damn pompom swung around in front of her face, again. As much as she would dearly love to torch the thing, the rules of magic she operated under now, would simply re-materialize another. Carefully she put it back where it belonged, she still had her dignity, damn it.
Taking a deep breath, she strolled to the massive door leading into the Arctic. Every step in those preposterous curled toed shoes made her fists clench. A wave of her hand blew the door open, letting the frigid winter roar within. Stately, she walked into the icy dark.
Who in their right mind put this place at the North Pole? Didn’t anyone know the Arctic was an ocean for pity’s sake? Trust the Fat Man to find the worst place on the planet to hole up. No doubt to hide all his slave laborers from the eyes of men.
Calling the winds to her as she once did ages ago, she flew into the darkness. She would live or die on her own terms.
Listening to the voices, she had the storm carry her southward. This corner of Africa had suffered terrible droughts for years. Calling the power to her, Aine carefully wove her intent to bring relief, but not flood.
Landing, she dug her fingers into the parched, worn out soil. Singing, she enriched it, coaxing the power from the earth herself. For at least a few years, crops would grow bountiful and no one would go hungry.
Another voice touched her heart and the zephyr carried her up and northwards, where a child was so deformed by a tumor he couldn’t stand and could barely eat.
Silently she touched him as he slept. The doctors wouldn’t believe his sudden recovery, but she saw that he would always remember. The boy would grow up to become a doctor himself, devoted to curing others as he himself had been helped.
Reaching into the sleeping child with her powers, she granted his prayers.
Stepping outside, she breathed in, feeling the world’s heart beat. Her magic was nearly gone, but there was one more she had to help.
Once again the winds carried her high and to the west. There it was still early evening, but on this night children were urged to go to bed early, so their parents could prepare.
Sitting on the roof top, unseen among the gaudy lights of the decorations, she sighed. This child’s parents didn’t lack for money or material things. It was so sad that they failed to see what was in front of them. How could they not know of the unhappiness and sadness that infused this youngster’s heart?
Just feet away, Aine heard the tears falling, and soft sobs. Her ‘sight’ showed the despair that filled that soul. So powerful, her own tears fell. She regretted now the dramatic and brazen use of her limited magic as she departed her previous employer. Now, she only hoped she had enough left to help this little one.
“Please Santa I need your help. I know that I’m too old to believe in you, but maybe thirteen is still young enough for you to hear me. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The child wept.
“I’ve tried to be like everyone is telling me, but I just can’t! It always turns out wrong. No one at school will let me be on their team or have anything to do with me, except to stuff me into lockers or trashcans. I know that there are others like me, but Mom and Dad won’t listen to me.
“He tells me to be a man,” The young teen quoted, “Or Mom says it’s just a phase I’m going though. But it’s not!”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone, not even myself, but I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It just hurts so much!” Crying and hugging himself, he cried begging, “Please, please just make me right, Santa.”
Exhausted by the crying, the child stumbled to bed, curling into a tight miserable ball.
Not willing to wait any longer Aine husbanded her magic to unlock the window. Opening it and slipping within, she closed it behind her. Feeling her power wane, she dared not even use enough to see if the child was asleep.
Looking into the, oh so heartrending face, she used her ’sight’ to look within. Planning how to best use what power she had left, she touched the child’s head gently.
His green eyes opened, looking into hers. Predictably, that damn pompom swung around in front of her face, again.
An look of pure amazement filled his eyes. “Are you an elf?”
No, I’m a goddess, died on her tongue. He deserved to keep his dreams. “Yes, I’m here to help you, but are sure this is what you want? If I do this it’s not going to be easy on you.”
“How can it be worse?” He asked, the pain in his eyes made her heart ache.
“It can be.” She replied, softly, “I can’t change you all the way to a girl tonight. That’s because, I’m sure you know, how strange people can be. Your parents and others might even deny you’re who you say you are. I have to make it happen over time. The moment I start you’ll start growing like any other girl.
“Within, inside you,” she explained, “Everything will be of a girl becoming a woman, but your outsides will slowly change from a boy to a young lady.” The goddess clarified. “This way everyone will think it was nothing more than a little mistake, easily fixed by medical science. This is so everyone who doesn’t really believes in magic has an explanation. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be hard for you, dear,” She warned.
“You’ll have to be firm with your parents and the doctors about what you want. And that doesn’t begin to address the problems with your classmates and friends.” She continued laying out more problems that were ahead.
“You mean I won’t grow anymore of those yucky hairs on my face, and be like other girls?” He asked, his eyes shining in hope.
“No more than other girls, dear.” She comforted. “Plenty of girls have hair in places they don’t want. You won’t be perfect, only a girl instead of a boy.”
“Yes!” Tears misted her eyes in happiness. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just to be really, honestly and truly me!”
Aine gathered him in her arms as they both cried. “Shhh now, we don’t want your parents to hear. So you are sure this is what you want?” Her ‘sight’ showed her the truth within the child’s heart, but she needed to hear him say it. He had to make the commitment to herself this night to make the most of the life to come.
“Yes, please make my wish come true,” He said, holding onto her.
Looking into his, eyes, she asked, “Twice I’ve asked, and twice you’ve said yes. For the third time, so there’s no mistake, is this what you desire?”
“Yes.” He wiped his tears. “However many times I’ve got to say it, yes, yes and yes!”
“Three times it was asked, and three it was answered, so mote it be!” She officially intoned.
He waited a moment in suspense, but then asked, “Now what?”
“Now you go to sleep, so I can start fulfilling your wish.” Aine replied. It hadn’t been her intention to receive his agreement, but to grant his desire while he slept. However, since she had gotten it by the old rules and forms, her task should be easier. Risking a small trickle of power, she blew gently on his face, casting sleep upon him.
Suddenly drowsy, he blinked trying to fight it.
“It’s alright. When you awake you’ll see the start of your dreams coming true. Now, sleep little one, sleep, and dream of happier, better tomorrows.” Still holding him, she eased him down to his pillow and tucked him in.
“Thank you, Miss Elf,” he mumbled as the fairy magic overcame him.
“You’re welcome,” Aine told the sleeping child with a smile.
As an ex-goddess of healing none of the body’s mysteries were strange to her. She crafted a puzzle for the doctors that would examine the child in the future. Completely and utterly female, but with the flimsiest appearance of a male child. She was taking no chances that they would try and deny the girl hidden within.
Stretching her word, she did ‘cleanup’ only a few things. The girl would have very little body hair and her few blemishes vanished. A tweak here and tweak there insured that no one in their right mind would consider her a boy.
Then, using a fairy ‘glamour,’ she concealed her work. Each day a bit would erode revealing the another bit of truth. Happening gradually, along with her other changes, it would all protect her from those fearful of what they didn’t understand, appearing like an unusual, but explainable medical cause.
Smiling, Aine kissed the young girl’s sleeping eyes as her final gift. When she waked in the morning she would be able to see past the concealing magic to see the promise underneath.
“Merry Christmas, dear. Have a good life,” She blessed the sleeping teen.
Taking a deep breath, she hardly felt the air moving though her lungs at all. Nearly all of her magic was spent in this last task of love. She was more air herself now, than solid matter. Floating to the frost covered peaked roof she began her long night’s vigil.
Hours passed, and she hugged her long legs, looking to the east where the sun would soon rise. Behind her, the sounds of boots crunching the frosty crystals signaled a visitor.
“So what now?” He asked.
“What do you think, Fat Man? My magic is spent, and I’m more spirit than living now. The rising sun will scatter what is left to the four winds.” She paused, thinking of her long life, but satisfied in the end. “I will be no more.”
He grunted a reply, sitting down beside her, his boots dangling over the edge. “So why this child, when so many others are just as deserving?”
Aine cut him a glare. She wanted her final moments for herself, but decided to answer. “I couldn’t help them all. I could only attempt to help those who would hopefully pass it on to others.”
“Her heart,” She said, inclining her head to the occupant still sleeping in the room below, “Is so large and caring. The impact of this night will spread far and wide. Instead of the butterfly’s wings causing a tornado, this one girl’s smile will shine, bringing light and warmth to multitudes.”
“At the cost of your existence.” He stated, as if she didn’t know.
“Far better than making useless dolls!” She shot back in anger. “It’s my life. I decide its ending.
“Don’t underestimate the healing power of even a doll.” He shook his head sadly. “However, like you said, it is your life. I do think that others will have some say about that ending you mentioned though.”
Before her, the lightening sky heralded Christmas day was only minutes away. However, even the sun couldn’t compete with the brilliant lights that had appeared about her. In spite of being mostly spirit herself, she was blinded by their power. Beautiful beyond the ken of those bound to the earth, their wings glowed like rainbows as they gently settled to the roof.
Questioningly, she turned the Fat Man. “What is this?”
“They’ve come for you Aine.” He answered.
“That’s not possible. I have no soul, just spirit. Without magic to give me life I’m nothing, but what the belief from others make me. Not nearly enough truly have that faith in these latter, sadder days.” Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off the messengers who simply smiled at her, lifting her heart.
“You sacrificed yourself for others. Perhaps you do lack a soul, but never ever a heart. The Creator of all cares for us all, no matter who or what we are. These angels are here for you.”
Aine stared at the Fat Man. That damn sleigh with those freaky excuses for reindeer sat behind him. As she stood, the messengers held out their arms for her.
“Surely you don’t think your work is done?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye. “I can however, assure you that no one will risk putting a doll in front of you again!”
She glared at him again, but couldn’t keep her smile away. “Farewell to you as well, Fat Man.”
Stepping into their arms, she and the messengers rose into the dawn.
His breath frosting in the chill Christmas morning air, he watched as they ascended out of sight.
“You too ELF,” He replied.
Taking a moment, Santa looked in on the girl who stood before her mirror, crying softly with happiness.
“You did good ELF, you did good.” Sadness touched him, because he couldn’t help all who needed help, but there was still only one of him. Sighing, he turned to walk to his ride.
There before him was a small, green elf cap with it’s tinsel tassel sparklingly in the morning sun.
Reverently, he picked it up, a tear in his eyes. Then with a smile he carefully tucked it away inside his coat.
Today was the time for cheer and happiness, not tears. Climbing into his sleigh, he picked up the reins.
“Come on, boys. Let’s get back to the ranch.” He told his team.
“Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!”
When things are their darkest, people become more determined than ever to celebrate that they're still alive.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who at the very last moment spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Definitions of three possibly confusing P's!
Prometheus: Titian from the Greek myths, who stole fire from Olympus and gifted it to mankind. He was punished by Zeus, who chained him to rock where an eagle tore at his liver everyday until freed by Hercules.
Pantheon: The family of gods belonging to a people.
Parthenon: The primary temple to the Greek goddess Athena in Athens and considered the finest example of Doric architecture. A reproduction is in Nashville, Tennessee USA.
Chapter One
I shuffled along, careful not to slip or slide on the icy treacherous sidewalk. My uniform's boots gave me reasonably good traction considering the piss-poor weather conditions, but it never hurt to be cautious. Even with my mittens my hands were numbingly cold from the brisk breeze blowing across the bay. Passing by a row of long dead ice covered palm trees, I had to snort at life's irony. Just a decade ago, everyone was worrying about global warming.
Funny how things can change so damn fast it can make your head spin. Once upon a time nobody would've been able to even conceive of this kind of weather this far south. Hell, this part of Florida didn't even use to see the last dregs of summer until this time of year, Halloween.
Damn, but I could recall the event that changed it all even if no one thought much about it at the time. All this untold misery was caused by a small car sized space probe by the name of Voyager One. On September Friday the 13th, back about ten years ago, it was officially announced that Voyager had pulled an Elvis and had left the solar system. Well, that is it'd actually departed around a year before, but nobody had realized it given some scientific techno babble about magnetic fields not doing what was expected by the brains in charge.
If they really had known what was about to happen that argument between the know-it-alls would've never happened. They would've instead been trying to do everything in their power to silence the damn thing so it never would've been found.
You sure could tell when you were on night club row these days. Even with the frightful weather there were lots of folks out to have a good time. No matter the War and the threat to our very existence hanging over our heads, people would always find an opportunity to party. Perhaps it was because of it all that everyone was celebrating so enthusiastically. Better to go out with a bang rather than a whimper, I suppose.
Personally, I was having a harder time with this particular social occasion. Honestly, yours truly were having serious second, third and fourth thoughts about going to this party, but I had promised. As Sheila put it, who knew if we would get to see another Halloween at all?
Of course our extinction wasn't a done deal, not yet. Humanity was fighting like a covey of pissed-off wildcats backed into a corner, and it helped that the bad guys weren't exactly doing this 'War of the Worlds' invasion thing in the smartest possible way. Maybe, it was more accurate to say they weren't humans and some of the things they did made absolutely no logical sense to us.
Like just hanging around in orbit coming to ground only at odd times, sometimes like gangbusters and in other instances they appeared to be just poking around. Believe me it wasn't because we couldn't hurt them, because we've wrecked plenty of their toys. That is once we could reach the bastards.
Perhaps that was part of the problem. Most of the Aliens' military equipment and vehicles were robotic just like those the US and other militaries had been developing before the War. They were all nice and comfy up in orbit aboard their ship, and could take their time with their 'bots and drones doing all the nasty work. It was rare as hell to see one of the bad guys in the flesh down here with dirt on his boots. That was saved for very special occasions although it usually baffled the hell out of us as to what triggered it.
I'd witnessed first hand one of the events our unwanted Visitors had deemed important enough to get personally involved and, that one at least, I knew damn well why. That would be a day I would never forget. I'd been so excited by the possibilities that'd been offered to me, to all of us in the program. Project Prometheus promised nothing, but if you got lucky, you 'really' got lucky.
Standing outside the club, my breath steamed as I procrastinated. Sheila was one of the very few people who knew the outcome of my Prometheus experience. Personally, I found it profusely embarrassing and awkward in the extreme. That did not include the guilt. Take your pick of the flavor; survivor's, letting my country and comrades down, or just plain old fashioned failure.
Despite it being cold enough to chase Polar Bears inside to the warmth, I just couldn't make myself do it. While I'd asked myself a hundred times how she'd talked me into this, it was a dumb question. When you had a crush like I had on her, she could pretty much ask me to do anything and I would agree. Sure, I would kick myself in the ass afterward, but tell her no? Sadly, not a chance.
Sighing, I looked on as other well-bundled, costumed party goers hurried inside out of the cold. Laughing and eager to have a good time, they were all too focused on getting out of the icy weather to pay any attention to me.
I had to smile at the thought that if cell phones were still around, she would've already called, demanding to know where I was. With as good as our unfriendly Visitors were with computers, such things were unwise. Ah, for the good old days when you only had to worry about the NSA listening in, instead of Aliens with the means of dropping very unpleasant things onto our heads. We had learned the hard way that relying on anything computerized or remote controlled was just asking for it to be taken over and used against us.
So forget all that drone and robot shit. It was live pilots and drivers with as little automation as possible. Of course we'd made up the difference by boosting the hell of our people. Even more ironic is that the technology to do that came from the bad guys.
It was more of humanity using its creative talents to the utmost when it had nothing to lose. We adapted their captured tech and did things with it that had all the science guys wondering why our Visitors didn't use it in the same ways.
Duh! Aliens, some simply said, while others worried at the long term problems we just didn't know about yet. Me, I thought it was likely a combination of the two. Oh, sure they were strange, however they so closely resembled us, but most of the things that were bad for us were bad for them.
It was that old form and function thing again. On worlds similar enough that we could each not just survive, but thrive, certain things had to be the same. And no it wasn't a coincidence. The Bug-Eye-Monsters who found the Voyager couldn't survive on Earth anymore than we could on an inhospitable place as nasty as their home-world. However, being enterprising, they went shopping for the perfect buyers who were willing to take on a nice fixer upper. So what if the joint already had tenants. We had, after all, provided them with the perfect sales brochure with all that stuff about Earth and us, we so thoughtfully added to that damn space probe on that damn gold record.
I remembered an old SF author who once said interstellar war was impossible. The enormous energy expended just to travel such distances at all would make any kind of warfare impractical. That is unless you waited till you got to your destination and used the system resources there to build your weapons.
At least that was the current thinking. We knew they had come in only one ship and while it was a big sucker, it wasn't that big. Add in them setting up some kind of big operation on the Moon and it was a reasonable guess they had put factories up there. That all explained why we saw mostly robots and drones. They just might have a limited number of warm bodies, but they had all the war machines they needed. No matter how freaking many we blew up, they could always make more. Of course each succeeding model was usually improved to foil our latest weapons and tactics at destroying the damn things.
A flake, drifting down from the dark heavy clouds, melted on my chilled cheek. Just perfect, I sighed again as more snow began to fall. Damn 'lake effect' coming off the bay meant it would become even more unpleasant out here.
Closing my eyes, I did my honest best to psych myself up for this. Focusing on how many of my fellow Prometheus 'graduates' who'd already given the ultimate sacrifice for Mother Earth and the human race, I really tried.
At last I heard, there'd only a couple hundred of us, out of the many thousands who had tried, that had drawn that wild card that made the Prometheus Project so worthwhile. However, having our dear Visitors blow the hell out of your facilities each time you used the things tended to slow things up. That didn't stop the Project whatsoever. Despite the costs, the rewards for even one success was worth it. After all what Army wouldn't want a Superman, Spiderman or Witch Blade?
I even wallowed in the survivor's guilt from not only walking away from that first use of the captured alien tech, but of all of those who given their all while I had as many if not more 'gifts' as any, but just couldn't push one damn it to hell button.
It was more than that of course, but I just had to complicate things for myself. You know, that own worst enemy thing. The weight of the Q-Box on my belt felt as heavy as lead instead of the barely noticeable plastic box. Although it had an acronym that had some kind of cool meaning in some dead language, all of us simply called them Q-Boxes because everything after the Q for 'Quantum' was unintelligible techno-babble to us average Joes.
It drove the science guys nuts, but despite all their explanations of shifting quantum states bought into matching something or another, we, the end-users, had to simplify things. Sure I got that Prometheus was somehow linked to a universe with some kind of higher energy thingie-bob, and connected it to us, but really understand it? That would be a no.
The simple explanation was it turned you into a you that could or might have been, a superhero. Or for that matter maybe they were villains. There was no way of knowing since there was nothing like communication with that other dimensional universe or whatever it was. Just you becoming like your unknown twin in that universe, however there were some problems too.
Other mad scientists' programs using the alien tech like any of the various Super-Solider or Project Rebirth, had a one hundred percent success rate. In that program, you were re-born at your physical and mental peak. In most cases I understand that actually exceeded what you really had been like at that age since damn few people really reach their full potential.
To be in your mid-twenties again, was a something most people would not turn down. Besides if there was one thing the human race needed it was every available warm able body to fight the bad guys. After a few kinetic bombardments here and there, over-population was no longer a worry. Extinction yes, but one thing at a time please.
I sighed, freezing, as snow blanketed Tampa. No, I just had to risk it all. Not sure sure of the interactions the Docs usually limited you to just one of the enhancement choices, but being young again wasn't good enough for me. Being a dreamer, has always been my biggest fault and boy did it bite me in the butt this time.
Irony upon irony, I now understood exactly what 'being careful for what you wish for' meant. I got exactly what I wanted, but it freaked me out so badly I couldn't use it.
Giving up, I hanged my head low and walked into the bustling club.
The music was thrumming with Dr. Demento's 'They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!' as the club's lights strobed madly. Shrugging off my parka, I left it in the lockers as other patrons stored their own cold weather gear they'd worn over their costumes as the club's bouncers looked on.
I thought one of them was going to say something about me not being in the required costume until he saw my leggings-like uniform and boots. Whether as qualifying as the required costume or being in uniform, that got me inside.
The Liquid Metal Skins were another of those things we'd taken from our besiegers. Most people just shortened it to Skins since there was nothing else like it. The stuff was elastic like Spandex, but provided as much, if not more protection as old pre-invasion bullet-proof vests. Covering from head to toe, it provided great impact resistance that really helped prevent all the bumps and scrapes you tend to accumulate while trying to stay alive on a battle field. The stuff would even change color to blend into the environment and even did a fair job of keeping you comfortable no matter the temperature. That is if you wore the whole ensemble.
It drove me to distraction since LM was so sensual it put silk to shame. The leggings and top were bad enough, but the head piece/hat and gloves were worse. Having that silky softness constantly play over my hands and face about drove me crazy. That was why I kept my trusty parka with its deep hood and my mitts.
The other parts I had to wear since it was the uniform of the day for the Pantheon Teams which were formed from the Prometheus Project's successes. The single biggest reason was because it could stretch a lot and still provided that aforementioned protection.
On the other hand, the figure hugging material did nothing for my decidedly non-heroic body. In theory, I was on detached duty because of medical issues so I could've worn a nice normal uniform which is what I usually did. It went without saying that a traditional costume would've worked too. It was Halloween.
That is except for Sheila who had convinced me to come dressed as a Pantheon trooper for the occasion. My reminding her I really was in that elite organization didn't work. She explained it was like Superman who appeared in public as his real self. It was Clark Kent who was the disguise.
Of course I had promptly chickened out at the door.
At this point I think I was hoping to see someone, anyone, we knew so I could claim I did in fact make an appearance and then run home as fast as the deteriorating conditions outside would allow. That is except for Sheila. That would not be good because I knew she would guilt trip me about breaking my promise.
However, the problem with finding that someone to make my alibi was obvious. Everyone was in costumes. The creative efforts highlighted other benefits such as it was of the invasion. The new technologies made possible some very realistic presentations. Frankensteins, were-wolves, vampires and scores of others including even one of our unwanted Visitors, a Tweety.
Mind you, I don't care for that term for the Aliens. However, it came about from their short stature and oddly shaped heads which kinda made them look big. The crowning fact was their feathery hair which was always brightly colored. The first one we saw had bright canary yellow hair which immediately got them labeled as Tweeties.
You see I liked the old Looney Toon cartoons, and Tweety Bird in particular. I'd often silently jeered my tormentors while growing up as 'Bad ole Puddy Tats!' Actually I like cats, too, but you get what I mean.
Well if you wanted a real life monster, that would certainly fit the bill. I wasn't sure what the world's current death count from the invasion was at, but the Aliens had killed more people than any one or thing in all of our history.
Rumor had it that, in the off and on talks with them, that they claimed they had bought the Earth all nice and legal, and we were nothing more than squatters who they were trying to evict. Given they told us that Voyager's information had been sold to them, that sorta made a kind of demented sense. On the other hand, it told us that in galactic society, that might made right. We had no recourse, but to fight tooth and nail to keep our world and lives.
“Craig!” A voice accused. “You're not in costume!”
“Sheila.” I sighed, turning to face my accuser. The attractive, bouncy blond was not happy with me.
“You promised!” The great-great-grandmother stared me down. A graduate of Project Rebirth, she had over nine decades of life experiences although she didn't look old enough to drink. To top it all off, the Air Force in its infinite wisdom had seen fit to make her a staff sergeant to try and keep up with its explosive growth as the world tried to defend itself.
Trust me that you would have to go a long way to find someone else more capable of managing people than Sheila. I knew I looked more like her father or maybe even grandfather given I still mostly looked my original age. That didn't stop my hormones from racing every time I saw her.
In theory the Prometheus exposure didn't do anything to your 'normal' body, but while I wasn't 'super' this way, I was healthier and in lots better shape. Of course being back in the Army again might've had some thing to do with that. Being forced to exercise regularly again did make a difference although I was still suspicious when I was more or less able to keep up with the twenty year olds even if I was bringing up the rear. Late middle-aged guys just don't do that!
“I know.” Yelling over the music, I couldn't help, but admire her scanty Tinkerbell costume. Yeah, that's me the dirty old man. She out-ranked me, but not by grade given I had re-entered the Army at the same rank that I'd left, a Sergeant, E-5 which was the same pay grade as hers. The Army and Air Force had different names for the same ranks, go figure. No, she had me by date of rank. Hers went back to the 1940's from her WAC days.
“I know I promised. ” Apologizing while yelling over the 'Monster Bash' was just bizarre. “And I'm sorry, Sheila, but I just couldn't.”
Her disappointed look made me feel like a first class jerk, but I had honestly tried. Not being able to do 'it' was what got me sent here to McDill AFB to begin with. She had no idea of how big of a deal it was when I showed her THAT other me in private. Even that had me awake half the night distressed half out my mind. How could any version of me do something like 'this' to themselves?
Being a good friend she'd sat there with me the whole time, as I fell apart. Unlike all the doctors and therapists, she hadn't pushed or really did anything except be there with me. Sheila had even turned on the TV as if there was nothing wrong or strange about me looking like, like, THAT.
This whole Halloween thing was her idea just so I could pretend, THAT, the other me was only a costume.
“Craig, it's alright.” Her smile said she still wasn't happy, but she wasn't angry at me either. “If you can't, you can't.”
“I even have my Skins.” Gesturing down to my legs, I showed her I had my uniform on even if I mostly hid it under my oversized sweater.
“I see that!” She giggled, her eyes sparkling in the flashing lights. “And I was so looking forward to seeing Halcyon in it!”
Okay, I was confused again as she used my official code name. Was Sheila suggesting she was interested in me like THAT? She was a great-great-grandmother for goodness sakes, for all she could pass for 18 again, so she had to be straight, right?
“Oh goody!” She laughed, taking me by the arm. “I think I broke you! Come on. The others are over here.”
Dragging me though the dancing, jumping, and hopping critters, monsters and everything else in-between, I saw her wave at a table. Our co-workers, Janet, Dave, Paul and Libby were all obviously having a good time. I suppose the for once hopeful War news may have helped lift everyone's spirit's a tad.
In our Visitor's drive to make Earth more attractive to them, they'd nano-bombed several cities which had serious pollution problems. Linfen, China had a coal problem that once was so bad that hanging laundry would turn black before it dried. Another Sukinda, India right in the heart of the country's chromite mining belt had highly toxic chromuim levels in their air, soil and drinking water.
Unlike the kinetic strikes, the nano-bombing while it in itself didn't kill anyone directly, it did forced mass evacuations as every man-made structure and object in the 'blast' area gradually fell apart as the nano-machines not only cleaned up the pollution, but disassembled all signs of civilization.
This time the contaminated Fukushima power plant in Japan was their target. Cleaning up that mess was good, but leaving the tens of thousands of people in the nearby towns destitute in the kind of weather we had these days were a death sentence.
I hated to think of the short cuts and out right mad risks that had probably been taken to do it, but the Japanese Self Defense Force of Earth's Defenders had stopped the Nano-machines in their tracks and even better had timed it only after the Fukushima site had been cleaned. Perhaps it wasn't a great victory, but right now the Earth at large would take what it could get. The news that our latest attempt at directly attacking our unwanted Guests' orbiting ship had failed spectacularly had not been released to the general public. Adding to the bad list, this murderous winter was right out of the end-of-the-world Fimbulwinter from Norse Myths and this endless cold was going to make it tough simply growing enough food.
It was human nature. Celebrate what you could and worry about starving to death later. Not that would be a worry for me. I was already somewhat surprised that I hadn't been 'pushed' into a do or die battle with the alien robots, yet. At least that way the Army would get part of their investment back before I was killed by overwhelming odds. Better yet, I wouldn't get anyone else killed in the doing of it.
Laughing about what someone said, Janet was this little, thin, Air Force Zoomie who was dressed as that Elven archer from that Hobbit movie a few years ago. Being a combined service organization, Dave was our token Marine, but was the least recognizable of my workmates with his Shrek makeup. Really he didn't need any cheesy fake muscle shirt to look the part. If anything he looked more like the Hulk in that green makeup than an Ogre because of the Marines' super-solider program.
Laid-back Paul was Army like me, but tonight was dressed in Dracula's finest evening wear. We'd laughed that the Wallachian Prince wouldn't be caught dead or alive with sparkles. Libby was Navy, a Squid. The cute brunette really rocked her 20's flapper getup.
Somehow I kept from sighing again. It was clear I wouldn't be making an exit any time soon. I'd never been the party type nor much of a drinker. Bowing to the inevitable, I ordered a beer knowing I wouldn't finish it.
Yeah, I got some ribbing about my lack of a real costume, but they all got quiet as I showed my Skins. There is a respect among the services for those in elite units. Just like you don't impersonate a cop, pretending you're something you didn't earn is a huge no-no.
With the exception of Sheila, everyone thought I was just another old Army guy called back to service. Sure they saw the Pantheon patch, but most people saw my age and leaped to the conclusion I was a support element. Just maybe too, I'd taken some pains to help with that mistaken assumption since it simplified my life.
“It's the real deal.” Sheila assured them, raising their curiosity.
“I have medical issues.” Was my reply, hoping nobody asked for an explanation.
The questions were brimming over within them, I could tell from their eyes, but for now they were willing to give me a pass. Unfortunately, I knew I would be hearing more about this. They probably thought I was a 'washout,' someone who'd failed the training after under going the 'process.'
Actually, I did pretty good with the course work. What field training that could be coaxed out of me was more problematic considering just changing was enough to freak me out with serious anxiety attacks. I will say that perhaps it was others reaction to THAT change during this time which alarmed me and only made things worse. Unlike that character in that old movie, I knew for damn certain that wasn't a 'Rabbit in their pants.' That was just eww!
However, while failing in the civvy world was looked down on, college dropouts were an example, in Uncle Sam's mean green machine it was taken to another level. Admitting your limitations was one thing, but to aim high and fail was something else altogether different. It was a mixture of 'do or do not, there is no try,' and 'failure is not an option,' taken to the nth degree. You did not get points for trying, only for succeeding.
Sheila finally tired of my mopping and dragged me onto the dance floor. I've never really thought 'The Were-wolves of London' was very much like dance music, but given the atmosphere tonight people would dance to anything.
“You know being a girl isn't torture.” She whispered yelled over the tune. “It's not that bad. As a matter of fact there is a lot of good about it.”
“But it is different.” I replied, still wishing I was elsewhere. Feeling like a yak with four left feet, as I tried to keep up with her. “If it was only being a girl maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but it's not.”
“Well, 'she' is a bit much.” She smiled as we slowly danced across the crowded floor.
“That is one way of saying it.” I returned her smile with a side ways one of my own. “No woman ever born ever looked anything even close to THAT.”
“I can't argue with you.” Sheila leaned into me. “Talk about curves, wow!”
My brains were shorting out again over the confusing signals, but I had to say it was really weird feeling jealous of what was really myself, kinda.
“Imagine looking into a mirror,” I countered, searching for a way to better say how it felt. “And not seeing anyone, but this stranger. There is utterly nothing similar or familiar about them. Their height, build, hair, face, everything is different. Take it a step further and envisage that image as being so outlandish it's nearly a photo-shopped caricature.
“I know that it has to be me, but something in my head just can't and won't connect with it.” Shrugging helplessly, I tried to escape the dance floor as the song ended.
“What I see is so bizarre, I simply can't associate it with being me.” Shaking my head, I winced as the DJ put on a cover of 'Thriller' by some new singer I was unfamiliar with. I just knew Sheila was going to drag me back to the floor because of it.
“Just as bad, I can't conceive of any version of me anywhere or any-when that could ever do something like this to themselves.” I hated it when I sounded like I was whining. “That only makes it all worse.”
“You know.” She said, dragging me back to dance to 'Thriller'. “That this might have been done to her without her wanting it or saying so. You did say it was a comic-book like universe. It even could've been an accident. All kinds of weird stuff happens to characters in those kinds of stories.” Sheila pointed out.
“Well, as far as we know.” I gave her that much. “It's only a guess based off of how we've seen how Prometheus changes people. However, I'm not the only who has freaked out. A couple of others have been transformed into things not even vaguely human so I guess I've been somewhat lucky in that regard.”
I didn't mention that many of those poor souls were about as stable as nitroglycerin. The Army had used them like living hand grenades. Willing to die for the cause and dear mother Earth was one thing, but suicide was never painless. Maybe even more so when the pain was so unbearable that it drove you to it in the first place.
“So if this wasn't a choice by that other you then she must've found a way of dealing with it right?” Sheila's eyes gleamed in the strobe lights as she lead me down the path of her reasoning by the nose.
“If it wasn't a choice, I guess.” Unwillingly, I could see where she was headed with this.
“Then so can you.” She grinned triumphantly. “Besides you're not the only one dealing with changes. I went from an undersized great-great-grandmother to this sexy young thing. No one told me that I would grow nearly a half foot although I'm not complaining. Being five foot nothing is no picnic.
“I know it was a far less drastic a change than what yours.” Sheila admitted. “But I do have some idea of what you're going though.”
“You grew?” I asked, amazed. She was a lithe little thing a couple of inches shorter than me already. I couldn't imagine her being even shorter.
“Almost six inches.” She nodded. “The Rebirth thing brings your body to its full potential including fixing any malnutrition issues while growing up during the Great Depression. The worst part was adapting to how people treat me now that I'm younger. I'm used to the respect that comes from age. Looking like this, no one takes me serious again.”
“It's not as bad as it was way back when I was a WAC, Woman's Army Corps, but it still leaves a lot to be desired.” Sheila relented and let us leave as the song ended.
I saw that guy in the Visitor costume again. He was just hanging back and watching everyone, but there was nothing wrong with that. As much as I wasn't all that social, I could understand needing to be around others with the death and heartache from the War. Still anyone having the guts to come as the world's current boogie man had to be given some credit.
Getting back to our table, Paul and Dave were out to the john, leaving the girls to their own devices. That left me more or less to myself as the ladies did their girl-talk thing.
That was fine with me. I had a lot to think about.
Chapter Two
Sheila did have a point about that other me. If THAT change had been imposed or an accident rather than chosen then yes, he would've had to adapt somehow. The very fact I'd changed at all was proof that other me was alive because otherwise there wouldn't have been a quantum pattern to be copied.
Taking an honest look at the whole thing, I had been blaming that unknown me for this. How dare he get superpowers and ruin it all by changing into THAT! It really did alter everything to consider he might be in as much distress as I when he looked in the mirror.
I'd had some pretty nasty anxiety attacks that had done nothing but get worse. Of course that bought the point of just how the other me had managed not go crazy. Perhaps in that universe such things were more common and not as much as a shock as it was to me. On the other hand, most of Project Prometheus's successes while some did change radically, most experienced only minor changes. Even the others, despite growing bigger and bulging with muscles or suddenly sporting wings, they were usually still recognizable as themselves.
THAT person I saw in the mirror after triggering a change had absolutely nothing in common with me. Gender went without saying, but you could even say racially as well since no one in my family ever had Asian eyes. Complexion didn't count since I doubted anyone else on the planet looked like THAT, and height was a given too because people seven feet tall were at the very least uncommon.
Strangely I had found a character that somewhat resembled that stranger that was me. An online comic strip by the name of 'Grrl Power' had a major powerhouse that came remarkably close. Unfortunately except for a few private archives, that comic along with the majority of the internet was nothing more than history.
I found myself looking at guy in our unwanted 'Visitors' outfit again. In a way that other universe version of me was as much an alien as the Tweety. Okay I have to come clean that once you say it, yes, the Aliens do look a lot like oversized Tweety Birds.
Really his outfit was first rate, but then again so was mine. More than once I'd been thankful that my Skins kept me fairly comfortable even with the heavy sweater I kept on to hide just how tightly my uniform fit. With the crowd here tonight, it was nice and toasty inside despite most of the buildings in Tampa never being intended on keeping serious cold out. I should've been sweating like crazy, but for my Skins.
Of course mine was real deal right of JSOC, Joint Special Operations Command's supply depot. That got me wondering where he got his. Although Special Operations units, like Pantheon, had first dibs on the Liquid Metal Skins, lessor knockoffs were out there if you were willing to pay for it. The Fetish scene were hot as hell for them. Never mind the end of the world was coming when you had an itch to scratch.
We knew damn little about our invaders given that 99% of the time we were only fighting their robotic proxies. Most of the information we had came from communications or more accurately attempted communications. Like I've said before we and them just weren't on the same wavelength.
Additionally with them staying safe and sound in orbit, they were likely to stay strangers as we tried our very best to kill each other. That said us pesky primates had gotten a piece of one if only once. That was where our sample of Skins had originated. With the material's self-repair once you manged to cut off parts, the very tough stuff it would 'grow' into a whole new suit. Unfortunately, like sound recordings and other things, the more copies you made the lesser the quality. Pantheon uniforms were all first generation, but you could usually tell how good Skins were by just how much they looked like molten metal, think quicksilver. The reason why the bouncers had let me in the club with such a lame costume was because they recognized I was wearing the real deal.
The guy costumed as an Alien was also wearing the good stuff. Standing at about five and half feet tall, the Skins covered him from the neck down in a gleaming silver coating just like those space suits from the old movies. Around his waist was the belt that usually held a couple morphers on the real thing. Those were the preferred tools of our Visitors, consisting of specialized nano-tech units programed to become certain classes of machines like the ultimate transforming multi-tool. For example, one might be able to become a host of different weapons while another would be different kinds of engineering instruments.
Yeah, they were accomplished users of nano-tech, but instead of the do everything, take things apart and rebuild it into something else, they instead had very specialized colonies, I suppose you could call them, that had a limited set of forms and functions. Maybe that was just more efficient or perhaps some kind of cultural preference, but that was also a good thing for humankind.
They could've just dropped a swarm of nano-machines on our small planet and had them disassemble the whole joint, lock stock and barrel. Then they only had to rebuild it into whatever they liked. I suppose we should be grateful for whatever reason that prevented them from it. The Nano-tech bombardment thing was bad enough.
However, the point here was Mr. Alien had three flattened ostrich-egg shaped objects, morphers, that looked an awfully lot like the single example we'd managed to recover. It'd had been drained to almost uselessness, but still had been a treasure trove into how the Aliens' tech worked. Of course we'd studied the hell out of it.
I had that really bad feeling the movies talk about even as I tried to talk myself out of it. He couldn't be the real thing, and besides what possible reason would one of our invaders have for visiting a night club of all places on Halloween?
Well for one, he wouldn't have to bother with a disguise tonight with everyone else in costume, my traitor brain answered. Additionally, all of their contact with us has been second hand, through video conferences. Maybe if one wanted to study us first hand this would be the perfect opportunity. After all, he might not get a second chance with humans being on the 'endangered' list.
It was also worrying, that if this joker was real, just how close he was to McDill AFB. It was one of our major command centers which would make security shit bricks if my paranoia was correct. Our unfriendly Visitors had a habit of hitting places that unduly annoyed them with kinetic orbital bombardments.
Just to be sure I looked around to make certain there was only one of them. Not that it mattered all that much. With them dropping their robots from space, they could have a company sized element on the ground in minutes. That was assuming they didn't have stealth units already dirt-side. Although less heavily armed and armored, those things were hard as hell to detect entering the atmosphere.
Logic suggested they were more difficult to build or perhaps some other limitation since we saw so few of them. Normally when we did, they were in groups of six, the number of fingers including the two opposable thumbs of our bellicose Guests.
Immediately, I began trying to see his damn hands. He could have gloves on to make it look like he had an extra thumb, but even animatronics could only do so much. However, with the lousy lighting I couldn't even see his hands much less make out how many fingers he had.
“Earth to Craig!” Sheila laughed at my preoccupation. “Are you alright?”
“I'm fine. Paranoid, but fine.” My eyes never left him.
She followed my gaze.
“Nice costume, even if it is in bad taste.” Sheila replied, but then stopped as she realized what I just said. “You can't seriously mean you think he might be the real thing!”
Janet and Libby were chatting among themselves and didn't seem to notice what we were talking about. That was good. I didn't want to start a needless panic.
“That's why I'm calling myself paranoid.” Smiling, it never reached my eyes. Both my parents and my brother had died when our Visitors had dropped their 'bots on the Savannah River Site where the USA had once refined materials for nuclear weapons.
Her face paled as she noticed all the same details I had, but I'd thought of something else.
“If that is a costume,” She said low, just for me. “He certainly went to a lot of trouble to get the details right.”
“I have to wonder why he's standing where he is.” Sighing, my bad feelings were pegging the meter. “It's not the best place to see the dance floor or the stage when the costume contest begins. That's not what I would expect from someone who put so much effort into a costume so he could win. You would think, he would want to be seen.”
“No it's not.” Sheila followed my reasoning. “We picked this table because it has more privacy than most and is near the emergency exit.”
“And he is in a good place to watch me.” I added, calmly.
“Your Skins.” Enlightenment dawned on her like it had with me.
“If he is the real thing, he could be picking up on them and my Q-Box too.” My mouth was dry, but my taste for warm beer had long deserted me.
“So what do we do?” Sheila asked looking about at the packed club. “If something happens here, it'd be bad.”
“I know.” This could turn into a bloodbath if Mr. Alien's morphers were real. A plasma burner would turn this place into a blazing charnel house.
“Nothing.” I breathed out slowly. “Anything we do might spook him, and that would be a bad thing. He wouldn't be here all by himself to simply to crush, kill and destroy. He was also already present when I arrived so he's not here for me despite how he's watching us. It's possible he's their version of an xeno-anthropologist or something using Halloween as a chance to study us up close.
“With McDill so close?” She spoke my own thoughts. “There's a whole lot of other places a lot less sensitive and safer if that was what he wanted. That is if he's a Tweety.”
“Hey!” Dave, our Jar-head, back from the john, butted in. “What are you two so serious about? I thought we were here to party!”
Sheila's glance at me said she agreed that he was seriously inebriated.
“I always wanted to know.” He stated, drunkenly ignoring our unspoken communications. “Why do you guys call yourself Pantheon? I get the whole like the Greek heroes and gods thing, but couldn't you guys come up with anything better?”
“Well,” I smiled, although personally I agreed with him, but like a lot of things I wasn't consulted “Nobody liked the Super-Friends, and Avengers had already been taken. Besides, no one messes with Disney's lawyers.”
“Blood suckers!” He shot back. After being married four times, he had a very poor opinion of lawyers.
“You called?” Paul asked, in a bad Bela Lugosi imitation while holding his cape up in mock menace.
Dave glared at our vampire and turned back to his drink. He really wasn't this bad normally, but he was very drunk.
“Hey, look!” Sheila nudged me.
A Mentat from the last 'Dune' remake was approaching our Visitor. His makeup was very credible, and the huge bushy eyebrows only accented his surprised and shocked expression.
I think we were just as astounded since they appeared to know each other. Okay by this point we had convinced ourselves we had the real thing as our Halloween Guest of dubious honor.
“Maybe it is just a very clever costume.” Sheila voiced her doubts again.
The idea of a collaborator, a traitor to the human race, made my stomach churn. However, there was something else about the Mentat that nagged me. It took me a second, because I knew him from somewhere.
“The Away Team.” His face finally clicked. They were kinda a joke since their job was to build psychological profiles of the Aliens. The whole Intel shop called them the Away Team or the First Contact Team making fun of their nearly impossible mission of figuring out how Aliens think. Not that our job of predicting their military action was any easier, but we did have a few successes.
However, if anyone at McDill had direct contact with our Visitors, it would be someone from there.
“It could still be a costume.” Shelia said, without any conviction.
“Huh, guys.” Paul interrupted. “I don't think that's a disguise.”
“How so?” I asked him curious, playing devil's advocate. “They're only two guys at a party, right?”
“Feet.” He inclined his head at their subject of interest's lower extremities.
As one Sheila and I stared into the so very hard to see shadows. As difficult as it was to make out, the long split toes were visible. Perhaps there was a way to fake an effect that looked like that, but damn if I knew what it was.
“How did you know?” Sheila asked, Paul beating me to the punch.
“That detail has never been released to the public.” He replied, “No one knew until we got lucky and nailed that one Tweety. There wasn't much left to autopsy, but one foot was more or less in one piece. We don't even know which foot it was, but my did they analyze the living crap out of it.”
“So at the very least someone has broken security, releasing classified information,” Sheila was wearing her official Staff Sergeant hat. “And at the worst we have an active incursion.”
“That sounds about right.” I agreed, trying to see some way out of this mess. “Might I suggest sending the rest of our group out for reinforcements while we keep our objective under observation?”
She looked at our group. Sure they were well lubricated, but they were also sharp people. Janet was looking scared, and Libby wasn't a lot better although I was pretty sure I could credit the alcohol with that. Seeing how she'd been hanging with Dave, it was a miracle she could still walk.
“That sounds like a plan to me.” Sheila handed Paul her keys. “Don't you dare wreck it!” She warned. With all the industrial production going to the war effort, replacing or even repairing a civvy vehicle was nearly impossible these days much less her pride and joy.
“Tell them your token Pantheon guy ID'ed the suspect.” I sighed. If this fell though and it was really a human somehow in that getup, then the rest of them would be covered. “I'm in the doghouse already. If we're wrong, you won't get splashed by the fallout.”
“Feel free to mention the feet thing too.” I added. “I'm not trying to take your credit, Paul. That was a good call. I'm just trying to cover you guys.”
“I know.” He grinned at me. “Try not to start the festivities before we get back. You Pantheon guys have a rep for being crazy!”
“Why do you think I'm here on a medical?” I returned his grin. “I was too sane!”
That got a nervous laugh out of them. They knew the score. These days signing up for Special Forces was the same as the short list for very risky missions. On the other hand, I saw it as a desperate chance to not end up on the same list as the Dodo and the Tasmanian Tiger. Now, if only I could keep from freaking out long enough, I could charge the enemy guns in a glorious but final testimonial that we would not go calmly into the night.
“I think I'm ready for a little action,” Paul waggled his brows at Janet. “You ready to find some privacy?”
Some of her nervousness disappeared as she understood that was to be their excuse for leaving early.
“How about you drop these two back at the base?” Shelia nodded at Dave and Libby. “I think they've had a little too much celebration.”
Dave was so out of it, I don't think he was very aware of what was going on, but Libby caught on.
“Come on lover.” She teased him. “We got places to go.”
“We do?” He slurred. It was a good thing he was enhanced or otherwise he'd be on his way to a hospital for alcohol poisoning given how much he'd drank.
“Yes we do.” She helped him up.
We ended up helping take him to the door and waiting as Paul bought Sheila's car around. Her Caddie was one of the last Devilles the company produced and she babied it like it was her own child.
“Okay.” She sighed. “The messengers are on their way. All we have to do now is wait for the cavalry.”
“And hope nothing goes wrong.” I added, hoping our Visitor would be long gone before any 'reinforcements' arrived.
“Ditto!” She grabbed my hand as we headed back into the warmth.
Taking a deep breath, I took off my oversized sweater and gave it to her. Shivering, Sheila gratefully accepted as she tried to get warm again.
That of course left me in my fully exposed uniform that was in its default color of black. Pockets were impractical for Skins since that would compromise how the protection worked, but the lack was filled by what everyone called our Batman's belts. It was just a wide belt with pouches to make up for that lack as well as holding my Q-Box, but for me it only served to highlight my round tubby shape. Talking my gloves from a pouch, I put them on leaving off only the hood hidden in the collar.
As embarrassing as it was, the overweight guy was in uniform. I had lost an enormous amount of fat from around my middle since all of this had begun, but no matter how much I'd improved, Skins showed each and every flaw in marvelous detail. In truth I'd been the oldest candidate accepted by Project Prometheus and that was only because they really didn't expect me to manifest. Perhaps because it was the first mass test they were curious about the effect on someone older. I'd once held a high security clearance and had kept my nose clean since then. That'd been good enough.
The facade of the Parthenon's classic Greek Doric architecture was the unit patch of the Pantheon Teams and rode on my shoulder. The other insignia was all adapted from regular military informs to fit on Skins.
Two big differences were, one, instead of a regular name tag, a stylized gold and blue kingfisher was upon my upper right breast, Halcyon. Two, on my left breast where you usually found qualification badges such as 'jump' wings or the Combat Infantryman Badge, was a circular device with a hand holding stylized flames, Prometheus.
Halcyon, my code name, wasn't a perfect match for the facts, but that was the moniker that had gotten approved by the convoluted military bureaucratic and political deal brokering. What this all did was make me appear even more ridiculous because of just how little I looked anything like a elite lean and mean solider.
“Well, that wasn't hard.” Sheila had kept my hand as we looked for our quarry.
“Nope.” I replied, wondering at the irony again.
The Mentat and Visitor had moved to the very table we'd recently vacated. In the somewhat better light, I was certain that, one, Tweety was a real live alien invader, and two, he was here specifiably to meet with the Mentat.
“You know.” Sheila did her best to channel her inner secret agent despite her Tinkerbell outfit, “I don't think Mr. Bushy-Eyebrows was expecting his friend to show up tonight.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Moving around I tried to get a good view as well without being painfully obvious I was watching them. “You know if anyone has a direct line to them, it's the Away Team. Not that its done us much good since they're still dropping kinetic strikes and robots on our asses, but talk is taking place.”
“You're thinking this Tweety may have decided to pull a surprise on his First Contact Team pen pal?” Sheila asked, pulling my sweater down so low it nearly made a skirt for her.
“Yeah,” Nodding I thought over my idea looking for errors. “Perhaps this is relatively innocent.”
“As innocent as meeting a representative of an alien race that wants to kick us off of our own planet can be.” Sheila smiled, at the irony.
It was nice that I wasn't the only one that was being smacked around by fate's debatable sense of wit and humor.
“You know there are those who fear that they have a worst fate in mind for us.” Giving her a grim smile, I explained. “If they just wanted to kill us off they have had the chance. Just their kinetic bombardments has bought on a nuclear winter and unless someone pulls one hell of a rabbit out of their ass, there are going to be a whole lot less people around this time next year.”
I didn't mention the mass starvation that would be the cause. We both knew the score and didn't want or need to talk about it.
“So slaves or some kind of lobotomized servants?” Her nose winkled in distaste. Sheila lived though the difficult Civil Right years and even if she wasn't a minority, she had strong feelings about it.
“That's where some of the theories go.” I nodded. “Others are saying that the reason they haven't wiped us out yet is that they want us to fight back and advance our tech level to nearer theirs. They do appear to be strangely selective as to what they destroy and what they leave alone. Look at how most the large cities haven't been touched. Why do the work when we can do it for them? After they finish us off, all they have to do is move in.”
“That's a depressing thought.” She winced. “However that isn't going to stop me from kicking their feathered butts back where they came from.”
“I'm almost of two minds about this.” I thought out loud. “If one of them is getting closer to understanding us then that might be a good thing. On the other hand, it could be bad too if they get better at knowing how to hurt us.”
“That is an idea.” She replied. “This one has proved himself a maverick just by being here. Like you said that could be good or bad. There is no way to be sure.
“You know.” She changed the subject. “That we're going to catch hell no matter what happens? Some will say you needed to press your Q-thingie button and beat the snot out of him the moment you saw him.”
“I know.” I nodded. “This just might be the ticket that gets me sent on that suicide mission I've been expecting. However, the last time we knowingly took on a Visitor personally, it took a complete Pantheon Team plus an entire armor brigade. That Alien foot from Paul's autopsy cost the lives of three-quarters of that Team, and for all practical purposes destroyed that Army unit.”
The causalities from that alone ran into the hundreds if not the thousands. The enemy robots and drones were deadly effective. Those soldiers had given their all so that the Pantheon Team could have their shot.
What the enemy forces didn't kill, the kinetic strike afterward finished. Our adversaries didn't like to lose and had learned the hard way it was a bad idea to let us get our grimy monkey-boy paws on any of their tech. Of course that only made us a lot better at not getting caught.
“I will bet that at the very least he has a security detail of stealthed robots nearby.” Sighing, I couldn't help but look at all the happy oblivious people and wonder how many were going to be alive by this time tomorrow. “His morphers give him the tools to cut me into little tiny bits, and I'm essentially untrained since I freak out every time I try and change.”
“What about all that martial arts stuff you've been taking?” She asked, moving closer.
“I know that the other me,” Explaining helped distract me from how she made me feel. “Is very strong, so I'm doing my best to play to that strength, pardon the pun. Power arts like karate, and boxing help me learn how to focus my attacks and how to throw a proper punch. If you can get close enough their hand to hand programing isn't that good, and you can kick some serious 'bot tin butt.”
“But?” She asked, hearing my pause.
“Their long range mass drivers will tear even a M1 Abrams to pieces in seconds.” I replied grimly. “And in the event they run out of ammo before their automation can reload from local resources, they have plasma burners that, although short range, they arc at 25,000 degrees C.”
“And his morphers can form one of those too.” She remembered her briefings.
“Yes,” I acknowledged. “And his Skin is much better than mine. This can stop small arms fire pretty good.” I tugged at the collar. “His can stop anything short of a cannon. That's why all they found of that one Visitor was only a foot. We had to hit it with shit so overwhelming that there wasn't much left afterward.
“The point is although I might be able to shout 'Shazam' and turn into Captain Marvel,” I took a deep breath calming the stress that even thinking about my dilemma caused me. “That me, THAT body is unfamiliar to me that at best I'll be clumsy. The reason for all the special training is accustom us to our new bodies and powers as well as teaching us all that special operation stuff. Additionally, as powerful as a Prometheus endowed Pantheon Team member might be, one Visitor and his bodyguard robots can easily level this entire city block and me with it.”
I left off the qualifier. In what testing I did do before becoming useless to everyone including myself, I did rate very high. That didn't particularly make me feel very comfortable given that of the five highest rated ever, three were dead, one was a crippled vegetable leaving just one who was still active on the Teams.
“What are you not telling me?” Sheila gave me that look. She knew me too well.
“That I really don't know what I can do.” I hedged. “There's no guarantee that I'll be of any use at all. You stayed with me and helped calmed my anxiety attack, that one time I changed for you, but transforming is not easy. The Q-Box is like a jump-starter. It only helps initiate the whole process. Older more experienced Pantheon's don't even bother with it. They can not only just will the change, they can stay hero'ed-up much longer. Even the cool down, before they can change again is shorter. The inexperienced, like me, need all the help they can get making it happen. I have to push hard to trigger the change.”
“So the inverse is true too.” She guessed right. “If you really lose it, you'll change back.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “The other night when I showed you THAT me, I didn't quite reach that point. You did a lot to help keep me from losing it. That was why I never made it to a Team. It would be just plain stupid to risk those lives with me being so unstable.
“The odds of me being able to capture him just plain suck.” I walked her though my reasoning. “All it would do is seriously endanger everyone here. Even if we pulled the fire alarm, the panic could cost lives and perhaps cause him and his robotic guards to react badly. Far, far better to just play it cool.” I was having second thoughts about sending for help, but it had gotten our guys out of here.
Looking heavenward, I prayed for a miracle. "Please Lord just let the Tweety go home before something bad happened, Amen."
Chapter Three
You would've thought that when Credence Clearwater Revival's 'Bad Moon Rising' began playing we would've gotten a clue, but sadly, no. We were so intent about possible trouble from the pair in the corner, we made a major mistake.
We'd forgotten this was a wild Halloween party and it was getting wilder the drunker everyone got. The booze was flowing, and passions were riding high. Factor in we were in a War in which nearly everyone had lost those dear to them, and then put one of those who'd rained death down from the heavens where he could be seen, then you have a problem.
With the room so crowded, we didn't pay the drunk who passed us with exaggerated care. That is until he got into the Visitor's face.
“F'ing Tweety!” He slurred, belligerently. “You should all fly back to your F'ing bird cage.”
“It's just a costume.” The frightened Mentat did his best to defuse the drunk.
My and Sheila's “Oh Shit” went without saying. The Visitor didn't appeared alarmed, but with Aliens who knew. I found myself moving before I'd actually decided on what to do.
“Stinking Tweeties think they can just take over our planet.” The Drunk continued, working himself up.
“Hey Friend.” I said, grasping the guy by the shoulder. Second thoughts ran though my head as it hit me just how big he was. I was only 5' 8” and this bruiser was well over six feet plus he outweighed me to boot.
As he turned around to glare at me, I realized he was probably military too given his buzz cut, muscle mass and, although drunk, the way he moved. Undoubtedly he'd been Captain America'ed with some sort of super-solider formula that all the armed services had embraced.
“Pantheon.” I touched my shoulder patch. “We have it all under control. Come on, let me buy you a drink.”
“Poser!” He snarled, having found a target for his anger.
My face exploded in pain as I flew backwards, spraying blood from my busted nose before bouncing to a stop on the floor. Here I am dressed in the best all purpose armor humanity could devise and he hits me in the one place where I'm not protected.
“You shouldn't have made me angry.” I blinked away the tears and wiped at the blood from my smashed schnoz. One of the things I didn't tell Sheila was that enough good old fashion adrenalin would work just as well as the Q-Box to kick-start the 'Shazam' thing. “You won't like me angry.”
He laughed and began to turn back around. Fine, I'd had about enough of this joker. I pushed the button.
Blinded by the flash of light that heralded my change his mouth hit the proverbial floor, and he wasn't the only one staring in shocked surprise. Mr. Mentat looked as if he just soiled himself and even our Visitor looked dismayed, half-raising from his seat as if in alarm.
I knew what they were seeing although I did my best not to think about it. A very tall extremely curvy, but supremely fit woman who while not as excessively ripped as a obsessed body-builder, each and every muscle were as clearly defined as if sculpted by an ancient Greek master.
The only truly exposed part of me was my head since my Skins had stretched and grown with me as designed. However, just as my uniform shamelessly displayed each and every one of my normal self's imperfections, they now hid absolutely nothing. I was a pornographic fantasy, an exaggeration straight out of the comics bearing little resemblance to the reality of a human being.
My face was just as unbelievable. The molten golden complexion belonged on a work of art, but it was alive, me. My shoulder blade length hair was just as impossible being a royal sapphire blue that looked liked gems spun into fibers. My eyes had an exotic slant and were emerald green which was accented by the blue jeweled eyelashes. My gilded lips were more reddish as if made out of rose-gold, an alloy of gold and copper.
Grasping onto my anger like a downing man, I set all that aside as far away as I could. 'Pushing' with my will against gravity, I rose like Paul's Dracula defying the physical laws of our universe. No one knew how the exactly how the Visitor's spacecraft engines worked, but we did know they twisted the laws of time and space. Clever monkey-boys that we were, humans excelled at putting them to use in ways their inventors never even conceived.
In a way, I was a living link to another dimension where the laws of reality were very different. A place that allowed a living woman made of precious metals. An universe that let people fly. That was Prometheus.
“Would you care to try that again?” I tilted my head quizzically while being thankful this joker was tall enough so I didn't have to look down and have one of THIS body's biggest challenges rubbed in my face. Let's just say looking down at my feet while like this was not easy and leave it at that!
“Sheila,” I turned to my friend, taking the opportunity while Mr. Drunk was dumfounded. “Get them out of here.”
Dressed in only her Tinkerbell costume and my sweater, she didn't hesitate for a second. Mr. Mentat didn't need any encouragement to urge his Alien friend that this was not a good place to be.
Apparently that was enough to motivate Mr. Drunk to try again.
Smack! A meaty fist hit the immovable object, my Skins covered hand.
Very carefully, I'd only interposed my open palm. Not knowing my own strength I was fully capable of crushing his hand into pulp.
“Sumbitch!” From his expression even that hurt a lot as he cradled his injured hand.
“Are we finished?” I asked inclining my head the other way. The bouncers were charging to the rescue.
I'd seen that Sheila’s exit hadn't triggered the emergency alarm which greatly simplified things. The reason I'd told her to run for it was because I thought the risk of mass death and mayhem being higher with a panicky Visitor than with scared people running out into a near blizzard. A few dead versus the entire vicinity being leveled to the ground.
Needless to say I was much happier with this solution.
“Hey guys!” I held up my hands showing the bouncers I wasn't going to be trouble. “Sorry, but I have to go. You might want to check the alarm on the backdoor.”
Leap, flying over their heads, I went as fast as dared without hurting anyone or bouncing off the ceiling. The reason why I didn't take the backdoor was because I would've reset the alarm. Just the same with me flying over everyone's heads, getting outside was fast.
Conditions outside was a right mess with several inches of snow covering the once tropical city, and more was coming down. That made it both harder and easier. Finding the backdoor to the club from the outside was a chore, but following the footprints leading from it was a piece of cake.
It was what I found at the end that was the kicker.
The Aliens' aerial drone of choice was rather like those in that old Tom Cruise movie, 'Oblivion.' Maybe a bit more egg shaped, but they had the same retractable weapon pods on the sides. Armament was usually plasma burners and about dozen missiles, six per side. Unlike their ground pounder cousins, the flying drones lacked the rail guns. Their required automated ammunition replenishment gear had to be in contact with the ground and, duh, they flew! However given the drone's high maneuverability and speed, that wasn't much of an disadvantage. Short ranged or not, the damn things could shove those damn plasma burners up your ass and pull the triggers before you could blink.
Right now, four of those things were hovering around Sheila, Mr. Mentat, and their boss, the Visitor.
I kinda pulled a double take when I realized my jeweled eyes let me see the hovering drones while the others couldn't. Hidden by the near whiteout conditions, the stealth units were invisible to everyone except for me.
I felt a lump drop into my guts as all four drones turned and extended their weapons at me!
He had to have some kind of override going since they should've just opened fire. Unfortunately, I'd stumbled into their kill zone. Very slowly I landed with my hands up next to a shivering Sheila.
“We have four stealth drones covering us.” I answered the question I saw in her eyes about why my hands were up.
Despite the cold, Mr. Mentat was sweating like crazy.
“I never expected Tash would take my invitation seriously!” He swallowed hard with fear.
“Please stay calm.” I only wished I could take my own advice! “I might be misunderstood, so could you help me out here?”
At his nervous nod, I spoke.
“Please, this is a night of celebration for us.” I hoped what I thought was non-threatening meant the same thing to them. “We don't want any trouble so just please leave.”
Mr. Mentat mostly just repeated my words, but put emphasis on different parts. As our Visitor slowly nodded, I thought we had just dodged a big bullet.
Then there were just three drones as the fourth blew up!
I threw myself around Shelia as a plasma burner squirted 25,000 degree C death. Not really thinking, I hoped me and my Skins would be enough to save her. The agony that washed over my back made me seriously doubt that.
My brains finally caught up with the fact, I had to still be alive to feel pain. Plus, I'd been stupid since I was the target and not her. All I'd done was put her into danger. About then the booms from the other M1 Abrams 120mm guns reached us. With their new power plants the damn things were damn near stealthy themselves especially with the cover of the near blizzard
That didn't last long as the tanks began to explode as the remaining three drones dodged the rest of the 120mm barrage and returned fire with their missiles usual deadly accuracy. Unfortunately, while this detachment did have the upgraded power plants, they still had the old style 120mm main guns and not been refitted with captured rail guns. With them they might've had a vague possibility of intercepting the missiles, without them, they had no chance at all.
Knowing that if our Visitor fell, it was a certainty that a kinetic strike would be streaking this way from orbit a heartbeat later, I felt my blood freeze. This was a no win scenario.
“Get him out of here.” I told Sheila for the second time tonight.
“I'm beginning to think you don't like me!” But she grinned letting me know she was joking. It was the kiss that rocked me.
“For luck!” Sheila yelled over her shoulder as she dodged for cover as another burner hit me.
Move it! I chided myself though the pain echoing over my entire body. While I didn't appear to be hurt, it had hurt like hell! I had some choice thoughts for the commander of those tanks too, but I was the idiot who'd sent for help. What the hell can you do when doing the right thing is exactly the wrong thing?
'Pushing' hard against the ground, I flew upwards like a rocket at the drone that'd been lighting me up. I noticed my fists were glowing white hot just a scant moment before that drone exploded in a rain of molten fragments!
Holy Shit!
However my surprise, let the other two pivot neatly in place. We'd learned that it really didn't matter if the Aliens' missiles were active seekers or not. They were so fast, that for all practical purposes they were direct fire even if they could go around the proverbial corner.
The first missile's warhead blew, throwing me spinning out of control crunching into a corner of a masonry building. My brightly glowing body caused the frozen ice and bricks to explode like a superheated iron bar thrust into a vat of liquid nitrogen.
The second missile took out the other two-thirds of the structure, and buried me in the debris. I could only hope the place had been unoccupied because it was completely demolished.
I had another of 'those' moments pulling myself free. Damn but didn't my breasts hurt! Mind you, the plasma burners should've incinerated me and the missiles ought to have vaporized what was left, but no. I fretted over my aching breasts that hurt very much the same way as if someone had kicked me in the balls.
Somehow, my Skins had stayed more or less intact at least in the front. My back that had taken the burners, well, lets just say it was drafty back there.
An A-64 zoomed overhead heading into the fray. We'd learned damn fast that helicopters were dead meat in this this new kind of war. However, Project Prometheus wasn't the only use we'd found for the Alien engines. Refitted, Apaches, while not the best aircraft in the world did give the drones a lot more of a fight without those pesky rotor blades. Hell, maybe someday a purposed designed attack bird using the new tech would reach the boys on the pointed end of the stick. Till then, you used what you had to hand.
That only made me wince as the A-64 Super-Apache cut loose with a full salvo of Hell-Fires right before it was engulfed by a ball of plasma.
Streaking upwards, I belatedly pulled my hood over my head. Hoping for whatever protection it could give, I zipped right though the blazing remains of that doomed crew and machine. My gambit worked as I bushwhacked their killer on the other side, who never saw me coming. My hands glowed again, but not nearly as bright. Still while it didn't explode my arms sunk all the way up to my elbows in its tough armored hide. Recalling yet another movie, I grabbed what I could and yanked, hard.
There was a sharp CRACK as it lurched to one side spewing bright electrical arcs and smoke. A telltale whine increased until something else went wrong in it innards. Losing power, it crashed leaving me feeling very satisfied.
Dropping my handfuls of parts, maybe this girl thing wasn't so bad after all.
Grinning, I oriented myself as to where I was and headed for the sounds of the guns.
A burning M1 was being pushed forward by another as it tried to get close enough to get a clear shot at an Alien infantry 'bot. Being a stealth unit it was damn hard to see anyways and while lost in the ground clutter a very hard target unlike the first flying drone which had forgotten an M1's sensors could see perfectly well at night as well as though the snow.
The ground pounder stealth 'bot wasn't anywhere near the size of the tank, being about my height, but having the build of a squat gorilla. Lacking the boxy shape so many robots from the imaginations of various media, it was a rounded stylized humanoid with Popeye forearms where its weapons were housed.
Unfortunately for that tank crew, the 'bot wasn't hindered by their tactic at all. It's twin rail guns cut loose on full auto, throwing a tidal wave of sparks from the burning tank like a nail hitting a grinder as it cut the hulk in two. With the automated ammunition gathering system in the feet, making bullets for it to fire, the bot was not only anchored, but had an inexhaustible supply of munitions.
But there was a problem with that.
It also made it the perfect stationary target. I crashed into the 'bot knocking it over and happily tearing off one foot. There was no glowing hands this time, but I put one hell of a dent in it. Gyros screaming, it rolled upright, standing on its one intact leg.
“Say good night, Gracie!” I smiled as it tried to bring up its plasma burners.
The 120mm depleted uranium round was more than enough to make me duck and cover from the flying wreckage. Perhaps the tankers were trained to shoot at larger targets, but the ones that lived learned real fast.
Giving the tankers a wave, I took to the air again. Counting the smaller burning wreckage, it looked as if we had gotten all the 'bots, but I couldn't see any signs of Sheila and the boys.
Making myself think, I climbed as high as the low snowy clouds would let me and still see. Somewhere out here our Visitor had to have his ride parked. On the ground was out, because one of us monkeys might stumble across it. However, a roof would be perfect. It could be set to just hover and never make contact with the roof at all.
My smile got wide as I spotted the clear circle among all the snow on a roof top. It was too warm for the snow to stick to the spacecraft and its active camouflage didn't take into account the situation changing because of the weather. Not a mistake a solider would make, but an academic?
The saucer reminded me of the one from the 'Day the Earth Stood Still.' It was super smooth and streamlined with none of the projections and clutter SF movies from after that classic film sported.
Spotting them wasn't hard once I'd narrowed down the area in which to look. Poor Sheila was looking half frozen as she climbed out onto the roof and Mr. Mentat was nearly as bad. The Visitor in his Skins didn't even notice the weather.
Okay let's try this again. As peaceably as I could I floated down more lightly then even one of the many flakes that was still falling.
This time the Visitor's hand went to his morpher. Well, without his escort 'bots I could see how he might feel a little threatened.
“You're alive!” Sheila damn near took both of us off the roof with her tackle.
Squishing, err, breast things, didn't exactly set my anxiety alarms to ringing, but it was more I didn't know what to think about the sensation.
“You, you, you're alive!” Mr. Mentat stuttered disbelievingly. “I saw them shoot you with a burner!”
“That's what she said.” I found myself hugging her back. Weird sensations or not, hugs were good. Just being alive was good too.
“While we're at it.” I smiled. “Would you mind repeating our request for our Visitor to please leave before something else happens?”
The burning fires reminded me too pointedly that they were funeral pyres of warriors who died believing they were protecting their land and homes. Somehow I kept from projecting that anger onto our Visitor. I prayed that somehow some good came of this.
I heard the name 'Tash' again as they spoke.
“You know you're a bit exposed back here don't you?” Sheila rubbed my bare back, but made me jump when her hand went lower.
Without thinking I looked down and of course found my line of sight blocked by a pair of twin mountains. That did start ringing the alarm bells, but trying to work around it, I used my hands to discover that wasn't the only bare spot. Perhaps my 'front' was covered, but that was about it. One leg was completely nude and the rest of my Skins had tears and holes from being buried and plasma burner blasts. Even my Batman belt was gone.
“Damn it, my wallet and keys were in there.” I cursed softly not wanting to sour the delicate negotiations taking place. However, at a guess I must have lost the belt right at the beginning when I got shot in the back. With luck it would still be there.
That line of thought kept me from thinking about just how exposed THIS me was right now. Maybe my tattered uniform covered more than a bikini, but not by much.
All the while Sheila held me and I felt my heartbeat or whatever was in my chest slow to something like normal.
“He has things to ask you.” Mr. Mentat turned to us.
“You, one of quantum'ed cursed would let me depart?” Tash asked.
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “There would be nothing to gain and much to lose. You would not surrender. I saw your hand go to your weapon. If that was not enough despite how tempting of a prize your and your ship would make, do you think your shipmates would hesitate to bomb us from orbit to prevent just such an event?”
At his nod of agreement, I continued. “Tonight there are those celebrating being alive and being with the ones they care about. They don't deserve a death, not tonight or any night, but I'll take what I can get. It is far better for you to just leave.”
“But tomorrow is another day.” I smiled as Sheila and I hugged.
He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped.
“Why would you give up the one quantum pattern that in all the universes and dimensions that make you unique?” He asked.
Listening to the science guys gave me something of a clue of what he was talking about.
“Because to keep those we care and love safe we would dare anything and anyone.” I replied evenly. “You called me cursed, but instead I say we're warriors willingly putting ourselves between danger and the ones we're sworn to protect.
“Call us Quantum Warriors if you must.” It was an effort not to grin at that, but not at what came next. “When your people made 'that' purchase they made a bad decision. I would ask you to think about it and what you have learned of us.”
“I will.” He replied, but then took a hesitating step toward us.
“This is the custom, yes?” He held out his hand.
“Yes it is.” I took his hand careful of my strength. “Hello I'm Halcyon.”
“Hello,” He replied, back. “I'm Tash.”
“Do your people have a similar custom?” I asked, catching Mr. Mentat's attention so he knew he was being included in this.
“If I may? He asked, Tash, who nodded his assent.
“It's similar to the old Roman salute with the fist bought over the heart” The Dune aficionado explained. “But with the palm turned out to show they bear no weapon. Their arms are articulated a little differently than ours, which makes it a little awkward for us.”
“Our custom had a similar beginning.” I tried out the motion which was as he said not really intended for humans, but I didn't let that stop me.
Gravely he returned the gesture and nearly made my heart stop as he touched one of the morphers at his belt.
“You call this Trick or Treat, yes.” His beak like lips made what I think was his version of a smile. “I choose to give a Treat.”
My Skins regenerated right before my eyes as he touched them. Normally, yes, they would self-repair, but not anywhere near this fast. On the other hand there was a small problem.
“You know that in Earth culture it is the monsters who get the treat or do the trick?” I looked down at him trying to ignore the 'landscape' on my chest.
Our Mentat inhaled sharply in alarm at my insult.
“You have no conception of how my people regard those like yourself who have had their quantum patterns eradicated.” Tash then turned to offer Sheila his hand and introductions.
That was a point I really couldn't argue. Before the war, some of things Prometheus did to people would be right out of the horror movies. Then again I'd always cheered for the underdog, the monster, anyways in the old movies.
She just as seriously shook his hand and did the hand over the chest thing.
I think all of this kinda broke our Mentat, but he took Tash's hand and did the Alien salute as if he'd just won a lottery jackpot.
Then we watched as he entered his craft and departed, raising into the falling snow until out of sight lost in the low heavy clouds.
“I think just maybe we did something very significant here tonight.” Mr. Mentat said, looking up.
I noticed that somewhere in all of this he'd lost one of his fake bushy eyebrows.
“Yes, we did.” Sheila looked up at me as she said it, and I don't think she was thinking about the War.
There was no need for me to say anything so I didn't. I couldn't say I was comfortable as a living female statue, but having her with me, made it far less uncomfortable. Plus, I had things to think about, Tash.
Not a Visitor, unwanted Guest, or even a Tweety, but Tash. He had a name and had given it freely. Just maybe we weren't doomed after all.
“Halcyon, “ Sheila asked, using my code name. “You said Project Prometheus just kind of copied your other self in that superhero universe, right? It didn't steal that person's powers or anything did it?”
“Why do you ask?” As we moved off the roof I could feel the cold even if it didn't set my teeth to chattering.
“It was what he said about losing your unique quantum pattern thing.” She looked so small standing next to me.
“From what I understand we couldn't have done that even if we wanted.” I did my best to explain what little I understood about it as I took her in my arms and flew us down.
“We can tap that power in that other universe, but we can't touch the place or anyone in it. Think of a river where you can draw off water as it flows downstream, but you can't fight the current to go further up.” We could see the emergency lights of the rescue crews as I carried her since she made no objections. As a matter of fact the little minx looked as if she was loving every minute of it.
“How about Einstein’s gig about even observing an event changes it.” She grinned up at me.
“I really don't know.” Seeing all the activity, made me dread the coming debriefing. This was not going to be fun. “You think Prometheus somehow changed things there?”
We heard our one-brow Mentat trying to catch up with us.
“Not Prometheus.” Shelia smiled, “You. Seeing you changed me.”
Pulling my head down, she kissed me, but this time I knew it wasn't just for luck.
One storyteller might describe the place as being in another universe far, far away, but another older spinner of tales would say “It's though a door opened with the Key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension — a dimension of sound, of sight, and of the mind, The Twilight Zone.” A scientist would speak of other dimensions as well, but add in that in the infinity of universes, this one sat at the very peak of endless possibilities. He might say that it was a marvelous place so filled with energy and potential, but yet it still allowed life to flourish.
Or he could say, “Screw it! Rod was right!”
Lapis Iazuli opened her jewel eyes. Time had little meaning for her trapped and bound in this body by the Golem Master. She'd suffered such terrible cruelties that it had broken, no shattered her. The horrifying things that she'd been forced to do had been the final blow that sent the remaining bits of her sanity retreating to the deepest, darkest corners of her mind to hide from the unspeakable, nightmarish memories.
She could hardly remember being male. However, the awful all consuming agony as the evil alchemist tore and rendered that body, her very essence into ingredients to fashion this jeweled prison made of priceless metals, could never be forgotten.
Even her old name was lost to her. Lapis Lazuli was the only one she knew and answered to. She was worse off than a slave who at least had the option to disobey despite knowing they would be punished. Not so for her who was treated like a robot, a machine.
But something had changed. Irregular at first something had somehow touched her as gently as the softest breeze. The first tickle had somehow healed enough of her splintered sanity to waken her sense of self that had laid buried for so very long. The second had returned her awareness, the ability to reason and think that had been stripped from her, but it was the latest that was truly priceless. She had a measure of free will.
Lapis Lazuli couldn't disobey orders from her dread Master, but anything that wasn't covered by those orders and the commandments that was literally written in the stone that controlled and bound her, was now up to her discretion.
So very slowly a smile graced her gilded rose-gold lips. No matter how long it took she would bide her time carefully and with great deliberation.
After enduring so much her anger had long ago burned out leaving only an icy cold, pitiless purpose. Perhaps much of her memory was hopelessly forever scrambled by the horrendous fate to which she'd been shackled, but this she did recall.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
When things are their darkest it's important to give thanks and even more important to have hope.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who at the very last moment spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
I wearily leaned against the half-buried wreckage smoking in the snowdrift. The twisted and bent hot metal hissed as it melted the ice. Looking up at the sky, the morning darkness had reluctantly yielded to simple murk as the sun rose hidden by the heavy overcast. Exhausted, I needed all the help I could get just to stand. At my feet, a growing pile of thumb sized rail-gun projectiles were being spilled out onto the icy ground by the destroyed 'bot's auto ammunition supply system, unaware that its services were no longer needed.
Nudging one with my boot, it really sucked to hit by those damn things. As I was continuing to learn, it was very hard to injure me, but that didn't mean lesser efforts didn't hurt like hell. Not only that, but it was disturbing as all get out to see the golden skin, that passed as my flesh, do this dimply ripple as hypersonic projectiles tore though me as it sealed up behind their passage.
I'd nearly died for the real the first time it happened. I was so freaked out I changed back to the normal flesh and blood me, Craig Elder. Made just the way my parent's DNA mandated, that me was just so much dead meat in the type of battle Mankind and our invading Visitors were fighting over dear old planet Earth.
Fortunately, I was lucky enough that I hadn't been changed long enough to trigger a 'cool down' delay and pure fear gave me more than enough help to do my Shazam thing back onto HER, Halcyon. As much as being a seven feet tall woman sculpted out of gold with emerald jeweled eyes and hair spun out of sapphires, freaked me out, being dead was even more distasteful.
In the distance, I could hear the sounds of the Third Herd, US Army Third Armor Division, smashing their way though the remains of our Visitor's beach head here in downtown Detroit.
“Welcome to Motor City, boys.” I looked over the white frozen shroud over the ruins what was once a major metropolis. After the kinetic bombardment and two battles, not much was left standing or otherwise.
I suppose I should just say the gender neutral 'tankers' rather than boys, given nearly as many were women with losses being so heavy and the drive to put every able bodied person into uniform. Whatever their sex, the Third Herd's tankers crushed what was left after I'd finished taking out the automated command center, putting what 'bots remained of this landing attempt entirely on their own programming.
We had learned the hard way how to take advantage of the 'bots' limited intelligence. They really weren't that smart on their own and not being in coordination as one big unit, it was much easier to take them out. Of course our being able to jam our unfriendly Visitors communications really changed things. It wasn't easy and definitely had bugs, like not lasting very long, but we could and did throw a monkey wrench into our unfriendly Visitor's remotely operated invasion.
They responded by sending down these very capable heavily armed and armored 'tank-like Command' units that used 'line of sight' lasers and other means which we couldn't interrupt or interfere with their orders. While still operating on their own, the tanks were a hell of a lot better and smarter soldiers than the 'bots and drones built-in programing. Worse, they also sent along automated factories, auto-facs. If they weren't taken out damn fast, then they would very quickly turn a landing site, into a beach head, and then a fortress teeming with new built war machines.
That was where I came in.
What! Aliens landing in force in the bombed out ruins of Detroit? Send Pantheon Sgt. Elder on a suicide mission!
The Third Herd's M1A5's had our version of the invader's fusion plant and was armed with captured rail-guns. The 'crack' of the hypersonic weapons sounded like so many firecrackers going off as the tankers roared though the Alien's perimeter.
As nice as the new tech was, the Abrams were still the smallest thing we had that could mount the rail-guns. Our copy of their fusion power plant was just too damn big to fit on anything smaller and the guns drew that much power. Additionally, their recoil was a bitch and a half which the M1 was well able to handle.
A flight of A-64 attack birds whizzed over head taking the defenders in the back. Those too used captured tech. In this case, the engines from the enemy's drones that turned the converted AH-64 Apaches attack helicopters into virtual high performance aircraft. That is, very fragile high performance wreckage, if the pilots weren't careful.
I winced as one of the aircraft turned into an expanding ball of plasma as a Visitor aerial drone lit it up with a plasma burner.
Standing up, I took a deep breath of the freezing air. The stench of ozone and burnt metal was thick on the winter morning air. Besides the tank-like wrecked command unit, there were nearly a dozen mangled 'bots and about half that many burning drones. In trying to defend itself, it'd sent every nearby unit it had at me.
It hadn't been enough.
I was really starting to lose my patience about this. After all, this marked my third
'suicide' mission to date. I was beginning to the get the feeling that General Benson was getting a little put out that I had the temerity to survive.
Mind you, I should've died more times than I could count, but when Project Prometheus comes though, it really comes though. Well, except for altering that other ME so greatly that I freaked out every time I tried to use it. That part wasn't so good.
And all I did was go to a Halloween party.
It hadn't even been a month, and I still didn't know how I felt about all that had happened on that snowy evening.
Okay, I'm lying. Sheila had rocked my world to such an extent that she had succeeded where all the shrinks had failed. I'd reached a compromise, if a shaky one, with myself and that golden impossibility I saw in the mirror, Halcyon.
As a man, Craig, normal me, she and I friends and I dare say even close. However, apparently Halcyon got her 'motor' running like crazy. Should I be jealous of myself? One part of me wanted to be mad at her. Was she so shallow that she liked Halcyon while ignoring we were the same person?
However, no matter how I tried, I just couldn't stay mad at the blond Zoomie Staff Sergeant. Restored to her youth after living a very full long life, she was bound and determined to live this second chance of hers to the fullest.
A great-great-grandmother, I had the distinct feeling that she actually leaned the other way, maybe being bi-sexual. Sheila didn't seem to harbor any anger or spite at her previous life, so I didn't think she'd been a closeted lesbian. Instead she appeared to be determined try something different this time around.
As for liking one me more than the other, she addressed that this way.
“You like it when a woman dresses up all nice and sexy for you don't you?” She'd smiled, teasingly.
“Well, yeah.” I'd admitted, blushing wildly at the thought of her in lingerie.
“That goes for me too.” She'd purred. “I care for you no matter what shape you're in, but when you're Halcyon, it's as if you're all dressed up and gift wrapped just for me.”
A madly pinwheeling 'bot flying high though the chill air reminded me that I was on a battlefield. Pantheon Team Epsilon's strongman and leader, Achilles, was anything but subtle. From our very first meeting, he treated me like expendable ordnance.
I got the whole, I was sent out here to die, bit. Hell, I was expecting it since I had so much trouble dealing with Prometheus's Gift. However, I knew something was very rotten when I wasn't sent to the Alpha or Beta, the training teams, after I'd survived not once but twice after being thrown into the deep end.
With this third time cheating death, I didn't expect it to change anything. This wasn't the Army making the best use of its assets in a bad situation or even, do I dare say it, as a punishment for Halloween night. This was an attempt to kill me because I'd pissed off the wrong person.
Glancing down at my Q-Box's timer, I had just over a hour left before I would involuntarily change back to normal. I didn't doubt for a moment that, if anyone saw me 'resting' it would get back to General Benson, who would chew my ass out for goldbricking while brave soldiers put their lives on the line.
It was a good thing that I recovered relatively quickly, but that didn't make the pain any easier to endure. Even now my very nerves felt seared raw from all the plasma and rail-gun hits. My entire body felt as if I'd been skinned and burned alive.
Disregard the fact I didn't have a mark on me, my uniform Skins looked like a sieve from all the holes and burns. It was good thing that since Tash's Halloween 'treat' that my uniform acted like generation zero Skins, being tougher and self-repairing far faster than they used to. Otherwise I would be out here naked, stripped bare by all the gun fire and plasma burners.
As mentally fried as I was, I wasn't about to let either asshole, Benson or Achilles, have the pleasure of seeing me down. Besides, with the tactical advantage or not, Third Herd could use the help. Achilles' Team could take care of their own damn selves since they had three times now thrown me into the lion's den.
Launching myself skyward like a missile I tackled a drone that was lining up on an attack run on an Abrams. I couldn't keep the 'Yee-haw' from my lips as I rode the alien machine into the ground. This Suicide Girl thing did have its moments.
Staring at the blue goop on my plate, I poked it with my spoon. It was a good sign it didn't scamper off or fight back.
The debriefing, as always, was a cast iron bitch. More like an interrogation, the asses-in-charge couldn't accept or believe that I took as much damage as I stated, nor that I smashed as many 'bots as I claimed.
“Listen.” I encouraged the rear echelon idiot. “The enemy beach head has been secured. That means that command tank was put out of commission. Since I was dropped right the middle of their perimeter all by myself while everyone else stood back and watched, that means I'm the one who did the deed.
“That being the case, just maybe what I've being telling you for the past two hours of what happened and how I did it just might be true.” Closing my eyes, I counted to five.
I will not lose my temper.
I will not lose my temper.
I will not lose my temper.
A hour later, the Asshole-In-Charge finally released me and what do I have to look forward to? Soylent Blue. In the race to find something, anything to save all the people who were going to starve to death from the nuclear or more accurately, the Impact Winter from our Visitor's kinetic bombardments, the science boys and girls had come up this.
I poked the blue goop again.
Add a feed sized sack of this stuff to just about any water tight container and add water and as much bio-matter as you could. Keep it warm and don't let it freeze, and in a week or two you had this blue stuff you could skim off the top.
I understood that priorities had changed, as some fusion plants meant for the tanks and aircraft of the military had instead been set aside for Blue Soylent kits to change just about any kind of containment tank to producing food. Water tanks, tanker trailers, and even I hear super-tankers, have been pressed into duty to make food.
After all if all of your people are dead you have no one to protect. Additionally, with the intense cold that many areas were unaccustomed to, as well as the power grid being in tatters, the power from the fusion plants not only kept the makeshift food vats warm and productive, but also kept the people from freezing too.
It was great stuff, right?
Quoting a certain Australian, “Well, you can live on it, but it tastes like shit.”
Okay, maybe not that bad. There were lots of 'recipes' starting to float around with attempts to improve the flavor. A few like the beans and franks weren't too bad and neither were the chicken and dumplings. The tamales, chicken fried rice and a couple other tries at more worldly tastes were nothing, but world class fails.
Just plain yuk!
Plus, no matter the taste, there was nothing to do about the texture. About the best I'd tried came out more like jello than, well, slime. However, it would keep you alive indefinitely if not happy with the diet.
That wasn't the reason for my … unhappiness.
It was the smell of the steaks that the official members of Pantheon Team Epsilon were enjoying. Not all of them were having steaks, but it was at their option. Meanwhile I was stuck with Soylent Blue.
Let's just say it was all adding to the general unfairness I was feeling. Yeah, I know life isn't fair, but considering how topsy-turvy my life had been recently, I think I deserved a little slack.
With a real force of will, I lifted the spoon of pretend chicken ala king to my lips and managed to choke it down. There was only one possible response to this. Using another quote from one of my favorite childhood cartoons, “Of course you know this means war.”
“Sergeant Elder reporting as ordered, Sir.” I held my salute while standing at attention.
The man at the desk made me wait even though he'd granted me permission to enter his small office here on the airborne command center. Okay, it was really just a converted Airbus A380, but the military always had to make the most mundane things sound overly important.
That was much like the man at the desk, who finally acknowledged my existence as much as he might desire otherwise. All he lacked from being a the stereotypical, die hard Army General was the chomping on a cigar.
Tall, well muscled and with rugged features, I knew that 90% of it all was faked. He'd been Captain American'ed with the Army's super-solider formula and, because I'd seen the before and after pictures, he'd chosen a few cosmetic features not available to the normal rank and file. Rank has it privileges and apparently, looking like a Hollywood leading man was one of them.
Technically he was the commander of the Eastern United States Quick Reaction Task Force. In reality, he was the man who got the blame every time an Alien incursion did more than leave burn marks from their landings anywhere east of the Mississippi. It was, at the best of times, a thankless job, and I did not envy him in the slightest.
On the other hand, it had become clear that he was not the right man for the job. His response was like a man with a hammer. You see a problem, hammer it until it goes away. You know, the only good Alien was a dead Alien regardless of the cost.
Our General could fight, but he lacked the wily craziness to really make a difference in this kind of War. We needed a Scipio Africanus, a Napoleon, who could improvise their tactics on the run, but instead we had a Ulysses S. Grant, a Patton, whose aggressive instincts demanded they attack and keep on attacking until the enemy was dead, dead, dead.
He was also the man who was trying to kill me.
Rumors control had it that, although Sheila, Dean Miller, and I hadn't divulged the full details of what happened Halloween evening, General Benson was furious that one of the Invaders had been so close, but had escaped. Forget the risk to a major US city and the nearby very important military base. One of the hated enemy had been within reach and had gotten away.
If he'd known everything that really occurred that night, I'm sure he would've had a coronary on the spot, but just the edited version was enough for him to send me on that suicide mission I'd been expecting. Then he did it again and yet again.
Dean Miller, who dressed as a Mentat from Dune that night, was protected from his wrath as was Sheila. The other guys in our office were too, since they weren't under our dear General's command. However, I'd offered myself up as sacrifice and he was only too glad to snap at the bait.
While I was temporarily attached to the US Alien Warfare Command, USAWC, I was still part of the Joint Special Operations Command. There, he did have the influence to get me assigned to Pantheon Team Epsilon which was under his direct control.
The look he gave me was cold enough to freeze the sun itself. Unfortunately for him, his murder attempts had me burning just a mite hotter than even that.
“At ease.” He reluctantly ordered, clearly desiring to keep me locked up at attention. “I have a request from the Prometheus Project for you to report for testing and evaluation.
“You never completed testing?” He tossed the folder onto desk not hiding his disgust.
“No sir.” I answered. Maybe it'd been ages since my active service days, but I did remember two of the military's golden rules. Never volunteer for nothing and keep it simple stupid.
Besides I'd been the one to poke ole Doc Schneider. Successful recipients of Prometheus's 'gifts' had a communications priority back to the Project to keep them appraised of our progress and or problems if any. Hell, it was an outright requirement which I'd admittedly been lax about. However, it was a way of going not over the heads of my commanding officers, but legally around them.
In the stratospheric rareness that a 'problem' child like me survived their 'test' under fire, it was accepted that they had beaten whatever difficulties that kept them from training or joining a Pantheon Team. They were recalled to finish the program, and not sent in untrained again and again until they were killed.
I would have to admit that I also had a reason to live now. Sheila had made me make another of her impossible to keep promises to come back to her. So far I'd walked away from three forlorn hopes, but our Guests from faraway weren't dummies. Sooner or later they would find something that worked, and that would be very bad for me.
That was why I'd stacked the deck in my favor. Prometheus gave you access to another you in another universe and dimension. What it did not do was change your base form, shape, the you that was born here in this reality.
So why did my bald spot start sprouting hair again after twenty years? That wasn't the only change either. I couldn't help but notice I was much fitter and had lost much of that spare tire I'd carried around with me for so long.
Honestly, I could pass for being decades younger, and that scared the crap out of me. What if I was changing into THAT other me, permanently? While I had made inroads about not freaking out about being HER, being stuck as HER all the time put me in a panic that scared the hell out of me. It took a long call on a secure line I wasn't suppose to have access to, with Sheila to calm me down.
However there was no signs of femininity or anything like HER in what was happening to me. It was just me becoming younger which, while not unwanted, it was still 'not' what Prometheus was supposed to do.
Doc Schneider had been very excited by the news, but more telling was the news that he and Project Prometheus had known nothing about my case being transferred to the do-or-die category. Not that it'd been a not so subtle play on my part to put a little urgency on their end to get me out of the cross-hairs, but if the General wanted to play hard ball so could I.
Time passed as he stared at me, waiting for me to say something else.
“There has also been another request from the USAWC for you to consult with their Intell Center.” He didn't try to hide his disgust. “You've been in contact with them?”
“Yes Sir.” I answered, but this time I felt I couldn't get away with yes or no answers. Besides those communications were fully documented. “My departure from that temporary assignment was sudden and they needed my input on a perhaps vital piece of information.”
“And that was?” He demanded.
As much as I wanted to security clearance his ass and tell him he didn't have a need to know, I decided against it.
“Sir, during the events in Tampa during Halloween, things came to light that suggested that some of the Aliens' actions, while normally indecipherable to us, might be due to cultural differences because of their higher technology level.
“And that is important, why?” Clearly he was not impressed with the intelligence coming out of the Center.
Personally I couldn't blame him. We were operating in the dark, trying to make sense of actions that were, well, alien to the way we thought.
“It's not much, Sir.” I admitted. “But it is a clue to their behavior, which is more than we had before. It's also an insight into how their technology has molded their culture and possible dangers from it. We've been forced to adopt and use stuff we don't understand in simple self-defense. Knowing there are pitfalls ahead can at least warn us to be careful.”
“Such as?” He asked, almost sounding interested.
“Nanotechnology.” I answered. There no way in hell I was going to mention Project Prometheus and how I was referred to as being Quantum Cursed, a monster.
“They obviously have mastered its use and yet they use it very sparely. That suggests that the Aliens may have experienced significant problems in its development. Think of our own problematic history with nuclear energy. Despite the useful qualities, the image those words conjure is a mushroom cloud.” I added, “Sir.”
“When I see useful intelligence then I'll believe it.” He replied coldly.
“Orders have been cut for you to travel to McDill and then on to Camp MacKall.” He stared at me for a minute more before giving me my cue to leave. “Dismissed.”
Somehow I kept from tap dancing on the way out, but I did know how the game was played. Salute, about face and I was outa there!
As excited as a kid at Christmas, I had to grin at the irony. While fighting for my life, I'd completely forgotten about Thanksgiving. Not that I had any proof, but knowing Shelia and how good she was at getting what she wanted, I had a feeling she'd been behind my return to McDill just in time for the holiday.
The trip from Eglin AFB, that's near Ft. Walton Beach, to McDill wasn't too bad, all things considered. The majority of the Pantheon Teams were based out of Eglin, as well as General Benson's command group.
It being impossible to predict where our Visitors would strike, the Army had adopted the tactic of having it's less mobile heavy units positioned at key locations where the nearest would race to the sounds of the guns. Meanwhile the General and his staff, along with Special Forces and Pantheon teams, would provide the command and control as well as the heavy hitting power.
It was thought the regular Army units would be the support for the unconventional warfare elements. So far this tactic had worked. Straight out assaults without first taking out those command tanks were expensive, as the French had learned the hard way.
The Aliens had put down in the mountains where it was hard to reach them. The French, feeling the stress of knowing the autofacs were digging in preparing to setup a very short supply line of reinforcements for the invaders, charged in. You couldn't fault their bravery, but the casualties were nearly on a WWI scale. It was bad.
I'd been worrying that our uninvited Guests would come up with an answer to our tactic. Already, the latest command tank had nearly double the weapons, concentrating on the short range stuff and had better coverage, as well as fields of fire compared to the first one I fought. They even had specialized escort 'bots with more long range firepower to make up for their lack.
Grabbing my kit bag, I headed to my flight. McDill AFB, being fairly nearby and a major command center, had frequent flights going that way. It was easy to grab a 'space-available' seat on a military plane, a C-130J, the latest model of the old and very reliable Hercules transport.
The trip didn't take that long, but it sure seemed like it did. I'd amused myself by adding my latest kills to my uniform, unofficially of course. The Army's official uniform was the outmoded ACU Army Combat Uniform. With the active camouflage from my Skins, the printed design was only an affection and of no practical value. However, the Teams had learned to modify their Skins uniform to hide images in the patterns. In my case I was using pixelated images from the ancient Space Invaders game to stand for the number of tanks, 'bots, and drones I'd wrecked.
It was on my left inside sleeve so almost no one noticed, it being mostly for bragging rights. The reason I'd begun following the fad was because of a certain blowhard named Achilles. He'd given me so much grief after I survived that first, let's-throw-the-newbie-into-the-deep-end, that I wanted to rub his nose in a nice big slice of humble pie.
He really didn't like me and I think that was because of THAT change of mine. It made him very uncomfortable just because visual evidence confirmed he found THAT arousing.
That very thought was beyond disgusting, but that was his problem. Taking 'his' problem out on me with all the harassment and petty crap he caused me were my problem. Just once he tried that strongman 'let's arm wrestle' thing on me.
He couldn't budge my arm, and it ended in default when the table collapsed under the stress we had it under. For all of that, I'd feared he would challenge me to hand to hand 'training' next. Sure THAT me was one strong and tough bitch, but I was also untrained.
Achilles on the other hand, was experienced and at the top of his game. However, he never even suggested it, which demonstrated his character amply. Once I showed him I could match, or even overcome him, he backed off the physical stuff.
What I got instead was the worst food, the most uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and lots of other bullshit I neither wanted or needed.
My kill count was my only, not so subtle 'finger' at my fearless leader, although the C-130's load-master’s eyes as he saw the triple roll of icons hidden in the squiggly shapes of the camo was enjoyable. Even as my old everyday self, I no longer looked like the Pillsbury Dough Boy in a latex catsuit.
Hell, I dare say I had a chance at completing the Special Ops training without resorting to using my Q-Box. I had changed that much and yes, the Craig me was in that good of shape. That was why I was able to get close to my objective before pushing the 'button' when on a mission. That really helped, given that time limit on my staying transformed.
Then we were descending for our landing at McDill. Fiddling with my suit controls saved my 'kill' markers, and changed the color scheme back to the Skins version of Dress Blues, the Army's service uniform. Well, as close as a skin tight catsuit could come.
Pulling out my black beret, I prepared to put it on after I got off the flight line. Slipping on the gloves I got the shivers as the softness enveloped my hands. Unluckily for me since I was flying military I had to be in the right uniform. That meant my nice warm, concealing parka and mittens weren't allowed.
I had however learned a few tricks. Not all of Team Epsilon were assholes, but they did have to live with their 'fearless' leader. Athena had taken mercy on me and showed me some of the stuff that wasn't common knowledge. That is, after she saw I wasn't going to be just another faceless newbie bound for a body bag.
The molten metal shininess of the Skins could be altered. What you do is take the material you wanted to copy and place it in the inner lining of your Batman belt. Then the active camouflage system would project that 'texture' onto the suit, which the 'on-board' system wouldn't do.
That also let me hide just how good my Skins were these days, since Tash gave me an 'upgrade' during Halloween. That was one more question that I didn't need right now.
Sheila meeting me on the flight line with a big smile however, was something I needed, badly. At least this time she didn't tackle me.
“I've missed you!” She hugged me as we walked to the Air Force blue sedan. I really wished for a good old gas powered monster given those had a real heater. Electric cars? Not so much at least not in this kind of cold. Well, being out of that wind was a help.
“You have no idea.” I returned her hug as soon as we shut the doors. She'd been my touchstone that had kept me sane. Without her I would've been truly lost among those who were not my friends.
“Hey we got you out of there for a little while anyways.” Her kiss shorted my brains out. All I could do was return her passion.
“I wish you didn't have to go back.” She finally pulled away so we could both breathe.
“I don't.” It was my turn to surprise her. “I managed a chain of command bypass. I'm to report to Prometheus at Camp MacKall after this is over.”
“But you are leaving again.” She pouted.
“Yeah, but I'm not being sent out on one suicide mission after another till I jig where I should've jived. General Benson isn't the most subtle of commanders. He's been using Pantheon and me as assault troops against these permanent landing site attempts. So far its worked, but really this isn't costing them anything.” I pointed with my head to the sky.
“Yeah,” Sheila nodded her understanding. “Just more robots that the Tweeties can make by the gross. It is too bad you haven't been able to capture one of those automated factories of theirs.”
“I know.” I sighed as she set us to moving. “And our Guests are getting smarter. There is some kind of fail safe that, when the command tank goes up, so does the autofac. Probably a kind of dead-man switch, but you have kill that damn tank first because not only will it coordinate all the 'bots and drones in the area, but it's bristling with its own weapons.”
“It's like one Keith Laumer's Artificially Intelligent Bolo tanks or Steve Jackson's Games Ogre's.” I'd some time to think about this. “Think of a low tank-like chassis that has a high conning tower like structure, topped by a dome that houses the primary communications array. Because the tower prevents a single turret with a 360 degree traverse, it has two of them covering 270, one each in the fore and aft.
“Because I took out the tower with its commo gear the first time I ran into one of the things, the latest version has backup com equipment on top of each of the turrets.” I shuddered thinking about how it'd hurt when I'd gotten nailed by both main batteries. The f'ing thing had pinned me down with its escort 'bots while their rail-guns chewed away the ruined concrete wall I'd covered behind. That gave the main guns time to swing around and lock on my ass.
On the other hand, that same power that had vaporized the wall and everything around it, only fueled that energy absorption thing THAT other me had. My fist was incandescent as I'd fought though the fiery agony and punched the cause of my pain. The resulting explosion had tossed me ass over teakettle as a not so small mushroom cloud had rose above the battlefield.
“Craig?” Shelia gently touched my arm. “Are you alright?”
Taking a deep breath, and swallowing to relieve my dry mouth, I nodded. It was almost as if I could still feel that horrible burning even now.
“You said the first time?” She had never been slow. “How many times have you been sent against those things? Only three have been sent here to North America.”
“I know.” Sighing, I knew she wasn't going to be happy, but then again neither was I. “All three,” I answered. “Pittsburgh, and twice in Detroit. About three other attempts per inhabited continent have been accounted for so far. China repelled their third, right before I got back to Eglin.”
“And that cost them their 'Flying Dragon' unit and who knows how many others.” Her eyes narrowed. “They're still trying to count the dead.
“That asshole.” Her voice turned cold as she processed my words. “It wasn't Team Epsilon that took out those things out. It was you. I knew something about those reports didn't sound right, but I thought they were using you as a diversion so they could get close, but it wasn't was it?”
“No.” I admitted. “They grabbed my by my britches and threw me into the deep end. I don't think the General likes me.”
Despite the small car and our almost running off the road, she hugged me again.
“Whoa!” I grasped. “Eyes on road, and hands on steering wheel please!”
“They were trying to kill you!” She cursed a steam of colorful metaphors that only a woman who'd lived as long as her could learn.
“You're trying too!” I held on for dear life as we skidded on the icy access road.
“Don't you believe it!” She merrily denied it. “I have more experience driving in these conditions than you've been alive.”
“That's why I did my end-around.” I explained how I got out from under the General's thumb. “While I'd expected that first suicide mission, I'd proven that I'd gotten past what was keeping me from being able to train.” I held her hand after we stopped. I made certain Sheila knew it was she who was responsible.
“The only reasons why I survived was plain dumb luck and the fact I'm a hell of a lot tougher than any other Prometheus Gifted I've ever heard of.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I'm still essentially untrained, although I'm learning fast.
Walking inside, I had to keep from chuckling at the security checkpoint. Our real enemies were our Visitors upstairs against whom the measure would be ineffective. Our own worst enemies had always been ourselves. Which was one of the reasons why China did not have Prometheus.
Sure we only had that one malfunctioning quantum drive that made it possible, but we had sent it on 'tour' to some of our 'other' allies. The thing was running as much as we dared, given the Aliens would open up on us from orbit at the merest hint that it was operating. That first time it'd really been cranked up for use on that first bunch of volunteers. It'd only been luck and me, with a few others, who'd dragged the damn thing out of the blast zone. That was how I meet Doc Schneider, but the point is, while we agreed trying to figure out what just went right with that one machine, we still had the only one and it was ours.
Losing their cities of Tangshan and Shenzhen hurt China as bad, or worse, than the craters at Detroit and Pittsburgh hurt the US. With their high population density, their loss of life had been much higher. However, they had designed a clone of the Alien Quantum Drive that was smaller than the one in use by the Western World and they wouldn't share either.
Just who acted like the only kid in the neighborhood with a ball first, was a little unclear. On one hand, we only had that one and only critical piece that made Prometheus possible, but they proved they had a somewhat better understanding of the technology. You would think we could work a deal given all of our lives were at stake, but sadly, no.
It's not as if we were the only ones being childish. Russia had shown a disturbing tendency to all kinds of helpful 'after' our Guests had smashed the hell out of a neighbor. Then their Army came thundering in, to help of course.
Yeah, right.
As Shelia shed her parka, I found her looking at me.
“What?” I asked a little embarrassed.
“You're really looking good.” She replied unabashedly. “You've lost a good what, 20 pounds?”
“Something like that.” I smiled. “That's why Prometheus wants to see me. It's like I told you when I started freaking out two weeks ago. For me to change this much is very unusual. However, enough about me? Why am I here?”
“Why, you've been invited to Thanksgiving dinner of course.” Sheila grinned, her blue eyes full of mischief.
“Sheila, are you and Dean sure about this?” I had my doubts this was anywhere close to being a good idea. “This sounds more like the State Department's bailiwick or perhaps even the UN.”
“And they've been doing such a good job at it haven't they?” She replied as we drove though the snow covered countryside in the early morning. “Besides, they didn't ask to speak with the State or any other 'department.' It was us.
“Or I should say the Quantum Warrior and her intrepid companions.” She grinned as she maneuvered the big Caddy into the icy drive.
Florida was a little light on snowplows, but made up the lack with improvised vehicles, as well as many as could be salvaged from the war zones. Everyone had learned to adapt and make do, but really unless you were near one of the battlefields, life went on pretty much as usual.
Kids went to school while their parents worked. Of course some things had changed. With the internet being compromised, newspapers had made a comeback, so perhaps it was more like the 70's or 80's since cell phones too had fallen out of use.
With the military switching to fusion power, the civilians had easy access to gas and fuel oil, although transportation in some areas was problematic due to the interstate system being cut by those battlefields.
I've already talked about Soylent Blue, but most people had begun backyard greenhouses and relearning things that their grandparents took for granted. Canning, hunting for survival not sport, and other activities had taken the place of much of not only America's pastimes, but the world's.
That's what made what we had in the trunk a king's ransom.
“So this is Dean's place?” I asked, slipping on my mittens. Thank Gawd it was close enough to drive to and yet far enough away from the base, I could cheat and get away with not being in full uniform. I still had on the 'pants and shirt' because there was a real chance this could turn sour. As much as THAT form made me uncomfortable, running around naked was even more of a bad thing if I had to change. At least I got to wear normal clothes over the top of my Skins, even if my Batman belt was a dead give away.
“His parents left it to him.” Sheila replied, as she bundled up too. “He had someone house sitting for him, but arranged for them to visit their own relatives so we could have the place for our dinner. It's perfect.”
For once the sky was relatively clear, and it was only a little below freezing. A veritable heat wave compared to the most recent weather. Even as fair complexioned as I the rising sun felt so good after so many weeks of constant gloomy overcasts.
“I'll check the place out.” Walking round the house, I looked for signs of obvious break-ins and to get an idea of the lay of the land. With the situation in the cities, places like this were vulnerable to squatters and vandals, even if left for a short time. Everything appeared to be well, and I appreciated what Sheila had said about this place being perfect. Being out in the country as part of an old farm, it's cropland was normally leased out. The unused barn would be an ideal 'parking garage' for our dinner Guest's vehicle. Taking a look inside, enough room had cleared out for their buggy, and I noticed some hay that the locals probably wouldn't mind having, as farmers did their best to keep at least some of their livestock alive.
Using the key, I went in though the backdoor, doing a walk-though of the house. Leaving out the front door, I waved to Sheila, giving the all clear.
Then came lugging the food into the kitchen. I honestly had no idea of how they had come by this bounty. Just thinking about how all of this would taste after it was cooked had me salivating.
It was fortunate for us that Dean's place had a large, moderately up to date kitchen, and Sheila was no stranger to preparing large holiday feasts. I suppose it was good too that I could play escort for our chef and wasn't a stranger to cooking either. After spending most of my life as a lonely bachelor, I knew how to do more than just feed myself. I could chop and peel with the best of them.
We were here first, getting a start on the cooking, but the others were due later. Particularly our Guests of honor. Turkey Day or not, there were reports to be filed and briefings to prepare.
Some of the more traditional Holiday activities like big parades and ball games that often had huge numbers of people attending, had stopped. It was judged too dangerous for so many to be gathered in such a small place. With our Visitors being so unpredictable I could see the point.
On the other hand, the lack had generally been made up by smaller local events that, in my opinion, were much better lacking the commercialization that had overtaken the Holiday. But hey, that was me. I rather expect very few football fans agreed with me.
I did have to sigh as the smells of cooking began to seep throughout the house. It really bought back childhood memories. I'd grown up in a place much like this one. However like so many others, I'd left the country life for opportunities elsewhere.
“You guys!” She stopped his cohorts as Dean walked in the door. “Get started on the decorations.”
“There's a bale or two of hay that's not too badly moldy in that barn of yours.” I helpfully added. “Maybe after dragging it out for décor, the locals might appreciate it.”
“Indeed!” Dean without his Mentat eyebrows still managed to put on the same expression. “I had no idea that there was anything useable out there. I'm not much of a farmer I'll willingly admit.”
Handling a ladle like a field marshal’s baton, Sheila chased them outside.
“More decorating” She ordered. “Less talking!”
I couldn't help laughing at all of five foot six of her having all those much larger guys on the run.
“You!” She turned to me, waving her 'baton.' “More peeling, less mirth!”
“As you wish, my Lady.” I graciously rejoined with a bow.
“Make it so!” She imperiously crossed her arms, striking a pose.
We finally broke into laughter. That was one of the things I loved about her. We shared a love of old films and the culture of a bygone time.
“You!” She gave me a peck on the cheek. “We still have a lot to do if we're to serve on time, chop, chop!”
Like an assembly line, Sheila had everything planned. What needed to be cooked first and what needed to go where. It went pretty well and the time passed quickly with the two of us staying busy.
We did get some help in the form of Dean and his friend Stewart's 'dates. Two of the newcomers, Stewart and his date Tisha, were somewhat familiar to me since they were members of the Away Team.
Dean's 'date,' however, was our one claim to legitimacy in this, this … I didn't know what to call it. I did know that we were stretching certain conventions to the breaking point. Nothing we were doing was illegal, from a certain point of view.
Tamara Lee was from the State Department, technically here as an observer. From our brief introduction, I got the feeling that she thought we'd cooked up this whole 'event', a scam, to chow down on the food that had at least been partially provided by her bosses.
So sorta kinda, our back channel arrangements had official sanctions.
“So you two are the ones the Tweeties want to meet?” Ms. Lee's voice had that well educated and schooled delivery of a professional speaker or diplomat.
“So I'm told.” I replied, as Sheila and I exchanged a smile.
Neither one of us were impressed with this woman. While we had not attended any kind of higher education besides high school, we'd spent our lives as very active and avid readers. Sure she'd spent some time reading romances, and I'd gone though my share of men's adventure and western novels, but we hadn't stopped there.
Our debates on Hugo's original Hunchback of Norte Dame and the Disney-fied version, as well as many other works, proved both of our interests were wide ranging. Adding in years, or in Shelia's case decades, of real life experience, our actual 'education' level very much exceeded our documentation.
That was also why we were enlisted and often times thought of by our much younger officers as completely incompetent idiots. That had always been true to an extent of all non-commissioned officers, NCOs, but now it was only more so.
With Project Re-Birth returning many senior citizens to their youth and full health, the military's hierarchy became even more top heavy with more chiefs than Indians. That had a great number taking an unwanted demotion from the rank they'd been discharged as. Of course those who'd left relatively recently escaped that, as well as those like Sheila who were in a technical specialty where rank wasn't a necessarily a position.
Simply, you had a lot of formerly old 'soldiers' whom, because their military experience was dated, were commanded by those who had more recent training, but were green. That changed quickly as units came under fire. Having already seen the 'elephant' the Re-birthed tended to have higher survival rates. Those younger soldiers who did make it were also the ones who listened to their older comrades.
Due to the brutal nature of this War and of how badly we were outgunned, you either took every single advantage offered to you and learned fast, or you died. Worse, you took a lot of other people depending on you dead along with you.
A younger woman who had her position only because of her educational background and possible family connections, did not go far with us.
“A number of different approaches have been tried.” Tamara Lee lectured. “Never once have they ever agreed to a face to face meeting nor even vaguely meaningful dialogue.”
“You're assuming they have any interests in what you have to say.” Sheila shoved a stack of plates into the younger woman's hands. “I very much doubt there's a diplomat or anyone close to that job description aboard that ship up there. They came here to collect what they had paid for.”
“Think about it.” I told the diplomat. “This whole thing began because of curiosity. Dean caught Tash's attention by talking about Halloween. You should've seen his face when Tash really did show up at that party!”
“This is just more of that curiousness.” Sheila agreed. “Not only is this about another of our holidays, but Craig too.”
“Whatever it was, I didn't do it!” I held up my hands, smiling. “I'm innocent.”
“You were the one who coined the term.” Sheila giggled. “Oh mighty Quantum Warrior!”
“It was better than being called 'cursed!'” I defended myself. “From what I could gather from what the Away Team has put together, early in their space faring their engines were more prone to the 'malfunction' that makes Prometheus possible. Their transformations were more like out of a horror movie, like those Alien movies.
“So the Pantheon Teams are like something out of their nightmares?” The State Department woman asked, as she set the table.
“As far as we can figure, yes.” I answered. “I guess having your 'monsters' being your enemy's heroes isn't something even they see every day.”
“Don't forget about that Quantum Pattern thing.” Sheila reminded me.
“I don't get all of that, but apparently although there are in theory an infinite number of universes with different versions of us all.” I tried to explain what little I knew. “Each and everyone one of us has one truly unique pattern no matter how alike our other selves in other dimensions and universes might be.
“Our Visitors suggested that the Prometheus Process somehow overwrites that pattern with that from another universe and/or dimension.” I did the best I could without going beyond my limited knowledge. “It also appears that something is different with our version of Prometheus besides our Guests' experiences.
“While a couple of volunteers were transformed into truly inhuman forms, they weren't crazed or went on killing rampages like I've got the feeling happened with our Visitors.” I shrugged. “Perhaps we're accessing a different universe from theirs or something there really terrible happened to their whole race.”
“It all comes back down to we don't know enough about them to make any kind of educated guess.” I gave a weary sigh. So many people had died already and it was dead certain more were going to follow them. Soylent Blue was going to push off our extinction, but we were still very much on the endangered list.
“I will say that just maybe everyone has been barking up the tree regarding the Alien's cultural attitude.” I lugged an armload of dirty pots and pans to the sink. “They might be more warlike than we think.”
“How do you figure that?” Tisha asked, perhaps a little too defensively.
Well, it was the Away Team's job to work that kind of stuff out. Not that I blame them. We were all in the dark about everything concerning our Visitors.
“Well,” I took a moment to reflect if anything I was thinking about saying was classified. “We know all too well how good they are with computers.”
Everyone nodded. If you didn't want your machine compromised, it sure as hell better be totally isolated with no way at all to remotely access it. We had gotten slammed hard in the first battles as they used our love of technology against us. Everything from pinpointing our troops locations from their cell phones, to taking over our airborne drones and using them against us. That was why we embarked on such an enthusiastic argumentation program to make our soldiers extremely formidable, even if they were dressed only in their underpants.
“So why are their 'bots and drones so bad in their autonomous mode?” I asked. “I've seen video games that had better AI responses. Yeah, sure its tough programming a machine to interact with a real world environment, but they have beaten that problem.
“And its not because they're klutzes in combat. In direct control mode, with them being remotely piloted from orbit, those damn things are killing machines, no pun intended.” I finished, sinking my burden in the hot soapy water.
“Could be just another unexplainable under-utilization of their technology.” Sheila pointed out while testing a pie to see if it was done. “We've certainly seen enough of that.”
“True,” Smiling, I began scrubbing. “It might also be another of those cultural things from technology landmines, like with Prometheus. They might have had problems with rogue AI's that makes them hesitant to really enable their robots' full potential.”
“You're wrong.” Dean said, coming inside smelling like hay. “They have those tanks which not only are very smart, but can command whole units of robots.”
“Tanks that have self-destruction protocols.” I replied, holding up a clean brush for emphasis. “They're deliberate 'point of failure' systems. It would still be easier to just build in that kind of combat capability into all their bot's, but like I said for some reason they haven't.
“Whether they fear autonomous war 'bots or just like to do the driving themselves.” I summarized. “It does appear that they do prefer to have tight control over their machines for whatever reason. I was just pointing out that one of those possible reasons might be that, despite their doing their fighting from orbit, they might be a lot more warlike than it seems.
“They are here invading after all.” I added with a smile.
“I disagree.” Dean stated. “You're jumping to conclusions. We have no evidence that the Tweeties are directly controlling these robots. I think it more likely all of them are computer controlled. A possible reason why could be, the computer on their ship is simply more capable. It only follows they would send down local command units and I expect to see a more autonomous trend in all their designs since this strategy isn't being very successful.
“What is your prediction?” He challenged, raising that brow of his again.
“Seeing how often we've been wrong about what they're going to do next, this is only a guess.” Never once did my smile falter. There were some information I'd gained the hard way that I wasn't going to share.
“I think they'll come up with a way to fox our jamming.” I replied, raising my brows to emphasized how much it was just that, a guess. “Perhaps it'll be a tech workaround or maybe something more active like a tactic targeting our jammers, but I think they will go far out of their way to avoid just what you're suggesting, making all of their 'bots and drones smarter.
“Of course they just might do either of what we just said for completely different reasons.” I shrugged, letting my Southern accent do the talking. “They're Aliens and damn ain't they intent on proving it again and again.”
“Ain't that the truth!” Sheila mimicked my accent, laughing.
“You're not thinking about improvising from our agreed upon plans are you?” Dean half-glared suspiciously at me.
“Nope!” I grinned. “I think it's the perfect approach. Just getting them to a point where we're just talking at all is a step forward. Treating this like a social meeting, even as desperate as we are to have that 'meaningful dialogue,' is our best bet to get anything useful out of this. Besides, it's a little too late for that anyways, but we have to start somewhere.”
“What do you mean its too late?” Tamara crossed her arms. “How else are we to end this conflict?”
“There isn't a country in the world right now that wouldn't lynch any or all of them without a second thought.” I sighed. “Everyone has lost someone dear to them in someway either directly or indirectly. Assuming that we survive this at all, 'peace' is no more a possibility than it was with Nazi Germany or the Empire of Japan.
“And I'm not going to mention how similar this 'expedition' is to situations out of our own history.” My grin turned very grim. “Think about Cortez and how, with just a few hundred men, he caused the collapse of the Aztec Empire. Even if we do somehow significantly discourage this group and cause them to leave, there is no guarantee that another bunch won't show up looking for fame and fortune at our expense.”
“There are similarities between your 'Age of Discovery and this current situation.” Tash said, standing at the backdoor. “One more technological culture advancing upon another at a lesser level of achievement.”
“However, the Aztecs were only a culture on the verge of discovering bronze smelting, confronting one that had steel and gunpowder.” Yet another Visitor added, standing next to Tash. “To them the Conquistadors were completely outside their frames of reference. Your third 'Clarke's Law' applies. 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'
“Earth,” Tash picked up from his companion. “On the other hand, was on the edge of discovering many of our technologies, needing only clues from examining our damaged machines to construct your own. Much to our dismay I might add.” He gave an Alien version of a shrug.
“May we enter?” He asked, taking in our surprise, and then making introductions. “This is my comrade, Ralt.
“Of course you can, Tash.” Dean greeted. “You and your companion are welcome here. Just don't let all the warmth out.”
What followed was the usual exchange of introductions and hand shakes. I did see Tash and Ralt's eyes widen as I did his people's open palm over the chest salute. Dean didn't forget those, but chose to do the hand shaking thing first.
And no I didn't miss his narrow eyes at being one upped. It seemed he had a sizable ego thing going. That didn't bother me in the slightest. All I was hoping for was to learn anything I could to help keep me alive the next time our Guests' toys were trying to kill me. That and of course surviving Thanksgiving with Sheila and whoever else I could save if this dinner turned sour.
“You're early.” I stepped to the door, taking off my cooking apron. “We have space in the barn to hide your ship.”
“Your military has increased its observation of this region.” Ralt replied after exchanging glances with Tash. “We had to leave early to ensure we could make it on time, given the cautiousness of our descent.”
It was us Humans' turn to exchange looks. Benson was no fool and he had his backers that also believed in that 'Scorched Earth', 'No Quarter' strategy. Dean had to knock on quite a few doors before he got even this quasi official sanction that Tamara's presence gave our venture. Maybe my colleagues were concerned, but I knew different. If the dear General had the chance he would shoot down our Guest's Saucer and dance on the wreckage afterward. As far as he was concerned a White or Truce Flag was good only for luring the unwary into his sights.
“Well” I said, picking up my parka. “We better get it under decent cover. Your stealth systems are good, but your ship can still be spotted.”
“Not ship.” Ralt corrected. “By your standards you would say a boat. It's not able to voyage between stars, just travel within a planetary system. A ship can carry a boat, but a boat can't carry a ship.”
“Please allow us our delusions of grandeur regarding our modest space exploration accomplishments.” I smiled trying to not think too much about Voyager One, the space probe that had bought this whole alien invasion thing down upon us.
“Actually it was that lack that convinced us this planet was worth the expense.” The Visitor countered. Unlike Tash who had bright yellow furry feathers, his was iridescent blue. “Most cultures who have managed to send probes or vessels beyond their solar system, usually have come much further. Nuclear pulse driven vessels are well within your capabilities, but for some reason your people declined to develop them. That deficiency convinced our backers that perhaps humans were … slow.”
“Yeah.” I grimaced. “And we accuse you guys of not fully developing your technology. Like with your problems with quantum engines we had some bad experiences. Early in our atomic age we dropped two nukes on a beaten, but deeply entrenched enemy. At the time it seemed a good idea, but we really didn't appreciate just how terrible nuclear weapons truly were. As we learned, it left scars.
“Many still have a knee jerk reaction that anything relating to nuclear power is automatically bad, disregarding any and all the peaceful uses.” Sighing, as we walked to the barn, I asked. “So was it that probe's exiting of our solar system that made us a target?”
“The short answer is yes.” Our Visitor answered. “There are protections for those less advanced, but it is thought that being able to build devices that can leave your home system passes a kind of test.”
“In truth Humans are not alone in the misuse of nuclear energy and other technologies.” He admitted, leading me to where they parked their 'boat'. “The pursuit of technology can ruin a world. The very reason we are here is because our own home is in such bad condition from not only the kind of problems you're familiar with, but others you have yet to discover.
“We rejoiced when we entered this system and found not one spacecraft that could contest us.” He stood at his boat's entry way. “It was not pleasant to find our celebration was premature. You were far further along in any number of areas than many those with more developed space flight.
“As Tash said.” He repeated. “You were nearly at the early point of our own technological achievements. Imagine if those Spanish Conquistadors had instead met pragmatic Roman Legionaries. It wouldn't have taken much for the Romans to replicate at least crude versions of the invaders weapons.”
“No,” I agreed. “It wouldn't have and the Spaniards would've gotten a big surprise when they tried to play everyone against themselves like Cortez did the Aztecs.
“Come on.” I moved things along. “Let's get this thing into our makeshift hanger. Then we can talk some more.”
Nodding, he went into his 'boat' as I watched. Conveniently he'd parked almost right next to the barn. It took a bit of work, but I got the wide barn doors open, despite the blocking snow and ice. Ralt had the hard job maneuvering the otherworldly craft though the opening meant for tractors and livestock. He had to turn, bank and twist it a bit, but he did get it inside. It was a testimony to how agile the Alien machines were with their quantum drives.
After being shot far too many time by their aerial drones I was all too aware of how nimble they were. Not that I was paranoid, but I did have my thumb on my Q-box button. Halcyon had proved very hard to kill, but as Craig, I was vulnerable. Not that Tash or Ralt had proven themselves untrustworthy, but more that I'd been exposed to far too much of Benson's 'at any cost' philosophy.
Still it was a relief to remove my hand that was casually near my Q-box as the saucer's hatch sealed seamlessly behind Ralt as he left it. I honestly had no idea of the weapons load out of one of these 'boats'. The one Visitor we had for sure killed, instead had been traveling in something like an oversized version of their aerial drones.
For all that I knew this thing could be an unarmed sports model, but I really doubted it. Trust only went so far, and that applied to all of us, Human and Alien. He probably scanned the barn really good to make sure he could blow his way out if he had to. An old wooden structure, a 'whiff' of plasma burner and it would go up like a match, which wouldn't bother the 'boat' at all.
“So,” I restarted our conversation. “How do you guys know so much about Earth history?”
“How else?” His beak like mouth gave what I thought might be a smile. “The internet. One of the first things we did after entering orbit was to copy it. However, having all that information didn't do us a lot of good not knowing what questions to ask or to even understand the answers, given your cultural context.”
In their opening salvo in this invasion, they'd caused wholesale chaos as they took down computer networks the whole world over, crashing the internet. The irony of our Visitors having the only complete copy of our archives was bitter. Sure we had carefully guarded pieces and parts, but much irreplaceable information would forever be lost to us.
Well, unless we could somehow get our hands on that copy. Hell, we don't even have a way of storing something like that. What I'm I saying? Better to fight off extinction and then we can worry about other stuff.
Touching a strength I didn't know I had, a smile came from somewhere. There could be no peace between Ralt's people and mine. Humanity had suffered way too much at our Visitor's hands. If we lived at all, just maybe there would not be war between us, but never ever peace.
I saw the truth of an old saying. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“That is so true.” I replied. “Knowing facts doesn't let you understand history or even the events leading up to it. They're only a tool helping you see how it all unfolded. That is of course balanced by the axiom that the 'Winners write the history books.'”
“There is always that.” The Alien agreed. “Although your people are much more creative in that regard. Our enemies usually aren't around so it's a useless exercise.”
“Ah!” I exclaimed, as we closed the barn doors. “That's the whole point of the saying. The losers aren't there to protest so you can twist the facts around to put yourself in the best possible light. It also takes into account that there are always at least two viewpoints to any conflict, but only one is being presented.
He gave me a very human-like nod to continue.
“Take the Aztecs we were talking about for an example.” I grinned as we walked back to the farmhouse. “Later historians and revisionists give Cortez all kinds of hell for destroying a large, advanced Native American culture. Without a doubt the Conquistadors were greedy bastards, more interested in filling their pockets than in converting the heathens or bringing enlightenment.
“However,” I racked my memory for as much as I could recall. “The Aztecs were also very fond of human sacrifice as were other cultures in Mesoamerica. Culturally accepted or not, the Aztecs used the practice to control their empire. Noble savages they weren't, even by their own standards.
“On the other hand, we have almost nothing from their point of view.” My grin turned into a sideways smile. “Their capital Tenochtitlan was razed and Mexico City was built on its grave. All we have is the Conquistadors and the Monks, who accompanied them, writings and reports. None of which can be regarded as non-interested parties.”
“Your account has only highlighted the fallacy of such slanted recordings.” Ralt shook his head. “Others can come back long after and dispute the actions of those involved. Additionally, those in Mesoamerica weren't the only one of your cultures to practice human sacrifice. Your ancient Egyptians often killed their servants so that their dead would have those to serve them and even your Romans were documented doing so.”
“Yes.” I agreed with him. “They did, but not to the excess of the Aztecs. From what I understand, even by Mesoamerican standards they were rather overenthusiastic about sending their enemies to their gods.
“And you are right about the revisionism thing, but Humans do tend to be rather short-sighted at times.” I shrugged. “Enough about us, how about you? What do you call yourselves anyway?”
“The Tai-sha'le.” Ralt replied, “But it has a rather unfortunate meaning in one of your major languages. And no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. That's why we go by Sha'le in what communications we have with you Humans.
“As for 'us' I assume you're asking if we had similar situations arise on our world.” The Sha'leian replied. “The answer is yes and no. Yes, our history is at least as turbulent as your own, but our geography was kinder. We didn't have two whole habitable continents that were completely isolated from the rest. Some areas were isolated, but we certainly didn't have any of our steel producing nations confronting a stone age one.
“So your people are familiar with arms races?” I asked thinking about how that pushed so much of our own development.
“You have such colorful ways of stating things.” The Alien gave another of those I thought were smiles. “But yes, we became very competitive in seeking advantages over our opponents.”
“I'm guessing in the political arena as well?” I held the door open as we went inside. “The shifting alliances and agreements must've been interesting.”
“That 'arena,' as you call it, was just as competitive.” Ralt confirmed.
Trying to remember everything that was just said, I shut the door behind us. This was all good stuff. It kinda sounded as it their whole world was like Europe. The geography contributed to the restless warfare of the region. Too many groups that were too evenly matched, each pushing and shoving against each other. Adding that to the bit about their own world having severe problems suggested that when the big wars did break out, they were very nasty.
“No,” The Alien said. “We can eat your food in complete safety. One of the purposes of our probes was to bring back samples to confirm this bio-system was a compatible as advertized. Perhaps to both of our people's detriment, this world matches our own so perfectly it is not worthy giving it a percentage.”
“I think we have strayed into uncomfortable tropics again.” Dean stated after a long stressful moment. “Maybe its time to begin the festivities?”
“We're just about finished anyways.” Sheila announced. “But the appetizers were prepared just for this occasion.”
Everyone took a deep breath, and just enjoyed the home cooked food. All of us being in the military now, hadn't had such a feast in a long time. Me, being on the front and abused by my commanders, this was pure heaven. No one mentioned Blue Soylent since that was information critical to our very survival. Oh the other hand, all I had to do was say something about the poor quality of military combat rations and they all got the point. Even the Sha'leians nodded at the reference understanding at once how such might keep you alive, but it sure wasn't good tasting.
As surrealistic as it might be, we human and Shaleians made small talk and compared holidays. Soon enough, Sheila and the other ladies were carrying the serving dishes to the table.
Dean as host, kept the traditional Thanksgiving prayer or since he was an atheist, speech, short.
“We are thankful for the good food and that our friends and guests are able to meet here in peace.” He announced before carving the turkey.
Nobody said nothing as I bowed my head and added a silent, but heartfelt Amen. Honestly the biggest challenge for me was to keep from ignoring everyone and just eat. Sheila, however, was there to make sure I acted half-way civilized.
Sitting there enjoying food that had real texture, for all of their talk of the bio-sphere being nearly identical to their own, both Sha'leians used their scanners to make sure of the food. Considering my experiences with the dear General Benson, perhaps I should've 'scanned' my own rations. After all he'd tried just about every other way of killing me. Okay, a slight exaggeration, but not by much.
I actually had a good time tying to guess what Tash and Ralt would go for and what foods they didn't like. The turkey and dressing were a yes, but the pecan pie was a bust. They didn't like the caramel. The apple pie however was another winner.
However, there were limits to how much even this bunch could eat. Honestly, I was amazed that we got though dinner without any kind of major incident other than another of Dean's 'uncomfortable topics.'
Our Guests had no problem discussing Galactic Society. From their viewpoint it was mostly like strangers passing in the night. There was such a wide variety of races whose needs and interests were so different from each other that each pretty much just ignored the others. There was a set of rules regarding those times when contact was unavoidable, but the whole Star Trek thing of alien alliances and empires just wasn't there.
Where the problem came up was when we were talking about those races that served as middle men linking some of the more similar species together enough for trade. For an example, the damn them to hell SOB's that sold Voyager One to our very unwanted Sha'leian Visitors.
I can understand Dean's interest in those Bastards, given we didn't know who else they might've sold that information to. Unfortunately, that conversation drifted towards ships and just how many of Tash and Ralt's relatives were up there in that ship of theirs.
This time it was Tash who announced the 'uncomfortable topic' warning, but that didn't help dispel the tension that had arisen. Everyone, Earthling and Sha'leian alike, took a break going back for more pie or a run to the bathroom.
Me, I needed some fresh air.
The sun had been shrouded again by the heavy clouds that promised more wintery stuff was on the way. The ride back into Tampa would not be pleasant, but it was only the first part of my journey. From there it was a flight to Camp Mackall for my testing and evaluation.
The door opened behind me as I took in a deep breath of the chill November air.
“May we talk?” Ralt asked.
“Yes.” I answered simply, gesturing him out onto the wide farmhouse porch.
We were out in the country way off the access road which meant I was reasonably certain it was safe and nobody would see us. Besides I was curious as well. I'd been asked for specifically as a condition for their attendance. Perhaps I was about to find out.
“You're not like them.” He gestured to those inside the house. “They're not soldiers, you are.”
“Including Tash?” I asked.
“Yes.” Ralt made a very deliberately human-like nod. “My friend is not a solider.”
“Like you?” The question was obvious. When we parked their ship in the barn, he was the one who flew inside and did some pretty tight maneuvering to get it to fit. Of the two, the Visitor standing next to me was more likely a combatant.
Or in other words someone who had and would be trying to kill me.
“I'm a soldier.” He said, with what I thought was pride. “Our own word for it means something a little different, but the role, the duties, are the same.”
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.” I quoted from the Bard's 'Henry the Fifth' Saint Crispin's Day Speech. “Those who stand and fight to protect their homes and families.”
“Again the meaning is somewhat different.” Ralt explained. “Our society is more cooperative than yours, although we are far from the hive like aliens from your science fiction stories. We are naturally more communistic oriented than you. While you Americans value individualism, the forces on us stressed working together much more strongly. Most other Earthling cultures put less importance on the individual than you, they still fall short of the Sha'leian ideal. That does include your countries that think of themselves as Communist. Individuals still rule at the top.”
“I can see that.” The way their 'bots and drones weapons systems covered each other made a bit more sense. It also explained how when a critical piece was removed the whole thing tended to fall apart. There was less flexibility and perhaps initiative, but it was strong as well.
The French had learned that the hard way during their assault on the Sha'leian beachhead in the Alps.
“What I'm so curious about is how can you enter battle so alone even when you appear so powerful our weapons can't stop you?” Ralt asked.
“Well,” I smiled. “I'm certainly not going to tell you how to stop me! However, I'm not going to end this 'Uncomfortable Topic.' I can step onto that battlefield because I am not alone. My comrades stand waiting for me to my part so they can do theirs. Even if I fall, I've given them their chance at victory.”
“The Needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” The Sha'leian solider quoted. “But that does not explain how you overcome the instinct to survive or do you want to die? Tash claims your quantum warped form is not insane.”
“The Wrath of Kahn” I smiled. “And no I don't want to die. Perhaps at one time I did, but that has changed. As for being insane, many believe that just volunteering to let some mad scientist irradiate you with a malfunctioning alien engine that they really don't understand how it works is an act of lunacy!”
“On that we can agree!” Ralt shivered at very idea.
“But if you asking how I don't let my fears overcome me, it's faith.” I took a deep breath. “In that first battle I knew that your plasma burners, while they were very painful, wouldn't injure me. There was a chance I could make it out alive and return to the one I loved. I had to believe it in my heart or I would've been defeated before I'd even made my first step.”
“So you lied to yourself?” Our Guest asked, looking at me.
“I suppose you could call it that.” I smiled, thinking about the many definitions of faith that I'd read about. “It's more believing in something bigger than yourself. Even my quantum warrior form gave me assurance that somehow I could survive.”
“How so?” He inquired, inclining his head as if he'd never considered that before.
“I'm past fifty years old.” Stating point by point helped me put some things into words. “As a guess, in that alternate world where that quantum pattern originates, whatever transformed the 'me' there into what we call Halcyon, happened in their 20's or 30's judging from her appearance. We could be all kinds of wrong, but if so that means that 'me' has spent a quarter century or more in a world vastly more chaotic than this one. She has survived.”
I sighed. It'd taken a lot to get me to this point, but like it or not, that 'me' was a she now and had been for quite awhile. Like Shelia had told me on Halloween, that 'me' had somehow adapted to being Halcyon. There was no other way for her to have survived, not just her world, but being trapped in a body that wasn't hers.
“May I see her?” Ralt asked. “Your quantum 'warrior' form?”
I paused thinking. There wasn't much reason to think this was some kind of trap. Any data on Prometheus would be old news to them, and even with the jamming during my battles with the Sha'leian command tanks, they had plenty of information about me.
“Sure.” I answered. “But first let me warn everyone so nobody is unduly alarmed.”
“Sheila?” I called to her opening the door. “Ralt would like to see my quantum warrior form. Would you mind giving me some moral support?”
Each and everyone in the room turned to look at me. Perhaps the Sha'leians had something right about the fear of monsters right after all, but for all that humanity might be frightened of us, we were on their side.
“Sure!” She grinned, holding her coffee mug between her finger as if for warmth. “Let me get my jacket.”
Okay, not everyone thought of us that way. I stripped off my cold weather gear leaving nothing, but my uniform Skins. It was far too hard to replace clothing these days to ripped them when I changed.
Strangely, no one else invited themselves out to see me change. Not even Tash asked himself along, but they were peeking out the windows.
Shrugging, I smiled, knowing I had the only person I needed. Sheila looked up at me, her mug steaming in the cold. There was something I wanted to try and having her with me gave me confidence I could succeed.
Knowing, I was being watched by the Enemy even if we were under a truce of sorts, I was going to attempt a trick. Older Children of Prometheus, after they'd changed enough times, could do the Captain Marvel 'Shazam' transformation thing without using the Q-Box.
It had certainly gotten easier the more times I'd 'Shazam-ed' with the Q-box 'button.' At first it'd been hard as hell even with it. The whole Halcyon thing freaked me out so badly that transforming caused me anxiety so bad, it'd made me involuntarily switch back. It was only Sheila that had helped me past that problem.
I was trying to remember how it felt when I pressed that button. Like trying to recall how being shocked or struck, I was trying to pretend, to feel, as if it was happening right now.
While I was doing it, my efforts weren't enough. At least it wasn't until I looked into Sheila's eyes. She believed in me absolutely. That was enough. Like a spark bridging a gap, it was the leap I needed.
The light enveloped me.
Looking down at Sheila, she was lot further down, now that I'd grown nearly a foot and a half. Her eyes were as bright as the stars at night.
However, Ralt wasn't so happy. He'd gone as still as if a very hungry grizzly had just appeared.
“It's alright.” I told him. “I'm in control and am not a mindless monster.”
I glanced at the cleavage that I couldn't help but see, since I was so much taller this way and had to look down. That's if you're not talking about this pair of 'mountains' attached to me, but I didn't say that. While I had stopped having panic attacks, just staring at my own personal Scylla and Charybdis, I was not happy about them.
“You should see your face!” Doubled over laughing, Sheila had put the mug on the wide railing so she wouldn't spill her coffee.
”Really, relax.” Ignoring her, I turned my attention back to Ralt. My advice was something that was easier said than done, but just maybe Thanksgiving Dinner would open the path to something meaningful. There was a chance that us poor smucks on the front lines could come to an understanding that would make a difference in this unholy mess of a War. It could happen just like the World War One Christmas Truce where a bunch of unofficial peace-fires broke out. It didn't make a big difference in the big picture as the Generals on both sides crushed that brief shining moment of hope as soon as they could. It simply would not do to see the face staring at you from the other side of No-man's Land as anything else except as an enemy to kill.
“Her humor isn't directed at me, but at you?” Ralt asked, appearing very confused.
“I don't know how much you understand about human sexuality, but are you familiar with the term pornographic?” Shelia grinned as my golden complexion blushed coppery.
A quick exchange in Sha'leian passed between him and Tash who was peeking out around the curtains. I think Dean might've been consulted as well, but his voice was more muffled for all of my Halcyon form's superior hearing.
“Entertainment material created for sexual gratification?” He asked for clarification, but was still confounded.
“Our so scary Pantheon quantum warrior, when he transforms, changes gender and has exaggerated feminine sexual characteristics that are just this side of being indecent.” She giggled, but her arm around my waist told me this was in fun.
Glancing at the faces peering at me from the windows, okay, maybe it wasn't fear they were feeling. Hell, I would rather it be fear than what I had a pretty good idea of what it really was.
The Sha'leian stared at Halcyon, me. Then he began this trilling harmonic that didn't take much imagination to think of it as laughter. The echo from inside suggested that Tash had lost it as well, laughing at the big bad Child of Prometheus.
Feeling more than a little peeved at this, I folded my arms across my chest which of course meant maneuvering around my 'mountains' which set Sheila to giggling again. I kept myself from sighing, knowing that would cause those protuberances to be even more annoying as they jiggled and bounced. Hell, not so long ago just a small part of this would've had me going to pieces.
Ralt managed to get his twittering laugh under control, but the sounds from inside said that Tash hadn't come close to stopping his own mirth.
“How is this possible?” He shook his head in disbelief or denial. “We see nothing but the most horrible monsters and yet those of your race become this? However, you are also so powerful you smash our assaults aside like they were made by mere fledglings.”
Looking at the curious faces in the window and at poor Shelia starting to shiver in the cold, I sighed. My quest for solitude was over so we might as well make everything easy and go inside.
“Why don't we move this back where it's warm?” I gestured to the door while answering. “Well for one, nobody knows if the universe where your monsters come from is the same as the one we tap for Prometheus.” I reasoned it out. “We do have some guesses, but that's all they are.
“Being like this.” I waved my hand at Halcyon's body. “It and others of Pantheon are very much like characters from a genre of our fiction. The changes and the powers could've come right out of the media we call comic-books.”
“It is the same universe.” Tash replied, as we came in. “The way the quantum drive malfunctions. It has to connect to the highest energy state source.”
I nodded, making a mental note to remember that tidbit. Doc Schneider would be very interested in this stuff.
“Tell me how, in this other world that your people are like … this and not the monsters my people are?” His laughter gone, Ralt was, the only word that came to mind, haunted. Nobody wanted to think of themselves as bad or evil much less their whole race.
No one else said anything so I guessed it was up to me.
“Well,” I began. “Let me tell you about the universe we think Halcyon comes from. It all started when a pair of good Jewish boys, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster created the forefront of what would be known as the Golden Age of comics. Let me tell you about a character called Superman.”
In a truly infinite universe, all things are possible. However, some things are more likely than others. The many worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics took it a step further. Every possibility and choice we make branches out into a new world, limitless and beyond count.
Grey Wolf stepped though the sundered museum doors. No alarms had gone off and neither had any of the guards given a warning. None of that was a good thing. The problem was, the Hawkmoon Museum, while it did house a few rare archeological finds, did not have much in the way of priceless treasures with the possible exception of a few dedicated collectors. Every item had also been vetted by the Mystics Guild just to make sure there was nothing more dangerous on those stone steles and tablets than grocery lists and public notices.
Perhaps one of those collectors did pay a thief to acquire such a item, but usually professionals were much more subtle than tearing doors off their hinges, although the timing was perfect. Late on Thanksgiving night, the police were more worried about Black Friday retailers and shoppers than a rather esoteric museum like the Hawkmoon. However, the matter of the silence of the guards was also troubling, given a thief did not want to give law enforcement an excuse to use deadly force.
No, this suggested something else was afoot which was why he'd called for help from the local Protectors Bureau branch office. Dealing with the government sponsored heroes was always a pain where the sun never shines, but the way his guts were twisting, he had that bad feeling.
However, that did not stop him from cautiously scouting the crime scene. Grey had no intentions on engaging, but he did want to get as many clues as he could about what this was about.
Crouching by the first guard, his fingers found no pulse, dead. From the position of the body the poor man had no chance at all. His weapon lay nearby, unfired. Whatever had struck him, had done so with the force of a truck, killing the man instantly.
Grey's wolf totem's gift of keen senses told him that this was the probable fate of the other guards as well. The scent of death rode heavy in the air. That pushed the threat level way up. While his totem gave him superior strength, speed, and other gifts, what had killed these guards had hit all of them at once, faster than any of them could react. He was good, but not that good.
Almost he stopped right there, but if these murders were that fast then they just might be long gone before the government capes could arrive. With a sigh he decided he just had to get close enough for his 'wolf' to see what was going on. Besides, if he was good at nothing else, it was stalking.
What he found turned his blood to ice. Before him, searching a selection of Babylonian stone tablets, were six figures. Five were tall metallic humanoids with the perfection that only came from deliberate sculptured care. It was the sixth that froze him like a deer caught in the headlights.
Dressed in an old fashioned tweed suit he could've been the stereotypical college professor, but the accompanying animated statues told another story. Every hero knew of the Golem Master. The scholar turned psychotic Nazi hunter had lost his focus since so very few war criminals were still alive. The murderer had expanded his attention to anyone wearing a Nazi swastika. Droves of White Supremacists had died at the hands of the animated magical statues created by the insane intellectual. Not that those had been his only victims. Anyone getting in his way tended to end up dead, including heroes trying to stop the slaughter or even the innocent family members of the supremacists.
Honestly, Grey didn't lose much sleep over the deaths of those hate mongers, but the women, children and others who'd died just by being in the wrong place did. The Golem Master took what he wanted, be it scholarly texts or just the materials to make his unstoppable monsters. Rumor had it that hero and villain alike had died, sacrificed by this madman to bring his creations to life.
Grey was so out of his league it wasn't even worth mentioning. Those golems had defeated whole teams of heroes and, while it might seem so simple to just knock out their master, it was not. The golems protected him at all costs. Even if you did manage to get by them, they would kick your ass before carrying out their last order and then escaping with their master.
In the rare instances where a golem had been destroyed, the Golem Master would only show back up a few months later with a new one after yet another hero or villain had gone missing. It was no coincidence that the creation would exhibit the powers of the missing cape.
However, Grey had noticed the displays were marked. If he could mark just what area they were looking at, that might help narrow down what the Golem Master was looking for. Maybe he couldn't stop the insane scholar's scheme, but perhaps he could aid others who could go toe to toe with those mystical constructions.
Daring to creep forward, using all the cunning his wolf gave him, he got a clearer view. The old man was browsing the stone fragments of the old writings as if at a yard sale, muttering to himself and talking to his silent golems.
“No, it's not this one either, Ebony.” The mad scholar confided, to his golem. “This is only a tally of grains.”
“Why thank you, Kaspit.” He told the animated silver statue. “I think this is the one!”
Grey risked peeking to try see just what the 'one' was that'd been found.
Immediately, chimes like those from a music box rang out from the mad scholars automatons.
“My, it seems we have an unwanted spectator.” The Golem Master looked up at Grey. “Lapis Lazuli take of this. After he's defeated, dispose of the body in the river.”
Wolves might be predators, but they know when to flee. He was running and dodging around the displays to make it harder for the golem to reach him. A crash behind him shook the whole Hawkmoon Museum. That suggested that its master had departed, taking the shortest route though the wall. Now it was only the two of them, Grey and golem.
All he had to do was buy time for the Protectors to get here.
He bounced off of the golden automaton as it appeared from nowhere, cutting off his escape. Twisting in the air to land more or less on his feet, Grey didn't waste a moment trying to attack it. Nothing he could do would so much as slow it down. Alpha list heroes had tried and failed. He very much doubted a 'B' rater like him could better their attempts.
In his element, Grey was very good against trained and armed criminals. Even those who had powers and used them creatively to great effect had reason to be wary of him. However, those who routinely threatened the safety and security of the whole world were a little of out his league. Save the city yes, the world, not so much.
Out of reflex, he flung his 'wolf's claw' shurikens at the golem. The trio of razor sharp throwing stars sank deep into the animated golden statue. The cold emerald gems it had for eyes just looked at him as its body expelled his weapons. With a clatter his wolf 'claws' rang as they hit the floor as the entry points sealed over, leaving not so much as a mark.
Like a pile driver, its hand shot out, slamming into his torso. If he hadn't rolled with the blow, it surely would've broken something. As it was, Grey felt as if he'd been hit by a car, as he tumbled to the floor. At the very least his ribs were bruised.
Struggling to get to his feet, he braced himself for another blow.
“Are you defeated?” It asked, the voice sounding like it came from a music box.
“I'm not dead yet!” He growled, despite knowing this thing was just a construction of the darkest magic.
Its foot kicked out, lifting him completely off the floor, but he was able to twist enough to land on his feet. Grey took off running as fast as his injury would allow. That was good. The bad was his arm had absorbed much of that kick and he feared it was broken.
“Sonofabitch!” He grunted as he collided with it again. The damn thing was a nearly a speedster, the way it kept moving to block him. Worse, running into it was like slamming into a wall, but this time he hit his already injured arm.
Before he could fall, the golem's golden hand grabbed him by the shoulder.
His wolf so wanted to bite and claw at the reason for the pain, but Grey knew he had to escape.
“Are you defeated?” It asked again in that musical voice.
“Go to hell!” Grey gritted teeth.
Lean like his totem spirit, he kicked, not to hurt it which was impossible, but to get leverage to twist free. Failing, he was surprised when the golden automaton threw him one handed though the open doors like he was no more than an unweaned pup.
Clutching his damaged arm protectively, he rolled with the impact after sailing over the stairs of the Hawkmoon's entrance. Bouncing to a stop on the sidewalk, he grunted from the pain.
Looking up, Grey saw the golden form floating though the torn open doors. Rather than descend the stairs, she glided over the top of them to slow to a hover above him.
“Are you defeated?” She asked yet again.
He was beginning to feel he was missing something. Considering he was getting his butt kicked anyways, he didn't have much to lose.
“Yes.” His wolf spirit growled in protest.
As a reply she picked him up, being surprisingly gentle. With a whoosh, she covered the half mile to the river in only seconds.
“Aw hell!” He cursed, as she dropped him into the cold water.
With just one good arm he feared he would sink, being dressed in his padded hero gear, but he actually hit the the muddy river bottom. It'd put him in the swallows, near the bank.
Cold, wet and hurting he made his way to the shore. Wondering where his attacker had gone to, he turned to search, but found it's face right in front of his.
Even in the wan light from the bridge that wasn't that far away, he could see her sculpted golden complexion and it's deep blue hair and lashes looked nearly black. It was the eyes that made him double take. How had he ever thought them cold and expressionless. The emeralds in front of him blazed with life and passion.
“Grey Wolf should drop out of sight.” It, no, her voice sang. “If 'he' suspects you're still alive, he'll send me back with more explicit instructions to do what he intended instead of only what he said.”
“Do you understand?” She asked, “Because if you don't both of us will regret it.”
“I understand.” Grey replied, confused. The golems were supposed to be nothing more than magically created robots. It was the 'why' he didn't get.
She only nodded before zooming off into the night sky.
Staring after her, he muttered to himself. “What the hell, just happened?”
Pulling himself the rest of the way out of the river, he headed to the van he used as a mobile headquarters. Until he had a lot better information, Grey Wolf was going to stay out of sight, playing dead. However, that didn't mean he was dropping this. He'd learned early in his hero career that research and preparation could win battles that courage and brawn couldn't.
Turning and looking one last time in the direction she'd flown, he asked the starry night sky. “Who are you Lapis Lazuli?”
Christmas is a time of giving and a celebration of family. It is also the time that Washington crossed the Delaware, the Battle of Trenton. The Tet Offensive began on New Years Eve. The Ardennes Counteroffensive, better known as Battle of the Bulge kicked off the week before Christmas.
And our unfriendly visitors have been studying human history …!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who at the very last moment spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Zap! Crack!
I cringed away from the crazed man with the taser.
“Doc!” I looked for an escape route off the examination table. “What are you doing with that thing?”
“Relax.” Doc Schneider replied, still holding the hand held taser “This isn't lethal.”
“You're not reassuring me here, Doc!” I crept to the edge of the table.
Calling for help would be a waste of time. Dr. Loren Schneider was the lead researcher here at the Camp Mackall Prometheus Center. While they didn't run the Prometheus Engine here any more, this was where they did all the volunteers' testing and evaluations.
Doc was about my height, but he was skinny as a rail. His salt and pepper hair and mustache had always reminded me of a cross between Larry from the Three Stooges and Albert Einstein. Not that I would ever consider fighting him.
After that first full power run of the Prometheus Engine on us, the freshman group of volunteers, it'd been me who'd dragged the infernal device and him out of harms' way. The Sha'leians didn't at all like the uses we were putting their captured tech to. While they didn't react to our using their quantum engines, using that damaged drive got their attention big time and I don't mean in a good way.
A full fledged company of a hundred 'bots and drones had dropped right on top of us, along with a real live in the flesh alien invader. Most of my fellow volunteers had been slaughtered, along with more than a few of Doc's fellow scientists and techs. We'd never been sure exactly how many of us Prometheus's children had been born or rather reborn during that first run up, since the invaders had killed everyone who couldn't run away fast enough.
Predictably I hadn't melted down until afterward, when I got a chance to notice I'd turned into a seven foot tall walking, pornographic golden statue. The handful of others who had also escaped had included two others who had received the Gift. They'd gone though the testing and evaluation and later became the first graduates of the Pantheon Program's R course, sometimes called 'Robot-demolition 101.'
Meanwhile I had huge problems dealing with what I'd become. Let me tell you, I don't know how women put up with it. Code name Halcyon, due to my other 'me' complexion and hair color which was vaguely the same as that Kingfisher from Greek legends, she had a figure that was as exaggerated as any woman heroine ever drawn in the comic-books.
In short, while transformed, I was a walking wet-dream and lustful stares followed me wherever I went. It was difficult enough for me just to change so radically, but to be lusted after was the straw that broke the camels back, shoulder, arm and every other part I can think of.
All I can say is it's a damn good thing the Prometheus transformation was only temporary. Once a Child of Prometheus, always a Child, but to change into your Gifted form after that first time required some help, the Q-Box.
It's just this cell phone sized box that, along with some internal gizmo's, somehow helps trigger the change. I hadn't the slightest idea of how, but it did work. The Box also held the timer that estimated how much time you could stay transformed and the controls for Pantheon Special Forces trooper's uniform, Skins.
The tough, flexible, smart fabric was a necessity since it could stretch with the change and still provide an impressive amount of protection. Using the controls on the Q-Box, it could mirror the surrounding environment, making it the ultimate in camouflage.
However, the downside was it looked like a damn fetish catsuit that gave new meaning to skin tight. Once upon a time I had looked like the Pillsbury dough boy in my Skins, which caused me no end of embarrassment. Being old and fat was bad enough, but having to wear a uniform that displayed that unpleasantness to everyone, just plain sucked.
That had changed, which was why I was here on this table. Prometheus linked you with another 'you' in an universe that had real live superheroes, or so was the current theory at least. That explanation seemed to fit what facts we had. To change you had to push that Q-Box button, but with time and practice, you could make yourself change without the button.
What it did not do was affect your 'normal' body. However, my bald spot was gone and I'd lost so much weight I looked liked someone else. Perhaps that helped contribute to my looking younger instead of the ten years older the extra pounds had added. That did not account for me being able to keep up with guys in their twenties running one of the hardest obstacle courses in the world.
The good news was my Skins would stop Doc's taser cold, that's if I had them on. Instead I was in a very drafty paper hospital gown feeling just a mite vulnerable.
“I have a theory.” He said, still looking more than a little demented despite his smile. “You're as healthy, no, more healthy than a horse. That's the problem.
“This.” He waved the stun gun, “Will either prove my theory or make me feel very bad as you flop on the table like a fish.”
Lunging, his stun gun crackled again as the electricity arced between the electrodes.
Gritting my teeth for the expected shock, I exhaled in relief as none came.
“Very funny, Doc.” I glared at the scientist. “I really don't appreciate the prank.”
The crackle, zap of the stun gun buzzed again.
“And will you stop with that thing!” The sound was sending shivers up and down my spine.
“Craig.” Doc directed rather softly. “Look at your hands.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I stared at him, still cross at the tasteless joke.
He held up the inactive stun gun with a quirk of his bushy eyebrows.
My mouth dropped open as I saw the electrical arc between my fingers.
“Congratulations, Craig!” He grinned, while bouncing on his toes. “You're a superhero!”
A half hour later I was still sitting on the table.
“How could this happen, Doc?” I asked. “I thought this was impossible.”
“It is.” He replied handing me a lollipop. “However, it's the only available explanation.”
“Those scans and tests we did all came back with errors.” Waving some X-rays in the air, he tossed them on his desk. “It was as if you were coated in lead or...”
“I was absorbing the energy.” Just like Halcyon, went unsaid.
“Precisely!” Doc grinned. “Which makes no sense given what we know, unless there are not two quantum patterns involved, but three!”
“I thought my original pattern was over written by Halcyon's. It's not?” Scratching my once bald spot, this was way over my head.
“Perhaps that's what happened to the Sha'leians.” Doc said the Alien's name with relish. Being a man of science he loved having the proper names and terms for stuff.
“However,” He lectured. “Our process simply forms a link where this.” He held up a Q-Box. “This is the switch that can open or close that circuit. That's why the Prometheus Gifted can change back and forth.
“It is, I think, the superior, method.” He put his hand on my shoulder.
Nodding, I agreed with him. Doc Schneider was the reason was why I hadn't been pushed into a suicide mission at the very beginning. As a matter of fact he bitterly protested the entire concept. At the same time, the government was full of very scared old men who did what they always did to the young in time of war. They sent them off to die.
It was hard to protest too much when whole cities were getting flattened and causalities were in the millions and that was just in the United States. World Wide, it'd hit the billion mark and was rising everyday from the Impact Winter alone, as well as continuing enemy action.
Recently Russia had taken one right on the chin. Dzerzhinsk, Russia had been hit by a nano-bombardment. The city had a history of being a center of chemical manufacture as well as, at least at one time, making chemical weapons. Unlike Japan they hadn't been able to stop the attack which had left hundreds of thousands of people homeless in the middle of the bitterest winter in memory, as well as the huge economic loss.
“So what is happening with me, Doc?” I asked him.
“Mind you, this is only a guess,” He sat at his desk. “But I think the clue here is how different Halcyon is from you.”
“How so?” I really wanted to get dressed, but I'd learned you couldn't rush Doc. Besides I wanted to know what to expect too.
“I'm thinking that your original pattern has indeed been over written, but not by Halcyon's. The one we're seeing here is your double's before they became her.” He rubbed at his eyes.
“I have no idea of how it was done.” Doc admitted. “Given the superhero thing perhaps it was magic or some kind of mad science. In some fashion, two patterns were pushed on top of each other and when we opened our link, that first pattern got pushed downstream, if you will, onto you.”
“And the reason why I seem to be younger is because its been in a kind of stasis all this time?” I tried to follow his reasoning.
“That is as good a guess as any of mine.” He smiled. “But you do know what this means, right?”
I got that bad feeling as the glee in his eyes registered with my hind brain.
“No, Doc.” Bracing myself for the bad news, I just had to ask. “What does it mean?”
“It means we have to test both of your forms for powers!” He held up his stun gun again. “This is only the beginning!”
I could only stare at him in horror, oh no!
“Doc!” I screamed as the platform collapsed out from under my feet.
“Note that Kingfisher can fly.” The Scientist told his assistant.
I stared at the baseball pitching machine that was in the corner of the room I was told to report.
“Ah guys?” The door locked behind me.
“Note that Kingfisher is vulnerable to blunt force trauma.” Dr. Schneider instructed.
Feeling more than a little paranoid, I watched the departing Humvee throwing up a plume of snow in the crew's haste to leave my locale. Already feeling a little edgy because I was Halcyon for this test, I glanced down to make sure I wasn't standing in the middle of a bullseye or something.
Snow flew up as a Sha'leian 'bot sat up abruptly where it'd been hidden revealing its plasma burners.
“Note,” The Scientist observed the mushroom cloud as the blast wave from the concussion blast washed over them. “It's confirmed Halcyon can absorb and explosively release energy from a Sha'leian combat robot's short range energy weapons.”
Macdill AFB
“Stop fidgeting!” Sheila scolded as she adjusted the fabric.
Staring straight ahead in the best 'guy at the urinal' tradition, I ignored what she was draping Halcyon in. I would rather be back at the snow covered sandy ranges at Camp MacKall being tortured in all kinds of demented ways by Doc Schneider and his cohorts.
“You're acting as if I'm fitting you for a shroud,” She mocked glared at me. “It's only a dress!”
“Only a dress.” I echoed, disgruntled. “In case you've missed it, I don't wear women clothing!”
“You run around in that skin tight catsuit and you don't have a problem with that.” She stuck some more pins in the cloth.
“That's because it's my uniform,” I primly replied. “I have to wear it, but that doesn't mean I like it! There's a reason way I cover it up with my parka and gloves every chance I get.”
“Okay,” She relented. “Maybe I am being a pushy broad, but you have such a figure I couldn't wait to see you really dressed up.”
“It's kinda my fault too.” I sighed. “I have a problem saying no to you. It does bother me because, while I do look like a living Barbie Doll, inside my head, I'm not.” I tapped my noggin.
“However, If it makes you happy then I'm willing.” I tried to graciously surrender.
“But you're way out of your comfort zone.” Sheila continued for me.
“At least you're not trying to put me in heels!” I began, but stopped as she looked guiltily away.
“Oh come on!” I protested looking at her standing on a stool just to get high enough to reach my shoulders. “I'm seven feet tall! Assuming you can even find a pair to fit me, I'll be almost two feet taller than you.”
The little minx glanced knowingly at my chest, suggesting she knew exactly where her head would be in relation to me. My golden face blushed coppery as she smirked.
What else could I do? I leaned forward and kissed her.
It still amazes me that as tough as I am as Halcyon, my lips and err, other delicate parts are so sensitive. I might look like an animated golden statue, but everything works just as if I was made of flesh. Doc's tests proved that whatever my skin was made of, under magnification it appeared to be the same as the metal, gold.
However, it was also alive, warm to the touch and, as Sheila had also proved, responsive. While I can honestly say I enjoy intimate relations with her more as Craig or under my new male codename of Kingfisher, Halcyon's sensations weren't bad either.
I suppose how long our kiss lasted was proof of that.
“Ouch!” Sheila broke off our lip-lock after sticking herself with one of the many pins holding this dress in progress together.
It was my turn to smirk since I was more or less completely safe from the hundreds of needle sharp pins, she'd been using to make this … clothing.
Her smoldering stare promised I would either really regret that kiss or enjoy revenge way too much.
“Heels.” She decreed. “Definitely something sexy.”
Sighing, I knew I'd been outmaneuvered yet again.
On the other hand, I had something prepared for her, a surprise. It'd been great that Doc let me have a few days of leave so I could spend Christmas with her. With the extra time needed to set up more testing for both of 'me,' I was set to join the first R course class at the beginning of the year.
“Honestly Craig.” He told me. “Having your two forms to compare against each other, we need time to design tests that can measure the differences as precisely as we can. We might not know what it means, but you're unique and that alone makes the data invaluable.
“So go!” He damn near pushed me onto the plane. “Enjoy the holidays with your girl. Just be ready for us to run you ragged when you get back. Between the new tests and starting classes, we're going to work you hard.”
So here I am, getting fitted for a damn dress of all things. What's more, it's for a Christmas Ball that the Re-birthers had arranged. Remembering the days of their youth, they had set up an old fashioned dance despite it lacking a big band.
It'd begun as something smallish, but it'd grown like crazy as even the younger generations became interested. I suspected a large part was just wanting to celebrate life while War and death surrounded us.
Sheila had talked me into this, but I was pretty sure she was making not one, but two outfits for Halcyon. One was for the dance, but the other was for Christmas Dinner which our Sha'leian, do I dare call them friends, are scheduled to attend.
Thanksgiving had turned out surprisingly well. All I can say is that I have hope. With the early winter, warehoused food stocks were just about gone. Blue Soylent had shouldered the burden of feeding a large portion of the world. Considering some of the bio-matter that was going into the vats, the old' Soylent Green is People,' would be a step up, cannibalism taboo or not.
Unfortunately, if it was her plan to put me in a dress for Christmas Dinner I was going to have to say no. Practical considerations, such as being prepared to fight for our lives meant a more conservative attire. On the other hand, she would undoubtedly make me pay for that. Who knows, I might enjoy it!
“Okay!” She announced cheerfully. “I'm finished. Let's get this off of you.”
Carefully with her help and wiggling out of the imprisoning cloth and pins, I was free!
That is until she ran her hands down my golden legs causing me to shiver and it wasn't from the cold. The aggressor while I was Halcyon despite my height difference, she stood tiptoed on her stool to reach my lips. Together, we celebrated life in our own way.
Well, I sighed, at least my feet didn't hurt. The evening hadn't been the ordeal I feared, mostly because Sheila and my friends helped make it an enjoyable experience. Perhaps I didn't do much in the way of dancing, but that had more than a little to do with being over seven feet tall in those 'sexy' shoes Sheila had made me wear.
I'd learned she'd hit up one of those 3D printer shops just to get the damn things in my size. The rest was good old crafting gluing on rubber soles and putting in inner linings. That's why I said my feet didn't hurt since I'd cheated by using my flight to take up most of my weight.
It was also cool to be able to catch up on stuff with Paul, Dave, Janice and Libby. Like most the guys here, the gents were in uniforms with most the ladies wore dresses and gowns. Let's say it was just beyond strange to lump myself with the rest the girls.
Of course everyone had something to say about the one Sheila made for me. The deep sapphire blue matched that of Halcyon's hair and the green accents really went well with my eyes, or so all the ladies said. Honestly all I could say was it did look nice even if I did feel very much out of my element by a magnitude or two.
It was all more of that dissociative thing again. Now, I guess, I was just better at handling it. That was a good thing since this was one of the very rare occasions I was Halcyon and didn't have my uniform Skins on. A five-eight guy in the dress and heels of a seven feet tall woman just wouldn't be so pretty which meant freak outs and involuntary changes back weren't allowed!
I also did my best not to think too much about the 'undies' I had on underneath. Never in a million years have I ever imagined having anything like 'these' things on me. A beautiful girl like Sheila in 'those' things had often graced my lonely bachelor dreams, but never ever me!
So what surprises did she have waiting for me when we got back to her quarters?
Lingerie
“I can't do this.” The whisper escaped me.
“Yes, you can.” She breathed in my ear. “Let me show you.”
Guiding me in front of a strategically placed mirror, Sheila's gentle hands sensually unzipped the back of the dress. Letting it fall to the floor as she hugged me, I learned a lot more about why women really liked those silky things.
Waking up with her in my arms as the light came in though the curtains was a memory I tried my very best to burn into my brain. I'd changed back during the night. Even as unique as my case seemed to be, I couldn't stay changed all the time, but I was good for almost six hours now instead of just a couple. Doc had helped me a lot to get a handle on what I could and couldn't do despite his unconventional approach.
Watching Sheila sleep in my arms, I was more and more coming to terms with the weirdness in my life. For all that aspects of Halcyon still alarmed the hell out of me, not all of being a living, golden statue was bad.
“Merry Christmas.” She smiled looking up at me.
“Merry Christmas.” I was lost filled with all the things I felt for her.
“I'm the luckiest girl in the whole world.” Sheila shifted in my arms as she pitched her voice high like Betty Boop's.
“How's that?” I asked, enjoying the moment.
“I get to go to bed with a beautiful woman and wake up in the strong arms of a man.” Her lips met mine making me the luckiest man alive.
Much later we found ourselves at Dean's again. This time we weren't as quite loaded down with food, but we still had more than enough to feed everyone. From Shelia I learned that he had far less trouble this time getting some kind of official sanction.
The whole Alien Warfare Center had been pumping reports like crazy. They even correctly called the current lull in Sha'leian incursions. Perhaps they did miss that Nano-bombing in Russia, but still it wasn't a bad call, since the report said no landings, but not so for all activity.
I was personally hoping that the method the Japanese used to stop the attack on them would be shared with all nations. Then again Russia was having to learn that the game had changed. No more could they count on their vicious winters to wear down their enemies. If they wanted help, they had to be willing to give aid to their neighbors without strings attached.
Eventually everyone would see the truth that a very smart man by the name of Benjamin Franklin once said. “We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.”
The world had never faced a threat like the Sha'leian Invasion. Even with casualties that numbered past a billion there were still hold outs. Regional differences and old quarrels still ruled even as freezing cold blotted out the summer in the southern hemisphere. The question was how bad did things have to get to make people put aside those old hates for the sake of all our survival.
This time I didn't need to do a walk-around security check since Dean and Tamara were already here. Having help dragging in the groceries was nice. Okay, I did take a quick look around and check that the barn was clear enough to be used as hanger again.
Everything was good with no surprises. However, what did astonish me was Dean meeting me on the way back from the barn.
“I just wanted to talk to you.” He looked tired and had lost weight.
“Sure.” I shrugged. It would take a lot to spoil my present mood. Sheila and I had done nothing, but give each other sappy smiles all day.
“Just how bad are things, really?” Dean stared up at the snowy sky. It wasn't snowing hard, but it was snowing. The weather forecast called for significant accumulation, meaning we would be wise to leave early to be sure we could get back to base. Getting snowed in would not be good.
“I've been in testing the past month.” Merely thinking about some of Doc Schneider's diabolical trials made me want to go hide. “So I have no idea what the line units are like. If you're asking about the scuttlebutt, I can say it's not good.”
He nodded for me to go ahead.
“Recruiting has dropped off as we reach a balance between who has to build, feed, and take care of all of those who are fighting.” I began. “The Defense Advanced Research Project Agency, DARPA, is still testing better infantry weapons, but the few I saw are still falling short. The crew served weapons worked best, but against the Sha'leian war machines they have to be damn well trained to work together or they just become casualties.
“The M-1 Abrams is still our best weapons system. A combination of regular manufacturing and 3D printing is keeping up with our need for M-1's, but we've just about run out of reconditioned rail-guns to arm them. We can make the guns themselves, but the automated ammo supply systems that keeps them in bullets are beyond us.
“I hear they're trying a kludged together system that uses a hopper that is loaded before-hand from the M-1's that do have working systems.” I didn't have to say what a disadvantage that was. Those damn guns burn though ammo like there was no tomorrow.
“On a hopeful note.” I forced a smile. “I hear the Brits have just about licked the collimator problem to give our captured plasma burners some useful range. Maybe not anywhere as good as those rail-guns, but still significantly out range their own burners. Of course, they would still need to be mounted on tanks given the power requirements, but we wouldn't have to worry about running out of ammunition. Plus we have quite a few in storage so we won't be running out any time soon.
“Less happy is the news overseas.” I frowned. “It's almost certain that sooner or later they will establish a beachhead, a permanent landing site. Most likely in a third world country near a large city. Most those nations simply don't have the manpower or equipment to fight them off.”
“I was afraid of that.” Dean sighed, explaining, as we stepped into the toasty kitchen. He told the girls. “Just explaining the civilian side of the problem.”
“You see for decades, the USA was the nation others looked to for help.” Dean and Tamara shared a look saying they had already talked about this. “This isn't true any longer. Our primary means of extending our power, the Navy, has been wrecked.”
I nodded. Unlike the aliens from the movies, the Sha'leians had sent a kinetic strike at every carrier group that was at sea. The ones at port remained untouched, but they couldn't launch any aircraft, but for helicopters, Harrier jump-jets and the few F-35's in service. It wasn't just the U.S. either. Everyone with a carrier or anything that looked like a fleet at sea got hit. Single ships had been ignored as long as they weren't carriers. The Marines had gotten slammed hard because their amphibious ships had large flight decks.
“With so much of our infrastructure damaged.” Tamara added, “Transportation of raw materials and sub-assemblies have become much more difficult. We are keeping up with our needs, but we're not the world's arsenal anymore. The days of endless 'aid' to the world has gone along with it.
“We might be holding on.” Dean sat down at the kitchen table, “But the world is losing this War. All Soylent Blue and other discoveries have done is to delay the inevitable.
“We tried a massed nuke strike using ICBM's that'd been refitted with quantum drives.” He held his head in his hands. “Not a one got close enough to cause damage. Their drones with with missiles and burners wiped out the bulk of the attack and the Sha'leian ship's own defenses took care of the rest.”
I nodded unsurprised. Ralt had suggested their ship was a warship. The fact they'd boosted their defense using the drones they'd manufactured here was an interesting fact to bear in mind.
“That hasn't been released to even the Intel Center yet.” Sheila glared at our host.
“With the constant overcast.” Dean explained. “Most people couldn't see it and with communications being harder these days, those that could haven't gotten the word out yet.
“Everyone who had anything to launch, participated.” Tamara added, sounding just as tired. “The Secretary of State pulled out all the stops to get anyone who could help as part of the operation.”
“No one knows just how many missiles were fired, because of malfunctions and dud birds, but it was our Sunday punch.” He reported.
“Okay, we tried for a knockout and we missed.” Sheila looked at both of them. “Why are you telling us now?”
“You remember the report you turned about two weeks ago about our Thanksgiving dinner?” Dean asked. “What do you figure the odds?”
“Ah.” I nodded getting part of the why. “Given the Away Team hit the lull on the nose, based on the same information, perhaps 40%.”
“At Thanksgiving, both Tash and Ralt showed they'd been studying Earth history.” I explained. “ Again and again successful attacks and offenses have tried to get the element of surprise by attacking during holidays and other unexpected occasions. This is the one time of year that the majority of the world celebrates in some fashion. Sure, China and India have huge populations and don't celebrate the month, but that will be something to watch out for during their holidays.
“So you think they're going to pull a Pearl Harbor?” Sheila asked sharply. She had after all been a young adult during the Day of Infamy.
“More like 'Battle of the Bulge'” I corrected her. “In the lull I'll bet they've been building up a huge reserve of forces, and I'll also lay odds they've worked out a way around our jamming their communications. Whether with more intelligent AI's or just plain bypassing the jammers somehow, they've got an advantage and they're going to make it count.”
“And the rest?” Dean took a deep breath, bracing himself for my answer. “How they'll pick landing zones that are difficult for us to respond?”
“I'm pretty sure they'll pick hard areas to access, but are still near large cities.” I explained. “They could've already had beachheads if they'd set down in desolate deserts, jungles or tundra. No one would've ever known until the army of 'bots came thundering out.
“Instead, we see them trying to take cities.” I shook my head at the illogical decision. “I think because they see built up areas as having access to easy raw materials. With landings in areas that our military have trouble getting to, like the French did in the Alps, they hope to have their cake and eat it too.
“That's why I'm really hoping Tash and Ralt make it today.” I took a deep breath. “That's a sign that perhaps, I'm wrong. I really want to be mistaken about this.”
“That's what the Intel Center thinks too.” Dean didn't look happy. “We put out the warning about a possible landing attempt, but we really couldn't give much information as to the details.”
“That does sound a little like Pearl Harbor.” I nodded. “They had warning, but didn't have any idea of what to expect.”
“Yeah.” He agreed. “After our relative intelligence success during Thanksgiving, the bosses are pushing for us to be more aggressive about getting information.”
“I would be against that.” Shaking my head, I thought that was a very bad idea. “We've done well to have as good rapport as we have. That could sour any future meetings.”
“That's the problem.” Tamara hugged herself, showing her distress. “The thought is going around that there won't be any humans here to have any more meetings.”
I glanced at Sheila, but she gave me this helpless little shrug confirming she didn't know any of this.
“So that's what this is about?” I made myself smile. “Letting me know you're going against your better judgment and changing our plans?”
Neither one returned my smile or my insight. Sheila's eyes told me she approved even before I'd opened my mouth.
“Let me make you a deal.” I was already regretting this despite knowing it was the right thing to do. “Keep to the original program and let's see what happens. If it truly looks as if we're going to come up dry, then we can push things along. Honestly, I don't think we're going to have to, but there it is. If you have a problem, I've taken the blame before when thing went wrong, and I'm willing to do it again. This is the right thing.”
They looked relieved to have this decision out of his hands although technically he and Tamara were the leaders of this dubious back channel diplomatic affair.
“Now that we've decided the fate of the world.” Sheila gave us her best sergeant's glare. “We have a Christmas Dinner to prepare. Let's get to it!”
Standing outside watching the snow drift down, I pulled my parka closer to me. My life long addiction to reading had introduced me to military history. One saying that'd stayed with me was how tough it was waiting.
Somewhere up above those clouds an alien ship threatened everyone on the whole damn planet. Were they planning to give us yet another very unwanted holiday surprise? Did that missile storm of nukes change any of their decisions although it failed? Did it embolden them or make them cautious wondering what other tricks we had up our crafty monkey-boy sleeves?
Then there were the thoughts about me. Once I'd wondered just how could any version of me turn themselves into something like Halcyon. That form was so not me that I had not taken my Prometheus's Gift very well. On one hand, I got everything I wanted. Who wouldn't want to be able to fly, or be strong enough to lift cars one handed?
On the other, being a larger than life sexy, caricature of femininity more than made up for any of the advantages. It took the tough love of a no nonsense woman like Sheila to lead me down the path to adaption. I don't think I could ever love this, but perhaps I could get used to it.
Which bought up the point of Doc Schneider's diagnosis. Unlike every Prometheus's Child to date, I really did have my quantum pattern overwritten. Glancing at my hands, they were really those of the Craig Elder from that other universe. Considering some of the things Doc thinks might've caused that pattern to shoot out like a liquid under pressure to me, it was damn near a certainty that something terrible had happened.
Yet somehow that me, that Craig Elder, was still alive.
A disturbance in the white stuff falling from the sky pulled me from my introspection.
I smiled at the good omen. Sha'leian stealth tech was very good, but even it couldn't do anything about the snow that actually landed on the saucer nor the 'shadow' it made in the snowfall.
Opening the barn doors that I'd previously cleared of the mini-snowdrift, I waved them in. It seemed we might avoid any alien holiday surprise attacks after all. Crossing, my fingers I silently prayed to the wintery sky. Please.
However, while I waved with my right hand, the left had my thumb firmly over my Q-Box button. Sheila with her sewing-fu had hemmed a slit in my parka's pocket so I could reach it. We had been warned that a third Sha'leian was coming to dinner. I was hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst.
Damn the War and the paranoia it fostered!
When the landing ramp and doors unsealed, I let myself feel a bit more hope when a storm of invaders didn't pour out.
“Happy Holidays!” My open palm across my heart, I used the politically correct phase trying for tact.
Tash, stepping down the ramp, had a bag in one hand as he waved human style.
“Happy Holidays to you too, Quantum Warrior.” The pliable beak like mouth displayed the Sha'leian equivalent of a smile.
“Good to see you Tash!” I shook his extended hand.
“This is Kzon.” He introduced a parrot green Sha'leian.
“I am pleased to be here.” The newcomer held out his hand.
“Good to meet you too, Kzon.” Shaking hands, I took pains to get his name right. “Happy Holidays!”
“You too, Ralt. Happy Holidays!” I called to the Sha'leian soldier as he closed the saucer's hatch behind him.
“We weren't sure we would be able to make it.” He said as we exchanged salutes and hand shakes. “There was some recent excitement.”
“I can make some guesses.” That was one way of describing having hundreds of nukes fired at you. “Just learned about that myself, but I'm afraid the details from both of our viewpoints falls under those 'uncomfortable' tropics. However, that is the problem with being on the opposing sides of a struggle. For today there is no conflict between us.
“But, I have to say this.” I took a deep breath. “I can not guarantee your safety today. The cause of your 'excitement' has worried and pushed many into desperation. If you leave, I will understand why.”
The three Sha'leians exchanged words and looks.
“We will stay.” Tash very solemnly spoke for them, as Ralt and Kzon nodded. “For today there is no War between us.”
“Well then!” I grinned. “Our Christmas feast awaits!”
Dean's face mirrored my own relieved feelings as I and our Guests entered the kitchen.
“Happy Holidays!” were the heartfelt greetings of the day.
“We come bearing gifts.” Tash announced, happily.
Personally, I would've preferred the 'glad tidings' that they were leaving the Solar System, but all things considered I would take what I could get.
“We too have gifts.” Dean smiled as things kept more or less to our previously made plans. “Let's take turns.”
As gifts were exchanged, I took the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity.
“Do the Sha'leians have occasions that they give gifts?” I asked as everyone made themselves comfortable.
“We do.” Answered Ralt. “Although we have nothing like your Christmas. Our religious celebrations are more of group affairs. Our gift giving is reserved for individual accomplishments such as reaching ones majority or other successful achievements.
“We have similar events as well.” Nodding, I thought of birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs and graduations.
Tash's eyes widened as he opened the present containing a multi-tool knife I'd picked out.
“It's not quite as versatile as one of your Morphers, but it doesn't draw power either.” I happily enjoyed his curious expression as he unfolded one tool at a time.
It was Sheila's turn to be shocked as she unwrapped a gift from Tash, a set of Skins.
“I don't know what to say.” She stared at the priceless generation zero clothing.
“We modified the control box to appear like a Quantum Warrior's.” Ralt said, clearly saying he helped with the gift. “It has additional functions so that it can appear inconspicuous since wearing such appears to be a honor unique to the Pantheon Unit members.”
“It is and I thank you.” She replied gracefully.
Then it was my turn to be flabbergasted.
The bright red wrapping paper was more cellophane like than normal gift wrap, but that was okay. It was what was inside that blew my mind. It was a ten inch tablet, but one that had no manufacturer's logos. The cover had a keyboard on the inside and a hinged part where you could prop up the screen for use as a net-book.
The screen displayed 'Merry Christmas' in a traditional style illuminated with holly leaves and berries. Underneath it had a blinking green button that said, 'start.'
“It is safe.” Ralt addressed my paranoia.”Your present only has connectivity with a specific attachment. Neither we nor our ship can track or locate you using this device.”
Turning the tablet on its side I saw the USB port and a glance in the box revealed a dongle with an emblem of the old RKO pictures logo of the broadcast tower with lighting bolts emitting from its top.
Not sure of just what I was getting myself in for I pressed the 'start' button as everyone looked over my shoulder.
There was the usual rolls of icons, but the names caught my eye: The Library of Congress, Project Gutenberg, and most of all Internet Archive.
“Holy...” Touching that Icon, an HTML search box appeared.
“Yes, Craig.” Ralt was enjoying my shock. “It is an archived copy of your Internet taken before it unfortunately crashed.”
Okay he left out that his people were the ones doing the crashing, but this just wasn't possible.
“This can't possibly hold a copy of the whole Net!” I replied. “It would take more memory than I can even imagine.”
“Well,” Tash gave a little. “We did have to condense things a little doing away with multiple entries and postings of data. All told it was only about 12,000 petabytes. It should be considerably faster since we indexed everything. Computers are our specialty.”
“There is one other file you might find of interest.” Said Kzon, who'd stayed mostly silent up to now. “Go back to the main menu and look for Sha'leian Library.”
At the very suggestion that name conjured up, I thought Dean was going to leap across the sofa and wrestle me for the tablet.
Just like Tash had said, this thing was lightning fast. You touch a button, it happens, no delay, with super crisp graphics that put everything I'd ever seen to shame.
“When I was told about the giving of gifts, I didn't know what to do.” Kzon explained.
“Don't feel like you're alone.” Sheila laughed. “Many of us humans feel the same way. That's why there are last minute shoppers.”
“But I am an avid reader as well as being good with languages.” The green Sha'leian continued. “So I translated many of my favorite books and added them to the device.”
“Thank you so very much.” I felt like I'd just found the Rosetta Stone and it'd been gift wrapped. We needed this so very much. Any clue what made our guests tick were priceless.
Treating the tablet like it was made of fragile crystal, I put it back into its padded box. Even if they'd lied and it did have a 'backdoor' this thing was beyond priceless.
“When we were talking during our last visit I mentioned the internet.” Ralt explained. “It was rude of me since you no longer had access. I hope this gift helps?”
Dean, Tamara, and Sheila's face had my same expression, shocked, awed, and disbelief.
“It most certainly does.” Putting it to the side, I made certain it would be safe. “And thank you.”
Deans' face as he got a identical tablet was priceless! I thought he was going to jump and start doing the happy dance in front of us all.
Then it was my turn again. In the most garish green wrapping paper you ever saw, I found a new Batman belt complete with wallet!
“I remember how you lost yours in our first meeting.” Tash's pliable yellow beak smiled. “This material is the same as your uniform and comes with a separate control for its functions. This gives a much greater range of functions besides the basic ones you're using now.”
“Thank you, Tash.” I smiled back. I never did find that damn wallet, and had been making do with a new one purchased out of the Base Exchange.
To make a long story short, each of us received a set of Skins and a Sha'leian tablet with Kzon's library. I thought Dean was going to get up and dance with his new tablet, while Tamara was just simply in overload. As for Sheila I definitely saw the mischief in her eyes as she examined her Skins.
As for our Guests they were damn hard to shop for. Just what do you get friendly alien invaders for Christmas?
The multi-tool was my attempt since, the one I carried was the best thing I'd ever brought myself. It'd saved my bacon on more than one occasion. Sheila found a collection of novelty ties featuring Marvin the Martian, and Dean gifted them with an assortment of brain teasers. Tamara had found each of them fancy watches from somewhere and had added some adjustable bands given the physiology of their arms.
“I think its time for dinner.” Sheila decreed as she and Tamara headed off to the kitchen to bring the food to the table.
Meanwhile Dean and I were trying not to chuckle at the Sha'leians in their neckties and wrist watches. He'd volunteered to show them how to tie a Windsor knot. My multi-tool gift had simply been attached to their belts as they should be.
We'd just gotten everything to the table and about to sit down when all our Guests froze. Startled they looked at each other speaking in rapid bursts of their own language.
“We have to go.” Ralt said, gathering his gifts. “The recall has sounded.”
“Get on the radio!” I said to Dean, as they left out the door.
Then I turned to Sheila who was already hustling, putting the food away.
“I'm on it!” She drafted Tamara to help.
“I'll help them get airborne.” Running out the door, I beat our Guests to the barn.
“We're sorry.” Tash began as Kzon and Ralt hurried inside the saucer.
“Nothing to apologize for.” I gave him that Sha'leian salute. “You have your duty as I have mine. Now get inside while I force these doors all the way open.”
“Farewell, Quantum Warrior.” He waved before the hatch sealed.
“God's speed.” I replied, wondering if this was the last time we would meet in peace.
The saucer edged out carefully, but as soon as it was clear, Ralt, the pilot, threw caution to the wind, going hell for leather straight up.
Nearly blown off my feet, I turned and ran for the house.
Sheila had thrown most of the prepared feast into the fridge, but what could travel went into her Caddie. It went fast since she'd expected to have little time after dinner because of the need to leave quickly to avoid being snowed in. As always she'd been prepared.
I feared everything from a kinetic strike to F-35's on a bomb run. It was vital we get out of here fast.
“MacDill isn't aware of anything, but the word is out.” Dean reported as we got moving.
Not more than ten minutes later we were on the road. I had to briefly change to Halcyon to brute force the cars to the main road, but that went quick.
The drive back to base while not a nightmare was stressful as hell. It was the not-knowing and waiting that was tough. Sheila leading in her Caddie used her decades of experience in driving in wintery stuff to plow a path.
Only once did I have to do the Halcyon thing again, but that hardly slowed us. Immediately, I changed back as to not accumulate a cool-down. I had to think about conserving my strength. There was the real possibility that I would be thrown into battle, still in testing or not.
The base was on full alert when we entered which was a sure sign something bad had gone down. I hate it when I'm right.
As soon as we hit doors we got the bad news. They had dropped on Asheville, NC which was right in the middle of a major storm. Just freaking perfect.
“Here” Sheila set a plate of food in front of me. “We will figure out a way.”
“I sure hope so.” They picked one hell of a spot to sit down. Early reports say they're using the various national park visitor center's parking lots as landing pads along the Blue Ridge Parkway. None of that is good ground for our best weapon against them, tanks.
“Just to show they can learn they're using drones to take out bridges and attack anything that's moving. On those mountain roads, it's that shooting-fish-in-a-barrel thing.” I rubbed my eyes. “That explains why they had so many of the damn things to defend against that nuke strike.
“I'd wondered if our dinner thing had somehow triggered this.” Taking a bite of the stuffing, I made myself savor the taste. This was likely to be my last meal of real food for a long time.
“However, I think it was instead that attempted nuke strike that did the trick.” I stared at a map of the area. “Perhaps they thought revealing just how many drones they'd built tipped their hand. Be that as it may letting Tash and Ralt attend our dinner as scheduled did keep us from sounding the alarm any earlier.”
“I don't think they knew.” Sheila ignored the military public display of affection rules as she rubbed my shoulders. “Maybe the decision hadn't been made yet when they started on their way.”
“Could be.” I admitted. “Despite all we've learned about them, they are still aliens, so it could go either way. On the other hand, I'm inclined to say our friends had every intention of keeping the peace and their word.
“But that doesn't help us with this mess.” The storm is making nearly impossible to get people into the area, but it isn't slowing their 'bots in the least. It seems they are using a new tactic of using drones to transport 'bots in air assault tactics. They've set rail-gun heavy detachments on all the surrounding peaks and choke points. None of our air assets can get close.”
What I didn't say was how worried I was about our guys on the ground. Dear fearless leader, General Benson, was not one to patiently pick apart a puzzle. The second he thought he had an opening he would be moving.
South Carolina and North Carolina National Guard units were responding which included an entire brigade of heavy armor, the 218th. The 82nd Airborne out of Ft. Bragg was reported riding up with the NC NG 252nd armor regiment.
I just knew Benson would try a Patton counter-attack in the Ardennes, but this time it was the bad guys who were entrenched.
And I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
Anything not grounded by the weather was being impressed into action at Asheville. So I wasn't going back to Camp Mackall anytime soon although I was officially assigned to Pantheon Team Alpha. The training unit wasn't even to suppose to be active until after New Years.
Sheila gave me a hug before going to check on the latest reports. That left me all the time in the world to glare at the plastic Christmas tree sitting in one corner of the office.
“Merry Christmas.” I laid my head on the desk.
New Years Eve
“You know this is F'ing insane don't you?” The F-35 crew chief checked my modified and jury-rigged parachute harness fitted with suspension lugs.
Air Force Captain Doug, 'Da' Bus', Ingebretson silently nodded his agreement.
“You just get me there close and fast enough, Captain.” I was glad I'd emptied myself out earlier. Otherwise I would be soiling myself, and wouldn't that just ruin the image of the crazed Pantheon bad-ass.
Assuming the position on the munitions cradle never meant for a person, the suspension hooks engaged the lugs on my harness. The chief checked my helmet and air-mask as well as the auxiliary oxygen system crammed into a modified drop tank.
At my thumbs up, the bay doors closed, carrying Halcyon, me, inside the barely large enough internal compartment. I was imprisoned in darkness.
Every moment I was cursing a certain Army General and every Sha'leian that'd ever been born.
Feeling us taxiing, I tried to think of anything, but this mad plan I myself had suggested. Okay, I'd only wanted an aircraft to get me up to speed so I could zoom by all the rail-gun emplacements. Unfortunately, after a lot brainstorming the only thing that looked like it might work was something so absolutely bug-house nuts, even the Special Forces guys looked at me as if I'd a screw loose. Hell, by my agreeing to this insanity, they were right!
“Standby, I'm lighting the burner in five, four, three, two, one.” 'Da' Bus' warned over the cobbled together intercom that used the bay's normal data linking with its payload.
Even as Halcyon, I grunted as the harness grabbed into me as the quantum drive drove us forward.
Sheila going to kill me.
Boxing Day December 26
“We've lost contact with the Eastern US Quick Reaction Task Force Command Post.” The very tired looking acting commanding general told us. “Remnants of The 218th Brigade have reported that the assault on the enemy's beachhead failed. The 82nd is holding Asheville, but determined interdiction by enemy air assets forced the majority of our armor to withdraw.
“It appears that their autofacs are resupplying the drones with missiles as they perform sweeps across the entire region.” The General's face was haggard. “First of all there were not one, but three T-Rex class command tanks which means this beachhead had much greater numbers than their previous attempts. They also had significant reserve forces which targeted our jamming capability.”
I looked at the mixed matched group of Special Forces, Pantheon, and other military officers at this briefing. Technically I was temporarily attached to Team Epsilon again, or I should say what was left of it. Athena and one other were only the survivors which was the reason why we knew as much as we did about what we faced.
The numbers clicked with me. Each command tank controlled one hundred 'bots and drones. With the jamming out, the Sha'leians were directly controlling that fourth group which was raising hell all over the area of operations.
It seemed, both Dean and I were right. They did take out the jamming and did make more use of their AI's, if only building and making more use of them instead of making them all more capable.
Athena being a mixture of strong woman and speedster had dragged out a badly wounded teammate. Standing by herself, she looked beat. Hell, we all looked beaten. Team Epsilon was a team only in name. Only Athena and I even knew each other, plus none of us had trained together. Delta and Gamma Teams were the only other ones who were close enough to respond, and Rangers from Ft. Benning in Georgia were here too. Speaking of which, the 3rd Infantry Division was on the move from Ft. Benning and Ft. Stewart also in Georgia.
The problem was time.
Whatever losses General Benson's attack had inflicted on the Sha'leian, they would be back to full strength in short order with those autofacs. The fact of the drones being so aggressive with their missiles suggested that was a done deal.
Just one hundred 'bot's and drones needed a brigade or better strength to put them down. With four times that, along with weather conditions and terrain, the Sha'leians had created a meat grinder waiting for us to insert selected parts of our anatomy.
Then they would move forward taking another city leaving behind a command tank and its 'bots as garrison. They would expand, gobbling us up like a virus.
Then there was me. I could take out those command tanks, but there was the matter of the pain. Maybe those plasma burners and rail-guns did no lasting damage, but the pain from them wore me out. With this defense in depth the Sha'leians had adopted, I would never make it.
Maybe Kingfisher was tougher and had powers, but tests had proved I was vulnerable to baseballs, and no doubt rail-guns as well. If only there was some way I could get in fast enough to bypass all those defenses.
My flight speed as only about 200 mph. Doc's educated guess was that I pushed against gravity, falling in the direction I wanted to go. With my slick Skins and tutoring by jump masters for the correct posture, I'd learned to get the most out of it just like those wing-suit folks who could reach similar speeds.
But if I could get boosted even faster I could zoom right by those rail-gun emplacements guarding the peaks. My flight would let me maneuver so I could fly Nap of Earth, not letting all those guns get a shot at me.
The briefing ended and everyone clustered around the map looking for a solution to the Gordian Knot of the alien defenses. I had my own plan.
“Athena.” I addressed my team leader. “I have an idea.”
“Coming up on the release point.” 'Da' Bus' informed me.
The conversation between the Air Force guys and the Special Forces Jump-Masters might've humorous in different circumstances. The Zoomie's were trying to figure out what munition I was closest to in order to program when I should be 'jettisoned' while the Jump-Masters were working out the details for a parachute drop.
In truth I was neither, which meant both had to kinda meet in the middle with their best guesses. There were no time to test this. The All American Division and what part of the 218th which had stubbornly stayed behind were pulling a bloody-minded house by house defense of Asheville.
Still a lightly armed division even with the line airborne troopers humping bull-pup .50 cal. Barretts, multi-shot 40mm grenade launchers and every anti-tank weapon they could carry, they were seriously out of their weight class. They did what American soldiers with their backs to the wall always did. They adapted, improvised and when that failed, they died fighting for their country so their loved ones would be safe.
About the only testing we did was Halcyon holding her breath with a plastic bag over my head so I couldn't cheat. At an hour Athena threw in the towel, but still insisted I have oxygen available to me until the very last moment.
“Affirmative.” I replied, disconnecting and securing the aux O2 hose. Grasping my harness, so my arms wouldn't flap about, I was careful not to damage the straps. “Prepared for drop.”
“Opening bay doors in five.” He began the countdown.
After being trapped in that dark, tight space, the pure shock of being swung outward on the opening doors had me mewing like a lost kitten. Snow and ice from the supposedly weakening storm pinged off my helmet like a sandblaster. With Halcyon's emerald eyes I could see the white covered trees whipping by as I hung suspended under the jet.
“Ready for release?” 'Da' Bus' gave me one last chance to chicken out.
I heard the unsaid, 'No one would blame you if you did.'
“Just make damn certain, nobody is late to the party.” How in the world I kept from stuttering is beyond me. “It's going to be awfully damn lonely out-there all by myself.”
“I'll drag 'em by the ear myself if I have to.” 'Da' Bus' replied, making a promise. “In five, four, three, two, one, release.”
I dove to clear the F-35 and its airflow. 'Da' Bus' banked away hard as we neared the range of the Sha'lean rail-gun anti-aircraft umbrella. His bay doors were snapping shut to 'cloak' again with his plane's designed stealth.
The Air Force had learned the hard way, who had air superiority over Asheville and it wasn't them. The Army weren't the only ones waiting for me to wreck those command tanks. The Fly Boys were just itching for some payback and they had plenty of Navy and Marines buddies who were ready to help them collect.
Slapping the harness release, and helmet strap, both went flying away lost in the darkness. All I had on was a pair of goggles for my eyes leaving my Skins to cover the rest of me from head to toe. My Q-Box rode at the small of my back under my Skins since I lacked even my new Batman belt this time. I was as aerodynamically slick as it was possible for a human body to be.
Zooming silently in the darkness, I could still see with my emerald eyes. It was both exhilarating and scarier than anything I'd ever done. I'd been dropped as fast as we dared with the worry being how quickly I could maneuver so close to the ground, at night, in a blizzard.
The first turn got cut closer than I liked causing snow to fly from the top of a tall pine. The next twist was a little better, but that was when it got interesting. I dropped down low over a river on a straight away, then another cut to the right.
A line of trees exploded into splinters as the first guarding 'bot found me. My Skins repelled the damage, but now the clock was running. The whole time I'd been slowing. The laws of drag and aerodynamics weren't subject to the physics my Prometheus's Gift could ignore or break. At the most I was traveling a few hundred mph, but drones were supersonic.
Keeping my posture as aerodynamically perfect as I could was my best defense. Fly baby fly!
More tracks of destruction reached out for me and no few were stopped by my gift from Tash. The upgraded Skins hardened and cushioned the impact of the glancing shots. The others not so much. The red hot poker sensation of being hit made me wobble drunkenly in the air, but single-minded I held my course.
The missile that hit enveloped me in burning fire, even though I knew it'd done no real damage to me. As a matter of fact it helped as my energy absorption thing used it to slag a stream of rail-gun projectiles causing the melted rounds to splash like hot rain instead of hit like deadly hammers.
It still hurt, but my energy thing took most of the sting out of it leaving the cooling metal to fly away in the wind. I was even able to ride the shock wave rather than going out of control.
Then the drone flew right next to me firing both plasma burners. My goggles flared as they vaporized bathed in the inferno. A trick I learned from Doc and his sadistic tests, I willed myself to drink in the energy which helped with the pain. Then I took a allegorical or perhaps a metaphysical mouthful was the best way to describe it.
I squirted it back at the damn thing.
My belched-up plasma ball took it dead center. With a brilliant flash, it exploded!
Again I juggled sucking in the power, staying on course and trying not to run into anything.
More proof they were being directly controlled, additional drones zoomed up, but these didn't shoot at me. They'd seen what happened, and tried a different tactic. Slamming into me, three sandwiched and shoved me towards the snowy landscape not all that far below.
Knowing how to manage my 'power' a little better I 'drank' most of it, but left out just enough. Punching the first machine, my glowing fist sank into it like hitting a soft pillow. Remembering my first encounter with these things, I grabbed what I could by touch, and pulled. With a loud 'pop' it lurched away spewing smoke and sparks to impact into the snowy mountain.
Drone Two got punched in the sensors as hard and as fast as I could. Not being 'energized' meant my fist wasn't glowing and that made it take more effort, but the result was the same. After I'd made an opening, it was grab bag time again. Maybe it didn't blow up, but it just blindly breaking away was good enough for me since the last of the trio could be avoided.
Or so I thought because the drone twirled around in front trying to slow me. When I saw all the 'bots on the ridges above me readying their rail-guns, I knew why. I was being invited to a turkey shoot and I was the turkey!
However, that was the thing about push/ pulling. If you worked your judo right you could get the other guy do all the work for you. Perhaps it was more the way my powers worked than skill, but a quick twist had the drone pushing me in the direction I wanted to go. Plus, since I knew it was going to happen, I kicked off against the 'bot going even faster.
With my fight with the drones, I'd lost track of exactly where I was, but I did see the tall commo tower of a T-Rex tank. That was good enough as I arrowed right for it.
As far as Doc could tell, once I 'ate' the energy, it gave me some temporary benefits like stronger, faster and other things we hadn't been able to nail down yet. The entire 'holding' it meant I glowed with the power and had even learned how to spit it out, like with that plasma ball for short distances. The downside was 'holding' it made getting hit by the energy hurt more plus the more I 'held' the more it hurt.
However there was a downside to 'eating' it too. Once done, it was unavailable for offense or defense. The glowing thing and all the advantages were over. So what if I didn't have oomph to make the frigging thing blow up because they weren't obliging enough to shoot the right stuff at me. I would kick it to bits if I had to!
“Argh” I grunted as my old 'friend' Drone Three rammed into my back.
Its weapon pods snapped out which along with its superior speed had me tapped like a bug on a windshield. The intent was still the same. Make me a sitting duck for the command tank's rail-gun heavy escorts.
Like Hell!
I twisted around like a mad wet cat, tearing into the Drone. All that energy I'd 'drank' had significantly supercharged me. My fingers dug deep into its metal hide as I ripped off an armored plate slinging it aside like a Frisbee.
Unlike Drone Two, I didn't need just to cripple this machine. I needed a shield and a fire-boat all in one. My fury had me half inside my enemy like a shade tree mechanic inside the open hood of an old Ford.
Arcs from its power plant were running all over me, as I tried to 'drink' deep and still multitask my plan while keeping track of my position. There was a lurch as the drone's quantum engine died, but I used my own flight to keep us airborne.
That was about the time the command tank put two and two together. A tsunami of death flew though the snowy night as its escorts went to full auto.
Having one hell of a Slim Picken's moment just like his Major T. J. 'King' Kong, I let out a 'Yea Hah!' as the shot to hell drone and me slammed into the command tank.
Threatened with the drone's wreckage and unfired missiles, the unit fired its own twin main plasma batteries. The explosion, munitions cooking off, and last by but not least me, blew a clear hole in the stormy clouds vaporizing metal, mountain, and mere frozen water with equal disdain.
I woke in a tangled mass of burning pines, my energy charge aura still glowing bright. The mushroom cloud was still climbing into the winter sky making this weird doughnut shape as its great heat burned the colder clouds away.
Golden cleavage was plain visible despite my Skins doing the best they could to re-clothe me. From the now very flat plateau, I hoped the great state of North Carolina wouldn't be too mad at me for taking a couple of inches off the top of one of their mountains.
Climbing to my feet, my whole body was just this side of being unbearable. It felt like an all over, very bad, itchy, burning sunburn. I could deal with it. First order of business was to 'inhale' more of that energy since my footsteps were hissing as they hit the granite of the shortened mountain.
Signs of the destruction were all around. Burning trees laid flattened, facing away from the blast. Twisted and wrecked 'bots littered the mountain slopes. A bizarre volcano lahar like mudflow from the melted snow flowed downward complete with more Sha'leian wreckage.
Couching behind a smoldering limbless 'bot torso, I scoped out the situation while buying time for my Skins to regenerate to the point of providing useful protection again. It wasn’t good. Instead of coming down on one of the ends formed by the flattened triangle of the three Sha'leian landing zones, I'd come down on the one in the center. The end would've let me take the next without the last one able to provided supporting fire. With me in the center I had the worst possible situation where both could shoot at me without fear of hitting the other.
The thought that maybe I'd been herded here entered my mind. At the most I had only seconds before the machines were able to target me again. Then I saw the really bad news.
The torso I was hiding behind had a black drip running down it. Checking my hand, I saw I'd left a black hand print on the wrecked 'bot. Halcyon eyes, however, revealed the whole truth. Like watching a time-lapse film of it rusting, the machine was disintegrating before my eyes.
Wide-eyed, I stared down at my kneeling legs seeing a black pool beginning to form underneath me.
Standing in alarm, I'd only had enough time to cuss before, a belt-sander like road-rash from hell grabbed me in a fist of pain.
“Aw shit!” I cussed. Screw the 'bot. I was melting!
They'd nano-bombed their own site!
Their nano-tech hadn't, in the past, been programmed to attack living tissue, but then again Halcyon wasn't exactly made of living tissue.
Gold dribbled down my arms along with blue streaks from my sapphire hair. An instant trench appeared cut into the mountain's summit by a stream of rail-gun fire as the 'bots searched for me. Stumbling as best as I could off the exposed high ground, I tumbled a short way down the furthest slope from my attackers.
Sure enough more lines were drawn into the new summit from the surrounding peaks. Feeling too much like Frosty the Snowman on a hot summer day. I really had only one choice. If I was wrong, it wouldn't matter much, I would still be dead.
I changed back.
One immediately advantage was with my smaller size, my distressed Skins covered me a little better. That was a good thing. Another was the golden ooze was gone, although it took me a few moment to recognize that the pain was gone. The aftershocks of it had lingered after the fact.
Alive was good, but now I'd lost my biggest advantage. Plus my Skins were still under assault by the nanites. A probing hand found I was bald as a cue ball missing even eyebrows. Strange the things you can worry about during a crisis.
It was still hot enough for me to 'inhale' the energy coming at me. The rocks and slagged parking lot glowed red with heat even to my normal eyes. That actually made me feel better as the power flowed into me.
Logic said it was time to abort. I got one of three, but they had made a serious attempt at killing me. Not knowing how big of an area this 'trap' covered I couldn't risk changing back. Hell, the odds were I couldn't, given the 'cool-down' thing.
On the other hand, there were people depending on me. Plus there was an entire city fighting for its life. I wasn't sure what I could do as Kingfisher, but we would see. Lifting off, I kept to the air, hoping that would keep my Skins in one piece for a little longer. At the very least it helped me move across the difficult terrain.
Somewhere in all the excitement my Q-Box had been either smashed, melted or disassembled. That was why my Skins had turned back to their default black. That was yet another sign my brains had not fully come back online.
It was dark as hell out here, but I made my way as best as I could towards the closest area. I hoped it'd been hit hardest by the blast. Each and every advantage I could get was priceless.
I was really wondering where all the drones were. It was possible they were searching for me further away. It'd been a miracle I hadn't been blown to the next mountain. Also perhaps my power thingie was interfering with their sensors. I was continuing to work on pulling in all the energy I could. Those medical scans of Doc's did fail, so maybe radar and other things would as well. Another item to talk to Doc Schneider about, if I survived.
It didn't take long for nature to take great offense at that explosion from hell. Those damn missiles the drones carry pack a wallop and a dozen of them went off at once. First rain and then ice with snow whipped in turning the night even darker. I kept to the edges of the still glowing hot spots hoping the heat would help hide me from infrared and/or other night-vision systems.
The hissing, popping, and cracks as the surface cooled as the sleet and snow pelted down covering up what little noise I made hovering along. I made short rushes from cover to cover, each time hoping I wasn't seen. Time wasn't on my side. Soon, the Pantheon and Special Forces teams, as well as the Air Force would be making their own attacks.
I was running late and behind schedule.
The thunder in the distance signaled the 3rd Infantry Division had begun its drive to relieve Asheville. The crossing to the other mountain was nerve wracking as I felt driven to take more chances trading safety for speed. The cold was getting to me because my Skins had so many outright holes and thin spots, but I thought the 'melting' had stopped.
I'd just begun working my way up up the slope when the air was full drones flying over. Burying my body in the snow covered rocks and trees, I prayed for them to just go on by. Wondering just what was happening, I hurried to the top.
Peeking though the rocks and trees, I had my answer. There were 18 of them in three neat rows of six. In a low revetment, stacks of missile pods stood ready as they were reloaded by the autofac's worker 'bots.
The timing made sense. These were the machines that'd been harassing the whole area. More than likely they'd just come from shooting up the 3rd Infantry Division and now were here to reload at their forward airfield.
A few hundred feet away the T-Rex class tank sat in another revetment surrounded by its ever present guards. Off to one side partially hidden by all the activity, the autofac had half buried itself looking for raw materials as more new made missiles rolled out the back.
I had a so very evil thought, but the question was did I have enough 'bang' left to do the job? All the while I'd kept some of my energy in my 'mouth.' Just like holding, something in your real mouth, it was uncomfortable after awhile and there was a huge urge to either swallow or spit it out.
I had no idea if it was even in range given how clumsy it was 'spitting' energy at a target. However, if I could pull it off, well, think of an aircraft carrier packed with planes reloading on the deck. It would be glorious!
And it would let me get closer to that T-Rex. I didn't dare hope for more. The other problem was if I was going to do this I had to do it now or the opportunity would be missed.
Going low, I got as close as I dared. Using my finger like a gun, I aimed at one of the conical warheads.
“Bang!” I whispered.
A not so bright ball of light shot from me. There was a bright flash as it impacted then nothing.
“Oh Crap!” I used my flight to keep me on the deck as I backed out fast as every 'bot and drone on the mountain looked at me!
I'd just scooted down the crest of the slope when the first explosion cooked off. It wasn't one huge boom like that last command tank, but a lot of smaller ones. However, that was only relative. Each one of those missiles were powerful enough to kill a tank, but being quantum motor powered, there wasn't any propellant to join the party. Not that it was needed. The whole summit was lit up like an enormous string of firecrackers was going off!
Making myself move, I heard the crashing of 'bots though the trees I'd just left. Stepping up my speed, I did my best not to run into trees or rocks since my belly was scrapping the ground.
Feeling like a submariner, I 'surfaced' up to check the lay of the land. Unlike humans in this situation there was no firefighters or support personnel to help. There were burning drones all over the place and more a few 'bots too. The command unit looked fine, but all its guard 'bots were over where I'd fired my golden 'BB.'
My target was wide open, but I didn't have a damn thing that could hurt it.
Submerging again into underbrush and staying low I silent glided to as close as I could get before committing myself. Racking my brains for a solution all I came up with was the bad and the real bad.
Kingfisher might have powers, but he didn't hold a candle to Halcyon. He, I, was flesh and blood, but she for all of her outrageous appearance was metal and about the toughest thing to kill even Project Prometheus had ever heard of which was saying a whole lot.
The long and short of it, I had to absorb something in order to shoot it back, but trying to do it might kill me. At the very least, I could end up crippled or maimed. What I had in my favor was 'drinking' in as much as I energy as I could earlier, so I was about as strong and fast as I could get. Plus my Skins had made headway in repairing themselves.
I could beat the pants off just about any normal human including those given super-soldier treatments. Kick the ass out of a big bad T-Rex, not so much. Glancing up, the carnage I'd caused had just about run its course and the command tank was getting its act together. It was now or never.
I used my flight to launch myself to my feet running right at the impregnable object.
Both of its main batteries smoothly rotated to bear on me. Without hesitation they shot out arcs of 25,000 degree C plasma closing in to roast me in the crossfire. I used my flight to throw myself underneath the beams while trying to pull all the power from them that I could.
Part of one of the beam just came near my leg, and it folded under me. Crying with the pain, I rolled next to the revetment that protected the tank. I was under the guns. A quick check seemed to say my leg seemed okay, but damn did it hurt.
The protective wall of dirt and rocks shifted as the big machine pivoted on its tracks. It was going after me the old fashion way, crush me under its tracks. Rolling to the side, I aimed at the top of the tall commo tower amidships.
My plasma ball zapped the sphere containing its transmitter. I was hoping if I disabled its command and control, it would be less able to send for and get help.
“Crap!” I was pelted with razor sharp shards as a 'bot's rail-gun missed by inches, but only because I was too close to the tank for a clean shot.
I limped, ran, flew to the other side of the tank only to be sideswiped by its fender as it reversed direction.
Knocked back to the ground, I fired at the round dome of a secondary communications array on top the nearest turret.
It popped like a soap bubble, but I found myself looking down the wrong end of a plasma burner's emitter.
“Shit!” I hissed, rolling towards the tank again to the dubious safety of being under-the-guns. There the tank's weapons couldn't depress enough to target me.
The near miss of the blast had me again patting out flames that weren't there. It sure felt like I was on fire. However, that meant my mojo was recharged again.
A 'bot skidded around the corner, as the tank sped away trying for separation. I popped a plasma ball at the 'bot and then one at the retreating tank's last secondary commo unit.
Proud of myself, I was going to dive for the safety of the revetment when it disappeared in a salvo of rail-gun projectiles. I had just enough time to see the tank's rear turret swing at me. I tumbled and fell behind the 'bot I'd just shot. The plasma washed over its carcass making my Skins hiss from the heat.
“Drink it in.” I muttered to myself past the pain. The withering heat had the 'bot's metal hide that was as tough as any armored vehicle, melting like an icicle being hit by a blowtorch.
My flight pushed me out of the way of the slagged machine. Using all my remaining energy I'd built up I fired a sustained plasma blast right into its ass.
It rolled forward a few more paces before lurching to a stop.
“Thank Gawd!” I muttered, trying to get to my feet before I got attacked again. I took one long moment to draw as much energy as I could from the ruined 'bot I'd covered behind. That was as much time as I dared.
Flying only inches from the ground, I departed, only one more to go. Letting my flight carry my weary body, I slipped away into the darkness. Using the mountain's slope, gravity sped me towards my last objective and not a moment too soon. Though the tilted and abused pine trees I saw the command tank's tall tower, with its ruined commo dome, collapse on itself.
Nanites!
This time I'd gotten out fast enough. However, just to be certain I desperately piled on the speed, whipping around and though the trees with reckless abandon. I might run into a tree, but the threat behind me would absolutely damage my Skins which was the only thing helping keep me alive.
I ended up at the mountain's base more or less in one piece, but tired, so very sore, and weary beyond belief. Within me I felt all that energy I'd 'eaten' but it was a little like the alertness that came with caffeine. It came from outside of me, propping me up. Sure I was awake, but the exhaustion was as much mental as physical.
It was like feeding a sleepy drunk coffee. You got an awake drunk.
Huddled on a rock, I took the time which I didn't have to spare to take a deep breath. Doing the best I could to clear my heart and soul as well as my mind, I gathered my second wind or maybe it was the third. I'd lost count.
I thought of Sheila with her no nonsense smile as she forced me to make a promise I'd known then that I might not be able to keep. The distant thunder of the Battle for Asheville gave me my bearings. With as much as will I had left, I lifted off flying Nap of Earth for my last objective. I had promises to keep.
Actually it wasn't hard finding the right mountain. The Air Force planes and Army artillery had thrown one hell of a hammer and anvil style attack at the last redoubt. Special Forces teams had carefully aimed throwaway laser designators at every target they could spot.
Sure the second those lasers had remotely flashed on, the Sha'leian 'bots responded. But this wasn't the SF teams first rodeo if you know what I mean. The lasers were placed so they weren't easy targets and a great many missiles, shells, and anything else they could throw, were thundering down our invaders' throat. Perhaps the kitchen sink didn't make it, but everything else sure did.
The T-Rex, however, demonstrated just why it was so formidable. Targets were identified and assigned a priority. Then the 'bots and drones were assigned their targets. Hundreds, if not thousands if counting the sub-munitions, of weapons filled the air. Then they began to disappear in a careful calculated orchestra of destruction. Rail-guns engaged first with plasma burners taking out the leakers.
Not every missile was stopped, nor did the tank's forces escape causalities, but the mighty wave of destruction was blunted. What it did do was cut off and isolate the rest of the Sha'leian forces still in Asheville. Those units had lost their command and control due to me. Now without the coordinated support that last tank could've provided, those 'bots, now dependent only on their own programming, got hit in the rear by the Pantheon Teams.
That is if the plan was working.
From what I could see it was … more or less. The air strikes and artillery were supposed to have taken out the uncoordinated 'bots of all three strongholds after I'd disabled their command units. Instead, that massive hammer had just the one remaining intact site since the Sha'leians had nano-bombed their own forces after I'd trashed those other two tanks.
In a way, it made sense. One, they had found my weakness, and two it kept us from recovering any equipment. Three, not all of their units in the 'bombed' area had fallen to the nanites making me think they did have some kind of Identify Friend or Foe, IFF, system, but the nanites weren't very discriminating. It only mostly worked.
It also proved the SF guys were on the ball and were able to adapt and improvise to the changing situation. I hadn't run across any of them, but then again they knew better than to get this close. It was only clueless me that was charging into the guns.
However, this was my chance to get close to that last tank. That is if I didn't get nailed by friendly fire. There were smoldering and smoking fragments of shells, missiles and 'bots all over the place. I'd no intention of using my legs, keeping to the air not only because it was easier, but because of all the sub-munitions and other unexploded ordinance all over the mountain now.
I was wondering just how long I could keep the flying thing going, but one, I wasn't flying high or fast. I was low and slow, using it to speed me faster than I could low-crawl which really wasn't very speedy at all. It was possible it was a function of all that energy I'd 'drank,' an external manifestation of the energy.
No complaints from me since it let me move relatively quickly across some very rough, snow covered territory. Not that unexploded bombs, snow storms, invading aliens were the only problems. The still exploding ones dropping, not only on the ground, but detonating in the tree tops.
By the time I'd reached this summit, I was as cautious as a mouse. Really wishing I really was submarine, complete with periscope, I craned one eye over the edge. There was at least 50 'bots that still stood among the blasted remains of about ten. Not a single Drone was to be seen, nor any handy stockpiles of ordinance for me to be creative. Of course the T-Rex was still intact as was the autofac.
As I watched the automated factory's dedicated worker 'bots shoveled the pieces/parts of their dearly departed comrades in one end, while another brand new war machine rolled out the other side.
Ducking back down to the safety of the trees, I slid around to the closest point to the tank. Once again I wasn't sure what I was going to do once I got there, but my window to do anything at all was closing. The attacking bombs and shells were slacking off. It didn't take a genius to figure out where this group's drones were at.
Roughly, I figured I had enough oomph to kill a 'bot, or maybe destroy the tank's comm systems, but not enough to just blow the damn thing to hell. Plus the 'bots were spread out as to catch the incoming munitions in their vicious crossfire. At the very least, trying to attack the tank directly would put me in the cross-hairs of at a minimum of ten of them.
Okay, it was do or die time.
Making sure of the path I would have to take to my objective, I took a deep breath. Please 'cool down' be over, I prayed. Really wishing I had my Q-Box, I reached for the feel, the sensations, of how it was to change. It was one of those damn frustrating nebulous things like trying to hold a handful of sand or not thinking of a given color. It was just out of reach like I could touch it with the tips of my fingers, but couldn't grab it to bring the desired change to me.
Gritting my teeth, I opened my eyes. It was still too damn soon. Looking up, I wondered what hell was I going to do now. That's when I noticed the chute in the tree above me slowly twisting in the wind.
In of itself that wasn't a bad thing. The large coffee can like sub-munition that was no doubt still live most definitely was. SADARM stood for Sense and Destroy Armor and housed a small radar unit and other sensors to help find large metal vehicles like armored vehicle or 'bots. When it found one, the just over three pounds of explosives would fire an explosively formed penetrator.
If it couldn't find a target, it would self-destruct upon reaching the ground. This one hadn't done either one yet. Looking around, there were other SADARM's that had also failed to complete their journeys.
My breath froze in my chest. Talk about a very deadly decorated Christmas tree.
I began moving out from under the tree of death, when I had a thought. Those things had failed to find their targets, but what if I was to help them?
That was really, really stupid. I remember a drill sergeant saying if you did something stupid and lived, it was still stupid and don't do it again.
The damn things could go off at anytime, and even if it didn't, I would have to loft them into the air somehow without getting myself shot to pieces by all those guns just a few feet up the slope.
Why the hell why not?
Careful not to be seen or set off the damn things I fished the chutes out of the trees. I got three of them tied to together using the parachute cord from one. I kept one of the chutes attached to act like a kite's tail. Then I flew down a ways to give me time to accelerate to full speed. Very deliberately, I 'ate' that last bit of energy, I'd been holding. This was going to take all the strength and speed I could get.
“I love you Sheila.” The whisper was lost in the falling snow as I flew hell bent for leather for the crest.
It wasn't anywhere close the 200 mph plus of my insertion. With my burden, I was about as aerodynamic as a swallow carrying a coconut. Even still my eyes burned in the cold without any protection from the freezing air. Like a skier taking a jump I soared over the edge ever mindful of the thin deadly line. Too high and I would be a target for all the 'bots, but too low and and I risked my deadly Christmas gift going off early.
Luck was in my favor, the 'bots were looking up prepared for threats from above. I zoomed between two so close I could've touched one. Their guns swiveled to track me as I poured on the coal feeling like a fat pig with the load I was carrying.
“Stay on target.” I whispered as the tank became aware of me and both fore and aft turrets sought me.
Rolling on my back, I heaved my jury-rigged bomb into the air as high as I could.
At first I thought I'd screwed up big time. It wasn't high enough so the damn chute would fill which would orient the sensors in the proper direction so it would explode. Then the chute and cords caught on the comm tower, swinging up in a high arc as it stopped.
All the guns from hell were pointed at me, but they held fire since their own units would be in the crossfire. Too late Mr. Tank realized that it should've been targeting the bomb hanging from its tower.
Close to ten pounds of shaped charges turned three sheets of copper penetrators into plasma driving down into its top deck from a distance of only a few feet.
Meanwhile I'd gone back to being the perfect human arrow flying as fast as I could. It was strange that I knew I had to be streaking along at better than a 100 mph, but damn it felt like I was just floating along as all those damn 'bots tracked me. I suspected I'd at least had hurt the freaking thing when the 'bots in front of me broke formation.
Mr. T-Rex had stopped giving orders.
Things got hectic as I cleared the mountain's summit and dove down the slope. I went from flying in a snow storm to flying in one made of metal, plasma and exploding trees. At some point either I got hit or ran into something. I'd no idea of what, but it sure felt like I busted several somethings in a couple places as I'd finally tumbled and bounced to a stop.
To paraphrase Colonel Austin, a TV character from my childhood, “I'm breaking up. I'm breaking up!”
It was crystal clear I wasn't going anywhere. Even thinking about moving hurt. I decided this was a good place to rest for a spell.
Flashes of light and more explosions from above suggested the good guys were taking advantage of the opening I'd given them.
“Go get'em fellas.” I cheered them on being cautious not to move nothing. It didn't quite hurt to breath, but it sure didn't feel good.
My mood fell as a 'bot crashed though the trees in a kind of running jump. You never see them doing that sort of thing. It was just more proof that the Sha'leians were directly controlling at least some of their machines. Not that I would be telling anyone. It had seen me.
“Well shit.” I smiled grimly as its guns snapped into firing position.
I made my arm move meaning to give the sonofabitch the 'finger,' but something made me change my mind.
Bringing my open palm over my chest, despite the pain, I gave it the Sha'leian salute.
A so very long second passed followed by another.
With smooth precision the guns retracted. Then it bought up its own arm up returning the honorific.
Stepping back, it waited as a drone came and picked it up. This was the first I'd seen them to the air-mobile thing. Together the two flew upwards into the lightening clouds which signaled morning had finally arrived.
“Happy New Year.” I whispered as both machines were lost from sight.
Epilogue
As efficiently as any robot Lapis Lazuli dusted the last of the Master's library, the long lighted table. The décor could've come out of any old movie featuring a college or university up to and including the card catalog cabinet. It lacked only in size for all that it was far larger than most private collections.
Having the time to think and index decades of memories, she thought it was because he sought as familiar and as comfortable surroundings as possible. Perhaps going back to a time before he broke and went insane.
Certainly he treated her and the other automata on occasion like staff, students, or colleagues for all he never loosened his control one iota. It was an affection like talking to any 'thing.'
Even she was the same. The other automata were not her sisters or even fellow prisoners. You had to have interactions to form relationships. They were mostly empty shells given a semblance of life by ripping that required vital spark from the people they had once been and binding it into lifeless statues.
Lapis Lazuli'a memory of those times was full of holes, but she hadn't been a saint. That person had tried to do the best they could, but like all humans, they'd fallen short. Those same memories suggested that others of the automata had been far worse than simply having feet of clay. They had embraced that darkness.
However, none of them held a candle to the man who'd captured and tortured them sacrificing their humanity for the sake of a revenge that had lasted over 70 years. He hadn't just embraced that blackness that lay within every human. The Master had become one with it reveling in forbidden knowledge, insane even before grasping such that would break any man.
She knew he had something planned that would result in a tremendous catastrophe. He had spoken of wrath he would bring down upon his enemies. The thought that so many that he so hated and despised were escaping him by dying of old age drove him over lines even the crazed avoided. Even they wanted to live.
Another but significant factor was the few who had cheated both justice and death. Not many of the old Nazi Ubermensch survived, but those that did were the smartest and most cunning of them all. Of all the deeds she been forced to do by the Master, fighting those, who despite their fair faces were monstrosities, were things she didn't regret.
At this very moment, he was studying the materials he had used her and the others to gather. Pieces of ancient writings in stone; age old accounts of others research; odds and ends they had dug up from buried cities the rest of the modern world didn't even know existed, as well other parts to a puzzle he was working on solving.
No matter how mad he might be now or his age, the Master had always been a brilliant researcher. Additionally, no one could underestimate the effects of the marvelous, taboo and dark things he'd seen, done, and knew upon his mind and body. She wondered just how human he still was after all was said and done.
He was on the trail of some long hidden mystery. Given the care which that'd been spent to erase all clues of its existence, that boded ill for all. She had no doubts he would ferret out the secret one fragment at a time until he had it all.
That was what he did. Just like he'd uncovered the riddle of how to make not half-shaped golems, but full fledged automata like her. The world might have called him the Master of Golems, because of his Jewish ancestry, but she and the others were no more golems than a firecracker was a nuclear bomb.
From his craftsman father and his own demented intellect, the Master had sculpted not just five sculptures with the form of beautiful women, but many. Some were flawed and had been place in storage or melted back down. Others were replacements for those lost in his lust for revenge on an evil regime that'd been defeated more than a half century before.
No, the Master's ego would never settle for just an unfinished thing that was a golem. Just as his creations had to be perfect, so did his retaliation. She feared that the world would, could, not survive what he sought to unleash.
She had some measure of freedom, but could not go against any of his direct commands. The helpless feeling knowing what he was doing, but being unable to oppose him was part of the two edged sword of being aware again.
At the least, she'd saved the life of one hero. She knew the Master had intended for her to kill Grey Wolf. Thankfully, the hero had kept that low profile she'd suggested saving both of them from the Master's retaliation if he ever found out.
Straightening the desk, Lapis Lazuli left the library precisely as the Master ordered it. In the hallway the grandfather clock chimed midnight. A New Year had begun, but unless she could find a way it may very well be the last.
There was a way. There had to be. She just had to find it. At least she had time to think about a solution. Like a robot she went on to her next housekeeping task. Well almost, she kept her smile to herself. The Library was normally cleaned last, but this time since the Master was in the 'working' room downstairs, she'd left the starting the fire in the sitting room instead for her final duty.
Perhaps it was only a little rebellion, but the more loopholes she could find in his commandments the sooner this rebel could set a fire he would never forget.
Grey stared at the screen as the file copy progress bar edged towards complete. While not a computer savvy hacker, he knew those who were. His 'friend' had gotten him in the desired database by sneaking in though some kind cyberspace backdoor. It also helped that being New Years Eve most everyone was out counting down the last minutes of the old year.
The Protector Bureau guarded its archives more closely than even Ft. Knox. Even with all the help, Grey knew he would only have a short time to do his search. Before hand he'd listed all of his questions, and possible follow ups.
He'd tracked down some previously unknown information about Golem Master and everything the Bureau had on his golems. The sections he was very interested in included those which had any signs of the previous personalities of the ones killed to make those foul things ever been seen, but no, none at all. Those who had died at Golem Master's hands were believed to be just that, dead.
Lapis Lazuli was the oldest of the current group and the most powerful. However the most likely donor had probably only been a 'B' plus rated hero by the name of Flashback. He had energy absorption and reflection powers with enough of the kinetic variety as well to let him fly and project a decent if not powerful force-field.
Flashback was active for about ten years before disappearing and Lapis Lazuli appeared. From the very beginning the merger of Flashback into a golem demonstrated the sum was much greater than the parts. There was a synergy that amplified the abilities of both forms into a very powerful single creation.
Grey saved those details for later, looking deeper at Flashback. Based on missing person reports and the hero's general description, it hadn't been all that difficult to backtrack to his most probable identity.
“Craig Elder, last seen in 1988.” He read. “Age 28, audio-video technician, film maker and employee of WNOK TV Columbia, SC.
The copy progress bar vanished, and he wasted no time ejecting the flash drive. Five minutes later his was just another car in late night holiday traffic. The radio busted out in cheers as the clock stuck mid-night.
Grey sighed thinking of all the pain the person named Craig Elder had somehow withstood for decades. Yet, there was still enough of that person left to defy the commands of a monster. There was always hope and courage.
“Happy New Year.” He wished, as the fireworks bloomed in the winter's night sky.
Just what do you give a bunch of invading aliens for Valentine's?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Dust rained down on the makeshift briefing table. Pantheon Team Epsilon, such as it was, were assembled around it as they gave General 'Big Jake' Morris a quick and dirty debrief.
“Our plan of foxing them into releasing nanotech on their own position worked well.” Our team commander, Athena, reported. “Kingfisher still hasn't fully recovered from his injuries, but after Asheville the Sha'leians are very skittish when they see Halcyon show up. That's was a good enough diversion to let the rest of us get into position and take out that T-Rex.
She gave the me the nod to begin.
“We had guessed that once they knew Halcyon could transform to avoid their nanite bombardment.” I continued. “That they would use some kind of mass attack to take care of that problem. This orbital strike is using lesser projectiles than the nuke sized ones we've seen before.”
Another boom had more dust raining down upon us, making the light hanging from the ceiling swing. It was a good thing this bunker was built deep into the Appalachian bedrock. Tunnel Rat did good work. His Gift from Prometheus was only moderately useful in direct combat, but his being able to shape and dig tunnels was priceless. In only minutes, he'd excavated an entire bunker.
“It was little close, but a good percentage of their 'bots dropped from the friendly fire of their Nano-bombardment. What was left, Team Epsilon was able to steamroller along with help of precision missile and artillery support from the Army and Air Force.” I reported.
“This beachhead attempt is finished.” I kept my sigh away. “However, this little trick won't work again. I'm thinking that this drop was really just a recon in force.”
“I agree.” Athena, my team leader, spoke. “It's a good bet this was just a probe to confirm Halcyon's location.”
General Morris nodded and dismissed us as he turned his attention to the clean up.
Tired and exhausted from the mission, Athena lead us to the way out. She and most the rest of my team were sucking down Blue Soylent from the toothpaste like containers someone had come up with. Many Pantheon members' gifts took a huge amount of energy. Taking in enough calories to power it was a challenge these days with food being so hard to come by. The stuff may suck as far as taste goes, but it filled a need. Personally it reminded me of my childhood, watching, when we really had a space program, astronauts 'eating' their food much the same way. That began a thought, but it got cut off as Athena took my arm.
“Let's get you back to your chair.” She wasn't going to take no for an answer.
“Do I have to?” I didn't try to hide my sigh this time.
“Yes, you do.” Her smile wasn't forced or false.
This whole thing had surprised me with us becoming something closer than friends, comrades in battle.
My assigned medic, Corporal Morgan Sloan had the damn torture device ready. It was a pain to maneuver seven feet of Halcyon into a chair more designed for five feet eight of Craig Elder, Kingfisher, but I'd had lots of practice.
Transforming, I winced, as all the aches and pains of my still healing injuries hit me.
A little less than four weeks had passed since the Battle of Asheville. Broken legs, arms, ribs needed from eight to twelve weeks to heal up. While I'd made great strides in healing up, I still had a long ways to go. Doc Schneider's estimate was I should be up and about in another two weeks or so. That was still twice as fast someone without Prometheus's Gift would heal, but it wasn't any fun at all.
Athena still jokes that it hadn't been hard finding me after the battle. All you had to do was follow the path of destruction. They probably had a point that I should've died, but all that energy I'd sucked up had given my body what it needed to hang on till help arrived.
Hell, my Halcyon form hadn't been in any too great of shape either. The first thing Doc wanted when I regained consciousness was for me to change into her. He wanted to test a theory that I would magically shed all my injuries as I changed back from one form to another.
This time he'd been wrong. She appeared just as she'd left looking like a candle that'd been left in a hot car. Those damn nanites had done one hell of a job on me. On the other hand, I'd self-repaired from that half-melted state in a handful of minutes even if it did itch like crazy. Even that sapphire blue hair of mine regrew itself.
No, the problem started when I changed back to the real me, Craig Elder. Okay, the almost real me now, Kingfisher. I was still broken all to pieces and all the casts had to be redone. Doc with another of his demented plans came up with a way to help. Since as Kingfisher, I also had that energy thing, I could translate that into a kind of regeneration by 'drinking' the power. The sticking point was I had to be conscious and concentrating to make that work.
That was where the chair came from. It was designed to support and allow me to go from Halcyon to Kingfisher without needing me to see a doctor each time. The damn thing constantly hit me with low current shocks to feed that energy absorption thing to help me heal.
It was a two edged sword.
As Halcyon I was just fine, even if I was a seven foot tall, golden, pornographic living statue. Unfortunately, Kingfisher needed to sit in that freaking torture chair so it could accelerate my mending. You try sitting for hours on end as you're being shocked while half busted to pieces.
However, I did try not to whine too much. The 82nd Airborne took their worst losses since WWII and the 218th heavy brigade was shattered. There were a whole lot of grieving families and that wasn't counting the city of Asheville being a battle zone. The total number of dead might never be known.
The big thing was, we had stopped them.
The Sha'leians promptly went and hit San Diego and Tijuana.
Landing in the mountains to the east of the city, they had put down and had stayed down. The aliens had their beachhead despite all the USA could do. Just to show it wasn't a fluke they went on to do the same thing in Spain, Ukraine, the Congo and India. The Germans had smacked down the attempt on them flat, as had Brazil.
Pantheon Teams were in the forefront of the defense of Los Angeles, as well as assisting Mexico with protecting Mexicali. Our neighbors South of the Border were having a hell of time since, before the invasion, they didn't anything that could rightly be called a main battle tank.
Their French built light tanks and Panhard armored cars carrying a 90mm main gun had put up a tough fight, but the alien 'bots and drones had taken a horrible toll on them. Things had gotten so bad that, when talk of nuking the alien fortress where once San Diego and Tijuana had stood, protests had grown very quiet.
With the autofacs in the San-Tijuana Fortress, their forces on the ground had grown to an estimated Ten T-Rex Command Tanks with a thousand 'bots and drones. Recon units daring to get close enough, reported worker 'bots collecting abandoned cars and trucks and feeding them into the factories in a constant stream. Best guesses said those numbers would double in week.
That's taking into account the expected Sha'leian losses on their advance to to LA. The Battle for Oceanside was one hell of a bloody affair, and one which us, humanity, had lost. Right now just about every piece of ordinance, and persons able to carry them, were on their way to the City of Angels.
News from overseas said that the situation was much the same in Spain. Just about every damn tank in the European Union was heading to Bilbao. The Basque had fought like hell, but courage don't make up for not having the tools and weapons to do the job.
The Germans just maybe had the right tools. Using the alien shotgun like plasma burners, the Brits had refitted them into usable plasma cannons. They had more than triple their old range, making them a very practical medium range weapon system. The cannons lacked the ability of rail-guns to strike targets damn near in orbit, but with the rugged territory the Sha'leians were favoring lately, that kind of reach wasn't needed.
What the German had done was, while everyone else was working on a fighter-bomber using the alien technology, they had designed a whole new tank that had a pair of heavily modified quantum drives packed into it.
Named the Griffin, after a legendary half-eagle half-lion creature, it continued on with the German tradition of naming their tanks after large cats.
Yes, the damn thing could fly!
Not well, and not fast, but it could go anywhere. From what we could gather it performance was rather like a 1960's helicopter. Its advantages were clear cut. With the plasma cannon and fusion power plants, it never runs out of ammunition and only needed good old H2O for fuel.
Perhaps in some parts of the world that might be a problem, but certainty not in Europe. That meant a good chance the Balboa beachhead could be lanced. The Ukraine was more problematic, but given the urgency it looked as if Russia would come to their assistance. That was important because it seemed they were developing their own version of the German Griffin. Being Russian details were being kept close to their chests, but it was still good news.
India was working with China since the Aliens had set down almost right in the middle of a troubled area both countries claimed as their own. The area was rugged enough that getting forces there was a bitch and a half, but neither one was taking this lightly. The thinking was that India would offer up the disputed territory which they really didn’t want anyways for the help.
The Congo, including both capitol cities of the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the Republic of the Congo Kinshasa and Brazzaville was a different story. Being right across a river from each other, I suppose the two cities were too much of a temptation for aliens. The Sha'leians were virtually unopposed and, while a UN lead force from Nigeria, Ethiopia, Kenya, Egypt, South Africa and others were trying to get their act together and get forces to the scene, the alien autofacs were working full time at increasing their numbers.
A large part of the problem was trying to get permission to move their forces though other counties just so they could get to the battle. There was just too much distrust for that to come easily in a place where most people still identified themselves by the tribes they belonged to, rather than a country.
A very small glimmer of hope had appeared in the form of a Project Rebirth ex-military general. While in active service with the Marines, General 'Hammer' Hobbs had more than one 'disagreement' with the politicians and bureaucrats in charge. He was, however, very respected by our allies and beloved by the men who followed him. Hammer Hobbs had proved on more than one occasion he wasn't afraid to lead from the front.
Unable to regain his commission, despite getting his youth back, he'd instead offered his services to the UN. The General Secretary had immediately taken him up on his offer, over the protests of two of the five permanent members of the Security Council.
China and the United States had protested, but all ten of the non-permanent members had agreed with with the General Secretary.
In theory Hammer was only the UN's military adviser to their Alien Invasion Crisis Committee. However, in reality he was the Chief of the UN's military arm. He was the one doing his best to coordinate the entire world's efforts, instead of everyone looking after their own interests.
Of course the United States and China made it harder when they refused to participate, but the United Nations Military Commission was getting results. The joke was UNMC really stood for the UN Marine Corps, but let's face it. There are worst role-models out there.
Hammer was the one that got Russia moving into the Ukraine and was behind the African force trying to relieve the Congo. His secret was recruiting other military professionals that were respected in their part of the world, as his deputies. So while he might be mistrusted because he was American, the people who worked for him weren't and were able to get past that.
Hell, the United States objecting to the UNMC could even be helping Hammer's credentials. The thing was we, the Earth, were beginning to finally pull together. That mass nuke strike, Operation Nutcracker, just before Christmas, was the first sign, and this was another. The bad news was that it just might be too late to make a difference.
What was left of the 40th Infantry Army National Guard and the 1st Marine Divisions after a month of combat was on the front lines. The Army's 1st Armored Division had joined it and others were on the way. As a matter of fact, any unit that was remotely combat effective was headed west.
That left the rest of the country just a little bare. Pantheon Team Epsilon had taken the most suitable, read that as 'most likely to survive,' candidates from the training teams, Alpha and Beta, for OJT, On the Job Training. That was the sole team defending the Eastern USA. That included me with my 'walking' wounded status.
The bombardment eased up and I could see everyone visibly relax. Sighing, I gave Cpl. Sloan the nod to 'hit' me. The jolt was not pleasant, but I sucked it up. Come on, I mentally urged myself, HEAL!
Athena kinda winced, seeing my discomfort. Anyone else would be doing the 220 volt dance. The insulated guardrails kept anyone from getting too close and getting some of what I was getting. Trust me. They wouldn't like it!
I let the medic do his job and push me along. Just two more weeks of this, Doc had promised. I just prayed that he was right. Now, however, it was time to go home.
MacDill AFB
Shelia's enthusiastic hug didn't fool me. She was still more than a little mad at me for my suicide run into the Asheville mountains. Maybe peeved was a better word, but I was not forgiven, not yet.
I scared her half to death the first time she saw me mostly encased in plaster and with tubes in every exit and entry. That sort of thing is not easy to get over, but I do understand. If she was in a similar situation, I would be going nuts too.
At least I was able to step off the plane as Halcyon. This wouldn't last all that long before I was back in the Chair again, but I would enjoy my 'break-time' while I could.
However, we didn't have a lot of time for reunions. Dean, and our meetings with our Sha'leian friends, had caught the attention of the high mucky-mucks. The Intell Center had generated useful data for the first time, as well as establishing some kind of rapport. For that matter, we had given warning, for what little good it did, for the Christmas attack on Asheville.
Though the same channels as before, Dean, who was still talking with Tash, reported they had an interest in meeting again, curious this time about Valentines Day. This time we weren't going to be able to get away with doing a 'get to know you' dinner unnoticed.
I really dreaded the coming meeting on the subject. Unfortunately it was with good cause.
“Excuse me, Sir.” I spoke as respectfully as I could to the three star general. “Even if you do succeed in killing them, you accomplish nothing, but destroying what little credibility we have with this contact.
“At best we're talking about two, maybe four, members of their crew.” Explaining, I kept my voice even and as emotionless as I could. Calling Lieutenant Generals stupid idiots usually didn't do much except land you in the stockade or worse.
“At our best guess, after going over everything we can find in the material they themselves have given us,” I continued. Being hurt had given me plenty of time to explore the Sha'leian library icon on my tablet. “They have a crew of between one and two hundred. Losing even four members is not going to make them stop and go home. Capturing them might be even worse, from a certain stand point, since they would either launch a kinetic strike or drop a rescue mission on wherever they were being held.
“Additionally there is the matter of possible hostages.” Dean spoke up. “There are, at a minimum, several hundred thousand people still alive in their San-Tijuana Fortress. We know there are captives and, from reconnaissance, they appear to be decently treated. If we do as you suggest, that could change.”
Honestly, the row of Big Brass sitting before us was intimidating as hell. The freaking Secretary of State himself, about half the Joint Chiefs, and a few Three Letter Agencies' representatives. However the most, at least to me, was a certain UN 'consultant' by the name of 'Hammer' Hobbs.
He'd been invited to 'sit in' although he had no official representation. The UN had always been aware of our 'meetings' since it was their communications channels we'd been using. It was kinda hard to exclude them.
“What do ya'll suggest?” His soft accent was deceptive. He might sound like he's being polite, but there was plenty of steel behind that soft southern courtesy.
“As much as I know everyone wants to make the most of what we've done.” Shelia took her turn bearding the lions. “Sergeant Elder is correct that any type of direct confrontation with their 'landing party' will not be advantageous. If anything, having those communications is even more important since they have taken, and are holding, not only territory, but citizens of several countries.
“We need to build on that as best as we can.” She was doing her best to be diplomatic, I could tell. “The last thing we want to do is to appear untrustworthy or duplicitous. So far both parties have kept their word. Let's not be the ones to break, even these small temporary truces.
“Our team has had a number of successes.” Sheila implored. “Please let us continue.”
While they mulled over her statement, I added what I hoped would close our argument.
“Sirs,” I began. “The primary threat is in orbit. Threatening what we're doing won't help take that ship down, nor deal with their beachheads, nor their base on the Moon.”
“That's true.” The Hammer spoke again although he was officially just an observer. “They've knocked down our missiles. Our fighters have been shot down without getting close. What ships that we've cobbled together have been blasted to atoms, so do you have any suggestions, Sergeant Elder?” The Marine looked me in the eyes.
It was easy to see how he got his reputation as a leader. His eyes dared me to go where nobody sane would ever consider going.
“You have me, Sir.” I could only claim insanity. Maybe it was that half-formed idea that had begun while watching my team chow down on Soylent Blue in 'space' rations like tubes. “Halcyon has flight and our Skins are good as short term spacesuits. Their energy and missile weapons are ineffective against me. Give me the chance, sir, and I'll board the bastards!”
“No.” Spoke Atlas, the senior Pantheon trooper at the table. “The Navy, and Air Force have had their shot. If its the Army and Marines turn, let's do it right. We pull the best people we got and hammer out a solid plan. Then we go and kick their asses back to where they come from.”
“I agree.” General Hobbs gave the grim grin that earned him his nickname. “But no more of this service or that nation trying to prove who has the biggest whazoo. We, planet Earth, put every damn thing we have on the table and take our damn world back!”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Sheila was more than mad at me.
“That a lot desperate people were going to force us to screw up the one decent contact we have with the Sha'leians.” I sighed. “Telling them why it was a bad idea may or may not have worked. Giving them another option did, and just maybe the right man heard what we had to say.”
“I'm with her.” My team leader said from behind us. “Pantheon has a reputation for being crazy, but you take it to an entirely new level. Are you really serious about boarding their ship?”
“Yes,” I replied, “We have to, because, like one of our reports said, they probably have other groups on the way. The odds are there is at least another warship like theirs with them and we need the intelligence, as well as the ship itself. to fight them.”
“You're going to get yourself killed!” Shelia glared at me. “Didn't Asheville teach you anything? Do you have any idea of how much it hurts me to see you climb into that damn Electric Chair, knowing anyone else would be electrocuted?”
“You should listen to her.” Athena advised. “As tough as you are, you're not Superman. You charged the guns and paid the price once, but you got lucky and lived. That won't happen again.”
“That's why we won't be doing it that way.” Atlas stated joining the conversation. “We will plan this as a team and execute it as a team.”
“Excuse me.” He apologized to Shelia. “But it is no secret we are losing this War. For us to have any chance of winning, of surviving, we have to be audacious.
“Even if they don't intend on genocide.” He gave us all long stares, “I'm not going to not going to stand by and let mankind become second class citizens on our own planet.”
He then turned to Shelia.
“I promise you that if there is anyway possible I will bring this idiot home.” It was then my turn to face his wrath. “Haven't you learned anything? Geez, never volunteer, you dummy!”
Atlas walked away, leaving Athena chuckling in his wake.
“Go on you two.” She commanded. “Work this out. We're going to need both of you at your very best. No one knows the Tweeties like your Intell Group. If this has a chance of working its going to need to address every single possibility and issue.”
“Come on!” Shelia grabbed my arm. “We need some privacy.”
I won't say our 'talk' was make-up sex, but it wasn't just talking either. It was hard to remember sometimes she was a part of that 'Greatest Generation' thing that knew all too well about hardship and self-sacrifice. It wasn't quite the Spartan thing of 'Come back, with your shield or on it,' but it was close.
She'd lost her father to D-Day and a Uncle on the black sands of Iwo Jima. A cousin had fought on the frozen hills of Korea and her late husband had been an 'adviser' in a faraway, unnamed jungle. A nephew had fallen in Desert Storm, and she'd lost a daughter and granddaughters during the bombardment of Pittsburgh.
No, she knew all too well about sacrifice.
We both got more than a little teary, but I think we made as much peace with each other as we could.
Okay, maybe there was some sex involved.
Our first planning session was more of a brawl than it was anything constructive. Yes, Atlas was with us, but the Army dug in its heels, saying they needed every Pantheon Team and more besides to defend Los Angeles.
When we presented our choices for the strike teams, we got accused of headhunting the most effective members and destroying those teams' cohesiveness. That is despite a plan we presented to reorganize those teams affected to minimize any problems.
The Air Force just about had a cow over us including every single one of their top secret Copperhead Space Fighters, which no one was suppose to even know about. If they were upset, the Navy had babies over not only their three remaining SSBNs with ballistic missiles being included, but of the eleven that had emptied their loads and were feverishly being refitted as chop-shop spacecraft.
And if our country's military was having a problem, our 'allies' were worse.
China
“General, I realize that your country doesn't trust the United States, or for that matter any of the Western Powers. However, unless your 'candidates' can match or exceed the currently assigned troopers, they will not be included as part of the assault force.” Hammer Hobbs stared down the People's Army General.
Russia
“Admiral Rostok,” The UN representative sighed. “I can assure you that yes, every one of your space vessels will be needed and will be matched by an equal number, not just from NATO, but specifically from the United States.
“Yes, that does include the five converted 'inactive' LA class SSNs that did not take place in the last engagement.”
Assembly of African nations
“We are well aware of the history of conflicts in this region.” The French diplomat stated, as the UN's General Secretary looked on. “However, for the good of not just your own countries, or the continent, but of the whole world, compromises must be made. The UN will guarantee that forces moving though your countries will abide by strict measures of conduct.
“That also means that any forces that do misbehave will be levied fines and other possible actions.” He looked at all the delegates. “With the rich resources of the Congo providing materials for their factories it will not take long before you are all threatened. Already Luanda, Libreville and other cities near to Brazzaville and Kinshasa are reporting Sha'leian scouting activity.
“I urge you all to think well on the consequences of missing the deadline we've proposed. Thank you.”
Assault Team Sparta
I soared towards our target. Like skydivers, we held onto each others' arms and legs forming a living snowflake floating in the darkness.
Nott, named for the Norse goddess of the night, cloaked us in her darkness as she held my left arm and leg. Since no one could see though her darkness, I was the periscope that could see out, trusting to my absorption power to keep us safe from radar and their other sensors.
On my right was Weyland, code-named after the blacksmith also from Norse legends. Behind him rode Talos and Artemis, both named from Greek myths. The odd man out was our pint sized powerhouse, Bes, who got his name from Egyptian myths.
Reaching the long dark shape was only part of the problem. We had to enter without breaching the hull or otherwise every single hatch would be sealed against the pressure on the other side. That was not the best way to begin what had to be a lightning quick assault.
Weyland prepared to shift forward to take the lead, as my hands braked us against the hull. Releasing my ankle, he let himself be guided by his grip on my arm till I could reach his ankle. Our weightless gymnastics were not easy. All it took was one mistake and it all fell apart.
We were all safety belted to each other, but things tended to end up in a wad from even one mistake. In the interest of speed, there could be no errors.
With his hands free and me holding him steady by the legs, Weyland's power went to work on the lock. Metal was like clay under his touch. Using the compressed block of material bought with him, our metal-smith constructed an airlock as easily as someone else might snap open a folded bag.
Like a folding accordion, the team contracted, pulling each other close so he could enclose us all within its protection. attaching our airlock onto the objective, he equalized what we thought was the pressure on the other side so it matched.
A nod confirmed we were all ready. He opened the lock.
Everything went wrong.
Unequal pressure sent our bubble of air squirting away to the surface while we swirled around the inside like mice stuck in a washer on spin cycle.
Unhappily we were all bobbing on the surface of NASA's astronaut training pool. The other two teams were observing and making notes as they waited for their own turns. NASA and Navy consultants were taking notes as they worked on making this even harder for us.
“Well, that sucked.” said Talos, our Team leader and ex-Seal who specialized in boarding enemy vessels. His steel gray metallic skin was almost like mine, but unlike me, he was flesh and blood underneath, being rather like that Colossus character from the comic-books.
“We need some way of checking the pressure on the other side of the lock.” Weyland's eyes were still crossed from taking the whole force of the blowout right in the face.
“Yeah, but anything we use that breaches the lock door could give an alarm to their security systems and bridge.” Talos pointed out. “It'll have to be quick and fast.”
“Which means it has to be easy to read so I can equalize the pressure as fast as I can.” Weyland added.
“Turkey timer or meat thermometer.” I had flashbacks to helping Shelia cook Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. “You want something with a spike to punch though the door and yet keep a seal. On the end you need some type of gauge or indicator showing the data you need.”
“That sounds like it might do the job.” Weyland replied, “But I will have to use my power on the airlock's door to 'soften' a spot. If it's the same material their robots are constructed from, it's not going to puncture fast. That's tough stuff.”
“Not a problem.” Artemis spoke up. “My talent will work on it.”
Named after the Greek archer goddess, her power 'charged' items she could touch with extraordinary penetration traits. I'd seen her half bury a playing card in a block of steel. Unfortunately the charge lasted only seconds, so firearms were out, although there was this rumor of her working with a belt fed machine-gun crew. If true, that would've let her do her thing right before the bullet was fired, which was a frightening thought. On the other hand, all those bullets spraying all over the place, able to go though just about anything, was one hell of a hazard.
Her weapon of choice was the bow, where her physical prowess made looking at her in action like something from an Elvish fantasy movie. Artemis's speed, accuracy, and skill with not just the bow, but just about anything that she could pick up and throw, were downright amazing. Which was why she was on the Team. We had the hand to hand stuff down pat with all the super strong talent. She provided our extremely accurate 'shooter,' because no wants any misses in an environment where a stray projectile could puncture the ship or cause something to explode.
“We'll have to shift you forward, so you and Weyland can work together.” Talos nodded.
“I'll get the tech-boys on it.” Commander Simmons, who been running this exercise from poolside, assured us. “Now get back to your starting point and try again. Be prepared for another kind of problem.”
“Oh joy.” Nott muttered, sealing her helmet.
I did my best not to think about my coming session in the Chair. 'Never ever volunteer,' I reminded myself again.
Joint Alien Warfare Intelligence Center
“This looks like our best guess.” Dean breathed out heavily, as tired as the rest of us.
I could well understand the feeling. We'd gone though every piece of fiction in Kzon's gift of his Sha'leian Library looking for clues how their ships were laid out. It was complicated by our Christmas gifted tablets being keyed to us and us alone. No one else could use the damn things for more than three hours at a time and then needed the owner to 'unlock' it again.
We had, of course, printed and sent out copies as well to get as many eyes on this as we could, but the tablets did have built-in resources no copy had. Not surprisingly, those resources, a very basic glossary and dictionary which would 'explain' certain words and terms when highlighted, weren't down-loadable nor could they be copied.
Believe me, the Department of Defense Cyber-Warfare people really tried. When they failed to crack the operating system on our tablets they called in every expert they could think of. Hackers, NSA, and everyone in-between, did nothing, but beat their heads on their keyboards in frustration. Unlike a certain old movie featuring alien invaders, where Jeff Goldblum hacked and virused their computer system. the Sha'leians took their cyber-security very seriously.
That suggested we would be hopelessly stopped by any computer systems on-board their ship. It was a good thing we had plenty of brute force as well as our secret weapon.
“We still have more reports to sort, but I think you're right.” Shelia agreed with him.
Saying those stories that had been translated into English was pushing the definition. More than a few words were ciphers, and some of the passages were baffling. To help in the solving we'd printed the hell out of what seemed like our best bets and then copied them some more to get as many eyes on this as we could.
“One request we need to make is for an improved glossary!” I remarked, taking a moment to 'swallow' the energy from my torture device.
“I would go further and suggest a Sha'leian cultural guide book in English.” Dean snorted.
“Either one would've been nice.” Sheila sighed. “I don't think I've had such a hard time wrapping my head around so many new concepts since college, and that was a very long time ago.
“Speaking of new concepts, how are we going to handle Valentine's Day?” Dean bought up a good point. “It's not exactly known for its parties and, from what we've read, their culture barely acknowledges romanticism at all.”
“I got that too.” Nodding my head in agreement. “Kind of reminded me of some of the Asian stuff I've read about duty and honor overriding anything as inconsequential as physical attraction.”
“There's some European stuff like that too.” My girl grimaced. “Can't say I much like it. At the least the Sha'leian literature is a glimpse into another culture, but I can't see it being a real big hit. Well, maybe with the Artsie Fartsie people, but never with the romance paperback crowd.”
“How about you and Tamara?” She asked, him. “Is there anything going on between you two?”
“Not really.” Dean replied, a little dejectedly. “We've spent time together, but the majority of that was just work. There's some friendship there, but that's about it.”
“The only ones with the romance thing going on with the group is you two.” His eyes showed just a hint of jealousy. Not I think from desiring her, but of having a close intimate relationship. However, that did give me an idea.
“How about we have a 'couples' dinner?” I suggested. “Since you and Tamara are friends you can show our 'Out-of-Towners' what just a pair of friends do on Valentines. Shelia and I can then be the example of ...”
“Lovers?” She interjected with a smile, not daring to come near while I was in the Chair.
“Sure.” I couldn't keep my smile away.
“Oh, we can get each other all those embarrassing intimate gifts!” Her eyes lit up, full of mischievousness.
Even with being electrocuted, I blushed a deep red just thinking about the sort of things she talked me into altering my Skins into. Tash really had no idea of what he did with that gift to her. He created a monster, I tell you! However, I wasn't complaining.
“Something like that.” I choked out, as Dean laughed at my discomfort.
“We'll need to plan this out pretty carefully.” He chuckled. “There is a lot riding on this.”
“I know.” Just the thought of how much depended on our Valentine's dinner, was frightening. “I know.”
The Farm
Now that the time was nearly upon us, all I felt was more like a tired thankfulness that soon, one way or the other, it would be all over. Training, planning sessions, and then my electroshock therapy had pushed me to my limits.
We could always use more time, but for the military that was a quantity always in short supply. Trying to time so many operations that would be taking place so far apart was nearly impossible, given the state of things. That was why we had done our best to make all of them more effective if all went well, but not dependent on any others.
Hammer Hobbs had pushed for the best commanders available and to hell with politics. In the time allotted, as much training as possible had taken place as could be managed. Bugs and problems had been found and addressed, if not fixed, but I was certain more would be discovered at the worst possible instant. That was the way of war. Murphy made sure of it!
Hobbling along on with my cane, I looked up into the snowy sky, enjoying the simple pleasure of being me and standing on my own two feet. I'd spent a few moments as Halcyon to clear and open our makeshift hanger's doors, but it was nice just to spend time as me. Doc had given me the okay to actually stand and walk about, although he stressed I wasn't done with the Chair yet, even after the next scheduled treatment. It was still accelerating my healing, but he might've been alluding to me getting busted up again in the coming operation, oh joy.
On the other hand, I could use the excuse that this 'demonstration' of mine was contributing to our plans. Forget that I was just enjoying being as close to 'normal' as I could be these days. That was my story and I was sticking to it!
One of the other reasons was so I could give Halcyon as much time on the clock as I could. That didn't stop me from arranging a surprise for Sheila. Besides, I knew she'd followed through on her threat of embarrassing and intimate gifts. It was only fair that I have something 'special' prepared for her in return.
The snow was coming down in those huge wet flakes that kinda crashed and broke apart on landing. However, I wasn't worried about getting snowed in. This time transportation out had been arranged for us. It meant that I could simply just stand here in the snow enjoying the peace and quiet.
Not having Halcyon's jeweled eyes to help, Tash and crew got a lot closer before I spotted them. Smiling, I waved, even as my left hand was on my Q-Box button. Far too much was on the line for me to risk they might be pulling a preemptive counter-offense.
Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened. This time it was only Tash and Ralt strolling down their 'boat's' ramp. I thought I might know why. NATO forces in Europe had squashed the Sha'leian Fortress in Bilboa Spain just a few days ago. German Griffin Panzers and the British Cataphract plasma cannon armed heavy tanks had crushed their robotic opponents.
LA's defenders, on the other hand, were very aggressively making it known that any 'bots or drones crossing the city limits weren't leaving in one piece. Using the opportunity that the world wide offensive would prevent other beachhead attempts, the Army had poured their reserves, the 1st Cavalry and the 7th infantry Divisions which were being joined by the Marines 4th Division, into the defense for the city. Both of those latter two units had been equipped with the newest weapons out of Research and Development. Hopefully the damn things would work as well on the battlefield as they did in testing.
The Russians and the Ukrainians were doing their part too. The Black Sea Fleet, being well aware of how groups of vessels were targeted, had been making solo sorties, shelling and launching missiles in a steady stream into the Yalta Fortress, while their land forces positioned themselves.
Not to be left out, India and China were also getting ready to drop their own hammers, while probing their own Sha'leian squatter's defenses.
All of these were designed to slowly amp up the pressure, making our unwanted guests look, we hoped, in the wrong direction.
“Welcome!” I greeted, giving them that open palm over the chest Sha'leian salute.
“You are injured?” Tash asked, returning my gesture.
“The fortunes of war.” I smiled, holding up my cane. “As we say on Earth, you should see the other guy.”
“Actually, we have.” Ralt replied, sealing the hatch of their saucer. “You are a formidable warrior. However, we have learned that underestimating any of your people at all is a mistake.
He and I exchanged our own salutes, but he did so with such respect, I was really wondering. Had it been him who'd been controlling that 'bot that had the chance to finish me, but had instead let me live.
“I think we have wandered into those uncomfortable topics.” Tash reminded us. “Today is suppose to be about love, not war!”
“I couldn't agree more!” Laughing, I lead our guest through the snow to the warmth, gently clearing my feet of snow before going inside. With my injured legs, stomping them clean was a no-no.
“Since chocolate is such a staple on Valentine's, we thought that's where we would begin.” Sheila greeted us with mugs of hot coco. “Like coffee it is naturally rather bitter, and is usually sweetened with sugar or honey. I prefer the honey when I can get it.”
Our 'sponsors' had come though big time. We had chocolates, and more real food instead of Blue Soylent. Of course flowers were out right impossible given our current ice age, but Shelia had come to the rescue again.
As a mother, grandmother, and great grandmother, she was very familiar with all the arts and crafts stuff for kids. She'd setup 'kits' where we could join along as she demonstrated all the Great Depression short-cuts for crafting paper hearts, valentines, and even flowers. Her clever fingers created all kinds of colorful decorations right before all of our eyes.
Dean's 'hearts' turned out lopsided, and mine were rather 'fat,' but I wasn't too concerned. It was the thought that counted.
“Our school children make decorations like these.” She smiled, explaining. “Then they give the valentines to each other, sometimes with a personal message and sometimes without.”
“As we grow older,” My eyes found hers. “They're given to those you truly like or as we say in my part of the country, you're sweet on.”
“We also have something like this.” Tash examined his own attempt at the paper cut-outs. “The difference is that rarely is one person singled out as being 'liked.' It is groups of five to six, that roughly is like your families. Instead of monogamy, such as the majority of humans practice, ours could be described as group marriages.”
“Most of the time our families have equal numbers of both male and female sexes, but not always. There are those who fall mid-way between the two definitions. Those are considered very lucky and fortunate for the family whom they marry.” Ralt said.
“Your own situation.” Tash laughed. “Being of both sexes, would make you sought after among us for that reason, but your quantum warrior status would terrify many.”
I blushed. While recovering, I'd actually looked forward to the times of being Halcyon. The freedom of being able to move about, as well as the lack of pain and discomfort, were heaven. It'd surprise the hell out of me that I was getting used to being a seven foot tall, outrageously proportioned golden woman. The getting stared at, never, but the other things, well, I was getting there.
There were smiles and laughs as she passed out the valentines, like we were in grade school again. Of course mine had suggestive, if not naughty, messages from her.
“Although Valentine's began as celebrating a Saint, it has grown to be a day for romance and lovers. Chocolate, stuffed animals and other small gifts are popular for the kids, while those for the adults can become more risque. Of course, in other countries the way it's celebrated varies.” I moved us on to the next part of introducing Valentines to our Sha'leian guests.
“Just friends who perhaps just don't want to spend the holiday evening alone or simply enjoy spending time together without the expectations an intimate relationship brings.” Dean's wistfulness couldn't be missed. “Might gift her with a small box of chocolates, or a modest bunch of flowers.”
He blushed just a tad presenting that box of candy he'd mentioned and a plastic flower he'd gotten from somewhere.
“Thank you.” Tamara gave him a peck on the cheek. “Also a small tasteful stuffed animal could be appropriate, depending on the girl. Tailoring your gift to the person you're giving it to, shows you care instead of just going though the motions.”
“For those actually in, or wanting, an intimate relationship, much more is expected.” I said, with just a bit of a roguish smile. “Certainty the gifts need to be chosen carefully to show that 'caring' that Tamara talked about. However, playfulness is also nice. This is, after all, the person you've shared more with than any other person ever.
“So yes, something that will make her laugh.” I grinned, “But yes, that thoughtful sentimental little thing that causes tears, because you remembered as well. However, the future must be included too, that promise that you'll be there.”
I stepped out of sight to retrieve the huge bouquet of scented silk roses, I'd hidden before hand.
“Oh my!” Shelia grasped, laughing. “Where did you ever find these?”
With the world on a war economy, consumer goods weren't easy to come by.
“It wasn't that hard.” I laughed along with her. “Compared to these!”
The box of gourmet chocolates had cost a pretty penny, but my military pay was just gathering dust since I had very little to spend it on. It was more having the connections to get hold of them that'd been the challenge, which was was why I'd bought more than one box.
She recognized the imported sweets at once.
“You spent way too much!” Sheila accused me, even as her eyes sparkled at the very notion of how good that candy was going to taste.
“As you can tell, it can get rather expensive.” I didn't try to hide that I was enjoying every bit of this.
Tamara politely laughed and even Dean chuckled.
“Now this is where it gets a little unfair.” Shelia said to our guests. “When just doing the friends thing, usually the women isn't expected to give a gift to the men. Sometimes just a card is exchanged to let him know she is interested.
“However, like with the guys, more is expected when we ladies go out shopping, if not as much.” She got that look. “Often times its almost gag like gifts of an intimate nature, like themed boxers for him or sometimes something for her to wear for him. In this case since as you say, my significant other can fit both roles, I did some of both.
“Let's begin with the traditional chocolates.” She uncovered a dish she'd bought with us from base. “You're always telling me how much you like my cooking so, there. Of course I made enough for everyone.”
The home made brownies were cut to bite size and that was a good thing. They were so dark and rich that I could only stand one small cube at a time. Hmmm, just the way I loved them!
“The flowers thing was harder.” She giggled. “Craig just isn't the flowers kind of guy and Halcyon doesn't really have anywhere to put them even if she did. So I got my love this instead.
“Happy Valentine's Day.” She handed me this small, gaily wrapped box.
“In bygone times it was very popular with soldiers to carry a locket, a keepsake, of the ones they loved.” Sheila explained as I puzzled out how to open the box.
“In more modern times,” The practice had fallen out of favor since world wide communications weren't difficult.” She was clearly enjoying this. “However, with the present circumstances, it's not that easy now.”
Tearing the paper to get to the jewelry box, I open it finding a copper bright heart shaped pendant. Instead of your usual jewelry styled chain, it had a heavier Dog-Tag style chain.
Looking up, I saw her smiling eyes.
“Go ahead and open it up.” She urged. “Rather than your usual precious metals, this pendant and chain are crafted of the same stuff used in Sha'leian robots. Considering the places my love walks, it needed to be made of the toughest stuff available.”
Inside was a picture of the two us together taken at the Christmas Ball. I, Halcyon, was in that damn dress and heels. Although she also wore heels, Shelia barely came to my breasts, but that didn't keep both of us from smiling happily at the camera.
“Thank you.” I hugged her. “You're the best.”
“I want you to remember what you have waiting for you.” She whispered in my ear.
Wisely I kept my thoughts about how I really felt about wearing dresses to myself. The point is she was happy and I'd a good time too that night, dress or no dress.
Parting, but still smiling, I turned to Tash and Ralt who had the most interesting expressions on their alien faces. We still had a long ways to go to truly understand them, but I'd come to recognize the inquisitive set of their eyes and feathery crests.
“While things are changing, not so long ago, courting and courtship weren't too unlike the Sha'leian ones we've read about in Kzon's library. Marriages were carefully arranged business affairs.” I began.
“It still is for us.” Tash answered. “Affairs of passion do occur, but it is reason and an appreciation for reality that governs matings.”
“In some cultures it remains true for us as well.” I nodded once again thinking of how we were more alike than most of us wanted to contemplate.
“However, here in North America, it is the male who nearly always proposes to the female and a few traditional minded will go so far to ask the head of the woman's household for permission.” Sheila's questioning eyes were wondering what in the world I was leading up to.
“I'm going to quantum change now.” Warning them, I pressed The Button.
One of the advantages of my tablet and upgraded Q-Box control unit for my Skins, is that I can pretty much design exactly the clothing program I want. However, not being a graphic designer, I settled for mixing and matching till I got what I wanted. It helped that the operating system was truly user friendly.
I grew into Halcyon, but instead of my uniform just stretching with me, it changed too. The design had begun as a tuxedo, but one for a woman of my present voluptuous curves.
Beginning at my feet, I had a copy of a pair of Christian Louboutin black patent pumps with lowest heels listed. I honestly had no idea about style, but I did recognize the name.
Going up, I had on black leggings from Gucci which, again I knew only from the name. The form fitting material nicely highlighted my 'gams' as Shelia's generation would've called my legs.
Next up got kinda tricky because I couldn't really find anything I liked. The black dinner jacket was an open older style, complete with tails. The trick was the corset like waistcoat or maybe it was best said the corset served instead of a waistcoat.
Above that had been even more of trial for me. I was pretty certain she would've preferred nothing else but cleavage. However, while I might've adjusted a lot more than I ever thought I could to this girl thing, I hadn't gotten that far!
Since this was a takeoff on a tux, I added a ruffled white shirt that, although it did have a hole in it, the effect only teased at my golden tracts rather than display them. The sleeves extended out to the jacket's cuffs, but ended in more ruffles. Of course the entire garment was topped by a black silk bow tie.
Needless to say, my presentation had an effect.
Tamara, giggling, smacked Dean who was staring. Both Sha'leians had their scanner-computer things out searching down the cultural relevance of my attire no doubt on their copies of the internet.
Sheila's expression was a study. Some of it was 'you better not be doing what I'm think you're doing, while another seemed to say, “Oh, yes, yes, yes!' if you know what I mean. Conflicted said it perfectly.
“This is a female adaption of a formal male garment called a tuxedo or a tux for short.” I explained, doing a slow spin making my coat-tails swish.
“Generally speaking, Valentine's day is not the day for engagements.” I smiled as Sheila's ratio shifted more to the 'better not' expression. “It is better for a day that the couple can claim as their own without any other holiday involved.
“However, while I do have something very important to tell you.” I turned to her. “It is not that.”
“Sheila.” I dropped down to one knee where I was still just about as tall than her. “In the short time I've known you've been a friend, confidant, therapist, and even my stylist. You've accepted me even when I couldn't accept myself.
“My love, you've shown me parts of myself that I didn't know existed.” I spoke, lost in her eyes. “But just as we were coming to know each other, duty and honor split us apart. You made me promise to return even as I have repeatedly gone into 'harm's way.'
“I made that promise although I know better than most how impossible it could be to keep it. With this present situation I have no idea of where I might be sent or what I'll have to do.” Sighing, I revealed a jewelry box of my own. “This is my pledge, my promise, that if there is anyway possible I will come back to you.”
With that, I opened the box presenting the contents for her.
The pair of Titanium bracelets were set with diamonds and of course our birthstones. Her 'milk and honey' Cat's Eye for June was twinned with an Emerald for my birth in May.
“Oh!” She narrowed her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Accept?” I suggested, raising a brow.
Smiling, she held out her hand.
Carefully, I put hers on, and then held my hand out so she could put mine on. The one for me was bigger, but also had concealed stretchable links so it could expand when I grew and contract back when I returned to normal.
We kinda got a little lost in each others eyes for a few moments. However, Tamara picked up our slack.
“The true romantic will look for some way to ask that question that is sweet and unforgettable.” She added to what I'd said about engagements. “The trick is to have sounded her out about the possibility and, if her reaction seems positive, to ask her in a way that's a surprise.”
“So the female is expecting 'this' question?” Tash inquired.
“Usually, yes.” Tamara answered. “Modern dating tends to be a getting to know each other kind of affair. At some point the couple knows their relationship is working or it's not.
“Being human, we are prone to err,” Dean added, with some bitterness. “It's easy to misread people, even with those whom you're intimate. She can say no.”
“There are times when one or the other is happy with the way things are.” Tamara nodded her agreement. “And don't want them to change. They're not ready for the other things marriage generally brings with it, like settling down, children, and planning for the future together.”
“And sometimes.” She sighed. “It's like with these two. They love each other. Their relationship is, by our standards, unconventional, but they make it work despite that. However, they also have other issues confronting them, not the least is that they're both in the military, in different services.
“Like with the Diplomatic Service, they can always expect to be called away at any time to go any where.” Tamara begin cleaning off the table to set dinner. “Attraction may be how we meet, but to build and keep a relationship that can grow into something that lasts a lifetime takes dedication and care.”
“In a lot of ways, the gifts they gave each other are perfect for Valentine's.” Tamara continued. “It wasn't an engagement since they both know how crazy and unstable things are right now. However, they show, without any doubt, how much they love and cherish each other. We all know how uncomfortable Craig is with feminine clothing, but he went to the trouble and time to put that outfit together. He did it for her.”
“It's one thing to tell someone you love them.” Dean chuckled. “It's another to put yourself way out of your comfort zone to prove it.”
“Normally I would tell you two to get a room.” Tamara tapped us on the shoulders. “But we 'do' have a dinner to put on if you will remember.”
We both blushed. At some point I'd picked her up and she'd wrapped her legs around my waist.
“Excuse us.” I eased her to her to the floor.
“We got carried away.” Sheila giggled, twisting her bracelet in the room's light to see the diamonds sparkle.
“How did you ever afford this?” She asked.
“A pair of pilots that owed me a favor picked up 'five' boxes of those chocolates while overseas.” I explained. “That pretty much cleaned me out. One box went to the jeweler, but I sold the others which covered the rest of the costs and then some.”
While not a wheeler and dealer, I was rather proud of how well those transactions worked out. It was a more than a little mortifying to realize how much power Halcyon had over males when I asked for a favor.
“The bracelet is titanium and the gems were bound to the settings using the same technique our Guests use instead of welding.” I held up mine besides hers.
“Molecule binding.” Tash gave us the name. “It's a much more advanced method than welding.”
“And yet.” Ralt sighed. “Another technology we've inadvertently shared with your people.”
Of course 'I can think of how more such exchanges might be avoided.' sprang to my lips, but I held my peace.
An uncomfortable silent moment passed as everyone thought, but did'nt say my unvoiced comment.
“May I see your gifts?” Tash asked, breaking the tension.
Like every woman I'd ever known, Sheila wasn't shy about showing off her 'gift' and unfortunately she wasn't hesitant about dragging me over to show off how we had a matched set.
“This is not a use to which we would've put our technique.” The Sha'leian said as he examined our bracelets and my pendant. “However, it is practical considering both of your professions.”
“Both of our peoples are passionate.” Tash sighed. “However, humans seem to possess greater highs and deeper lows than Sha'leians. We are perhaps a more moderate race.”
Ralt stood as if thinking on the subject.
“Well,” I mused. “It's true that we seem to have more than our share of adrenalin jockeys and jockettes for that matter. There are times I really wonder about humankind, given how inhuman we can be to each other.
“But then there are others that lift my heart, such as the complete stranger giving aid to those in need.” I sighed, holding my love in my arm. “So maybe you have a point.”
Shooing us into the kitchen, Tamara got her chance to play Mistress of the Manor.
“You have learned much.” Sheila quoted as she eyed me and my tux in appreciation, but then sighed. “There is just one problem with Skins.”
“I know I shouldn't ask.” Tamara said, as she took the dishes that had been warming in the oven out. “But what kind of problem. You can make just about any outfit you can imagine with these things. They don't need cleaning and never get soiled. The stuff even self-repairs. What could be a problem?”
“Not being able to undress your Valentine's gift all by yourself takes a lot of the fun out of it.” She answered softly never taking her eyes from me.
My face burned coppery red under Halcyon's golden complexion. Tamara had to quickly put the dish down she was carrying so she would drop it because she was laughing so hard.
“You are so bad!” The diplomat gasped for breath.
“Shhh!” I hushed Tamara. “Don't encourage her!”
Watching my smirking girlfriend, I knew it was far too late for that. My life had gotten so very strange, but besides being in a war with aliens and being on the losing side, and this little problem with being a golden, living Barbie Doll, I was happy. Stressed out of my mind over yet another mission that many thought was an one way trip, but happy.
“It too late for that!” Sheila leered. “I have you now, my pretty!”
“Auntie Em, Auntie Em.” I dryly replied, with a raised brow which set off Tamara all over again. “Help me, help me.”
Sheila's leer collapsed into giggles.
“You!” Her eyes promised retribution of a kind I was actually looking forward to encountering. “You're so going to pay for that one. Calling me a witch!”
“Hey!” I protested. “You're the one who used 'My Pretty' first. I merely gave the expected reply.”
“If I'm a witch,” She sniffed, “It's a good witch!”
We got out the rest of the dishes and took them to the table
“Of course you're good!” I grinned. “But when you're bad, you're even better!”
“If you're not careful, you'll find out just how bad I can be.” She playfully smacked me on the arm.
“I'm not afraid.” I quoted from yet another movie.
“You should be.” She fought to keep from giggling while reciting Yoda's lines. To illustrate her point, she looked right at the bag of stuff she hadn't revealed to everyone else.
I don't think the guys noticed our banter too much. Dean had already moved the conversation onto our next point of interest.
“Our families tend to consist of a father, mother, a son and daughter.” He explained. “The two sets of grandparents aren't as much a central part of the families as they used to be, although technology expanding our lifespans are changing that. Yours, however, seem to be bigger and the expanded ties stronger.”
“That's true.” Tash nodded. “Although what you mean by expanded family ties such as cousins, nieces and nephews are regarded as close families to Sha'leians. So while you see families as being from four to six individuals, we see families as being three or four times bigger.”
This was all part of the plan to help narrow down just how many Sha'lenian colonists were on the way. From what we could tell their ship in orbit was enough for the initial set up work, but to make their colony long term viable, the numbers were looking to be between three and five thousand.
It went without saying that, if we were having trouble enough with an estimated couple hundred, a few thousand would be a nightmare. That had been the other telling point in Operation Artemisium's acceptance.
It was named for the battle where the Persian battle-fleet had met a major defeat. Occurring at about the same time as the Battle of Thermopylae, the Greeks had been as horribly outnumbered by the Persians as the Sha'leians out-teched us.
With so many other enemies potentially on the way, we had to deal with our current Guest's vessel and we had to do it now. That was the only way we would have time to prepare for Alien Invasion Part Two.
So pretty much what I was hearing, was what we had mostly guesstimated. Sheila and I left the conversation mostly to Dean and Tamara. We had other things to do, like staring into each others eyes.
That's not to say we didn't participate, but that we pretty much just commented on what everyone else were saying. I will admit to wanting to give Sheila my entire undivided attention. It took my mind off everything that had lead up to this moment.
War was Hell and the main event was coming fast.
Being here with her gave me a blessed respite from thinking and worrying about the future. Even dressed in this ridiculous tux, wearing jewelry, and eating exorbitantly priced chocolates, I didn't have any regrets. I had designed that tux, and picked out those bracelets. Those chocolates had cost me a good portion of my savings, but selling them had given me money to get the jewelry.
Additionally, they did taste so good! The chocolates and not the titanium jewelry that is!
As for the 'pendant,' many service members had a soldier’s locket with a picture or keepsake of their loved ones.
We got a chuckles from the others as we jumped up as soon as dinner was finished.
“Desert!” Was Sheila's battle cry.
Bringing in the hoarded ice cream we all indulged in the sinful pleasure. Following our lead they mixed their brownies and ice cream together. We got the giggles watching the Sha'leian pick the walnuts off their baked chocolate treats.
Dean rolled his eyes at the two of us feeding each other.
“It can also be very trying being around love birds like these two.” Tamara continued to be diplomatic.
“Our biology relies on what you would call seasonal mating practices which can be regulated by medication.” Tash took our romanticism in stride. “The difference between your and our matting behaviors are amazing.”
“Sha'leians can be rather aggressive during conjugations.” Ralt agreed with his companion. “This 'sappy' conduct from humans is unexpected.”
“Oh.” I laughed as Sheila dropped some sweets right down that opening in my tux onto my golden 'mountains.' “We can be very illogical and downright idiots when in love. I guess seeing the issue from both sides and given the strangeness of my Prometheus's Gift, gives me a rather unique viewpoint.
“As strange as it sounds.” I took it in good humor as Sheila dabbed at the spill. “I think woman are more aggressive, but in that passive aggressive way they have. The guys generally make asses of their selves trying to be noticed by the woman who caught their attention. They can be aggressive, but most I don't think are.
“Don't mix that up with those who simply think they can take whatever they want.” I shook my head. “That's like rape. It's all about the power over someone else and very little about sexual desire.
“You're talking about most the men I know.” Tamara observed. “But I'm not disagreeing.”
“Just calling them the way I see them.” I loaded up my spoon for Shelia. Playfully I pretended I was thinking about returning the favor of dropping it down her blouse.
“Okay!” Dean had enough. “You two get a room. Since you two are on leave, feel free to lock up when you're finished. Tamara and I need to be getting back to base.”
“It's time we were leaving as well.” Ralt laughed in that tittering way they had. “As always your holidays are very interesting. Similar to some of ours, but different as well.”
“I wish our people's could've met under different circumstances.” Tash sighed with a sad whistle.
“No one wishes that more than I.” Sheila and I put our plates aside to say goodbye to our guests.
Hands were shaken and salutes exchanged.
“You two go ahead upstairs.” Dean told the two of us. “I'll get the barn door so these guys can get on their way.”
“Yes!” Sheila jumped into my arms and I carried her upstairs.
Shutting the doors, we simply hugged each other for all we were worth.
Hearing the whoosh of Ralt and Tash departing, we both knew it was time.
Humanity is fighting for the right to live on our own home world. Every month, week, or day could be our last. However, no matter how we fight each other, if you give us a good enough reason to band together ...
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
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“Lookout to Guard Dog, Lookout to Guard Dog.” The hidden observer reported on his buried and shielded land-line as his partner continued tracking the departing alien machine. “The Chickens have flown the Coop. I say again. The Chickens have flown the Coop.”
“Affirmative Lookout.” The officer at the other end confirmed. “The Chickens have flown the Coop. Bug-Out is in effect.”
“I confirm Bug-Out.” The trooper and his partner who'd been dug in on the far away frozen hill, slipped out of their hide-away down their prepared line of retreat. In moments they were lost from view in the snow covered forest.
“We're out of time.” Captain Jamie “Truck' Tucker stared at his command crew. “The final preparation signal just went out. Are we ready to go or not?”
“We've got both Gold and Blue crews finishing up the final checks, Skipper.” His XO reported. “The yard dogs are still clearing the slip of ice.”
Looking out over his vessel's stern, the 'propulsion' unit was a big, ugly, bulging cylinder, slap-dash welded-on ruining the submarine's once sleek streamlining. Sure they used that new molecular binding stuff instead of torches or plasma welders, but a rose by any other name.
All the other Ohio nuclear ballistic missile submarines, with the exception of the three boats that had been reloaded with the modified Trident missiles and immediately had gone back to sea, had already finished this bastardizing spaceship refit and conversion.
If not for the fact that all the Ohio's shared the same design, and much of the work was prefabricated ahead of time only needing to be installed, they never would've made it this far. The 'Scoop' had been saved for last, given she was the oldest of the boats being converted. The LA class nuclear attack boats, while some were older, they also had much more time to at least pretend to have proper shakedown cruises, even if going to orbit was denied them.
In what some were calling Earth's first space battle, they had learned some damn hard lessons. All of the first group of converted US Navy subs had been L.A. Class Attack boats. Most had only slapped together weapons and only a vague idea of how the hell to fight a space battle. Needless to say, that fleet, which included United Kingdom, Russian, French and even Chinese vessels had gotten their asses handed to them.
This time they'd tried to learn from their mistakes, and all the converted submarines had a much heavier and better refined weapons load-out. Both Blue and Gold crews had worked like mad, not only to get their ship ready, but by running simulations until they were seeing double. That went threefold for all the officers.
Each war vessel now had an astronaut on-board or at least an adviser who had a firm understanding of the new medium the sub skippers found themselves functioning in. Sometimes the Navy's assertion that no one was truly knowledgeable about fighting a space-battle, so it was better to keep crews that at least knew their ships, went just so far.
So they all studied, trained and worked their asses off, knowing it was succeed or die time.
However, that did the 'Scoop' no good if she wasn't ready to launch.
“Hell, I say launch.” Marty Morton, the Captain of the Blue crew said. “Nothing has come back as a down-check on this go around. That's as good as any of the other boats that've had their tails chopped off and that damn alien contraption slapped on.”
“We've been provisioned, Captain.” Chief O'Hana spoke up. “Everything's been stowed, and we about as ready as we're going to be.”
“Nobody is saying no, so I'm saying yes.” Captain Tucker made his decision. “We're going. Tell the yard dogs to forget about flooding the slip. Just open the doors. We'll fly 'The Scoop' out. If she doesn't make it, well, it's better to know now than later.”
“You heard the Captain.” Barked the EXO. “We're getting underway, move it.”
“You coming Marty?” Tucker asked his counter-part who commanded this boat on his shift.
“Damn right I am.” The Blue crew's Captain replied. “You might have the con, but the Scoop is my boat too. Put me where you need me.”
“I thought you would say that. If I'd lost the coin toss, I would've said the same thing.” He picked up the mic. “All hands, this is the Captain. Prepare to get underway!”
Republic of the Congo
Allied Expeditionary Force
Hauptmann Schmidt of the German 1st Mountain Division triple checked his panzers one last time. So strange that the German army was in the Congo again. It was even stranger that 'he' was in the Congo at all. Just a week ago he and his platoon had smashed the alien invaders at Balboa, Spain, only to be ordered to immediately proceed to Africa.
The Hauptmann supposed it did make sense of a sort. Their Griffin Panzers could travel at a couple hundred kilometers an hour and required very little in the way of fuel and ammunition. Not so with food and other essentials for their crews, which was why they had loaded down their decks and turrets with spare parts, gear and supplies.
The whole crew had taken turns as 'driver,' while the others slept on the long journey. More than a few hair raising incidents had occurred, but they had overcome them. Being able to fly over the rough terrain greatly eased their journey.
Now they sat ready for battle. The African nations rallying to force the invaders out had an astonishing array of armor. Old Soviet tanks predating the Hauptmann's birth by decades, clanked their diesel engines, spewing blue exhaust smoke into the African night.
He almost felt sorry for those poor souls going into battle in such antiques. Still, while the Griffin Panzers were superior in every way than the Leopard tanks he'd spent most of his career commanding, they were still inferior to the alien robots.
Faster and much more maneuverable, the robots carried four times the Griffin's weaponry. Being humanoid shaped, they could run, jump and climb. Additionally, they were smaller and more agile than any tank, being about the same size as a small sedan. That's if a car had arms and legs.
The robots were also well armored. It was possible for heavy machine guns to damage one, but the gunner would have to be very lucky. Most anti-tank missiles could kill one, but the machine's targeting computers would, 99% of the time, destroy the projectile before it could strike. Again you had to be lucky.
The only way to assure a kill was with a panzer's main gun. Even then, the robots' computers and weapons could sometimes destroy the shell, but usually not. The Griffin's plasma cannon was even better. It had almost the range of the Leopard's 120 mm main gun, but did not require reloading. The recycle time was significantly less than the time it took to reload the Leopard's main gun. The problem was that with the robots' small size, you still had to have a good gunner.
That was much better than having to trust to luck! It was even better to have luck and a good gunner along with a good crew, which he had.
He took a moment to tuck away the photograph of his his family in his breast pocket of his battle tunic. Eric knew what he was fighting for.
“Mach schnell!” The Hauptmann ordered. It was time.
LA Defense Zone
Seventh Infantry Division
Private First Class Jimmy Thorpe looked up as the word was passed to his fighting position. It was time for their final checks.
Hefting his phased, pulse plasma gun, his hands performed all the checks with the sureness that came from endless drills. This was the first time they would be used in combat and everyone had warned them again and again that what works in the lab, isn't the same as working when you really needed it on the field of battle.
The heavy power-cell belt he wore to power his weapon was the same way. The damn things could and did just blow the hell up. With the power-charge it packed, super-soldier or not, nobody would ever be able to find all the pieces. Still the whole package was lighter than the .50 cal Barretts they had in basic training, and had a much improved chance of killing a Tweety 'bot.
He'd joined as soon as he'd turned eighteen instead of waiting to be drafted. Hell, just about his whole family was in the military now, from his grandfather, to his kissing cousin, Beth.
Being 'Captain American'ed' had been great. Always a good athlete, now he was like his personal hero he'd been named for, Jim Thorpe. Based on pre-war performance he could participate in almost every Olympic event and expect to walk away with a medal. He'd put on a good twenty pounds of solid muscle and grown a few inches to boot.
Their Drill Sergeants then ran each and every one of them panting and huffing into the ground.
“You're not going to be fighting flesh and blood, you maggots!” They yelled at their charges. “They're alien steel and soul-less killing machines that will grind you green boots up into hamburger with rail-guns, and barbeque what is left with plasma.”
“To smash those things you're have to be more than just some character out of the comic-books.” The Drill had growled, “You'll have to push yourself with a will of iron until you're harder than steel, to win this fight. Otherwise, all you know and cherish will be turned to dust by their nanites.”
Now the Tweeties were advancing on one of America's largest cities, after taking down San Diego. So many had died already, and more were going to join them. It was unavoidable. He hoped the new weapons would make a difference. They certainly seemed to in training.
Checking his buddy Jared's gear, everything looked good. Taking a deep breath he touched the locket Beth had given him. Somewhere in this mess, she was here too, wearing his high school ring as a necklace. He prayed that both of them would make it, but Thorpes knew their duty. There were things bigger than just the two of them.
Sergeant Biehn hand signaled them to move out. The waiting was over.
The Farm
We heard Tamara and Dean getting ready to leave. Both of us had our own preparations to make. Both our Skins shifted to their snow camouflage modes as we set the decoys that matched our body heat into operation.
I really hoped all of this was gross overkill, but my paranoia was in full swing. I'd warned everyone with access to our intelligence that all we've gathered from that Sha'leian library could be a scam. After all, our own nations had pulled just as outrageous counter-intelligence programs. I'd also pointed out that my Skins had been upgraded by Tash. That made the point that the Sha'leians could, at will, access all of the Skins our elite forces depended on.
That lead to an frenzy of activity among the developers of the Skins controllers to come up with protection. Strange as it maybe, the suits we received as gifts appeared more secure than what everyone else was using. The last I heard, they had fixed the problem. I certainly hoped so or our mission was going to be very, very short. Floating in space without a spacesuit would be a bad thing.
My paranoia had also modified part of our original deception plan. After giving our guests the impression Sheila and I were staying the night, I would then slip away. After thinking about everything that could go wrong, I had the thought that just maybe it would be too good an opportunity for the bad guys to pass up if they knew where the cause of so much of their troubles was going to be.
I might be able to take on 'bots, drones and tanks, but orbital strikes were a whole other magnitude of grief. Additionally, I wasn't going to be here, but Sheila was supposed to be here, making it look like I was.
Nope, change of plans!
We would do what we could to carry on the deception, but Sheila was 'not' staying here at potential ground zero. It simply wasn't that important on the off hand chance we were being watched by them.
With the decoys warmed up we sealed our Skins so that there would just be only two heat signatures in the house. Then we had a nice invigorating five mile run in the ice and snow. Well, really I was flying just inches above the snow carrying Sheila.
Pressed hard against me, she was feeling some of the 'weightlessness' that I did while in flight. Our practicing this was one of the few pleasant things about all the preparation for Operation Artemisium. It'd taken a try or two as she figured out where to put her arms and legs, as well for me to trust that she could hold on as she rode on my back. Really, it felt like 'spooning' and wasn't a problem at all.
“Whee!” She breathed into my ear as the wind whipped past us. “Promise me we'll do this again!
“When we have more privacy.” Sheila added, before closing her helmet's full face visor against the bone chilling cold.
Soon enough we met up with the 'Lookout' guys coming out of the woods. Recon troops, they'd sent out the signal that kicked off this show. We didn't greet them, just in case they were being watched. Instead we slipped aboard, hopefully unnoticed, when their ride picked them up.
The stubby winged Quantum powered variant of the ever dependable C-130 Hercules was vertical take off and landing capable, as well being able to reach orbit. This particular model had been modified to be very stealthy for Special Ops work.
The crew hurriedly pulled in and strapped us down as the pilots did little more than a touch and go. Then we were off as fast as we dared for Cape Canaveral.
While the recon guys tried to thaw themselves out, Sheila and my medic Cpl. Morgan helped me. I immediately changed back to Kingfisher. My cool-down times had gotten shorter, but I wanted to bank all the Halcyon time I could. However, there was another reason.
Together they got me into the Chair. Considerable care had been taken so I could be 'treated' while in flight. As the current flowed into me, I forced myself to relax so I could concentrate on making this work. It'd been important for Tash and Ralt to have seen for themselves that I was still hurt. This 'treatment' should be the last I needed to heal the rest of the way up. Yes, it was pushing things.
On a strict time table as we raced across Florida to the east coast, the second the chair's timer 'dinged' I was up. My Skins reconfigured to a design much like the MIT Space Bio-Suit. A form fitting spacesuit, it was based on other older designs such as the Space Activity Suit. With the improvements Tash had given as gifts, all that was needed was a helmet and oxygen pack.
A compromise had been reached between packing as much gear into the helmet as possible, visibility, and of course protection. It looked more like a full face motorcycle helmet than a spacesuit. They were the same helmets we wore leaving Dean's farmhouse. The other difference was that our Skins would flow over it, providing a perfect seal, but still letting us move freely and see out.
Of course, being a spacesuit, we needed oxygen packs. These were more SCUBA style re-breathers than air-tanks, but they worked great and took up very little room. They were between the size of a conformal hydration pack and a compact parachute.
That was what I needed her help with.
Putting on the oxygen pack and making all the connections to the helmet had to be done by someone else. Plus she made sure my Skins did as they were supposed to do and seal over it all. Then she double and then triple checked it all.
Maybe Halcyon didn't need air all that much, but Kingfisher sure as hell did. As a test I transformed back and forth to test everything before she gave me the high sign. I was ready, or in reality, as ready as I was going to get.
“I don't like that these things have never been tested.” Sheila looked as if she wanted to check everything over again.
“You've had the same instructors I've had. “Smiling, I tried to ease her worries. “The theory is sound and the idea an old one. NASA just never had the right materials to get it to work. Besides, I used this in the training pool and these are what the Sha'leians use as well, so in a way they have been tested.”
“Not while boarding a hostile alien space-craft in orbit while under fire!” She replied, hotly.
“Well, no.” I shrugged. “However, it'll make for one heck of a product endorsement after this is over.”
She held my hand tight since it's just a little difficult for us to do the hugging thing. I knew what was on her mind.
Contorting, I placed her hand over my wrist where the bracelet I'd given her was covered by my Skins.
“I promised.” Looking into her eyes, I smiled. “Remember?”
Touching her bracelet, and then her face, I bought her hand to my lips. That was the best I could do for a kiss with the helmet on.
Then my stomach dropped as the pilots had us descending in one of those 'We're going to die!' combat landings. Think of the most terrifying roller-coaster ride ever and double it.
“I love you.” Was all I had time for, as we hit ground and the crew practically threw me off the plane into the clutches of the Spartan launch crew. As rehearsed, I was hustled to the elevator leading to the top of the gantry where the rest of my team waited. On the very short trip the techs checked my suit and seals again. Fortunately Skins were much more 'wash and wear' than the old spacesuits the astronauts from my childhood wore. There were no need for the small environmental 'suitcase' units they carried. However, just the same I was traveling up a rocket gantry to climb into a real live rocket, a spacecraft. I challenge anyone from my generation who watched the first man on the moon make that historic step, not to feel something.
The space 'capsule' in this case was a very modified Dragonrider. code named Sparta since, for this mission, we were Spartans. It was a crewed variant of the Dragon cargo pod that used to take cargo to the International Space Station. Of course I had the seat nearest the door. While I was being strapped in and hooked up, the rest of my team were getting their own last inspections.
Unlike the exhaustive countdowns from watching the Apollo Moon Shots, this one was going to be short. Most of their checklists had already been done having begun when Tash and Ralt had landed at the barn. It'd been on hold waiting for me. Hopefully all our subterfuge wasn't wasted and would help us gain the priceless advantage of surprise.
The Falcon Q, well it was still sorta kinda a rocket even if it did have a quantum engine now, had a massive payload. There were a couple reasons for using it. One it was already designed for space and only needed to be updated. NASA warned all of us with powers that changed the laws of physics to leave things well enough alone and stick with things as they were. Everything was programmed into the flight systems and mucking up weight or mass would screw up, well everything.
With the Sha'leians magical touch with computers, there couldn't be any open links or communications with the launch vehicles. It was all pre-set, although there had been some talk about including a pilot just so changes could be made on the fly. That was decided against for the simple reason that our ride was supposed to look just like all the others that would be launched along with us. That would spoil our entire deception plan and simply get us targeted by every damn weapon our Visitors had at their disposal.
So what they did was double, and triple check every damn square inch of this Dragonrider and Falcon Q vehicle. Then they checked it again. That was our fail safe. We had to trust that the engineers and scientists did their jobs right.
When this was being explained to us, Bes gave them a glare.
“If this bloody thing blows up out from under us, I'll be coming to see you about it.” The all of four foot five strong man from the United Kingdom promised.
If Halcyon had any rival in the toughness department, it was the UK Prometheus soldier code named, Bes after the Egyptian god who was the protector of households as well as of women and children. So it was very possible that he very well would make his displeasure known.
It was then it was pointed out to him that he would have to 'ride' in his normal form since they didn't make seats for someone of his stature. To say he wasn't happy would be the biggest understatement of the century.
After a moment, he glared back at the official briefing us. Then in a flash, he transformed into his normal form, an nondescript slim and androgynous young adult. A flash later, Bes was back, but gone again replaced by the other again.
I at least had my mouth hanging open. It took me one hell of a lot of effort to initialize a transformation. Bes did it as fast as an eye blink, back and forth without resorting to the Q-Box button even once.
Finishing his dizzying rapid changes as Bes, he smirked, folding his arms. He'd made his point. Unless he was killed immediately he had a good chance of being able to change fast enough to survive.
“Sealing the hatch.” The launch crew reported.
“Standby Spartans.” Mission Control told us. “We're sending our 'ready' code now.”
For now my part was done. My team and I were only passengers waiting for our turn in the next phase of the plan. Now we wait.
Atlantic Ocean
Navy Research Station Zulu
The cracking ice heralded the conning tower of the first submarine surfacing up through the frozen ocean. Then another and yet a third busted their way past the icebound surface of the North Atlantic. His job had been to monitor the radio waves and send on the message via the hydrophone that he and his fellow sailors had drilled though to the ocean below.
He panned his camera, making sure the shot got all the other conning towers that were also appearing as they rose from their hiding place beneath the ice covered north Atlantic ocean. Trying not to rush and botch the shot, he panned back to the first surfaced sub. However, it had not just stopped at merely rising from the sea. Shattered slabs of ice rolled off its deck as it rose into the air. Icy spray flew in the gusty winds as the plug ended vessels' quantum drives lifted them, impossibly, into the stormy winter skies.
Still shooting, he moved his camera to the next broaching sub. He'd chosen his location as well as he could to catch this scene. Based on the best guesses of his and the rest of his mates, he'd marked out this place and had rushed here once the signal had been given.
Even he was amazed by the sight and he'd had some idea of what to expect. Dozens of subs were at different stages of breaking though the ice and heading skyward. Carefully working the zoom, he saw the markings for not only the US Navy, but the Royal Navy, France's La Royale, and more than a few Russian Navy vessels. Speaking of which, he zoomed out to catch the unmistakable leviathan form of a Russian Typhoon SSBN, the ice sliding off as it freed itself from the icepack.
A fresh geyser of freezing sea water shot upwards from the first, already vacated hole in the icepack. More loud cracks echoed as something even bigger than a nuclear attack sub cheated by using the smaller submarine's breakout point.
A tapered wedge shape, it was as about the same size as the massive Typhoon that was still climbing in the background. Instead of the big ugly propulsion 'can' welded to its stern, the quantum drive looked to be part of the design.
He kept the vessel in focus as it turned to follow the others into the sky. It only made sense that, after that first disastrous battle using the converted submarines, the Navy would build a 'designed from the ground up' space-warship.
That first international 'fleet' of twenty modified submarines had been annihilated by the Tweeties. This time there was at least several times that number heading into battle. Then that ship's name became visible.
He damn near dropped his camera. Numbly, he reasoned, it did make sense. The active Navy ship previously bearing that name had been decommissioned, which meant it'd been available. At least this time they hadn't given the name to a non-launch-able atmospheric glide test dummy. This was a real deal, a spaceship. Somehow, he kept it in focus at it disappeared into the dark clouds above.
The United States Spaceship, Enterprise was going to war.
US Air Force Secure Facility
'The Snake Pit'
Captain Doug, 'Da Bus,' Ingebretson, US Air Force moved his Copperhead's throttles forward as the fighter smoothly leaped forward out of its hidden hanger carved deep into the protective rock of the mountain.
Purpose built from wing tip to wing tip to fight in the harshness of space, the Copperhead was heavily armored and armed. Like the infamous F-4 Phantoms of the Vietnam War era, they were brute power machines, but from every sim and test they could devise it should do the job.
The quantum engine converted F-35's and F-22's were hot birds to fly, but in the end they were still aircraft. The one aborted fighter attack on that damn Tweetie ship up there had not ended well. Maybe it had to be tried, but it also proved a need for something built specifically to do the job.
It was expensive as hell, but they had learned their lesson. The science boys had worked out just how to make that stuff the Tweeties constructed all their stuff from. It was stronger and lighter than steel, titanium or anything Earth had, but the secret had been broken. The only drawbacks were how hideously difficult it was to produce and they couldn't get pigments to stick to it. The coppery stuff had been nicknamed Orichalcum from the mythical, nearly impervious metal very popular in fantasy fiction.
The only name for the sleek delta winged ship that gleamed copper bright in the hanger was Copperhead, after the North American snake from the pit viper family. It had just enough wing area to fly if it really had to and as a place to put all the weapons it carried. This was not an aircraft so calling it a 'bird' wouldn't do for all that it was one hundred per percent pure predator.
Copperhead fighters not only carried enough Orichalcum armor to take a couple hits from a drone's plasma burners, but the fighter also carried enough plasma firepower of its own to take out a drone in one shot.
Everything pointed to the hardware he was riding as being a decisive weapon system. Now all he and the rest of his squadron had to do was prove it. They weren't going alone either. Russia, China and the European Union had designed their own space-fighters, while others were still using converted aircraft.
As far as he was concerned it was about time someone besides that crazy chick he'd 'released' that wintery night in North Carolina, to come up with a good old fashioned Razzle Dazzle plan. Fake out the bad guys and then hit them hard right where it hurt the most.
Arrowing his Copperhead upwards into space, he grinned. Payback was a bitch.
“Yippee Kay yay, mother ...”
Pacific Ocean
SSBN USS Maine
missile firing depth
Together with Commander Jimmy Wikes, his executive officer, Captain Louis Simms of the SSBN USS Maine turned his missile firing key. In a rapid fire maneuver only practiced in drills, the Ohio Class Ballistic Missile Nuclear submarine launched all her 24 modified Trident missiles. According to plan, so did their remaining sister boats the Wyoming and the Louisiana. Seventy-two Tridents carrying their full load of eight Multiple Independently Targetable Reentry Vehicles, MIRV's, for a total of 576 warheads.
But these weren't nukes. They were something special just for the Tweeties. The specialized warheads had been intended for use on the ground, not in space. That was why they hadn't been used during Operation Nutcracker back in December. However, after some debate, the suggested use was inspired.
Again, if everything went to plan, the rest of the world was cleaning out its nuclear closets too. Almost everyone had held back a little something, or had reloaded their launchers. However now, with Hammer Hobbs in charge he'd worked miracles, kicking everyone's asses to get them to work together.
“We've fired dry!” Jimmy remarked as he ordered the missile doors shut.
“Take us deep and step on it.” Louis commanded. “Let's not count on the Tweeties being too busy to send something our way.”
“Now it's Miller Time!” One of the chiefs joked softly.
“Just doing our part for nuclear disarmament.” Jimmy said, holding on as the deck slanted beneath their feet.
“Happy Valentine's.” Despite himself, Louis allowed himself a smile. “Hope you like the flowers.”
Hauptmann Schmidt 'buttoned' his panzer's hatch. Scores of the alien aerial robots were abandoning the field of battle. Their tremendous speeds were creating streaks in the African night sky.
“Das ist Gut!” He grinned a tiger's smile. It was proof that, at some level, the 'plan' was working. All around the world the Aliens would be recalling their robotic Luftwaffe to defend their mother-ship.
Ahead of his company, thunder roared as the offensive to take back the both the Congo's capitals kicked off using the opportunity to its fullest. Without their air support, the Aliens would be more vulnerable. Already the incredibly diverse mix of human combat aircraft were descending on the battlefield like the clouds of mosquitoes infamous in this region.
They weren't the only ones who could fly. His Griffin rose into the air along with the rest of his company's panzers. The 1st Mountain Division was on the move. No, not just his unit, but the whole world. Armies across Earth were advancing to crush these invaders. These Aliens would learn to cross Earthlings at their peril.
Scanning for targets, he spotted a burning T-55 tank. Looking sharp, he found their killer.
“Gunner!” He barked. “Target ten o'clock, short burst!”
The Griffin's turret smoothly rotated into position as its plasma cannon turned its robotic target into slag.
Ah, the first kill of the day!
Cape Canaveral Florida
“Spartans!” Mission Control announced. “We are go for launch.”
A rumble reached even inside the Dragonrider capsule. It wasn't us, but our escorts. Space centers worldwide were launching a great mixture of all kinds of special hardware, that was intended not only to hide us, but to give confusion to our enemy.
As great as quantum drives' advantages were over rockets, their energy signatures could be tracked. We learned that from them reacting so violently to the Prometheus engine being used. That was why, although the launch vehicles used 'Q' engines, all the final stage orbital maneuvering vehicles used old fashioned gas thrusters. There were no energy trails to be tracked from the cold gas powered units.
Outside of Hollywood nothing like this had ever been attempted. One rocket after another was fired into orbit as fast as mission control could ensure one launch wouldn't interfere with another.
Our place in line was in the middle of the pack. Nine rockets from the Cape and yet more from Vandenburg, Wallop's Island including the other two Pantheon teams that was a part of this assault. That was just the United States share. Any place that had the facilities put up as many gantries as they could handle. Any and all nations capable of putting something up were throwing something into the pot.
“I hate to disturb you, but we're preparing to launch.” Talos dryly told our team. “And would one of you please wake Bes?”
Nott and Artemis were discussing something, but Weyland had somehow smuggled a paperback book on board and was reading. The metal-smith nudged the compact powerhouse's elvish alter-ego awake, while he marked his place and put his book away.
It more than a little ironic that Bes, who looked so much like a dwarf from the fantasy movies, looked so elf like in his 'secret' identity. At least I thought it was 'he' and not she. I could be wrong, but Bes never corrected us on the point.
Some part of me wondered how they could be so calm, but another pointed out this was much better than my New Year's Eve ride in a F-35's weapon's bay. This time, I even had equipment that had just might keep up with me. Of course riding a rocket on Valentine's Day to board an invading ship full of aliens could be even more crazy. Perhaps, instead it was only pure desperation.
“Five”
“Four”
“Three”
“Two”
“One”
“Launch!”
Just like in testing, our Skins acted like g-suits, squeezing and contracted where needed to maintain good blood flow. Everyone was doing that g-strain maneuver that helps you stay conscious during high gravity events like this one.
Unlike me and Bes, they were all in their most survivable forms. Unlike me, they had spent more time using their Prometheus gifted powers. So although I had my gift the longest, I hadn't used it. The powers were like exercising any muscle. You had to use it to get any additional benefits.
On the other hand I was, thanks to that last 'therapy' session on that C-130Q, healed and experiencing some of the residual benefits of 'drinking' energy. However, we were also blasting off a lot harder than the space-shuttle's three G's.
In order to keep the deception that this was an unmanned flight we had to boost fast enough so that our uninvited guests wouldn't suspect anything suspicious was up. Due to our gifts, Skins, and having trained for this none of us passed from G-LOC, Gravity Loss Of Consciousness. Well, at least no one admitted to it.
Bes had woken from his 'nap' and was chattering away about this bar in Bristol, doing his best to act as if he was unaffected by weighting many times more than normal.
“Best place for a pint, I've ever been.” He jovially ignored that we were being mashed flat.
“Nah, if you really want to get a beer that hits the spot.” Weyland disagreed, also struggling to keep from showing the stress that was pushing us down. “There's this little bar in Chicago.”
Thump!
Even Bes was silent as the first of the stages separated. From our mission briefing I knew it was not falling away, but deploying one hell of a set of powerful electronic warfare jammers very similar to ones we'd used to great effect on the ground to jam their 'bots.
Then a second, thump!, struck as the next stage activated. This was the one that was placing our ride in the right orbit and where it got tricky. If the Sha'leians played this the same way they have before, every drone they owned was racing back to help protect their ship.
The jammers should start after they were on their way, but before the drones could receive detailed instructions, but the topping for the cake was coming soon. Our Dragonrider capsule spun around heading onto a new trajectory as the cold gas thrusters kicked us away. The second stage then continued with its next mission as it accelerated towards our objective. Spinning, it released a flurry of good old fashioned metallic coated strips, chaff, to confuse them and their drones' sensors.
Hopefully our capsule was invisible due to the stealthy design and the near zero power consumption. Whatever was left to be detected would be covered by the jamming and chaff. Then too, we weren't headed right at the ship anymore. Nope, no danger or targets here!
“Men,” Artemis snorted, rolling her eyes. “Your preoccupation with beer. If you really want to relax, a nice mug of freshly brewed coffee wins every time.
“There's this cafe' in New York, Sacred Grounds.” Her eyes got a faraway look. “Their coffee is so good, and their cinnamon rolls are to die for.”
“I don't know about that fancy coffee you Americans rave about.” Weyland spoke up. “I'm rather fond of Tim Horton's. They're hard to beat on a cold morning when you need to get moving.”
“I've never been to NYC, but there is this diner in Edmonton, Mavericks.” Nott smiled. “It might not look like much from the outside, but it's run by the best sort of people. They make these cinnamon rolls that I'd put up against anyone's” She looked Artemis in the eyes.
“That good?” She asked, as Nott nodded in reply.
“Those are always the best places to eat when you can find them.” Bes agreed sagely. “They're not cooking to a template, but to real recipes by people who care about what they're cooking.”
I was about to say something in agreement when Talos gave the word. He'd been peering though this periscope like gizmo, wearing his jump-master's 'hat.' All I knew was it used optics to somehow determine when was the optimal time for us to take our leap into the dark.
“Prepare to disembark!” He ordered.
The air was carefully vented out so not to be visible. Meanwhile we'd prepared for our egress. We'd practiced this so many times in the pool, on the mockups, that it was really anticlimactic which, of course, was the whole point of the exercise.
What couldn't be simulated was the awe of actually seeing Mother Earth there before us. I'd seen the pictures, movies, and super realistic computer graphics of the world seen from space, but it was not the same as seeing it with my own eyes.
However, there was no time to sight-see. Timing was everything and while I did stare, I kept moving. Changing into Halcyon once outside, I did my own little version of the warm up dance to see how my flight power worked way up here. As far as I could tell there weren't any huge differences.
Meanwhile the others were gathering and clipping on equipment. Fastening our harnesses together. Nott engaged her 'darkness' and I set us to moving. Gliding in the void, I tried not to think about the death that was just that close.
'Stay on target.' I grimly set my mind.
Operation Artimisma
Second Space Battle for Earth
Streaking up out of the atmosphere, the USS Maine's 'flowers' blossomed as the modified Tridents deployed their MIRV's. The main booster, being quantum powered, continued to accelerate as its optical sensor locked onto the Sha'leian starship.
It, and its ocean launched sisters, rushed past the Falcons and other rockets that'd lifted off from space centers from around the world as they were beginning to deploy their loads of electronic warfare goodies. That was why all the MIRVs could be devoted to their primary payloads. All the penetration aids that would confuse the defenders allowing the warheads to strike, were carried by the rockets in greater numbers and with expanded capabilities.
Seeing the Tridents main boosters arrowing right at them, the alien ship's defenses destroyed them before they could pose a threat. However, the aliens found their view of the incoming Earthling attack hopelessly concealed behind the mass of chaff, jammers and every other means of generating confusion to their enemies Earth could throw into the fight.
Unsurprised the Sha'leians directed their drones into the fray. It was expected that the primitives would hide behind an electronic 'smoke screen' so they could get close enough to hurtle their 'sticks and stones' at the 'conquistadors' galleon.
Even when they lost contact with their robotic minions, the aliens weren't concerned. Their drones would act as programmed and eliminate their enemies. Advancing on the incoming MIRV's, the drones' priorities changed as each warhead began releasing thousands of submunition 'ball bearings' made from the scrap of the many alien machines Earth had destroyed, each Orichalcum projectile had a much higher melting temperature than steel. The first group of drones were shredded by the barrage, while the ones following them were conflicted by their programming. Some drove into the metal storm, striving to protect their mother-ship, while others avoided it, attempting to target the metal 'hail' storm.
All they accomplished was changing the flavor from 'Rocky Road' to 'Hot Fudge Sundae.' The now molten Orichalcum still had the same insane velocity as before built up by constant boosting all the way from underneath the sea. Like hollow pointed bullets their impact area was larger as they 'splashed' causing yet more damage. What didn't penetrate 'spread' across the drones' surface covering sensors and sealing over moving parts as the Orichalcum cooled in the vacuum of space.
Not realizing that the attack wasn't directed against their masters, but the drones themselves, the third phase of Earth's plan unfolded.
Second Space Battle for Earth
Copperhead Squadron
'Da Bus's flight of Copperheads passed the modified sub as it crossed the boundary between sky and space as fast as it could. Not that it could come anywhere close to a Copperhead's speed. A quantum drive only passed on some of the experienced g-forces to the craft it powered, but he still needed his g-suit and fitted flight couch. His fighter could kick some serious G's that 'ship' could never match and forced its pilots to their limits.
Zooming by the rest of the Fleet's modified subs and even a handful of purpose built vessels, his squadron formed up with the other fighters from all over the world joining this party. From the copper bright, purpose designed space-fighters like his, to nearly every camouflage scheme under the sun for the converted 'air-breathers,' they were a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors.
It was the salvo of ballistic missiles and rockets that overtook and passed even their sleek machines that was the signal. Knowing how impossible it would be to try and coordinate this whole complicated plan, the Brass instead tried to schedule the events so one added to the other without one depending on another.
Arming his guns, he and the legions of Earth fighters followed as close behind the wave that'd thundered past them as possible. Da' Bus had a great seat to watch the missiles and rockets' stages separate, as well as the MIRV's deploy. He'd known it was going to happen, but rather thought they would look like giant fireworks. After all ballistic missiles were giant rockets, right?
Instead it was almost stately as they blossomed out very flower like, at least at first. Then it turned into a confused mass of light as the clouds of sensor reflective strips of chaff and submuntions from the MIRV warheads were released.
He couldn't keep a fierce smile as the horde of Drones swooped though the glittering and twisting strips right into the path of the man-made meteoroid storm. Some were just outright torn to shreds, while others were battered into wrecks. Very few of them could fight after that encounter.
It took the hard discipline of learning to survive thus far in this War not to go after the maimed and crippled Tweety drones. As per his squadron's battle plan, that was for the much more numerous modified 'aircraft.' Watching them swarm the wounded drones, he kept his eyes out for the next wave of enemies.
It went without saying that the 'shotgun' blast of projectiles would become less effective the further it traveled. His squadron's targets were those who were less affected and went after the 'air-breathers.' In a way, it was using those allied pilots as bait, but they were also covering those more vulnerable fighters as well.
That was War.
His commander gave the hand signal to roll right. It took a lot of work to get by without radios after being trained to depend on them. However, since it was learn or die, he learned and lived.
Da' Bus plasma guns spat at the group that sneaked in from the edge of the 'wave' of meteoroids, leaving only wreckage behind. Vectoring hard, he fired another burst at a second drone as the squadron of Copperheads entered the twisting, swirling fight.
A recipient of the Air Forces Eagle enhancement program, his reflexes, perception and coordination were second to very few. A short squirt of plasma crisped a drone's missile streaking his way, while he rolled crazily to avoid its next attack. Viffing about so he was briefly flying backwards, he nailed it, causing the rest of its missiles to explode. Pelted with debris, he flipped his Copperhead to turn it's armored belly to the blast. It would not do to crack his canopy. That would not be good.
“Please Lord.” Seeing more drones avoiding their man made meteoroid storm's 'wave,' he muttered a short prayer. “We need a little help here.”
<
Second Space Battle for Earth
USS Henry M. Jackson SSBN
The Scoop
“Retract the aerospike and run out the guns, XO.” Captain Truck Tucker ordered with a shake of his head. “Never thought I would be giving that command.”
“Never say never, Captain.” His executive officer grinned back.
“Outer doors are open.” Chief O'Hana reported. “Guns are run out and are reading in the green.”
The Ohio class only had four torpedo tubes, which was fine for a submarine. It wasn't so good for a space-craft that needed those guns not only for offense, but for defense as well. Some streamlining was still desirable, since it greatly increased the speed they could fly without revving the drive, which decreased the effectiveness of that effect that kept the g-forces bearable. Keeping the guns in the tubes added almost a good 100 miles per hour to their speed at least till they got out of the atmosphere. The aerospike too was a device normally used on their missiles to help reduce drag, but worked just fine for the 'Scoop' too, even if it did interfere with the guns field of fire when extended. However, it was a cobbled together compromise until more purpose built ships like the Enterprise, the flagship, could be constructed.
“Signal from the Flagship!” A rating sounded off as he kept watch, using a digital camera keep a sharp eye out for the command ships' orders.
“Concentrate missile and fire support Quadrant Sierra Four.” He continued.
“Acknowledge receipt.” The Captain shook his head again over how the Navy had taken a great step backwards. What was next? Raise the sails? “The Scoop is complying.”
“That would be here.” Chuck Green their astronaut adviser pointed at the place on the chart and globe that showed the relative positions.
Sparing a glance for the computer monitor, it agreed. Ever since the Tweeties raped the internet, it was always a good idea to confirm what the computers were displaying when you had no choice, but to use them.
The Combat Information Center, CIC, had highlighted the quadrant which the Big E had designated as their happy hunting ground. In the nearer adjacent area there was a squadron of the Air Forces' new toy, Copperheads, holding down the flank. It was downright gratifying to see something built by Earth kick alien ass. However they were being slowly overwhelmed as more fresh drones entered the fight from Sierra Four. The Scoop's job was to close the 'door.'
“Uploading firing coordinates to weapons now.” The missile tech replied. “Estimated completion in three minutes.”
“Very good.” The Captain acknowledged. “Bring us about, Helm. Weapons control, fire when you have confirmed your targets.”
Switching views on his own display, he saw a Russian Oscar class SSGN, and an American LA class SSN launching their missiles as well. The Russian boat carried double the dozen missiles of the American boat, but still they had found that was lacking for a space warcraft. That was one of the many reasons that Earth had lost its first space fleet battle.
The Scoop, being a converted SSBN, was huge for a submarine if smaller than the Russian Typhoons and their replacements the Borei class. The guided missile conversion turned her 24 ballistic missile bays into 22 carrying six each of the smaller Thunderbolt missiles for a total of 154. That was almost the number carried by the whole fleet in the last battle and enough to put a hurt on just about anyone.
“Targets acquired and confirmed!” Chief O'Hana at Fire Control sang out.
“Light them up, Chief.” Captain Tucker commanded.
The lights didn't even have the decency to dim. Being energy weapons the plasma cannons had no recoil nor made any sound. Unlike those first converted boats that had weapons scavenged from the Tweety's robots, Earth had learned that equipping warships with what amounted to infantry and aircraft weapons was a fool's gambit. The new generation of converted boats had the biggest, heaviest plasma cannons that they could build and still fit in the torpedo tubes. They had the latest collimators and all the other improvements scientists had discovered.
“Targets destroyed!” The Chief failed to conceal his glee. “Re-targeting guns.”
“Missiles prepped!” Fire control reported. “Ready for launch.”
“Double check target area for friendlies.” Truck Tucker ordered. With so much crap flying all over the place, with damn limited communications it was nearly unavoidable that friendly fire would happen. He was going to be as careful as he could that it wasn't the Scoop.
“Watch reports the area is clear, Captain.” His EXO said, looking over the ratings shoulders.
“Plan Delta.” He ordered. “Fire!”
“Plan Delta, Firing missiles, aye!” Weapons Control acknowledged.
Unlike the 'guns' the Scoop gave a slight tremble as twenty Thunderbolt missiles launched. Perhaps they were smaller than tridents, but they weren't small by any means, being deliberately the size of the Tomahawk missiles they replaced.
“Go to continuous fire on the guns, Chief.” The Captain ordered. “Weapons, ready another flight of missiles Plan Alpha. Let's be ready to pick off the spares.”
The Scoop's missiles were on target. Maybe they weren't carrying anywhere near as large a payload as a Trident, nor did they have the velocity imparted by the long constant boost, but they still carried a half ton payload. To make up those differences, each Thunderbolt carried six Mako smart submuntions. The short ranged high-velocity missiles deployed as the primary bus looked for targets.
Once again it was a matter of humanity being inventive. Using the same technology the Sha'leians used for their own missiles, the sensors were much better than anything mankind had invented before the invasion. However it was also much cruder and bigger than the seekers in the aliens much sleeker and smaller weapons.
That was why each Mako was connected to and wire-guided by the Thunderbolt's 'bus.' Once a target was locked on, it was attacked from six different angles. The drone's self-defense programs were good, but not even they could cover that large of an area simultaneously. The usual result was four failed attacks, but with the last two Makos overwhelming the drone and achieving a kill.
It was gross overkill, using a weapon the size of a cruise missile to kill something as small as a drone 'aircraft' sized opponent, but if it takes a hammer to kill, to do the job, then by Gawd you used a hammer!
Confronted by 120 smart Mako submunitions, and The Scoops direct plasma cannon fire, the hole the drones had found was slammed shut. The Copperheads finished off the rest of their foes
“Captain!” Communications reported. “Flag sends, 'Well done.' Engage new targets, Quadrant Hotel Seven.”
“Cease fire, Chief. Helm, bring us about to course 170, down-bubble 10 degrees.” Truck ignored the NASA man' head shake at his use of submariner terminology.
As the heavenly skies of Earth were contested with fire and iron, the Scoop turned to pursue other enemies. Neither 'boat' nor captain was aware that one of their previous foes had only been grievously wounded and not killed. Badly wounded, with its sensors and communications gear obscured with molten Orichalcum from the Mako, it'd almost killed, Drone 72129 blindly shot across the battle area in the best loose cannon tradition.
The fields of fire and the Pantheon boarding teams' trajectories had been carefully laid out. Not wanting to catch them in the battle's crossfire was the primary reason, but also not to tip their hand that the real objective of the second space battle of Earth was the alien air support drones. Along with creating the perfect diversion, it gave the ground forces an edge to take the battle to the aliens with the advantage of having control of the skies.
However, no matter how good or careful the plan, shit will happen in the chaos that is war. Drone 72129 careened right into Pantheon Boarding Team Thebes. Two of Prometheus's Children were killed at once while the other four were thrown willy-nilly into space where another died of their injuries. The remaining three survivors, being fortunate enough that one could fly and determined to complete their mission, continued to their objective. It wasn't as if they had a lot of other choices, given the situation being in the middle of a huge space-battle, with limited life support, and knowing if they activated their beacons, the aliens were just as likely to find them as the good guys. So they went on, behind schedule and hurt from their injuries as well as the pain of losing their team mates and friends, they went on.
Sol system
Third planet from the sun
Sha'leian vessel
Boarding Party Sparta
With more than a little sigh of relief, I stepped into the Sha'leian ship. My crazed, spiked meat-thermometer idea for a pressure gauge worked like a charm. Weyland was able to equalize the pressure without a hitch. The only truly worrying part of the boarding itself was waiting for a sign that our other assault teams had made it and were in position. The second, Team Athens, had checked in right on time sending us the correct flashing light code. Thebes, the third team, had not.
Those minutes we waited for any signs of our missing comrades seemed liked hours. We didn't dare delay too long because that increased the chances of us being found, but once we boarded, all pretense would be gone. Anyone still approaching would be in deep shit when the Sha'leians became aware of our plan. Earth had found out the hard way about the effectiveness of their starship weaponry shooting down missiles, fighters, and our crude spaceships. What they would do to people didn't bear thinking about.
This operation only gave us just so much time that we could wait. In a manner of speaking we had already beaten one hell of a set of long odds. Not one, but two Pantheon teams had made it to our objective. Most didn't think any of us had a chance to make it even this far.
However that was good. Instead of being outnumbered an estimated twenty to one, we were only at ten to one. That was much better, although no one knew how to even begin figuring the probabilities of us taking a warship where we had only a vague idea of the layout. Educated guesses would take us only so far. Audaciousness, daring, and more than a little foolhardiness would have to suffice for the rest.
Talos touched the inner lock, commanding it to open just like he had the outer. He was our secret weapon. While he had that bio-metal skin like that X-Men character Colossus, his real power was to control machines. Unfortunately, it only worked by his touch and stopped working the instant contact was broken.
He couldn't do things like order one of their computers to reprogram themselves or other things that would've been really useful, but what he could do was amazing enough.
We were in.
It was almost comical how all six of us tumbled out of the lock. One of the selection criteria for the boarding parties was being under six feet tall. Most Tweeties appeared to be only about five-foot-five. So yes, I'd changed back to Kingfisher and it was a good thing too. Even with me being below average male height, I had to be careful of the ceiling, or the 'overhead,' as I'm told was the nautical term.
However, I was wondering if anything even vaguely naval applied to this vessel. First of all was the color. In the Navy, everything was painted gray or so it seemed to my mean green army eyes.
The interior of the Sha'leian ship was this bright shade of violet. Maybe it wasn't purple, but trust me the violet was bad enough. It'd been one of the science guys' guesses since they suspected the aliens saw in the Ultraviolet spectrum. However, besides being just a little visually jarring, it wasn't an issue, except with the possible problem of their signage and warnings being invisible to us. Okay, that should be most of us.
“I'm getting repeating alarm like flashes.” Nott reported as we unclipped our safety lines. “Looks like they know we're here.”
Our Mistress of the Night's eyes had no problem with UV or just about anything else in the visual spectrum. Neither would Halcyon for that matter, but seven foot golden women in five foot something corridors just wasn't very practical.
The other surprise we had was the deck layout. Instead of parallel with the length like on a naval ship, their decks were perpendicular to that axis like platforms going up a tree. That was why we tumbled inside like the Keystone cops. We were oriented all wrong as well as packed in tight so we all could fit. So, rather than going forward like had been previously agreed with Team Athens, we were instead going 'up' to where we suspected their 'bridge' was located, while they were going 'down' to engineering.
Talos, our team leader and boarding specialist, glared at the 'hatches' in the overhead and the deck. Needless to say, yes, our unwanted Guest's ride did have all the extras like on-board gravity. If only because of our own experiments with their quantum engines, we knew they could be tweaked to give the sensation of gravity. However, having to climb upwards to advance to our objective was going to be one serious royal pain.
“Well, shit!” He cursed. “This is going to throw all of our preparation and training out the window.”
However, never let it be said that SEAL's were indecisive.
“Weyland, Bes,” He ordered. “Cover the hatches. Artemis, Nott you two have the overhead and deck hatches. Kingfisher, over here.”
“Were there any clues about this?” Talos asked, his eyes taking in every detail.
“None.” I shook my head. “Perhaps it was misinterpretation on our part since a central 'core' was mentioned in more than one story.”
I pointed at the curved bulkhead that was the most inner portion of this ship.
“I'm guessing that's what they were talking about.” Closing my eyes I visualized what it had to look like. “It's like a spine or tree trunk running down the center of this barge.”
“We frakked up.” I summarized, bitterly. “Assumptions making an ass of you and me.”
“Your group wasn't the only one trying to get useful intell data out of what, for all practical purposes, are romantic fiction. However, right now, mission first.” Talos directed. “Recriminations later.”
“Those indentations look like what they use for ladder rungs.” I nodded my agreement with his assessment of blame. “Their bird-like feet probably lets them climb those as easy as we do stairs.”
Our team leader tested the grip of the 'rungs' and evaluated how hard it was going to be climbing. This was complicated by the iris style hatches. There were no handholds or grips near the edge. To pull ourselves up, we would have to open the hatch first for something to hold onto, which meant losing vital time and exposing ourselves to whoever was on top.
All of this examination only took moments, and which was all the time Talos needed to adapt our tactics.
“Can you still fly?” He asked, which wasn't a dumb question. Given the weirdness of how our powers worked, stranger things had happened.
“Yes.” I tucked my legs into the lotus position, just hanging in the air. “Not a problem.”
“Good!” He gestured Bes over. “Here's the plan. You'll boost Bes up through the overhead hatch as Halcyon. You're much tougher that way and although we don't know the thickness between decks, your effectiveness shouldn't be comprised, even if you have to fight on your knees since you can fly.”
“As long as nobody makes a a crack about 'dwarf throwing' I'm good.” Bes glared at the two of us even as he evaluated the top and bottom hatches.
I could see he was trying to get a feel for what to expect. At the same time I had my own orders. Pressing my Q-Box button, all seven foot of me was floating cross-legged in the, if not confined, it was 'tight' space. Staying in the Lotus position kept my long legs from getting in the way.
Lowering myself to the deck, Bes nimbly got onto my shoulders. It didn't take a genius to see what he was thinking. Just maybe I'd stopped going spastic about most of the 'girl' stuff, but that did not mean I liked some of the 'attention' I got.
“Hey,” I warned. “As long as there's no mention of the 'View up here,' you won't hear a word from me about dwarfs except with the greatest respect.”
I think I heard him muttering something about being short, but not bloody blind.
“What was that?” I asked, couching down preparing to stand.
“I said, I'm ready.” Bes coughed.
“Oh. All righty then.” Smiling, I set myself like a runner in the blocks.
Talos took his whips from their holsters. Well, really not classical whips, but they were really more like bicycle chains with swivels and other dodads that let him use his power through them. They doubled his reach and were deadly as hell, given Weyland had hammered it out of that alien alloy everyone seemed to be calling orichalcum.
The damn stuff was about impossible work after it'd 'cured' but it could be done. As a matter of fact, I was suspecting he was the one Sheila had commissioned to make my locket. However, Talos' whips were anything but jewelry. The damn multi-jointed construction had razor like blades that could pop out as if it already wasn't enough like a chain saw. On the other hand, he could also delicately pick up a glass of water and drink using them too.
He wasn't the wasn't the only Weyland had crafted weaponry for either. Artemis carried so many of these finger length throwing blades I think they very effectively doubled as armor.
Bes had a pair of knuckle dusters made from the same stuff, while Nott was wearing these articulated gauntlet vambrace-like glove things that protected her hands and lower arms. Her specialty wasn't hand to hand fighting, so our friendly blacksmith instead provided her with protection. But just in case she did have to defend herself, they made as formidable a set of hand to hand weapons as Bes's brass knuckles, and yet were so finely made they barely hindered her at all.
As for Weyland himself, he'd 'recycled' the gear we used to get into the airlock. It was now a pair of stout metal clubs that he could form instantly into just about any form he desired, even if they were only only terrestrial composition. His power let him harden them to levels that were competitive with anything we'd seen from the Sha'leians. It was just too damn bad he was just one man and that were only so many hours in a day.
I think I was the only one who wasn't carrying something made by him. Well, except my locket which really wasn't a weapon or shield. Then again maybe it was, because having it certainly helped me face the uncertainty that lay in front of us.
Talos's left whip extended to the overhead hatch. It was show time!
“On three.” He warned.
The 'lens' of the hatch snapped open and I stood up waiting only a split second to feel that Bes had left the good ship Halcyon. Then I flew the rest of the way in.
“Bloody hell!” My pint sized teammate cursed as no less than four Sha'leians were all over him looking like a bizarre Loony-Toons version of Karate Kid. Using their arms for balance their very intimidating taloned feet were scything out like knives. Okay, maybe more like machetes, given the damn things were near eight inches long.
He snatched at one foot and threw the owner into the others as his Skins sealed over the cut it'd delivered. That was right before he got kicked like a soccer ball. Bouncing, bounding, he got his legs underneath him just before hitting the bulkhead. Kicking off of it, he cannonballed right back into them.
Then it was my turn as more of the ship's crew boiled out of the other hatches leading into the compartment. Glancing down at Talos, the rest of the Spartan Team had their own problems as they got hit too. Our retreat got cut off as Talos had to defend himself and the hatch closed.
Like Bes had discovered, our Skins only gave just so much protection from those damn claws. I caught a glimpse of it turning quick-silver bright just before I got sliced across my 'mountains' which hurt like crazy let me tell you!
Like out of some martial arts movie, they never got in each other's way. The coordinated twirling dance of razors gave me this very strange image of Thai kick-boxers and the Radio City Rockettes. It was really a good thing I was Halcyon.
My 'cut' healed up faster than even my Skins, with my golden skin flowing back over the incision like a liquid. Reversing my flight, I almost caught one behind me, as I snagged the clawed foot of another heading for my face. It made a dandy club to beat the rest with.
In seconds, my Skins were perforated in a half-dozen places and I had to procure another 'club' since my first went limp. Lightning fast, I grabbed Bes's arm before he smacked into me, and sent him back the way he came.
“Thanks Mate!” I think he said, but it might've been something else less complimentary. It was Bes after all.
Whatever, preconceptions I held of our Visitors being silly looking 'Tweety' birds were gone. That was replaced by something like how much I liked fighting a pack of velociraptors in a closet. I'd just finished doing the Bam-Bam thing from the Flintstones by repeatedly bouncing my opponent off the floor and ceiling a few times while Bes had one in a headlock with yet another in a leg-scissors.
“Need any help with that?” I inquired, after making sure my unconscious foe wasn't going to be a problem anytime soon.
“I think.” White scar marks on his face where his helmet had been shattered were fading as he grunted. “I've got this.”
Apparently Sha'leians needed blood flow to their heads too as they weakly fought back as he tightened his grip.
And, no, we didn't just kill them all. Someone had to show us how to operate this ship after we take it. That was my argument, however much everyone else's opinion was to kill them all and toss what was left out the airlock. If the average person, freezing to death in this alien made Fimbulwinter, would cheerfully tear and rend each and every one of the unconscious figures laying on the deck, the Special Ops community tended to be even more bloodthirsty if in a very icy manner. Too often they, we, were the first to see the results of the alien robots' drops on our world and cities. So many dead and now the ones responsible were helpless before us.
I removed our prisoners equipment belts and zip tied them while Bes took care of his opponents. Maybe I do think too much because I was thinking of the next battle. If we slaughter this crew, including, Tash, Ralt, and Kzon, then the next vessel will be seeking redress and revenge, as well as knowing they could expect no quarter from us. Someone had to if not stop the fighting, to try and moderate the bloodletting.
Two would not be needing my attentions, as between my pure strength and Bes's own plus his knuckle-dusters, something had killed them. Well, they had tried to kill us so I couldn't feel guilty, but I was finding that fighting our enemies face to face wasn't the same as smashing endless tides of robots.
Securing our prisoners took only seconds. Like everything else, Talos and our trainers made us practice every detail including the little details like being able to zip-tie limp bodies quickly.
Of course that left us with another problem. The hatches had shut behind our assailants, and so had the one we'd come through. Bes examined the deck-hatch and, like me, wondered what the hell we were going to do. It lacked any kind of handhold or grip for leverage and fit so finely it was damn near one piece.
We both grinned in relief as the hatch rang with 'Shave and a Haircut' from someone banging on it from the other side.
“And Five Bob.” Bes grinned, as he hammered out the reply.
Talos's face, when he opened the hatch, was anything but smiling. From the blood, human and Sha'leian alike, it'd been one hell of a fight. Unlike with Bes and I, there weren't any alien survivors. On the other hand, Talos, Artemis, and Weyland were all melee combat specialists armed with sharp pointy things. The last, Nott, was more defensive, being able to blind our opponents.
In short it'd been a slaughter.
“Okay, change of plans.” Talos reached up for us to help him up. “Nott will blind the other side of the overhead-hatch and then we'll toss Bes and Artemis up. Halcyon has a long enough reach to cover the deck and the starboard hatches. Weyland will cover the port side, which will leave me holding the line of retreat open for the entry team.
After pulling everyone up we got into position. This time we had some idea of what to expect when we 'divided' our party. The moment Bes and Artemis were up, and Nott dropped her darkness, all the hatches opened at once. However, this time they tried something a little different. A fusillade of energy beams shot out!
Thankfully they weren't our unfriendly Visitor's usual plasma burners. They appeared to be a kind of ball lightning taser-like weapon. The missed shots spattered and hissed as they impacted the wall. Realizing they weren't light speed weapons, I smacked as many as I could out the air to cover my team mates.
Like against their claws, our Skins didn't do squat protecting us from these things. However, after being electrocuted so many times over the past month the 'balls of lightning' only stung a little. The faint fading sparkles suggested that the 'charge' was suspended in some kind of material that disintegrated after striking.
Nott threw up her darkness in front of Weyland's hatch. That absolute black drank up anything that had light and energy, even plasma burners. All that exited was these puffball-like things that were harmless.
Moving to completely block the access way to cover Talos who couldn't move because he was the one keeping the hatch open for our entry team of Bes and Artemis, I soaked up as much of the energy as I could.
Apparently this was all being coordinated, and controlled from someone who knew that shooting energy at me was an losing proposition. Nott and I had stopped this volley of theirs cold.
I saw movement through the open hatch, probably preparation for another assault following their taser attack. They must've changed their minds since the hatches zipped shut. And no, I wasn't about to pull a Han Solo and go charging in. That was just a bad idea.
This time though, we didn't need to pause to reorganize. Talos gave terse gestures for us to advance, with me pulling rearguard. Which made sense because I was tough enough to take just about anything the defending crew could dish out.
Weyland tapped me on my shoulder letting me know he was clear and I was the last one out. Still flying cross-legged like some demented genie who'd forgotten his carpet, I backed up and out of the compartment.
Talos released his 'control' on that portal and, as soon as I was in position to cover my assigned areas again, immediately opened the next overhead hatch. It'd taken us longer than it should have to get our ducks in a row, and that gave our 'hosts' time to plan welcoming parties. That was the price of having such limited intelligence and of the short time to train, not only for the mission, but as a team.
However, now we had gotten our feet under us and were making real progress. You would think I would know better than to tempt fate than to think things like that. We were about where our best guesses said their control room should be. The plan was to completely clear the next deck. We were kinda forced to do things this way since we seriously lacked the manpower to completely clear each deck as we advanced. Missing Team Thebes hurt in more ways than one.
Bes and Artemis had no sooner entered the overhead hatch than they were calling for reinforcements.
“Twenty plus hostiles!” Artemis reported, her hands a blur as her knives flew.
At the same time, the hatches at our level opened, and a hail of more taser balls came whizzing out again.
“Nott!” Talos commanded. “Blackout our level and get everyone up!”
He had already flipped himself up to the next level and was keeping the way open with one of his whips while using the other to help the entry team. Then thing went black as Nott did as ordered. I'd learned that not even Halcyon could see in that 'night' my team mate created.
It took some willpower to stay still, waiting for her to guide me out. I knew I would be last since she knew I was resistant to that 'ball' lightning and besides I'd been doing the rearguard thing.
On the other hand, just about nothing energy wise could get through that darkness of hers either. I felt a few warm impacts from the 'puffs' of the de-energized tasers, but that was all. Well, maybe, I was understating the power of those weapons because for shipborne use they seemed practical. You really didn't want something that could blow holes out into the cold, hard, unfriendly vacuum of space.
Her hands guided mine to the rim of the open overhead hatch, and then I was in the light again. Truth to my words, Weyland was doing the 220 dance after being tagged by one of those taser spheres. I threw myself between him and the rest of the volley while trying to work out the situation.
This room was painted in violet too, but also with shades of white. It was also much larger with rows of couches and equipment. Bes was right about the twenty plus, but didn't go anywhere near high enough. There were about twenty of those stations in this compartment, but the hatches were open to the others on this level too that showed more of those same couches.
Did I mention the horde of Sha'leian defenders taking cover behind them as they poured their fire into us from all directions? Those damn taser things were splashing and crackling all over the place. We had found their command center alright, but not the one we were looking for. This wasn't where they controlled their ship, but instead their robot and drones. That also meant these all suckers were their soldiers.
Oh joy.
Nott, taking in the scene, put up her darkness to cover our rear from that group, while I dragged Weyland behind cover. He was still alive, but I got the feeling they were using lethal charges.
“Halcyon!” Our leader ordered. “Hold that hatch, Nott has blacked out.”
“Nott,” He continued. “Put your darkness in the far rear of the group facing us so they can't provide supporting fire to the front line.”
Then he and Bes, with Artemis for fire support, charged into them. Meanwhile, I had my own problems. The defenders on the other side of my assigned hatch seeing that Nott had thwarted their fire, decided to advance.
Rushing forward I crashed into them. Being so damn big in comparison to the scale of this ship I was able to force them back and mostly block the whole passage. Seeing it was me they stopped with the tasers and began advancing again in that velociraptor high step.
As much as they could only come at me a few at a time, they were so damn coordinated that they rarely got in each others way. It was a steady freaking stream of brightly colored bird-like aliens with talons as sharp as a thought trying their best to slice me to bits.
Managing to lay hands on one, I temporarily cleared the way in front of me. Using one as a club again, the others skittered away. Once they were clear, the hatch tried to shut on top of me. Orichalcum is some really tough stuff, however, if you were strong enough it could be bent. I'd been taking one heck of a zapping with all the taser fire they'd been throwing around. I was very charged up, as well as being very strong to begin with.
The near impervious metal creaked and groaned as I fought the door's grasp. Managing to get my feet under me, I pushed. The metal tore and the entire hatch's frame deformed.
“Thou shall not pass.” I announced, stealing a line from Tolkien. The slices in my Skins were sealing shut as I glared at the fifteen or so Sha'leians who were still standing as they backed off.
Time with Tash and Ralt had taught me to read our enemies' faces. The ones before me clearly showed their shock. It was far past time to end this.
“You know who we are.” I told them. “You know who I am and that we will not stop while breath remains in us. As dire as your people's situation is, you know that humanity's is just as desperate. Enough have died. It is time to talk.
“Now.” I might not be able to stand, given the low overhead, but though kneeling I was still proud and held myself up like the metal I appeared to made of. They had to know that my words held steel and that I meant every one of them. We were Quantum Warriors.
“We will talk.” Was the reply that sounded all over the ship. It was over.
Sol system
Sha'leian starship
in orbit about the third planet
Of course it wasn't that easy. Talos and Athena, our two team leaders, weren't diplomats. They were there to take the invaders ship by force or by unconditional surrender. Rather reasonably, the Sha'leians would not do that without some assurances they wouldn't be kicked out of their own airlocks.
On top of those problems, there were the practical considerations that as many as 60% of the Sha'leian crew had been killed or wounded. Prometheus’s children hadn't gotten away unharmed either. Weyland had gotten shocked real bad, and Talos had been caught in a nasty crossfire too. Bio-metallic or not he'd taken enough shots to light up a not so small town. That put Bes as our team commander.
Athena had causalities on her team as well. She had one outright dead, with two others about in the same shape as our two. You just don't get up and walk away from a severe electrical shock. Well, except for maybe me and Bes.
That didn't change the fact that we didn't have enough effective troops for even one team. Athena and what was left of her team weren't moving from the engine room. That had been what had really stopped the fight. Her people had the power and know how to wreck this barge which, incidentally, probably would kill us all. It appeared that fighting to the death was a human thing.
However, after assigning Nott to tend to our wounded, that left only Bes, Artemis, and me. The odds didn't get any better after opening communications with dear old planet Earth. They too demanded unconditional surrender, but as unhappy as our hosts were they weren't stupid.
Us crazy monkey boys might be capable of scuttling their ship, but they could do the old self-destruct thing too. The best interim agreement that could be managed was all fighting on and about Earth stopped while they and their wounded would move to the boat bay while still holding the bridge. That would let both sides treat their causalities until something better could be arranged.
Then fate threw in a monkey wrench. It seemed Team Thebes weren't all dead. Hurt and late, but at least some of them were still alive. Unfortunately it was not in the Sha'leian's best interests to let yet more invaders onboard, we logically would need to make concessions.
That wasn't happening. The politicians now stepped in demanding their say. They wanted the ship and crew. It didn't take a genius to see they were catering to the mob who were busily sharpening their guillotines and executioners' axes.
Hammer Hobbs wasn't happy about any of it, but he passed along the directive that we were to force the issue and bring our wounded comrades aboard. That put us in a serious bind. The three of us, plus Nott and the wounded, were watching some one hundred aliens.
The obvious response was to send me by myself to the rescue. The thing was, they were hurt and it wasn't a good idea to be dragging them all over the outside of the ship. The Sha'leians still had weapons' control and were still steadfastly refusing to let them aboard till an agreement had been reached.
“That's a little cold of them.” I said. “But it fits in with what we know of their psychology. You know that, 'The good of the many over the needs of the few thing.'”
Bes's reply wasn't repeatable. I did get a suspicious glare from him. Although most were dead, there had been some few humans who welcomed our Guests. Mother Earth had too many people who had defiled her and all of that. Needless to say that, when survival became a necessity and resources became hard to come by, they got left out.
“Hate them all you want.” Sighing, I looked at them seated in front of their saucers in the boat bay. “Just remember this is not the end. There are more, lots more of, if not them, other races still out there and we have no idea of who else those SOB's sold Voyager's information to. Massacring every alien you see isn't going to get us anything, but a bad reputation and probably nuked from orbit as dangerous to the 'neighborhood.'”
“But it would be so personally satisfying.” Bes grunted and gave me a very hard look. “That's why I'm happy that's someone else's problem. It's above both of our pay grades.”
“Someone has got to look to the future.” I shrugged, ignoring his pointed insinuation that it wasn't my problem either. It was too bad I didn't feel that way. I was raised the old fashioned way. If you weren't part of the solution, you were a part of the problem. In other words, things weren't going to fix themselves, so go out and do something about it. That was easier said than done, and I was only human, but it just wasn't in me to 'just' follow orders. There was a good reason why I'd only spent one tour in the Army all those years ago. It took an alien invasion to make me re-up after all.
“I'd rather look to how to save our three mates out on the hull.” His glower at me didn't let up.
“If someone will help me, I can open the locks.” Talos volunteered. “I can't move very fast, but with assistance I can use my power to override the computer.”
He did not look good. With his metal hide, our leader had taken a hell of beating from those tasers. His insides were still flesh and blood which does not like being fried with electricity.
Bes looked me and Artemis. Here in the boat bay, I, Halcyon, could actually stand. It didn't take a genius to see I would be more effective if left here. There was also the fact I had a rapport with several of the our enemies at a time when we were trying to negotiate.
However, I could also be useful helping Talos being large enough to fly while carrying him wherever we needed to go. That would leave him watching the boat bay since Artemis was our only other cross-trained medic. Like it or not, size does matter because, as Archimedes stated, proper leverage could move the world. He would have a harder time covering the bay and as much as he might hate to admit it, he was more vulnerable to their weapons.
Maybe they didn't slow him up much, but he didn't get a 'power up' like I did neither. It was also true that I was just more intimidating than him. That was balanced by his distrust of me. I suspected that, like nearly everyone on the whole damn planet, he'd lost too many loved ones, comrades, and friends to the Sha'leians. He had just one use for them and that didn't involve them continuing to breathe.
Still, he had only one real choice.
“Artemis you're with me and Talos to rescue our Thebes mates.” Our acting team leader ordered. “Nott, if it goes balls up, protect the wounded.
“Halcyon you're on guard here.” He grinned fiercely. “If they try anything at all, paste their feathered arses.”
Watching the hatch close behind them, I sighed. The Hammer and I had actually discussed this. He was a professional soldier who had a very firm understanding of history. We both could see the possibilities if the boarding teams actually got this far.
However, there was also this thing about obeying civilian authority. It was a check and balance that was meant to keep us from falling into the military coup and problems that plagued so many other nations.
For me to do as I contemplated, there were words for it, and none of them were complementary. Turning from the hatch, I sighed. There really wasn't any choice. Well, at least Sheila would know where to find me.
Stepping towards my enemies, I waited till one came forward. I wasn't surprised to recognize Ralt. More correctly it was four of them which included Tash and Kzon. They never said so, but I saw now that they were family as Sha'leians counted them.
“Quantum Warrior.” Ralt greeted me with his open palm salute as did the others.
“Ralt, Tash, and Kzon.” I returned the gesture and gave them a short bow. “I apologize, but I don't know your titles or your companion's name.
“It is Potal.” He replied. “I wish we could've met under different circumstances.”
The other Sha'leians were outright staring and I'm pretty sure my team mates were too. Let 'em look. The prosecution would need witnesses for my Court Martial.
“As do I.” Taking a moment to compose myself, I continued. “In exchange for promising not to self-destruct this vessel or take any more military or any kind of actions against Earth, can you, will you, take your people and go?”
“You mean to leave us nothing more than the boats, so far from our home?” He asked.
“Am I right in saying they would be enough for you to reach your other vessels we know that must be close?” I riposted.
“You would be correct.” He gave a sigh of his own. “It now makes sense why you undertook such desperate measures. How did you know?”
“Guesstimates.” Shrugging, I knew we didn't have that much time. “We knew approximately when our probe had been found and when you arrived. Your own actions spoke of urgency as you pushed up your timetable.
“But my question is will you abandon this ship and leave?” I added my urgency to my words. “Make your decision quickly. Our window of opportunity is not very large.”
“And our base on your moon?” Tash asked.
“You of course would be allowed to pickup any of your people there.” I replied. “But activity there must stop as well. Too many things that are truly unforgivable have passed between your people and mine. The best any of us can hope for is that, if we meet again in the future, enough time has passed to heal some of those wounds.”
They turned to face the rest of their crew who'd been raptly watching us. Their own tongue was rather bird like, but not completely. By groups they began making this kinda open armed gesture.
“We agree.” Ralt spoke for them all.
“Then get them moving.” I tried not to shout. “We don't have much time.”
He said a word and they all rushed to grab their wounded and take them inside their boats.
“Halcyon” Nott called. “What are you doing?”
“I'm stopping this war.” Replying, I still kept my eyes on the Sha'leians. “You heard the politicians. They're looking for bodies to feed to the mob. Every one of these aliens is guilty, but killing them will only bring more death upon us.”
“And if they lied and mean to destroy this ship and Earth anyway?” She asked.
“I don't think they think that way.” That was my hope. “Their minds don't work that way, I think. The hell of it is, if not for their desperation in finding a world like theirs, I think we could've been great friends. I very much doubt that will ever happen now.”
“You think.” She answered coldly. Nott, like us all, had lost someone. “They'll court-martial you and throw away the key.”
“More than likely.” I agreed. “But that is better than to have Earth tear this crew apart limb from limb and then have several thousand more Sha'lenians show up with blood in their eyes. Thank you, but no. Just these few damn near conquered our asses.
“More,” I breathed, disgusted with being human for the moment. “If any of them were truly interested in ending the bloodshed, they could've offered exactly what I did. Instead they were more concerned about having their names attached to 'our' victory and bringing our invaders to justice. Have to ensure next years' election, don't you know.” My sarcasm knew no bounds.
“Do you think that is fair?” Nott asked. “Many of them have lost those they care about too.”
“Perhaps not.” I breathed out. “But this isn't the time for revenge either. I lost my entire family with the exception of my brother, who is Gawd only knows where. Someone has to stop this and stop it now.
“They wouldn't be here at all unless they were desperate.” Most of them were in their 'boats' now, but Ralt and his group were approaching. “So are we. Things are bad enough that it'll take everything we've got to just to survive. Our poor planet is going to need time and a lot of care to recover. Dragging this out would only distract from that and help no one.”
“We are ready.” Ralt stated, but he then hesitated, asking. “Why are you doing this? Your people won't be pleased by your actions.”
“No, they won't.” I sighed. “But it is the right thing to do.”
He bowed his head as if in deep thought.
“Computer.” He ordered. “Do you acknowledge my authority to transfer command?”
“Affirmative.” A voice answered, seemingly out of the air right beside us.
“Then on my authority, Halcyon is the commander of this vessel.” Ralt commanded. “Additionally the 'deed' to Earth is hereby transferred back to its inhabitants, with her named as the principle agent responsible. Please provide a hard copy with all the pertinent details in each of the planet's major languages.”
I didn't have to look at Nott to know she was gaping just like I was.
“Because it's the right thing to do.” My friend said. Then he and his family boarded the saucer waiting for them.
“Computer, please assist in helping Bes and his team in helping the wounded aboard.” I sorta kinda found my voice as I watched the saucer hover outside, picking up the 'bridge' personnel as they left the ship to us humans.
Then it turned and headed off into the dark between worlds. I watched till it was gone, just another point of light among many.
“Second Star to the right, and straight on 'til morning.” I softly quoted, J.M. Barrie's Peter. “Goodbye, my friends.”
New discoveries have given evidence that 'inflation,' the Big Bang theory, is correct. Signs of Gravitational waves predicted by Albert Einstein's Theory of Relativity have, for the first time, been seen.
Being able to have proof of these theories suggests that the multi-universe is also real, since many of the 'inflation' models support the creations of the 'many worlds.' If true, then the universe really is a more marvelous place than we could ever imagine. After all, who is to say what is real or not, when all possibilities are possible somewhere.
Arkham Containment Zone
Spring Equinox
Grey turned the van, his 'war wagon' to the right, slowly onto College Street. He didn't know what he was expecting. For all he knew there might still be left over zombies, demons or worse. His inner wolf was spooked, growling softly that Arkham, Massachusetts was not a good place to be.
He was made acutely uncomfortable by the 'bad' vibes as well. Years before, the college town been first evacuated due to the plague of undead and then again later to a rampage of demons. Wisely, very few returned before the last and final invasion by unspeakable eldritch horrors. Many who weren't killed were driven insane in the end. No one returned after that, turning the small city into a ghost town. According to his wolf, that phrase applied in more ways than one. However, if he was correct, it was here that the Golem Master had his lair.
It couldn't be denied the place was creepy as hell. Despite decades of unfriendly Massachusetts weather, the place looked as if everyone simply left yesterday. Okay, perhaps way, way yesterday, given the all vintage vehicles scattered about, but he would've expected them to to be rusted wrecks rather than appear freshly abandoned. Instead it was as if the whole town was some kind of enormous time capsule. He almost expected to see the old theater marquee advertizing Fred MacMurray in 'The Absent Minded Professor' to light up to attract customers.
Given the terrifying events that not only happened, but kept recurring, it was no wonder his wolf sensed something was horribly 'wrong' about this place. Even with that warning, he felt the unease that had kept people from returning to this place for over a half century.
Consulting his map, he carefully kept track of possible obstacles if he had to leave in a hurry. Normally, he wouldn't be taking his van, which was his mobile headquarters, this close to the action. He preferred to leave it parked further out of the way and to make his approach on foot. This time, that just wasn't practical. Besides, he had a feeling if he had to leave, speed would be of the essence.
In theory, the Mystics Guild had official sanction to ward and watch over this little piece of Hell on Earth, specifically to ensure that 'undesirables' didn't set up shop here. On the other hand, despite those wards, every few years some group of young idiots would dare each other to enter the 'town' limits and somehow find a way in.
And just about every time the local mage had go looking for the bodies. Sometimes the fools were even found alive if needing therapy for the rest of their lives. The internet had been full of, not just cautionary tales, but outright dire warnings.
The problem was that this was where his leads were pointing. He'd spent the last three months tracking down the clues. Even on Valentines, he spent the whole day in a place nearly as unnerving as Arkham.
Boston Township, Ohio was known as Helltown. Although he didn't find anything, but a group of insane Satanists looking for the portal to Hell, it was one heck of a way to spend a day meant for lovers.
Not that it mattered, since the only 'woman' on his mind was a living golden statue who wasn't what she seemed. To say it was complicated, would be an enormous understatement, but she had saved his life even if she had kicked his ass. Even with his accelerated healing from his wolf, his arm still ached from time to time. Broken bones sucked.
So here he was, searching a town where so many supernatural disasters had occurred that its name was synonymous with asylums and mental health facilities. However, he felt as if time was running out. Today was the Spring Equinox which had, according to his Mystic Guild contacts, considerable magical significance. Unfortunately, they were of the opinion that if it was a serious threat, the Golem Master would wait till the Fall, or more likely the Winter Solstice, when the darker magics were more potent.
Grey knew he wasn't a master of the mystical arts. The wolf spirit that chose him turned his life topsy turvy, but it also gave him entry into a world invisible to the common man. However, his metamorphosis gave him the chance to make a difference as well.
Perhaps that was why he was committed to helping 'her.' Grey understood some of what Craig Elder had to have gone through. Just crossing the gender divide alone would've been enough, but the rest of what she endured was beyond the pale. If only a fraction of what he'd read about the process used to 'create' those golems was true, he couldn't imagine how anyone could've stayed sane.
Crossing Garrison Street, Miskatonic University was visible on the right. The snow covered ground hid whatever plant life had overgrown the abandoned campus. He damn near expected to see students strolling about, despite knowing it been many years since any had dared walk those grounds.
Finding a place to hide his van, Grey ventured out onto the campus. He knew the Mystic's Guild had vetted that no one was here, but it was also very true that Misktonic University at one time had a very extensive library on the supernatural. It made far too much sense for a researcher like the Golem Master to take up residence nearby, particularly since Grey could find no indications just what had happened to that collection of materials. The Guild would neither confirm nor deny anything.
However, he had come across a vital clue, although it might be a long shot. It explained not only what happened to that collection, but where the man known as the Golem Master had been hiding all these years.
Benjamin Rava had attended this school as well as teaching as a professor here in back in the thirties before World War Two, but had not returned after his enlistment was up. As part of the Monuments Men Program assigned to identify and protect archeological treasures from vindictive acts by Nazi Germany, he'd unfortunately had seen first hand the horrors of 'Holocaust.' The final nail in the coffin of his sanity had been finding so many of his own family among the victims of the Holocaust.
The relevant facts were that he'd spent many years here and if he regarded any place as home, this was it. The topping on the cake was a mention that the Dean's residence was particularly well appointed, including a very spacious library. The Guild would know to watch Miskatonic U's library like a hawk, but would they do the same to a residence merely near the campus?
He settled his gear more comfortably on his shoulders. If he had to make a guess, he would also say that keeping an eye on this place was far down the Guild's to-do list. Probably only lower skilled or even apprentices did the surveillance sweeps. Certainly the one mage he met, who was supposed to be keeping watch here, didn't impress him very much. It seemed to him that they trusted their wards far too much. It was important to remember that Golem Master had more than a passing familiarity with enchantments. If anyone could bypass such protections it was his quarry.
Using all of his skills, he weaved in and out of the maze of buildings without leaving a sign of his passing. Grey hadn't expected to find any indications of trespassing on the university's grounds, but he believed in being thorough.
Fairly confident that nothing recent had happened at the University proper, he began working his way west. The Dean's residence was listed as being on the corner of Crane and West Street across from the campus.
However, he did take the precaution of assembling his crossbow. The much modified Barnett compound crossbow had plenty of stopping power and was quick to re-cock. With a four quarrel revolving drum, he could make four shots a minute. That might seem slow in relation to historical Saracen archers who could shoot fast enough to have three arrows in the air simultaneously while English long-bowmen were expected to 'loose' ten aimed shots a minute.
The difference was his 'bolts' could be loaded with all kinds of very wicked stuff just for 'creatures of the night.' The central penetrator of silver plated steel had a 'collar' of spikes in the thick hollow shaft made of cold iron, ash, and other materials with mystic properties, as well as even a crystal ampule of holy water. If the bolt failed to pierce the target, a piston slammed forward by the impact would drive the spikes home. Grey wasn't certain what effect, if any, they would have on the Golem Master's creations, but they weren't going to be his target.
He had no qualms about putting a half-foot of silver through the old bastard's chest. Even the Bureau had a deadly force authorized stamp on the Golem Master's wanted poster. Too many heroes and villains alike had been tortured to death at the madman's hands, and that wasn't taking into account all the civilians he'd murdered.
On a more practical level, it was perhaps the only way to free Craig Elder and all the others who'd been enslaved. Grey's research turned up inconclusive as to whether the 'shells' that held those spirits for so long would simply disintegrate or would live on. Given their bodies were used to create those golem things, their spirits were all that remained. The final death would be a kindness.
On the other hand, they weren't true golems or even undead, even if those shells did have bits of their old bodies in them. They were a mix of things that were unique in and of themselves. Whatever else you wanted to call the evil old bastard, he was still a genius.
Woodsmoke?
His keen senses identified the smell although a search of the skyline revealed nothing. Taking note of the wind direction, Grey nodded to himself as he saw the odor came from the same area as his objective. Perhaps some spell kept him from seeing the smoke, but the nose knew.
On full alert, he very carefully approached the not so small house. He well remembered how easily he'd been spotted at the Hawkmoon museum. This was not the time to leave anything to chance.
The abode was more along the lines of an in town mansion from the early nineteen hundreds. Like the rest of Arkham, it had suspiciously withstood the Massachusetts's brutal weather astonishingly well all of these years.
Sitting hidden in the shadows, he considered how to deal with this problem. The smart thing would be to go for help from the big guns. However, that might be a problem unless he had proof the Golem Master was here. At the minimum he needed a snapshot of one of the golems or, better yet, one of the old bastard himself.
Grey couldn't discount his increasingly uneasiness as the exact moment of the Equinox ticked closer either. His gut and wolf were telling him in no non-sense terms, something bad was coming.
What he knew of magic said the experts were right. The spring equinox was not the right time to casting powerful black magic. Then again, his quarry was in a league by himself. Geniuses knew when the rules could be broken. Grey had a feeling this was going to be one of those times, and worst, it was going to be bad.
The decision was taken from his hands. The door opened. One by one the golems walked down the stairs. Unfortunately there weren't just the Six the Golem Master was usually seen with, but almost two dozen. They were in just about every metal and material you could think of and then some: Bright copper to even one that looked to be made of an enormous crystal. Each seemed to embrace the feminine ideal even if it differed from living statue to statue.
They were carrying a variety of boxes and other gear, but what grabbed his attention was the bound and struggling figure of a young woman. Dressed in only a cheer-leading uniform, the girl was hopelessly outmatched. Following her was the Golem Master. Dressed for the cold out of some 1930's movie, he ignored the panicked woman's doomed efforts to free herself.
Grey didn't dare to even curse under his breath as he took pictures of it all. As carefully as possible, he retreated. Putting a building between him and the procession, he sent the pictures over a nearly impossible to detect frequency back to his van. From there it would be relayed by the van's more powerful transmitter to the Bureau and the Mystic's Guild.
Stowing his surveillance equipment, he readied his combat gear. His stomach felt like an icy stone. There was just no way in hell he could rescue that girl. If he saw the opportunity, he would of course take it, but Grey knew for dead certain that at least half of those golems could kick his ass all by their lonesome without a problem. As long as even one golem kept the girl under watch, both she and he were out of luck.
About the only thing he could do was kill her before the ritual called for it. Feeling sick, and hoping that someone, anyone could get here in time, he knew it would be a kindness since he would be quick. Given that the sacrifice's soul was often devoured or destroyed in the process it might be the best thing he could do. It would, however, haunt him for the rest of his life. He knew which of the two possible targets he would prefer.
Carefully, he shadowed the procession as it moved west down Crane Street. Keeping his distance, he saw them dogleg north and then back south. His 'bad' feelings were vibrating like a tuning fork as the villain, golems and sacrifice entered an old iron gate that a historic plaque named Hangman's Hill.
The wooded rise really wasn't much of a hill, but his wolf wasn't happy at all. Tail between the legs and putting as much distance as he could between this place and him, kind of unhappy, his wolf whimpered at him.
As they disappeared into the trees, his task got both harder and easier. Thanks to his wolf, his woodcraft was exceptional, but he would also be forced to get closer to keep them in sight. Grey had no doubts that, if caught, the Golem Master would make certain he was dead this time.
His bad feeling turned into a reality as he spotted the stone altar atop the hill. By the time he'd worked his way stealthy up through the trees, the assembled golems had marked out a pentagram about said altar, as well as putting candles and other supernatural paraphernalia into place.
Grey had no idea of what they were up to, but he was determined to throw a wrench into the works. His eye for the terrain picked out a very nice place that would give him a great shot at the master of ceremonies. A glance at the time confirmed that they were timing this for the exact moment of the equinox where day and night were precisely balanced.
“Come my dears!” The madman's voice carried clearly across the hilltop. “Time is growing short.”
Grey couldn't see where the golems changed their steady working pace. What he didn't miss was the six sculptured statues which didn't take part of the perpetration. Lapis Lazuli, Ebony, Kaspit, Emerald, Ruby, and Topaz. The Mad Scholar tended to name his creations after their hair colors rather than their body compositions.
Not that it mattered. As powerful as those six were, he could call them whatever the hell he wanted. They was as powerful as any Class A Team from the Protection Bureau and were completely devoted to that old bastard.
With them on guard duty, that meant there was no way in hell for Grey to rescue that girl. Even if the entire New York City branch of the Bureau showed up, he doubted if the acknowledged most powerful superhero outfit in the western hemisphere could save the girl.
That was without factoring in the other eighteen golems. He still kept hoping the heroes, someone, anyone would show up. Setting up his crossbow's bi-pod, Grey carefully shielded the scope so there would be no reflection to give him away. It seemed there was only him to save the day.
He took note of the swaying trees judging the wind. Perhaps he wasn't a sniper, but he was a good shot, plus his wolf gave him a preternatural awareness of the world and his surroundings. Grey would only have the one shot. If he missed, it was doubtful he would get another.
The woman was bound to the altar even as she cried, begged, for mercy. The golems gave her none. Unsurprisingly, the madman didn't even spare her cries a glance. The old bastard was too busy setting up his books and scrolls as if preparing for a lecture.
If only Grey had a decent shot, but with the Six along that was not to be. Like the Secret Service with the President, they protected him with their bodies.
“Hear me!” The Mad Scholar shouted to the heavens. “Today neither the Light nor the Darkness rule. Both are equal which means both are weak.
“I despise them!” Despite his age, his voice boomed. “Everyone I loved died at the hands of those who embraced the Dark, but it was the Light that let them die. I reject them both!
“Before I die, I will see all who bear the blood of my family on their hands dead!” Golem Master broke an old stone tablet with a thunderous crack and threw the pieces into the pentagram. The candles flared as they ignited, the wards burning with power. Five of the Six each walked to a point of the five pointed star, leaving Lapis Lazuli standing there with her master.
Grey took deep breaths to oxygenate himself, preparing for the shot. He guessed that was the tablet that'd been stolen from the Hawkmoon. However, the thing hidden within it appeared to be a spot of pure darkness. It ate the light, leaving nothing behind, not a reflection nor a shadow.
His alarm and dread spiked, but he just didn't have a decent shot yet. The Golden woman that'd save his life blocked his view. Like every hunter he knew the value of patience, but this something else again. For this to work it would have to be an instant death. An head shot was complicated by the skull which was designed by evolution to protect the brain. The chest wasn't much better with the rib cage, but he would take what he could get.
Lapis Lazuli still mostly blocked the shot, but when that sacrificial knife began to descend Grey would take the shot anyway and damn the odds. He'd breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he had no view at all of the victim. Plan 'B' was by far his preference.
It was harder to stick to that plan when the baddie began speaking a tongue that had never come from the throat of a human. The sound actually caused pain, a knife that tore at the senses.
Timing was of the utmost importance in these things, he schooled himself. That was what he had to disrupt. Even if he failed to kill that lunatic, he had a good chance of screwing up whatever this elaborate ceremony was supposed to accomplish. That did not keep him from looking skyward, praying for assistance.
His wolf whimpered as that spot of darkness grew to the size of a not so small truck. Or a gate, Grey swallowed. Oh this was so not good. He forced himself to relax. The moment was coming.
“I summon the Hunger!” The old man shouted at the growing circle of darkness. “I summon the Void. I summon the Nothingness that devours all!”
“The whole world is guilty.” Declared the mad scholar. “Let it pay!”
“Bring forth the ravaging horde from the darkest stars.” The Golem Master spat in hate. “Let their cursed hunger devour all!”
“By the life blood of this innocent, I open the door so that justice may be done!” Raising the blade high above his head, the former scholar took no notice of the lunacy of the context of his statement.
Grey slowly breathed out. The shot had to be made in that magic moment between breaths when the body was still. He was only barely aware that the bolt had left his weapon, but he knew it would hit true.
Feverishly, he ratcheted the lever re-cocking his weapon while he watched what the assembled golems would do.
Like striking lightning, Lapis Lazuli moved snatching the bolt out of the air. Her movement crossed the boundaries breaking the pentagram. The magical barrier dropped, but the blackness of the summoned gate remained.
Designed to split apart on impact so at least one of the penetrators could have an opportunity to strike pass whatever mystical or mundane defenses the target might have, the bolt had separated. All the golden skinned golem held was the rear half of the bolt.
“Oh dear.” Golem Master looked at the ruined pentagram and then at the spreading red stain on his wool and tweed coat over his heart.
The mad alchemist held onto the golden statue as he slumped to the frozen ground. However, it was the the other five of the Six that gathered about the madman that had Grey's attention. They weren't swarming after him like he expected, but they were obviously in a defensive formation about their fallen master just the same.
The question was what the hell to do now?
Not being attacked was good, but that damn black gate was there. From what little he knew, the frakking thing should've gone away after summoning had been interrupted and the pentagram had been broken. However, it was still there and yes his wolf was still whining that running far away from it was a very good idea.
But Grey was a hero damn it.
There was a girl over there surrounded by inhuman creations, while an old insane maniac bled out in front of her. Even as he put his gear aside, he knew this was a bad idea, but it was also the right thing to do. Anything that could be thought of as a weapon, was left behind. It also helped he was not attired as Grey Wolf the hero. His clothing and gear were the same featureless black fatigues used by military and SWAT teams all over the world.
Slowly he rose, as nonthreatening as possible. Twenty-four pairs of gemstone eyes locked onto him. If he'd really been a wolf instead of just hosting the spirit of one, his tail would've been firmly between his legs. Then, possibly the bravest thing he'd ever done, Grey walked up that snow covered hill.
Grey Wolf and Lapis Lazuli's story is finally told in this final part of 'The End of the World!'
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
The closer Grey got to that looming, dark disk up on the hilltop, the more he wished that the Mystics Guild would get their heads out of their posteriors and get their asses here right now. After all, this was their stated purpose to prevent things like this, and here the bastard had been, right under their damn noses. As little respect he had for the Guild at the moment, Grey was fully aware of how under qualified he was to handle this.
Reaching the top, he took the most round about path he could to avoid the fallen scholar and that gate. Grey was relieved that none of that son of a bitch's blood had made it into that blackness.
“You think you've won?” The madman rasped weakly, blood upon his lips, but still alive. “Justice will prevail. The guilty will be punished.”
Cold shocks ran through him. The madman yet lived.
“That war ended more than a half century ago.” Grey replied, with exaggerated evenness. It wouldn't do to aggravate the lunatic. “Nazi Germany is long gone. The guilty have mostly all died because of one reason or the other. The few that are left are more interested in hiding than in taking over the world.”
“Everyone is guilty.” Blood ran down his mouth. “There are no innocents.”
“Shh.” Grey calmed the terrified girl as he reached her side. “I'm here to help.”
“Don't blame your sins on everyone else.” He knew his advice to her was their only chance at walking out of here alive. Two words from the madman would be all it would take. “You were a professor here before the war. If you tried, you could've gotten your family out ahead of the war, but you were estranged from them. Your metal-smith father saw your craftsmanship talent and disagreed with your desire of becoming an archeologist.
“On the other hand, nobody at that point really knew how bad the Nazis truly were.” Grey worked at the knots, not daring to use a knife and risk the golems taking action. “Even those who did know wanted to deny that anyone would do such evil to other people. It was only in the liberation of the concentration camps that the truth really became known.”
“No.” Rattled out of the dying man's throat. “What happened can never be excused or forgotten. All must pay.”
“Nothing excuses what you've done and it certainly was not justice.” Grey's anger crept forward. “You've caused so much heartache and pain. Sure, some of your victims deserved their deaths, but more than a few others did not.”
His eyes were on the golden woman who'd saved him as he released the girl. The old murder was still in her metal arms. More blood had seeped onto her, running down her metallic skin onto the snow, turning it red.
“What's your name?” Grey asked the girl, helping her up off the stone slab.
“Claire.” She whispered, shaking like a leaf.
“Okay Claire.” He told her gently. “This is what's going to happen. We're going stroll down the hill nice and slow so as not to startle all these ladies. Alright?”
She nodded jerkily.
“You haven't won.” It was more wheeze than threatening.
“One step at a time.” He told the girl, holding her up.
“From hell's heart I stab at thee.” Blood bubbled from the the dying man's lips as he quoted from 'Moby Dick.' “For hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.”
His hair standing on end, Grey turned at the hacking cough. The old madman had spat a mouthful of blood at the gate. It had fallen short, but was slowly running down the altar's blood groove.
Shivers ran through him as the bloody spittle instead of freezing on the cold rock channel like it should. It flowed down the carved slot as if drawn by that ominous Gate. He jerked forward to stop it, but halted when every golem snapped to attention staring at him like missiles with lock-ons.
Knowing he couldn't fight them, he tried moving more slowly, but they still reacted aggressively taking a step toward him. That was not a good thing.
As the lunatic began a gurgling laugh, they had only one option. As fast as he dared, they went down the hill.
“What's wrong?” She asked, not daring to even think about turning her head.
“He managed to get some of his blood close to that thing.” Grey spoke as he marked out where he left his gear. He'd mapped out an escape route from there and had a sinking feeling they were going to need it.
“When we get out of sight.” He instructed. “We're going to pick up my gear, and then run like hell is at our heels to my van. Unfortunately it is a few blocks away. I didn't know I would have company on the way out of here.”
“I don't know if his blood will work or not.” Grey spoke his thoughts. “He damn sure isn't an innocent and that is what he promised whatever he summoned. However, let's not stick around to find out.”
Clinging to him, she nodded her agreement again.
Picking up his pack and crossbow on the run, he started to explain to Claire about their escape route when the scream interrupted him.
Back on the hilltop, one of the golems was shrieking while two others had fallen to their knees. Another looked to be crying, while the one who'd saved his life looked skyward as if she hadn't seen it before. The rest simply stood there, immobile as they had been before. It didn't take a genius to figure that the Golem Master had finally died, breaking his hold on his creations.
It also didn't take a brainiac to see most of them were, at the very least, broken. Grey, however saw an opportunity.
“Lapis Lazuli!” He yelled. “Stop his blood from reaching ...”
A ringing peal of thunder knocked them from their feet as the Darkness roiled like water in a boiling pot.
“Aww hell.” Grey cussed, struggling back to his feet. He had a glimpse of a tidal wave of teeth and claws come charging out of the darkness. That was enough for him.
“Run” He hissed to Claire leading them into the trees where they couldn't be seen. An explosion of screeches and shrill screams shook the hillside.
She needed no encouragement, as she bolted through the trees like a scared rabbit. He would be damn lucky to save the cheerleader and himself. To hell with saving the world.
“Lapis Lazuli!” Her name was called. “Stop his blood from reaching ...”
She felt like such the fool and an idiot, but she couldn't help herself. The moment that evil sonofabitch had died, the bonds on her had disappeared. The chains on her very essence and soul were just gone.
Maybe she didn't have a beating heart or need to breathe, but it caused whatever she did have to skip a beat and to inhale in surprise and shock. It was wonderful and yet terrible all at once. She was free. After thirty years, the shackles were gone.
Her eyes turned skyward, stinging with tears she didn't know this body could produce. Next to her Ebony was weeping with body shaking sobs while Emerald held herself as she screamed, both of them finally able to express their soul deep agony.
Two others, Kokab and Levana, collapsed to their knees, like puppets with their strings cut.
Even with her speed, Lapis had barely begun turning as she pushed the Bastard's corpse away. The drop of bloody spittle had vanished into the pitch black disk.
The blackness, impossibly, began to ripple as it was a curtain and a riot of movement was happening behind it. Then, starting where the bloody drop disappeared, reality 'tore' as a horde of creatures charged through.
The other automatons, which she guessed must've been truly dead or so far gone it didn't matter, reacted as the wave of screeching, toothed and clawed monsters came near the Bastard's cadaver. Obeying their last orders, they defended it.
It was hard to make out a single shape in the mass of death that swarmed at them. The best she could do was compare them to the extinct 'terror birds' that had ruled the prehistoric Americas. Standing at about five feet tall they had short wings, but more than made up for that with a wicked toothed beak and talons from hell.
She didn't need to be a tactical genius to know this was a fight she couldn't win. There were too many of the bird-like demons and, although each golem was powerful, they were also fighting as individuals. As she watched an automata was literally taken apart by the clawed horde like by a school of piranhas, so quickly the construct didn't have time to repair itself.
Ebony, still fighting her shock from being freed, stared in confusion, while Emerald had stopped her screaming, looking about also in befuddlement. Kokab and Levana were starting to come to themselves, but far too slowly.
“Get Emerald!” She yelled at Ebony who, as one of the Six, was near her. I'll get the other two.”
The stark black feminine sculpture stared at her in incomprehension for a second before nodding.
“We'll meet at the Bastard's house!” Lapis leaped into the air, using her flight to boost her over the sea of snapping razor sharp teeth.
Ebony fired off a blast of her darkness that acted as solid as any battering ram, smashing the demon birds aside. Grabbing Emerald, the black automata took a running jump down the hillside.
Landing Lapis crushed one demon bird's skull in a golden hand. She noticed that, whatever the bones of these things were made of, it was extraordinarily strong. Good, so was she. A clawed foot sliced into her, but as another tried to take advantage and widen the already healing metal she had for flesh, she snatched the talon out of the air throwing it into the mass of demons still erupting from the gate.
Scooping up Kokab who had come to her senses enough to dodge the attacks coming at her, Lapis snagged the arctic white form of Levana who'd also begun defending herself.
“Hey!” Exclaimed the speedster automaton named for the Jewish word for Mercury. “What the hell is going on!”
“We're getting the hell out of Dodge!” Lapis replied, launching herself into the cold sky.
“Levana?” She asked, the automata named 'white' in Jewish. “Are you alright?”
“I think so.” Replied the white figure dangling beneath her. “That name. I had another name.”
“We all did.” Lapis sighed. Was there anything such as therapy for displaced souls trapped within magical constructs? “The Golem Master killed all of us and used our spirits to animate these 'bodies.'”
“I, I, remember.” The quick-silver bright Kokab stuttered with a whimper. “The pain.”
“Stay with us.” Lapis ordered. “The sonfabitch is dead, but he released those damn things before he bled out. Maybe I couldn't do much to him while he was alive, but I sure as hell can mess up what he had planned since he's dead.
“Besides.” She added, “I think I was once a hero.”
“I think I was too.” Levana said, as she looked back at the hill that was fast blackening with bird demons.
“Not me.” Kobab whispered. “I was a thief. I think, maybe. Everything is so jumbled up.”
“That doesn't matter.” The white automata replied back. “Only who you are now.”
“And who is that?” The silvery feminine magical construct retorted. “So many of my memories are so mixed up or just gone. I don't know who or what I am.”
“How about just someone who is pissed off.” Lapis suggested. “And is more than ready for a little payback?”
“I guess that will work.” Kobab nodded hesitantly. “Where are we going now?”
“Back to the mansion.” She answered. “We have to meet Ebony and Emerald there, plus I have to go inside for something important. Besides, while that SOB might have preferred to keep us naked, sculpture or not I want clothes. He had stuff there when he wanted us in costume.”
There was quiet as all recalled 'why' he usually wanted them dressed up.
“Eww.” Kobab made a face. “Now 'that' I wish I didn't remember.”
“All of us were helpless.” Lapis told them both. “That's part of what I'm going to take care of now.”
They landed outside the old Dean's house. Neither Ebony, nor the man she believed to be Grey Wolf, had made it down the hill yet, but they could see the invading demons progress because of the rapidly disappearing forest. The hilltop was now bare and they could see the line of falling trees.
“We better make it fast.” Levana inclined her head at the sight. “They're going to be here quick.”
She and Lapis had to steady themselves as Kobab was abruptly gone in a blur of motion.
“Okay,” The white automata raised her crystalline blue eyebrows. “That was fast. Quicksilver for a speedster. That makes sense.”
“The Bastard tried to match the bodies he made fit the powers of those he used to animate them.” Lapis bitterly explained. “Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. The ones that it did received the 'honor' of being his tools of choice.”
Her tone made it damned clear that term was anything, but a compliment.
“I take it that Kobab and I weren't counted among as his successes?” Levana asked, lightly running up the stairs despite being made of metal.
“No.” Lapis shook her head. “His speed was always his greatest advantage, but not so much as an offensive ability. As an automaton, she is stronger and much more resistant to harm, but without that creative spark that made him such a pain in the ass as a villain, she really wasn't that effective.”
“I take it that applied to me as well.” She walked through the door Kobab had left open.
“Yeah.” The golden woman sighed. “He believed he'd refined his 'process' so he could capture what made you such an impressive fighter. Which in a way worked, because he could command you to perform nearly perfect kata's all day long.”
“But again, without that creative spark as you called it, something was missing.” Levana finished for her, nodding understanding.
“Exactly.” Lapis agreed. “He wanted unquestioning obedient slaves, but he also desired the special skills that put those he chose in a class by themselves.”
“Not realizing that imprisoning the soul made the other impossible.” The martial artist continued.
“More like ripping it to pieces, burning it to ash and then pouring molten metal over what was left,” Lapis replied, with pain in her heart. She remembered all too well the torture that had trapped her sense of self away in the deepest, darkest corner of her consciousness.
“A mad man.” Levana shook her head at her own memories. “But a genius all the same. I can't believe this body of metal seems to be just as responsive and alive as I used to be.”
“You do know that it's freezing outside and we're essentially naked, right?” Lapis recovered some of her humor. She kept quiet about being 'too' sensitive in certain places.
“Yes,” She agreed. “But I also feel alive. Real or not I can feel my heart beating and the air going in and out of my lungs.”
“Find some clothes and get dressed.” Lapis chided gently. “We're all shell-shocked, but we really don't have time. Not right now. Try not to think about the past, but focus on what needs to be done now.”
“You are, of course, correct.” Levana agreed. “My focus is all over the place and that's abnormal for me.”
“None of this is normal.” The golden automata called over her shoulder. “However, we survived while the others did not. Let's not throw that away.”
Getting to the basement and the Bastard's working rooms wasn't hard. Any wards and protections that didn't go down with his death were keyed to her and the other automatons anyway.
No, it was the next part that was the toughie. It was made all that much more difficult by the absolute lack of time. Passing by the tables, runic circles, and shelves full of artifacts, she decided to try the most straight forward method first.
The vault was a not so small bank safe that, for whatever reason, was installed in Misktonic University's Dean's residence. This being Arkham she hated to even try and guess why. The thing was about the size of a walk-in closet or small bathroom. It was also magically warded and protected up the yin-yang because that was where the SOB kept the things he truly wanted secure.
She sighed, finding it closed and locked. Unfortunately this was one of the few secrets of his she didn't know. After listening to him monologue for more than thirty years she figured she knew damn near as much as he did about most things.
The door was specifically designed to fit as seamlessly as possible. Gritting her teeth, Lapis dug her fingers into the hardened steel. There was a squeal of protesting metal and then the very foundation the safe was mounted upon creaked and groaned.
Sparks flew as the disturbed magical wards had their say. However, her power sucked up that energy and added to her own with scarcely a thought. Unluckily for the wards, once that power reacted to her, it created a link, she used it to drain them as dead as the proverbial doornail.
Forcing a corner of the safe door down, she grasped the safe's frame, warping it even more to free the door's bolts holding the thing closed. It was as messy as tearing open a plastic sealed package used to be for her in the days before she'd been murdered and transformed into her current self.
Knowing that madman's insanity all too well, she prepared herself for one last booby-trap. Wrenching the heavy door open, it went off, probably with the intention of not only killing the would be burglar, but to destroy the contents as well.
Years ago, before her murder, Lapis wouldn't had been able to prevent that. Now, however, with her golden body being such a perfect conductor, she absorbed the blast like a sponge, leaving not so much as a single ember behind.
She knew exactly what she was looking for. Often she'd been called on to move the heavy padded box to his workroom. This caution made her open the box first. Inside in carefully fitted slots were fifteen hand-sized stone disks that were covered in symbols and writings. In three other of the slots were only a piles of dust. As she watched another of the stones crumbled before her eyes.
There weren't any time left at all.
Closing the lid, she rushed out as fast as she could.
Grey was impressed. Claire had run like a frightened deer through the snowy woods and only now was starting to show signs of slowing. Of course, the shrill screams of the monsters behind them probably helped keep her going.
He'd managed to slip another bolt into his crossbow and re-secure his weapons so they were where he needed them to be. However, make no mistake. If he had to fight these things, he was dead. There were simply too damn many of them.
Additionally, even with the head start, the horde was gaining on them. Sure he could move considerably faster than Claire, but he wouldn't, couldn't, abandon her. Hearing what sounded like a runaway freight train behind them he bought his weapon around.
The stark black form of Ebony and the metallic, electric blue of one of the other golems wasn't what he was expecting. Made of polished ebony wood even her hair was black, gleaming like obsidian strands. What stood out the most was her striking amethyst eyes.
The other one had brilliant emerald eyes and her hair was more of those strands that looked like a wave of scintillating green. Against the deepest blue he'd ever seen, her 'skin,' she was striking as hell. However, it was obvious to his eye that she wasn't 'holding' things together as well as Ebony. Her movements weren't as sure of themselves and there was a certain spooked wildness in her green eyes.
She and he jumped as Ebony scooped up Claire just like a running back, snagging a fumble.
“Come on Crossbow Boy.” The black golem urged as she passed him. “If you don't step up the pace you're going to be bird feed for sure. That just won't do because we owe you big time.”
Grey grinned. Okay, maybe he would live through this after all.
“Oh relax.” Ebony lifted the cheerleader in a fireman's carry. “We don't work for that guy any more. William Tell over there took care of that problem in spades.”
“Well, then.” He grinned at the blue girl as they ran. “Let's make tracks. You can call me Grey.”
“I'm Emerald.” She replied, not noticing the exertion at all. “I think. That's the only name I remember, although I'm sure there used to be another.”
“Don't worry about that right now.” He advised, pushing himself harder. “You've all had one hell of a shock and deserve all the help that you can get. However, like usual, we've got a situation here.”
“That's about par for the course.” Emerald hesitantly returned his smile. “This sort of thing seems to go with being a hero.”
That didn't keep Grey from seeing the shadow that passed over her face. Lapis Lazuli and Ebony appeared more mentally intact than these others. Damned if he knew why, but if this disaster was as bad as it appeared, then the world would need all the help it could get.
“When my wolf spirit first bonded with me, I thought I was going crazy.” He let his wolf guide him through the woods. If there was anything his spirit wanted to do right now, it was get as far from those things as it could. Besides, it helped distract him from the realization that, somewhere along the way, some of the golems had become people. Their faces had expressions and character instead of the blank lifelessness of statues.
“I couldn't tell which memories were mine or if they were my spirit's.” His feet ate up the ground breaking out of the woods onto the edges of Arkham. “At times I didn't know if I was wolf or human, however I learned a trick.”
Crossing Boundary Street they ran down Church Street, taking the opportunity of the mostly clear terrain to speed up to a full run.
“Focus on the now.” Grey said, between breaths. “Who you are at heart will come through in the form of your actions. In time, with those new memories, the old ones will be easier to put into context.”
“Easier said than done.” She looked behind them. “They have almost reached the edge of the woods.”
“It always is.” He agreed, glancing back too. Black, ominous, swirling storm clouds were forming over the hilltop. The woods, that had once hidden the crest of the hill, were now gone, completely obliterated by the hoard of onrushing velociraptor-like demon things.
“Faster it is.” Sprinting, Grey ran full out for the three figures standing outside the Dean's house. Unless they knew something he didn't, shouldn't they all be running?
“You want me to do what?” The man she knew had to be Grey Wolf exclaimed.
She'd breathed out in relief as she saw that Ebony and he had joined up and were coming right to her. That gave her a little time to sort through the pile of clothes Kobab had rushed out to them.
With distaste, she'd moved the maid's costume to one side. It wasn't the fact it was so feminine that put her off, but because it represented all the long decades she'd spent as that Bastard's slave. However, the others weren't much of an improvement. Occasionally he had them dress up to recreate some social event such as the holidays, but usually it was for sex. There were way too many schoolgirl outfits and outright fetish stuff, even if it was badly out of date.
Maybe the styles she knew best were from the seventies and early eighties, but the Betty Page look was so not her. She couldn't even say what her 'look' was. She'd once been male, but like so many other things that'd been years ago. Her every gesture and movement were feminine, and had been so for as long as her scrambled memories could recall.
Rummaging around, she found an outfit he'd intended for them to wear during archeological digs. The riding beeches styled pants, loose blouse, and short jacket would work, she decided. The jacket would make her bust a little less prominent and made her feel a bit more comfortable. Footwear was unneeded and besides, they didn't have time for that anyway. Besides the whole point was for them to feel more like people and less like things and shoes weren't required for that. She'd spent most of her childhood barefoot.
“These are our key, or perhaps heart stones, is a better word.” Lapis felt much better facing this man, clothed as well as more confident. “The ones I've taken out belong to those of us who have awakened since that Bastard died. The others however, are still following their last instructions and are defending his dead body. Four have already been destroyed, their stones turning to dust. That leaves eleven powerful resources that only you, because you're still flesh and blood, can bind those stones.”
“No.” She sighed, watching another one disintegrate into dust. “And then there were ten.”
The cheerleader started to say something.
“No.” Lapis cut her off. “I trust that Grey Wolf, after this is over, will do the right thing. He kept his word and more. You, we don't know.”
“He saved us.” Ebony nodded, “I don't know if this is the right thing or not, but you better make up your mind fast. Here they come.”
“Crap!” The man cursed, very unhappy about having to make this choice. “Okay, what do I do?”
“Prick your finger enough so you bleed, and leave some blood on each one.” Lapis directed, looking at the first demons running towards them. Did the freaking things have any other speed other than an all out run, she wondered.
He glared at her his distaste at this plain to see. Making a shallow cut on his thumb, he pressed it on the first stone in the case she held.
“Ouch!” He jerked his hand away. “You didn't say the damned thing would shock me!”
“That's the magic binding the stone to you.” Lapis held up the box for him to continue. “Quick, do the others!”
He gave her the 'stink' eye, but quickly mashed his thumb onto the other stones before dancing back, shaking his hand from the pain.
Ow, ow, ow!” He managed to hold his hand still as Kobab appeared out of nowhere to put a bandage on his cut.
Then in a blur she was gone again.
“Now can we get out of here?” He was watching the lead line of demon-bird things go down in a messy crash which explained where the speedster had gone. Even with those short wings and tails to balance themselves, a good push could still over balance them when running. Some of the others behind them did go go down with them in the collision, but most just bounded over the top of the fallen and kept going.
“No.” Touch this one and say, 'Ruby, bring all your sisters to me.' She directed, pointing out the right stone.
“Now touch as many of the others as you can and say, 'Go with Ruby.” Lapis instructed.
“I have big hands.” He spread the aforementioned appendages over the nine stones and followed her instructions again. “I really don't like this, but can we go now?”
Emerald, standing some distance away, raised an arm. Seemingly, a bolt of lightning struck her from that black thunderhead over that Gate, but bounced off of her into the incoming wave of teeth and talons.
Dozens of the tightly packed bodies went down, but the horde barely slowed.
“Yes.” She closed the box after putting hers and the others awakened stones back inside. It was useful to be so quick. “Where is your transportation?”
“This way,” He replied, taking off running.
“Hey!” The cheerleader protested as Ebony picked her up again.
“Don't worry.” The polished wooden woman smiled. “I don't bite.”
“I don't like being treated like baggage.” She pouted.
“Would you prefer to take your chances on foot? Ebony asked, with raised brows. “I think those demons move considerably faster than you can run.”
“No,” The Cheerleader huffed. “This is fine.”
“Couldn't we have left that 'business' for later?” Grey Wolf asked, unhappy about it all.
“No.” Lapis replied. “Almost a third were destroyed to no purpose. It needed to be done before any more were lost.”
“And.” Ebony butted in. “You're a hero. Sure as death and taxes you would've come up with some morally logical reason for not indulging in necromancy.”
“Necromancy!” He almost fell as he tried to stop from a dead run.
“Yeah sure.” The black automata grinned at his shock. “You know blood binding spirits trapped in nefarious devices. However, I can sugarcoat it if you want.”
“There's a bright side to this?” He asked, as they ran past Miskatonic University.
“Oh sure there is.” She cheerfully continued. “None of us have a clue of what happened to those souls whose stones were destroyed. Given what we've seen of this summoning it's possible they were devoured by those demon-birds or whatever they are. You might've saved the mortal remains of those you bound. If you've truly earned the trust Lapis Lazuli has in you, then later under the proper conditions, you'll release them.”
“Okay.” He admitted. “That does make me feel a little better about this.”
Lapis, flying above them, saw the trouble first. Swarming around the corner of Main Street, the wave of demon things filled Garrison Street.
“Watch out!” She warned. “They got ahead of us and are heading right at us down Garrison Street.”
“Crap!” Grey cursed. “My van is off of College on the other side of the University. It has communications gear that should let us get the word out. I notified the Mystics Guild, as well as the Bureau, that something was up, but so far no one has responded.”
“That's the government for you.” Ebony gaily remarked. “Never there when you need them and all underfoot when you most definitely don't want them around.”
“We can cut across the campus.” Grey curved his path towards that way.
“If they have already got as far as Main Street and Garrison, then the odds are good they've already cut across to College Street as well. We'll be surrounded and pinned in the University. I might be able to fly everyone out in time, but then again I might not.”
“Can you fly me to my van while the rest make a run for it?” He asked.
“I think with Kobab and Emerald to cover us we can fight our way clear.” Ebony answered for her. “Levana's hand to hand skills aren't going to do us a lot of good.”
“However, if she'll carry the Cheerleader here, that'll free me to fight.” She looked at the white, metallic martial artist in question.
“I have no problem with that.” Levana answered. “This isn't my kind of fight, but I can easily carry her and keep up with any of you. Well, except for Kobab!” She added, smiling.
“You called?” The quicksilver speedster appeared next to her, with Emerald riding piggyback.
“Yes.” Lapis explained. “We're being surrounded by these bird-demon things, but we need Grey Wolf's van to let someone know about this. As a group you should be able to get clear while we get his van.”
“You know, splitting the group is always a bad idea.” Claire spoke just before Ebony tossed her to Levana.
“And I'm not a football either!” The Cheerleader squealed, objecting as she flew through the air.
Still holding the case, Lapis Lazuli held out a golden hand for him. Grasping hers with both of his in as secure a grip as he could, Grey gave her a nod that he was ready.
His feet left the ground, but rather surprised, he didn't feel as if he was holding his whole weight.
“Don't worry.” She said, with a smile as they climbed above the abandoned university grounds. “My flight field is taking care of a part of your weight and mass.”
“Well, that's handy.” He tried to downplay his and his wolf's uncomfortableness about dangling over thirty feet up and still climbing so they could make it over the top of the university's tall spires.
“There, on the other side of College Street, behind that maintenance shed.” He directed, trying not to think too much about the velocirator demons screaming down the street below them.
“I see it through the trees.” She said. “They haven't reached it yet, but its going to be tight.”
“Worse.” Grey replied, grimly. “They've slowed. Somehow they're in communications and are coordinating with each other. I don't think they have spotted us yet, but I could be wrong.”
“No choice.” She replied. “Just have your keys ready. I'll cover you.”
“I'm ahead of you.” Grey dared to let go with one hand, reaching for his key-less remote. “I can unlock and start the van with this. You can drop me on top of my van. There's a roof hatch.”
“All the options, huh?” She flew in an arc, trying to get as close as she could before being seen.
It was damned obvious when it happened. Everyone of those demons' heads turned and locked on them like missiles.
Clicking the buttons to unlock and start the van, Grey landed with a thump on its roof. Pushing the hatch open, he flipped himself inside. This wasn't the first time he had to make a hurried getaway. With a spray of gravel and snow he roared out onto the street.
With a screech one of the invaders found out that there was a good reason why he named his van the 'war wagon.' The reinforced frame and bumper didn't show a scratch as the demon bounced off, rolling into the street.
In the rear-view he saw one get close enough to swing onto the the back, but a second later was thrown off, left to tumble to a stop in the road. Its mates swarmed in pursuit.
“Emergency dial” Grey commanded his on-board systems. “Bureau of Superhuman Security.”
Lapis Lazuli's head appeared upside down in the roof hatch.
“The boarder has been dealt with.” She reported with a smile.
“This is the Bureau of Superhuman Security emergency response line.” A recorded voice informed them. “What is the nature of your crisis?”
“This is Grey Wolf.” He said aloud, taking the turn as fast as he dared, the tires squealing. “I have a Code Grover's Mill. I say again, I have a Code Grover's Mill. Beachhead is on Hangman's Hill, Arkham Massachusetts. It's a supernatural invasion from a summoning by the Golem Master. He's dead and several of the golems freed from his control are assisting me and a civilian I rescued in our escape.
“Impossible to estimate numbers of man-sized velocirator-like creatures, seen armed only with natural weapons so far.” He took another turn, running down a pack of demons that didn't get out of the way fast enough.
“They should not be underestimated.” He hoped he was getting all the facts across. “Five of the golems have so far been destroyed by the demons in extremely well coordinated attacks. Suspect they have some unknown method of communications able to cover at least several blocks.”
His passenger's sapphire haired head disappeared and the thumps on the roof said she was busy with unwanted guests again. A loud ripping sound tore through the van as a talon cut a long slash in a side panel.
“Be aware their claws can penetrate armored car class armor.” He continued as he sideswiped an abandoned old Ford so closely that the side mirror snapped along with the bird thing trying to use it's can opener claws on his war wagon.
Up ahead he saw an enormous projected hand made of darkness pick up an old Caddy and sling it another group of demons attacking from a side street. That had to be Ebony and the rest of their group.
“I'm gonna slow for them!” He yelled up at Lapi Lazuli.
Emerald loosed another of her redirected lightning bolts, downing another file of the demons, but the mob just kept coming. Kobab was a constant blur, but she too only slowed them up only slightly. That was, however, enough for Levana with Claire to jump inside the van.
The speedster then helped Ebony in while Lapis Lazuli flew Emerald in, landing back on the roof.
“Hold on!” Grey warned.
Smoking the tires, he accelerated hard. It was gratifying to see the damn things recede in the bent mirror that he'd mostly wrestled back into position. Even more relieving was the tumbling forms of the demons that the girls, riding on top, evicted with great prejudice.
“We're heading south down Highway 13 towards Dunwich.” Grey made another report.
“This is the Bureau, Agent White speaking.” He finally got a live person. “What is your situation?”
He repeated his report.
“I hope you guys got some major guns on the way, because you're going to need them. However, like I said, the golems once under the control of the Golem Master are cooperating and helping me. They're friendlies, got me?”
“Acknowledged.” Was the the curt reply.
“I don't think they like us.” Lapis Lazuli remarked, having listened to the whole thing from the overhead hatch.
“Nah!” Ebony laughed. “Really? Just because we kicked all of their asses for the last thirty years while we were that asshole's slaves? You'd think they held a grudge or something.”
“I surmise that all of us are going to have a very difficult time.” Levana added. “We all stand out and our history will work against us.”
“Forget what the law says.” Running effortlessly beside them, although they were pushing over 90 mph, Kobab agreed. “We're guilty until proven otherwise and that's going to be impossible.”
“We did do all those things.” Lapis Lazuli sighed. “I wish to Gawd that I didn't remember those parts. Being older, I've done more of those 'things' than most of you and the others too.”
“Just how did he catch you all anyway?” Grey asked. “When all was said and done he was just a normal.”
“Just a normal.” Ebony laughed. “He was the most dangerous person possible for a super. He was a researcher. Probably took him less than an afternoon for each of us to figure out who we were and where we lived.”
“If that.” Lapis Lazuli snorted. “My memories are still a mess, but I think he drugged the milk I usually had every night before going to bed. That's how he got most of us, by learning our daily routines and finding our weaknesses.”
“My celebration beer for my last heist was mine.” Kobab sighed. “I was so fast I used to snatch the bank bags right out of the armored car guards' hands as they loaded. Downright embarrassing how easily he got me.”
“Towards the end.” Lapis Lazuli recounted, sorrowfully. “When he couldn't find something quickly, he would send us to kidnap his victim. It was another sign, I think, like keeping us naked, that his madness had grown so great he wasn't really human anymore.”
“Not to interrupt your pity party.” Ebony cut in. “But Ruby and her barrel of monkeys have arrived.”
“Barrel of Monkeys?” Grey muttered, wondering, 'What now.'
“Yeah.” Lapis Lazuli explained. “Ruby's power is magnetism, so she could only lift and carry those automatons that are affected by it. However, that is why I had you order the others to go with her, so they would hitch rides.”
“From my count we didn't lose any more, but we've got to get a picture of this.” Ebony giggled. “And please don't tell me I just giggled. This girl thing is bad enough as is. None of the guys in my old gang will ever let me live this down.”
Using the remote surveillance camera in the dome on the war wagon's roof, he finally saw the whole picture.
Ruby, of course, had hair of jeweled ruby strands, while its body was a shiny black probably magnetite from what he knew of the Golem Master's methods. She floated above and behind his van, but was gaining fast. Along with her floated six others, but it was the other four that grabbed his attention. They hung from the others just like the plastic monkeys used to in that old kid's game. Like the golden woman had said, those were non metallic, or at least one looked like a woman shaped diamond.
As haphazard as that appeared, none looked to be in danger of falling. That was an advantage of being a golem he guessed. You don't have muscles to get tired. On the other hand, these others really bought into focus how Lapis Lazuli and the others who kept themselves sane somehow were alive, and these others weren't.
Levana for instance breathed, blinked, and except for being made of something that supposedly was inert, lived. Ruby, however, was as still as a statue. No flaring nostrils as she inhaled or any sign at all that she wasn't a solid construction of black mineral. There was just nothing.
“Quick!” Lapis Lazuli urged. “Tell Ruby to hang back behind and above a hundred feet.”
“Ruby.” He yelled out of the window. “Stay behind us at a hundred up.”
“Will that do?” He asked. There was no way he was going to use the word 'hanging.'
“Oh, it will.” She answered her head reappearing in the hatch as Ebony chuckled.
Even Levana smiled, but Claire grimaced.
“You're going to let her get away with that pun?” The cheerleader asked.
“It's best not to encourage her.” Kobab smiled too. “We have no idea where it might lead.”
“What about to a roadblock?” Claire pointed as they roared passed an old weathered sign displaying Dunwich, Mass, five miles.
Since he had the sensors already active, he rotated the camera around to the front. The magnification revealed a pair of Essex County deputy cruisers blocking the road. But the kicker was the Massachusetts Army National Guard M-113 tracked armored vehicle nestled between them. The thing was armed with a Ma Duce .50 caliber machine gun and would turn even the war wagon into so much Swiss cheese.
There was about a half dozen or so troops and deputies with an assortment of shotguns and assault rifles using the hood and trunks of the cars to brace their weapons.
“Aww Hell.” He cursed as he slowed the van pointing the camera back behind them.
There was a dark line of trouble coming fast on their heels. The range finder estimated the demons' speed at about 30 mph and there were untold numbers of them. It didn't take a genius to see that roadblock wouldn't hold for a single damn second.
“Connect Essex County Sheriff’s department frequency.” He commanded his system. “Deputies blocking Highway 13, I'm Gray Wolf in the van coming from Arkham. Be warned that the bogies fast on our heels are unfriendly and will overwhelm your position. Acknowledge please.” Grey tried to be diplomatic.
“You're not authorized to be on this frequency.” The officious droll voice on the other end replied. You're to come no closer or we will open fire. You understand me? Acknowledge please?” Was added sarcastically.
“We understand.” Grey shot back, disgusted.
“We can take them out real quick like.” Ebony pointed out. “They would never know what hit them.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I never claimed to be a goody two-shoes.” She raised her brows.
“Well,” Grey sighed. “I'm not about to play Red-Shirt and show those assholes how the monsters work. Can Ruby pick up the van with us and all the others too?”
“She should.” Lapis Lazuli nodded. “She once yanked out an entire walk-in safe out of a bank and flew off with it. That weighed tons compared to our few thousand pounds.”
“Good.” He made his decision. “We'll let her lift us up and out of the way while we'll try and help those stupid, sorry, doomed SOB's.”
“Dial, Bureau of Superhuman Security.” He ordered. “This is Grey Wolf.”
This time he got a live person immediately.
“This is Hyperion.” One of the Bureau's heavy hitters asked. “What's your situation?”
“I've got.” He began.
“Two thousand plus hostiles,” Levana helpfully added.
“Moving at approximately 30 mph heading right at a roadblock on Highway 13 about five miles outside of Dunwich.” Grey dryly told. “They've ordered us to halt, but unless they get their asses in gear they'll be demon chow in about ten minutes. Oh, by the way, we're not making any last stands. One of the rescued golems is going to lift us up and out of the way. I figure we can rain down some hurt on the demons, but it's not going to stop them. The Air Force carpet bombing the area might be a solution, but unless things have changed, the damn things were still pouring out of that Gate like ants of a kicked over nest.”
“I understand.” The hero answered. “We are on the way with Mystics Guild representatives. We will try to contact that roadblock. Hyperion out.”
“Well he was certainty a lot of help.” Ebony commented dryly.
“At least someone is taking this half-way serious.” Lapis Lazuli countered.
“They're still far behind the curve of what's needed.” Grey grunted. “Well, they've been warned.”
“Connect with Essex County Sheriff's Department frequency.” He ordered again.
“Dunwich roadblock, this Grey Wolf.” He did his best to keep his tone civil. “Since you've prevented us from seeking safety, we're going to go above what we think is the danger zone. We will provided as much supporting fire for you as we can, but if you're wise you'll bug out. Our best information says these things can make thirty mph, and that 113 of yours is going to be hard pressed to outrun them.”
“You will maintain your present....” The voice began.
“Cut connection.” Grey rolled his eyes. “Ruby, gently use your powers to pick up the van without bouncing the driver or passengers. Then lift us up to your same altitude and hold. If you can, shield us from gunfire coming from the south.”
His war wagon groaned as the weight was released from the shocks and springs as they were lifted into the air.
“I'm not going to be able to do much.” Emerald pointed out, looking out at the dark clouds that were still growing. “Calling the lightning would be a bad thing while I'm here. I can sorta direct it in their general direction by increasing the electrical potential of an area, but it's always more accurate to call it to me and then loose it.”
“Me neither.” Kobab shrugged. “But I don't want to be caught between the demons and that machine gun either. I can throw things pretty accurately, but that's going to be a drop in the bucket.”
“So we save you as our sniper.” Lapis Lazuli suggested. “Concentrate on covering those dumb-asses retreat when they come to their senses.
She turned to Grey.
“I know Wolf has got stuff for her to use.” The sapphire haired woman gave him a look.
“I might.” Grey grinned, as he pulled out a box of his 'wolf claws' throwing stars. “Although I don't know if you can throw these things that far.”
“I can.” The speedster smiled. “It's more about control and how fast you can accelerate them, than strength.”
“You've got a spare crossbow?” Levana asked. “I'm a reasonably good archer.”
“How about a recurve?” He retrieved the bow from its case. “It's a 60 pound pull, but I doubt you will have a problem with it.”
“No problem at all.” She accepted the bow and quiver. “I could've managed it before my incarnation, but now it's even less of an issue.
“I'll be on the roof acting as another sniper.” She swung herself lightly out of the window onto the roof.
“You know.” Claire said, to no one. “Nobody at school is going to believe any of this.”
“Probably not.” Grey replied. “However, you have a part in this too. It's easy for for us shooters to get fixated on our targets. I need for you to keep your eyes open for things like flying demons or groups of them cutting in behind that roadblock.
He watched her face as she looked at the tide of onrushing monsters.
“I can do that.” She whispered.
“Good!” Grey made himself sound cheerful. “Yell out Delta three times to get our attention and point to the trouble. Keep any descriptions as short and to the point as you can, okay?”
“Okay.” The Cheerleader gave him the thumbs up.
“I've talked to Emerald.” Lapis Lazuli and the bright blue girl with the green hair cornered him. “Her lightning won't bother me so I can fly her to where she can do the most good.”
“You two sure?” He grinned, inclining his head at Claire. “We've been cautioned about splitting the party.”
“That's not bad advice.” Emerald laughed, “But we won't be far away. Just enough so you're not in the danger zone.”
“Hey!” The Cheerleader complained. “I heard that!'
“It'll just power me up.” Lapis Lazuli smiled at him.
“That sounds like a plan.” He found himself smiling back. What was it about her that made it so hard to look away? Did he have a thing for tall women? Standing at six-two, Grey was not a little guy. However, she was a good head taller than him, but then again there weren't all that many women who were tall enough for him to find out.
“Before you go.” He kept his sigh to himself. “Open that box up again so I can give the golems some orders.”
Spreading his hands to cover all ten again, he marshaled his thoughts.
“As a group you will respond to Wolf Pack. When that advancing line of demons comes with range, any of you who are able will engage with ranged attacks. You are to pace yourself so you can continue attacking for as long as possible taking care not to injuring anyone with the exception of the foes designated as demons.
“Understand, Wolf Pack?” He asked.
“Yes Master.” All ten chorused.
“ Wolf Pack, I'm to be addressed as Alpha.” Grey winced at the old bastard's title. He was no one's master, doubling his determination to see all of these victims dealt with fairly.
“Understand?” He asked again, feeling his wolf's pleasure at being a pack leader. Down boy! Grey mentally scolded his spirit.
“Yes Alpha.” The ten answered.
“You two know what you do best.” He said, to the woman now closing the box of stones.
“Ready?” Lapis Lazuli asked Emerald.
“Let's go show some demons why you shouldn't go out in a storm.” The blue gold woman gestured to the outside.
Carrying Emerald, Lapis flew past the unawakened automatons. Already a few were attacking the advancing demonic wave. Lasers swept over the front lines from Kaspit, while Topaz rained down exploding fireballs.
There was a good reason why those two had been part of the Six. However, she did wonder about how three of the six had awakened, but only two of the others had. Did somehow being able preserve some part of themselves make them more useful to the Bastard?
“So what's up with you and your boyfriend?” Emerald asked.
“You do realize I'm holding you up a hundred feet up in the air above a field swarming with thousands of demons, right?” Lapis asked, even if the green jewel headed girl did have a good question. What was up between her and Grey Wolf? She couldn't get it out of her mind that he'd had come for her.
“Ooo!” Emerald giggled. “So there is something and you don't want to talk about it.”
“Will you please keep your mind on business?” Lapis complained.
“Standby.” Her companion turned serious. “Brace yourself. Here comes the big one.”
A bolt from the heavens struck them. Way back when she first got her powers, being 'hit' like that would've hurt like hell, even if it wouldn't have killed her. Now, after Levana's term, her 'reincarnation,' as well as years of learning how her power worked, had taught that she had to consciously not suck up all that energy that flowed into Emerald.
“What goes in has to come out!” The blue and green girl spread her hands, sending out a crackling wave of energy that arced from her fingers to their enemies below. Scores went down, but again the demons barely slowed. Some few of the closest tried leaping up at them, but although they came closer than she thought they could, clearing 50 to 60 feet into the air, none reached high enough to touch them.
“I know that I've spent years like this.” Emerald complained. “But my last memories of me are as a man. Now I find myself acting girly and even giggling for Gawd's sake. I take it that our abductor did more than just torturing us to death and turning us into these golem things?”
Others of the Wolf Pack began their attacks. More beams and bursts of different kinds raked the swiftly advancing front.
“Here comes some more.” Emerald warned as lightning struck twice.
Lapis drank deep of the splashed over power. The energy turbocharged her physical body's already considerable prowess, making her stronger, faster, and tougher than any, but a very select few. That was the 'gift' the bastard had given her. Before this reincarnation she was a 'B' rated hero, but all it took was the loss of her humanity and over thirty years of her life, if this counted as life.
“You really don't want to know.” She told the animated lightning rod. “The death of a super-powered hero was only a small part of the evil that went into the making of one of us. We resemble true golems about as much bottle rockets are like Saturn Fives. Superficially, vaguely similar, but not really.”
“Eat your heart out Benny Franklin baby!” Emerald warned again, as yet another bolt engulfed them.
Again, aimed bolts zapped from her hands scything down rows of the demons, but the rushing horde never faltered. Lapis could see no end to the dark tide that seemingly devoured all in their path.
“The very name, golem, means crude and misshapen.” She explained to her blue-gold companion. “We're anything but that. He designed us as carefully as any team of engineers does a jet. In our own way we are as sophisticated as anything those engineers have ever built. When he did make mistakes, it was in having the wrong information or his blind spots.
“Blind spots?” Emerald asked, but warned. “Power on!”
“Let's try something different.” The lightning endowed woman blasted the very old utility poles causing the ancient unused power-lines to fall amidst the demonic host.
Grey Wolf must've seen her plan because he ordered the Wolf Pack to target the other poles that still stood too.
“And now we add some juice!” Emerald exclaimed. “Just like plugging your finger into a light socket!”
“Didn't anyone tell you as a child that was bad?' Lapis asked, as they were hit once more by enough raw electrical power to light up a city.
“No.” Emerald laughed. “Maybe that's how I ended up this way, but honestly I was once a hero. Then I became a supervillainess minion to an insane lunatic. Now, I'm just a pissed off bitch getting some payback!”
The lightning hit the fallen power-lines and surged down them like shaped explosive charges, frying many of the demons packed shoulder to shoulder on the road.
Behind them, they heard the staccato roar of that machine gun from that Army armored personnel carrier. At least the asses hadn't fired on the good guys. Sparing the roadblock a glance, she saw that the county mounties were hightailing it away, fast. The APC was retreating as well, but Lapis could see it wasn't widening its lead. It was a race to see who would win.
Checking on Grey Wolf, he was following the Army machine using the Pack to cover its escape. Turning her attention back to the battlefield, she was grateful these bird-demon things weren't humans. Even with the blustery storm clouds, the stench of death blew strong. Hundreds were dead with more still moving, but hurt. It seemed the only way to stop them was to kill them dead. Anything less only slowed the bird-demons.
That was a problem because they were also damn tough. It took a lot to put one down for the count even for the Wolf Pack. Despite the numbers of dead beneath them, there should've been many more. Just as worrying, was that all the badly injured ones that one would expect to die of their wounds, had secreted some kind of cocoon suggesting these wouldn't be out of action for long.
In the distance, the ground was black, covered with the demon-birds all the way to the horizon. Not a tree nor any other living thing could be seen. With a chill she realized that Bastard might've really done it. Blaming the whole world for the Holocaust, in his insanity, he sought to destroy it, to end everything.
She was well aware of mankind's short comings. For all of the natural disasters that killed thousands, that paled beside the death man dealt to their own kind. Lust for power, intolerance, bigotry, and hatred in all of its forms were ugly, ugly things.
In a lot of ways that was why, as the young man she'd once been, he had put on a mask and tried to make things better. There is no fool like an idealist, but someone had to take a stand. That person had powers and abilities that could, and she would like to think 'did,' make a difference.
Or at least they had before being tortured and sacrificed on the altar of a madman's hatred of Nazis. Now she was broken inside, although far more powerful on the outside. Her own need for revenge had kept her going after awakening from those long decades of hiding like a child from the monster in the dark.
Even now she had kept going only because proof that the Bastard's plan to destroy the world was unfolding right before her eyes. She would not be the person she'd been, the person she was, if she could let that happen without doing everything she could to stop it.
When all was said and done, Lapis was still a heroine.
“You were talking about that SOB's blind spots?” Emerald reminded her, as another lightning bolt thundered away.
“Sure.” She replied. “His ego and madness demanded unquestioning devotion, but we're more than just our powers and abilities. Many of our talents and skills were hard earned, but he couldn't conceive that someone other than he might rise above and beyond themselves.”
“You've got that right.” Emerald loosed another volley of bolts on the downed electrical lines as the horde unwisely continued it's advance. “It's a much an art as physics to convince these oversized electric sparks to go where you want, instead of following the path of least resistance.
“This 'incarnation' of mine can certainly handle a lot more power than I ever could before.” She drew in another of Zeus's legendary weapons for her own use. “And I can pull it in from further away, but inside I feel so disjointed and out of sorts I know I'm not at my best.”
Listening to her companion and nodding because Lapis felt much the same way, she observed that while they had, by brute force, blasted a hole into the 'center' of the demons' advance and the ends were curving around in a classic military envelopment. Plus, those 'wings' looked to have sped up to an all out, sprinting charge.
The sheriff's cruisers would escape, but not that Army APC.
“We've got trouble.” She alerted her passenger as she flew to one of what the Zulu of old would've called one of the 'horns' of the attack as it swept around.
“I see it.” Emerald called more power to herself. “It's a good thing this is a huge storm. Even a thunderstorm has just so much energy and we've been tapping this one like crazy.”
“The Wolf Pack is shifting their targets now too.” Lapis noticed relieved. Not having communications was a liability, but it was something they had to live with for now.
“So, do I need to ask you again about tall, grey, and and handsome?” Emerald 'lit-up' the fresh group of speeding demons.
“Back at that museum last Thanksgiving.” Lapis sighed. “When Grey Wolf discovered us, the Bastard ordered me to defeat the hero and dump his body in the river. So I beat him up until he admitted I defeated him and did just that. I dropped him in the river, but in the shallows.”
“How in hell did you do that?” Emerald asked, awed. “I had times when I was almost awake, but it didn't take me long to want more than anything not to be. I had no freedom of action at all, although I love how you found the loopholes in the old SOB's orders.”
“I don't know.” Lapis admitted. “I was hiding like a whipped pup in the furthest part of my mind because of what he did to me. Something woke me. I was still shackled to the spells on that stone, but I could act on anything not covered by it or his orders, which admittedly wasn't much. The anal retentive Bastard would've been a life long bachelor even if he hadn't gone insane. No one would've willingly put up his crap for very long.”
“So he made us.” Emerald sighed, as she poured more death upon the demon-birds.
“He made us.” The Golden woman repeated, not trying to think of the other ways they were 'used' by him. “I'm sure the Bureau's profilers had some of it right. Golems were a Jewish symbol and some did see them as protectors. However, as much as the Bastard did need the muscle we provided, he also wanted an audience for that humongous ego of his, as well as living out his university professor sexual fantasies.”
Her morbid train of thought was disrupted by a gold and silver spandex blur that crashed into the center of the forward surging horde. Since Emerald and the Pack had turned their attention to the more immediate threat of the 'wings' closing in from the sides, the demons along the road had recovered and were moving again.
“And thus enters the Bureau.” Lapis wanted to be surprised, but just couldn't. The wave of demons flying into the air from the impact simply said it all. No matter that Grey Wolf had warned everyone that these things were not to be taken lightly, The big idjit himself had charged literally right into the middle of the demons.
Hyperion was one of the most powerful supers on the planet. All anyone had to do was ask him. There were those who were stronger, and others who were faster, as well as those who were tougher. However, there were none who were as strong, fast and as invulnerable to harm all in the same package. The same went for his flying, the Hyper-vision, and all the other powers he had. Nobody else came close at having all the powers he had, much less at the level he possessed. There were some who said he had a right to be an arrogant ass, all things considered.
Victrix his Roman demi-goddess team mate had, at least the common sense not to dive into the middle of the ravening legions of demons. Throwing javelins of lightning, she hopelessly tried to support her foolish leader, who was dog-piled by his enemies.
He would shrug off his attackers only to be swept off his feet again as the demons used their claws and outsized talons to rip and tear to such effect they put wood-chippers to shame. In the space of heartbeats his uniform was in tatters, and even he had wounds, if shallow ones. No sooner would he climb to a knee than a scything tail would send him to the ground anew.
Finally realizing he just might be in trouble, he tried to lift off from the prone position. However, he was blind from the press of bodies as well as disoriented from being knocked about. No sooner had he left the ground then a well timed tackle by more demon-birds had him dog-piled again.
Sollarc, his team mate, cut loose with a plasma burst, but he couldn't get too close without hitting his team leader. Victrix attempted to get in closer, but had to batter away determined attacks by supporting leaping demons.
“Okay.” Lapis came out with it. “Grey came for us, me. He didn't give up, but kept at it until he found us and then he put a crossbow bolt through the heart of the monster who'd enslaved us for years. So yes, I feel something even if I'm not sure of what it is.”
“Good.” Emerald smiled up at her. “I wanted to be sure I wasn't the only one who was having feelings I couldn't identify.”
“So shall we go down there and rescue the butt-head?” She asked, not giving Lapis a chance to reply.
“Might as well.” The golden woman sighed. “Sollarc would be so much more effective at cutting their envelopment apart. Can you clear out a circle around him?”
“No problem!” Her passenger replied. “I even have a solution to those leapers. We'll let them hit, but calling a bolt or two to us should clear them off. Since you're holding me, I can grab him. Hope he isn’t bothered by a little juice.” Sparks arced between her outstretched fingers.
“He's a big boy.” Lapis could remember rather energetic confrontations with Hyperion and his team. It wouldn't bother her at all if he was discomforted. “I'm sure he can take it, but first let's give his team mates the heads up so we don't get shot in the back.”
“Victrix.” She shouted, flying to the rescue. “Cover us. We're going in.”
“She speaks?” The Roman styled, armor attired woman looked up at them startled.
“I can also play cards, and drink beer, but please don't paint any velvet paintings of us.” Lapis riposted. “If you would use your point attacks to help out when we hit the ground it'd be greatly appreciated.”
Sollarc in his yellow sunburst marked red power-suit gave his more senior team mate a questioning expression, but Victrix only nodded her approval while preparing more of her javelins for battle.
“Ready Emerald?” Lapis asked, her partner accelerating to her full speed.
“Let's do it.” Emerald answered. “Be aware of power-ups the second we have leapers incoming. Kind of hard for them to change direction in mid-air even if they do have stubby wings.”
“That's fine.” She replied, letting gravity add to their speed. “I'm in the mood for fried chicken.”
It was actually pretty damn amazing to watch. As they got within about 60 feet of the ground, the first demons began their run-ups. If not for the fact she and Emerald were the targets it would nearly a thing of beauty, almost as if choreographed for some Hollywood blockbuster. In a stream of leaping teeth, claws, and talons, death came at them.
And promptly got fried by the incoming bolt from the heavens. One actually took the whole force, exploding before the energy flowed into her blue-gold partner. Not being foolish, Lapis did dodge some of the murderous demons, but there were so many it was impossible to miss them all.
However, it was a lot like the world's biggest bug zapper with Emerald carefully measuring out her accrued energy. As they got closer to the ground yet another 'power-up' hit, blasting more into smoking ruin.
Spreading her hands, the lightning arced in a circle about the mound of demons centered on the not too wise hero. Many were thrown off or, if too close, got cooked in the crackling aura.
Thankfully, plasma rained down by Sollarc kept the endless numbers temporarily at bay, while deadly accurate javelins from Victrix cut down the numbers within that circle of death.
What was left got hurled away as Hyperion fought his way to his feet. She'd long speculated that his uniform top was made of lesser strength material just so in difficult fights he could show off his perfect musculature and six pack abs. That theory gained supporting evidence, since the only attire he had that wasn't shredded to ribbons was his trousers and boots and even they were the worse for wear.
“I knew that rumors of those foul creations achieving freedom and working for the cause of right were false.” He was covered in shallow bleeding cuts from the talons that could slice through plate armor with ease. “I will not go down without a fight, so swears Hyperion!”
“Oh shut up!” Emerald giggled as she let loose with another chain of arcing energy expanding their temporary circle.
“We're here to rescue you, doofus.” Lapis snorted, swooping in so her partner could grab the idjit.
“Huh?” Was the hero's reply as he was lifted out of that abattoir.
“There you have it folks!” Emerald's hand's flashed as more demons rushed at them. “More witty replies from our brave, if not too smart, hero.”
“You're talking!” He exclaimed, kicking a gnawing demon off his leg.
“What part of free did you not understand?” Lapis shot upwards as fast as she dared. “You know, 'Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness,' She quoted.
“You can't talk to me like that!” Hyperion retorted angrily. “Don't you know who I am?”
“Oh, yeah.” Emerald giggled. “We know alright.”
“You're the one who barreled right into an army of demons after being warned they could rip through armor plate.” Lapis answered. “Then we had to come and pull you out after they dog-piled your ass.”
“I'm buying time for that brave Army crew to escape.” He pompously defended himself.
“Then why didn't you just pick the damn thing up and carry it to safety.” Lapis raised an eyebrow. “You're more than strong enough, but speaking of which that still wouldn't be a bad idea.”
Without their fire support help, the demons were right on the APC's tail, but someone had to go and pull the hero's fat out of the fire.
“You can let go, now.” He huffed, unhappily. “I can fly, you know.”
“Be free little birdie!” Emerald released him, giggling again.
He shot over like a bullet to rescue the APC as they followed behind slower still blasting away at the endless horde.
“I can't believe you told him off like that.” Victrix laughed. “The gods must be smiling upon me, granting such great favor.”
“No insult.” Lapis replied. “But if the gods are indeed watching we could use a little more practical help here. Unless we can get a hold on this situation quick we're in real trouble. That mad man intended on destroying the world and he was nothing if not a brilliant researcher.”
“Agreed” Victrix nodded, her star spangled blue cape with Rome's eagle in gold flying in the storm's winds.
Everyone looked overhead as a flight of jets thundered above them heading for Arkham. Moments later the roar of distant explosions reached them.
“That's not going to stop this.” Lapis stated bluntly. “That Gate is going to have to be closed. All the bombs in the world aren't going to stop that.”
“Come.” The heroine beckoned. “It is time to talk and plan.”
“Besides.” Emerald grinned up at Lapis. “As much as I like you. I really am ready to be back on my own two feet again.”
“Well, our ride is leaving without us so we better catch up!” Lapis gestured at the van and the Wolf Pack. “I don't think even Ruby can carry it all day long.”
More jets flew over. Bombs fells from their wings on the tide of demons. It was more, but it still wasn't enough. It wasn't even close. She only hoped Dunwich got evacuated in time, watching the town get engulfed in demons.
They had to get more hands on this thing. At least Victrix had been open minded about their checkered past. She could only hope that others would show more of that tolerance. The world was going to need it.
Grey didn’t have to look over at Lapis Lazuli and her awakened sisters to know they weren't happy. Hell, he wasn't happy either. Hyperion and a Mystic Guild wizard named Sazonox, had basically ignored them during the entire meeting.
The session in the roadhouse bar turned emergency headquarters, had begun with Bladestorm, the Bureau team's stealth specialist making her reconnaissance report of what she found at Arkham and Hangman's hill. She confirmed that the Gate was still open and that the entire hillside was barren of any vegetation as more demons poured out with every second. Pointing out on the map that was spread out on the pool table, she indicated just how far the demons had advanced.
Then he and Claire had been questioned about what they'd witnessed, but the 'girls' had been pointedly left out. It wasn't until Grey himself had asked Lapis to tell what happened that they heard that part of the story.
He did see that, once she began, neither one interrupted. It was morbidly fascinating to hear that all of this was triggered by a Death Camp prison guard that the Golem Master had been after for decades. Hidden, the ex-Nazi was discovered only after he'd died at a ripe old age in his nineties. The proof that his enemies were 'using' death by old age to escape his wrath seemed to have finally broken something that was already thoroughly wrecked.
That incident lead to the top of Hangman's Hill on the Spring Equinox. Well, with a few bypasses like the Hawkmoon museum and getting his arm broken. That thought had him looking at her again. He just couldn't forget the moment he truly saw her. The fire and passion in her so bright, emerald green eyes had burned themselves into his memory.
True, she was as perfect an expression of beauty as any work of art. However, it was the soul within that made her beautiful.
Her catching him staring caused him to blush like he was still in high school. Her own answering coppery bloom made him turn even redder.
Victrix's raised and amused brow didn't help things whatsoever. Perhaps it was her own familiarity with the mythic world that made the Roman demi-goddess so tolerant, but she was one of the few in the room who did.
Grey might've been distracted, but neither he nor his wolf missed the sideways glances that the wizard and his entourage gave the 'box' Lapis Lazuli carried. She'd made it damn plain that she trusted no one at all with it, with the possible exception of Grey. Even her other freed sisters weren't completely within that circle of trust.
Frankly, he absolutely understood and agreed with her paranoia. In the stones that lay within, were the very souls of fifteen superhumans. Possessing those stones would let the unscrupulous control, enslave them. After spending more of her unlife as a slave than she'd spent alive and free, Lapis Lazuli wasn't about to let that happen again.
Even as far as her sisters went, Kobab and Ebony had been super-villains. Zip the speedster had been infamous for his high speed snatch and grabs. He'd been the purse-snatcher of the super-villain world. A thief, yes, but he avoided unduly hurting anyone, and got into fights only when cornered which wasn't easy, considering how damn fast he was. When it had occurred, they learned just how damn good of a fighter he really was. He avoided combat because he wanted to, not because he didn't know how to mix it up.
Black Hand was completely different. He'd worked more as a mercenary than an outright criminal, but only because he carefully picked and chose his employers. An ex-special forces soldier with multiple combat tours in Southeast Asia under his belt, it was rumored he'd learned to project that black energy of his while deep in jungles few dared to venture into. While a gun for hire, he'd been very careful not to give the USA cause to arrest or send him back to those who held grievances against him. He'd been a firm believer in not crapping in his own backyard, not that anyone state-side had been very happy with him.
As far as that went, even Emerald and Levana, who'd been heroes, were vulnerable right now too. The blue-gold lightning slinger, more than the martial artist, given she'd once been male. All someone might have to do is offer a way of giving that back.
Levana, on the other hand, was one of the few females who'd been made into a golem. Grey wondered if that was simply because the guys had the powerful abilities the lunatic wanted, or that he had some other motive that was more perverted.
Both had families and those they'd cared for, before the two were kidnapped and murdered. The files he'd filched last New Years had given only the most basic details, but it'd been many years since then. Their children were grown up and their respective partners had moved on.
No matter how you looked at it, they had all been through so much and it would be so easy to hurt them even more.
And then there was Lapis Lazuli. Somehow she'd stayed more balanced than the others, but he didn't make the mistake of thinking that her tower of strength was limitless. She too had once been male and had also been abused in so many ways that he couldn't even imagine.
And the fate of the world may depend on them.
Air Force drones over the area officially confirmed Bladestorm's report and that despite the bombing, more demons were pouring though with every second. More Air Force planes were on the way, but although an unnamed nearby air base did keep some munitions on hand just because of Arkham's history, even they weren't ready for a war at the drop of a hat.
More heroes were coming too, as the Bureau Of Superhuman Security got their act together. However, they weren't here yet, and the cities of Salem and Boston weren't that far away.
Like the rednecks say, you have to race what you bought to the track. These were the resources at hand and they had no choice but to make do.
“Given what we've been told.” Sazonox announced arrogantly. “I do have a solution. As nonstandard as this summoning appears, I am confident that a previously prepared enchantment will suffice to close this portal.”
One of his entourage unveiled a wooden plaque that was covered in runes and other symbols.
“The Guild has long been aware of the dangers that mystic instability about Arkham and its surrounding environs presented. This charm should disrupt and close that rift permanently, although the pestilence that has already entered our world will have to be dealt with.”
Grey kept his snort away. Only this prick could call several thousand velociraptor like demons a pestilence like they were mere insects. Given the ass's ego he probably saw everyone as bugs.
“We are fortunate to have those who can deliver the charm though to the other side of the portal.” He looked right at Lapis Lazuli.
Who busted out laughing.
“I have a better idea.” She giggled. “Why doesn't Hyperion fly your suicide, one way trip into that Demon's Gate? Then he could show the whole world what a big hero he is.”
“You act as if we're giving you a choice!” Sazonox imperiously gestured, holding out his hand as if reaching for the box she held.
The wizard's face was a study as nothing happened and she erupted into laughter again. This time her four sisters joined her.
Others laughed as well, including Victrix, Sollarc and Bladestorm. It seemed they weren't fans of the Guild either.
Grey couldn't keep his chuckles away either, since he'd noticed Hyperion's surprise as well. So the hero had been in on this. He'd heard rumors that Hyperion just didn't live up to his public persona, but this? It was so obviously petty in return for them having to rescue him from his own foolishness, that he lost whatever respect he used to have for the hero.
“Did you actually expect that to succeed?” Victrix never stopped laughing. “These Amazons have fought all of us to standstills many times in the past and that was when they were shackled to another's will.”
“Please forgive my comrade's foolishness.” The Roman demi-goddess turned to Lapis Lazulia and Grey. “We are in need of your strong arms and shields. Can you be of aid to us in this dire hour?”
“As I was about to add.” Lapis Lazuli's eyes sparkled as she answered. “Or you can provide full pardons for all of us, as well as official acknowledgment that we are people, with all the rights and protections that entails.”
“If I may?” Grey asked to have his say.
Ignoring the sour and hostile looks from her team mate and the Guild-man, Victrix gave him a nod.
“These individuals have done the impossible.” He glared at those who tried to sacrifice them for their own ends. “After years, decades, of having their bodies and wills torn from them, they kept some part of themselves alive. I know only a small bit of what all of them went through and I'm horrified, but amazed and astounded at their survival.
“If anything.” He didn't drop his gaze. “They need care and assistance, as well as the others who appear so badly hurt they act like the robots they look like. However, all are here, ready to defend this country, this world. Please treat them with respect.”
There was silence in the command post except for the radios and other background noise.
He barely kept his disappointment from showing, as particularly the Guild representatives could hardly keep their avarice to themselves. Their greed for what Lapis Lazuli carried in that box made him sick. He'd always known the Guild really wasn't a superhero organization. It was more of one that policed their own, but had their own agenda's. Some did follow the path of the hero, but that wasn't the Guild's mandate. In exchange for keeping the supernatural and other magical 'problems' under some kind of control, the Bureau left the Guild to run its own affairs.
“I want to add.” Lapis Lazuli spoke again. “That's only after we have all of that in writing, with the appropriate seals and guarantees, then we'll sit down and plan out how to close that thing.
'Oh,” She looked the wizard in the eyes. “I know that it requires life essence to cross that 'portal.' The Bastard used us on several occasions regarding gates. We might've been 'made,' but the force that drives us is the same thing that gives life to all living things. I am aware of the laws in respect to creations that such as we might be considered.”
“For decades.” Ebony shook her mass of black hair. “We involuntarily served one of the smartest, craziest Sonsofbitches on this planet. During about half of that time, he treated us as his students, right up to having us dress as schoolgirls. Like it or not, we've listened to endless lectures on alchemy, summoning, and other things that rated 'X' doesn't even come close to covering. So don't think for an instant that you can use techno-babble or magical mumbo jumbo to pull the wool over our eyes. The odds are we know more about it than you do!”
The dark, polished, wooden woman crossed her arms defiantly.
“That is why we're worth those pardons and exceptions to the existing laws, even if by the spirit of those same laws, we're exempt from them anyways.” Emerald took her turn. “Oh, and by the way, I was a lawyer once upon a time so those documents had better have every 'T' crossed and each 'I' dotted.”
“We also reserve the right.” Levana spoke. “Of agreeing to this plan or not. We will not commit to suicide and it will not be us alone. It had better include all of the available assets. Our lives are just as important to us as yours are to you.”
“That deal does include our sisters who did not wake when we were freed.” Lapis Lazuli clarified “The essence of the person who was sacrificed to give these shells life is still inside. Otherwise they would be as inanimate as this billiard table. As such, they need care and attention as well as examination to help determine what is the best treatment for them.
“They are still here because The Bastard was trying to destroy the world and, from what we've seen, he may have succeeded.” Lapis Lazuli didn't pull any punches. “To close that Gate may take everything we've got and, like it or not, ten women with superpowers might be able to give us that edge. We'll deal with the fallout if any of us are still alive to talk about it.”
“I'll have to contact the Bureau.” Hyperion sourly replied. “I don't have the authority to okay any agreements like that.”
While they waited, Grey made sure Claire was sent to safety. At least one person who stood on that hill would survive.
“Hey,” The Cheerleader looked up at the seven foot tall woman. “Watch out for each other, okay? I owe both of you for seeing I didn't end up dinosaur food.”
Watching her go, Grey found himself holding Lapis's hand, but when she didn't object, he made no move to stop. He completely missed everyone else smiling and grinning at them. Well, with the exception of if they were part of the Guild or a hero named Hyperion.
She flew over the smoking, shattered remains of Arkham. Fires raged unrestrained, whipped by the wild stormy winds that, thankfully, carried the stench of roasted demon away. Reports from the jet pilots said that the hazardous weather was bad enough to make attack runs here very risky.
Lapis agreed with them as she fought the gusty, icy winds spitting sleet and snow. Ebony flew at her side. While not a fast flier, her dark sister rode on one of the black-hand projections like a genie on a magic carpet. However since she used her actual hands to control the darkness she produced, using one to fly, cut back on her ability to do other things like defending and attacking. Then again, she could also carry others when flying which was a major part of what had made her such an effective mercenary and later a member of the Six, her sheer versatility.
Emerald, Kobab, and Levana rode with her now, which more than made up for any lack of offensive power. Grey Wolf's van had been pressed back into duty as a transport as Ruby carried it with her magnetic powers.
Hyperion, Victrix, Sollarc, and Bladestorm were flying along side. The Bureau had come through on the pardons and painfully carefully worded exemptions that stated they were 'transformed' victims of that madman and not soulless constructs or undead. The Mystics Guild wasn't happy about it one damn bit, but Lapis couldn't care less. She, her sisters, and Grey Wolf had the authorities over a barrel, and she wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste. Justice would be done, even if the supposed defenders of what was right were going to choke on it.
Like it or not, The Six had been the Bastard's muscle and the hands he used to enforce his will. They had done such evil in his name, even if they'd been helpless to resist or stop him.
She'd been disappointed when she'd broken that pentagram, that the monsters hadn't just taken the Bastard right then and there. The reason why she'd been able to do anything at all was conflicting orders. One was to guard and make certain that no one disturbed the summoning, but an older command was to always protect him from harm.
However, the pentagram itself may or may not have protected that evil old man from the bolt. If magical in any way, it would've bounced off. The odds had been great that anyone gunning for the Golem Master would've been using just that.
To her at the time, the chances for that monster to die were much higher if she'd disrupted the pentagram which was what she did. That ass Sazonox did call it right when he called this Gate 'nonstandard.' The Gate should've disappeared, taking the Bastard with it. In no way was the SOB even vaguely a virgin or innocent, so his blood should not have opened the thing at all.
Then again the fact he had tried at all indicated he had known something none of them did. That worried the hell out of her, but they had no choice except to trust the 'experts.'
Given the wizards' frank greed for the Bastard's blackest secrets, Ebony summed it up by saying, “She would keep one hand on her wallet while the wizards were around.”
They all understood that those stones that held all of their souls were at stake. Perhaps not all who studied magic were evil SOB's, but understandably, none of the Bastard's victims were particularly trusting of those who studied the magical arts.
It was even possible that they did honestly only want to study what was done and not to try to take control of her and the other automatons, but not a one of them was willing to give any damn one the slightest chance or opportunity.
Even Grey Wolf, who she perhaps trusted more than anyone, wasn't trusted with the stones of her and the other awakened. The ones she'd begun calling her sisters for lack of any better terminology weren't allowed access to that so precious box either.
Rather surprisingly, they didn't have a problem with that. All four simply accepted it, but Lapis learned it also meant she got four bodyguards. Well, if you could call the overcompensating, wise cracking, somewhat damaged souls in these bodies of precious metals and gems, protection.
The flight of Air Force fighter-bombers heavily loaded down with all kinds of nasty stuff roared by. That was their signal. The top of Hangman's hill disappeared in a hell-storm of fire and smoke as tons of explosives and incendiaries burned it clear of demons.
Grasping the Wizard's charm, she dove into the inferno as her sisters, Grey's Wolf Pack, and the Bureau followed to support her.
Flying up out of the smoke a demon-bird screamed as it kamikazed into her. It's talons tried to gore her while the toothed beak snapped at her head.
Snarling right back, Lapis's right hand pistoned like a machine crushing the demon's skull like an egg-shell. Much of the energy she'd absorbed from Emerald's thunder and lightning show still remained. There wasn't much that she couldn't pulverize.
“Shit!” Ebony cussed. “These can fly!”
Leaner and with wings large enough to allow flight, the demons rose to meet them, some literally still burning from the incendiaries.
“And they can fall.” Levana calmly put an arrow through the eye of one as it tried to attack Ebony. “As armored as they are, they are still vulnerable.”
Hundreds of more demons rose up out of the dust and smoke of the bombing. Lapis took her attackers corpse and slung it into the rising flock. The Wolf Pack opened up with their mixed salad of lasers, fire, ice and just about everything else anyone could imagine.
Hyperion, in a wild spinning dive, smashed into them taking out a half dozen. Following close behind, Victrix's gladius left a stream of blood splashing in the wind. Bladestorm's whirling energy blades carved another path of gore as Sollarc's plasma ignited the demons.
“Yee-Haw!” With a rebel yell any of her ancestors would've been proud of, she rocketed past the defenders to the bomb blasted hilltop.
Using the emerging demons from the Gate to break her fall, she discovered that the demons had been exiting from both sides of the upright black disk. That explained some of the impossible numbers that they'd seen.
However, even with the whole hillside bombed and looking like the moon from all the craters, hundreds of demons survived. All about her, winged demons, hurt in previous bombing attacks were tearing themselves free of the cocoons they'd woven to heal themselves.
Since land bound bird-demons were still pouring through the Gate, the cocoons had to be some kind of adaptive mechanism letting them transform themselves to deal with changing conditions. If so, that made them all that more dangerous and all the more reason to end this now.
About her, the melee strong members of the Wolf Pack had landed, as well as Victrix and Levana.
“Amazon!” Yelled the Roman as she beheaded a foe. “We have your back.”
“Let's end this!” Lapis answered as she fought the tide of bodies from the Gate.
Conserving her energy reserves, she drew on it to heighten her speed since she was already strong enough to deal significant damage to these monsters. It was their numbers and coordination that made them truly dangerous to her.
She'd almost made it close enough to use the charm when she was jerked off of her feet, Hyperion!
He'd grabbed the so important box she'd slung over her shoulder.
“Nobody makes me look like a fool!” He barked, nastily.
His eyes flashed bright as his Hyper-vision cut the box's strap as he flew straight up, slinging her into the Gate.
Seeing his plan, Lapis twisted, holding out her left hand with the charm. This wasn't what she'd intended, but she still remembered how to improvise.
Her left hand and the charm went into the Gate as she used her flight to angle her body over the top like a pole vaulter, going over the bar.
Instantly the Gate vanished leaving parts of demons behind which had been in mid-transit along with her hand.
Clutching the stump, she flew upwards. There was a certain asshole she wanted a piece of.
Three weeks later
Easter Sunday
Isla De Los Dragones
“I wish I could've seen his face when he opened up that box!” Grey laughed, reclining on his beach towel. “But we were a little busy. When you guys touched down to close that Gate, each and every one of those damn demons did a one-eighty right back to defend it. In a way that was good since that drew all of them back towards Arkham and kept them out of Salem, but at the time it sure didn't feel like it.”
He took a long pull at his fruity drink. Lapis Lazuli was at his side dressed in a one piece swimsuit while browsing the news on her tablet. For all that they would deny it, Ebony and Kobab were flirting with a pair of muscular guys who were playing beach volleyball. Levana and Emerald in contrast had their own towels and umbrella, taking comfort in each others company while dealing with the pain of missing their families.
“He'd used his Hyper-vision to cut himself.” The golden woman gleaming in the tropical sun laughed lightly. “Then the big dufess had thrown open the box so he could bleed onto the 'stones.' She made ditto marks with her recently restored hand.
It'd been weird as hell to watch the molten gold poured onto the stump form itself into a hand as if there was an invisible mold. Just as strange had been when she'd used her power to cool the gold to her normal body temperature in a heartbeat. In no time at all it was as good as new with no signs of an injury at all.
As if finding out just how much Nazi gold and other precious metals that madman had kept for himself had been a surprise. Well, Lapis and her sisters 'construction' materials had to come from somewhere, he mused.
“You are right though.” She smiled at the memory. “When he saw he had bled all over a set of billiard balls, I thought the 'mighty' hero was going to have a stroke!”
“You have to wonder who told him about how to do that.” Grey shook his head. He'd been in hero biz long enough to know that people were people no matter what side of the law they were on. Still it was disappointing to find those with 'feet' of clay.
“Yeah right.” Lapis rolled her emerald eyes. “Like that was hard to figure out. Sazonox and his cronies were about as subtle as a train wreck.”
“On a brighter note.” Grey pointed out. “Mr. Magic Man did get slapped down by the Guild. Even they don't care for necromancy. It makes for really bad public relations.”
“True.” She admitted with a smile, watching her sisters and the beach hunks. “Even better was Hyperion being assigned to clean up the Arkham Containment Zone. Everyone in the loop, knows it's punishment for stepping outside the bounds.”
“He's going to be less than pleased when he finds that rumored treasure hoard.” Grey had to shake his head again. The woman beside him had hinted where the tarnished hero could overhear about all that Nazi loot the Golem Master had recovered.
However, that was only after she and her sisters had cleaned it out. His poor war wagon had been so overloaded Ruby had to use her powers to keep the frame from bottoming out.
“Surely he didn't think we helped re-establish the Zone without a visit or two to recover our personal belongings.” She batted her blue eyelashes.
“I don't think any of the Bureau realized that Opal puts Bladestorm's sneaky thing to shame.” He sighed, remembering how the automata could go completely invisible. The unseeable Wolf Pack member had loaded the van with everything from recovered art works as well as left-over valuable materials from the workshop. Of course he and the others had helped when they could, but Opal did most the work.
And that wasn't half of the wealth Golem Master had built. The reason why the Guild couldn't find him was rather simple in a way. He'd bought the entire township years before under an assumed name after it'd been abandoned. Using the deed, as part of his spell, when the Guild came looking for things out of place, their spells passed harmlessly over him because he, as the owner, was supposed to be there. That was also why the whole place was so well preserved for so long, but no more.
The other-dimensional invasion, bombing, and being used as a battlefield had turned the place into rubble and ruins.
“Emerald is already working on getting back to speed on the legal system so we can set up a foundation.” Lapis Lazuli replied, enjoying just being on the beach. “We'll see that as much of the stolen properties are returned to their rightful owners as is possible. The rest will be used to help the victims, his and the Nazi's.”
She took a taste of her drink. From what he understood she didn't need to drink, but she fully enjoyed the taste as much as anyone who was fully alive. Just like in the “Princess Bride” said, she was only mostly dead. Besides being made of metal and gems, she was alive in every other way that counted.
That included basking in the sun on the Island of Dragons world class beaches. Once upon a time the Caribbean island had a different name, but ever since the Dragon moved in no one called it anything else. No, she didn't conqueror it, but instead she brought it. The islanders who wanted to stay got a huge raise in their standard of living and the others got a very generous relocation fee.
Since then the Isle De Los Dragons was not only home to the Dragon and her family, but had become a resort for all sorts who really didn't fit into the world at large. The main resort rivaled any in the world and had become famous as being neutral ground.
The Dragon herself was the ultimate keeper of that peace and to date, any who dared to defy her will had paid dreadfully for it. Of course being a Dragon, any who wished to make generous donations could expect to be welcomed with all the amenities. For those of lesser means, there was plenty of work to found in the resorts and casinos.
Would-be dragon-slayers learned just how well the Dragon had adapted to the modern world by first encountering her lawyers, accountants, and investigators. Most wisely decided that perhaps this was one hunt that should left alone.
“So how long?” He asked waving his hand at the beautiful beach and oncoming sunset.
“As long as it takes.” She replied. “All of my sisters, myself included, are going to need help adapting. Our hostess, as well as having one of the most exclusive getaways in the world, also has one of the finest libraries. Since its a bygone certainty that the Guild will not be enthusiastic to give us the aid we need, this is the next best place. After all, we spent decades at the shoulder of a brilliant researcher. I'd be surprised if some of that didn't rub off.
He nodded. The Wolf Pack was currently at the beach-house they had leased. Careful and gentle questioning revealed that another six of them 'slept,' still too hurt to wake. The others were in deeper comas. It was going to take time to work out how best to help them and, if that was impossible, how to lay them to rest.
Maybe others would get a power-trip from having nearly a dozen beautiful super-powered slaves, but it only made him a little sick. He was always polite and treated them like people or members in the team when necessary. In truth there was just one woman on his mind.
Grey found himself just looking at her again, finding his contentment in hers. The world had been saved and the good guys had done more than just break even. Perhaps more important than anything else, they had saved each other. As the sun slipped below the horizon, Lapis Lazuli's eyes found his and soon enough their lips meet. Smiling and holding hands, for now, that was enough.
In a universe far far away...
It is said that nothing is truly original. That everything is only a cycle that repeats endlessly. What seems new, is only a variation of what has gone before. Other universes, other versions of ourselves, going and on and on forever, just like one of those infinity mirrors.
I let out a tense breath, staring at myself in the mirror, but the image didn't change. There was this golden seven foot tall woman in a blue Army Service Uniform, wearing a Silver Star on a ribbon around her neck.
That was me. Somehow, instead of being court-martialed and buried in a cell under Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, they had given me a metal for valor. Well, that is along with kicking me out of the military as fast as they could without making it look like that was what they were doing.
Yeah, I'd pissed off a few people.
However, Hammer Hobbs wasn't one of them.
“Hell Soldier,” He'd shook my hand. “You should've gotten the Medal of Honor and enough salad on your chest to make all those glory hounds green with jealousy. Doing the right thing when it needs to be done takes a lot more guts than any of them ever dreamt of having. You ended this damn war and gave us a treaty by default by retrieving the deed to our piece of dirt.” The General stomped his foot on the polished floor.
“You did good, damn good. When you're ready for a job, come see me.” He gave me his card and then walked to congratulate the next honor recipient.
“Yes, you did.” Sheila smiled up at me. “And you didn't upset or offend a single VIP.”
She was also in uniform, since the whole intell unit got an award, a Joint Meritorious Unit Award, no less, as well as individual citations.
“Even I think twice about opening my mouth when the POTUS is putting a ribbon around my neck.” I replied. We'd been told to stick around for more public relations stuff, but honestly we'd both had already been cashiered.
Dean had avoided getting splashed by any crap from my insubordinate behavior. Shelia, my love, was, unfortunately, just as outspoken as me. Her remarks about how the Pantheon boarding parties, with the exception of me, had been all awarded higher honors were blunt and to the point.
Being diplomatic for once, I kept my mouth shut that technically I was receiving no credit at all for my part in that action. The Silver Star was for Asheville and a snowy New Years Eve I'll never ever forget.
If I needed any validation for what I did on Valentines, it was my name on the deed to planet Earth, right under where I passed it over to the UN Secretary General. Given the materials the Sha'leians use, my name will be there as long that document exists, which will be a long, long time. You can bet that, as important as it is, great care is being used to make damn sure nothing happens to it.
I also got a grin out of being a starship captain, if only for few hours, before I passed it on to this Navy commander. No doubt he didn't hold onto it for long either, but it's the thought that counts.
“So what now?” I asked her, raising a brow.
“Why don't we abandon this party.” She smiled, mischievously.
“Now you're talking.” Grinning, I offered my arm in the finest chivalrous fashion. “And then?”
“I was hoping you would have something in mind.” Sheila's eyes positively glowed with a secret.
“You mean something like changing these monkey suits into something more fun?” Yeah, they'd tried to take my Skins, Q-box, and the other gifts Tash, Ralt and Kzon had given me. The bastards even tried to make me sign a nondisclosure agreement that would, in effect, make me guilty of treason if I ever transformed into Halcyon again.
Doc Schneider stepped on that quick. Just because I was leaving the Army didn't mean a damn thing to him. Once a child of Prometheus, always a … you get the rest. He wasn't about to let one of his favorite test subjects be kept from him. That also went without saying that he wanted to see the long term consequences of what being a child of Prometheus truly were.
My Sha'leian tablet problem was much the same. Since it was keyed to me, taking it away meant everyone else would be deprived of the treasures hidden in its drives as well as me. Petty isn't it?
The issue that really polarized things was my Skins. The Special Forces community tends to be a very proud one. Like with the Green Berets' head gear, the garment itself was seen as a symbol, an award of achievement. While I had those who were not fans, they knew damn well I'd walked willingly into the fire. To see those lines crossed because of political pressure, well, let's say it rubbed the fur the wrong way and leave it at that. It was enough to convince the party involved to reconsider their position.
My Q-box 'Button' was disabled which of course didn't mean anything since I'd learned how to change without it. That addressed the stated reason, however, their response was to downgrade the award I'd been put in for as much as they dared without insulting everyone else.
Talos and Bes, two of my biggest not-fans, even they objected to the snub. Athena just shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“Will you 'please' keep her out of trouble?” The Prometheus Team Leader asked, her newly awarded Distinguished Service Cross about her neck. It was the second highest medal for valor possible just below the Medal of Honor, and she'd more than earned it.
“I have a plan.” Sheila replied, as she held up her very small purse which was all that was allowed by uniform regulations.
I kinda did the classic double take when I saw she had two of them.
Athena fought to hold in her laugh when Sheila handed me one of them.
“You 'are' in a woman's uniform.” My lover smirked. “This is an approved accessory.”
Of course I had everything I needed in a very slim wallet that my programmed Skins could hide nearly invisibly. Women's Dress Blues or not, I did 'not' need a purse. I was still complaining about why the change from the old Class A Green uniform, much less about carrying a … purse.
Sighing, I gave in to the inevitable. If I didn't want to cause a scene I had to give in to their fiendish plot. I had a feeling Athena was a contributing part of this conspiracy. Someone after all had to hold onto those purses while Sheila was receiving her award.
I took that purse as it contained the most unstable explosive imaginable.
Here we were in the most rarefied VIP environment imaginable. Heroes from across the country were being honored. The Pantheon teams that boarded the Sha'leian ship to an Army private who'd taken on a command tank and its escorts after his platoon had been shot to pieces. He'd won, at the cost of being seriously wounded.
In the middle of all of those dignitaries, Athena, child of Prometheus and senior Pantheon Team Leader, was turning shades of red trying to hold in her laughter. I know my golden face was burning copper red, but just to make things worse Sheila had this evil smile that meant the worst was yet to come.
“Well, aren't you going to check inside?” She asked, turning my blood cold with apprehension.
Nott and Artemis had wandered over which wasn't helping my nerves at all.
“Can't we just wait on this part till we're alone?” I begged, sensing doom and despair.
The ring of women about me silently declared a very clear, no.
“Is this the same woman who charged into legions of alien robots, risking court-martialing as she single handed ended a war?” Athena drily commented.
Sighing, I opened the purse. Inside were a pair of tubes. One was a tube of lipstick, while the other tube was a paper wrapped, feminine hygiene product. Maybe this stuff was new to me, but I'd been a victim of TV ads just like everyone else. I knew what they were.
I couldn't say the same about the four small pieces of blue metallic cloth. They had strings of the same material attached to the triangular shaped parts. Partially pulling them out to try and get a better look, I really didn't want to reveal whatever Sheila's little joke was to the whole awards reception.
Athena finally lost it and began giggling. The other ladies soon followed at about the same time I figured out two of the smaller triangles were attached together by those strings almost like …
“Mep!” I squeaked, as I stuffed 'it' back out of sight, my face shining even a brighter copper.
“If we're going to the beach, you're going to need … swimwear.” Shelia's eyes danced in merriment.
“Beach?” I tried not to squeak again while sneaking a look around us. I just knew we were making a scene at this solemn occasion. “There's still ice on the ground even at Daytona Beach.”
“Look in your purse.” She giggled, enjoying my discomfort way too much.
Glaring at her, I opened that diabolical handbag, despite knowing better. I just couldn't contain my curiosity. Looking past all those other things, there were two stiff pieces of paper.
The girls were peering around me, since at seven feet, damn few are looking over my shoulders.
I read the plane tickets' destination.
“Rio De Janeiro?” Nott read aloud in disbelief. “You're going to Rio!”
Suddenly, I felt like a mouse surrounded by covey of very hungry cats. These women were combat hardened vets, but each and every one was green with envy and jealousy. A glance told me that no few of the assemblage of guys felt the same. After months of constant ice and snow, the very thought of sunshine and warm sands was as addictive as any narcotic.
With this Impact Winter that our now thankfully departed guests had caused, just about the only places on the planet that had decent weather were the tropics. Even before the War, Rio had been one of the prime beach locations in the world. Now, afterward, it was the dream vacation spot for most the world. Sure there were other tropical getaways that had not been too badly touched by the invasion, but they weren't Rio.
“How?' I asked, knowing that, with it being such a prime destination, trips to Rio was not cheap and getting approved visas was like winning the lottery.
“Let's just say while finding someone to make your locket, I found a business opportunity.” Sheila smiled. “You would be amazed at how lucrative the orichalcum scrap business could be.”
Considering the thousands of wrecked bots and drones from the invasion, and how hard the stuff was to work, if someone had seriously figured out how to recycle the stuff into something more useful than just shrapnel for missiles, then she could indeed be talking about a lot of money.
On the other hand, it wasn't as if I was a pauper either. As one of the holders of a complete copy of the internet, I'd been contacted by any number of companies and corporations. Let's just say that I was not charging for the data, but instead for my time. I also had the thought that, now that we had access to the Sha'leian computer technology via their ship, that meant we also could access all those thousands of robotic brains that'd previously been locked out to us. Just maybe Sheila didn't know just how profitable the salvage business could be!
However first things first, a bikini? An itsty-bitsy, teenie-weenie bikini? Well, at least it didn't have yellow or any other kinds of polka dots. It did about perfectly match Halcyon's blue sapphire hair which meant my love had put some thought into this.
“Sure.” Athena explained to the gathered ladies. “All you have to do is disobey orders and stop a war, but make the terms so damn sweet the civilian authorities can't possibly refute it without being lynched.
“However,” She added, “That doesn't mean they won't lean on the the military side of the house and get you kicked out with as little fanfare as possible. Which also means while the rest of us are still serving, they get to go flying off to Rio. See? Easy!”
I found myself blushing again, but while she did have a point, I was thinking back to Halloween where I first meet Tash. Honestly, I didn't expect Humanity to survive the winter, but not only had we made it to Easter, but some damn how we'd won the War.
We would see another Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. There would be other New Years to celebrate and Valentines to be given to the woman I loved for all that she dearly enjoyed embarrassing me.
As I had more than once, since I'd seen their saucer disappear into the 'Black,' I wished my Sha'leian friends fair 'winds' on their journey. It was almost a certainty they wouldn't have attempted their invasion unless their situation hadn't been grim. Fate laughed at both of our species by ensuring that we couldn't meet as friends, and it was virtually a sure thing that if we meet again there would be conflict. Far too much blood had been shed and humanity had proved time and time again that mankind doesn't forget such things.
However the world and life went on. We had plane tickets to Rio and all I had to do was wear a skimpy swimsuit and spend Easter on the beach. Besides, if past experience was a clue, Sheila would make it more than worth it.
Well, this ceremony had been nothing like the throne-room scene in Star Wars anyways. I held my arm out for Sheila.
“I think I hear a beach calling our names.” Smiling, I tried not to think about the state of undress it would require. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” She replied regally. “Let's!”
If I heard John Williams throne-room theme playing within the privacy of my mind as we left, well, we'd earned it the hard damn way.
I'd heard that the best revenge wasn't served cold. It was living well despite ones' enemies. I decided that perhaps it also honored all those who given so much, including that final sacrifice. Being well, happy, made what they, what we'd, all fought for, worth it.
Arm in arm with the woman I loved, we walked out of that company of heroes. For all of those who'd fallen, and who never got the chance to live in peace they had fought for, we had a lot of living to do.
Dr. Frank Fletcher is a mental health professional who arbitrates what is 'real' everyday. He's heard nearly every possible delusion. However, this newest 'Jane Doe' has a new one. Of course her story is a hallucination because the world just doesn't work that way, right?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Dr. Frank Fletcher looked over the file before him. The 'Jane Doe' was found wearing men's clothing that was much too big for her, as well as having the wallet of a person who, as of yet, hadn't been located, a Mr. Jerry Cole. When confronted by New York's Finest she appeared dazed and confused. During questioning, she claimed to be Mr. Cole. Judge Romero promptly sent her here to St. Luke's for psychiatric evaluation.
'Jane' was in her mid-twenties, and a very attractive redhead. No distinguishing marks were found, but her nails were professionally manicured. She easily could've been a model, except for her delusion.
As she was bought in by Julie and Vincent, the orderlies, 'Jane' was alert and examined the room as well as himself who sat at the table. Given she was a suspect in a disappearance, as well as having a stolen ID and bank cards on her person, she was cuffed. What was out of the ordinary was her startled, focused look at a point in space where nothing existed.
As a trained observer he noted that, as well as the fact she quickly hid her reaction. Additionally, she kept track of the orderlies' locations as well as a slight nod when Julie took up her station by the door after Vincent left.
I'm Dr. Fletcher.” He began and asked “So what may I call you?”
“You might as well call me Jane.” She looked down at her cuffed wrists. “That's what everyone else is calling me.”
“Do you have another name you would rather use?” He pressed, hoping to get her real name.
“I did.” Jane gave him a tired sarcastic smile. “But since it's gender inappropriate, it wasn't well received. Let's just go with Jane.”
“Do you know why you're here?” He marked that she seemed to be keeping to the fiction she told the police, veiling it in deception.
“But of course I do, Dr. Fletcher.” She looked at him as if he was one being evaluated. “I screwed up. Something totally unexpected happened to me and, while shocked half out of my mind, I told the truth.”
“The truth being you're Jerry Cole and you were transformed from a fifty year old man to a young woman half that age?” He looked at her over the top of his glasses. Who was she trying to kid here?
“But of course not Dr. Fletcher.” She replied sardonically. “We 'all' know things like that are impossible and can't happen. The universe just doesn't work that way.”
“No it doesn't.” He agreed, sagely. “Are you willing to give me another name instead of Jane?”
“Doctor,” She sighed. “I have a question for you if I may?”
“Please go ahead.” He shifted his position, noting that she still persisted with this idea that she was this Mr. Cole.
“Let's pretend, just for a moment, that what I'm saying is true.” Her smile was obviously faked. “Nothing, but pure make-believe I know, but humor me.”
“Oh, please continue.” He looked at her over his glasses again.
“Thank you.” She replied with exaggerated courtesy.
“Since this is just play, let's pretend that, every now and then, I get lucky.” Her smile turned into something more like a grimace. “If I'm in the right place at just the right time I can sort of push things along into going the way I want. It doesn't happen often and lot of the times it only works for certain things. Of course I have no clue of what will work or what won't till I try.”
“So you're saying,” He tried to make her clarify, “That you can make your wishes come true?”
“I suppose you could call it that.” Her pasted on smile was back. “But like I said, most times its only for certain kinds of things and not always in the way I want. If it did, I wouldn't be in this predicament. For instance, I might desire a 'lot' of money, and I find a 'lot' of pennies.
“It also has consequences.” She raised a brow, challenging him. “For this bit of directed luck, I get much more than an equal amount of bad fortune. I had to learn the hard way that it's rarely worth it. You're with me so far?”
“Oh, yes.” He replied still taking notes. “Please proceed.”
“That's what happened, but this time I so was lonely and desperate that I wanted nothing more than to not hurt anymore.” Her sad smile this time appeared genuine. “That kind of scared me, since it sort of bordered on suicide, but I didn't want die. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to live.”
“And that's when you 'changed' from Mr. Cole into your present self?” His skepticism came to the fore. This was such a fascinating delusion. It would be very interesting to see the root causes.
“I have another question for you.” She avoided answering his inquiry. “How else do you explain me?”
“You're a very intelligent and, I might add, an imaginative young woman.” He spoke frankly. “However, even you appear to recognize the implausibility of your 'story.' You must understand that in order to help you we must know your real idenity.”
“Let's say I do give you another name and background, but none of it is verifiable.” She took a deep, uncertain breath. “So what happens?”
“Jane.” He sighed. “It doesn't work that way. We only want the truth of who you are and what really happened to Mr. Cole.”
“I've told the truth.” She glared at him. “No one is the least bit willing to even compare my finger prints, much less consider for a moment that reality isn't what they want it to be.
“Well, in that case.” He returned her glower with a frank gaze. “You'll be held here until some sign of Mr. Cole shows up. It's possible you'll be charged with robbery, since his drivers license and other cards aren't yours and are considered official documents.”
“Well.” She exhaled heavily. “It sounds like I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't and just plain screwed either way.”
“Not at all, Jane.” He observed her eyes cutting back to empty space in the air. “All you have to do is tell us the truth.”
“You know.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Jack had it so right. I never really realized that, although he's played so many of the crazy 'guy' roles, that he did that one too.”
“And that is?” He asked, looking over his glasses again.
“You can't handle the truth!” She stood thrusting her cuffed hands towards that spot she'd been surreptitiously glancing at.
Julie darted forward and he reached for the buzzer to summon more help when his mouth dropped open.
Her hands had completely disappeared as if she'd put them through an invisible hole!
With a flick of her wrists, the suddenly visible and opened handcuffs flew at Julie who barely caught them in time to avoid being hit in the face.
“Doc.” Her maniacal grin alarmed him. “I really didn't want to do this since, like I said, it has consequences, but it's not as if any of you gave me a choice. I hope you enjoy seeing how it's like being thought as crazy! See ya!”
Then came this crazy moment, like out of the movies, as the whole room rippled.
She was gone!
Finally hitting the buzzer, he jumped up to see where she went.
“What's up Dr. Fletcher?” Vincent opened the door.
“She's gone!” He shouted, alarmed that she got away so easily.
“Who's gone?” The big orderly asked looking questioningly at Julie. “We haven't brought anyone in yet. I know you like having time to go over the case files after Julie brings them to you.”
“The redheaded Jane Doe that Judge Romero sent over.” He explained testily, looking to Julie for help. “She just vanished!”
“Ah, Judge Romero hasn't sent anyone since last Tuesday, right Julie?” Vincent gave them both a cautious expression.
Glancing at the handcuffs she had in her hands as if wondering how they got there, the tall woman put them away as she shook her head as if to clear it.
“You're forgetting that bum from the park that thought he was King Arthur that came in yesterday.” She corrected her fellow orderly.
Frank froze. Something was not right!
Carefully he walked back to his desk and files, but there was no trace at all of any of anything at all mentioning Jane. A glance at his computer, showed not even it had not recorded anything. In fact there was nothing at all to prove she'd ever been there.
“You're right, Vincent.” He tried to hide his dismay and shock. “I must have dozed off and fell into a dream. I apologize and do hope this can be forgotten.”
“Well.” The orderly appeared to have bought his lie. “You have been working awfully long hours. You're already here when I arrive and still at it when I leave.”
“Maybe I should take some time off.” He really felt like he needed one hell of a stiff drink. Even Julie, who was right there in the room with him, didn't seem to remember what really happened. Reality just did not change itself. Things just don't work that way!
“That's a good idea.” Julie agreed, still a little dazed herself. “You can't let this place get to you. Just because all of them are locked up, don't mean you have to be.”
“You both have made your points.” Frank made himself smile. “It is time for a vacation.”
It'd never felt so good to be back home. Not wasting a moment he went straight to their modest little bar. Ever since the 'Jane' incident, that morning, he'd been mentally off balance. There was no such thing as reality changing or wishes coming true. There just wasn't!
“Dinner will be ready in just a few.” Marta, his wife, gave him a little wave.
She was watching one of her fashion programs that she followed religiously.
“How was the drive home?” She asked, taking a sip of her wine. She'd long ago learned that asking about his job was a dead end. Given patient confidentiality he could only discuss generalities.
“Not bad,” He swirled the expensive brandy about before taking that first mouthful of fire. “I talked with Adam about taking some time off. After all, I have weeks of vacation time built up.”
“It's about time.” Marta gently scolded him. “Our grandson is going to be six soon and we haven't spent anywhere near enough time with him.”
Looking up at the TV before replying, he almost spit the mouthful of brandy all over his wife.
It was Jane!
Are you alright dear? His wife asked, looking up at the set to see what had him choking.
“That's just Jeremia Kovylina.” She giggled slapping him on the back as his nose and throat burned from trying to breath the brandy. “She's a Russian model who's recently moved to the United States.”
“What do you think of New York?” The reporter asked the redheaded model.
“I love this country and city.” She replied in a strong Slavic accent. “Everyone has been so welcoming.
“It is tragic that my own country's policies have turned against those whose only offenses have been to be different.” The beautiful redhead sighed. “I regret this move was necessary.
“However,” She looked right at the camera, and Frank had the uncomfortable feeling she was staring right at him. “There are always consequences.”
by Grover
Why was I surprised?
At least it wasn’t Herself.
When She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed got involved, things got, well, complicated doesn’t even begin to describe it.
© 2010 by Grover
Disclaimer: This is fiction! It's not real. No specific person, place or thing is meant to representative here and if I did, it was completely by accident. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! I the author reserve all rights! Thanks to Cathy for looking at this for me. I know this is still more than a little raw but time constraints have rushed me. So please don't freak out about the grammar errors! Enjoy! Grover
“Wow!,” I exclaimed staring at the sizable number of zeroes on the check.
The three attorneys who’d represented me smiled, pleased at my reaction. Well, considering who their ultimate patron was that I was borrowing them from, that made perfect sense. She wasn’t known for taking failure likely.
I’d nicknamed them Larry, Moe, and Curly, because all three was cut from the same mold. Dark with vaguely Asian-like good looks they all dressed the same in black suits cut to show off their trim fitness. Besides, I didn’t have a chance in hell of pronouncing their real names.
“Just sign here, acknowledging you’ve received what you desired, and it’s all yours.” Moe said, handing me a pen that cost more than I made in a year even adding in this check. Hell, who am I kidding? Several years added together with a lot of fudging was more like it.
Hey, so what? For me, this little windfall meant a lot. Not only would it help me with my new roomies, but it would get my car out of hock from the repair shop. It might even put me in the green for once. Taking the pen, I pulled the paper over.
Excited, I looked up and froze. My three stooges might have the best professional poker faces I’d ever seen, but I saw something in their eyes. For them this was chump change so why were they so eager for me to sign?
To paraphrase, a certain Corellian spice smuggler, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Could just be the desire to get rid of me and the hot potato I represented, or it could be something else. Suspiciously, I eyed the legal looking document. Then I turned it over. The back was covered in extremely fine print.
“What is this?,” I asked, pointing to the additions I knew nothing about and almost certainly wouldn’t agree to.
All three stooges gave me really pained expressions.
Larry wincing explained, “Our patron insisted it be added.”
I sighed. “Junior or Senior?” I asked politely. Knowing the situation, I knew they had no choice in the matter.”
Curly answered, “If by Junior you mean the Prince, yes.”
By a powerful act of will, I kept from rolling my eyes. Why was I surprised? At least it wasn’t Herself. When She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed got involved, things got, well, complicated doesn’t even begin to describe it.
I dug out my cell, “Hey Gil, it’s Stew. Yeah, I’m at the lawyer’s office now. No, I’ve got a problem. That’s right, it’s your brother.”
No sooner than I snapped my phone shut, Gil came walking though the doors. Damn neat trick, and one he didn’t often use. The fact he did so now meant he was just a little peeved, but not mad. If he’d been angry the doors wouldn’t still be there.
Wordlessly, I pointed at the document the three stooges tried to pawn off on me.
Or should I say the three cringing guys stinking of fear sweat?
I actually felt bad for them. It must really suck to be at the mercy of beings so damn powerful, that just one wrong careless move, and Poof!
Hell, it was bad enough from my friend’s and my position. You know what they say about not being able to chose family, but you can chose your friends? I’m here to tell you, that has it’s own dangers.
Thinking about it, the whole thing kinda sneaked up on us. Once upon a time there were three gamers. We played just about anything and everything; computer games, pen and paper role-playing games, as well as board games.
I’m Stew, and my two buds were Smitty and Big John. Since the other John departed our group after graduating college, I guess we should’ve dropped the Big, but by that time it’d become his nickname. Like our recently departed gaming buddy, we were college students.
You see we had a problem. Three guys doesn’t a gaming group make. We needed at least a fourth.
That’s when we found Gil. Maybe it was the other way around. One thing was for sure, he certainly changed our lives.
While the rest of us were your usual motley assortment of older students working their way though school, Gil was the good looking rich kid. He’d those dark intense handsome features that, although androgynous, the girls ate up. We’d run across him at the Cosmic Forge, our favorite gaming and comic book shop. He’d been just browsing when he saw us gaming in the open table area in the back. Curious, Gil asked us what we were doing.
We kinda laughed at his expense when he didn’t seem to know anything about role-playing or the gaming scene. The poor kid had wandered in because of all the colorful posters in the shop’s windows. Once we explained, he wanted to try.
There is just something about the fun someone new to the hobby has that’s enjoyable to share. Hey, the three of us were looking for another body anyways. Becoming friends was a great bonus.
Gil explained his ignorance at first as being an exchange student. He wouldn’t say where, except that it was far, far away and that we wouldn’t have heard of it. Then he changed his story to living a very strict childhood where he didn’t get exposed to pop culture. Like Paris Hilton and her thinking that Wal-Mart sold walls.
Then the holidays rolled around and we got talking about families. All Gil would say is we really, really didn’t want to ever meet them. At the time we just laughed it off. We all had some family member we were embarrassed about, right?
Slowly we wormed out of him that his mother, never his mom, but Mother, was involved in making rules and laws. Foolish us were thinking, okay, in the government or maybe a judge, right?
Fate just had to stick her big fat foot in. I got into some legal trouble that wasn’t my fault. Not going into details, I needed some legal advice. Now I learned a long time ago that if you had an inside line with a profession it was always a good policy to make us of it. In this case, I thought that Gil’s Mother might be able to help. If not the area of law she specialized in, she might know a reputable lawyer in the field I needed. What would it hurt to ask?
That weekend we had special plans. It was a four day holiday and we were meeting at Gil’s place. A few weeks back, there’d been a freak electrical fire at the Cosmic Forge and the place had burned down. That’d been during finals week so none of us were involved, but still scary since a few guys we knew had gotten hurt and one had even died.
Needing a place to meet, Gil volunteered his place since it had room to spare. Besides, it had some of the strangest furnishings that were great for setting the mood. Tables with the legs carved like dragons, and he even had real tankards.
I thought at the time he had some kind of Goth or Emo thing going. I’d been to his place before, but this time it seemed creepier somehow.
So we started setting up our game books and getting comfortable. Wanting to get this out the way before we got into the game, I asked, “Hey Gil. I’m in need of some legal advice.”
I didn’t get to the second sentence before, panicked, he started motioning me to be quiet.
Not getting it I went on. Why shouldn’t I you know? “Do you think your Mother could help?”
Poor Gil closed his eyes as if in pain. The rest of us took longer to stop blinking. We were in a humongous throne room. Jeweled chandeliers hung from the frescoed high ceilings and gilded fluted columns lined the walls. The polished marble floor showed like glass and throngs of richly dressed courtiers stared at us.
Having an interest in history and clothes, I thought the styles looked somewhat like European 16th or 17th century. However only somewhat, because they lacked the white powdered wigs that was so popular. I saw waistcoats among the men and women, and lace and ruffles were everywhere.
What even a blind man couldn’t miss was the woman sitting on the throne at the end of room. The amateur historian in me again could only compare her to the reproduction of Athena Parthenos in the replicated Parthenon in Nashville Tn. Not only was the woman regal as any Greek Goddess, but she was also alive, along with being 40 feet tall! Did I say goddess?
Gil sighed complaining, “Mother!”
Okay, we’re in trouble.
Her voice vibrated in a tone that went right though you. Sultry and commanding all at once, I think it could melt stainless steel. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friends?”
I guess I could give a blow by blow account of what happened, but I can’t. Don’t remember most of it, because I was freaked the hell out, let me tell you. Smitty and Big John were as badly out of it as I was. John’s arms were bright red from his pinching himself in a vain attempt to wake up from this waking dream. Smitty simply stood there in a comatose daze.
All kinds of legends of what happened to foolish people who asked unwise questions of the high and mighty ran amok in my overactive imagination. Goddesses, Sidhe and Old Ones weren’t known to be friends of man.
As we stood there like fools, She-who-Must-Be-Obeyed ordered three guys to go into our world and learn the in and outs of our legal system. Then right there, I suppose you’d call it a door appeared and proof they were gone!
We learned right then that regardless, Gil was our friend. He gave the courtiers this glare that I have a feeling saved us from being exploited beyond our worst nightmare. Just starting to function again I began noticing other details.
Back on Earth, Gil was a little under average in height being about the same as me, five eight. Smitty was around six feet, but Big John were the tallest of us all at six four.
The tallest of those around us came to maybe my chin and that was with the heels they were all wearing. That was something else that was confusing. With the different styles and the lack of facial hair it was damn hard to determine, pardon the expression, is that a man or a woman? Many of the clues I was accustomed to using were useless given the different clothing styles.
Meanwhile, Gil introduced us and, in a quick explanation, he warned against asking for favors or anything that could indebt us to his Mother. She was the Queen, and we were on a world called Gaia. Trying not to freak out, I heard someone refer to him as Prince Gilmarian, the Patron of Travelers and Scholars.
My head still spinning, I observed that everyone shared Prince Gil's, godling or whoever the hell he was, general good looks. Slim, a little on the short side, with somewhat Asian-like features, but with more of a golden complexion.
Smitty and Big John both were Caucasians, but had brown hair and eyes. They really blended into the crowd more or less with the exception of their size. While they were virtual giants with the exception of Mother over there, I was really the oddball with my Celtic freckles and long red hair. The usual starving student, I had other things to spend my money on instead of haircuts. That was about to get yours truly into even more trouble.
At first I thought an incredibly attractive woman was daring Gil’s ire. Roughly Smitty’s height with a deep blue gold embroidered jacket and wearing hose, I changed my mind realizing the ruffles weren’t being filled out by breasts. That caused my poor gray matter to short out since his perfect golden complexion, long straight gleaming midnight black hair and large dark eyes cried out woman to me.
Even more than Gil, he was way too pretty to be a guy.
“Prince Treysorian Patron of Spies, the Theater, and Gamblers.
I think Gil introduced us, but I was too busy kicking myself in the butt for being attracted to my friend’s brother. I kept reminding myself this was “Prince” and not the attractive girl my senses kept telling me. Somewhere along the way, Mother stepped down from her three story gilded throne. As she came towards us, she gradually shrunk until she was only taller than anyone in the room rather than rivaling some buildings I’d been in.
She, like her sons, had that perfect golden complexion. If they had finer features than most women I’d ever seen, hers were a distilled beauty that, while breathtaking, had a chill about them. While Gil’s dark eyes had a warm depth to them, hers were wells to the void. Perhaps she’d seen too much or simply saw more than any mortal could stand.
That mysterious voice again announced her as The Queen of the Universe.
All three of us sputtered, smirking, taken unawares.
Can you spell trouble? The temperature dropped to the subzero, the court shifted to move away from the fools who’d brought Herself’s displeasure upon them.
Praying I was as smart as I thought I was, I said, “Please your Majesty forgive us. We are strangers to this land and are ignorant of your customs and ways. In our own land that title means something else. Our reaction weren't intended to be rude, only surprise by the unexpected.”
Gil was giving us the silent urge to continue so I guessed we hadn’t shot ourselves in the foot yet.
Smitty, in the same vein asked, “Your Highness, I’m guessing that our languages are being translated in some fashion, since I’ve observed that our mouth movements don’t match up with the sounds. Since it is trying to put unfamiliar terms into ones that we can understand, perhaps the difficulty in communicating in different tongues is the true problem.”
Thank you Smitty! However I was getting distracted again. Prince Trey had gotten a little too close. He’d invaded my personal space, and it was making me real uncomfortable in more ways than one.
There was this scent he was wearing that added to my confusion about his gender. Between my body sending me conflicting signals on one side, and The Queen, who I was pretty sure was very powerful, wielding powers that, no matter their origin was like magic to us poor hijacked gamers from planet Earth, I was utterly frazzled.
She gave us an imperious stare, “We are willing to make allowances, given you have newly arrived. Welcome to Gaia.”
Then she looked at me. No, I mean really looked. You’ve heard of a deer in the headlights? Not even close, let me tell you! “We have decided to grant your petition for assistance.”
I glanced over at Gil and he got this pained expression in his eyes that I didn’t think was good. Praying that all the times we’d talked our way out of difficult situations with Genies, Fey, and other powerful beings applied to this situation, I gave it my best shot. Okay, maybe it was only in simulation, but just remember, Savik did get the damn thing out of space dock without a scratch.
Not even sure if I was addressing her correctly I politely replied, “Your Majesty I was unaware that anyone, but my friends and I were present at the time of the request. No acquiring or any discharge of debt was intended. It was meant only as an inquiry between friends, nothing more.”
Gil’s Mother smiled. I got a good lesson why he’d never referred to her as his Mom. I very firmly kept all my thoughts on why that was so out of my mind. Being frightened half to death, like the quote about hanging in a fortnight said, it concentrated my mind wonderfully. For all I knew she could read my mind and, for some reason, she simply didn’t strike me as the understanding sort.
“Then, my assistance is freely given to my son’s friends without the acquiring or discharge of any debt,” she said quoting my own words.
Hazarding another glance at Gil, he shook his head so very slightly.
I had no idea what to do. Turning down a gift could be just as bad as any insult. Thanking her could also be a bad thing. Pulling from my years as a compulsive reader as well as a gamer, I tried, “Your generosity knows no bounds.”
She seemed pleased with that answer and Gil visibly relaxed. Okay, that’s good! However, Prince of Thieves over here seemed impressed too and that wasn’t so good. He was like one of those damn pictures that, depending how you looked at it, was both male and female.
Of course while I was distracted again, we somehow got invited to dinner. It was another of those offers that we couldn’t refuse. Now remember, we were all dressed down for a comfortable afternoon of gaming, not for hobnobbing with Queens and Princes of the Universe. That led to us being prepared. From the complaints as we were scrubbed, perfumed, and laced into appropriate clothes, Smitty and Big John didn’t enjoy the attention. Well, I manfully complained along with them, but secretly enjoyed every moment.
Men and women’s fashions change over time. What were male clothes 30 years ago are women’s fashions today. I understood that, although these clothes looked feminine to us, in this culture they weren’t. So yeah, I indulged in my private vice with the silky fabrics and fine materials. While all this was going on, Gil sneaked in to finally inform me what was really going on.
I sat in a small swimming pool sized bathtub, being soaped down by two of the sweetest, loveliest girls I’d ever been bathed by, while doing my best to hide my ‘periscope’ peeking though the foaming bubbles.
He explained, “Well Stew, in this Universe she is the Queen, or one of them anyways. Like the Greek Gods, as well as other mythos, we have different 'areas' I guess you would call them, of responsibility. Mother is kind of what you would call the Goddess of accounting, details and rules. She keeps track of everything. That’s why I warned you about debts.
“Mine is learning and seeking. Once I found your world, I couldn’t stay away. It is so different from home, here. Because of Mother and all my relatives, we’re as static as any tradition or caste bound culture. Mind you, that’s not altogether a bad thing, but it does make your world very exciting to the scholar in me.” He said, as the girls rinsed me down.
I had to ask. “So why were you hanging out with a bunch of losers like us? With your powers you could go and do anything you wanted. Let’s be honest here. Guys like us are the ones everyone tells to go get a life.”
Gil smiled. “Do you remember way back when we first met? I saw the three of you with all your books out, moving your miniature figures about. What got me hooked was what Big John said. “We create.”
“All of you are so damn creative and imaginative. Do you have any idea of how rare that truly is?” He asked.
Trying to think past my pair of pretty distractions, I objected, “Don’t give us too much credit, Gil. Most of that stuff comes from the rule books and don‘t forget, none of us are shy about borrowing ideas from anywhere and everywhere we can.”
He grinned at me. “That’s part of the fun. Perhaps, like that writer said, nothing original has been written in years, but it’s the way all of you put those ideas together that makes it different. Additionally, where could I possibly be exposed to so much concentrated pop culture other than hanging and gaming with you guys?”
I had to score him a point there. However there were other things I had to know. “Gil just how much trouble did my big mouth get us into?”
He ran his hand though his hair. “More than you really want to know. I shouldn’t have offered my place, but I really didn’t think Mother would interfere so blatantly. Then again, I also didn’t take into account one of you would say something she could twist into a direct request of her.
Gil stared at my feminine helpers. “Let me put it this way. These girls are yours. Mother has given them to each of you.”
Despite being male, I had strong problems with slavery, but before I could object he continued. “Before you entered these chambers both of these ‘girls’ were captured soldiers from one of my more unlikable Uncles’ latest infringement on her lands. She transported them instantly from a stockade hundreds of miles from here, and transformed them. They have no memories of their past lives and regard themselves as yours just as like pets on Earth, but more intelligent and able to serve. That is how much trouble you are all in.”
Shaken I stared at the smiling attractive girls. Suddenly I wasn’t having any problem at all keeping my periscope submerged. That portion of my anatomy retracted looking for a nice safe place to hide, run silent, run deep.
My dry throat demanded something wet, I reached for the glass of fruity drink. Before I could one of the smiling girls beat me to it holding it to my lips. A minute ago this would’ve been so much more enjoyable I mourned.
My friend saw my distress. “Stew, you can’t do anything about their condition. They knew their old lives were over when they were captured. It is one of the unpleasant things about living in a world with your Gods far too close.
“These girls are as sweet and gentle as they act. Programmed, brainwashed or mind controlled, they are what they are. They have feelings and can be hurt just like anyone else. If you want to do right by them, please treat them with respect and care,” Gil advised.
I took a swallow. Looking at her holding the cup, I saw what he was getting at. “I understand that Gil. However the girls aren’t consenting adults as me and the guys know it. They’ve no choice, but to behave this way. That puts a way different spin on things if you know what I mean. They’re not responsible for their actions, we are. Maybe you should let Smitty and Big John know too, before they do something they’ll regret later.”
Then it hit me. “Obligations. She’s saddling us with obligations in the form of gifts instead of debts.”
My friend nodded, “Exactly. You managed to more or less wiggle out of the debt she wanted to impose, so she had to find something else.”
Dryly I said, “As if I wasn’t starving fast enough on my own, give me two more mouths to feed.”
Gil replied, “Well you could always put them to work.”
Anger rose up inside me. “Don’t even joke about that! It’s bad enough for them to be transformed like this. What you’re suggesting is just foul it’s …”
His laughter cut me off. “You’re a good man Stew. I didn’t mean that way. The girls would be great working with kids, or even as maids.”
I blushed red. Okay maybe I do have sex on the brain. The last time I dated was many months ago, so it’d been a while if you know what I mean. On the other hand maybe Gil couldn’t read minds after all. I doubted if he would’ve made that compliment knowing about my secret.
Gil laughed again as the girls gestured for me to stand so they could dry me off. “Let me check on the other guys. You seem to be in good hands!”
I shot him an evil glare. “Very funny.”
Then before he turned to leave, Gil warned, “Watch out for my brother Trey too. For some reason he’s taken an interest in you.”
Nodding, I was distracted by the girls again. I should’ve paid more attention.
It was rewarding to hear from the room next door, Big John’s baritone bellow, “They used to be men!”
If getting ready for the ‘dinner’ was an experience, the main event itself was indescribable. The dining room was another huge chamber filled with tables enough for several hundred people. Heaped upon them were endless platters of food.
What struck me as strange was the seating arrangement. In similar events on Earth, sitting near to the person presiding was a mark of favor. Often it was an opportunity for those who wanted something from said person in power to make their pitch.
Here I noticed a decided lack of enthusiasm for sitting too near She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. Thinking about my helpers, I could understand why. I’d no clue if social advancement here was very fast, but the plunge to the bottom could happen in a heartbeat, noble to servant just like that.
We were put in that rarified area within speaking distance of the Queen. Next to me was, wait for it, Gil’s brother Trey. He apparently decided to back off some, but was still determined to engage me in conversation. Turning on the charm, he wanted to know everything about Earth, life there, and me, if not in that order. Despite my determination to ignore him I found myself enjoying his company. His witty remarks and humor did much to help me enjoy this event I feared was going to turn into my last supper.
With all the courses of food, and with Herself right there, everything kinda ran together for me. Smitty, Big John and I had made sure we each knew to avoid intoxicants. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time was what had started all of this. Somehow, something got past me. Maybe I’d been slipped a mickey, or maybe one of the Princes at the table decided to take a hand. I don’t know.
I do remember clearly telling Trey, with the greatest of politeness, that I was heterosexual, in the hopes of discouraging whatever he had in mind. Silly me completely forgot what’d happened to the ‘girls.’
The last I remember I was gently put to bed. My girls crawled in with me, but it didn’t feel right. You know, like I was taking advantage of their programming. Perhaps if I’d known what was going to happen, I would’ve done the deed anyways.
Softy they told me they had no other bed but mine. Drunk half out of my mind, I politely discouraged their attentions. I just wanted to sleep. Not thinking any too clearly, I mumbled something about them keeping to their side, and I would keep to mine. The damn bed was huge anyways so I didn’t think there would be a problem. No, that happened when I woke up.
As usual for anyone drinking way too much the night before, it was my bladder that got me moving in the morning. Opening my eyes, I found myself the center in a girl sandwich. Of course that meant I was spooned against one of them.
Truth was it felt really nice. I’d always been a little touchy feely and this was like being awakened by a nice hug. The one in back had her arms around me while the girl in front had a hold on my arms that were wrapped around her. It took me a little longer to see they’d under gone some changes during the night. I could only see the back of her head after all, but her straight dark brunette hair was now a curly red very similar to mine. What I could see of her shoulder indicated her dark creamy complexion was now fair as my own.
Blinking away sleep, but with my pressing need, I got disentangled from their arms and legs stumbling to the bathroom. I’d never been a big drinker and avoided it for the most part. A little time of chemical induced happiness followed by hours of misery wasn’t worth it.
My eyes still half shut from sleep and unsteady on my feet, I stumbled, unsteadily to their version of the porcelain throne. My wake up call didn’t happen till I sat down reaching to point myself in the right direction. I didn’t find anything!
A cold bolt of fear washed over me. Frantically, my hands searched my groin looking for something that wasn’t there anymore. What I did find didn’t make me very happy. Now fully awake, the reason for my wobbling was crystal clear. Being top heavy will do that. I had breasts, and much longer locks of curly red hair spilled over my shoulders.
As much as I was freaked out, part of me was happy. Don’t you just love contradictions? However nature was going to have her way and I had to go. The relief as my bladder emptied was nearly matched by my dismay at the mess I’d made. Sure I got it all in the bowl, but I’d splattered all over myself.
While wiping myself I must’ve been making some outrageous faces. My two girls now awake were doing that cute 'hiding their giggles behind their hands thing.' Okay I admit it, I’m a neat-nick. This female thing was just … messy. Hey I had to clean up my own pee from myself! And let’s not even talk about that end of month thing. Being male was much better. Urine elimination? Just point and shoot. Cleanup was a few drops at the end easily taken care of with a dab of TP. Reproduction of the species? Plug and play. No periods with those clamps and all that smelly, messy bleeding. Being male was nice, easy, and convenient.
Sighing, I stood up as the girls hurried up to me. They seemed a little worried or maybe confused about their changes too. Should’ve done this yesterday, but my gray matter processor was too overloaded at the time.
I really looked at the two now. They weren’t identical, but did resemble each other as if they were sisters. At a guess, both looked to be in their late teens, 18 or19. They still had their almond eyes and, if anything, the slant was more pronounced. Speaking of eyes, one was the rich green of fine jade while the other's were the gold sprinkled green sometimes called hazel. Like I noticed before both of them now had red hair and fair skin. Freckles too, but unlike normal people cursed with the sun-burning problem, theirs were in a pattern somewhat like that of leopards. Almost like they’d been airbrushed, Oh shit!
Years ago in my struggling artist phase I’d tried to do a series of semi-exotic drawings with freckles in animal like arrangements. Like a lot of my art, nice idea, but I lacked the knowledge and skill to carry it out. However, both girls looked almost exactly I’d envisioned back then.
Firmly, I resisted running to the nearest mirror. There were other things to do first.
I gestured for them to come to me opening my arms. That was all the invitation they needed. Hugging them, I comforted, “It’s alright. Just someone having some fun at our expense.”
It was then it really hit me that we were all nude. Okay, maybe I was really out of it because of over indulging, but that I should’ve noticed! Time to finish this up before things got more out of control. However once again I had responsibilities.
I tilted up jade eyes’ face. “What’s your name?”
She replied, “Whatever you desire it to be mas… Mistress?”
I reassured them again with a hug. “I’m not a mistress or master.” Remembering my role-playing I tried, “My name is Stewart, or Stew for short. It pleases me for you both to address me as such, understand?”
“If you could be named anything you wished, what would it be?” I asked again taking a different tack.
Both gave me blank looks. Okay, looks like we’re down to plan C. “Okay,” I told jade eye’s, “Until you know, I’m going to call you Tara, alright?” Her innocent face bloomed into happiness as if I’d just announced a shopping trip to Tiffany’s with an unlimited credit card.
As she was jumping up and down in joy, I turned to hazel eyes. It seemed I could see the yearning in her to also be named. Frankly it made me mad as hell. Okay this was another culture and even an whole different universe, but to do what was done to these two rubbed me the wrong way. That’s not considering the entrapment of them being given to us. If we didn’t accept, then the girls would be open to more abuse from others, but if we did it was going along with what was done, Argh!
Maybe she was programmed this way, but it just wasn’t in me to be mean to her. “You too,” I told her, “You’ll be Bridget until you find one of your own okay?”
She jumped up and down happy too. The ‘problem’ I had with that couldn’t ‘grow’ anymore, but being nude, both the newly named Tara and Bridget noticed. Twin points and moist, didn’t make me happy.
It took some gentle persuasion to guide them to getting all of us dressed. I won’t say I didn’t want more or that it didn’t feel good. I will say now was not the time. Additionally with all of us prancing around unconcerned and undressed, I was worried that more than my body might’ve been altered. Perhaps some nudist or exhibitionism tendencies added to all of us?
A quick browsing of the closet held a variety of styles all designed to highlight my considerable cleavage. Hell, I wasn’t sure where all these clothes came from, but they were certainly more daring than I was prepared for at present. However with a little mixing and matching we found a short bolero that worked, easing my discomfort at my ‘cleavage’ factor.
Since here women wore pants, we found a pair of tight dark green trousers that were almost like tights or leggings. With the lacy lighter green blouse and darker bolero, the outfit was damn revealing even if it wasn’t showing skin. Adding in the heels from the silver buckled shoes, I felt as if I was dressed as a woman. That was both good and bad.
Steeling myself I went to face my hardest critic, the mirror. They giggled at my opened mouth. Compared to them, they were just the rough sketch and I was the master’s finished piece. My eyes were like bright emeralds and were very visibly slanted. Rather than a smattering of freckles where I’d gotten some sun, they were in a pattern much like the girls. Mine started about my thin arched eyebrows highlighting them and running about my eyes. It gave a natural looking mascara look, but also heighten the feline appearance with the mask like markings some cats have.
I’d already guessed at the hourglass figure. The green clothing set off my crowning glory, my hair. It wasn’t just red now. It glowed with golds and were deepened with browns in perfect layering. My auburn curls came half way down my back in a brilliant fall of colors.
The woman looking back at was absolutely gorgeous. I think I was in love. Well, if not for the little problem that she was me. Just maybe if I knew that this was merely temporary, I would’ve enjoyed this more. Part of me was relishing this anyways. But knowing I was a innie underneath all of this stole a lot of the pleasure.
Sighing I asked Tara and Bridget, “So what do you think?”
Tara said still unsure about how to address me, “Stewart? You’re beautiful.”
Bridget, more shy, just nodded, sending her red curls bouncing.
Giving that critic in the mirror their just due, I replied, “All three of us are beautiful.”
It was true. Someone definitely had been peeking into my mind. They’d taken this old idea and given it life using us as their living canvas. It was also true that we were a matched set. I hadn’t lost any of my height and still had more than half a foot on the girls. They were there to accent me as the center piece.
I had to compliment the artist, right before I tore their head off. Prince, Demi-god or whatever, I wasn’t asked, and even if I had, I certainly would’ve said Hell No. I might have a thing for feminine things, but that was my business as well as my burden thank you very much.
Thinking about my temper that came along with the red hair, I wondered how to find Gil. If the old Stew was going to reappear it would have to be with his help.
Just then the door opened and one of the many servants entered. She announced that breakfast was being served for the friends of Prince Gilmarion.
As jaded as everyone who worked here had to be, even she gave a double take at our appearance.
Smiling because I really wanted to have the pleasure of hurting the person responsible, I gestured for Tara and Bridget to come with me. “Please lead on.”
As we walked the short way to a veranda, the girls and I continued to turn heads. When everyone is dark, petite, busty red heads tend to stand out. A pair of servants opened the French style doors for myself and my entourage.
Big John had his back to me, but Smitty’s mouth dropped open as he saw us. I didn’t see Gil, so I took a seat with the girls standing behind me.
“Good morning guys,” I greeted. “Have you seen Gil? There’s something I need to talk to him about.” I said failing to hide the venom in my voice.
Poor John had a mouthful of something that he promptly spit out, choking.
Smitty stared before asking incredulously, “Stew?”
I nodded.
On the table were bowls of fresh fruit of some type, cheeses, and rolls. I helped myself to some of each. “Girls, are you permitted to eat with us?” I asked.
“No, Stewart,” Tara answered still being the more adventurous.
I wanted them with me to make a point that I hoped held some weight, but not at their expense. “Please the both of you go and eat. After you finish, I need you two to attend me today.”
His eyes watering, Big John asked, “What the hell happened to you?”
I paused chewing something that tasted like apple but more juicy. “That’s what I want to know. Someone slipped me something really strong last night at dinner. I only half remember being put to bed. When I got up this morning imagine my surprise,” I said with my voice dripping sarcasm.
Smitty and he looked at each other. “We didn’t get drunk last night and you seemed okay. The last we saw, Gil’s brother was walking with you back to your room.”
In disgust I dropped the bun I’d picked up. “Well that explains who’s probably responsible for this makeover, but not why.”
I got my answer as a voice behind explained. “It’s your hair of course. I’ve never seen such a glorious color before nor the wonderful waves and curls as it fell over your shoulders. Your fair complexion and those ’spots’ of yours are so different from the people here. Adding to the whole are your eyes which I don’t exaggerate when I say they bewitched me.”
My nails dug into the table, as felt the energy from my anger start to fill me. “Oh really?” I replied smiling baring my teeth.
Big John and Smitty’s eyes widened. They’d seen me lose my temper before. Generally speaking I’m a peaceable person. On the rare occasions I do lose it, I try to direct it away from harming anyone. This time I wanted very much to hurt someone.
Smitty as gingerly as if handling dynamite whispered, “Stew. Princes, Demi-gods, and full blown Goddesses here. Think about the consequences.”
I flashed him an look that said, “To hell with the price.”
Big John had a worried expression, but I could tell in a moment of crystal clarity that he was ready to tackle me.
Prince Treysorian stepped into sight. His dark eyes shone with approval at my appearance. “Oh yes. When I saw in your memories this delightful vision of yourself, I couldn’t resist bringing it to reality.”
My feral smile transformed into a snarl. “And what makes you think this is anything that I desired?”
Even mad as hell, this damn Prince’s appearance was telling me he was a beautiful woman. Crap, even his voice was enough in the tenor range to fool me. Dressed in much the same as last night in hose, a waistcoat that gave him a very slim profile and with his long hair in a ponytail, he still confused the hell out of my libido. Damn cultural differences.
Trey raised an eyebrow as if surprised, “You’re angry?”
Smitty ready to dodge the fireworks muttered, “More like pissed the hell off furious.”
Feeling like I was about to explode, I said sarcastically, “Why don’t you tell me since you’re the one who’s been messing around inside my head.”
He shook his head, “No I don’t need that to see that you’re upset. What I don’t understand is why? I clearly saw memories of enjoyment of the feminine and of wearing their attire. You are attracted to me and you said you had no desire to share a same sex relationship. I remedied those problems. Should you not be joyous?” Trey asked my friends whose eyes were bulging out at my secrets revealed.
Why don’t you out me to my friends why don’t you? What a frakking morning? Could it get any worse? Yeah a little voice told me. I could be simpering looking into Trey’s dark eyes eagerly waiting for him to tell me what my new name would be.
Trying to hold onto my control, I spat, “Let me start. I was male. I was very happy being male. On my world, those who as you say enjoy wearing feminine attire are called cross-dressers. Like most cross-dressers, I’m sexually attracted to females.
“This vision you’ve pulled out of my head was a fantasy. While part of me does like looking like this, because it’s a fantasy I have no desire to live out my life like this. That doesn’t take into account my body currently being female. I don’t like being female and I don’t want to be female.
“The reason I’m attracted to you is because by my culture’s standards, you look very much like a slim beautiful woman. The clothing here although very different from what is commonly worn, is cut in styles that would be thought feminine on our world.
“Perhaps my perceptions are different from my companions because of my cross-dressing In any case, you are male. I consider myself male as well regardless of present circumstances. There is no way that we can have a relationship even if my confused libido finds you attractive. Now if you would simply please change me back, I would really appreciate it!”
Trey’s face was a study as I ranted. When I finished, he’d such a hurt expression I almost felt bad. I had to remind myself for about the hundredth time that this was a he and not a she.
Then he smiled, “Oh I can fix that! There all done.”
I looked down at my hands but they were the same feminine hands I’d woken with. Experimentally I gently nudged my breasts and found they were still all me.
Then I remembered what I said. My head hit the back of my chair, oh no.
Smitty and Big John were looking at one of us and then the other wondering what was ‘done.’
I had to see to be sure. Moving my full bosom aside, there it was. My bulge was easily visible in the snug tights. Here we are ladies and gentlemen, Stewart the she male. I closed my eyes in pain.
I stood up and saw the guys eyes widen as they saw my ‘package.’ “Trey, that did not help. I’m still very angry, but I’m going to go off by myself before I say or do something that will get me in more trouble than I’m already in. If you see your brother Gil, please tell him I want to talk to him.”
Turning I walked along the balcony.
Trey said, “Why is Stewart still mad? I fixed the problem right?”
I could only imagine my friends expressions as I put distance between us. Finally I couldn’t hear them anymore and looked out over the country side. This was my first real look at this world. I half expected we were in a flying castle or something just as ostentatious. It very nearly was. The place was outrageously huge. Just the veranda was at least ten stories up and the one we were on wasn’t the only one. The grounds were just as large with painstakingly landscaped gardens including fountains and ponds. Over all it kind of reminded of the palace at Versailles, but much, much bigger.
The countryside beyond was full of rolling green hill with a few roads leading to what looked to be a city in the distance. It was all as if from a story book so perfect and peaceful.
Yeah right I sighed. Here I was male again, but quite literally my wildest fantasy. I studied my hands with their so precise freckles on the upper parts of my arms, but leaving the undersides pale and creamy free of any blemish. My nails were polished a deep brownish red meant to compliment my dark lips and deeper shades of my hair.
“You know he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong?” Gil asked from behind me.
I took a deep breath. “Here you both are godlings. Is anything you do wrong?”
He stood beside me. “Maybe not, but all of you are my friends and guests of Mother. He should’ve been more polite and asked.”
Hanging my head, I had a hard time talking about this. “I know that you both can see what’s in my head. If you can do that, you have to know I would’ve said no.”
He shook his head. “Stew, we’re not all powerful. We can as you say ‘read’ memories but we’re limited by our cultural background of how much we understand. Our ways are strange to you, but remember yours are just as strange to us.”
A moment of silence passed, “You know that part of me really likes this don’t you?” I asked.
Gil nodded letting me speak.
Sighing, I went on. “But I can’t stay like this no matter how much I might want it. All I’ve ever wanted was to fit in, but I’m neither fish nor fowl. Regardless how good I feel, this will only make me stand out even more.
Gil looked out over the countryside. “Stew I think you’re being far too self-conscious about this. There’s those on Earth that have modified themselves far more exotically than you are right now. Look at that fellow that had himself surgically modified to look like a tiger? Or any number of people with extreme piercings and entire body tattoos.”
Grudgingly I admitted, “I know. However, I have enough trouble finding a date now. How many women are going to go for a man that looks better than they do?
“It’s just, I’m too tied up in knots over dealing with my cross-dressing. I guess Trey fixated on my feminine side he saw in my head, while my libido keeps seeing him as a she. I know it’s the style of clothing and your racial characteristics, but even though my brains knows he’s an outie it’s not helping!
Softy Gil asked, “You like him don’t you?”
Blushing red, I answered, “That’s what makes it so bad. I don’t go for guys. I’ve wondered if one of you haven’t screwed with my perceptions.”
“Well,” Gil said rubbing his ear in thought, “Some of it might be because he is Patron of some the arts and you are an artist. It could also he simply likes red heads.”
I turned from the scenic landscape sighing, “You could be right. So despite my temper tantrum when can I expect to go back to the old me?”
Gil got this look that I knew didn’t bode well. “Well…, I talked to Trey and he says when you all go back to Earth he’ll transform you back. The problem is Mother wants to keep you here a few days. I’m not sure why. I think she might be examining you guys.
“I know I complain about this place being static and stale, but Mother isn’t a fool. She knows when a problem is developing. I think she is evaluating what changes to make by studying you guys and Earth.”
He shrugged, “I'm sorry, but this means you’re going to be stuck like this for a while.”
I breathed out heavily. The longer I was like this the worse it would be going back to drab. In this case really drab, and I feared it really would hurt. “Just absolutely wonderful! You do remember that we have classes and jobs I hope?” I said not sparing the sarcasm.
Gil winkled his brow. I wasn’t fooling him for one moment. He knew what I was really worried about. If I had to guess Trey knew how hard giving this up would be for me and that’s why his conditions.
“She said she would take care of it. As for Trey, we could go to her about it, but I really wouldn’t advise it.” My friend suggested.
I shuddered. While Gil and Trey seemed mostly human, Mother was well into that inhuman category. The how and whys she did things were in the unfathomable territory. What Mama wants, Mama gets. “No, I agree. That’s just too risky. I’m just going to have to live with this.”
The next four days were very much like the Charles Dickens quote that begins with, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” Trey brought me flowers. When I threw them in his face, he bought chocolates. After I gave them to Tara and Bridget, he dropped by with a bottle of wine.
I have no idea where he got the idea for all of this except maybe out of my own head. Maybe he thought he’d only a few days to woo me. I do know Smitty, Big John, Gil and the whole court here were laughing their asses off at him, me, and the entire freaking situation.
I asked point blank if he was willing to transform himself into a woman. Trey blanched saying except for very temporary exceptions, Mother disapproved. “Fine,” I replied, “I’m male and happy to stay that way. Sorry but I’m not into the gay thing. Romance is out of the question, so go away.”
The next evening I got serenaded as the moons rose. Yeah, this place had three of them for goodness sakes. Pointing out that he was a godling, Prince or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, he was going to live for umpteen times longer than me. Even if I was interested, which I wasn’t, I wanted a commitment that the myths and legends of my home said those like him were lousy in keeping. Dating was for finding out if you’re compatible or not. We already know we’re not, so for the last time, go away!
Think he took the clue? Hell no, of course not!
It wasn’t a total loss. Tara and Bridget went into orbit with their first taste of chocolate. Of course they had to pass some bits around and people started coming to me asking for more. I simply closed my eyes and sent them to the Trickster responsible.
Lucky for me my relationship with the girls had changed into more of a sisters thing. Despite my asking, we still had only the one bed even if it was big enough to a sleep an entire marching band without crowding. However still I woke every morning cuddled with them.
After the third day, of Trey’s gifts my room looked liked a damn florist shop with a chocolates counter. I had more than a few bottles of wines and champagne too, but since I’d gotten sloshed at dinner that first night I wasn’t about to open any of them.
I couldn’t complain about the dressing too much either since I’d two devoted maids who loved to make me look nice. It seemed my worry about their recent makeover into red heads was groundless. They got tons of attention from the rest of the staff that they enjoyed. I made sure it was no one was taking advantage of them since I was responsible for them, but it seems that the three of us were the only red heads here, period. This palace, nation, world and the whole damn universe according to Trey. We were quite literally the only ones of our kind.
My friends when they weren’t rolling on the floor at my expense, were having a blast. Here not only were they the star attractions of the moment, but giants as well. They never suffered for female companionship and never had to turn to their ‘gifts’ for relief.
I hated it, I loved it, and damn wasn’t I even more confused than when this frakking madness had begun! With Prince Treysorian plying me with gifts no woman even if she was attracted to my feminine form would dare risk his displeasure.
By the fourth day things got serious. He began offering gifts that had strings attached, think of engagement rings and the such. Acceptance was like signing a contract. After the first near miss, I got very wary. It was clear Trey was getting desperate. By the end of the day I’d turned down all manner of jewelry, clothes and even a horse. Don’t ask! I guess I should thankful that more livestock didn’t make an appearance.
The last morning I was a mixture of curiosity and dread about what my suitor would try next. Suitor? I can’t tell you how strange that felt. I had enough femininity to enjoy the thought, but like I kept telling a certain hardheaded Prince, it was impossible.
Surprising myself, I sat down and seriously thought about it. He did seem reasonably sincere and I did enjoy his company when he wasn’t trying to trick me into accepting his terms. The problem really hadn’t changed. Despite my femininity, the idea of fully becoming a biological woman just wasn’t me. I was a cross-dresser and not a transsexual. There wasn’t a woman trapped inside my man’s body, just me who was a little of this and a bit of that, not one or the other.
Maybe being a man had problems, but they were problems I knew. I just couldn’t make the leap into womanhood. That’s besides the other little problems like his being a godling. Staying here just was not a good idea. My big mouth would certainly get me in trouble. On the other hand he was a Prince here. He unlike Gil wasn’t a Prince of Travelers and Scholars. His job if you will was on Gaia. Nope, I was right the first time this couldn’t work. So why was I so depressed?
The girls did that cute little giggling thing again as they announced, “Prince Treysorian.”
Elegant as always but this time there was something different. Trey had played up his feminine features this time. His clothes were cut to narrow his waist while his dark hair was left unbound from its usual ribboned ponytail.
Kissing my hand, he looked into my eyes, “Please do me the honor of having breakfast with you this morning,” he asked.
Knowing I should say no, I nodded anyways.
Taking my arm he escorted me to the same veranda as before. I half expected some ridiculous display, but instead it was relatively simple. The Waffle House it wasn’t with the fine china and real silver silverware.
The tension was such I don’t think a knife would’ve cut it. It was more like steel cables that entangled both of us in some weird and very strange ways. Finally he asked, “Stewart please don’t go. You and I know you’re much happier in this form. I accept that we have difficulties to overcome, but you’re like a light in the darkness. Give us a chance to overcome these problems.”
I found myself looking into his eyes and thinking how beautiful they were. “I’m sorry Trey, but you’re a Prince, and I’m a mortal. I don’t belong here and need to go home before I open my big mouth and get into more trouble.”
Standing up, I held back my tears. Prince or not he looked as if he was doing the same. Using a strength I didn’t feel I said, “Goodbye Trey.”
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Tara and Bridget were with me trying to comfort me. Something in me wouldn’t let me break down with them present. I guess I was trying to be strong for them. We ended up in the throne room again. Smitty and Big John had a throng of well wishers, but I was a little surprised to find I had some as well. My treating everyone I met as people made me more than a few friends among the staff.
It took an act of will not to look for him. I’d said my goodbyes.
Getting this show underway, that damn voice announced, “Smitty, Big John, and Stew, the honored friends and companions of Prince Gilmarion.”
Geez! The use of our nicknames in such a formal environment made me feel like we were in a cheap comedy film.
Mother, sitting on her three story throne, stood. Instantly, everyone's attention was riveted on her. She once more gradually shrank as she walked towards us. Okay, a comedy film with a really big special effects budget.
Approaching us I saw her smiling at Big John, and the idiot grinned back in a way that could only mean one thing.
I stared at him, not wanting to know what I think he might’ve done with our friend’s Mother. Shocked, I glanced at Smitty, but he seemed as stunned as I. Gil however rolled his eyes. Alright, maybe I had a better idea at why she’d kept us here all weekend now.
She, still nearly foot taller than my six four friend, kissed him on the cheek as she whispered something in his ear making him turn very red.
Then she did the same to Smitty, despite his obvious discomfort. Whispering in his ear, he glanced at his group of twittering well wishers, causing them to giggle even more.
Mother turned to me. Oh boy, my turn. Being kissed on the cheek by a seven feet plus woman gave me flashbacks to back when I was eight with my Mom.
She said softy in my ear, “You’re a fool.”
What could I possibly say to that? “I know.”
Mother looked into my eyes. Once more I saw the dark void of everything and yet nothing. Unlike my friends, she gently hugged me.
Stepping back, she said to all, “Today we bid goodbye to my son’s guests. They have entertained and educated us. No one acquired any debts, for all were enriched.”
Mother raised her hand and one of those doors appeared in midair. “Farewell, be happy.”
Just like SG-1, we stepped though the gate. We were in Gil’s living room with our gaming stuff still on the table. The only proof that anything remarkable had occurred were the six girls with us. Tara and Bridget’s green staff dresses were replaced with blouses of about the same color and jeans. With their cross-trainers, they were just another pair of co-eds.
Big John’s two could also pass although their Daisy Dukes and bare midriff halter tops were pushing it. We all stared at Smitty. If you've ever seen a fantasy version of the classic French maid uniform, you know why.
He gave us an innocent uncomprehending expression. “What? They’re supposed to be maids right? They’re just dressed the part.”
Smitty seeing our disbelieve, changed the subject. He grinned at me. “Hey man! You’re back.”
Looking down, I was flat male chested Stew again. A bottomless pit of loss opened up inside my heart. Fighting the haze threatening to overcome me, I found the bathroom mirror. My critic within crackled with evil glee. The me that wasn’t me was back. I mean there I was, but that couldn’t be right.
I threw up in the sink. Holding onto its edge for dear life, eyes in so much pain stared back into my own. Blackness danced on the edges of my vision.
One of the guys asked, “Hey, are you alright?”
I tried to answer, but the world was drifting away.
Gil, I think, said from beside me, “It’s alright. I’ve got it.”
Consciousness came because it hurt to much to hide in sleep any longer. I expected it to hurt, but nothing prepared me for that. It reminded of a blog I read about a transsexual who’d attempted to re-transition back into her male identity. It’d nearly killed her.
My Gawd, had that been what I’d done? Had I transitioned so completely in only a week? I hugged my pillow ferociously, as a drowning man would a life preserver. Burning tears ran down cheeks, until my ’pillow’ hugged me back. Startled, I found Bridget’s green eyes full of compassion as she smoothed my masculine thinning hair.
I tried to push her away. Shame, guilt and I are old companions. I wanted to wallow in my misery alone. Tara joined her sister and, together, they held me. At last I gave up fighting them, letting myself cry.
Looking around, I was back in my apartment. However, now it was clean and the usual clutter of books and art supplies neatly put away. Adding to my surprise were the pizza boxes.
Before I could ask how, Tara bought in a paper plate with a slice. “You need to eat Stew. It’s late evening and your stomach is empty from being sick.”
Bridget hadn’t left my side. Her jade eyes promised that I was going to be babied whether I liked it or not.
Between bites I asked, “Who ordered the pizza?”
Tara answered, “Prince Gilmarion showed us how. He also demonstrated many of the wondrous appliances in your kitchen. During your stay at the palace we learned how to speak, as well as read and write your language so we could better serve you. Along with that were many of your customs.”
I tried to reply, but Bridget insisted on me eating.
The glance they exchanged however said they knew what I was going to say. Bridget said, “Stew, we know what happened to us. Our fate was to be made into servants. Who we were is lost forever. Who we are now is limited by what our owners want us to be. It’s something we can’t, and don’t, want to fight. Being obedient gives us a sense of happiness and purpose.
“Very few open their hearts and families, making us a part of their lives like you have. You call us your sisters and you look after us, but you don’t command. From the very beginning you’ve encouraged us to become all that we can be. Perhaps we have no choice except to obey, but we also have love. That is ours and we give it to you. Now shut up and eat!” She demanded with a smirk.
Hugging them, I did as I was told.
The next few days were interesting. For one thing we’d gained a day somehow. We had a four day holiday. We met on a Friday, and spent that night, plus four others, as guests of Mother. That makes five total, so how come today was Monday?
Time travel or different rates of passage between universes was the answer. I still had to go to work tomorrow morning if I wanted holiday pay for Friday and Monday. You always had to work the very next day after to get paid. That meant, no matter how bad I felt, I had to go. Not fun.
The good was having dinner and welcoming arms when I got home. More strangeness was finding out Gil gave Tara and Bridget credit cards. The Visa logo gold cards even had their holo pictures in the corners. Hell, I couldn’t afford having a credit card. Too damn much temptation when things get bad.
Calling Gil, he assured me they were for the girls to better serve me. Neither they nor me would be surprised by the end of the month statements. I really didn’t like the idea, but truthfully I couldn’t support them. I liked the idea of having sisters, but I reasoned as long as they didn’t go crazy with spending it was okay.
He also gave me the number to the Talmarris Law firm, which took care of the girl’s cards, as well as handling my legal case. Doing a internet search showed they handled primarily corporate and financial cases. The firm’s website showed the same three guys Mother sent though four days ago, but according to the site, the firm was formed ten years ago!
Did she somehow retroactively simply make the company appear, or did she send those guys all those years into the past to set all of this up, just to handle my simple settlement case? From what I could read they had a good reputation and were solidly in the money. No wonder Gil warned us about being careful with what we said. On the other hand it also gave her agents here a base of operations in our world. I wondered if I should be afraid?
I was really glad the girls were so protective, given my fragility. I don’t think I would’ve done something stupid, but I was happy not to have it put to the test.
All I wanted was to forget about those four days and get back to normal. My evil critic in every mirror I passed, refused to let that happen. Each glance rubbed in just how much I didn’t like what I saw. If that wasn’t enough, Trey sent a huge package by way of Gil, of flowers and chocolates. At least he left out the horse this time. The note asked, begged, for me to give him a chance of finding a solution to our insolvable dilemma.
Hah! I already figured that one out. All I had to do was murder part of myself. Here, just zap the gray cells that say I’m heterosexual. See? No more problem! However I just couldn’t do it. Maybe the inside of my head is a mess, but that is what made me who I am. I really did think about it, but the more I did, the more it seemed like a kind of suicide.
I sent a note back, saying I was touched that he still cared, but it was still impossible, so please stop. That was another bad night, with Tara and Bridget cuddling me till I finally cried myself out.
The next week, the Talmarris Agency called, saying they’d resolved my case and my settlement check was ready for pickup. I had met with my Three Stooges prior to this to discuss the case. Smiling, they assured me it was a piece of cake. Actually they thanked me. With their trip into the past to go to law school here and build up their agency, they’d had much more freedom than back home. Without my little legal problem they never would’ve gotten the opportunity.
That brings us up to now, with Gil walking though the doors. His dark eyes were stormy, and the three guys were trying to sink into the wood work.
We were all surprised when he marched right up to me! “Alright! This stops now. The two of you are dragging others into this romantic tragedy of yours. The Talmarris Brothers here had my brother strong arming them into sneaking in clauses that seriously compromised their professional ethics, and your servants are frantic you’re going to step in front of a bus.
“Why Mother hasn’t already taken a hand, I have no clue. You’re my friend and it hurts to see you tear yourself up like this. He’s my brother, and despite our differences, is also dear to me. This has gone on long enough. You hear me?” Gil asked.
It was as if the inner walls of my very sense of self were under siege. Tears flowed, as I fell ever nearer a breakdown. The fragile dam of my male persona threatened to collapse. “I’ve tried to tell him it’s impossible. There’re things I can’t give up and still remain me.” I sobbed, embarrassed at my lack of control.
He held me. “Then compromise. It doesn’t have to all from you. I’m the first to admit that Princes have some strange romantic arrangements on occasion. Look at some of your own myths and legends.”
“You need to stop worrying about what others think, and live your life. Do what is right for you. The world is a vast place full of possibilities and wonders. Don’t let those so afraid of their own shadows that they have to simplify everything like children scared of the dark, rule your life.” my friend told me.
Moe passed me a box of tissues. I felt ashamed by the way I’d made fun of them, even if only in my thoughts. They, after all, had been caught in the middle of this through no fault of their own.
Then, the thought smacked me in the head! Compromise in the middle!
Gil looked at me. “You’ve an idea don’t you?”
I nodded, “Yes I do, but I warn you it’s a really weird one.”
He smiled, “I don’t care if it can get both of you out of this funk. Talk to the brothers here. They’re familiar with Earth and Gaia, as well as knowing the legal precedents of both. Work it out.”
“Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to my studies.” With that, he was gone.
Guiltily, I looked at the three. “I’m sorry about all of this, I really am.”
Straightening their expensive suits, they all took deep breaths. Larry said, “We’re still indebted to you for our positions here. Dealing directly with patrons are always stressful events. It comes with the territory. Now what is this idea of yours?”
A week later I was back in their offices. This time however I was a nervous as a girl about to tell the love of her life a very difficult thing. Well, I was in part a girl, and this was very difficult.
One of Mother’s doors to Gaia opened, and out stepped Trey. It might have been my imagination, but he seemed as worn at heart as I felt. Still, my heart jumped at the sight of him.
His smile gave me warm flutters. That reassured me that there really was something between us besides your garden variety lust. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.
He looked around, but his cultured eyebrows rose when he saw we were alone.
I stood, and despite being in my male persona, I hugged him.
Trey gave me more reason to think this wasn’t a waste as he said, “I’ve missed you.”
Dragging myself from his dark eyes, I explained, “I wanted to talk to you first about what I had in mind. If you think it’ll work, then we’ll call the brothers in to help work out the details and lay out concerns from their point of view. Okay?,” I asked.
Forcing my hand to not shake, I slid the paper with my proposal to him. I didn’t trust my voice to tell him myself.
Taking it, his brows rose again, as he began to read. I think they rose even more as he got to the bottom.
I was holding my breath as he looked up. “Are you sure about this?” He asked still thinking about the ramifications.
Sighing I replied, “I’ve heard a definition of compromise being as two people giving up something they want and only getting part of it back. The three brothers think, since the tradition of cross-gender roles are as important in Gaia's theater as they are here, Mother will let you get away with it. For that matter, the spy and trickster things go along with that. It shouldn’t affect your Prince’s aspect, like changing your gender and sex would, which was Mother’s real objection, right?”
Trey grimaced, “I really wasn’t all that thrilled with the notion either, but you drive me so crazy I was ready to consider it. I can’t say it made me unhappy to have Mother flat out deny it.”
Forcing my voice to stay level, I pressed him, “And this?”
It was his turn to sigh, “It’s exactly what you called it, a compromise. You have the more obvious and startling transformation, but I’m perhaps pushed out of my comfort zone a little more, despite my bi-sexuality.”
I acknowledged that. “Yes, I do have a feminine side and you don’t. However, your changes will be almost completely hidden, mine won’t be. Plus there’s the matter of living arrangements. I fully intend on completing my degree. Being practical, I’ll have to accept your offer of support since I’ll need an entirely new wardrobe. Also, if I’m crossing worlds as often as it looks like I will be, to spend time with you, I’ll have to quit work in order to keep up my studies. That does not mean that after I graduate, I won’t go looking for work. The question is, can you deal with my independence?”
Trey took my hand. “Yes, as long as you can deal with being spoiled when we’re together.”
Feeling my own arousal, I pointed out. “You know this may not work. We will be quite literally made for each other, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be able to make this work. Speaking of which, do the suggested alterations meet more or less with your approval?”
Still holding my hand, he smiled. “I’m rather surprised you’re willing to use your artistic vision that I saw, so completely. You did have some serious issues with standing out. However, since you asked, your suggestions are well reasoned. The only major change I would suggest would be your height.”
I returned his smile, “It’s only the freckles that stand out in those paintings. The girls’ skills with makeup and concealer can hide those. As for fitting in, if we can make this work, I don’t need anyone else. My height? I might be a bit tall for a woman, but not extremely so. I’m not about to become petite for you!”
His eyes twinkled, “I love how beautifully your eyes flash when you’re angry. If I might explain. Your proposed changes in our relationship outwardly cast me in the traditional male role and you in the woman’s. You don’t appear to have a problem with that, correct?”
I grudgingly admitted that. “Okay, I think that sounds right. I’m a far cry from being submissive, or you from a dominant, but yeah. More like equals, leaning towards the traditional roles.”
He stood, pulling me to my feet. “Using your scale of measurement I’m six feet tall and you’re five eight. You like to wear much higher heels, so that puts us at roughly the same height. I’m suggesting you become an inch or two shorter, so I’m taller in social situations. Perhaps, since we’re compromising, I grow an inch and you shrink an inch to make it fair. That way our social roles are more clearly defined.”
I gave him a suspicious glare. “Is that your only reason? Just so you can lord it over me by being taller?”
With me still as the same old guy, Stewart, in flat tennis shoes, he was taller than I anyway.
Trey said, “No. I like holding you, and being taller lets me get more of you in my arms.”
Okay, maybe I needed to reevaluate that submissive thing, shivering deliciously at the thought. I said, “Good answer. Ready to call in the lawyers, and start our first, or maybe it’s our second, fight?”
He shook his head, grinning. “No, not a fight at all. I was, as they say on this world, asking you to date and you kept saying no. I’m looking forward to our first.”
I waggled a finger at him. “Hold on Mister. The lawyers don’t normally get called until the romance is dead, not for pre-date agreements. If there’s any chance at a we, there’re mountains of problems to overcome. Even if my compromise works, we have your godhood, me being mortal, this being a long distance relationship, and the fact that none of your aspects are particularly known for doing well in the long haul with romance. Spies, theater people, not to mention tricksters, may be dashing, but are, let’s say, ‘domestically challenged.’ Let‘s not forget my own hang-ups that I’m going to end up flashing at the whole world.”
Now holding both of my hands, Trey asked intently, “So why bother trying?”
I was all too aware of those feminine habits I picked up over those four days in that other universe. Even looking like my guy self, I found myself slipping into the feminine. “Because I can’t keep from thinking about you. Those days as my own art gave me a freedom that haunts me still.”
Softly he asked, “Is all of this because you want to return to your leopard girl identity, or is it because of me?”
I shrugged helplessly, “I truthfully don’t know. Inside my heart everything is all mixed up. That’s why, all of this will, hopefully, give both of us the opportunity to sort out exactly what we feel about each other. Then we’ll go on from there. Fair enough?” I asked.
“Fair enough,” he replied. “Lawyers?”
I nodded, “Lawyers.”
One year later
I refreshed my lipstick, daring my inner critic to say a word. Looking at the exotically beautiful woman in the mirror, she passed muster. My normal distinctive leopard spot-like freckles were covered, given we were out in public.
One year later, here we are again, in the Stooges office. Smiling at the memory, I’d let slip that I’d privately named them that. I’d gotten a surprise to see the normally reserved, somber lawyers break out into big grins. They loved the Stooges.
Over the past year, I’d spent a lot of time here, since this was Mother’s hidden unofficial embassy to Earth. I was happy she didn’t want to invade or anything. As far as I could see, she wanted to see how us Earthlings did things, and if she could use similar methods in her kingdom. Conservative didn’t come close to how slowly she adapted, but it did happen.
To either side of me, Tara and Bridget were nearly bouncing in excitement. I swear you'd think it was them who were about to take this life changing step. If all went well they would start classes this fall. Both girls still considered me to be their job, but I convinced them they could better serve by broadening their horizons. I guess I could’ve commanded them, but I couldn't do that. They’d become, in truth, the sisters and friends I’d first called them.
Needless to say, this came as a shock to my parents. Revealing my extreme makeover shocked them right down to their ultra conservative roots. I think the only reason I wasn’t kidnapped and taken to some cultist hangout to be de-programed, was because of my Stooges. After my parents made their views clear, restraining orders were put into the works.
I know they would never believe it, but it was for their own safety. If they’d carried out their threat, I shuddered to think what Gil, not to mention Trey, would have done. Still they were my parents, and I stubbornly loved them, even as they disowned me.
They'd provided very little scholastic financial support anyway, forcing me to work my way though school on my own. Builds character they claimed. I’ve wondered if I’m a kept woman now, since Trey, though the Stooges provided for me. However, with me jumping between worlds, educating my sisters about Earth, as well as taking a full class load, I had no time at all. I wasn’t complaining. I was exhausted sometimes, but happy summed it up.
Stepping out to get to our meeting on time, the hall was full of those waiting for us to get started. My friends, Smitty and Big John, looked uncomfortable in their suits, but showing up in their usual attire of jeans and tees didn’t fit the occasion.
They’d taken all of this much better than I thought they would. In a frank talk, they told me they had known all along that I had some kind of gender bending thing going on, since I played feminine characters whenever I could. In short, I was their friend, so shut up and roll the dice. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to play as much as I used to, but life is all about change. The reason why we were all here was a prime example.
I smiled at Trey waiting for me. He was beautiful. His long, blacker than midnight hair, gleamed, but his height and slimness still confused most as to his actual sex and gender. I knew the truth of course.
He still laughed at me. Of course he was beautiful! I was the artist who’d envisioned his present form, painted him if you will. I will admit a certain amount of satisfaction with my artistic endeavors now. I wondered how much having a godling of the arts as my lover, helped.
My sisters giggled at us as Trey and I lost ourselves in each other’s eyes. Always my minders, they chivvied us into the conference room.
Eyes shining I stuck out my tongue at them, making a face, as Trey shut the doors. We were alone.
I could see the slight swell of his small breasts and other small clues. He was much more feminine than any casual observer could guess. Those changes had bothered him more at first than even the extra genital. “Here we are again. We’ve had our year. The question is, do we suit each other?”
His expression made me want to swoon. “Do you have to ask?” He said, with a devil may care smirk.
Turning a little serious, I answered, “Yes. Perhaps others can assume such things in their relationships, but we can’t. We have complications galore with gender, sex, and other things most don’t have to worry about. For instance your breasts. I know they bothered you at first, do they still?”
He dramatically put his hand over his heart. “You wound me, my lady!” Then, more wryly, he added, “You’re right. I know, compared to yours, they’re small, but they are there. Before, I never noticed them at all, but these larger feminine ones are a different story.”
He gave me an loving smile, “I think they, more than anything else, made realize just how you saw me. Knowing you found them attractive on me because they made me more feminine, was a blow to my male ego. However, my love for you more than made up for that. Besides, that very sensitivity that makes them annoying at times, has its fringe benefits,” he said huskily, causing me to blush.
Taking my hand and kissing it, Trey asked, “And you my lady?”
Feeling my own body washing itself in warmth and arousal, I replied, “For me the most stressful thing about all of this was coming out. I didn’t want to give up what I’d accomplished, even as modest as those accomplishments might be.”
He nodded, remembering those early days. Since it was the summer session anyway, I took a short leave of absence from school citing medical reasons. I reappeared in the fall, saying I’d transitioned to female. Apparently my leopard girl resembled me more I realized, since nearly everyone recognized me after having their eyes opened.
Looking into his eyes, I had to make him understand this next portion. “The next hardest was the sex. You see yourself as male, and I do have my feminine side. Having my, hmmm…, new equipment worked out so often was interesting. On the whole, I enjoyed it a lot, but it took some adjustment.”
It was his turn to blush. “That I understand. The first time you took me, I won’t claim I loved it. Even as a bisexual, the experience was very different. But I’ve grown to rather like it, from time to time. Just so you know, I still prefer taking the male role. Is that going to be a problem?” His eyes looked into mine with real concern.
Touching his face gently, I said, “I know. We do tend to use the male when we trade off on who’s the aggressor in our relationship. That may grow to be a problem, but I don’t think it is right now. As long as I get to be on top sometime, I’m content.”
Then, a little hesitantly, because I knew this could be a deal breaker, I asked, “And the femininity?”
Trey chuckled, “Believe it or not I’ve rather enjoyed it. Perhaps it’s the trickster in me. I am, like I said, mostly masculine, but letting my femininity out has proved educational.” Laughing, he added, “Mother has even commented that she likes the changes it’s had in the theater. Apparently, in my Princely aspect as patron, it has improved their performances.”
I had to agree with that. After seeing a few of Gaia’s entertainments, they seemed rather clichéd and lifeless to me. Which brought up another question. “So, this hasn’t harmed your ‘job’ performance?,” I asked making the ditto marks gesture.
“No,” he replied. “If anything, like I said it’s helped. However, don’t expect me to give up my male wardrobe anytime soon.” Grinning, he added, “You do know that there are those who are calling you the Patroness of the Arts? Princess Kala, the talented and the inspiring.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. “Yeah right. Sorry. I'm just a plain everyday mortal.” Since Stewart wasn’t much of a woman’s name, I spent some time researching a new one. Being overly clever, I decided on Kala which was Hawaiian for Lady or Princess. It wasn’t till later I found out about the other meaning, that it was Sanskrit for the goddess of fine arts.
Giving me a trying expression, Trey scolded, “Not so plain or simple. You know from your own mythology of the strange fate of gods and the mortals who love them. For example, how would you describe us?”
Sighing, I still had this thing about fitting in, but the past year helped me to get over it a little. “No terms really fit, but the closest might be, true hermaphrodites with Partial Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome. Like the Greek god, Hermaphroditus, we have the sexual organs of both sexes. We both have selective Androgen Insensitivity, allowing both of us to have varying degrees of primary and secondary female sexual characteristics, but still able to function as males.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. Softly, I named us, “A compromise.”
He tilted my face upwards towards his, “Tell me this, Kala. Are you happy?”
I parted my lips in answer.
After our kiss, I snuggled happily in his arms asking, “Are we really ready to do this?”
Trey smoothed my hair. “I think we'd better. Otherwise, you’re about to end up ravished on the conference table!”
Eyes flashing, I grinned, “What’s keeping you?”
Ruefully, he glared at the double doors. “The dozen or so people waiting outside? So, do we call in the lawyers and get this pre-nuptial business over with?”
Playfully, I asked, “Lawyers?”
Passionately, he agreed, “Lawyers.”
I was all alone nearly 10 miles above the Earth.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Chapter One
I was all alone nearly 10 miles above the Earth. It was absurdly ironic that I rode the most advanced aircraft the US Air Force had ever developed, and it was completely electrical free. No smart multifunction screens or so much as a battery powered light rode on this bird. My instruments would've been right at home in the old fabric covered biplanes if they hadn't, like everything else on this bird, been stripped of anything metallic or radar reflective and made as light as possible.
On the other hand, a Shadow Flyer wasn't unpowered for all it resembled a glider. Most certainly it was underpowered using a compressed air-driven shrouded impeller, but it did have power. Hell, it even had a small compressor powered by my body heat, by way of a low compression sterling engine, to refill the air-tanks. Needless to say it was a slow process, but it worked. Besides the cutting edge materials of my flight/pressure suit that harnessed that heat kept me from freezing this far above Mother Earth.
I'm told my grandparent's generation laughed when the Chinese launched their first rockets into space. They even have a space program? However, my fellow Colorado Springs Cadets wondered and worried when the first Chinese Space Stations were put up and became even more concerned when their space to Earth power-sats went on line.
After Hawaii, no one is laughing.
Nothing that could produce any kind of electrical or magnetic field could be chanced on-board this bird. That was why a good old fashioned human being was behind the stick and rudder of this flying bomb instead of a computer or data-link from the ground. What little heat and detectable emanations I produced were carefully shielded by the small cramped cockpit.
Taking a star reading, I checked my maps and charts by glow stick. I'd drifted a little off course, but that was easily fixed. I was 'feet dry,' over land and officially in Injun Country. Glancing down at Red China, I had to smirk that it didn't look red. Even though the US, Korea, Japan and Taiwan were officially at war with the People's Republic of China, the PRC hadn't even bothered with blackouts. I could see their cities lit up far down below.
I suppose after destroying the US 7th Fleet and having troops on the ground in Taiwan, they felt like they'd already won. South Korea and Japan, which were still major US Allies, technically remained at at war with them, but were under an informal ceasefire. Japan, with all of its volcanoes, was spooked as hell that they would be the next Hawaii. I can't blame them too much since the resulting tsunami from Hawaii had been as bad as the one from that bad quake they had a few years before. South Korea couldn't forget that their unstable northern neighbor, North Korea with its massive army, was still allied with Red China.
My chronometer and airspeed indicator gave me the numbers I needed, two more hours. The rubbery taste from the air mask was becoming as annoying as being nearly being unable to move in the tight space. Our trainers had briefed us on the fighter pilots of WWII over Europe and the long extended missions they used to fly in much the same conditions.
This mission was just as long as any of theirs and certainly more dangerous. It was no lie when I said I'd signed up for a suicide flight. Oh, sure we had a chance to make it back, but really, on foot in China with only the contents of one small bag?
The odds were not good.
Most of us privately decided to make damn sure our payload had active terminal guidance all the way to the target if you know what I mean. It would be a ride into glory like no other just like Slim Pickens' riding his H-bomb to heaven or hell.
At first I'd agreed with the majority, but had changed my mind after a lot of soul searching and thought. My entire family was gone. There might be some very extended cousins out there somewhere, but nobody I knew or personally cared for. What changed my mind was the very fact that I was the last. I knew they would want me to go on no matter how much my very blood boiled in anger.
Honestly, I can't say my plan was any less nuts than suicide, but I think it was outside of the box. The very reason I'd been selected, besides having the necessary skills to do the job and being able fit in the cramped cockpit, was because I wasn't Chinese.
Well, really I was, sorta, but after spending generations in the US and a couple of intermarriages, I looked ambiguous at best. I appeared just as Hispanic as I did Asian and honestly my facial features just didn't pass. Just as telling was, while I understood Chinese fairly well, I was a very long ways from being fluent. All I would have to do was open my mouth and the jig would be up.
However, Chinese-Americans were under a great deal of suspicion given the War. Just like with Japanese-Americans during WWII we weren't trusted. The only reason even I with my remote Chinese heritage had been considered was just because of Hawaii. There wasn't a single soul in China that could be held hostage against me or anywhere else for that matter. They were all gone.
Looking down, I checked my course again. Everything was good, but I was losing a little altitude. Checking the pressure of my compressed-air fuel, I dared run the impeller for 20 minutes to gain what height I'd lost and a little more besides. The barely audible slow thump of the Sterling engine as it refilled the reservoir was reassuring. I should have full tanks of air by the time I hit the target area.
The fact I was still alive said I had been undetected. The Chinese had proved once again that he who held the high ground had a decisive advantage. That just meant you had to be really, really sneaky.
Looking literally though my Shadow Flyer wing, I grinned behind my air mask. The entire thing was a specially developed areogel like material, but it also was much stronger and more flexible than the usual brittle Styrofoam like gels.
Most aerogels were a transparent smoky blue, but this one was actually clearer than any glass. Closeup your eyes had to take time to figure just what they were looking at. At a distance, say 10 miles up, it was about as invisible as they came. Wonder Woman's Invisible Jet, it wasn't, but besides the carefully camouflaged cockpit assembly the whole thing was like a giant see-though model.
Honestly, I knew only generalities about it all just in case I was captured. No one expected our enemies to abide by Prisoner Of War conventions. There was a reason why so many of my fellow Shadow Flyer pilots opted for the stay-on-target 'glory' route.
However, back to my point, I'd performed the most dangerous part of the flight, running the motor, and I was still alive. Sure it was non-metallic and radar transparent as well as producing no heat except for air friction, but you couldn't be too careful.
The whole B-2 Stealth fleet had been decimated by the Chinese orbital defenses and intercepting fighters. Stealthy yes, but the new Chinese advances had enabled them to be found anyways. It was that high-ground thing again with their space stations and satellites being devilishly effective.
But no, wait! There aren't any weapons involved with our space program and our power-sats are strictly for civilian purposes. Like right. The real problem had always been targeting and once they beat that, it was easy to use them as weapons. Power-sats don't need to actively maneuver at a moments notice, but weapons do in order to be aimed.
Carefully surveying my data and maps, I was finally approaching Fusang One, the ground station and receiving dish for the Tiangong 5, their primary space station and power-sat relay. That was the other thing that got me into the Program. If I might say so myself, I was a very good old fashioned traditional navigator. Sure I have computer generated maps, charts and graphics to help me on my way but there wasn't any GPS anymore. Zap, the Hou-Yi satellites took them right out. So it was just me and that was it.
Since they used microwaves to beam the power down, there wasn't a glowing beam or anything like to mark the spot. There was the big receiving rectenna farm visible even as far away as I was.
It was time.
Going over the checklist strapped to my thigh, I went down the list. Maps and charts were secured in their special compartment ensuring their destruction and preventing the enemy from backtracking my flight. Visual scan of the cockpit to check for foreign objects which might interfere with my ejection. A double check of my survival kit to make damn sure it was secure and in place.
Lastly I took my voder off. I really hadn't needed it for this flight, but it was there just in case. My handlers had insisted upon it after they heard my insane plan. It went into the same box as the maps to make certain it was destroyed.
I pushed the stick over.
It felt damn weird after stately gliding along for so long. Flying so high the sensation of speed was negligible. Suddenly it felt like I was zipping madly forward, but I knew that was most definitely an illusion. At the most, a Shadow Flyer could make perhaps 300 mph and that was on a really good day in the steepest dive. Speed wasn't what they were designed for.
The altimeter was winding down fast and still no reactions from space, air or ground. That was a good thing all considered. You see, a Shadow Flyer had another very special property. The aerogel of which it was constructed was also a highly condensed super-powerful explosive. It was like piloting an aircraft made out of nitrocellulose or plastic explosives. It takes a very specific set of circumstances to trigger it, so it was mostly safe until needed … mostly.
Hey, I admit the entire Project was insane, but as others have learned you put the US's back to the wall and we can get ... creative. Hell, I'll freely admit I haven't a clue as to who fired the first shot in this mess. You get a lot of people and hardware in each others' faces and something is going to happen. However, the People's Republic was definitely the primary pusher in their drive to occupy Taiwan. They clearly started this.
They were also the ones to put the 7th Fleet at the bottom of the Philippine Sea for their declaration of war. Hawaii, I'm not going to talk about.
Markings on my canopy helped me calculate the correct glide path as I swooped down on my target. After hours of doing nothing, here were the moments of stark terror my veteran combat instructors at the Air Force Academy had promised me.
How strange that I felt so calm.
Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, I saw instead my family; Grandfather Feng, one of most gentle people I've ever known; Grandmother Hui always with a gentle smile and out with her flowers; Little Sister Kelly, the Goth who often forgot she was supposed to be dark and brooding; Father and his mischievous eyes always with some secret behind them; and my Mother who had resisted my application to the Academy, but who'd supported me anyways.
Somehow I knew they didn't want me to die, and were with me to help me live.
The rectenna filled the windscreen. I waited until the inscribed target square on the canopy was filled and waited a very long One Mississippi. Shadow Flyers being mostly gliders were very stable flight platforms and the rectenna was very big.
Time to leave.
One handle locked the stick and rudder in place while the last used the compressed air that ran the impeller to blow the canopy and blast my ejection seat out into the early cold winter's morning.
It reminded me of being body slammed by Max, my arch wrestling nemesis back in high school in Hilo. However the whirling, twisting jerk as my chute opened was unique to itself. Knowing I should turn my head away, instead I had to look.
Fusang One had what we hoped was a design flaw. Rather then being flat the Rectenna receiving site was dish shaped to protect the surrounding area from any possible dangers from the microwaves being beamed down. Tiangong 5 was directly over it in a geostationary orbit. Additionally, there was the nearby vast transformer farm from hell. If you could deliver a big enough boom you could channel it all straight back up … in theory.
The unbelievably concentrated explosive power of my Shadow Flyer entered the beam. It was equivalent to tens of tons of normal TNT. The shock wave threw my chute away like a tissue in a tornado.
Waking in a dangerously leaning tree, icy fluid ran though my veins. How much time had passed? Crap!
I knew how I would be treated if found, and who knew how much time I'd wasted being unconscious. Silly thought I know, but that is how I felt. A quick function check told me I was mostly unhurt. Battered as hell, but everything worked.
Using my panic, I managed to yank down the remains of my chute and bury it. Next came my flight suit and helmet. In the freezing morning air, I dressed in the clothing I'd brought with me. My special accessories went inside my jacket. It was time to run!
Getting some distance was a good thing and besides with the rectenna being hidden in a valley I couldn't see just how much payback I'd manged to dish out. The sun was rising too which meant Tiangong 5 was hidden from sight too.
No, it was time to worry about getting Tommy's ass out of China. In no time at all I was dirty from falling and, along with my bruises, I hoped I would fit the part I needed to play.
One thing was for sure, it'd been one hell of a blast. I'd traveled miles and still I was passing half uprooted trees. Despite the survival and evasion training all of us Shadow Fliers had undergone, I was feeling the stress of flying a very long mission, ejecting, and being knocked unconscious.
My handlers had been surprised at my plan, but had helped me refine it. As one had said it was drastic, but so was Doolittle's Raid and some of the other wild things war had forced people to do.
I was near a town, and that meant people. It was time. Slipping out my special package, I unwrapped the mask. I'd shaved my head in preparation for this, but I still needed the cream I'd been given to slide it on. Warmed by my body heat it wasn't too bad an ordeal smearing it all over my head.
We all knew our handlers had to be CIA, but even I was surprised when mine arrived with this mask after telling them my plan. Perhaps I shouldn't have been given that movie Argo, but it did settle one worry. Others who tried using masks in the past to commit crimes or other mischief had been caught because the makers recognized their work and kept records of their sales. This one was a one of a kind made just for me so no such worries.
Seating the mask, I took a deep breath. Staying in character meant life or death now. Hobbling over to the road, I stumped slowly into the town that clearly showed it'd been damaged by my attack on Fusang One.
I truly hoped no one here had been hurt. They weren't to blame for their government and military's policies. On the other hand, my grief and anger still burned strong so I didn't regret my actions one damn bit. Maybe some day I would, but it wouldn't be soon.
People were busy dealing with the broken glass from the shock wave and other minor damage. All were much too engaged in their own problems to worry about me. Additionally, I looked just like them. Dirty and disheveled from the unpleasant wake-up call, they weren't at their best.
I'd gotten maybe halfway though town before I was stopped the very first time. The good news was I didn't have to fake just how bone deep weary I felt.
The Chinese military SUV looked a lot like a Jeep Cherokee to my American eyes, but the guys in the green Peoples Armed Police uniforms were anything but. Carrying bull-pup QBZ-95 assault rifles they were stirred up and ready for bear.
The leader, a Shao Xiao, equivalent to a major, demanded my identification.
Looking miserable, I copied the gesture I'd been taught by my handlers. Think of patting your pockets to show you didn’t have them on you.
Of course he got in my face, so I flinched back and didn't answer.
Two of the Special policemen got off the truck to grab me.
That's when I opened my mouth to show the stump of my tongue and toothless mouth.
Astonished, they backed off and after a moment the officer commanded them to let me go.
“I apologize Grandmother. Be on your way.” He said, in Chinese of course.
I don't suppose he thought that an American Pilot would go to such lengths to avoid capture. He didn't know me very well did he, to paraphrase a certain cartoon character from my youth. To be sure, my handlers had grudgingly admitted it might work.
True, I had fake ID cards, but I didn't want anyone to look too closely at them. Anyone running one though the system would know immediately. My best defense was appearing as the last possible person anyone would think of as an American Air Force pilot.
If I made it home, new regeneration technology could rebuild my tongue and even implant teeth. It made it better that it was going to be on Uncle Sugar's dime. That's if I made it. Trust me! I knew just how big an if that was. No bookie would dare take on those odds.
Slowly continuing on my way, I headed into the rising sun. It was going to be a very long walk home.
I'd twisted the nose of Red China's mighty Dragon. The question now was I going to get away with it?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Chapter Two
I'd twisted the nose of Red China's mighty Dragon. The question now was I going to get away with it? If I'd known of the Major's eyes upon me as I left I would've been a lot more apprehensive, but there was really nothing I could do. I'd put all of my marbles into one bag, win or lose. Imitating Grandmother Hui, I was apparently a better actor then I'd ever credited myself. What can I say? It worked and I did have plenty of motivation.
As the days and then weeks passed, I begged for food or forged as best I could. I put the special policeman from my mind. Most days I didn't go hungry, with people willing to share a little with an old woman. I'd even been gifted with a cane at one point which helped me thump along on my long journey.
I did have currency, but I used it very thrifty. Sure I might be calling some attention to myself, but at the same time I was defying expectations. An American stoop to begging?
It didn't take long for one day to pretty much seem like another. What did change was I began to heal not only from my rotten landing, but from losing my family, friends and home. It was still a gaping wound, but it was starting to scab over. The simple, hard life of having to walk hundreds of miles while pretending to be a senior citizen of the opposite gender in a culture largely alien to mine, gave me lots of time to think.
My anger slowly withdrew like the tide. Really I had no ill feelings about the Chinese. Hell, I was a quarter Chinese although I knew that disappointed my Grandparents. On the other hand that never stopped them from loving me and my sister Kelly.
The very fact I could think about them at all without trembling in anger or breaking down in tears spoke volumes. The saying that Time heals all had it right after all. The season passed and I was miles closer to the sea and freedom.
The way home was a complex mess requiring me to go every which way before I got to Hong Kong, but finally after so long, there it was in the distance. My time was running out. Although I'd taken as good care of my mask and gloves that I could, I could tell they were on their last legs. I'd taken to covering my masked face as much as I could, but that tactic wouldn't work for much longer.
Begging had netted me a few coins, enough for the ferry to the island. Soon I told myself. This would all be over. Modern medicine could replace my tongue and teeth, and I could dare let myself be me again.
Were the lengths I'd gone to worth it? That answer would have to be yes. The pity and dismissal when they saw my tongue and toothless mouth let me slide though more checkpoints and close calls than I could count. At the worst, I was let go with only a cursory inspection of my fake ID card.
Once on board the ferry, the smell of the sea breeze was refreshing even if I couldn't feel it upon my face. The end was near was all I could think of.
I was left alone, a ragged old woman, which suited me just fine.
Then my blood froze. There on the dock, waiting for the ferry, was the same Major who'd stopped me that very first time. What were the odds that this was an coincidence? Hunching my shoulders, I had no choice, but to play the hand I had. If a close search took place I was doomed. My mask concealed only my face. My body and gender depended on my clothing and no one looking closer.
There was the hustle of everyone preparing to off load, but I took my time. There was a plan for me to dodge Immigration, but the Major was going to complicate things.
I never had the chance. As soon as I neared the ramp, a pair of Special Police appeared on either side of me. The Major walked up and touched my masked face. The not nice smile said it all.
As they dragged me away, I got one last look at Hong Kong and just how close I'd come. Then it was lost as I forced into the green military SUV.
I won't say much about what happened next. They threw a hood over my face and cuffed me as well. I know at one point I was on a plane and changed vehicles a time or two, but when the hood was removed was when it really got unpleasant.
I was stripped of mask, clothes and dignity. Like a scene out of 'First Blood” I was cruelly hosed down and then had a very rough physical medical examination. Through it all, that Major was there watching.
It was almost an relief when I was tossed into a cell. Food was provided even if it wasn't very good, but I'd learned a lesson on my long walk. When you're really hungry anything tastes good.
The hard pad even felt good after sleeping wherever I could for so long. However the next morning wasn't nice at all. The guards roughly dragged me out and strapped me to a gurney. A nurse shaved my head of the hair that'd grown during my walk. When I felt markers being used on my head I began to panic.
Medicine had come a long way and the things that could be abused scared me witless. Not that there was anything I could do. It seemed my revenge on Tiangong 5 was going to be lot more expensive then I'd thought.
A needle was jabbed into my arm, and I felt the light fading. As I'd done so many times since that terrible day in June, I thought of my family. Hold on, dear ones I'm coming...
Chapter 3
My awakening was like a desperate swim upwards to find the light after being alone in the dark for far too long. Thoughts and awareness were numb as from a terrible Winter of freezing cold.
Broaching that long night into day with the opening of my eyes brought only confusion. However there were two things that did not require my eyes. I had a tongue again. After being without for months it felt strange, but there were teeth too. Exploring my month with the restored appendage, they all seemed different from what I remembered.
What I saw appeared to be a relatively normal bedroom although with institutional furnishings like from a hotel or hospital. That bought back a flood of memories of being captured and being prepared for some sort of unpleasant surgery.
Trying to lift a hand, I quickly realized I was restrained to the bed. I couldn't even move my head. Even my fingers seemed unresponsive which was a really bad thing. Only my eyes and mouth appeared to be under my control.
Forcing myself not to panic was very difficult. Being prepared for brain surgery and waking paralyzed is beyond terrifying. That didn't explain why my teeth had been regenerated. My tongue made sense to replace so I could talk, but even that wasn't a necessity with electronic voders being more or less able to make me understandable.
I got a few answers when I decided I had nothing to lose by asking.
“Hello?” I asked aloud, but that was not what I heard.
“Ni hao?” And it was in the correct tonal range which had always given me trouble. Unlike some, I was aware of the difference, but I couldn't make my mouth corporate with my brains. The joys of almost being in a bi-lingual household. I contribute Grandma Hui and her babysitting with what little skill I had in Chinese at all.
However I had other problems. That 'hello' had been at a lot higher pitch than my normal tenor my Hawaiian father had passed on to me. In fact it sounded so high it was like a soprano.
Soprano?
This was not good.
Pretending to be an old woman was one thing. Honestly, I was treated as being sexless, but with respect in most cases. Not being able to speak, cut out a lot of complications too. However if I'd only been surgically altered, I shouldn't have spoken without thinking in Chinese.
Okay how bad was it?
A half hour later I knew. Rumors had floated around that China had developed rather advanced medical techniques since they had more relaxed rules about stem cell and other similar research than the West. However, besides speaking in that high soprano, I spoke perfect Chinese now and I do mean perfect. Think of an absolutely perfect language lesson recording. That's how I sounded which could only mean one thing.
I'd been puppeted.
Using always expanding nano-technology medical science, the technique was supposed to help regrow and bypass damaged neurological connections caused by disease and accidents. The problem was while it did work well on certain conditions, it was sorely lacking in others. An example of that was when it was used in an attempt at behavior modification for the criminally insane. The idea was to bypass the sectors of their gray matter that were causing the antisocial behavior and problems.
In a manner of speaking it worked, but more along the same way of lobotomies. Sometimes the procedure was effective, and the person got a new lease on life. At other times not so much, and it was damn hard to tell which patients it would help and ones it wouldn't. Even the failures ended up being more or less functional, but there was a good reason why those 'patients' were called puppets.
Like with me, whatever computer they'd put in my head was programmed with perfect Mandarin Chinese, so that was what I was speaking, like it or not. That was because the current generation implanted micro computer that made up the loss of the bypassed areas came close to doing the job, but not completely. You ended up with 'pod' people or 'Stepfords' who came across as if they were over-acting in a B-movie.
If I concentrated I could speak English, but it came out so heavily accented I winced. It also made me fear just what else was programmed into that damn thing they placed in my noggin. This was exactly the kind of abuse of the technology that everyone feared, not that it would do me any good to complain about it. Someone, it appeared, had taken offense at my attempt to walk out of China disguised as woman, even an old one.
I got some answers when a nurse entered, along with the Special Police Major who'd finally run me down. Never meeting my eyes, she put down the tray she carried and deferentially left.
“You may move freely. Please eat and refresh yourself ” He said, of course all in Chinese.
I didn't know if whether to be relieved or even more panicked when I successfully lifted a hand. As an active young man the thought I could be bought so low so easily wasn't good. The extremely slim hand I saw didn't help either. Perhaps it was more worrying when I didn't get up and run away screaming. I didn't like what I saw, but I couldn't feel fear, or hate to change that like into something else. Forget anti-depressants because I knew that damn microcomputer was controlling my mental state. It couldn't change what I thought, but it could alter how strongly I felt about it.
However, this had me feeling way out of balance, but that tray had water and food. Sitting up was an experience too, not because I was weak but because of the sensations. Unluckily for me I'd been right about my guesses about my changed voice and hands, as a pair of sensitive lumps shifted about on my chest.
Once again the panic, fear, and shock I knew I should be feeling just weren't there. Sighing, it was more of that damn programming which I couldn't do anything about. It was sad when I was more concerned about being hungry and thirsty than suddenly finding I'd grown breasts.
Carefully grasping the glass with both hands, I took my first swallow. The cool water tasted so good, I had to wonder if my senses were being affected as well as my feelings. Even though I was being careful given my concerns about my strength, I found myself eating and drinking almost delicately despite wanting to wolf it down.
Remember I'd lived for months by begging and what foraging I could get away with. Having even this much food was a godsend. Not reacting as I felt I should have left me feeling 'unbalanced' and out of sorts again.
Still it did give me a chance to study the man responsible for my downfall. First, he'd been promoted to Zhong Xiao, Lt. Colonel. Next I found I could easily read his name tag now, instead of having to puzzle it out, Wang. That was about the same as Smith in American as far as common surnames went. While it was very handy to have my literacy in Chinese improved, having my very mind being hacked wasn't remotely worth it. Sure, this stuff in my head could do that “Hey, I know Kung Fu!” thing, I rather doubt that would be one of the skills I would be given. Considering what I suspected I looked like, thinking about what these jokers would force me to learn wasn't a comforting line of thought.
Finishing off the last of the food, I wondered at what came next.
Col. Wang had stood silently watching me eat. At times I could see him subtly react to those times that damn computer modified my natural inclinations. If it looked the same as footage I'd seen of other 'puppets' it appeared very posed and false. I suppose in some cultures that might be acceptable and even look graceful. However, at first glance, it seemed the Colonel agreed with me that it was distasteful.
“Under normal circumstances, despite your 'procedure' I would be conducting this interview under more strict surroundings.” He began, obviously still uncomfortable. “But this situation has become complicated.”
My imagination could just see exactly what his version of strict surroundings consisted of, however the very idea that this mess could become more complicated was more of that bad thing.
“I take it you have worked out the results of your surgery?” He asked almost sounding concerned.
“I've been puppeted.” I replied, as that cursed computer forced me to meekly reply in Chinese.
“Yes,” He nodded, satisfied I'd worked it out. “The reason is because you're the only American Terrorist involved in the attacks we've been able to identify. The 'procedure' compels you to tell the truth, and that is why I recommended it to be applied to you. We need to determine exactly the equipment and methods that were used in order to prevent another attempt.”
“Drugs and other tools of questioning have their limitations. This process will give us as close to the unambiguous truth as is possible.” The Special Policeman sighed. “However, this is where the complications arise. I was sent to school in the United States to learn your country's latest criminology and forensic methods. Excelling in my studies and graduating high in my class, I returned home to discover that I'm not entirely trusted because I went to school in the West.
“I have Master degrees in Criminology and Forensics, but I was assigned as security to the Fusang One Ground Station. The only reason I was promoted was because I've succeeded where others have failed. I caught one of those responsible for the attacks on my country.
“This put my superiors in an untenable position.” He sighed, as I wondered where he was going with all of this. “They don't trust me, but your capture was far too important to simply ignore my accomplishment. Using one arrow to down two vultures, they decided to solve all of their problems.
“As with the West, 'puppets' are considered unable to manage their own affairs given the innate vulnerabilities of being programmable. In this instance you're a ward of the State, and please recall arranged marriages are still common here. This way they have a spy within my household that they can question at will, and with this transformation you will have disappeared without a trace.”
Even without that damn computer they put in my brain, I was speechless. Yes, I could read between the lines. Married to a man, me? More, married to this man who stole my chance for freedom from right before my eyes? We won't even mention the rest of being made to disappear or the usual POW abuse thing. I understood enough to know that while finding out a secret was good, it was even more important that the other side doesn't know you know. Maybe my emotions were being manipulated but that did not mean I was a robot.
This was totally against my very reality.
Col. Wang went on with his explanation of the 'complications' as if I hadn't frozen as stiff as a block of ice.
“Since we will have a relationship after this is over whether we want it or not, I'm going to attempt to make this as painless for both of us that I may and still do my duty. Understand, you won't be able resist the questioning, but that won't mean you've failed in your obligations. You must accept that your War is over.”
“Are you ready to begin?” He asked, setting a digital recorder by my tray on the nightstand.
I nodded my assent. What choice did I truly have?
“What is your given English name?” The Colonel began.
“2nd Lt. Thomas Ohana, US Air Force.” I answered, giving my use name. My true Hawaiian name had power which his phasing had allowed me to avoid giving to him.
“Ohana?” He asked.
“It's Hawaiian.” I answered, watching his reaction.
However, he only sighed. “You have my earnest condolences. That should never have happened, however, as a lowly major, I was not consulted. Regardless, we both have to live with the consequences. Now we must move on to more difficult questions.”
I would like to say I found a way of avoiding answering, but no. The best I could do was concentrate on not volunteering anything. It was like the damn computer in my head wouldn't let me shut up. More than anything else it reminded me of the first time I got drunk and I turned into a motormouth which is one of the reasons, if I drink at all it's in moderation.
The only thing that made this bearable at all was this had been anticipated by the mission planners. Truly, we Shadow pilots didn't know much besides what we had to in order to convince us to sign up for the virtual suicide mission and to fly the mission.
Before he clicked off his recorder, my fiance, please tell me that isn't really happening, said, “I also have to ask your forgiveness. Not knowing why, I was asked what I found physically desirable in my perfect woman. Normally such things would be harmless, it wasn't until they revealed our betrothal that I learned differently.”
He turned and left.
Although he had that whole Asian inscrutable thing going, I'd learned from my
Grandparents how to see past it. In this case I was pretty sure he wasn't any happier with this than I was. The difference was I was a lot more unhappy about it.
I didn't have time to brood about it even if the things in my head would let me. No more had the door shut than that nurse and a doctor came in for part two of my ordeal today. Can you spell physical therapy?
I suppose I must've been a golden child growing up since I avoided any major illnesses or injuries, opting for just the usual childhood stuff; chicken pox, bumps, and scrapes. By lunch I was sore, humiliated, and embarrassed beyond all possible belief. Nurse Chan was a stern taskmaster, and it would've been nice to have a doctor with a better bedside manner than Dr. Wu.
A quick examination confirmed the computer was permitting me to have a full range of motion, and then he gave a very short explanation of which I understood only part. I did get the important facts. This body was completely female because of the X chromosome that took over after they did something horrible to the Y I'd gotten from my Dad. The interloper came from them somehow copying Chinese DNA from my one X. Just how they picked out or decided what was Chinese and what wasn't was completely beyond me.
I was helped into this shapeless shift where I realized why Col. Wang was apologizing. My body was just this side of being anorexic thin. With that in mind, I knew these breasts only looked huge on that slim frame. Really they were only moderately sized, but the real problem was that they were on me. Then there was my complexion. I'm Hawaiian remember. Being nicely tanned was healthy. This extremely fair skin I had now was nearly as distasteful as those lumps. The only saving grace was it was flawless and smooth which sent goose bumps over me it was so sensuous.
Standing and then walking were trials. What little muscle I still had wanted to move one way, the implant demanded I move another. Plus, with my desecrated body's new center of balance and proportions I was caught in the middle hoping and wishing for the former.
At first I was surprised I hadn't lost any of my height. At five feet eight, 173cm, I was on the short side among my fellow Air Force cadets. I never let it bother me since it simply made aircraft cockpits all that more roomy for me while my larger, taller, classmates had squeeze themselves inside.
For a Chinese woman that's taller than the average male height. I'd faked it during my walk by nearly crippling myself by staying hunched over. By the time I'd reached Hong Kong I'd actually needed that damn cane.
I quickly learned about that proportion thing. Whatever they had done had widened my hips, but it seemed I had more leg now. Believe me when I say that. I felt like a crane with those long bird legs.
Col. Wang had spent time in America and knew our view on beauty differed greatly from the Chinese ideal. That was what he was apologizing for when he said he was Chinese. I'd heard some of my cousins from that side of the family complain how the exchange students from China would call girls fat who weren't even close, or how the girls would shun any sunlight for fear of darkening.
If I'd been allowed, any part of this would've had me comatose, but instead I stumbled though it as best as I could. That computer had its own ideas (about) how I was supposed to walk. Rather than take anything reassembling a normal stride, there was this short fashion model like step.
This is where that lack of bedside manner struck me.
“This is the computer learning how to walk. If you don't cooperate I will remove your conscious control so we can meet our schedule.” The so-called doctor addressed me coldly.
If I could've slugged the SOB I would have, but the freaking computer wouldn't let me do that either. Making one of those submissive gestures of assent that I was becoming really to dislike, I got though the experience. I moved liked some bad CGI animated figure, but I was under my own power.
My legs and those small feet of mine were aching, which answered clearly any thought of escape. I'd only been at this for a couple of hours and was in this much discomfort. The Procedure had stolen all possibility of me making a run for it. I was truly stuck. No, if I was going to get out of here it wouldn't be on foot.
Lunch wasn't very large, but it still filled me up which pointed out how small my stomach was now. I knew I was avoiding another issue too. The reason why I'd busted my butt to get that appointment to Colorado Springs was because I loved to fly. I'd caught the flying bug watching the para-sailors from my family's boat. Trying it myself, I'd advanced to hang-gilders in short order.
Reaching the academy was a dream come true and I'd taken to gliders and other aircraft like a fish to water. Along with sailing before I could walk, and navigating soon afterward, I joined the Cadet Aviation Club and was on track to become a Cadet instructor. That was before the War and losing my home. Now it seemed I'd lost my life long dream as well.
After lunch it was more of the Chinese version of physical therapy. Torture was more like it. Strange as it may seem I didn't get a good look at the new me until break time when they decided that although I was resting, I could still learn.
That plan went out the window the moment I saw that feminine face in the mirror. Despite the somewhat larger eyes and more pronounced nose as well as some other subtle changes, I knew this woman.
I'd seen her every time I went to my Grandparents house. Her smiling face was right beside a much young Grandfather Feng dressed in his finest for his wedding. I looked just like Grandmother Hui, or at the very minimum a very close relative. That's when it hit me that the DNA they'd extracted somehow had to be hers.
Computer in my head controlling my hormones and endocrines or not, I dissolved into tears.
I will say that although my trainers reaction wasn't kind at first, once I managed to communicate why I was distressed they backed off even if they weren't very supportive.
On the other hand at the end of my break, I was informed I would continue the therapy or else. I knew they were threatening to take me offline, leaving me as only a passenger in my own body.
It was only a guess that some kind of allowance for 'grieving' was part of the programming, but I couldn't help but notice my emotions calmed down very quickly. By the end of the day I was exhausted in all meanings and ways of the word. I couldn't call it the worst day of my life. That was reserved for June First while I watched in horror as my beloved home destroyed itself. However, this day was a firm second place.
Caught and trapped in a situation that offers no means of escape, 2nd Lt. Tommy Ohana's ordeal is just beginning.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
That first hellish day set the tone for the ones that followed. Col. Wang would appear with breakfast and ask for clarification of previous answers or ask new ones. Then physical therapy until lunch with 'girl' training in the afternoon.
Forget the noise I made about 'I know Kung Fu.' It was disconcerting as hell to have my hands do things like makeup and hair styling which I knew for certain I knew absolutely nothing about. I did learn I could soften that whole 'Stepford' fake thing so I appeared more natural, but I had to really work at doing whatever it was myself instead of letting the computer run me by remote.
That was a double edged sword since it was a kind of surrender to this girl thing. There was also the theft of my Hawaiian heritage right out of my very DNA which still bothered and hurt me. There were so damn few of us islanders still alive that losing that part of myself was near a physical pain. The strange thing was that, while it had shocked me to see Grandmother Hui's face at first, it was also comforting in a way that a very visible reminder that my blood and heritage from my ancestors were still a part of me. Yeah I know its a kind of superstition like thing, but it was the culture I grew up in. Families were important. To have some of that removed was like a rape, perhaps worse if that was possible.
It wasn't until I had this dream that I was really able to get a handle on any of it. Before I'd been reacting when poked, I think because of the sheer vulnerable position I was in, as well as the continuing numbness like sensation when I didn't react or feel as strongly about things that should have me doing a serious freak out. My world was really seriously out of kilter!
The dream began with me sitting in front of that mirror with all that makeup stuff arrayed in front of me. Then a pair of hands warmly grasped my shoulders. A face appears behind me and it's Grandmother Hui, all young and pretty. Our eyes meet in the reflection and she breaks out in the biggest smile and hugs me from behind.
I start to turn around, but a sad shake of her head warns me not to. There was so much for us to tell each other, but it seemed we couldn't speak. Somehow she knew what had happened to me, and just as strangely I was certain she was here to let me know not only she, but all of my family were with me.
Waking with happy tears in my eyes, I had a few moments of wondering if Dr. Wu, the mad Chinese Frankenstein, had found a way to invade my dreams. No question my behavior was being modified, but how much of my very moving dream was the power of my faith in my heritage and family?
I decided that the last thing my puppeteers wanted was for me to develop a strategy for dealing with this situation. My dream I would take as it seemed. It was a gift to say no matter my appearance I was accepted, and the spirits of those I loved were with me.
It was a couple days after that I was allowed into the general population. Okay I was exaggerating again. This wasn't a prison, but it was a facility for politically sensitive patients. That meant in the most encompassing sense and not just a politically correct term for dissidents.
Not only those like me who were prisoners in all but name, but those high within the Communist Party of China. Wherever this facility was located, logic dictated it represented the pinnacle of its medical achievement. That was comforting since that said the unbelievable things done to me were not commonly available.
Logic also told me that my little flight a few months ago had earned a little payback for the million plus Hawaiians who would never wake from their sleep. I knew that at the very least Tiangong 5 was history. During my long walk I'd ample opportunity to sky-watch and that symbol of Chinese superiority was nowhere to be seen. However, even as large as the other power-sats were I wasn't as familiar with their orbits. At my best guess my fellow Shadow Fliers had gotten two which explained my treatment.
Five spaceborne weapons let them cover the world pretty damn good, and still let them beam down power to their energy starved nation. With only two, suddenly their resources were stretched thin and that gave the US of A windows of opportunity. In short, with five they could keep anyone else from launching anything into orbit, but two left holes. That also meant that the pesky beams that were so good at knocking out ICBM's and Stealth Bombers weren't protecting the Chairman's ass anymore.
You want to use the US for target practice for your weapons of mass destruction? Well, right back at you!
Okay, I didn't really feel that way, at least anymore. Like I said before, I was healing and I never did have anything against the people here. Nukes tend to very indiscriminate about who they blow up. No, I wanted the SOB's who picked up the phone and told Tiangong 5 to push the button.
However, at least I got a chance to see something else besides four walls. I'll admit the courtyard garden wasn't all that great next to my memories of my home, but it was an improvement. The domed over arboretum had that cutting edge architectural thing going that was a current Chinese fad. It also prevented anyone inside from knowing just what the outside was like.
Additionally don't think for a moment that being allowed more freedom let me mingle. There were well defined class sections where I and others like me were allowed to wander, but we were kept from our betters. It reminded me of James Cameron's 'Titanic' and the division between the first, second and third class passengers.
As much as I enjoyed the release there were a few things that weren't nice. The first was the frank stares I got from all the men. As unnerving as that was the outright hostile envious glares from the women were worse. While I understood that I was the very image of a Chinese Barbie Doll, I personally thought I resembled Jack Skellington's sister. You know white, bone thin, and all leg.
The next, and possibly even more disturbing, revelation was the very public announcement that the mighty People Republic of China had declared victory over the Kuomintang separatists and that the Twenty-third Provence, Taiwan was once more part of China.
Perhaps I was getting paranoid, but I had to wonder at my being allowed a bit more freedom at nearly the same time of this proclamation. However, while I may have been out of touch with the rest of the world, I'd observed that, despite noises of individual treaties, Japan, and South Korea had not actually signed anything.
If anything, more countries if not actively joining the US in the War, were taking much stronger stances. Even Russia and the other countries who had big investments in the International Space Station hadn't been appreciative of its destruction nor of being forced to abandon it at gunpoint so to speak. For that matter, watching that investment turn into an over-sized firework didn't make the PRC any friends.
Hell, even before I left, the most ardent US haters, ie the Middle East, had changed their tune. They'd almost had orgies in the streets after the aircraft carrier USS George Washington had gone down. That changed damn quick when the Chinese told the oil producers that the PRC would be paying a set price for crude oil from now on, or did the Sheiks enjoy the smell of miles of burning oil wells lit from orbit?
Taking a breath of the fresher air, I put those things out of my mind. It might be true that my war was over, but I knew for damn sure which side I was rooting for. My stride was still annoying, but I was still working on making it my walk. I had the idea that if I could get the computer to relax its control I could modify my steps if only in little ways. At any rate, it would make me look less robotic.
It also wasn't helpful that the fairly comfortable slippers I'd been allowed at first had been replaced with more fashionable heels that most definitely weren't. Still I was determined to beat this no matter how many men leered at me.
While studiously ignoring them, I noticed in one of the more privileged areas a very sad young girl, perhaps six or seven who's father appeared more interested in brow beating her than in giving love.
A bit of intelligence gathering told me she had a playground accident that would've paralyzed her for life. However, the same technology that'd been abused in my case would let her walk and even run again. I couldn't think of a more perfect example of the technology's two edged sword, good for her, bad for me.
Her father was seven kinds of a fool not thanking the very heavens for the gift he'd been given and the tragedy that'd been averted. It was only because he was high in the Party's leadership that his little girl was going to get a chance to be a woman strong and able to walk on her own. Oh how we throw the most priceless gifts away.
However, watching that small child sit there in that wheel chair all alone after her parents left her made my heart ache. Okay I admit those damn female hormones and computer master-minding it all had me busting out crying at the silliest things sometimes, but this was different. She reminded me so much of my younger cousins that never got a chance to grow up, that I couldn't help, but feel for her.
The truth was I was a child of the wind and sea, so how could I help since I wasn't even allowed to speak to someone of such high rank. Then my eyes caught on the swaying of a branch in the dome's ventilation system.
A polite request of a few sheets of paper and a pencil raised a few brows, but I wasn't refused. Then came the hard part. Doing this from here had its advantages and problems. Having the height was good, but there were cross breezes all over the place. The major hallways had significant drafts as well as the vents produce air currents. The thermals from the large glass dome couldn't be ignored either.
It was too far for the basic design, but I recalled one that had more wing area and was really forgiving if you didn't get your folds exactly right. A mistake could have my message drifting port or starboard. Finished, I used the pencil to give my craft its insignia.
Checking the conditions again, I let fly with my first attempt, paying close attention to its flight path. As expected, something went wrong and it got caught in a draft driving it too far to port where it went down due to one of the hallway drafts. Flight two, did better but needed a bit of pool-hall English to get it on target. A bit of careful bending of the control surfaces had me ready for flight number three. With my fingers crossed, I launched taking great care to repeat my motions exactly the same as the first two for consistency.
Wanting to grin, I instead still had a smile as my construction fluttered gracefully as if it had active terminal guidance right into that little girl's lap.
Startled, her eyes grew wide staring at the pair of smiley faces I'd drawn on the wings. Before she could look around to see where it could've come from I stepped back out of sight. It was better for her to wonder where who sent it. A bit of mystery and magic was good for the soul.
The staff of course saw all of this but neither them nor that damn thing in my head interfered. It was good for me too, since it distracted my from my troubles. Certainly my taskmasters made up any perceived wrong I'd done by drilling me endlessly in feminine deportment. Sitting down and smoothing my skirt and then standing again over and and over again got old, but as always they held that threat of taking away my conscious control. Just so I knew it wasn't a powerless threat, Dr. Wu once again proved he had all the compassion of a rock. He walked my body around the room and had me making all kinds of what the Chinese thought of as feminine gestures such as hiding my face behind my hands as I giggled and others I'm not going to talk about.
I began making a habit of dive bombing my young victim with smiles. She appeared to be more aware and happier now as she tried to spot me and I was happy to stay a mystery. After a while I found myself plumbing the depths of my knowledge of paper airplane making.
No surprise I wasn't allowed anywhere near a computer or tablet which would've helped my paper airplane designs, even though China had just about severed all outside internet connections with their draconian censoring. Be that as it may, nobody stopped me or complained about my paper airplanes which I think was a good thing for both of us.
Then I got a bump in the routine. Col. Wang's 'visit' was changed to him escorting me to a conference room.
“These are aviation experts who will question you about the specifics of your 'Shadow Flyer.'” He told me.
Hoping to head my 'motormouth' off at the pass, I politely stated, “I don't know how I'll be able to add to what I've told Col. Wang.”
The stony faces that greeted me didn't bode well. The first couple of questions answered one of my own. This wasn't a panel of aviation guys trying to reverse engineer a Shadow Flyer. No this panel was more like a flock of bureaucrats trying to cover their exposed posteriors.
That's when an old bit of history pointed me in the right direction. During WWII, Reichsmarschall Herman Goering had boasted, “No enemy bomber can reach the Ruhr. If one does reaches the Ruhr, my name is not Goering. You may address me as Meyer.”
It'd become a joke. First the British with their night bombing raids and then the good ole US of A with their daylight bombing attacks had devastated the infrastructure which fed the German war machine.
Still the computer in my head compelled me to answer and maintain that damn subservient mask it'd made me wear. Ironic that after my unmasking, I was wearing yet another mask, but one created by those who'd programmed that damn implanted computer. It'd also occurred to me that I'd brought this on myself.
The only event that was witnessed by the public was an old woman being arrested by the Special police. At no time did a young American pilot show up at any time. My transformation into Grandmother Hui's sister had further hidden and concealed me. This was all to make certain that my country didn't know I'd been captured.
However to further the irony, apparently now that they had me, they didn't want to believe me. While I can't say I liked or cared for my current position and wanted to avoid the future they had planned for me, that suited me fine. Sure, go ahead and underestimate the Shadow Fliers. There were still two or three of those damn orbital power-sats in orbit. Please give us a chance to knock them down.
Finally to bring this meeting to a head, one of the more belligerent speakers, Mr. Zhao, blew up, in a manner of speaking. “This preposterous! First you claim the American's built an invisible airplane that is completely undetectable by radar, thermal, or electromagnetic sensors, and then a military cadet flew it over five thousand kilometers without the aid of any modern navigational aids.
“Even more ridiculous is the concept that any explosive detonated at the rectenna site might have caused the destruction of the station in orbit. Even nuclear weapons could not have caused such, and as powerful as that explosive was at Fusang One it was not nuclear. Which brings up the fact a glider could never have carried enough explosives to cause the type of damage that occurred. This has to be some kind of deception.”
Li Ziyang who'd simply taken notes throughout, directed me, “Please respond to Mr. Zhao's analysis.”
“The Shadow Flyer is not invisible, but it is very difficult to detect.” I began. “It's design is innovative, but its the materials that are truly the heart of the glider. I can't give detailed explanations because they were kept from me. Obviously someone must've found some sign of my ejection so Col. Wang knew to look for me at all.
“The fact Fusang One was attacked says the Shadow Flyer does exist.” I sighed. “Despite my present appearance, I was sailing and navigating by the stars nearly as soon as I could walk. Those skills were just as helpful when I began flying. Yes, I was an Air Force cadet when I was accepted for the program, but I was given a 2nd' lieutenant’s commission when I completed the Shadow Flier program like all the other successful candidates.
“Microwaves are non-ionizing, and I don't see how the explosion even directed by the dish shaped rectenna could've directed enough force upwards to knock a space-station, but Occam's Razor says that is exactly what happened. The pilot-beam used to direct the microwaves was a laser which can cause ionization. Perhaps that played a part along with the huge power substation that was my aim point.
“However, the United States isn't known for sending out Kamikaze pilots. That is so politically incorrect, I can't see Congress ever allowing it.” I said very carefully not mentioning that what the law makers didn't know they couldn't prevent. Besides not a single person involved with the Flyers disagreed they were suicidal one way trips.
“I was a cadet, but was already an experienced hang-glider and para-sailor pilot before entering the Academy. I received my pilot license in my first year because of my preparation and was set to become a glider instructor. Additionally, I think you gentlemen are aware where I grew up provided ample motivation for me to volunteer for the Shadow Flyer Programer when they came looking for experienced glider pilots.” I actually managed to make eye contact, despite that damn programming. No, I couldn't hold it long, but damn it, I did do it!
Of course it didn't convey the right message. They saw me as a woman who was being disrespectful no matter if they knew I’d once been male. I also had the feeling that we'd wandered into that Chinese concept of 'Face.' Mianzi and the related Guanxi were concepts that honestly baffled me in spite of my cultural experience with my Grandparents and cousins. It was a kind of street cred like thing similar to respect, but much more involved and pervasive. One of the study aids about the subject produced for foreign teachers working in China before the War, said students participation in classes were much less common due to fears of making mistakes in front of others because of it.
An Asian Scholar, Ting-Toomey, I think it was, said “Face was a strategy to protect self-respect and individual identity.”
If these men were the ones responsible for China's air defense, then having their space-station and satellites blown out of the sky would be a mistake out there for the whole world to see. The term national prestige comes to mind especially right after they strutted in front of everyone after their 'Philippine Sea' victory.
“If I may,” Interrupted Col. Wang. “The implausibility of certain aspects of the attacks are well known to us. We know an aircraft was involved due to a last minute sighting as well as the circumstantial evidence of portions of the ejection seat being recovered as well as the parachute and flight suit.
“That led us to the pilot who, although very careful, was apprehended in the end. Additionally, we have testimony from the scientists and doctors that the process used on the pilot is working properly and in their opinion is telling the truth as she knows it.
“I'm not a scientist or an engineer,” Col. Wang continued, “But I do know Americans. They are not prone to throwing their people forward in futile suicidal gestures, but as she has told us, they all knew of the high risk nature of their mission. As well, many were no doubt highly motivated by the emotions that war nurtures in all concerned.
“As for the pilot's skill, the security team recently monitored her playing a harmless game with one of the younger patients. It subtly demonstrates her knowledge of aeronautics and of the principles of gliding.” He gestured towards the video screen at one end of the room.
It was easy to pick me out. All I had to do was look for Grandmother Hui. I knew it was a kind of cop-out, but it let me cope. I just couldn't think of this body as being mine. It didn't compute!
Regardless, there I was folding paper air planes. Then an image of my wheelchair bound friend took my place, along with others, to get a sense of the distance. The next one had me making one last check of conditions before launch.
Professor Secord's aerodynamics class was one of my favorites and if the War hadn't messed up my whole world I'd would've taken his advance studies class, although I was mostly familiar with the material already. He was just that good of a teacher. He'd had all us plebes folding planes as he demonstrated aeronautic principles of the different designs, giving us the ability to see those ideas in real life as we tested them.
From him I knew the world indoor record for paper planes was over 200 feet. My little flier traveled maybe a quarter of that, but I did have a more difficult flight path and I didn't want to use my friend as a lawn dart target. Smiles should be delivered gracefully.
Okay, I will admit a few of my attempts had my target having to move to retrieve them, but honestly my peeking at her didn't show any disappointment. In any case, Col. Wang used the footage of one of my successes having the fragile plane glide right into her lap.
“While not iron proof of her piloting skills this activity is a confirmation that she does know what she is talking about.” Col. Wang defended me. “This meeting was requested to gather specifics about the aircraft which attacked our country. Might I suggest we keep to the tropic?”
Honestly, I blushed as he stood up for me. Oh I sure wish I hadn't, but I couldn't take it back. A thousand curses on that programmer wouldn't be enough!
The rest of the questions indeed were about the Shadow Flyer's dimensions and as much as I could remember about the other technical details. I didn't feel too guilty about this since, like I said before, it was the materials that made the Flyer special. On those I was ignorant except for knowing they were some sort of exotic x-aerogel material which didn't help my interrogators one damn bit.
That made this bearable. I was still an American no matter how much they messed with my mind or body. It sucked that even if by some great miracle I returned to the States I would never be trusted by the powers that be. That would not stop me from doing my duty as I was able.
As the meeting reached it's ending, Mr. Zhao nodded at the Colonel. “With your permission I would like to ask a more general question. Why do you Americans continue to resist? Your aircraft carrier is at the bottom of the sea, and we've proved China can attack with impunity where and when ever it wishes. The object of contention lays in our hands. What is the purpose of continuing?”
“No one will ever know who's fighter fired that first missile which began that incident high over the Philippine Sea.” I saw the whole table object to my statement, but I merely nodded. “You'll say it was the Americans and they'll say it was the Chinese. What everyone does knows is that rather than stand down and let tempers cool, you instead turned your power-sat's masers on the 7th Fleet. That turned a nasty incident into a war.
“From your point of view that might've been simply defending yourself, but everyone else saw as an undeclared act of war.” I took a long breath thanking for the first time that damn chip in my head for keeping me calm. “Now I can talk about it. Hawaii was a stupendous screw-up on your parts. Despite your statements to the contrary almost everyone recognizes that you probably intended on forcing an eruption of Mauna Loa as a show of force. Hawaii's volcanoes were so non-explosive that the type was even named Hawaiian style.”
Even with the damping of my emotions I could feel tears forming.
“No one knows just why your masers triggered a Krakatoa like explosion. Maybe they never will, but what the estimated 200 megaton explosion didn't destroy, the 100 foot tsunami did. The following aftershocks and eruptions turned my home into a vast grave. I'm not going to mention the other 100,000 causalities from all over the Pacific Rim that were killed by the resulting tsunamis.
“I understand how difficult it would be to admit you accidentally blew up over a million people. I also understand the idea of the national loss of face, however when China declared that with Hawaii gone the United States had no reason to interfere with affairs in the Pacific and acted as if it was a premeditated and deliberate act was unforgivable.”
There were some uncomfortable movements on their side of the table.
“What choice has the United States but to accept terms?” Mr. Zhao pressed his question again. “This is not World War Two where the United States held the industrial advantage and was unreachable by its enemies. Much of its electronics and high tech goods were produced here in China or in the recovered territories of Formosa.”
“I see you didn't mention how many of those goods produced had back-doors hardwired into them allowing you access to all kinds of things from top secret military hardware to cellphones.” I riposted. “We found them and adapted, improvised, and overcame the problems. You may have us outnumbered, but we are great problem solvers when we're not quibbling among each other.
“The only reason China isn't a glowing radioactive desert right now is because too many others would hurt in the fallout and the aftermath.” I felt myself shivering from the effects of the computer really messing with me. I hadn't missed that I'd called my own countrymen 'them' instead of us, but this needed to be said.
“At present, even with all that has happened, if China withdrew from Taiwan,” I intentionally used the previous name. “And made reparations, I think some kind of peace could be made, just because of those points you made Mr. Zhao. However, China can't and won't do that will you?
“Just as your national pride prevents that, the US's anger won't allow anything less either. And we're not considering how the rest of the world sees China now. Even the UN has come down on the US's side even though they never acknowledged Taiwan as an independent nation.
“I don't believe things have gotten so bad that the United States and its Allies are going to demand an unconditional surrender, but I would be very careful of future activities.” Overwhelmed by the implant at last, I lowered my eyes and bowed my head.
Regardless, I was aware how each and everyone of them were staring at me in disbelief. Even Col. Wang, but his was more thoughtful than theirs. Well, he had spent time in the States. Perhaps he understood our character better, or not, I decided. If I, as an American, had trouble with the Chinese culture thing despite my Grandparents, then the Chinese had just as much trouble with Westerners.
They simply couldn't envision the outcome I suggested. They were the most populous country in the world although not the largest. That title still went to Russia, but even Canada and the United States beat them on square area. However, their economy and military might had grown so that everyone had to acknowledge that China had taken its place in the world as a leader.
Unfortunately, certain fractions saw the PRC's new position differently than others. Bluntly put, if national statesmen were rare, world statesmen were practically nonexistent. Yes you don't have to tell me how many times the USA has abused its superpower status to get what it wants. However, regardless of my country's arrogance, we generally tried to do the right thing.
That was something I truthfully couldn't say of the new China. Can you pronounce bully?
Col. Wang once again cleared his throat. “If that is all, this meeting is adjourned.”
My downcast eyes kept me from any last judgments of my interrogators, but off hand I would say the cultural divide was still in full force.
Leading me from the room the dear Colonel had a bombshell that was more than good enough to distract me from anything as inconsequential as a World War.
“The doctors have informed me that your 'recovery' has advanced to the stage where you can be soon released. Under the circumstances, my mother is traveling here to assist in the planning for our wedding,” Col. Wang told me.
His very formality spoke of his discomfort, but that was nothing in comparison to mine! Perhaps it was because of my recent fight with that computer conditioning in the conference room I was more aware that the 'happiness' I felt was induced and most certainly wasn't how I should be feeling.
Me, getting married to a man?
If that wasn't enough his mother was coming?
I was so doomed!
Johnny, now Mei, adventures continue with a challenge more daunting than any suicide mission, getting married!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Where to begin?
I did get a chance to say good bye to my friend that I'd been sending the smiles to. It was simple really. All I had to do was ask.
Oh the look on her face as I gently hand delivered my last smiles to her. Her own treatment had advanced as well and she was scooting about in a walker. In the past few days I hadn't seen her father be any more supportive than he was in the beginning. However that had made me more even more determined to see her smile.
“You're so beautiful” was her first words to me.
I kept smiling, hiding my own feelings about my appearance. I no more looked liked a real woman from any kind of racial background at all than any those overly Photo-shopped models from any one of dozens of magazines. Okay, just maybe I do finally get what all the complaints about Barbie Dolls were all about now. Being an living Chinese example of one certainly changes one's prospective.
However, my young friend didn't need to hear any of my griping about unrealistic expectations of men about how women look.
“I'm Mei.” My gift to her was hidden behind my back. It was rather surprising to me that my request was granted even if I wasn't allowed access to the internet yet. I had no idea as to why. That damn thing in my head had me locked down tight. Still my description and why I picked it was simple enough.
“I'm Bao,” She politely replied, but with a bright smile that was usually missing.
“I see you got my messages.” Shifting, I kept her from peeking at what I hid.
Her face showed her confusion for just a moment before she translated my paper aircraft into messages. “The airplanes!”
Nodding I pointed to my smile. “You were so sad sitting down here among the flowers that I sent you one of mine. Understand, I think a few may still be in the garden somewhere, but that is the nature of smiles. Sometimes they go places and cause things you never expect.”
I fluttered my free hand like a rather silly flying bird, causing both of us to laugh.
“However, like I can see, you're getting better... so am I.” Distractingly, I found myself making the appropriate feminine body language gestures. They no longer appeared robotic or exaggerated since I'd worked hard on making them habit, but that didn't mean I was comfortable with them. It was a little like surrendering to what had been done to me, but like one of my Air Force Academy buddies used to say, you had to race the car you brought to the track. At least now my gestures attracted a little less attention since I could moderate them within some limits. It wasn't as if how I appeared now didn't make me stand out no matter how I felt about it.
For whatever good it did me, they were my gestures now and not the computers or the programmers who ran it.
“I'm being released soon, but I couldn't leave without any explanation. Being able to bring my smiles to you distracted me from my own treatment while here.” Somehow I kept the bitterness from my voice. There had been no healing for me here, only a deliberate crippling and maiming of what made me who I was.
But I was still alive.
Taking into account the People's Republic of China's record on the importance of life that was not a minor consideration. Things hadn't gotten any better with the current regime or their actions either. The losses of life because of their decisions were in the millions and the War they had precipitated wasn't over yet.
However that was something else Bao didn't need to hear, although I feared she would learn of it the hard way. If her father was as high in the party hierarchy as rumored then when the crap from this War began rolling down hill she might very well be caught in it.
Which was another reason why I wanted to leave on a bright note instead of leave more sadness for this little girl who was having to learn how to walk again all over again.
Her 'Oh' and downcast eyes said it all.
“That's why I have this for you.” I said revealing her present.
Like any kid, her eyes lit up as I gestured to the garden benches for us to sit down. With her walker, Bao needed both hands to get around so it was much safer to give her the present after she was no longer vertical, although I don't doubt that she would've tried. Kids are that way after all.
Her enthusiasm as she shuffled to sit down was a marked difference from the trudge of before. That contrasted with the intense concentration as she carefully unwrapped my gift without the fury of most kids her age.
I let out a breath as I silently thanked the Colonel for his choice of wrapping since she showed all the signs of keeping it. He had accommodated my request for Western style wrapping paper. He'd even found the Chinese kite themed stuff I'd suggested knowing of Bao's father. I didn't want her to be a victim of his possible nationalistic fever. Since the very first recorded human flight was by Yuan Huangtou by way of a kite in the year 559, I couldn't think of a reason why he would object unless it was because she was a girl and girls didn't do such things.
Of course her recently barely surviving breaking her neck on the playground might play a part in his thinking as well.
Bao looked up at me as she discovered the 'Kid's Book of Paper Airplanes.'
“Since you've gotten so many that I've made, I thought it time you learn to make your own.”
Her walker, her culture, and the class divide between us made her hugging me impractical, but I saw the intense happiness in her eyes just the same.
Placing my hand on hers, I asked, “Why don't we fly some airplanes?”
In the days that followed, I thought about that afternoon a lot. While the Colonel’s mother wasn't a tyrant or shew, she didn't take any non-sense. In a lot of ways his parents were true believers in the Cultural Revolution. That was tempered with a bit of common sense that politicians are much the same no matter where you found them.
I did get the feeling they found his being distrusted by the ruling elite very frustrating and something they didn't really grasp. Their son was raised to be a loyal party member. Yes, he did learn what the imperialistic Americans knew about police and detective work, but how else were you to know your enemy?
On the practical side, they understood that their traditional Chinese retirement plan, their son's career, depended on his marrying me. At least from their view point I was an orphan who didn't come with my own parents that needed supporting, even if I bought very little to the marriage except assuring that promotion.
After getting to know him if only from his visits, I thought I knew why the distrust. He took to life in the States just a little too enthusiastically. As much as he was a product of his upbringing, he was also intensely intelligent. I think it was that intellectual freedom to discuss nearly anything without fear of consequences that a word misheard by unintended listeners might have dire consequences.
There was more than a little truth in saying he was too smart for his own good. He had a vast number of interests and I really had to wonder just how he'd ended up where he did. The criminology thing explained much since it touched on a lot of different subjects. It was a field he did well in. I'll admit he wasn't exactly a Charlie Chan, or a Chinese Sherlock Holmes, but he did come close.
I even learned, finally, just what gave me away.
Bad Breath.
Or in this case the lack of it. That made him do some checking and the discovery that, while I'd didn't have teeth or a tongue, I also didn't have the mouth of an old woman. Damn that forensics degree he'd earned!
Which bought up yet another matter.
I'd found my body becoming aroused in his presence. No lie, that I was well aware I was being conditioned. Hell, I could even say I liked my Colonel when I had ample reason to hate his guts. Yeah, I was being played like a cheap piano and although I knew, I couldn't do a single thing about it.
Perhaps the only good thing about any of this was, if they'd truly wanted to they could've broken me, leaving nothing of the person I'd once been. For instance they left the vital parts of me alone such as my love of aviation and stuff about my Hawaiian heritage.
All they had to do was apply that old Don't-Think-Of-This technique and use that damn computer to burn out or alter how I felt about them. As it was, I was very careful not show any overt interest in those things, excepting of course my paper airplanes with Bao.
First, they didn't need to break me since they were slowly molding me anyways, and this is a guess, they didn't want to damage any additional information I still have concerning the Shadow Flyers.
Okay, that wasn't the only good, but the other was unwanted. I'm talking about that arousal thing, sex. I had no idea of how it was really like for women. They didn't have their gray matter being manipulated by a bunch of perverted Chinese mad scientists.
I didn't want to like it, but damn!
After they ran me on auto-pilot a few times, forcing me to masturbate, I couldn't help myself. Again, I knew what they were doing, but was once again helpless to prevent it. Connecting the dots wasn't hard. First they get me hooked with the female orgasm thing and then connect my arousal to the Colonel.
Evil isn't it?
Now you see part of why puppeting was so controversial.
In one of the very seldom times Dr. Wu explained any thing, he crowed that, with my DNA reformatting, my brain had taken on certain female characteristics. This conditioning was simply to accustom me to female patterns. Yeah right, if you believe that do I have the deal for you.
I must admit that I was rather surprised at the wedding preparations. Officially China is atheist, but it does recognize some religions particularly the traditional Chinese faiths. Instead of the red Cheongsam my Grandmother was wearing in her wedding pictures this one was much like a western styled white wedding dress, but had the Chinese dragons and phoenixes embroidered upon it.
That compromise with the official Party line, but with a nod to the traditional set the tone for this ordeal. They, we, even went to a Fung Suey 'consultant,' not a fortune teller thank you, to find our auspicious day. The date was set for mid-December. What a Christmas present, not! The date was set for mid-December. What a Christmas present, not! He of course was in his formal military uniform which made sense because, he was still walking the line with his bosses. See I'm a good little Special Police Colonel.
Like I said, his Mom, Cai, jumped into this thing like a one of the Academy's Training Instructors, MTIs. I absolutely was not Bridezilla, but just maybe she was the Mother-of-the-Groom-Zilla. The fittings for the dress and the other activities were run like military training exercises. You do it over and over again until you're dreaming about it and can do it in your sleep. It wasn't as if that damn computer in my head would let me make a mistake anyways, but Cai wasn't leaving anything to chance.
Her one and only child, as mandated by the Communist Party of China, was getting married and it was going to be perfect!
Even I had to admit that I looked striking in the dress with my ridiculous Chinese Barbie Doll proportions. For damn certain, my emotions were being played with via those implants in my head, since I wasn't freaking out again. Like most guys I never thought very much about getting married except to say that if I met the right girl, maybe. After I'd spent some time at the Academy, and went to a military wedding, I'll be honest and say the whole walking under the arch of swords had its appeal.
ME, being the one in the dress and heels was the furthest thing from my thoughts.
Walking down the aisle in white, in front of the relatively small group of his family, friends, and official presences was harder than flying final guiding my Shadow Flyer on my last flight.
At least I managed to keep from defaulting into auto-pilot with that damn computer running me. However, I think it was closer than I would like. The feeling of being completely helpless as your body moves without your say or input is something no horror movie or story can ever convey.
It's bad.
Again with at least publicly keeping inline with the atheist thing, instead of a church wedding, it was more like their version of the Justice of the Peace ceremony. Although I was in the middle of this, this …, farce, the lack of spirituality was striking. Shock and awe were great as military tactics, but just maybe it's not for weddings. Perhaps it was my Hawaiian upbringing that made this so apparent since for at least my father's family, such things were very spiritual.
It wasn't as if any of this was legal in the international sense except perhaps in a very convoluted twisted fashion. Capturing me and not notifying anyone about it was strike one. I was in disguise, but had my uniform on underneath it was well as my dog-tags.
Strike two was the cruel and unusual punishment of not only maiming me mentally with the puppet implants, but their rape of my DNA. My legal status with that stuff in my head which could override my own will, generally was considered incompetent to look after my own affairs since anyone who had the access codes could make me do just about anything.
This marriage was case in point.
Strike three was, well, I was getting married! If I had a chance I would've said, 'Hell no, I do not!,' but I was being forced to go though with this anyways. While the Colonel had been pretty nice to me since my involuntary transformation, I hadn't forgotten he was responsible for Strike Two. He had recommended the procedure that had maimed me for life.
With that in mind, part of me was apprehensive as hell about this. Sure he'd been reasonably nice, but what would happen after this? I would be under his complete control and I already knew he had the codes to make me do any damn thing he wanted.
Inwardly sighing, I knew there was no point in worrying about it. For now, I was under their control and that was that. There was no point in trying to object or show defiance at this point, as we stood before the presiding official.
It was really nothing more than a public acknowledgment that the marriage was officially registered.
Then things really got crazy with the wedding banquet. One of the things I'd never gotten used to was the prevalence of smokers in China. It seemed like everyone smoked and wasn't shy about lighting up just about anywhere, although there were bans in certain places like government buildings and such. In the rented reception hall there was a cloud of tobacco smoke. Just to make things worse I was badly aroused and getting, err, hotter with every minute.
I almost wanted to slap my new husband when he tried to be a gentleman.
“I'm aware that the doctors may have used your implant to motivate you to become affectionate tonight.” He said softly during one of the rare moments we had together before reaching the banquet. “Please know I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. We'll take this at your own pace for what you feel comfortable with.”
Those very same implants he was talking about wouldn't let me gape at him in disbelief. Instead my face had this coy, shy expression which didn't show the outright lust those 'doctors' had been sowing in me for weeks.
In very crude terms, I had an itch and he was the one I wanted to scratch it.
Or more accurately he was the one I'd been conditioned to want to ease my, hmmm, discomfort.
Of course they didn't want me to tell him this for any number of reasons, from stroking his ego, to make him buy into the illusion I was truly okay with this. They didn't know him very well if they expected that, but I decided to help his understanding along.
“What make you think I need additional motivation?” I huskily replied, doing everything, but humping his leg. A weakness I'd discovered, a programmers blind spot, it didn't keep me from going too far in the other direction. They assumed that I wouldn't, although there were some limits.
Holding me, I felt his own arousal, but his anger too. After chasing me half-way across China and my 'questioning,' this man knew me. However much I was barely hanging onto proper behavior, I knew his simply using his 'codes' wasn't that easy.
This was a specialized program designed to condition me into being his wife in all respects. His codes were like a TV remote meant to take direct control like, freezing me in place, causing instant sleep or other simple commands. He could even make me follow him, and keep silent for example since he was commanding the computer and not really me.
Tell it to interrupt a complicated and complex program where it was manipulating my hormones and brain chemistry, not so much.
“How bad is it?” He asked, gently. Wang Feng was a skilled detective well versed in reading body language.
“I'll do my best not to embarrass you.” I answered, scared I'd gone too far already. My self-control was not so good. “Please remember my past.” I asked, hoping that he wouldn't get too crazy having his own sex toy.
“I shall.” He led me into the hall.
I touched my rounded belly with more than a little wonder. Pregnant, me?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
I touched my rounded belly with more than a little wonder. Pregnant, me? Twins? One boy and one girl if the obstetrician wasn't wrong. Twelve weeks was a little early for them to be sure, but Doctor Chin seemed certain. I even had pictures of my yet to be twins in my purse.
Not that getting to this point had been easy at any point during this so very strange journey of mine.
After that very energetic honeymoon night, my husband had objected to my libido being so, … elevated. Doctor Wu, the mad scientist himself, insisted this was natural for the body I had now. I'm not sure that Feng believed him. I know I didn't!
Like it or not my body liked sex. I knew what I thought about it, but my Chinese Barbie Doll body had other ideas. It was … intense. I couldn't even get pissed off at Feng because he, if not a gentleman, didn't abuse the privilege. More often than not it was me who commenced events.
Becoming pregnant almost from our first night together and this nympho-like libido of mine, made me really suspicious this was just the way my 'reformatted' body behaved. It was possible this was the way I'd been designed which, if anything, was scarier. If they could deliberately and reliably do this to just anyone, be afraid, very afraid.
If I had a wedding for Christmas, Chinese New Year, also known as the Spring Festival, was a little after my first 12 weeks. I'd my examination earlier in the week just before we were to leave for his parents place. The good news was, with my pregnancy, he decided to spring for air travel instead of the trains or buses like the rest of the millions of Chinese holiday travelers.
It was still very busy flying out of Beijing, but not anywhere near the chaos at the train and bus stations. Looking out at the plane's window at the ground far below, I missed flying with a passion. Being here stuck with the passengers and not on the flight deck really rubbed in how far I'd fallen. Just like Icarus I'd flown too high and had lost my wings, among other things.
Asking the question, I'd asked myself a thousand times, 'Was it worth it?'
So far despite all my ordeals, including being preggers with twins, the answer was yes.
The Allies had even almost caused the Golden Week of Spring Festival to be canceled. About two weeks ago, details were sketchy, but the People's Liberation Army Navy's first aircraft carrier, the Liaoning, was at the bottom of the East China Sea. Since they had taken back Taiwan, their 23rd province, the PLAN decided to force their claims on the Senkaku Islands which had been under dispute by both the PRC and Japan.
It was my guess that they were also playing hardball since Japan was still wiggling out from signing a separate peace treaty.
Just how that had happen wasn't being said, but submarines had been mentioned as well as apparently one hell of a furball of fighters, had mixed it up with PRC planes from the Liaoning, and Taiwan versus the Allies from Okinawa. Just as a guess, the good guys had won that one since losing a carrier was expensive, but so were modern jets. There was also the worry at the government's statement they'd fired missiles at Naha, Okinawa. Once again the PRC showed their willingness to shoot at civilians.
I felt like a bit of a hypocrite, seeing how I did attack the rectenna at Fusang One which was not strictly speaking military, although it was still a target given its strategic importance to China's power generation industry. Tiangong 5 was an entirely different question. While there might've been civilians on-board that space-station, not only did it have weapons, it attacked the 7th Fleet and Hawaii, it was also the control center for the other so-called power-sats.
Considering what the things did to my home, if they weren't weapons of mass destruction I didn't know what were.
So in my mind at least there was a world of difference between what I did and the PRC's actions. That didn't make me miss my freedom or flying any less, but that was the way things were.
However, it wasn't all bad. Feng was damn near a paragon of virtue for a Chinese man. We actually had a relationship instead of him treating me like the sex toy I'd feared. Perhaps it was guilt over what had been done to me or perhaps some kind rationalization given I used to be male. Whatever his reasons he appeared to delight in making me laugh and smile.
He did take some ribbing from his small circle of friends about it, but even his reply caused me to smile.
“If you had a wife like mine, you would too.”
And the look on his face when he got the news about the twins. Sure, I know my head has been brainwashed so completely there's not as much of my Father and Mother's son as I would like, but some part remains. Already I was thinking how to get around my implants so I could pass on some of my heritage to the children I bore.
My family would live on though me.
It was a long flight from Beijing to Harbin where we had a short layover until we could continue our journey to Mohe. Yeah, his parents lived about as far north as it was possible to get in China.
Because of that we were flying on a twin engine turboprop, a domestically produced version of the old Soviet An-24 design, an Xian MA600. It was sure a lot bigger than the Diamond DA42s I'd begun my own multi-engine training on. I'd really just gotten my twin engine rating, when the War had changed everything
I'm not even going to talk about how cold it was, even on our very brief time outside boarding the plane. The idea that it would be even colder at our destination made me shiver thinking about it. This body of mine didn't have an once of extra fat and I felt the cold intensely. Even at 12 weeks and despite being bundled up, my baby bump was clearly visible. At least I hadn't reached that awkward to move around state yet, but it was coming.
Of course being in a far lighter aircraft than the huge Airbus A380 jet liner that had carried us from Beijing, we were far more effected by turbulence, as well as flying lower where it was less... calm.
I found myself having to reassure my smart detective husband that all was well.
“Relax.” I smiled. “This is normal.” What I really wanted was to get him in a glider to show him what real flying was all about, but that would never happen.
“How would you know if it wasn't?” He asked gripping the arm rests with a death grip.
“Oh you would know.” I replied, not knowing fate was listening to my every word.
Thank Gawd I wasn't looking out the window when the flash came. Instinctively, I grabbed my seat belt yanking it tight, wishing I had a real harness.
“Nuclear flash!” I hissed to Feng, knowing we had mere seconds if that. “Tighten your belt!”
With this War of power-sats and the real possibility of nukes, we Air Force cadets had received training not seen since the fall of the USSR. When all you could do was Duck and cover, you ducked and covered by Gawd!
The MA600 proved it was just as rugged as the An-24 design that had inspired it as the shock wave tossed us about like a leaf upon the wind.
Thankfully, because of the prior turbulence, everyone was wearing their belts, but such things are relative. Being prepared had us less battered than everyone else. The moans and outright grasps of pain told that story.
The good news was we did level out and looked stable. The bad was really obvious. Nuclear flashes meant that somewhere The Bomb had been used. I couldn't see any mushroom clouds from my limited field of view, but it had been near enough where we felt the shockwave. That made me worry about radiation and for my babies, but survival came first.
Feng was back to being Col. Wang Special Police as he unbuckled his seat belt.
“I'll be back.” He reassured me.
Waiting for his return wasn't easy. The cabin stank of panic and fear. There were my own concerns about what I'd witnessed. Obviously the PRC's Ballistic missile shield was down. I really hoped that where ever that nuke had landed, it hadn't been a city. Unfortunately, like in the US, most military bases were near and around population centers.
Lost in my thoughts, I was startled when a stewardess tapped me on the shoulder. “Your husband needs you up front.”
Only nodding, I got up watching her eyes grow wide as she saw I was pregnant.
None of the possible reasons why I was wanted in the cockpit, were good.
Watching the softly moaning co-pilot as he was being attended to by another flight attendant, my stomach knotted. Yes, it was bad.
“Both pilots are blinded.” Feng told me in a whisper as to not worsen the the situation among the passengers. “Captain Cheung was able to engage the auto-pilot and stabilize the plane after the 'disturbance,' but he is still disabled.
“Are you really a pilot?” The aircraft's pilot asked.
He was an older man with his eyes tightly closed in distress and pain.
“Yes Captain, I am, but with limited experience. “ I qualified. “This aircraft is considerably larger than anything I've flown. I was at the Air Force Academy with ratings in single engine and light multi-engine.” Very carefully I did not say which Academy I'd attended. “Additionally, I was a student glider instructor.”
“There is no one else.” The airline pilot managed to say. “Please do not wreck my aircraft.”
Then formally, “You have the aircraft.”
Seating myself, I was very thankful I hadn't lost any height. The right-hand seat required little adjustment even if despite being pregnant, it swallowed me up.
Feng gently touched my shoulder. Looking up at him, I could see many thoughts going though his mind. However, most of all was his concern.
“You'll need to be at your best.” He said with a sigh. “Forgive me.”
Somehow I didn't hear what he said next. My mind was extraordinarily clear, as if I'd awakened from a long deep sleep. I smiled up at him knowing that he'd freed me from Dr. Wu's fiendish machine in my head. There was no telling how long this would last or if it was a good thing.
Yet I could see his uncertainty. If I felt unsure how much I felt for him was real and which was only the implants, he had the same dilemma. He seemed to truly care for me, so this couldn't be easy for him. He'd let me go. Perhaps the real question was would I come back? I can't say what I felt for him was any different, but first I had to get all of us back on the ground, safe.
Slipping on the headset, and snapping my harness securely, it was time to be a pilot again.
“This is Flight 214. We're declaring an inflight emergency. Both pilots are incapacitated due to flash blindness from unknown source. I'm a passenger with some light single and twin engine training. Please advise.”
A half hour later I had the full scope of the seriousness of our situation.
“First the good news.” I announced to my husband and the senior stewardess. “This doesn’t appear to have been nuclear at least so far, despite the flash. No EMP, and very little radiation. All the aircraft's electronics are in working order and regional communications at least are unaffected.” I couldn't help my hand touching my baby bump. They were safe from growing three eyes or extra arms or legs at least from that.
“And the bad?” He asked.
“Whatever happened hit in several locations which has all the military regions on high alert. Exactly what and how bad they were hit, the standard news blackout has blocked everything. It also means that all the PLAAF bases are dispersing their aircraft as preventive measures, which also means they're ordering every commercial aircraft to land immediately.
“Unfortunately all the available airports, including our destination, are tied up trying to obey impossible orders and don't have time to deal with those like us who just might crackup on the runway, closing it when they need it most. In short, we're getting the runaround.
“If a pilot certified on this make of aircraft was on-board it wouldn't be a problem. It's designed for short unimproved airfields. A clear enough section of road would be sufficient, but I would not want to risk it.”
I saw the question in Feng's eyes as to why. He had a very high opinion of my piloting ability, but I was aware of my limitations.
“You know how to drive a car don't you?” I asked him.
“Of course I do. You know that.” He answered, curious why I asked.
“Does that mean you also know how to drive a tractor-trailer or other heavy equipment?” My next question made my point.
He nodded in understanding. “Although the principles are similar this plane is much bigger than you're accustomed to operating?”
“Exactly,” I answered. “And each type of aircraft has different characteristics which you have to take into account. The odds are high that I can land us safely, under normal conditions at an airfield with a large forgiving runway to make my approach and landing as painless as possible since I am unfamiliar with how this model handles.”
“But things are not normal.” He finished for me. “It is very likely that flight controllers have been directed to not risk obstructing their operations.”
I nodded. Better than I, he was aware of the chaos that had to be going on at all levels of the PRC.
“And we don't know if there are more strikes incoming or if the PLA is going to retaliate with ICBMs.” I added, stating one of my worries. “We really don't want to be flying around if the missiles begin flying. That would be bad.
“There is an option, but it comes with problems,” I reported. “Blagoveshchensk is the Russian city across the Amur river from Heihe. They are accepting inflight emergencies such as ours.”
I didn't have to say anymore than that, although the stewardess looked at me and the Colonel. Yes, Feng most definitely had his official face on. China's relations with Russia had hit a low, although not as bad as some in the past. The recent actions of China's leaders were having wide repercussions and none of them were good for their neighbor to the north.
His being a Colonel could possibly result in him being held and that didn't even began to address me. Officially, I had an identity manufactured by the PRC, but any kind of modern customs check would find my implants and puppet status. The procedure was new and controversial enough that questions would be asked.
And the implant would not allow me to lie, at least under normal circumstances. It could keep me from answering, which bought up the point of Feng reactivating whatever he'd shutdown with those codes which I couldn't understand.
“We have no choice.” He sighed.
“Ignatyevo Tower this Flight 214.” I began. “Bring us in.”
An hour later I was carefully following directions. Compared to the trainers and gliders most of my limited experience had been in, this MA600 really was like a truck. However, it was also very forgiving which was a good thing. It was designed to be exactly that, a very reliable flying truck or in this case a bus.
Even still I found myself enjoying the experience of the challenge.
There was a tense moment when we announced our intention to Heihe Tower to land at Ignatyevo airport which served Blagoveshchensk. China was rather crazy about domestic flights landing in other countries, emergencies or not. Fortunately they simply acknowledged our intention. It wasn't as if anywhere in China would give us clearance to land and our fuel wouldn't last forever.
However, from just overhearing the chatter, the towers were landing everything else that wasn't hazardous as fast as they could. The sky was clearing fast.
As much as I loved being in the air again, that made me just as eager to land this bird. Some times the friendly skies, aren't. That was made very certain as we passed over the Amur river, the border into Russia.
A pair of Russian Su-35's with their rotating vector thrust nozzles making them able to fly slow enough for a lumbering crate like the MA600, took a good look at us. Supposedly they were our escorts, but it was plain Russia wasn't taking any chances of the War drifting over their borders.
Then things got busy as I juggled decent rates, and had the occasional frantic search for this control or that readout. However, the moment wheels hit the tarmac, I knew that I had stuck the landing. Reversing thrust with the prop pitch, I killed our velocity as we rolled to a stop.
Behind me, I heard the shouts of happiness from the passengers who'd perhaps hadn't enjoyed my joy-ride as much as I had. That did not keep me from letting a very long breath I hadn't known I was holding.
Welcome to Russia.
Looking up at Feng, I half-expected to hear him to say something else, I couldn't comprehend, but instead he turned inscrutable Asian on me. Releasing my harness, I appreciated his aid helping me up. I didn't understand just how tense that few hours behind the stick had been.
Raised under older more disciplined traditions, he'd always restricted his public displays of affection to holding hands or, rarely, hugs. However, this time I wasn't giving him a choice as I hugged him tight and lightly kissed his lips.
The airport's people herded us off the plane as fast as they could so the next wounded Chinese plane could seek a roost. It wasn't as lucky as ours. Overshooting the landing, the twin engine jet ended up in a ruin at the end of the runway. As the army of rescue vehicles responded, I could see that all of Alright Airlines Flight 214 knew that could've been their fate, except for one pregnant Chinese woman on a very strange journey.
Then came the officials.
Since this was to be a domestic flight, very few carried passports, myself included. All we had were our Resident Identity Cards. Customs was pretty simple. They wanted to know who we were and then, at the earliest possible opportunity, we would be bused and ferried back to Hehei. Of course with other aerial refugees still coming in that would wait till we could all be shipped back together.
There was a tense moment when Feng surrendered his service weapon, but besides keeping an eye on him everything seemed alright. You know what they say about speaking too soon.
“Mrs. Wang may we speak with you about the flight?” A burly Russian asked, making it plain this was not a request.
“Alone.” His sidekick glared at Feng, as my husband began to stand to come with me.
Grasping his hand, to my baby bump. “We will be fine.” I assure him.
There was a woman also with them, but she didn't appear any less imposing particularly to the very willowy me. Either of the three could've broken me like a slender stick without effort I might add.
“Mrs. Wang,” Surprisingly it was the woman who spoke. “We have some questions. We see you are a recipient of therapeutic implants but there are no records of this, although such things are relativity new. You also told Capt. Cheong that you were a pilot, but again there is no evidence of the claim. Can you clear up the confusion?”
“The truth might seem like the strangest fiction you're ever heard,” I began. “But for the moment I appear to have a measure of freedom.”
“My birth name was Johnny Ohana. I'm a 2nd lieutenant United States Air Force. I was captured following a bombing mission into …
For some strange reason that's completely beyond me, they believed my story. I wouldn't have and I lived it! They wouldn't let me see my Colonel after that. They feared he would re-lock my programming. There's no need to go into a lot of detail into what came next since most of it was a lot waiting.
I was treated well, and when things did change, I got a laugh out of it. The expression on the US Embassy military attache's face when I gave the correct, although outdated pass phases, was a sight to see.
Not so nice was the extremely thorough examination I received at an undisclosed US military hospital in Europe. I don't know if they thought I was carrying some kind of secret plague or what, but I had the pleasure of seeing them acknowledge that I was who I said I was. The DNA testing suggested I was my sister, if not me. Since I was the only remaining Ohana, I had to be who I said I was.
The other good news was that I hadn't lost my Hawaiian heritage. The way the doctors explained it, somehow those genes had been turned off, but they were still there. That meant that my children would inherit the family's Hawaiian heritage.
Unfortunately, I had to listen to their opinion that my babies were products of rape and they advised me to abort. Personally I think they just wanted to experiment on the fetus, given what was done to me, but I flatly told them, no.
“I'll never be trusted to fly so much as a corp-duster again, much less a fighter.” I told them. “I know I've been conditioned to think and act like this, but I'm content with my pregnancy. Further more I've been poked, podded, and experimented on enough by the Chinese and don't need you to join the club.”
Bizarrely, it worked.
Then again my CIA handlers from my Shadow Flier training days made an appearance and right after that, the doctors shut up. Really I think it was that last effort at proving exactly who I really was since they had known and worked with me. I must've been really convincing because not more than a day later I was on a plane back to the states. Personally, I think everyone knew more about this gene reformatting/turning off thing than they let on. Yours truly was only a representation of how the other side did things.
Speaking of which, China's nuclear deterrent forces had gotten pasted. The news media didn't know the details, and for once not a soul was leaking anything out of Washington DC. Part of what was known was that the rest of China's 'power-sats' had been knocked down, and the replacements for the ones my and fellow Shadow Fliers had knocked down were burning wreckage on their launch pads.
If it really was The Shadow Flyers who did the job or not, I was told it was classified. Personally, I preferred to think that it was us that broke the back of the Chinese Red Dragon. That way the sacrifices of those who winged their way across the night skies weren't for nothing. They meant something and had value
All that faded to irrelevance as my C-37A Gulfstream V plane touched down at Andrews AFB. I'd been a little surprised at the VIP treatment, but had learned, of all the Shadow Fliers, I was the solitary survivor.
That made the occasion even more poignant for me as I stepped off the plane. I had made it back.
I was home.
Epilogue
Two years later.
I stood waiting at John Wayne International looking for his flight. Little Feng and his twin sister Hui were napping, worn out by all the new sights and my own anxiety over all of this.
Despite everyone saying different, I was determined to see this though. My therapist said it was a bad idea. My Doctor said it was a bad idea. My Veteran Administration case worker said it was a bad idea.
Even my cousin Aolani wasn't any too sure, but I'd argued it'd been two years. If I wasn't over him yet without that computer in my head pushing, then there was more to it than just being programmed to be his wife.
A real jewel, she'd laughed and hugged me saying, “You're just a horny bitch with two kids and no time to go looking for someone to scratch your itch.”
Looking her in the eyes, I'd replied, “And who has just ended her third marriage with three brats of her own?”
We'd both dissolved into laughter and tears holding each other. She'd saved my sanity in a very real way, taking responsibility for me after I'd been released from the shrinks. The Air Force had given me a box full of medals with classified citations, a medical retirement and 100% disability.
However, I still had that computer in my head because trying to remove it would probably kill me. After the war ended, very politely a request was made for the codes to that damn implant. The Chinese as expected, ignored it and claimed I was a Chinese citizen who'd been kidnapped against her will. Going to plan B, an agency who won't be named cracked the code in a single afternoon, letting me know in no uncertain terms how vulnerable I was. Anyone with that string of numbers and letters could control me.
The sad fact was, no matter how advanced there were limits to how much you could jam into anyone's head without causing more problems than you were solving. That only left just so much room and space for security. With a little help from that same agency we came up with a layered plan to keep my head free of unwanted guests. Excuse me, but I'm not going into details for real good reasons. However, so far it'd worked, even though I'll have to live with the threat of someone taking me over, for the rest of my life.
As depressing as that might be, I had my twins and Aolani's brood too, family, to hold onto. I was taking classes to complete the degree I'd begun at the Air Force Academy, going into education and science. Perhaps I would never fly the cutting edge stuff again, but just maybe being able to inspire the next generation to strap on a plane or rocket and aim for infinity would be enough.
Goodness knows the good old USA needed some goals. The War had served up a big unpleasant piece of Humble Pie to America. Sure we had triumphed, but we would be paying the bill for a long time. The ships, submarines, and aircraft lost were only the material things lost. The skilled soldiers, pilots, and sailors were even more valuable and couldn't be replaced anywhere near as easily. Additionally, the War had reached American soil and Hawaii's wound would be a long time healing.
In a lot of ways we were like Great Britain right after WWII. We were still a world power, but we weren't THE world power anymore. Twilight's last gleaming had come to our shores.
The League of Nations that'd been birthed by WWI had failed to prevent WWII. The United Nations was a step in the right direction, but it too had failed to prevent WWIII. Would the United Nations new mandate be any more effective at preventing the next war? We could only hope and pray, but most of all stay vigilant and take nothing for granted.
One eye watched the arrivals monitor while another looked at the aircraft landing, taxiing, and being guided to the passenger terminal. Perhaps, I would never fly as high as I once had, but still I'd manged to soar. The glider club I belonged too was a gawd send although it was a real trick to keep up the dues on my limited income. That's not adding in finding the time with tending to the twins, going to school, and attending to my on-going medical care.
Still I managed.
Checking my appearance in the window's reflection, I smiled as I saw his flight make its way to the terminal.
My cousin gently elbowed me as she rolled her eyes.
Grasping the twins' two-seater stroller, we headed to the arrivals gate. My cousins' own stroller with her youngest, Susan, had her other two older children holding on to it as we walked though the busy airport.
While Aolani might not have objected to this reunion, she said, in no uncertain words, she didn't trust him. Besides, she and her brood made chaperones par excellent. At least she was more accepting of my decision than my other minders. They saw him as my jailer and abuser.
The only reason they didn't actively try and stop this meeting is because the same computer that caused me so much turmoil also recorded he'd never mistreated me nor even gotten very kinky despite having every opportunity. The whole libido thing really was apparently natural to me now although I had learned to use that same computer to moderate it down to more normal levels. Which didn't do anything about making my cousin tease me any less over my purchase of batteries for my … toys.
By this time little Feng and Hui had caught on something was going on and had wakened. Yeah I know traditional Chinese naming conventions didn't do the junior thing, but little Feng and Hui were named in honor of my maternal grandparents. The traditional Chinese could go and, okay I won't go there, but I did think it.
My heart skipped a beat as he came into sight. A warm feeling filled me as I saw his eyes searching the crowd just as intently as mine when I was looking for him.
Without conscious thought I found myself in his arms for the first time in two years. For once he put aside his Chinese reserve and hugged me just as passionately. Then looking into each others eyes, we both blushed red.
Burying my face against his shoulder, I whispered, “I've missed you. Why did you ever let me go?”
“Because, I knew they would hold you in Russia, and no one was firing nuclear weapons at them. There, you and the children would be safe.” He replied with his face nuzzling my hair.
“And because it was the right thing to do.” Feng said softly. “I had no idea if you truly cared for me or if it was imposed. Perhaps I did spend too much time in the West, because I want something else besides duty and obeying traditional obligations even if you do look like the woman out of my dreams.”
“You mean a pale anorexic who is all legs and boobs?” I teased. Eventually I had come to terms with my appearance. My cousin had helped in a weird way since she'd become jealous after I'd slimmed back down to rail thin after my pregnancy. Well, almost because after breast feeding the twins, I was even more buxom.
“Yes,” was his simple reply. His arms around me were more than enough additional explanation.
I looked up into his eyes. “We both know I was programmed to desire you and feel certain ways when with you. However, you never gave me any reason not to care or dislike you even after that was 'turned off.' In fact, I'm amazed you didn't try to punish or hurt the 'pilot' who bombed your country.”
“Who would never have been there if the leaders I'd followed had been as wise or as competent as they claimed.” He countered. “That same person had the audacity to very nearly escape while I ran hither and yon chasing them, not realizing you had walked right by me. I admired your courage, skill and once I began to know you, your compassion and heart.”
“So shall we try again, from the beginning?” I asked, smiling.
“From the beginning.” He nodded, taking my hand. “Hello, I'm Wang Feng, formerly a detective from China.”
“Hello yourself,” I blushed. “I'm Mei Ohana, now living in Temecula, California.” My Chinese marriage wasn't recognized by the world at large and so I used my maiden name, not that I'd ever been a maiden.
“Just to show you we have everything upside down and backwards.” I giggled. “Let me introduce you to our children.”
Arm in arm I led him to where my family and the future waited.
We cast our words out upon the wide digital sea not knowing where the ebb and flow of electrons may take them. The words we write maybe forgotten or they might bring a smile to brighten another’s day. Standing by the sea, I wonder if I will ever know. Soon I’ll wander back to my worn keyboard, for there are more stories yet to be told. For now I am content to walk the sands, looking for signs of others that have tossed their own words upon the ocean waves trusting in fate and surf to wash them to the furthest shore.
--Me!
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. A big thanks goes out to Cathy who proofed and generally make this readable. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Special thanks to Sarah Lynn Morgan who gave me permission to use parts of her most excellent “The Unicorn’s Gift” Enjoy!
We cast our words out upon the wide digital sea not knowing where the ebb and flow of electrons may take them. The words we write maybe forgotten or they might bring a smile to brighten another’s day. Standing by the sea, I wonder if I will ever know. Soon I’ll wander back to my worn keyboard, for there are more stories yet to be told. For now I am content to walk the sands, looking for signs of others that have tossed their own words upon the ocean waves trusting in fate and surf to wash them to the furthest shore.
--Me!
Maya Zhu-Smith flittered about the seashore archeological site careful not to disturb any of the fragile evidence of a civilization long gone. This find had only been recently reclaimed from the Pacifica Ocean. The old concrete and steel rebar building of the ancients had proved to be no match for the rising sea levels and its unfortunate location in a seismically active area.
Her work-skin’s AG kept her floating above the age old tumbled ruins. The body hugging Uber-brainy fabric was laboring hard at keeping her cool and comfortable in the steamy tropical environment. Looking up from where the excavation was progressing, it was hard to believe that a few thousand centurns ago this had been a temperate area.
Sweeping the area with her hazel eyes, vegetation grew wild covering the landscape next to the beach in a lush carpet of green. All around her, life hummed with clicks, whistles, and chirps of insects, birds and others hidden by the thick growth of the jungle.
“Qbie” she asked, “Any signs of Boogies out there?”
Her Queen Bee AI controlling her personal hive of micro and nano-sized workers, data-sorters, and other tools of the trade, answered from Virt-world. “No, Maya. The Preserve bees were most efficient in preparing the area for our dig.”
Maya nodded. The vicinity had been swept for hostile nanite altered life-forms that had managed to survive from the old wars of the ancients, but it always paid to be cautious. Besides, she had special plans for tonight. Generally Maya preferred, working in her male seeming. Ease of sanitation, and having some extra bulk were always useful out in the field, but she liked socializing as fem. Particular with a marc as attractive as the one Pat made. Just thinking of him and of their last rendezvous made her smile.
nbsp;
She sighed. That was what she got for majoring in archeology and working out in the hind end of the boondocks. However, once Maya had heard about the possibilities of the find, she couldn’t stay away. The Preserve’s caretaker bees had notified Ares University when in the course of their duties they had found ruins dating back to the legendary “Big One,” the disastrous seismic event that had forever altered the old Merican Empire. This could be a potential archeological bonanza.
The Home-world Biological Preserve was a work in progress. The busy AI’s and their hives of bees persevered to restore and care for humanity’s old home. Maya found it hard to believe just how much the old planet had been mistreated. Old nuke craters, nanitie spills, and toxic waste contamination were everywhere it seemed. Not to mention the great big hulking piles of ruins they called cities. What a mess!
The only saving grace was the treasures could be found within those places. Like here she thought, as her hive worked to expose buried chambers that hadn’t seen the light of day in millenniums.
Her hive updated her on its efforts. “Maya,” it said in even modulated tones. “We have reached an interesting strata. The weakened structure has been shored up and treated to prevent further deterioration. Do you want to take a look or should we continue?”
“Thanks Qbie. I’ll take it from here,” she told it, sliding her consciousness fully into the virt-world simulation the AI had constructed of the site.
Taking personal control of the work, Maya sent in her specialized data-miner bees. It was a good thing that many primitive pre-Enlightened civilizations overbuilt their archives to ridiculous extremes. Without that, few records of those bygone times would have survived for modern culture to find.
One by one Maya carefully wormed streams of her tools into the decayed materials. Time hadn’t treated the plastics and metals gently, but modern recovery methods at her disposal working at quantum and sub-atomic levels carefully rebuilt each one in the memory of her hive’s work space.
Her excitement grew as she began to see the full scope of her find. Not just business records and accounts in this one but, this one was full of data from archaic blogs, forum records, and all the other cultural clues that set scientists like her, hands itching in anticipation. Those other records were important to the overall picture, but to read the accounts and thoughts of people who had lived so long ago were a true prize.
Maya had to school herself to patience. This could be as big as the WOW find a Decturn ago! That had set the entire civilized Sphere on its ear. Virt-world dramas based on those long ago records were still some of the most poplar in the Sphere.
She was seeing actual records of conversations here! Plus there some sort of achieves here as well. A vast one according to what her prowling bees told her. She put Qbie to begin translating the indexes as she carefully surveyed the best way to preserve the records.
A respectful chime let her know that its first efforts were completed. As expected, most were in the ancient Merican dialect, but there were some in Nglish, as well as a few in other languages! Maya felt her excitement growing as she read the first couple of lines, a fiction site! However, what kind of stories would be hosted by someplace named after a large closet?
Her confusion grew as she looked at the author list: New author, AB Zorro, Aardvark and others followed in alphabetical order. Were her translation protocols working correctly? What did people who went by such names write?
Maya impatiently waited for her busy worker bee’s to reconstruct, the title index. Peering into her Virt-Portal, scattered names of stories long lost flickered into being: For a Girl, Winter’s Night Dream, Mistress of the Rings, Lucky, and near the bottom, Unicorn’s Gift.
Unicorns? She recalled that it was a mythological creature of the ancient’s worshiped by young fems. Curious she directed her hive’s attention to that one’s recovery. A few moments later, Maya opened the very old file as Qbie still labored at reconstructing the rest of its bits and bytes.
She translated the first lines of the poem that served as its prelude.
Centurns later:
Maya basked in the attention of her peers as they celebrated the premier of the Virt-world drama. Her discovery had been bigger than even she had dreamed. Her professor and mentor had guided her, throwing in the resources of the university into the recovery of those priceless records.
Although she had read this particular story many times before, it still had the power to cause her to weep. The information hungry Sphere had been just as amazed as she at the materials hidden in that long buried vault.
Although there were meca-tons of cultural data from the Home-world, much of it was nearly incomprehensible to the modern society of the Sphere. Able to change their forms and gender at will, made the narrow-minded brittle point of view of the primitives very strange to them.
Enlightened humans mentally more flexible and adaptable had left the Home-world to seek their fortunes among the stars. After their less advanced ancestors had killed themselves off despite offers of aid, they had returned to lovingly restore their birthplace to its natural grandeur.
Maya felt a tear flow down her cheek. The power of these old stories spoke to the people of the Sphere with a rare power. This was something they could sympathize with, unlike many of the other ancient stories. That wasn’t to say there weren’t gems of wisdom among them. Nor that among this most recent trove there wasn’t those titles that was just plain out and out bizarre, but it was so unlike those other older chronicles.
Just like centurns before when she had first read those last closing words, among the hot humid remains from a long age, they once more moved her to tears.
Syna’s Song
— Aida
S.L.M.
The End
Syna’s Song from “The Unicorn’ Gift” by Sarah Lynn Morgan
Gordon did not know what to think when Dave first walked in with Simon. He had been looking forward to cooling out with the guys after yet another unpleasant week. Working temporary jobs was rarely nice, but he was still unable to find anything else. His times spent with the guys were one of the few ways he got to escape real life, if only for just a few hours.
There really was not anything wrong with Simon. He was tall, fit and anything but your typical geek. Not that Gordon or any of the rest of the gang was going hold it against him for they were a tolerant bunch after all.
The only problem with Simon was that he was trying way too hard to impress and fit in. Gordon had met others like him before and knew that they were just a little insecure and were only overcompensating. In almost every case, there was a good person hiding under that irritating persona, but he would sure be glad when Simon just relaxed at little!
Simon was from India but was going to school in the States. That was fine with the rest of the oddballs who collectively called themselves the gang. They were a mixed bag of college grads, dropouts and even a few ex-military guys like Gordon. Sometimes they did Role-Playing-Games and other times they would just hang out together. There was not even a set roster of just who was a part of the gang. It was not even all guys but just a group of people sharing common interests dropping in, as Real Life would allow them.
It was heaven for Gordon. He was having a tough time adjusting back to civilian life even though he had been lucky and had never been sent to where the fighting was going on. It was difficult for him to find work and even more so to keep it once he found it. Moving back in with his parents had not helped matters at all except with the finances.
Working odd jobs let him survive but, along with pressure from his folks, did not do anything for his quality of life or happiness. If it were not for the gang and the relief hanging with them brought, he knew he would be in bad trouble. While he had never tried to carry though with it, he had thought about suicide and had even gone so far as to plan how. Gordon was well aware of how close he stood to the black void’s edge.
He even knew the name for his pain: gender dysphoria. There were many smart folks who were still arguing about the terms and what they meant. For him it was simple, his body was male but Gordon wanted to be a woman.
If it had not been for the internet he might have gone crazy because, although he knew how he felt, he didn’t have the right vocabulary for those feelings. A bookworm since early school, one day he’d searched the internet for reading material. He was turned off by the limited selections available at the local library with their procuring process watched by the ultra-conservatives of his Bible Belt community. Adding a low income into the equation meant he was looking for something free to read.
That’s how he stumbled onto the Transgender Fiction sites. It had blown his mind that here was an entire group of people that felt the same way he did. While some of the stories were poorly written or just plain out and out bizarre, others were well written and recounted so well the way he felt.
For the first time, Gordon found others he could relate to and talk to about himself without the fear of bad things happening. He’d already had more than his share of that growing up, starting when his nosey brothers had caught him in some of his mom’s things. THAT was something he never wanted to go through again.
Since he had found TG fiction, he had even been able to indulge in one of his oldest dreams: writing. Like several others in the gang he wanted to become a writer, but he never seemed able to finish what he’d started. Now, writing about his pains and carefully hidden dreams had given him the strength to complete his stories.
Gordon was surprised when his fantastic tales were well received. Encouraged by the other Ladies online he wrote more and had even finished a novel. That work had taken an entire year and still needed to be proofed, but he had done it! What he had not done was tell his friends in the gang about his endeavors.
It was not that he thought they would freak out. The truth was he was being an absolute coward and couldn’t stand the idea that his only solace could be in jeopardy. He knew intellectually he was being unfair to them, but just couldn’t show them his works because what they would reveal about himself.
So on that early fall Saturday morning he was looking forward to hanging out with his friends and decompressing. Dave bringing Simon was an unwanted intrusion. Rather than game or just hang out, the group decided to take in the new C.S. Lewis flick at the mall. Afterwards it was always a good place to just waste time, visit the sacred and holy bookseller, game retailer, and music distributor.
By the end of the day, Gordon had to admit Simon wasn’t all that bad and, like the rest of the guys, shared a rabid interest in the future. They had solemnly confessed to each other that true Science Fiction fans watched more Discovery Channel than they ever did the cheesy and ill-conceived movies on the Sci-Fi Channel.
Simon was surprisingly knowledgeable about discoveries that only a few years ago had only been dreams but now were now becoming realities. Dave however still wanted to discuss the movie they’d just watched.
Somewhere during all of this, Gordon mentioned an old fantasy of his. “Guys, wouldn’t it be a blast to be able to sit nearby while C.S. Lewis and Tolkien were discussing their works.”
The other guys moaned because they’d heard it before, but Simon’s eyes bulged out, almost as if he were in pain.
Dave, seeking to save the conversation countered, “Or how about being at one the early Con’s where Heinlein, Clarke, or for that matter where any of the other old masters were?”
One of the other guys who’d been quiet spoke up, “What about other events that you could time travel to and witness? Wouldn‘t be great to see the original performances of Shakespeare at the Globe?”
Everyone piped up with their own idea’s of what events in history would’ve been cool to witness when Gordon thought of something, “Hey Dave, do you still have your collection of the X-Files?”
Dave rolled his eyes while mentally changing gears, “Of course I do. You know how I feel about Dana Scully!”
Rubbing his hands in pretend glee Gordon asked, “There’s that episode with a time traveler? How about we adjourn to your place for a TV night?”
Dave made a play out of considering it before he finally gave in. “All right but you all have to bring your own snacks. You guys cleaned me out last night. How about you Simon? Can you make it tonight?”
A little embarrassed at being singled out, but still with that weird look on his face, Simon replied, “Yes, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Their evening was a bit like the show that use to spoof old movies: Mystery Science Theater. The gang did the same to poor agents Mulder and Scully in a running commentary. The plot of this episode was pretty standard for the X-Files. A series of strange murders of scientists cause Mulder to jump to the conclusion that a time traveler was involved. Scully the logical investigator comes with a more reasonable theory. Mulder of course is proven right. The time traveler is trying to kill everyone who was involved in discovering time travel because discovering the truth about past events has caused disastrous effects on society.
Gordon enjoyed the give and take of ‘roasting’ the pair of FBI agents. More than once, a scene needed replaying because of their rowdiness. But it wasn’t a big deal, it just made a good time to run to the kitchen for more snacks, get a drink or take a bathroom break.
“The whole point of that episode was if you remove the mythic quality from historic events then you also take away the magic from them as well,” Dave argued after it was over.
“I disagree Dave,” Gordon replied. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression, ‘You just had to be there?’ If we had time travel, we could experience it all for ourselves. That’s what archeology is about anyway, looking for the truth behind the myths. Besides people will believe what they want to, regardless of the facts. That’s why there is still a flat earth society.”
Gordon noticed that Simon had been quiet although he was listening intensely. “How about you Simon? What do you think? Would time travel steal the heart and soul from our culture or be another tool for enriching it?”
The expression on his face at being the center of attention was so hilarious everyone lost it. His dark face blushed red, which set the gang off again. When the laughter finally died down Gordon felt a little guilty about asking.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you Simon, but really, what do you think?” Gordon asked again.
Simon paused to think about it for a second. “Well as with any tool, it can be used for positive and negative purposes. As an information gathering device it could be used to discredit some groups while strengthening the position of others. Knowing exactly what happened at various events will offer insights into what led up to them and help keep us from repeating old mistakes.”
“As for visiting artists, authors, and others as they are creating their works, it will give us insight into their creative processes and the person themselves. Knowing that individual better will give us a better appreciation for the events that drove and motivated the person to become one who left their mark upon history.”
Everyone was quiet just before Dave burst out with, “Dude you had us going! You’ve got your tenses mixed-up! Time travel isn’t real you know!”
The gang gave Simon a hard time for a bit before they moved over to another victim. The conversation went on back and forth for while until Dave found a favorite episode of his and started the DVD playing.
Gordon knew it was time for him to make tracks because, if he got home too late, he could count on hearing about it the next day from his parents. There was something he wanted to do first.
He gestured to Simon who still seemed as if he was trying to memorize everything said. With the ‘who me’ look that Simon gave him, Gordon couldn’t help but smile back when he nodded “Yes.”
“Hey, Simon sorry about putting you on the spot back there,” Gordon told him while reaching for his jacket. “The gang can be a little rough sometimes but they’re really good hearted.”
“That is okay Gordon. I understand I am new and so must be initiated. Maybe I can read some of your writings next time,” Simon asked with a nervous smile.
Gordon felt a dismal lump splashed deep down in his guts, “Writings? Who told you about that?”
Taken aback Simon replied, “I think someone mentioned that you and some of the others were writers. Did I misunderstand?”
Gordon breathed a little easier. “Oh yeah, I want to write. But I’m not a writer yet. When I actually come up something worth reading I’ll be sure and show you, deal?”
Simon smiled as if offered the chance to read some masterpiece, “Yes that would be wonderful, thank you!”
After waving goodbye to the gang and heading out into the chilly Southern winter evening, he reflected that Simon was an okay kind of person. Sighing, it’ll be nice when his English improves some. Those mistakes in his speech would drive Gordon’s overactive imagination and paranoia nuts!
In the following weeks, Simon became a regular fixture with gang and Gordon had to admit he was a good addition. He did seem to observe more than participate. However when he had something to say, it was always worth hearing. Perhaps the only thing that drove Gordon to distraction was Simon’s interest in what he was writing. Out of self-defense, Gordon did talk about some of his non-TG stuff and that seemed to make his new friend from India happy.
Meanwhile, he thought about trying his hand at something a little different. Some of his favorite authors online were posting excellent stories that tried to explain to the normal world what being TG was and how it felt. His own tales were based on the private stories he’d fantasized about since he’d first sensed his differences. They were mostly about wish-fulfillment using magic or science fiction as plot devices.
They were not the first to try and give the “normal” world an explanation of the unexplainable. Cynically he’d decided that Quantum Mechanics and being Transgendered had lot in common. You had to be crazy to understand the counterintuitive approach or it would drive you nuts trying to grasp the insane concepts. The end result was the same, lunacy.
He was still considering how to approach this new story when the holidays rushed up. He worked a little more regularly now after getting a job with a retailer, restocking after-hours. This made his parents happier but left little time for writing.
Before he knew it, Christmas was upon them and it was time for the gang’s annual holiday get together. Being busy, his escapes with the gang were even more of a must to help him deal with the stresses. In the past, he’d had a reputation for giving thoughtful gifts. He put a lot of himself into it and there was nothing like the delighted surprise of someone opening one of his gifts to give him the warm and fuzzies.
This year they had an excellent turnout and everyone was having a great time. Simon announced the sad news that, because of family problems, he would return to India in a few days. However, even that didn’t dampen the festivities, although it did give them a poignant note, and made the gang determined to give Simon a happy send-off. It always hurt to make friends and then have them leave. They always claimed they would stay in touch but very rarely did so. The whole thing put Gordon into a melancholy mood in spite of the merry making.
All too soon, it was time for Gordon to leave, having church in the morning. The rest of the crew urged him to stay just a little longer but, as much as Gordon was tempted, he knew that keeping the uneasy peace with his parents was more important.
Simon followed Gordon out to his car. With a smile, he presented a gift about the size of a thick paperback book to Gordon.
“This is for you my friend. I know you must be wondering why I waited until after the party. The reasons why are in the card. It is for you and you alone. Please promise me two things?” Simon asked mysteriously.
Gordon a little baffled nodded, “Sure. Okay. I can do that.”
Still smiling, his teeth white in his dark face, Simon earnestly told him, “First you must open and read the card, but you must wait for Christmas. Open the gift only when you are sure you will have complete privacy. Second, believe what you read and see. If this was to be a gag gift then you would have received it inside to share the mirth with our friends, deal?”
“Sure, Simon I can do that,” Gordon replied a little confused at the requests.
“Good! One more thing my friend, please continue to write, no matter what! I for one believe that anyone can change the world! I know we will never see each other again and that saddens my heart. Good-bye Gordon.” Simon choked out and embraced him.
Surprised and afraid someone might see them Gordon stiffened, then realized the truth of Simon’s goodbye and hugged him back furiously.
“Good-bye Simon my friend,” he said, tears in his eyes.
The last Gordon saw of Simon was his car’s taillights disappearing into the chilly Southern night.
On his own way home, he wondered about Simon’s rather strange way of giving a Christmas gift. Arriving, he saw the lights go out when he turned in the drive, a sure indicator his mother had stayed up waiting for him again. If he could, he would move out in a heartbeat, but working intermittently didn’t give him that option. They just didn’t understand his problems and expected him to be like his brothers. Robert finished law school this year and was ready to take the bar exam. Joe had purchased his own long-haul tractor and was a successful owner-operator. While each had taken very different paths, his parents regarded each as a success. They did not think so of him.
Right now, it was even worse. Both brothers and their families were visiting for the holidays. Everyone just had to rub it in about his employment woes.
Gordon was careful about keeping his secret from his family, given how they’d treated him growing up. His brothers had snooped on and tormented him while he’d been struggling to deal with his feelings and desires. Physical violence had been strictly forbidden by their parents but hadn’t been necessary. Rob and Joe were quite adept at using embarrassment and humiliation against him.
Simon’s warning about keeping his gift confidential made Gordon mindful of past transgressions. After locking Simon’s gift up with his other important papers in his fire-safe, he turned to other things they could find. He did have a few pieces of feminine clothing but those didn’t concern him as much as his scribbles on the computer.
He checked his emails and decided to back everything up on his flash-drive just in case. Furthermore, he turned on his password protection and other security he had not used since his Army days. He hadn’t felt the need with only his parents around, they being computer illiterate. His brothers were another story altogether. With his precautions done he fell onto his bed, letting sleep claim him.
The next few days were hectic ones with the entire family attending church Sunday, and Monday being Christmas Eve. He did have to work Sunday night restocking and all-day Monday doing general assistance, but mindful of his distrust of his brothers, he made sure he took his flash-drive with him. His reunion with them made it painfully obvious that they were still as unpleasant as ever. Okay he would admit that Robert had mellowed out some, but Joe the truck driver seemed determine to make up for any testosterone-fueled macho-idiocy the lawyer-to-be had lost.
No matter he’d half expected it, when he got home and saw his brother Joe grinning he knew they had violated his privacy. Checking his room, he saw that someone had been there. They hadn’t even bothered to turn off the monitor after locking up his computer with wrong passwords.
Looking to see what else had been disturbed he found his collection of feminine articles from the back of his closet, removed and tossed on the floor. His face burned with anger and Gordon wanted nothing more to demonstrate to tough-guy Joe that he wouldn’t stand for being bullied anymore. However, unlike his brother, he thought about the consequences. If they fought, it would ruin Christmas for everyone and, as always, he would be blamed. He felt his tears well up and, after wedging a chair against the door to ensure at least a little privacy, he threw himself on his bed, burying his sobs in his pillows.
He heard the snickers outside in the hallway where his brothers took delight in his misery. The doorknob moved when they half-attempted to come in but the chair held. Failing, they eventually tired of their game and left. Exhausted by the pain within his heart and the day’s work he fell asleep.
His mom did wake him with her knocking upon his door and letting him know about dinner. Gordon, not wanting to make a scene during the holiday told her he was tired and not feeling well. All he needed, he told her, was some rest. He assured her he would eat something later.
Gordon could tell she knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but was willing to leave it be for now. Of all of his family, she was the closest to understanding he was different. But, with her rural conservative background, she didn’t understand. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t force the issue. Gordon resolutely refused to show his face to his hoodlum brothers and show them how much their invasion of his privacy hurt. However, he knew he would have to make an appearance for the family’s traditional Christmas breakfast.
He took a shower and spent the rest of Christmas Eve surfing the net, chatting on the TG communities with whoever, like himself, was alone this year. Shortly after looking up and seeing it was past midnight and technically Christmas, he thought about Simon’s gift.
His friend had asked that he wait until Christmas and now it was. Simon had also requested he open it in privacy and, since the door was locked, he figured that qualification was also met. He retrieved the paperback-sized box and set it next to his keyboard. It was wrapped in bright green metallic holiday paper with Christmas tree watermarks and tied with a shiny red ribbon topped bow. Even having been stuffed into his fire-safe hadn’t crushed the colorful poinsettia like bow.
Simon had said something about a card but Gordon didn’t see one attached to it. For that matter there wasn’t an easily-visible way to open the darn thing. There was a pair of curly ribbons that came out from under the flower bow. When he pulled them, the entire bow suddenly collapsed into a single red ribbon!
“Whoa!” he exclaimed pushing himself backwards, surprised. Blinking his eyes, Gordon examined the metallic red ribbon. It didn’t even have a crease along its length, despite having been wrapped for at least a couple days. It had a springy feel to it and that made him wonder. The stretchy material gave him an idea.
Gordon took the ribbon to re-tie it on the box. After he got the decoration around all four sides and brought it together to tie the bow, he felt tension in the red strip. Upon release, the ribbon snapped as if it were elastic, back into its original poinsettia flower decoration!
Eyes wide, he stared at the multi-folded ribbon still slightly bouncing from its release from his fingers. Where in hell had Simon gotten this? If anything like this were commercially available, they would’ve been selling the blue blazes out of it, but he had never seen or heard of decorations like this.
Taking a deep breath, Gordon pulled on the curly ribbons and once more it neatly untied itself. He picked up the present and saw, revealed by his removing the decorative trimming, a pull-tab like seam.
Not sure what was about to happen, he tugged on the paper tab. As with the ribbon, the green wrapping paper did the work itself, releasing the box it had covered, reshaping and folding itself into a card.
The box looked like some kind of woman’s beauty product, but the card lying there, in theory, promised an answer to Simon’s growing list of questions. Opening it, he could see Simon’s neat handwriting inside and a pre-paid debit card.
Dear Gordon,
Holiday greetings my dear friend! I am going to reveal some amazing things that you will either believe or you will not. I have read all of your stories that you have posted and have enjoyed them all. Know that I am aware of your gender dysphoria and feel great sorrow at your plight and that of others like you. I know that the next few years of your life will be full of challenges, but you will overcome them and become the person you were always meant to be.
I know these things, for I am not from India, but from the future. I am a time traveler. More accurately, I am a graduate student who is part of a special program studying the literature of your time period. Back when I first joined your social grouping, I nearly fainted when you revealed your desire to travel back in time to listen to your favorite authors discuss their works, for that was precisely what I was doing.
There lies my quandry my dear friend. It is one thing to discuss someone’s life and writings in the comfortable academic atmosphere of the University, but quite another to speak to them as they struggle daily with terrible aches of the heart. I thought I was prepared for what I would find here because of the special classes and training I had to take to be able to qualify for the program.
I was not. After having met you and the others I could not help but be moved. Thus, I contemplated the prohibited. You see, in my time science has solved the dilemma that plagues you. The anguish of being in the wrong form and shape in my world is so simple to cure we use what you call an over-the-counter remedy.
One of those is my gift to you. The races of man have interbred until pure genotypes like those from your era are rare. For variety’s sake, many use products like my gift much as those of your time would change their hair color. I used the most common description of the main characters of your stories to select what I hope is closest to your inner self-image. I took the precaution of re-packaging it so the directions would be clear and concise.
Ah, I can hear your questions now my friend. Yes, the use of my gift will indeed transform you into the image on the front of the box. It is a permanent change unless the “deactivator” is used. Like most consumer products from my time, it is, as you would say, “green” and so flushing the “deactivator” is environmentally safe if you want to remove that option.
Again, the answer is yes. You will be a female in all ways including the ability to bear children. Your fingerprints will still be the same and your DNA is still identifiable as yours because those are necessary safeguards my time uses to prevent criminal misuse.
As to whether giving this to you will cause me problems, the answer is again, yes. The timeline will have been altered, which is against the rules I agreed to abide by. No, the universe will not end. Neither will I, or the world I know, disappear. The worse that will happen is this timeline will split off into its own parallel stream. That will make it difficult to visit this time period from mine because of the disturbance. The people who run the service will not be pleased with me, but I am not repentant.
Be happy with your new life my friend. I have transferred some of my operating funds onto a pre-paid debit card to help you. All I ask is that you remain true to yourself and follow your heart.
Your friend
Simon
Gordon pushed his chair back with a disbelieving shove. It was too much. Simon knew about him and his stories? Not from India, but a time traveler? A gift that could transform him?
He hadn’t taken any real precautions to prevent anyone from finding out who was writing his stories online, so someone finding out who he was for real wouldn’t be very hard. Additionally he’d heard India had a cultural niche for those who were transgendered. Maybe not a very nice one, but a type of acceptance. “See” he told himself. “A nice safe real-world explanation. Agent Scully would be proud.”
Except Simon had asked him to believe.
Gordon eyed the colorful box upon his desk with a heart-stopping shiver. If the note were true, that box held all of his most wonderful dreams and darkest nightmares. It wasn’t enough for him to be able to reveal the woman within his soul; he…, she had to be accepted as that person.
To have a miracle transformation, like out of one of his stories, would make many things easier, but without the favorable reception by his family and others whom he loved and respected it still would hurt terribly.
“Who am I kidding?” Gordon wondered. He’d never even taken a feminine pseudonym online. It was one thing to say he was transgendered, but another to re-label himself. He who was so afraid of anything that would give away his fragile secret.
This was all just so impossible. Besides, why would any student of literature of any time period want to study him, the gang or the Ladies online? Gordon didn’t fool himself that what he wrote was anything more than wish fulfillment. Even though a dear online friend had often told him differently, he’d had doubts anyone would ever want to pay for anything he’d written.
The Ladies online had written some wonderful works, but truthfully, the subject matter was too far out there for mainstream culture to digest. A few had sold some of their stuff, but was that enough to justify studying the entire community, much less him? Some of the gang were very talented and some of their conversations were very memorable. The thing was, few of them had yet written much of anything.
Gordon held his head in his hands. If this was true, opportunity had not come knocking, it had blown the door right off the hinges. Time to put up or shut up. He knew, and had always known in his heart, what he wanted more than anything in this world or the next. All he needed was the courage to reach for it.
With trembling fingers he picked up his gift. “MISS CLAIRVON Celtic Lass” was boldly emblazoned on the front. A beautiful young woman with a full head of fiery red hair was smiling coyly from the best holographic picture he’d ever seen. No matter how he turned the box, her green eyes seemed to follow his.
The gift-wrap, card, and this box were convincing evidence of the truth of Simon’s tale.
Turning the box over, he found the instructions and began to read.
Simon stretched restlessly. He knew the Temporal Patrol would notice the splitting timeline. Before they came for him, he had to see Gordon one last time. He didn’t dare go to her in person but relied instead on the network of sensors that he had emplaced weeks before when he’d begun his study. Part of that study had been the copying Gordon’s first novel from his computer
Simon had shut down every sensor in Gordon’s room after his friend had opened the gift. He’d wanted to take no chances of any recordings of his friend’s transformation reaching his own time. Feeling enough like a voyeur already, Simon decided that Gordon deserved privacy for this most personal of times. Therefore, despite the temptation, he ordered the sensors to self-destruct without a trace — as designed.
All he had left were the roving ones in the hallway and family room. Haggard, he checked the time remaining before morning. Gordon’s family traditionally gathered together Christmas morning. The younger children of Gordon’s brothers were already awake and were pulling their sleepy parents from their beds.
It was only a matter of time before the Temporal Police managed to work its way past the disturbance of the dividing streams. Gordon’s mother had knocked on her son’s door to rouse him, but Simon knew despair when his equipment buzzed with the unmistakable signs of an incoming Temporal transfer.
Panicked he looked to his surveillance gear but Gordon hadn’t yet appeared.
Behind him a deep male voice announced, “Simon Suilman Chang you are charged under Section 641; with intent and with forethought of causing a major temporal disturbance.
Defeated, he turned to face the two large men. Although dressed casually for this time period, it was clear they represented Authority. One had the small gray square of a neural over-rider, known as a “Come-along”, in his ham sized fist while his eyes asked the non-verbal question of whether there would be trouble.
The other time-cop, just as intimidating, stood ready, but Simon heard an alert from his surveillance rover. He turned and almost immediately felt a large hand twist his arm behind him. Simon ignored it all, for there she was.
Gordon had stepped from her room wearing a dress from her feminine wardrobe. It did not fit very well, but her eyes caught Simon’s heart. They were so full of emotion they sparkled like emeralds. Her face was still recognizable as Gordon’s for the nature of the transformation used her own genes. She was beautiful.
“Aw Felgercarb,” the time-cop restraining his arm cursed. “Look at his face Jack. He’s fallen in love with her.”
The other slipped the neural over-rider onto Simon’s temple and sighed. “It happens, Barton.”
Addressing Simon, “Your retrieving her “lost novel” was well done and made your reputation. But you had to screw up the stream. That’ll make any other studies in this era difficult. Your training warned you of the dangers of close contact. You’ll never be allowed back into the university’s temporal research program again with this in your records.”
Simon hardly heard a word as he watched Gordon make her entrance. He couldn’t hear her words but knew they were being faithfully recorded on his personal network. Her flabbergasted family gaped as she made her statement and with a dignity that the old Gordon lacked, took a seat.
Unwillingly, Simon was pulled from the display as the ‘come-along’ made him follow the time-cops to the center of the room for the return to his own century.
He’d known the repercussions of his actions for himself but had worried about how Gordon would fare. His last glance showed her facing her family with a strength that history said she’d only exhibited later in life. As the 21st century began to fade about him, a roving sensor captured one last picture of her smiling. Then Simon knew she would be well.
Terran Encyclopedia 25th edition:
Scholars have long debated the identity of the mysterious individual known as Simon, to whom every one of Jordyn Brigham’s books is dedicated. Records of that era do not give any insight as to his identity. Temporal abnormalities in this era, which complicate further research, make it unlikely his identity will ever be determined. The Dedications all read, “To my dear friend Simon.”
Happy Holidays!
He looked down at his sleeping daughter, Grace, amazed at the peace glowing softy on her face.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional As always my thanks goes out to Holly for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Paula who for some reason puts up me and my insane ranting about story ideas, Thanks Love! Any errors, or mistakes are mine alone so with that in mind, enjoy!
Robert softly opened the bedroom door. He looked down at his sleeping daughter, Grace, amazed at the peace glowing softy on her face. They’d both been though so much in the last year; his divorce from Patricia’s; their being ostracized by their church; the turmoil at Grace’s school. But all of this had begun a few short years before, when his daughter had been his son Mark.
Neither he nor his wife Patricia had known what to think when Mark had dropped his bomb on them. What had impressed Robert was the impassioned plea his son had made asking to see a doctor specializing in gender ‘difficulties.’
A part of him had felt guilty because of all the long hours he’d spent at work, and he’d wondered if Mark’s problems were due to his not spending enough time at home. At least that job did ensure that if Mark needed medical attention he would be able to afford it.
Patricia had taken Mark’s request much harder, saying he was only going though a phase and seeking attention. Robert hadn’t believed that at all, although he’d wondered about her sometimes. Well, He did think from time to time that he and Mark were nothing more than trophies and tools for her status seeking socialite ambitions. Certainly his position at the local plant and past sports prowess helped her with that, but Mark had never been the athletic type even though he’d always been an smart kid.
In the end, Patricia had agreed, believing the psychologist would only confirmed her amateur diagnosis. While he’d been mildly surprised at the Doctor’s analysis, Patricia had been out right shocked. She’d been more concerned what her friends would think, than with their child’s well being.
It was the Doctor revealing the trials and heartaches those like Mark go though in life that convinced him that Mark should receive treatment. Just the statistics regarding suicide was enough to give him ulcers. Patricia reluctantly went along.
At first, treatment consisted only of visits to the doctor, but later progressed to hormone blockers when they became convinced Mark was a transsexual and might need transition.
Robert marveled he had grown closer to his daughter then he ever had his son. He was saddened it had taken something like this to awaken him to needs of his family, and it grieved him that in many ways it’d been too late.
Patricia had always been more active in their church than he, and when word got out about Mark, things got bad. He’d always known she cared more about what others thought than was healthy, but things really didn’t start going down hill until Mark started presenting as Grace.
Mark had known from the beginning that his mom was having problems with all that was going on. When she began her transition, she took the name Grace from her maternal grandmother, in a attempt to reach her mother. Like Robert had said before, a smart kid.
He guessed he shouldn’t been surprised when members of the church congregation began objecting to Grace’s transition, or when Patricia began to cave in to their peer pressure, it’d been his own research, and witnessing how much happier his child was now that made him certain it was the right thing for Grace to continue.
The entire mess dissolved into chaos when Patricia sued for divorce and custody of their only child. Grace had changed schools when she began her transition, but word had gotten out anyway. That had been, to say the least, a stressful experience for them.
The divorce had been as nasty and unpleasant as such things tend to be, but poor Grace had been caught in the middle of it all, even more so than children usually are in such affairs.
In the end, the courts had awarded him sole custody after Patricia had stated in rather impolite terms her intention of stopping Grace’s transition and treatment. Thankfully, his attorney had maneuvered for the right judge, and the testimony of not one, but three experts in gender related medical problems and issues had done the job.
There’d been just so much pain for the two of them, but at last the legal battles were over. Tomorrow both he and his daughter would begin their move to a new home and future.
Putting aside his wool gathering and looking at his sleeping child, he knew it had all been worth it. He carefully shut her door, not wanting to disturb the peace and sweet dreams she’d found in sleep, whispering tenderly to her, “Goodnight Grace.”
Hello there! I’m glad that you are here. This story is based on twenty some-odd years of playing, and eventually game-mastering, role-playing-games such as “Dungeons and Dragons”, just to mention the most widely known.
The characters and players mentioned here have had their names changed to protect the guilty and above all, for privacy. The story was not written for profit, but for fun and as therapy for the afflicted. I, the author, reserve all rights for posting and publishing this work, and will accept the credits due, as well as the blame.
If any of the players and friends from whom I have shamelessly stolen dialogue and great ideas read this, know that you are thanked for the great times we had while playing, and if your character has been changed or misrepresented here, it is all my fault!
This is a mosaic work, the result of ideas that fermented in my Id.
“Heroes of Justice” is NOT a game being published by anyone to the best of my knowledge. It and this world is a imaginary title to prevent anyone and/or company from being offended or God forbid, deciding it is copy-right infringement. Remember this is fiction! Violence, sex and trans-gendered themes are represented in this story, so if you are not an adult or would be offended by such material, do NOT read any further.
Any resemblance to characters living, dead, in hibernation or otherwise is pure speculation. I want to offer a big thanks to all of those TG authors who write of heroes and fantasy, and keep the rest of us walking-wounded up and about with their great stories. I am talking about Maggie Finson, EE Nalley, Bob Arnold and many others from the “Whateley Academy”, “Belle of the Ball”, “Masked Marvels-Lady Lightning”, “Zapped!” and other stories, that keep me up nights waiting for them to post. One last thanks to John in that place that begins with the “W”, that I can’t pronounce, who unknown to him, read my first clumsy story. Warning: As it leaves my hands, the following story has bad grammar and misspelled words and other unspeakable horrors. My faithful group of editors have worked tirelessly, not to mention for free, to correct my mistakes. Any remaining errors are mine. I hope that this will satisfy those, we in the gaming hobby call Rules-Lawyers! Now as they say, “On with the Show!”
Super-Hero Gaming Terms:
Brick: Very tough, very strong, but slow characters. For example, think of the big green or rocky orange guy.
Fast-Brick: Not as strong but still tough characters. These guys are faster than pure bricks, usually with some other power such as flight or web-swinging. For example, that’s right, the guy in the bug-eyed red and blue costume. or the half-machine guy from that teen-T something show.
Mentalist: Telepathy, mind control, illusions, and brain blasts are what these guys do. For example, you got it! The bald guy in the wheelchair or the red haired babe from the same movie!
Slasher: Tough and fast, normally with something sharp and pointy as weapons. For example, the vampire slayer guy with the sword and that poor fellow with the three razors in each of his hands.
Blaster: No matter if they use thorns, water, fire or glowing green bolts of energy, they blast stuff. For example, Yeah, that star-chick from that Teen-T something show and that guy with the red glasses/visor from those Whatever-MEN movies. (Hey the first two movies were good, it’s too bad about the third one. (Sigh)
Martial Artist: Kung-fu, karate, or akido, they are the masters of hand to hand mayhem. For example, the bat-guy and all of Jet-Li’s excellent movies show what these guys can do!
Gadgeteers: Where do they get all those nifty toys? No matter if it's a gun or boomerang, gadgeteers have the right tool for every job. From utility belts to custom hotrods, they have it all. For example: Oh come on! Do you really need an example for this one?
Heroes of Justice: The exciting origin!
Prologue: The call-around
Wednesday November 1, 2006
I was in the middle of a video game of 'Demon Slaughter' when the phone rang. It was cool though, because I was back in the town of Ishtar selling the accumulated treasure of all the baddies I’d killed and looted. I hate being interrupted while in combat, but while it was a drag to have to keep “Porting” to town to empty out my “Backpack”, it was always a good time to break for snacks.
I picked up the phone and headed for the fridge, “Hello?”
“Hey! What’s going on man? This is Mike.”
Mike was one the guys I played role-playing games with on the weekends, but we hadn’t gamed in a while because of ‘Real-Life’. “Hey, Mike! Every thing’s cool here! I just hit the tombs in 'Demon Slaughter!' Speaking of which, when are you running the next game?”
“Yo dude, that is a tough level,” Mike said, then, paused a second, “As for my next game, have you heard of 'Heroes of Justice'?”
'Heroes of Justice' was a newer super-hero role playing game that I’d seen at the ‘Cosmic Forge’, the local game and comic-book store, but seeing how it cost nearly a hundred bucks plus change, I hadn’t picked it up yet. It was on the “to buy” wish list though. “Yeah Mike, it looks pretty good, but I haven’t had a chance to buy it.”
“You don’t have to have the book to play, because you can build your character for free, on-line,” he said. “They even have a graphics program, so you can make and print a picture of what your character looks like. Can you make it to ‘Cosmic Forge’ Saturday at one PM?”
I juggled a glass of milk and some double-chocolate chip cookies, while reaching the pen and paper kept on the fridge. Hey, sue me! I’m a traditionalist. I like cookies and milk!
I wrote down the web site for ‘Heroes of Justice’ and the time for the game. “What kind of characters are you looking for on this one?” I asked him.
“You remember those characters you and Danny had for Morgan’s game, Mystery and Esper-anza? I want you to convert Mystery over to 'Heroes' and use her. I’ve already talked to Danny and he’s in. Are you still interested?” Mike asked.
Wow, boy was I in! Mystery was a female fast brick character that I had that I played in a game with Danny, one of my gamer buds, who was running another female named Esper-anza. She was a mentalist and telekinesis artist. Our characters’ concepts changed after we started play, and they became sort of “Pretty Woman” like strippers with the hearts of gold. I think Danny’s Esper-anza was inspired by that show, “Stripperella” that was on MTV a few years ago, but with mental powers.
Our characters had hit it off together, and we had a great time playing off each other. Chuck, who works at ‘Cosmic Forge’, had been watching us play. ‘Cosmic Forge’ is great because it has an open gaming area. Well, anyway, while Chuck was watching us, he put Cindy Lauper’s “Girls just want to have fun” on the Muzak. That just broke everyone up! Poor Morgan’s game was forever known as the “Girls just want to have fun” game. I don’t think he minded, for he was having just as much fun as we were.
“Sure thing, Mike, I’m in with bells on! Who else do you have playing?”
“Weelll,” he drawled teasingly, “Morgan’s gonna play Lady Diamond.”
“Noo!!?” I exclaimed in disbelief, “Morgan GM’s so much he hardly ever gets to play, but isn’t Lady Diamond that cross-dresser Blaster character of his? I know that he’d been saying that SHE would be an interesting addition to the girls, but we are playing at ‘Cosmic Forge’. You know Pete and Chuck want the gaming to stay PG rated, because of the kids and ’rents coming in. Can’t chase away customers, you know!”
“Not a problem, my friend,” Mike smoothed over, “Nothing is going to happen at the Forge that’s going to chase customers away. I also have Mark playing Wolfen, and Tom is going to be using Streeter. Lastly, Will’s going to bring Renegade out of retirement for this one. So, what do you think?”
“What do I think?” I my voice was edged with suspicion, “I think we’re going to be the only ones playing this weekend, because you’ve hi-jacked all of the GMs. Just how did you go about accomplishing that not so minor miracle?”
Wolfen was a were-wolf/Slasher character that fellow GM, Mark, played, and Streeter was a Martial Artist, speedster with some Mentalist powers somewhat like the old Shadow.
Renegade, was an American Indian tough, tough Brick character of Will’s that had been around for a long time. Will played him with such panache that GM’s couldn’t turn him down when he asked to play Renegade. Will finally had to retired the character, though not without some regret. He'd just accumulated so much experience it had become unfair to the rest of the players. You know you are just pretending, when you play RPG’s, but sometimes the characters you play resonate within yourself. It can be hard sometimes to put that character up, but at the same time, the game lets you vent things safely and have fun at the same time.
Every single one of the players that Mike had showing up Saturday were also Game-Masters. Yes, even me. I hadn’t GM’ed in a while because of Real-Life, so I was between gigs. Morgan, Mark, and Mike were the “Three M’s” we called them. Between them and Tom, they ran most of the games around here.
If there is one truth in the gaming hobby, it is that there are never enough good Game-Masters. No one enjoys a good game like a Game-Master does. Often the GM ends up running games that he would like very much to play in himself, and ends up doing a HUGE amount of unpaid work.
When you add up the research, developing the cast of NPCs (Non-Player-Characters), call-arounds to set up a meeting time/place and set-up/reserving of a playing area, you’ve done a lot of work. Players can come and go, but without a GM willing to put forth the work to set-up a good story, there isn’t a game.
Like anyone who works hard at something, there is no greater praise than what you get from your fellow GM’s. It is a challenge GM’ing for them, for they are the toughest audience, but well worth it because they really want to be there, and want to make the most of their playing time. Saturday was shaping up to be one heck of a good game day!
Mike playing modest filled me in on why so many GMs were available. “Mark and Tom had to postpone their games because most of their players have mid-terms coming up. Will’s Fantasy game ended two weeks ago, and he is still working on a Sci-Fi Pirates campaign, and Morgan killed off most of his player’s characters when one of them set off a nuke he was trying to disarm. No miracles just the draw of the cards. Their loss is our gain!
“I’ve got to go, because I have to call Chuck and make sure we have a table. Just make sure you keep your disadvantages for DNPC’s (dependent non-player characters) and hunteds low. You guys are going to have enough trouble without borrowing it from someone else. See ya’,” and Mike disconnected.
I put my snacks down and clicked my mouse to save my 'Demon Slaughter' game. I opened up the web site for ‘Heroes of Justice’, and was dazzled by the cool art work and well laid out web-site. There was a user agreement, and I actually read it. You had to agree with the terms to use the character builder. No problem.
I thought that it was a cute touch to end it with “Do you agree to use your powers in the cause of justice and to help others in the multi-verse fight evil and right wrongs?” Chuckling aloud, I clicked “YES, I agree” and started copying Mystery’s character statistics from her previous system to this new one.
Like other systems, ‘Heroes of Justice’ used a point system to build characters. You got extra points for taking disadvantages that limited your character in some way. DNPCs were people that your character cared for and were always rescuing for one reason or another, and hunteds were bad guys who were actively looking to hurt YOU!
Mike had said he wanted us to avoid use of DNPCs and hunteds. That was fine with me. It’s a lot more fun interacting with the other players, rather than the GM’s NPCs (non-player characters).
I was impressed. For a new game, there I didn’t spot any problems, and it was easy to convert Mystery. The graphics program was so easy to use it was almost like it was reading my mind. I got exactly what I thought Mystery looked like. WOW! Was she hot! I guessed they must have really sharp graphics programmers for ‘Heroes of Justice’.
Chapter 1: The Gathering!
Man, did the rest of the week drag! I was so eager to play that I actually arrived at Cosmic Forge early, rather than my usual ten minutes late. I wanted to pick up some new dice anyway, and browse the new game books.
None of recent game releases impressed me, except for the 'Heroes of Justice' book, but it was still a hundred bucks and I just couldn’t afford it. I did pick up some new dice, for you can’t have enough dice, Ooo Sparklies!
While, Chuck cheerfully rang up my purchase, I noticed the shop’s owner was giving me the evil eye again. Pete was a bit homophobic, and seemed to think my predilection for playing female characters was a sure sign I was gay.
I wasn’t going to bother trying to correct him, because he wouldn’t understand anyway. Not many understand the difference between transgender and homosexual. Yep, I was transgendered. Not so much that I wanted SRS to become a woman, but enough, that I needed the release I got from role-playing one.
It was generally okay to play a character with a different gender from the one you were born with. Role-players love to stretch themselves and playing a different gender was the ultimate test of your skill. Since so few women play RPG’s, it was more or less acceptable for me to play mostly female characters. Except for a few like Pete, no one raised an eyebrow. As long as everyone had a good time playing, ‘whatever floats your boat’ was the rule of thumb.
I got a Mountain Dew from the soda machine and went over to the open table gaming area known as our multidimensional refuge from Real Life and settled back to wait for everyone else to arrive. I knew as long as I was a paying customer, Pete wouldn’t say anything. No matter what he believed, he wouldn’t let it interfere with the profit margin. It wasn’t a long wait, because everyone showed early. This was definitely was going to be a good game day! There were a lot grins and Chuck got a big laugh when he waved his Cindy Lauper CD at us.
Mike set-up his GM screen and laptop while everyone else was catching up on old times. He was a big dark haired man who looked like a huge, hairy, teddy bear. With the big paws he had you would never guess he worked as an electronics technician.
Tom, a slight, blond guy, was talking animatedly to Mark, a stocky bald black man. Hyper-active Tom was an auto mechanic, while the very easy going Mark was an aircraft sheet-metal tech. I saw Will over across the store looking at the “Heroes of Justice” game book, obviously considering buying it. He was a short blond fireplug who worked as a forklift operator at a warehouse. He bought in pretty good money, so he could afford it.
Morgan and Danny were at the soda machine stocking up on caffeine. Morgan was a skinny, sandy haired paramedic, while tall African-Asian Danny was a male nurse at Regional Memorial Hospital. Danny was another one of those Pete didn’t care for, because of his prejudice. Danny, like me, played almost exclusively female characters.
I wasn’t sure if Danny was transgendered or not, but I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t gay, bi perhaps. He always had a beautiful nurse as a date after the game. For some it might have been camouflage, but not I think, for Danny. He caught so much flak because he was a male nurse that being gay wouldn’t faze him. He’d just say, ‘So?’
What can I say about Morgan? He was one of those scary, smart dudes you run into sometimes. You know, the sort with an eidetic memory, perfect pitch, and a very high IQ. His one failing was that without his glasses, he was nearly blind. Sometimes Morgan liked messing with people’s minds. He just couldn’t abide fools, and it sometimes got him into trouble.
“Hi Greg,” he greeted when I came up to him. “Still looking for work? One of the medical supply houses is looking for help.”
“Always, it seems,” I told Morgan as we did our secret handshake. The handshake was another of those in jokes we used, because we were both ex-soldiers. He’d been a medic and I had spent my time as an intelligence specialist. I high-fived Danny, saying, “If it’s Bells, I placed an application there Monday.”
Yep, that’s me, Greg, an auburn haired male built from good, sturdy Scottish peasant stock. My knuckles don’t quite drag the ground, just almost. I am going to school for my associate of arts degree, but the GI Bill doesn’t cover everything, so I have to work my way through school.
Mike called everyone over to the game area after he'd had a chance to look over our character sheets so we could begin. Armed with our new purchases of dice, game-books and elixir of the gods, caffeine, we all sat down and pulled out our character sheets. There was a round of congratulations over the character graphics from “Heroes of Justice” as they all looked really good.
There were a lot of ‘ooos and aaahs’ as we passed them around so everyone could see. They weren’t photo-realistic, but were pretty dog-gone good. Mike took out the CDROM that came with the game and inserted it in his laptop with a flourish. That was the hook of “Hero’s of Justice”.
It came with not just a computer gaming aid, but almost a play-along program. Prior to the game, the GM would select where the action would take place, and in what order. Then the program would provide visuals and maps that made game preparation much easier. It was an attempt to bridge the gap between paper and pencil games with the video and on-line games.
“I hope this works,” Mike told everyone. At everyone’s puzzled looks, he continued, “I wanted to see what the visuals looked like, so I tried to start the program last night, and it sorta messed with my mind. It kept giving the message “When your players are assembled, press enter” and when I did, it flashed red and said “No really, when your players are assembled, press enter!”
The group gave a chuckle, which Mike joined. We all liked the tongue in cheek humor, the better games had. Mike reached up to scratch his balding head with a ham sized hand, and after a bit of thought, said, “I don’t know how it knew that it was just me being curious, but I hope this works.”
Mike deftly clicked his way to his saved campaign files and reached the screen he had told us about: “When your players are assembled press enter.”
Mike said, “Well, the players are assembled, so here goes nothing,” and pressed the ‘enter’ key. He turned the screen around so we could all see, while we waited anxiously.
I and the rest of the guys relaxed, when the logo for 'Heroes of Justice' appeared and it read, “Welcome, Brave Heroes, to the fight for justice!” Then some cool animated sequences appeared of some bad type heavies causing mayhem in a city called New Riverside. A mysterious master-mind was organizing the super-villains into a crime syndicate, and any villain who didn’t want to join had the choice of leaving town or going to the morgue.
The local super-team, the Riverside Warders, were being overwhelmed by the violent combat between the syndicate and the super-villain holdouts. A cryptic figure known only as Horus tasked us with identifying the syndicate leader and stopping this criminal origination before it became unstoppable.
Our characters have come from different cities and are unknown here in New Riverside, so we could easily go undercover. We had a few days to get to know each other because most of us had never worked together before, but the situation is too desperate to have time to train together properly as a team.
We were all ginning at each other, because this was really sharp looking. Chuck and Pete had come over to watch. Even, some of the comic book only people were coming over to see what was up. The sequence ended and Mike hit a key to pause, while he got us ready for play.
“Okay boys and girls,” Mike announced, “You’ve been recruited to help save New Riverside from this new syndicate. Horus is the tall dark cowled man who has brought you all here. He hands you each an envelope with your cover identities. When you open it you find a driver’s license, a social security card, a cell phone and an ATM card. There is also a page describing where you can find a place to live and work. You’ll work in pairs, and use the cell phones to stay in contact. These phones have a secure encrypted link and you have wireless earphones so you can use them tactically.
Mike briefed everyone, “Here are your assignments. Wolfen, you and Streeter are going in as a new security firm moving into the area taking advantage of the unrest in the city. Streeter is the rich security consultant and Wolfen, you are the bodyguard. Renegade, you and Lady Diamond are set up as Channel 7’s newest airborne reporting team. Your helicopter will have some special features, such as a remote pilot function, and an AI computer to make it easier for you to be in two places at the same time.”
Mike, then looked to Danny and me, as we struck the feminine pose of resting our chins on our grasped hands. He did his best to ignore the burst of laughter from our peanut gallery of on-lookers.
I did see Pete give a snort of disgust at our performance, but our playing was just funny, not lewd, so he couldn’t say anything. Danny gave me a subtle look that meant he had seen Pete as well, but we were having far too much fun to really give a hoot.
“Right ...” Mike drawled, “You two have an audition at a local strip club named Twin Peaks, which Horus thinks is involved in the syndicate. All of the performers have some type of minor power, and rumor has it that it is a super-villain hang-out. It’s up to you to decide how much you want to reveal about yourselves and your powers to the management. Now, because you two are working at the same place and at the most risk, you are also rooming together.”
Mike turned the screen back around so we could all see, and pushed the ‘enter’ key. Then it got a little weird, because when the animated stuff started back up, it showed our characters in their secret identities! Understand, none of this information had been entered into Mike's laptop, so how in the blue blazes had the program known to include our character’s graphics?
Wolfen was in his human form in a chauffeur’s uniform driving Streeter in his playboy guise. Renegade was piloting a helicopter with Lady Diamond in HIS normal identity.
I could see that our spectators were enjoying the graphics, but all the players and Mike were wondering how the hell did that program do that. All of us used the on-line character generation and had made the cool pictures as well, but not in their civilian identities. There was just no way the computer could know what they looked like out of costume or that they were for Mike’s game.
The animation continued, and moved on to Mystery and Esper-anza. Pete’s eyebrows rose as it showed Mystery and Esper-anza performing their audition for that strip club. Several of the peanut gallery started hooting, but then grew quiet, as it became clear that, we were going to see everything, and boy, do I mean everything!
Pete starting choking, because ‘Cosmic Forge’ was a comic book shop that had underage customers in it, and he didn’t want to be sued or go to jail. Mike blushed red and pushed several keys trying to interrupt our impromptu porn session. Nothing he did made any difference, and then the audition footage ended.
Some smart-ass in the back, said, “Was it good for you too, Baby? “
A banner read, “Heroes, your adventure begins,” appeared on the screen and then …
Heroes of Justice: The adventure begins!
I don’t know what happened next. Some might call it a flash of light, and others, of suddenly falling down a long tunnel. All I knew was, I was cold. My eyes were closed, which was strange, because I didn’t remember closing them. I was half-afraid of what I would see when I opened them, because I didn’t hear the sounds of our noisy peanut-gallery of fans. I did hear some music in the background but somehow I didn't think Pete would be playing what I was hearing in Cosmic Forge.
Gathering my courage I opened my eyes. There was this gorgeous African-Hispanic woman wearing nothing but a smile staring right at me. She looked at my chest, and strangely, that was comforting because that meant I wasn’t looking in a mirror. That lasted less than a second, as I looked down to see what she was looking at, and saw nothing but cleavage! Boy, do I mean nothing but! My breasts obscured everything! I reached up to cup my newly acquired bosom, and saw that my hands were now slender and sporting long, red nails. It was also plain why I felt cold, because I wasn’t wearing ANYTHING! Well, almost, I don’t think the 4” heels counted.
I nearly screamed, when suddenly, starting at my feet a latex cat-suit flowed up my body, stopping at my neck. Raising my hands, I saw that although it looked like latex, it felt soft and silky, and looked if I had gloves on. It took a moment, for my shocked brain to stop trying to short-out, but I was beginning to sort out what had happened.
I looked into the dressing table mirror where I was seated and saw that naughty, beautiful face with long strawberry blond hair and knew that somehow, I had become Missy T. Reed, my character! I had wanted to become clothed and the symbiont my character had named Cape had obeyed, clothing me from neck to toe. It didn’t seem to matter to it that the cat-suit didn’t hide a damn thing.
I had a sneaking suspicion who that gorgeous chick was next to me was. I twisted on my stool, feeling my breasts sway and jiggle, towards my companion. At the erotic sensation of my nipples rubbing against the cat-suit, along with being nude with a woman as beautiful as a goddess, I was beginning to feel a dampness from below that I very deliberately put in the far back of my mind. My raven haired fellow dressing-table mate was looking into her mirror, touching her face in disbelief. Softy, as to not alarm her, I whispered, “Danny are you there?”
At the smoky, contralto voice that issued from my mouth, I damn near wet my self! We both jumped, and she nodded as I grasped my throat in alarm. Danny mouthed my name, and I nodded back making me aware of my long hair and dangling earrings.
Then, damn it, she giggled, saying “You sound like Jessica Rabbit!” in a musical voice that would’ve done Tina Turner proud. I tried to resist, but finally burst out in a fit of giggles of my own! It was a demented, joyful, sad, and happy madness, as what had happened collapsed in on us. For the first time in my life I felt a satisfied balance between mind, body and soul. That changed absolutely nothing about finding ourselves naked, in a strip club known for being a mob and mass-murder hang-out, giggling like a pair of fools.
After an eternity passed, we found ourselves hugging each other. Sometime during all of this, I got the sniffles. I lied to myself that I wasn’t crying, and neither was Danny. The full sexual impact of what we were doing hit us and we found ourselves looking into each other eyes full of a lovely powerful tension.
What happened next was one of those things there just aren’t words for. For the second time in less than five minutes my life changed, when I saw, felt, tasted, scented, and heard all of what made Danny, Danny. I somehow knew Danny was feeling and doing the same to me. I liked what I was feeling/seeing from her and somehow felt the same from Danny. We were somehow reaching for each other …
“Hey you two! Get a room,” rang a voice that I would quickly learn to hate. Danny and I broke apart, confused, and I could tell that my face was burning as furiously as hers was.
A blond, easy to identify as bleached, floated in as if she was in zero gravity. Her hair drifted around her, as she reached a stool. She had flesh toned booties on, with Velcro on the bottoms that fastened to the stool legs. After she had attached herself, she took a sitting position, and lit up a cigarette with a flick of an expensive lighter. This easy to hate woman then flicked the lighter and let it orbit around her like a space station or something.
I didn’t have a clue who she was, but we were being insulted, and neither Danny nor I cared much for it. It also hadn’t escaped us that, well Danny anyway, was nude, and I might as well be, in a women’s dressing room.
The gravity-less woman gave me a catty look and smirked, “No need to do another costume change, honey. You certainly shook that booty enough to get any man to want to pay for it. Oh, that came out wrong didn‘t it? I mean, hire you, darling.” By the tone of her voice, she meant exactly what she’d said the first time.
Danny caught my eye, and to my surprise I heard her voice without her saying a thing. I mean, Danny and I knew each other well enough that I could read his, I mean, her, meanings pretty well. I was a little hard of hearing too, so was used to figuring out things I couldn’t hear well.
Without moving her lips, she said, “Don’t pay that whore any mind. You’ll just encourage her”
Startled, I looked at Danny. I tried thinking at her as clearly and as focused as I could. “Danny, I think we have our character’s powers. You may have Esper-anza’s powers, be careful. We have to get out of here fast, without any problems, before we get into some serious trouble.”
I saw a surprised look, but relaxed when she gave one of her patented winks saying she understood. I knew that as Mystery, I’d had Cape, my symbiont, change form and make it look like I had simply changed clothes in the past. I took a breath and concentrated, as I mimed removing the cat-suit. To my relief, it worked fairly well. I could see where the illusion failed, but it looked pretty good. Turning around, I saw Danny staring at my much differently shaped rear, and damn, if we didn’t both blush again.
Our clothes were hanging nearby, and I was dismayed when I saw them. I had a black leather skirt, complete with 4” heeled knee boots and a satiny green top with a short black leather waistcoat. Danny’s choices were just as scanty. Hers was just like mine, except her skirt was in white and the top was red watered silk, which left her midriff bare. The underwear made it clear that Missy and Esperanza spent more time in “Frederick’s” than in “Victoria’s.”
It was nerve-wracking to try and dress with a real woman in the room, trying not to look if we hadn’t dressed ourselves before, because we hadn’t! I had crossed-dressed before I gave it up as a lost cause, so I had a vague clue to go on. Danny was doing just fine, and it’s my bet that he’d done this before too. We were going to have deal with whatever had happened between us sometime soon, but not now, I told my roller-coaster emotions.
I looked across the dressing-room to the door, and the term “a bridge too far” came to mind. Trying to walk that far in 4”heels was going to be beyond me! Danny had a questioning look on her beautiful face. ‘Damn it, down hormones, down, I say!’ I then remembered something I had read on one of the on-line TG story sites about a sexy heroine using her powers to fake walking in heels. Thinking hard at Danny, “Don’t try to walk. We’re both supposed to be able to fly. Try to float, and move yourself with just your toes.”
I stood up a little unsteadily, and willed myself to float. It wouldn’t get me into the Rockette’s, but I didn’t fall on my face. The mantra of take small steps, float, one foot in front of another, repeated over and over in my abused, over-clocked brain. Thank you, EE! I had made it almost all the way out and was relieved neither Danny nor I had fallen.
Everything was going well until that bitch floated over and put her face in mine. “Hey girls, just because you work here now, remember you are just the new meat.” she said as she blew smoke in my face. She then hovered out the door, apparently determined to make her exit before us.
Danny touched me on my shoulder, and calmly said, “Easy Greg, hum, GIRL.” She glanced down at my carry bag where I’d ripped the fabric straps, tearing nearly all the way though the fabric. Flipping her hair and with a wink, she added, “Let’s get outa’ here, girlfriend.”
I was embarrassed at having almost lost control and put that SO AND SO, in her place, most likely with Mystery’s strength, through several walls. I teetered for a moment on my stilts when I lost concentration. Not because of being angry, but at how turned-on I’d gotten when Danny touched my shoulder. ‘I SAID, Heel! Hormones!’
We ventured into the smoky club desperate to avoid attention knowing the way we were dressed, there was no way on God’s Green Earth that was going happen. The club was about half-empty, and it struck me that I had no idea t what time it was or even what day. In our world it was around 1pm on Saturday afternoon, here I hadn’t a clue.
There was a dancer on stage, and I found out that at least part of my brain was still mine, because there is nothing like a naked female body to distract you from a life or death situation. I was almost overwhelmed by the loud music, because in my old body, I was hard of hearing, while Mystery’s hearing was just fine.
When you add in raging hormones, being dressed, or rather mostly undressed, in women’s clothing and knowing that at least some of those guys sitting at the tables around me were likely to be a card carrying mobsters, mass murders or even worse, super-villains, who could tear me apart with their bare hands, I was becoming an nervous wreck!
“Girls, Girls, There you are!” announced a caricature of an Italian organized crime figure. He was square built, just starting to put on weight, with the required patrician nose, and thinning hair. “I liked what I saw, girls. What say you come by Monday, when my accountant gets here, and he can set ya up with all the mumbo-jumbo paperwork, and you can start work.” He said all of that and never once looked at our eyes, because his gaze was a little lower, if you know what I mean. His manners screamed that he was a lady-killer, or at least, thought he was, and I was feeling far too much like the meat that bi….witch called us.
He acted as if he was waiting for us to do something, and I’d had just about enough to push me over into panic and run out. Danny stepped forward and kissed the guy on the cheek, “Thanks Tony, me and Missy really need the work.”
Taking Danny’s clue, I leaned forward, perversely arching my back to giving him a good view of my cleavage, and kissed his cheek as well. “Yeah, thanks Tony.” I can’t tell you why I did that, because my thoughts were racing so fast, but I knew that keeping him distracted was a good thing. ‘Please, let’s us get out here in one piece,’ I was praying.
However Tony wasn’t finished with us yet, because he leered, “Why don’t you girls hang out with me and the boys tonight?”
Danny saved the day again, by replying, “Now, Tony you know that Missy and I don’t mix business and pleasure. We’re gonna’ be working for ya’ so that’s makes it business.”
I was beginning to shake by that point, thinking that we were so dead, but Tony surprised me by taking Danny’s refusal with good grace.
“I heard that from Joey, who runs that “Hip Hugger” joint you two were working, in Jersey. You can’t blame a guy for trying,” he shrugged philosophically. When he swatted us on the butts as he walked past, if it hadn’t been for Danny, I would’ve gone though the roof. I literally mean that, because all along I’d been hovering with my heels just touching the floor and Danny had to pull me down, when Tony popped me! I hope no one noticed!
The bouncer seemed strangely cool and gave us the high sign on our way out. Maybe being surrounded by nude women most of the day gave him no reason to undress us with his eyes. Well heck, he’d already seen everything anyway, if I remember that damn animated bit that started all of this.
It was a little cool and breezy outside which was about the same as at the ‘Cosmic Forge’. I was shaking pretty badly by this time, and it took an effort to check the sky to get an idea of the time. I didn’t have Morgan’s IQ or even that some of the other players, but I was very perceptive of things going on around me, and everything that had happened had me in overload! It looked about mid-afternoon, so it appeared we hadn’t suffered jet-lag - world-lag - transformation-lag, or whatever it was!
Danny started going though her purse and seeing that it was a good idea, I did the same. Yuk, the first thing, I found was an open pack of those long, thin cigarette’s women smoke. It seems that this Mystery was a smoker. I don’t smoke, and think it’s rude to go around with a toxic cloud billowing around you. ‘Let’s hope that I’m not addicted,’ I told myself.
Next was the usual make-up, tampons/pads, (Let’s not go there yet!), and a wallet. I checked the wallet and found I had several hundred dollars as well as an ID giving an address for Missy Reed. Checking the expiration date, it looked new, and I hoped the address was current. As Greg, I never carried more than a hundred on me, mostly because I never had more than that at one time. Placing the wallet back in the purse I found a cell phone in a side pocket and yes, a set of keys! Looking for car keys, I found a VW ignition key, with a security key bob.
“Missy, are you all right?” asked Danny.
I was still shaky, but a bit better than I was in Twin Peak Hell. I held up the key trying to smile and she matched me, holding up one of her own. A little of my own playfulness returned, when I asked her, “On three?” When she nodded, I counted, “One, Three!” and pressed the pager that flashed the lights of our car, I hoped. Of course, she pushed hers as well as we both sang out and giggled, “What happened to two!”
Across the small lot, I saw lights flash and tried to do my inspired floating tippy paws walk, over to it. Danny beat me over there and I knew for sure she’d worn heels before, because she definitely wasn’t floating, and was shaking it very nicely, indeed!
I had a difficult time walking across the lot, because of the breeze blowing me around like a balloon! I had to add enough weight to keep from blowing away, but fly enough to keep from falling over! By the time, I got to the car, Danny had already struck a pose like a model introducing it, and I gave a cry of exasperation, “Oh, give me a break!”
The car our key fobs had unlocked was hot pink with pastel flowers, a new style convertible VW Bug. Danny started giggling again and I shook my finger at her not to start THAT again! Do we get a set of cool superhero wheels? Nooo … We get the ultimate chick car! Alright, I admit that it fit our characters, but my mind at least was still geared to more masculine standards.
Hey, give me some slack here! Even the transgendered who go all the way, with SRS, have doctors and psychologists to aid them. They have that real life test where they live as a woman; I think it’s for one year. I’ve had less than thirty minutes! Hell, the first time I dressed as a woman in public was TEN minutes ago! Okay, maybe it was ‘undressed’ as a woman.
It was a lost cause. Once she started giggling, I got hit by the contagion too. That led to jiggling, and it was just a short trip to blushing again! ‘I told you NO! Get back ye spawn of hormones, back I say!’
Danny and I were back to the, 'looking deeply into each other’s eyes thing,' brimming over with sexual tension and maybe something else as well. My brain knew that Danny, my male friend, was inside that bombshell who made playboy bunnies look like plain Jane’s, but my libido was telling me huba, huba! Yeah, but everything was connected up differently now. My hard nipples made that very clear. All of these new sensations were giving me the shakes again.
Danny must have seen this, because that so beautiful voice told me, “Poor thing, Get in our flower-power-mobile, and let’s see if we can find somewhere to sort this out.”
My emotions were flaring up again, so I could do was nod. I managed to slide into the car without flashing anyone, and for the first time since all of this began, found a little peace. One of my gifts is an awareness of self. I can, for instance, feel where the “tightness” is when I hiccup or am bothered by the tickle reflex, and relax it voluntarily. Neat trick huh?
I’d always known that something was out tune when I was growing up, but didn’t know what. It wasn’t till later that I figured out the transgender angle. Once I had a name for my pain, other things started making sense about the way I felt. Men did nothing for me. It was women that did it for me, and not just sexually, but the way they dressed, acted, and everything feminine about them.
That uncomfortable out of sync not-pain that I’d felt for so long was gone. It left only a wonderful, balanced sensation, but the problem now was everything else! As a male, my arousal was more of a physical thing. Sure, I’d felt love before, and preferred love and sex to just sex.
My short experience as a female had my emotions and sexual arousal tied intensely together. My natural perceptiveness made me supernaturally aware of all of this from the whisper of my hair on my cheeks to the urgent wetness of my new sex. It was pure sensory overload.
In desperation, I attempted the meditation trick of taking of what I was feeling and “breathing it all in.” You succeeded by not fighting it, but by accepting it. Get used to it? Not anytime soon, but it did help stop my mind from fighting what this body was telling it. To my relief, the stress and shaking eased.
When I opened my eyes, Danny was obviously worried about me, and I had to admit to myself, that although I didn’t have a clue how it happened, I had strong feelings for her. We were gaming buddies, but didn’t hang together except for role-playing together. Male conditioning was screaming red alert, that this was so wrong!
“I’m okay now, I think,” I tried to reassure her. “Too much has happened, too soon. How are you holding up?” I asked her as I softly touched her hand.
“This is wonderful,” she gushed out with her eyes shining. Danny gazed intently at me and questioned, “You haven’t done this before have you?”
I shook my head, “Not in public, anyway. You remember how I use to look. I couldn’t even vaguely pass, so I gave it up and stuck to role-playing. How about you?” I asked.
Danny smiled, “While, we’re revealing secrets, I’ll drive us away from this “wretched hive of scum and villainy.” She pulled out into traffic. “You remember that I always left with one of my girlfriends from work after the game? Well, I would change into ‘fem’, and we would go out! I’ve been preparing for my Real-Life test.
She giggled at my open mouth expression as I asked, “You were going to have SRS? Were you on HRT? You weren’t going to leave the gaming group, were you?”
“Whoa Girl! One thing at a time,” She giggled. “You know how much the whole process costs, and I was getting help from my hospital’s insurance plan” she said softy. As I nodded, she went on, “I haven’t started HRT yet, but was going though the screening. About gaming, you know Pete wouldn’t understand about this, but I hadn’t decided about it yet. I thought you were maybe TG, but you didn’t seem to want to talk about it so …” she gestured with one hand.
I did see, while we were talking, that our Flower-Power-Mobile had a GPS and Map Navigation system. I punched in the address on my Driver’s license and Danny started following the machine’s directions. “You weren’t interested in me there, were you?” I said, still feeling very confused at the strong feelings I had for her.
“More curious, than anything else,” Danny told me “I’ve had experiences with guys before, but it wasn’t anything I wanted to repeat until maybe after my surgery. Were you interest in me?”
“I’m afraid not, men don’t do anything for me,” I told her. Blushing again, I confessed, “I am feeling confused at just how I feel right now.”
“That’s good to know,” Danny teased, and tossed that wonderful mane of thick blue, black hair. Seeing me blush, she said, “Whoa, girl, stay with me, here. We’re going to need you. I was still figuring out that my Real-Life Test was starting right now, and you had already jumped ahead and sorted out we were in the game somehow. You even saw how we could fake walking in heels, not that I needed the help.”
She smiled. “You have a way of seeing things that most of us miss, and putting them together intuitively,” she reassured me.
“Don’t give me too much credit, Danny,” I snorted. “You’re the one that got us past Tony back there, and I’m the one shaking over here. You were the cool one.”
“Honey,” she said, “the first time I was dressed in public, I was frightened out of my mind. That was just at the mall, and not in a strip club with Tony the Tiger back there. Don’t be so hard on yourself.
Hey, I think I know something that might help you. When I first started going en-fem, I would pretend I was role-playing, and that helped me ‘til I could relax and just be myself. That’s how I dealt with Tony. I just role-played Anza, just like back home at Cosmic Forge. Why don’t you try role-playing Missy, at least when we’re 'on-stage”? She asked me.
I thought about what Danny had said, and nodded to her. “I’ll try,” I told her.
“Okay, Let’s do this right. You call me Anza and I'll call you Missy, ‘kay?” Anza suggested.
Nodding, I closed my eyes and tried to figure out what Mystery would do right now in the game. It soon came to me. “Cape,” I asked my symbiont, “are we being followed?”
Cape flowed up my legs and over my clothes, where it merged with them. I could feel the difference in the texture like I had with the latex cat-suit earlier. It was much softer and comfortable. It continued to flow up until it circled my neck and formed part of itself into a scarf.
You’d think that with everything that had happened to me in the, had it been only an hour, this would’ve finished freaking me out. No such thing. The whole experience was oddly comforting in a way I can’t explain. It was like 'that warm, everything is okay and right with world feeling' you get from a hug by someone who really cares.
That wonderful warm feeling was completely spoiled by the object that dropped into my lap from cape as it flowed upwards. Picking it I saw it was a Classic style cigarette lighter that I had last seen orbiting around Miss Zero Gravity B-Witch like a golden satellite as she was blowing smoke into my face.
“Did you steal this?” I asked silently of Cape and got back only a, sad, *I'm sorry* kind of feeling. ‘Great! I have a kleptomaniac symbiont,’ I thought to myself and slipped it into my purse pointedly ignoring Danny's raised eyebrows.
Cape the scarf, paying no attention to my distress was waving in the breeze although the windows were up! I looked at where the end was blowing, and the tip of Cape the scarf, gave a finger-pointing motion at the red Caddie a car back from us. ‘Whata’ Ham!’
Danny, oops! Anza, looking over at my antics said, “Missy, do you know how unsettling that looks to watch it cover you like that? It’s like T-1000 gross! Hey, what’s up?” she asked when she saw my face.
Damn it, but I shouldn’t be surprised, because let’s face it Dan … Argh! ANZA might’ve been able to walk away from Twin Peaks without arousing suspicion, but I’d been waaay, out of character! We had to lose these guys, but without causing more of a stir. Finding out if the other guys had come with us, and talking to them, if they had, was a major item on the 'To Do List' thing, and we couldn’t do that with Uncles Guido and Fester tailing us.
My brain started racing again in that weird way of mine, and it smacked me in the face. I knew what to do. I turned to Anza and calmly said, “Take it easy, but you know, we were acting too strange for Tony not to start wondering what was up. He’s got two goons tailing us. But hey, I’ve got a plan!”
Anza’s eyebrows rose, but thankfully there wasn’t any panic. I think she might be enjoying all of this! “So what is this plan of yours, girlfriend?” she asked me. “I don’t think we’ll be outrunning them in Flower-Power-Mobile.”
I giggled again, but I couldn‘t help it! I wish I would stop that! “Oh no, nothing like that. I want to give them an explanation for our behavior, so they will lose interest, not have a car chase!” I watched her face to gage her reaction when I asked her, “How confident do you feel about using your powers?”
“I’m not sure … It depends on what you’re got in mind. I think I could manage something simple. Using them seems to be just a case of willing them to happen,” she said, while licking her full lips.
‘Please, hormones. Behave yourselves and BACK OFF!’ “I want you to find a place to park, like we’re trying for a bit of privacy and make it look like you’re shooting me up with some drug. Maybe a little bit of esper illusions to make it more believable,” I blushed as she started giggling at the privacy part.
“Please Anza! Keep your mind out of the gutter,” I chided her, and lightly slapped her shoulder.
“Hey, Don‘t blame me! You‘re the one who blushed,” she retorted. “I just took advantage of a straight line.”
She thought for a moment, “Let’s try it.” She pulled into a strip-mall parking lot that had the usual Food Tiger and SVC pharmacy in it, and parked in the back of the lot. “Where are they now?” she asked.
Cape, still emulating a scarf, twisted like a weather vane in the wind, and pointed at the car parked beside a Dodge Neon. Wow, they picked the perfect place to hide, as both the front and back of that long red Caddy were sticking out from behind the compact car! I looked at Anza and saw we were both fighting the giggles. This sure wasn’t the first draft, Tony’d sent after us.
Anza took a tube of lip-stick from her purse and made a show of treating it like a syringe. I could see a sorta odd glow in her eyes and knew that she was doing something with her powers. I hoped this worked. Then she removed a hair band and made a show of using it as a tourniquet.
“Okay Missy,” Anza said. “Show’s on!” She pretended to inject me with the lip-stick. I bit my lip and arched my back while rolling my eyes to the back of my head.
Anza leaned forward, whispered, “Don’t overdo it, you prima donna! Now go boneless limp, and kinda smile,” she ordered as she released her fake tourniquet.
“Nurse’s orders?” I whispered back, following her instructions.
“No Honey, you’ll get those when we get home,” she purred.
That caused me to blush even redder. “That’s it,” she said approvingly. “Nice and flush after a injection,” and held my arm as if she had just given me a shot.
“I think it worked,” Anza told me. “They even got a shot of you blushing with their picture phone.”
I got a little alarmed, but Anza said, “Please calm down, They didn’t see anything but your acting. With that beautiful flushed look and the rest, they’ll think you’re a druggie, and it should get us off the hook. Nice plan baby,” she cooed to me.
Naughty me, enjoyed every moment of her attention. I was losing the fight with the evil female hormones and could see nothing, but DOOM approaching.
When she leaned over and kissed me, I jumped, startled, but I never had a chance. I don’t know how many years that kiss lasted, but the sweet taste of lip-stick and Anza’s breath lingered for … it seemed like a piece of forever. Now, I really did feel if I truly had been shot up with some narcotic.
A little voice that had been collecting gaming trivia for years, reminded me the most potent drugs affect the same chemical receptor sites as natural occurring peptides and endocrines in the brain for pleasure and other effects, like chocolate mildly does for a natural aphrodisiac that is produced when in love. ‘Shut up’, I told it, as I sat there, savoring the aftereffects from those heavenly lips.
Eventually, I turned my head to watch my beautiful companion’s glowing eyes fade back to their normal deep chocolate brown. Anza, I saw, also looked a little disheveled, with our mutually smeared lip-stick.
“This was easy,” Anza, said, “It wasn’t hard at all to use my powers. Using the props helped, but I was just reading their minds, and Tony, who was talking to them on the phone, told them to take off. Your plan worked, but you know, if we’re going to be here a while, this could cause us problems with them thinking you're a user.”
“Don’t you mean, cause ME problems?” I replied, still trying to still my beating heart’s tattoo of pleasure.
Anza reached out and grasped my long nailed hand with hers, saying tenderly, “No, I meant, cause US problems, love.”
I gently squeezed her hand back and told Anza, “We’re going to have to have a long talk”.
Anza nodded, and we left the mall, continuing to follow the little GPS box’s instructions down this peculiar yellow brick road. I found myself being quiet as we traveled toward where we hoped was home, or as close as we were going to one get in this world.
Heroes of Justice: The Council of War!
We pulled up to a little run down looking house in a neighborhood that appeared to cater mostly to college students at the local university, judging by the banners we saw on the porches and windows. Anza and I parked our pink car, and walked up to the door of our home, at least, we hoped it was our home! Anza tried her house key first, and we both breathed a sigh of relief when it worked. At least we had a place to sleep tonight.
It was obvious that we’d just moved in, because of all of the still packed boxes and that most of the furniture was still in plastic wrapping. It appeared that the furniture had come from one of those rental-rip-off places, that let you make small weekly payments, which end up costing you sometimes five times what the stuff was worth. In other words, just what you would expect in a house of someone in OUR profession.
It’s one thing to pretend you’re a stripper or erotic dancer in a game. It was a COMICBOOK style story, and not real life. In real life, these dancers are often victims in one way or another. I’m not saying they all are, but enough are that I know, I DIDN’T want to do it for a living.
I moved boxes off of the couch so I could sit and take off those boots. When I touched them to unzip them, they flowed all the way down, becoming a sinfully, comfortable pair of pink fuzzy bunny slippers. I’d forgotten, about Cape being able to instantly change my attire. Wiggling my toes, I found I could make the bunny ears waggle. I don’t have a clue how long I sat there, zoned out, wiggling my slipper's bunny ears, because the next thing I knew Anza was sitting down next to me.
Anza gently took my face in her hands and tilted it to make me look at her. I didn’t want to meet her eyes, but knew that she deserved that courtesy. When I did, I could see tears in them, and I couldn’t help myself as I grabbed her and hugged her for all I was worth.
The sobs that broke from both of us were heartbreaking, a cleansing storm of tears we both needed. Sometimes it was like we were laughing, or sobbing, or both at the same time. For some reason it reminded me of the quote, “It was the best of times, it was the worse of times.” That perfectly summed up our situation and our feelings at the time.
I felt Anza becoming more intimate, and I gently tried to escape from our hug. Anza spoke, “If you think I’m going to let you go, then you’re on drugs, because it’s not going to happen, girl!”
When we settled down, I pleaded, “Anza, we can’t do this. We don’t know what is going on here, or if we’re stuck here. What happens if we go back to our world where we are both guys? I feel conflicted enough right now.”
“Missy, … uh, Greg, I know what I am feeling right now, and if we go back to our world, well, I was going to get SRS anyway. When I saw you back in the dressing room, it was as if I had finally found the part of myself, that I was missing,” With her eyes shining and red from tears, Anza continued, “I was finally a whole woman whose inner turmoil was finally gone, and there you were.
“I could feel in some way, you were a part of me too. A part that would help chase away pain and bring only strength and love with you. I can feel what you are feeling right now, and I KNOW you‘re feeling the same kind of things.” Still holding me she told me tenderly, “I’ve fallen for you Missy, and I love you.”
“Anza, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I begged. “We’ve been transformed, transported, Lord only knows where, and thrown into the deep end. Are our feelings real, or is all of this just part of someone’s nasty idea of fun? Think about it! Let’s throw the two TG guys who like girls into the gender spin-master and see what happens. Did this place’s Missy and Anza love each other, and we’re just feeling what they felt, or did we get sucked into that computer program somehow, and all this is just Matrix style programming?”
Anza firmly put a finger to my lips to silence me, “Whoa, girl, I can see why you were a spook in the service, but why are you complicating this?”
“A battlefield intelligence specialist is NOT a spook,” I said primly. “Besides, you’re right, I am feeling the same things that you are. I’ve never felt this way before and it is terrifyingly wonderful, but I’ve got to be sure it’s really me that’s feeling it. Please, just slow down a little, Anza,” I asked her.
Her eyes were looking right into mine, and for a moment I was concerned that maybe she would try to use her powers on ME. I took myself in hand (not that I could do that anymore!) and told myself, ‘This woman loves you and you think you’re in love with her. If you can’t trust her, we both have nothing but ashes.’
Her voice became husky, “Do you know how much I want to ravage you right now, Love? How can you say wait, when I can see that you want me as much as I want you?”
“I’m afraid, Anza, uh, Danny. Too many lonely nights, and now here, with along everything else that has happened, I don’t want to admit some things even to myself. You’ve found your dream and are going after it, but for me, the only way I could survive was to lie to myself and everyone around me. The game kept me from going completely crazy, and now it’s all out in the open.”
Something pinged in my back mind, a thought that hadn’t crystallized yet.
Anza said, “I know this isn’t easy for you, and I know girl, how much it hurts to be wearing the wrong skin. You can’t lock yourself away without hurting yourself worse inside.” Looking at me, she stopped talking, and after a moment asked, “What’s wrong now?”
“Well, while we’ve been wrapped up trying to sort out what we’ve feeling, I wonder if Will knows how to fly a helicopter?” I was thinking back to that dammed computer program that had something to do with our being here, and of it showing Will’s and Morgan’s characters flying in an helicopter I was fairly sure neither one of them knew how to fly.
I saw the alarm on her face, as she exclaimed, “Shit, you sure know how to throw ice water on a girl’s libido, don’t you.” Anza and I looked at each other for second wondering what to do next when at the same time we remembered the cell phones. We both grabbed for our purses, searching for them. Anza found hers first, but I found the phones had been turned off, before she did.
I found the phone-book function and bizarrely, our friends PLAYER’S names were listed. 'Stranger and stranger,' a girl named Alice once said, and I was beginning to wonder if what she’d found on the other side of the looking glass was any stranger than where we were. Anza, in the meanwhile, had gone to messages, and found that indeed they had been trying to get in touch with us. We split up the calls and I got Will and Morgan.
Butterflies were doing bombing runs in my nervous stomach as I waited for someone to pickup the phone as it rang. “Hello?” answered an unfamiliar male voice on the other end.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m looking for two friends of mine, WILL and MORGAN are they at this number?”
The voice incredulously asked, “Greg, Danny? Is that you?”
Relieved, I told the voice, “You got it right the first time. This is who?”
“Morgan,” he answered. “Are you guys okay? You scared us when we couldn’t reach you. We were able to get a hold of Mark and Tom, and aside from being a little shaken up they‘re fine. Tom is having some problems adapting, because of that screwed up metabolism of Streeter‘s”
I gave Anza a thumb’s up sign, letting her know that Morgan and Will were all right “Well, we’re okay right now. You can say Danny and I have had a difficult time adapting as well, if for different reasons. Sorry about the phones, but we found ourselves in a dressing room and just now found out our phones were turned off.” Really hoping Mike meant what he was talking about “these” phones being secure, I said, “We may have been followed. I think we gave them reason to think we were harmless and they left, but you never know.”
Morgan replied, “Yeah, I know no guarantees. You know you sound a lot like Kathleen Turner?”
Remembering that Kathleen had done the voice for Jessica Rabbit, I sighed, “I’ve been told that, yes. Danny’s is a lot like Tina Turner’s.”
“We haven’t been thinking about trying to keep cover, but trying to figure out what happened. I was going to have everyone meet at the Black Bull steak house, so we can talk it out,” he told me.
I wasn’t too thrilled with that idea, because that would mean going back out into public immediately. Bluntly, I didn’t feel ready yet, but I knew that I would have to, and soon. Covering the phone, I told Anza what was up with a mixture of lip-reading, and mind-reading on her part. She relayed back to me, using her own special combination miming and hand waving, that she was talking to Mark and he’d told her about the same thing.
We both halted, and looked at each-other realizing, what we had just done. I mean, Anza has ESP and I’ve always been good at reading body-language, but this went beyond that. It was more like long term partners who knew each other minds so well they didn’t need superpowers to read each other’s thoughts.
“Greg, are you still there?” Morgan wanted to know.
“Yeah, Morgan, I’m still here. I was passing the information on to Danny. Hmmm, I don’t think we’re up to going back out right now. Danny’s handling it pretty well, but the CHANGE has thrown me for a loop. Can you guys get over here and not be seen, in case we’re still being watched?” I asked him.
“Mark, Will and I could, but Tom is having almost as much trouble as you two. To him, everyone is moving in slow motion, and he talks so fast no one can understand him, so Mark, medicated him with some Jim Beam. I was concerned about what it would do to his weird physiology, but it seemed to work. The problem is, he is not up to sneaking anywhere. Steak house, yes, sneaking around in the dark, no.”
Morgan paused, “I need to see you guys, hmmm girls, tonight. Let me and the other guys keep the steak-house meeting, and I’ll come over afterward in disguise, and catch you up on what happened.”
Anza and I did our mind-reading thing again and we agreed that was the best way before we turned back to our phone conversations.
“Morgan that’s a plan,” I told him. Then thinking about something about him seemed kinda off to me, I asked him, “Oh, Morgan are you really okay? Is there something about you that’s out of sync?”
I heard a sigh on the other end, and Morgan said, “I should’ve known you would pick-up on it, and the answer is yes. I don’t want to go into it here, but I really need to see you two without the other guys around.”
“Done and done, my friend.” I gave him the address, and he gave me the addresses where he and the others were.
“Anza, I think Morgan is having a problem like ours. He was just a cross-dresser character, right?” I asked her as we hung up our phones.
“I know his hero ID is a diamond hard crystal that can charge with light and shoot it like a laser. He is male in his secret identity and shape-changes to crystal form. Let me see, once in crystal form he can alter the shape into female, and other shapes, too,” she said.
“Anza, I’ve had a thought. He said he was a cross-dresser, but did he ever say which way? We just assumed that he was a male pretending to be female, but knowing how Morgan likes to screw with people’s heads, SHE might be pretending to be male, and the crystal form is her REAL one. For that matter we don’t have any proof to how close to our characters we are right now. Our characters didn’t have this relationship and this mind reading thing going on,” I lectured. “This could all be just a program overlaying our real personalities.”
Anza shook her head and took my hand, “I think we are here in bodies based on our Hero’s of Justice characters. I believe that when you and I materialized in that dressing room, we were both able for the first time to see parts of each other that we weren’t able to before. With my powers, I really saw YOU, and I think your bond with your Cape, lets you see ME.”
She was convincing, because she was at least partially right. I do have a mental link with my symbiont, and Cape does have an empathic sense that lets it know when someone is considering harm to me.
She went on, “In our other world, we liked each other, and got along well together. Here, we are so beautiful, super-models and movie-stars would kill to look like us, and we both like girls. I think with all of that, we saw each other, liked it and we are alike enough to mesh somehow because of our powers. Call it love at first sight or true love, but now that we know, I don’t think even if we went back home, that it would change anything.”
I wasn’t real happy with what Anza was saying, but it did make sense. I could feel her love for me and knew that love was returned. Not admitting it didn’t make it go away! I didn’t know what life would be like back home, knowing the love I felt for, it would be Danny there, gulp!
“Anza, I wish I could prove you wrong, but I can’t,” I told her sadly, “I do feel you are right about this part anyway. If we to back, I’m going to be a guy again, and you said that you preferred the ladies like I do. You were going to have SRS, but I wasn’t and I still don’t feel comfortable with that, for me, at least. This just can’t work.” I was working myself up into tears again.
She held me tightly, and said comfortingly, “If you can live with me after the SRS, I can live with you as a guy. I might prefer girls, but I’ve seen the good inside you, and you are the one I choose. Besides,” she said mischievously, “I can always dress you up en-femme sometimes.”
“Okay there, Luke. Take it easy with the force!” I giggled. “ ‘Seen the good inside you,’ indeed. You can steal all of the movie lines you want, but I’m still not ready for you to have your way with me yet.”
Anza stoked my hair, and I was content to let her. I was certain if I let myself, I would fall so hard for her that there wouldn’t be any redemption. A small voice was saying that it was already too late. I had admitted what I felt for her was love. All I was doing now was refusing to act on it.
That was all made harder by not knowing what was going on. Why were some of our new powers so easy to use, and other things so difficult? I still wasn’t sure about how much I could trust what I was feeling, and what I could do.
As I turned and gazed at her, I realized not only how beautiful I found her, but how much it felt right. That’s despite the running mascara and stage make-up we’d kept on because we weren’t sure if we could put it back on. Now, after the crying and emotional storms of the last two hours, I giggled, saying, “Do I look as raccoon-eyed as you do right now?”
Anza touched her face and looked at her mascara smeared fingers, and wiped it on my nose! We had a little wrestling match, and I was careful, because I knew how strong Mystery was. Yet that turned out to be the most peculiar thing. At first, I was concerned that I would be pulling doors from their hinges and breaking things left and right, and hurting Anza without meaning to, but it wasn’t like that.
For normal actions I just automatically used normal force. But when I wanted a lot of power, the upper limits of which I was capable were much, much higher. So when we wrestled I could tell I had the upper hand, but was aware of just how much strength I was using.
I had Anza pinned beneath me, then realized I fallen for the oldest feminine trap in the book. Next thing I knew, I was kissing her and both of her hands were on me. When I came up for air, the raw passion in Anza’s eyes, made me tingle madly in places I didn’t even have just a couple of hours before. Her hands came up and unbuttoned my blouse, freeing my breasts. I shuddered when she found places I didn’t know I had and the pleasure she gave me almost made me pass out.
Lovingly, I returned the favor. I discovered feeling your lovers emotions helps you know what you’re doing wrong and how to do it right. Anza’s cry of pleasure was proof it worked. Love is such a simple word for what I received and gave to her, my lover. It didn’t seem adequate enough.
Afterwards, cuddling on the still plastic covered couch, we just lay there in each others arms. ignoring the need to get ready for Morgan’s visit. I did my best to put my doubts behind me, but I feared the worst. The odds of a happy ending here were looking like a long shot.
When Anza propped herself up on one arm, to my delight, her breasts swung gently with the movement. There was no way Morgan wasn’t going to know what we’d done, because I could not only feel her contentment, I could see it. More, I was pretty sure I was glowing with the same contented pleasure as well.
After shamelessly displaying her charms, Anza asked, “Do you want to shower first, or do I?”
Seeing how she had seduced me, when she knew I wanted more time, I was more than willing to get a little revenge, so I purred back, “Why don’t you join me, and I can do your back?“ I raised an eyebrow and made what I hoped was a seductive pout.
My naughtiness was rewarded by her blush this time, and it was a good feeling. Following a good-hearted pillow fight, with the pillows still in the factory bags, we found the bathroom. Hygienic stuff was there, but it was clear that this room hadn’t been used yet.
Just another piece of the puzzle of this strange journey of ours. We unpacked and found shampoos, soap, conditioners and other supplies that our bodies now needed. I’m going to pass on describing my first experience using the potty. I’ll only say it was a little unnerving, regardless of my already finding the pleasant uses of my new plumbing.
Anza kept me from making mistakes like toweling off my hair and the fact that patting dry was more than just a good idea now, although I’ve read enough TG stories on-line to know some of it.
Cape, I found, was best thing since sliced bread. We couldn’t find towels but Cape could change into a nice fluffy thick one. I have no idea what Cape did with the water it absorbed, but it was dry when it clothed me in a comfortable robe. Anza had to streak though the house looking for clothes, and that almost led us to needing another shower.
We had come at our relationship backwards, and were still learning how to communicate and get along, AFTER we had fallen in love and lust with each other. I soon found when I was the instigator, she was the one who had to go on the defensive. Plus, it was fun, too! My male conditioning had been quiet, and I was content to bask in Anza’ attentions. Who wouldn’t? Ignorance is bliss after all.
We found our rooms by the contents. Anza’s had loads of clothes and shoes, while mine had only enough to act as a cover for having Cape. That’s right separate, bedrooms, which would argue against our relationship and closeness having been planned. There were other things that showed which was hers and mine, such as the different shades of make-up, for Anza was much darker than my pale skin, and shoe size.
The odd thing was, everything was new! Yep, still in the shopping bags. Even the clothes and shoes in the closets, although not in wrappings, had clearly never been worn. Additionally, there weren’t any personal effects, such as pictures or memento’s of times past. That made me wonder about Tony the Tiger's remark about talking with someone named Joey. Was that just a part of our cover, or had our characters really worked at this Hip Hugger place?
Anza was getting ready and putting her face on. Part of that was easy for me, I just told Cape to dress me! I was learning about Cape, because it would always dress me as sexily as it could if I didn’t specifically tell it differently. Morgan was still a guy, we think, and I was still uncomfortable in my role of a woman in the presence of guys. I told Cape I wanted jeans, and a t-shirt. Cape put me in a pair of skin-tight low rider designer blue jeans with a midriff showing pink t-shirt and 3” sandals. “Very funny,” I said aloud to Cape, and I swear it felt as if I hurt its feelings!
‘Here I am worrying about something controlling me, and here is Cape, tied right into my central nervous system.’ Sitting down in front of my vanity, I considered what I knew about Cape and my character’s origin. Cape had been inspired by the Shadow-Capes used by a member of the comic book superhero team “The Offenders”. Hellkitty could use her cloak to teleport, and could pull weapons from it, but what I liked best, was that the cape was able to act as if it was alive, by touching and grabbing things. You know the comic cliché of the cape blowing and flowing even when there wasn’t a wind blowing, and it should by the laws of physics hang limp.
I took that and the villain Zootoxin idea from Bug-Eye-Man and came up with, Cape. A symbiont that was alive and aided Mystery with some cool abilities like flight, and self-contained breathing apparatus among other things. Cape was intended to be loyal and with many of the abilities of a computer, though with only the emotional level of a smart dog. In many ways, Cape was meant to be both loyal guard dog and a friend that could shape itself into almost any form of clothing, as long as it was attached to her. So, Cape’s origin is fuzzy.
Gamers love to come up with original ideas for their characters, but with comic books having been around over 50 years, it’s a challenge. Some gamers just go with thinly disguised popular comic characters. If I had a dollar for every Wolfy claw-wielding knock-off I’ve seen, I could buy dinner for a large family. With Mystery, I’d tried to come up with parts from other origins, put together in a way which was unique, if not original.
Abandoned at an orphanage as a baby, with only a blanket, no one knew who her parents were or where they came from. When the priests found her, one said, “We have a little mystery here, and that is what the other priest wrote down,” Mercedes T. Reed.
The nuns noticed that baby Misty always had the same blanket, and no matter if they replaced it or took it away, the blanket always ended back up with the baby. One older nun saw the blanket stayed cleaned, and philosophically decided nothing was harmed, and it was God’s will. Misty, sometimes called Missy, had no trouble being adopted because it was obvious that she was going to be a beauty.
Missy’s new family had wanted her because of their problems in conceiving, and when science gave them the chance to have children of their own blood, Missy was more and more ignored. Missy knew Cape was the blanket she had been delivered to the orphanage in, and that she should keep Cape, her not so invisible friend, a secret.
It was no secret she had been adopted and with Cape’s help, she found the Misty T. Reed identity and decided she liked it. Growing up, she’d always had her powers, but Cape had helped her hide them. Several years later, after her beauty began making it tough on her in high school, she overdid the discouragement on a jock and put him in the hospital. Running away she took the name Misty T. Reed, Mystery!
She ran to the big city and took to life on the street. It was a comic book bit, because rather than be exploited and/or killed, she picked up good hearted, but down on their luck mentors, and became a streetwise heroine.
That’s where Mystery was when I started playing with Morgan, and Danny’s Esperanza. It was like a mixture of Super-Jock and the sexy streetwise version of Kitten-Woman. Unlike him, Mystery didn’t know if she was an alien or not, and didn’t turn to burglary to support herself like she did. I couldn’t say crime because, well, attacking drug dealers and other criminals and stealing from them is still a crime.
Since I never specified where Cape, or for that matter, Mystery came from, I didn’t know for sure if Cape was really friendly or not. Another part of the mystery, pardon the pun, was that Cape had seemed to accept me as Misty even though it was the guard dog protector.
Did that mean that we hadn’t stolen Missy’s and the others identities, and the real us had been transformed into our characters? Insufficient data, the pointy eared man would say. I did know having Cape with me felt, I don’t know, ‘nice’ is the only word that comes to mind. It didn’t feel as if Cape was mentally influencing me. I only felt the clear emotion Cape passed-on from others and Cape’s own feelings and affection, like the feeling of hurt when I reprimanded it for dressing me so sexily.
I tore open the things still in their packages, such as make-up, and found that having enough strength to defeat the mortal enemies of mankind paled besides being able to easily rip open sealed plastic coated merchandise. Self-satisfied I threw the normally impossible to open packaging away with a sense of a job well done.
I did my best to apply the cosmetics lightly in an as un-clown a manner as I could, but didn’t do so hot. Feeling Cape’s flicker of amusement, I cleaned my face with cold cream. Hey, I knew that much okay? *Right,* I told Cape, *you do it.* Remembering my still bare midriff, I amended, 'lightly, just for a friend coming over.'
I first felt surprise, as if it had never been asked this before, and then pleasure, as Cape was eager to show me what it could do. In the vanity mirror, I saw Cape the scarf, lengthen and form three separate ends of the same silk-like fabric. It then picked up the various cosmetics and went to work. It didn’t take long for Cape to complete its work, and it did look much better than my effort, professional even! There was a theme here, sexier than I wanted, but it did look good.
“Thank you Cape,” I said, “you did well.” I was a little unprepared for its mental purr of contentment at the compliment, and wondered if I needed to pet it?
I met Anza, who was searching for food, in the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, nothing had been put away, and besides a few canned goods there wasn’t anything to eat, although now that I had admitted my feelings for her, ‘she’ looked good enough to eat.
Wearing short shorts and a low-cut, cream colored top, she had on flat sandals, and with my heels, I was almost as tall as she. Making a mental note that figuring just how tall I was now was on the ‘to do’ list, I gave her a hug. We spared an admiring look at each other and repeated that telepathy thing when we both in sync said, “I’m hungry,” followed by the usual giggles!
Our mirth was interrupted by the door-bell, and we both hurried to the door. Anza peered through the spy hole, while I looked out the as-yet curtain-less window. Outside, I saw a taxi pulling away, and standing next to the door was a curvaceous auburn haired woman. I silently mouthed to Anza, “Morgan?”
Anza shrugged, an ‘I don’t know’, gesture. Hey, she really is supposed to be psychic.
I motioned her to open the door and saw that the rest of our guest’s appearance matched my brief glance. She was holding several bags marked with the Black Bull steak house logo. That made Anza’s and my stomach’s rumble at the enticing smell. The woman looked surprised when she saw us as we opened the door.
I reached forward with my slim hand as to shake hers and made the first gesture in Morgan’s and mine secret handshake. We both started smiling at each other as our hand’s moved in our old ritual, and I led her inside. Anza gave me that eyes rolling, 'boys will be boys' look as Morgan and I completed our handshake.
Morgan stood there for a moment looking at us, before saying, “Wow, the sight of both of you together is something else! I knew that like us, you had transformed into your characters, but seeing is believing!”
Morgan’s voice was a soft soprano, but even though I was curious as to what kind change she’d had, I was hungry. Using my southern accent to my advantage, I lisped, “Is that for little ole me?” pointing at the bags.
Morgan looked startled, then handed them to us, saying, “I thought maybe you would appreciate the grub.”
She didn’t have time to finish before we rushed off to the kitchen to unpack our goodies. Anza shouted over our shoulders, “Thank you!”
By the time, she had followed us in, we’d made a good start on putting it all on plates, and offered one to her.
Morgan waved her hand no, but watched us finish getting ready to eat.
I knew that some more of that peculiar telepathy, that Anza and I shared, was doing its stuff as we worked together, and I must say it was a pleasure, of a sorts, just to feel her presence there with me.
Morgan watched as we acted like a team getting the meal together and I felt he already suspected that something had happened between Anza and me. He said, “I didn’t know whether to get you guys salads or steaks, so I got both, considering what has happened.”
Anza and I cleared off a portion of our table so we could begin to eat. Morgan watched us with an amused look on her face and remarked, “I can see you two still have some guy left in you, the way you are devouring that poor cow.”
I was curious if Anza was going to take exception to this, because she had been preparing for her real life test, but she just waved a hand in a 'so-so' gesture.
Between mouthfuls I said, “Why don’t you tell us what happened with you and the others while we finish here? Then we’ll catch you up on our doings.”
Morgan nodded, and started, “Well the good news is Will and I found ourselves on the helipad, and not flying. Some news director rushed up to me wanting the tape we’d shot and once he got that, we were left alone. I did get a copy of it before we left, and truthfully, I don’t even know when I’m supposed to be back at ’work’,” she said, making quotation marks with her fingers, as she reached in her purse and revealed a video camera.
“I know that you two have already found out we have “powers” here, but here is some proof that superheroes and villains are real here.” She rotated the small video screen to face us.
I passed the ranch dressing to Anza without her asking, just as she reached out for it. I wasn’t even aware of it until I noticed Morgan staring at us. She raised an eyebrow and I shrugged, which caused my breasts to jiggle. She turned red and Anza popped me on the shoulder in reproach.
I giggled, “It was an accident!” Rubbing my shoulder softly I watched the tiny screen of the camera.
Morgan said, “That’s Question, the local brick, and leader of the Riverside Warders,” pointing to a large red costume man with a large white question mark on his chest. He was hanging half out of what looked liked a V-22 Osprey tilt-rotor. The V-22 was about hundred feet up when he swung himself out like one of those cliff-divers, feet together, but there wasn’t any water nearby just concrete! The camera panned down at the ground to focus on a gray clad over muscled guy that had an armored car door in one hand that he’d just ripped off of the truck.
Now we’ve all marveled at the computer generated images (CGI) from the Super-jock to Bug-man movies, but seeing that this wasn’t enhanced, just raw footage, impressed me a LOT.
She froze the picture for a moment, then continued the narration, “That’s Man-Mountain, a loner bad guy.” The camera view pulled back just as a red and white blur played pile-driver, driving him into the pavement. I could see the shockwave of the collision ripple away into the distance.
The Question rolled, after he impacted, and was quickly back on his feet a couple of feet away from the large instant pot-hole. Incredibly, Man-Mountain was still moving, and staggered to his feet, climbing from the debris on the street. Somehow he was still holding onto that door, and threw at the Question. Rather than dodge the missile, he spiked it volleyball like into the street. Question then looked as if he was making a demand. Because we didn’t have any sound, we had to guess what was happening.
Man-Mountain didn’t look happy and looked even less so as the camera zoomed off to the distance to show another costumed figure on the way. From what we could see, Question had this guy totally out-matched and his opponent knew it. Man-Mountain then leaped into the Question created pot-hole from hell, and just melted into the ground! The footage ended with a close-up of Question shaking his head in disgust.
I met Anza’s and Morgan’s eyes, and moaned, “We are so screwed aren’t we?”
Morgan looked at a graceful, red painted nail and became thoughtful, “Well, that depends on Horus, doesn’t it?
Anza motioned him to go on, and she said, “According to Mike, our mission was to help the Warders stop this new syndicate, and it might be a necessary requirement for us to go home. Horus was the one who gave us this mission, and it occurs to me that most of our characters come from different game worlds. It might be a cross-over situation.
What Morgan meant by this was that sometimes a group of GM’s will agree that what happens in one GM’s game will happen in theirs as well. This is a shared 'World', but many times a player with a character from a closed world, that’s one where only one GM controls a world’s events, will want to play in another GM’s game. To manage this, the plot devise of a crossover is used. The crossover is much used among the major comic companies, by taking their popular characters and teaming them with those of another company.
What this meant for us, was it was possible that aside from our covers from this Horus, that our characters had literally had not been born here, but were from different worlds, brought here by Horus for his mission.
We just might have to try and complete Horus’s mission, because we’d have no choice. Digesting this and our meal, I had an unpleasant idea, as Anza was saying to Morgan, “So you don’t think we’re in some type of computer simulation?”
“No I don’t,” Morgan replied, “Do you remember when were we creating our character drawings, how well they turned out? It was as if it was reading my mind though my Internet connection. For that to happen, it would need more band-width than even a DSL cable could carry, just to physically pass the information back and forth. I could be wrong, but I think someone, or some ‘thing’ was recruiting, using that computer program as a front.
“In a truly infinite universe, all things are possible,” I misquoted. “You know that in a demented quantum physics sense, conceiving an idea makes it real. To something that can sense and move across alternate worlds, it might have problems telling what is fiction and what is not.”
Seeing Morgan and Anza’s blank faces, I went on, “I mean, whoever or whatever did this might not be able to tell the difference between us and our creations. Look how it got us by using a fictional game and asking our help and …” I trailed off and slapped myself on the forehead, when I remembered the end-user agreement.
Morgan had that look on her face that said deep thoughts were in progress.
Anza looked at both of us as if we’d just grown horns. She put both hands on her prominent hips, “That’s it! You two fess up right now. Don’t you dare keep me in the dark!”
Morgan began, “There’ve been several novels out about wizards summoning people from our world on purpose, or by accident, because the spells weren’t specific enough or just didn’t fit our paradigm. This could all just be a screw up with a spell, or some sort of not so smart servant, who bungled the job.” Morgan made as if to push up glasses that were no longer there, then looked a little annoyed that she had forgotten about her improved eyesight and gotten caught.
I understood the feeling, because I was still getting used to hearing the sounds of paper moving, utensils scrapping on the plates and so forth again. Right now, I was more concerned about something I’d read, not heard. “Did you guii... girls read the user agreement at the 'Hero’s of Justice' website?” I asked. Almost no one ever reads those things. I had, but then I was strange.
Anza shook her head, sending her long dark hair, not to mention her other assets, bouncing. That definitely distracted me, which, of course, set her to giggling and me to blushing.
Morgan, who had her eyes closed in concentration, opened one to see what was up, gave us a disgusted look, and complained, “I’m trying to think here. Can you keep it down please?”
All that did was cause Anza and I to almost explode, holding in our compulsive giggling. I admit it, I failed first, and ended up rolling off my chair onto the floor, I was laughing so hard. Anza at least kept her seat, and Morgan joined in with a chuckle.
Looking at Anza, Morgan asked her, “I take it, she’s ticklish?”
Anza, grinning, replied, “Yes”, and blushed when she realized what she’d implied.
That didn’t help me at all, but just made me laugh more, till I began having problems breathing! Red faced, I finally was able to get back to my chair, and I felt full of good feelings for these two.
Dryly, Morgan said, “If you’re finished?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and enjoying the warmth of their friendship.
She said, “I didn’t read it, but I did look at it and I have a good memory. I take it you’re referring to the agreement, that ended with 'Do you agree to use your powers in the cause of justice and to help others in the multi-verse, fight evil and right wrongs?”
“That’s the one,” I said, “Right next to the, “I attest to this being a legally binding agreement.”
Anza was gaping at us, “You’re kidding, Right?”
“Nope,” Morgan said, “That’s what all of us who created our characters on that website agreed to. Which brings up another question. Like what happened to Mike? I’m sure there was some sort of similar agreement for him, since he was the one who bought the actual software and game.”
“There’s a chance that Mike might have become this Horus character,” I said. “I don’t recall Horus saying anything about a way of reaching him on these phones, do you?” I looked at Anza and Morgan.
They shook their heads, but Anza said, “Esperanza does have a mind-sweep power that I could try, but if I do, everyone in the area who is PSI sensitive will know that someone with PSI powers is about.”
Seeing that neither Anza nor I liked that idea very much, Morgan said, “We might have the powers of our characters, but none of us have the right mind-set for this. From our reactions today, we are still us, just in the bodies of our characters. We seem to have access to their powers, and maybe some of their skills as well. But before we start revealing ourselves to others, we need a lot more information.”
I added, “Mike knew where our characters were going to be, and a lot of other details, we didn’t know. For now, I think we have to trust that if he is here, he’ll find us. If he is Horus, he might have a number to get in contact with us, and be unable to do so right now. We had the phones, but were so disoriented, it was well over an hour before we got our act together. I think we need to wait, for now.”
Anza said, “Well that’s one more thing to add to our list of things to do. We need to find out what we can and can’t do. In two days,” she said, pointing to herself and me, “we are supposed to 'dance' in a topless erotic club, and she can barely walk in those,” pointing at the heels I was wearing.
“Not to mention Will is supposed to be able to fly a ‘copter, with you in it,” I said to Morgan.
“Add that to Tom, running a company when the most he’s done is operate a one man repair shop,” Morgan replied.
Anza giggled, “Or the ace reporter who knows a lot about taking vital signs, but not so much about interviews. At least all Mark needs to do is drive the limo and look tough.”
“We need to buy some time to figure out what we can really do, and find out if Mike is Horus, in the short term,” stated Morgan
“Finding out if we are here for the long term, and whether or not we displaced anyone from these bodies is also a priority,” I added.
We need to know if we have a choice about being superheroes, or if we can walk away, and what the consequences of that might be,” Anza added.
Anza and I looked at Morgan, “Now that the plan of action is on the table, why did you need to see us without the guys?”
Morgan looked uncomfortable, and looked as if s/he didn’t know where to start. Anza reached over and softly held a hand. “This is us, the oddballs. We are here for you if you let us.”
I reached over and placed my hand on top of theirs, “We have all had secret desires and hopes revealed today. Take courage, and we will be with you.”
I took Anza’s other hand in mine, and told them, “I found my fondest dream, and I am scared silly that it will turn out just to be a dream.
Looking Anza in the eyes, “With Morgan as my witness, I don’t know how or why I feel the way I do, but I love you, Anza.”
Her eyes was shining bright with tears, she reached over and kissed me softly. She looked over at Morgan, “That’s our secret, and now you can tell us yours.”
Morgan looked a little shocked, “I thought that maybe you fooled around a little, because the two of you look so hot, but not this. This just started today?”
I nodded, “Yes, at first I thought it was just lust like you said, but both of us are empathic.”
Anza said, “We think that, helped along by how attractive we found each other, may have caused a “bonding” effect.”
“I am still resisting a bit, but it’s hard when you KNOW how the object of your affections feels. It’s somewhat like having all of the emotional depth of a long term intimate relationship, without the real-life lessons learned reaching there,” I said.
“I don’t know why you have to complicate things! It was just love at first sight!” Anza giggled as she pointedly looked at my breasts, causing me to blush again as I remembered.
Changing the subject I told Morgan, “See? What can you tell the guys that will cause a worse reaction than this? ‘So give, girlfriend!’ as Anza would say.”
Morgan’s green eyes and auburn hair danced as, she said, “Well, back home I had some medical problems growing up. Are you familiar with the term intersexed?”
Anza and I nodded. Like many of the transgender community, we had an interest in sexual differences from the norm. Intersexed meant having characteristics of both sexes.
Morgan continued, “I had a testicle and an ovary. The doctors decided that physically I had more male parts then female ones and removed the ovary. I haven’t had the problems some others have had, but I’ve always been curious about what would’ve happen if I’d been left alone.”
“When you two started playing your 'Girls Want to Have Fun' characters I felt that I had a chance to harmlessly explore that. I never wrote it on the character sheet, but it’s like that program read my mind for what I intended,” Morgan said.
Anza, still holding Morgan’s hand gestured at her to go on.
Morgan took a deep breath, “When you said girlfriend, you were only half right. It seems I’m a fully functioning hermaphrodite. I can shift my appearance from fully feminine to all male. I have both sexes in what you could call my third form or the ‘at rest‘ one. I never intended on doing this to myself, I was just curious. The problem is. I don’t know any more about being female, than Greg here does, aside from some theater work in college.
Anza asked, “Are you sure about the functioning part? You would have a strange body chemistry, if so.”
Morgan blushed, “I’m sure. It felt weird but I had to know how far the change went.”
“We’re not trying to embarrass you.” Anza comforted Morgan getting up and hugging her.
“Morgan, what’s your character’s origin? Maybe that will help us figure this out,” I asked
“Well, my character's Mom was a geologist who was exploring a deep cave network, when she got separated from the rest of her group. Trying to find them she ran across these really unusual crystal formations. These crystals were sentient, and were able to communicate with my mother. They wanted to see the outside world and worked a deal with her so she would carry a crystal with her and they would see though it.
“They also wanted to know what it was like being mobile, so they implanted a crystal into her unborn child so it would send back to them as well, but send all its sensations, not just sight. In my unofficial history, it was twins and they merged, creating a hermaphrodite. As I grew older, the crystals became able to turn me into crystal, as well as control my gender aspects,” Morgan explained.
“So it’s the crystal that lets you control your body change functions? It might also be able to keep you from getting pregnant. Do you have any communications from the crystal implant or from the ‘Mother’ crystals?” I asked.
Morgan shook her auburn curls. “I’d intended for the crystals to just be just ‘watchers,’ and for the implant to become a part of the whole when it integrated.”
I could see she need more support so I move closer to her too. It was strange seeing this unfamiliar face, but I could see Morgan’s mannerisms in her. The empathy from Cape helped too I think. The feelings of confusion and just plain being hit with too much at one time, was a feeling I understood all too well!
“Morgan, are you dealing with this alright?” asked Anza
She nodded, “The guys have been deferring to me as a de-facto leader for now. Of course I was male then. They haven’t seen me like this yet. So I’ve kept too busy to really think about it except for a little experimentation.”
“Morgan,” Anza warned, “I want to know how YOU are feeling with this. I can’t help but feel something of what you’re feeling because of my powers. It does act like another sense that I can’t turn off. I’ll not violate your privacy, but you are all but screaming in my face, in an empathic way. You are a friend, too. We…,” Anza gestured at me, “want to help. You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”
“If you’re talking suicide, no. Wanting to get blind drunk to push some of these feeling away for a while, yes!”
“What about you, Anza? I’m not feeling anything alarming, but how are you coping with your powers? I didn’t know you were feeling them like that.” I turned to her.
“It’s kinda weird, but I can feel what’s going on with you two, and I know it’s not me feeling it. I think I could look deeper, but that would invade you guys’ privacy,” she said. “I’ve read some of the same things you guys have about telepaths going crazy with all the 'voices' in their heads, but all I really feel inside is satisfaction that I’m a real girl!”
“Speaking about going crazy,” I asked, “how is Tom doing?”
“I think he’s beginning to get a handle on that hyperactivity of Streeter’s,” Morgan said. “Mark and Will, being so buff, are enjoying themselves quite a bit, I think. They wanted to go clubbing, but I talked them into staying with Tom for tonight. You’ve got to see him to how big Will is now. He’s built like a tank, and Mark is almost as bad.”
Anza, looked at Morgan, “And us?” she asked.
“Well you two are coping pretty well, all things considered. Danny, you’re enjoying your change and Greg’s still bouncing around emotionally, but you two are helping each other. Me? This caught me unprepared, but it is nice to be able shift back and forth from male to female,” Morgan said introspectively.
Anza took a deep breath, which made me catch mine. Then she asked, “But do you want to go back home?”
Morgan blinked a couple of times as she dealt with the implications. “I take it that means you don’t?”
Shaking her head, “The best I could hope for there, would be for the finances to work out so I could have surgery. Here, I’m a real girl with all the options.” She took my hand, before she continued, “Missy has brought up some moral issues and there’s this whole superhero business.” Looking as emotional as I’d seen her so far, she went on, “My family has disowned me. So if I can stay here with Missy without hurting anyone? No, I don’t want to go back.”
Holding Anza’s hand, I nodded, too, “Subject to qualifiers, me too. I’m not close to my family, and they don’t understand me at all.” I squeezed her hand softly, “All of my wildest dreams are true here, but I need to know what’s expected of us.”
Morgan tried to push up hir non-existent glasses again, looking at Danny and me, “Anza and Missy?”
We both nodded as I felt my eyes mist up again. “We never had the chance to be the people we really were inside. Anza and Missy will work for us until we learn more about who we are,” I told her.
She held our hands, “I don’t know if I want to stay this way. It’s nice for a visit, but I don’t think I would like not seeing my folks again. I understand why you feel the way you do, though. Like I said before, we might have to fight this syndicate to get home, and we’re not fighters. We have a nurse, one paramedic, ex-military spook, an auto-mechanic, a fork-lift operator, and a sheet-metal worker.”
Sighing she went on, “I don’t know about the guys. Back in our world, Mark is seeing someone, and Tom’s engaged. Will works such crazy hours and stays out in his parent’s garage. He might want to stay, but I don’t know for sure.” Looking pensive, Morgan said, “You know, it might be an all or nothing deal? We all go or we all stay?” she said quietly.
Anza replied, “I won’t keep anyone from going home. I’ll go with everyone else, but I would like to stay.”
I said, “That’s we, and us, and goes for me as well. Besides, we’re jumping the gun here. There’s too much that we don’t know yet, about everything! We do need to meet up with everyone so we can see them and they can see us. That said, we need some more time to work through what’s going on.
“If we are going to have to … to dance … topless? … I’m going to need more girl-time before I can even think about doing something like that without wetting myself! Not to mention, we need to put some exercise togs on and see how close these bodies match the character sheets.”
Anza and Morgan were nodding in agreement as she switched to her male mode, pulled out his phone, and called the guys. I had seen morphing in movies before, but it happened so fast with Morgan you couldn't see any details. One eye blink there's this woman there and the next, this guy!
While she was doing that, Anza and I cleaned-up from our dinner, and started looking for curtains or drapes. With all that had happened, we needed some privacy, and that meant covering up those windows!
We learned that unpacking and putting up stuff is a lot easier with super-powers! Puttering around, and straightening up this and that, kept us busy. I learned a little more about walking in heels and carrying things at the same time, and Anza found out that she could levitate several objects at once.
Morgan asked, “Is it cool to meet with the whole gang at the mall tomorrow?”
In our own ways, we signaled yes, and carried on with the task of trying to find the floor of this place. It didn’t take long to get the front room clear enough to hang out in. Anza had connected up the TV and some other entertainment stuff. I looked for a computer or laptop, but didn’t find one. I was curious, since our real names were listed on our phones, to find out what would happen if I checked my old email. That was one more thing for tomorrow’s list.
I had Morgan make herself comfortable on the sofa while I went to grab some refreshments, but found Anza had beaten me to it by bringing in some wine glasses and a bottle of wine. We didn’t reach that blinding drunk Morgan had said she wanted, but we were all pleasantly floating, despite whatever super-enhancements govern such things.
Anza put Morgan in my room after she went to sleep, while I found blankets for us all. She could use her telekinesis to move Morgan more comfortably than I could. Then we went to her room and went to bed.
Morgan drowsily cocked open an eye, hearing her hosts enthusiastic cries, but couldn’t find it in herself to feel ill towards them. There was a bit of wistfulness, but her happiness for her friends was more important. Morgan snuggled deeper into the covers and returned to sleep.
Heroes of Justice: Discoveries
I found the morning full of discoveries. Anza was not a morning person, and wasn’t civilized until that second cup of coffee. Morgan, horrors, was a morning person and far worse, was cheerful. In our old world, I hadn’t been all that old, but had already picked up some of those lasting aches that waking up in the morning makes you all too aware of first thing. This morning I woke feeling wonderful! Get your mind out of the gutter! Waking up next to Anza was very nice, too.
Morgan had made some instant coffee and it had the magical effect of pulling Anza, half asleep, into the kitchen to get some. All three of us were hungry, but there wasn’t much left of Morgan’s gift from the night before, so it was decided we needed to go out to eat before meeting the guys.
We found some casual stuff in my closet to fit Morgan’s female form, and Cape dressed me, SEXILY casual, of course. Anza pouted when she saw how we were dressed, and went back to her room to change from the dress and heels to something more casual. Another discovery of the morning, it really does take women longer to get ready!
Thinking ahead, I got my keys and started the flower-power-car while Anza was still fussing over her make-up. Having Cape do mine for me was a delicious cheat! It was also good to know that I wasn’t an open book to her mind-reading thing! She was wondering how I got my make-up looking so good, but hadn’t connected it with Cape yet. Morgan, no surprise, managed the dressing and make-up quite well. Was there anything, she didn’t do well?
Not knowing New Riverside at all, we set the GPS/Map gadget for the mall and stopped at the first breakfast place we saw on the way, an International House of Waffles. It was embarrassingly funny, that Anza warned Morgan and I that we had to watch our figures now, and she’s the one that kept eying everyone else’s plate. I ordered the most chocolate filled breakfast I could get away with. Now I’ve always been a chocoholic, but I couldn’t get enough now. For three young women trying to watch their figures, we had far too many plates on our table! When Morgan gave an apoplectic look at us and ordered dessert, I couldn’t let her get away with that, so I got one too.
Besides, eating let me ignore all the looks we were getting, and they weren’t peeking at what we eating, either, unless they were looking to see if we had spilled food on ourselves, if you know what I mean. I’m not trying to be a prima-donna, but I was the best endowed of the three of us. Anza had the best posterior and legs, but Morgan, with her auburn hair and emerald green eyes, had the face that launched a thousand ships. At least some of the stories I’ve read on-line help me grasp what was going on, but it still made me uncomfortable.
We made sure to tip our server well, and headed towards the mall. Together we had a couple hundred dollars in cash, but didn’t have anything else. There were those ATM cards, but I wasn’t sure what the PINs would be. It looked like on our first full day as girls, that the shopping trip would have to wait. Besides, if I remember right, all I needed to do was find an outfit I liked, and Cape would memorize it. Isn’t having super-powers grand?
Turning on to Clairmont Dr., I could see the signs for the mall. Almost simultaneously I felt Cape’s alarm and Anza squeaked a warning, “Watch out!”
The entire pack of cars in front of us slammed on their brakes, some fishtailing madly. I guess I still have some guy inside still, because I was assuring my passengers that I had everything under control.
Anza squeaking still, “Not them, that!” pointing at a falling dot on the windshield.
A dot that was growing as it fell towards us. “Aw Crap!” I looked for some way to avoid the, yep, it was a Camry, and it was falling right at us. We were blocked in front and back, and couldn’t even turn.
Lights exploded in my face as instead, something rammed us from the side, and the airbags deployed! Deployed, what kind word is that for being slapped in the face by a bag of compressed air? I could feel though Cape that Anza and Morgan were okay, but I was feeling really weird.
It’s a cliché, but everything slowed downed and seem to take on a hard-edged pinkish tint. Looking to my right, I found that a large man in a red and white costume had slammed into us, pushing us out of the way of that pinwheeling flying Camry. In amazement I watched as, NO, it wasn’t Santa, did something like judo to redirect the impact of the car. Wrecked? Yes beyond any doubt. Crushed, with the people within dead? No.
When I saw the large white question mark on his chest, I realized that this was the Question. He still had parts of the Camry hanging off of him. He was checking the driver of the Camry, and he then looked over at us, I think. He was wearing some sort of solid face mask that was fashioned like a human face, but didn’t have openings I could see, so it was hard to tell.
He looked over the car, and then at me. I heard a deep male voice say, “Nice car” and he then tensed up and leaped 20 or 30 feet into air, heading in the direction from which the flying Camry had come.
Still in shock I crammed my head out the window to see what he’d been looking at. WOW! Despite being rammed in the side, Flower-power-car didn’t even have the paint chipped! Maybe there was more to it than I had first thought.
Back inside the car, Morgan was pointing out to a sheepish Anza that she could’ve used her Telekinesis to stop that Camry, instead of yelling at me to do something. She was climbing out and heading for the wreck, being paramedic trained. Anza grabbed the small first aid kit from Flower-Power and hurried over behind her.
Following Morgan’s directions I removed what was left of the door, so she and Anza could reach the driver. Professionally, the two of them checked the driver for injuries and eased him out of the wrecked Camry. They might have superhero powers, but their training and personalities were that of a paramedic and an ER nurse.
I looked around and saw that no one had noticed our good Samaritan-ship yet, but this was the age of camera phones. I tapped Anza on the shoulder and our telepathy tripped on again. It was a lot faster than talking, and she did some sort of TK thing that caused a mask to appear.
Morgan glanced up, and sighed. “I hate to admit it but you two are right, ‘hero time’ it is.” She shimmered and became that living crystal form s/he had told us about. If you thought that a diamond the size of a marble was dazzling, you have no idea what it is to see one the size and shape of a beautiful woman!
Cape changed me into our costume, and I kind of wish it had just provided me with a disguise. It could prove to be hazardous to my health to look like an obvious heroine.
Anza used her TK to lift the guy out of the Camry, and thankfully he was the only casualty so far. Morgan had discovered that diamond sharp fingernails were useful to cut away clothing from wounds. I unclipped the blue-tooth style headset that had an easy to find walkie-talkie selector switch. 911 was the first call I made and they told me that rescue vehicles were already on the way.
We could hear the battle taking place somewhere up ahead, and while my friends were busy aiding their patient, I let them know about the phones. “I’m going closer, to see if anyone else is trapped.
At Anza’s projected worried thought, I said, “Don’t worry! I’ll be careful and won’t get involved in the fight. You two are useful here, but I’m not. I can scout, and try to get some of these people out harm’s way.” I saw Morgan make the old 'keep your head down' hand signal. I shot her a 'thumbs up' and headed to the sound of the guns, as Kipling would say.
I saw some heads bobbing out of windows as drivers craned to see what was happening. Now my costume is stylistic medieval armor, red tinted mail, with pauldrons, gorget, and other solid parts a metallic blue. The boots and greaves are red with metallic blue metal inserts. My identity is kept safe by a combination of make-up and a domino mask. Top all of this off with a Royal Blue flowing Cape and I made an imposing figure. Did I mention the 3 inch heels on the boots?
It was all smoke and mirrors, courtesy of Cape. All of this had the appearance of armor but not the mass and weight. I don’t think Cape knew anything about the laws of conservation of mass and energy, because it sure did ignore it a lot!
Urging people to leave their cars for the hopeful safety of a nearby strip mall, I walked forward, keeping calm to prevent panic, at least I hoped I was. Cape was feeling a little impatient, but hey, I wasn’t wanting to get into a fight here! I radioed back to the girls that I was sending people to the strip mall out of harms way, but hadn’t seen anyone one else hurt.
Unfortunately, that didn’t last long. Up ahead I found a Ford mini-van that looked as if someone had hit with it an anti-tank gun. The entire front end, including the motor, was crushed. The driver was a young mother who was unconscious and had been wedged in tight when the front collapsed. There was a baby in the back crying, and thankfully, it looked all right.
Calling Morgan, she said, “Get the baby out, but remove the entire baby seat carefully, don’t rock it around. If there are injuries, the seat should help support it.”
I could hear the crashing of the battle going on and we felt that there was less chance of death if I got everyone out now! They were moving up now, having found someone to watch their first patient. Thank God, Morgan had battlefield medical training!
I had to force the non-sliding passenger door open, and with Cape’s help, I got the baby out. I was beginning to notice that there were times when I asked it to do things that apparently it hadn’t been asked to do before, because I could “feel” the surprise and delight. Cape was like an overeager child or dog wanting to help. This time I asked for a “sharp edge” to cut the seatbelt securing the child seat.
Sure enough, Cape was surprised, but produced a blade from one of my gauntlets that did the job just fine. Not too far away was one of those low brick walls used as a sign for a bank next to the strip mall, and after letting the girls know where it was, I put the baby-seat behind it. Stuff was beginning to fly my way again. I couldn’t even see what was causing it to come my way, but it must be one hell of a fight!
I was determined that this kid would still have a mother when this was finished and stayed next to the poor woman trapped within, praying for Morgan and Anza to hurry. Cape started deflecting some of the smaller flying debris and taking its cue, I started trying to do so myself. This was not a lark. These things were whizzing around like bullets!
A fragment or two spranged off of my armor (Cape?), but I was getting the hang of it! True to form, the pieces got bigger and head sized missiles were zooming all over! Cape was kind of acting like a ‘combat information center’ on a Navy ship. CIC would provide information on what was coming in from where and how dangerous it was, so the best decision on how to deal with it could be made.
This was the first time that I’d had a chance to experience just how different I was now. The speed and agility I had now was exhilarating! Part of the strangeness for all of this was that while I was now a woman, I was much stronger than before.
I got a glimpse of the author of all of this when I saw the over-muscled lump of Man Mountain careen into a tractor trailer so violently that it exploded! He passed all the way though it like a bullet though Jell-O â„¢ and vanished out of sight. A tall woman carrying a huge two handed mallet leaped over a row of cars after him.
Being busy keeping one of those tractor’s tires from smashing into my charge, I didn’t see what happened to them next. I was concerned about the baby, too, but it looked okay behind that sign. Cape started warning me about a threat coming my way, but wasn’t screaming red alert. I decided to keep on playing Missile Commander for Mom.
The flood of missiles had almost stopped when a foot slapped me in the face. I say slapped, because it didn’t really hurt just kinda stung a bit. The foot belonged to a Hispanic woman dressed all in black leather who landed rather arrogantly next to the mini-van.
“Hey chica! We came for Man O’muscles, but we’ll take two for the price of one,” She had more than a little accent. She was just begging for me to hit her, but I didn’t want to fight. It’d just been a few seconds since I’d talked to the girls, but I was wishing they would hurry!
“When I scented your power, I knew that this was going to be a good day. I want that bonus, so why don’t you come along with me and join up with the syndicate like a good little chica?” she threatened.
‘This just gets better and better. She is some sort of telepath able to sniff out superpowers or something, but might be much more, since she is trying to goad me into attacking first.’ The only hand to hand training I’d ever had was a bit in boot camp, and some Hapkido from being stationed in Korea some years back. Hell, I was still trying to walk comfortably in these 3 inch stilts.
“I’m not interested in your syndicate or in being a criminal, and I don’t want to fight anyone, so please, just go away,” I said to her.
“So you’re just Mary Poppin’s looking out for Snow White over there,” she answered scornfully. She turned and struck the van!
“Hey, don’t do that, she’s hurt!” I warned her.
“Or you’re going to do what, chica?” she smiled nastily.
Trying to think of some way to get rid of this Bi---witch without a fight, and failing, I fell back on an old Nuke Cnorris line, “I’ll hit you with so many lefts you’ll beg for right,” I boasted.
With an ugly little laugh the Bi--witch kicked the van again, harder, “Oh I’m so scared! Is Mary Poppins going to hit me now?”
Hoping that Anza was doing her telepathy thing with me, I sent, “I've got a witch threatening the mom over here, and I’m going to try and lure her away. Sorry about not keeping my promise not to fight.”
I threw a punch at her, expecting her to dodge or block, which she did with ease. Hitting her wasn’t what I wanted to do. I just wanted her to stop striking the van. She skipped backwards, throwing a kick at me.
We danced awhile and I was getting the feel of this, like with the missiles. My reflexes were much faster now. Add in Cape’s ability to predict her attacks, and it was easy. What made it hard was that I was still learning how to move with these “hips” and the longer legs. It was weird, being awkward and superior all at once.
The whole thing reminded me of an issue of ‘Bug-Eyed’-Man where he was facing some kung-fu guys, and although they had training, his speed was just so much faster he could fake everything they could do and was a lot stronger.
She was figuring that out, too. Apparently she expected me to be a compete neophyte at this, because of my attitude and clumsiness, but I had the abilities and powers of a very experienced roughhouser. To my faster senses it was if I had all the time in the world to figure what my next move would be.
Frankly, as long as we were moving away from the Mom, I was doing my job. The witch had decided to try something new, but Cape gave me warning as her hand sparkled red. When I dodged her blow, it smashed into a window shattering the safety glass.
Morgan radioed me that they had the baby and were moving the Mom. I acknowledged, when she said, “Since it’s no use pretending that we’re going to able to not fight, just take that bimbo out and stop playing with your food.”
The witch had decided that I was too much for her, and was making a break for it. What the hey, I used my flight to leap over her and engulf her in Cape to suffocate her. Caught by surprise, she did struggle, but was soon unconscious. I avoided doing any permanent damage by using Cape to sense when she was out.
A short distance away in the wreckage of the Mall’s parking lot I could see Question was battling a clawed snake-man with wings. It gave a whole new meaning to going at someone tooth and nail, because that was exactly what ‘Scaly’ was doing. The Question looked if he was having a tough time fighting him, as the snake was wrapped around him like a boa constrictor.
I didn’t think I could help, besides I wasn’t here to fight! Still carrying the witch wrapped in Cape, I went back to the trapped mom and her minivan. Morgan and Anza had gotten her free and were working on her. Trying to think of a way to restrain my Hispanic sparring partner, I looked down at my costume and got an idea.
*Cape, can you alter her clothes to bind her so she can’t move?* I asked.
What I got back was another feeling somewhat like, *Oboy, Oboy, yeah, yeah, I do good, (pant, pant)!”
A second or two passed, and this time I definitely felt a drain, so at least of some the energy Cape used, came from ME. Then it released the witch and immediately my face turned very red!
The sniffer was still dressed in black leather, but now it covered her from neck to toe, with the pants becoming a hobble skirt down to her ankles, with black boots locked together with small chains. Her top wasn’t much better, with a skin tight corset and her arms bound together with black straps and buckles. She gave the appearance of just coming from a bondage flick. No, I don’t want to know where Cape had learned about that “outfit”!
Morgan and Anza were looking at me in speculation, and all I could do was stand there in opened mouthed denial. I had not intended something as provocative as that. Meanwhile, they had gotten the mom free of the wreckage. Anza, using her TK moved her out of street. Morgan was carrying the baby and I had the witch.
I felt Cape’s warning a split second before Anza’s TK force screen sprang to life. “We have company coming,” I told Morgan. “It might be some of her friends,” I pointed at the witch.
Morgan a little exasperatedly, “Then drop her, we’ve got our hands full.”
I really didn’t want to, because I was afraid that she might be able to find us now that she had a ‘scent’ to follow. I sighed, for Morgan did have a point. It was a question of short term advantage versus long term problem. I didn’t drop her on the payment. I placed her there thank you very much. Please, no charges of brutality!
It was about then a big red boot caught me in the face. I had just enough time to throw up a hand before I went flying away to crash into a car. “The insurance companies sure aren’t going to like this’, the silly thought came to me as I crunched into a Honda.
Blinking away stars, I saw I wasn’t hurt, but I’d sure felt that! The owner of that boot was dressed in a red costume and moved in a way that told me we had trouble. He was a big fellow, somewhere near seven feet, and moved in that flowing way hard trained fighters have.
I had just enough training to know a few key secrets. When skill and reflexes are equal, size does matter. Yeah a little guy can sometimes take down a much larger man, but that’s when he has the skill and the bigger one doesn’t. The third leg of the secret of fighting is intent. If you are intent on hurting your opponent and don’t care how much you have to get hurt to do it, you have an advantage. That’s why suicide bombers are so damn dangerous. They are willing to die to hurt YOU!
Big Red looked to have two of the three on his side. Unfortunately, for him, it was my lover he was going after. Morgan had just turned, when he round-house kicked her, and the baby went flying! I threw myself forward, tying to reach it when the baby slowed and stopped as Anza’s TK dragged it behind her force screen.
I used my new speed and strength to try to make up the difference in skill, but he was a much better fighter than the witch had been. The yellow belt I’d earned wasn’t enough, as Big Red blocked my every strike. My only advantage was Cape being able to give me enough warning to at least partially block his return blows. Too much like that old Baffey Buck cartoon quote “Ha! Ho ha! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! (*sproinggggg!*!),” I missed a block, and flew spinning away, giving another insurance appraiser a job as I smacked into yet another car.
Big Red then spun around and threw a kick at Anza! She’d been steadily moving away, but damn didn't he move fast! The good news was her screen held, but the bad news was that she was carrying the baby and the mom, as well as keeping the screen up. He wound up to strike her again, and missed seeing the line of burning asphalt that was heading for him.
I turned and saw Morgan guiding a beam of light onto Big Red. He jerked around when it connected and that was when she cut loose! She was still in crystal form and was kinda glowing, sparkling-like. The light was coming from her hand. When she had it on target, all of that light concentrated itself into a single beam that left afterimages in my eyes.
Up to then he hadn’t said a thing. He sure screamed now, and I’m not even going to talk about the smell.
I ran over to Anza, yelling “I’m going to carry you, hang on!” Cape wrapped around her like a harness and I took off flying as fast as I could. She was still TK carrying mom and the baby so I couldn’t fly too high. My character sheet said that Mystery could fly about 45 mph. All I know is that by the time we got to where the EMS was, I heard one hell of a big crash from where I’d left Morgan. Crap!
Leaving Anza behind, I took off, heading back to my friend. She was laying unconscious, half in half out of a seriously totaled Chevy and Big Red was studying how to get the witch loose from her new clothes. I flipped in the air and changed my flight into a drop kick aimed for his damn head. I felt the impact from my feet clean to my teeth, and saw lights flashing in my eyes for a moment.
I had finally knocked him down, but he was still moving. I wasn’t about to give him the chance to recover and ran over just in time to eat that damn boot again. Does sucker mean anything to you?
Pulling myself to my feet, I could see he had a really nasty looking burnt looking wound from Morgan. What I didn’t like was the look in his eye, which told me that he was starting to get pissed. He didn’t walk toward me so much as he slid smoothly.
I glanced over in Morgan’s direction hoping that she had come to. That was a mistake. I never saw the boot that smashed me in the face.
Up till now I guess that Cape and my natural toughness had kept me from feeling any real pain from this fracas. I sure as hell felt it now. Cape was gently tapping my face, trying to get me moving when I was able to shake the daze away.
Lying in the wreckage of a Dodge, covered in broken safety glass, I moaned. Considering that Big Red had trashed a car with my flying body, a split lip and a bleeding nose wasn’t doing too badly.
Now try to understand that I’m not a violent person, but being able to fly, and the other superhuman stuff was fun! Power-tripping was a word I had never really understood until now! Unfortunately, it was also short lived.
Snaking out of the broken glass and twisted metal, I froze. Looking behind me I saw a broken body that had taken my crash a lot harder than I had. I think it was a guy, but with all of the blood, it was hard to tell. If it hadn’t been for Anza’s mental voice shouting at me though our bond, I don’t think I would have been able to do anything at all.
She had felt my shock and we merged for a moment. I felt her concern, because she had been terrified that something BAD had happened to me. Seeing a man so mangled he couldn’t be recognized was a new experience for me, and not a nice one. Seeing one that was that way because of me, was beyond shocking.
Anza got me moving, and with the still new and strange bond we shared, she 'told' me what to do. The weird thing was Cape, acting as if Anza was talking to it to as we stopped the bleeding and Cape merged and transformed the wounded man’s clothes into bandages and pressure-dressings.
The remainder of my shock was wiped away, when a large red gloved hand grabbed Cape and yanked us from the car! I could feel Cape’s shock and shame that it had let someone sneak up on us, but it was a measure of the depth of our merge with Anza.
“At first I thought you were just a piece of fluff, pretty, but beneath my notice. I see now that perhaps there is more to you in spite of your misplaced compassion for inferiors. Once I saw how you had redecorated my Hispanic companion, I could see that you have potential.” Big Red’s arrogant and cultured voice poured like syrup.
You might be laughing out there, but I could 'feel' the charisma coming from him like a furnace. Those were damn lousy pick-up lines, but I’d been a real girl for less than two days. Never having been the object of such before, I was a little confused. Oh yeah, covered in blood and still in a daze from Anza’s rapport might had something to do with it, too.
“Come with me. Stop your useless fighting and I’ll be merciful to your companions. You may call me Persuader,” the big man in red finished with a flourish.
The way the charm came off of him was overpowering, in a too much aftershave kinda way. As powerful as it was he had a few things working against him. I was bonded to a very powerful telepath who was still in rapport with me, and the blood of the person I had crashed into because of him was still wet on my hands. All in all, he didn’t have a chance in hell.
Kicking my legs up with Cape to support me, I kicked Persuader in the face as hard, and as fast as I could. It made me think of the 'Matrix' movie and the “I know Kung Fu” scene. My anger sort of used it as a template for my fury as I executed an impossible forward flip over Persuader, while continuing to kick him in the head.
The 'Matrix' had used wire work and CGI effects to fake all of those outrageous fighting moves. With Cape, and my new strength, I didn’t need any stinking wires. Spinning around using Cape to defy gravity, I pounded his kidneys as hard as I could.
I was letting my temper drive me, but was still a bit in control. Big Red reeled under my onslaught and I gave him all of the frustration and anger that had been bottled up for a long time. Don’t let this fool you about me being a great fighter, NOT! Surprise, and just opening the plain old proverbial can of “Whoop-Ass” had him back on his heels, but certainly not out of the game.
It didn’t take long to prove that point, as he struck me with what I think was a one-two combination. Hard to tell which, with the lights in my head blinking off and on. This time I knew that letting myself hit a car was a BAD thing, and Cape, following my wishes acted like a drag-chute on a top fuel dragster.
Ouch, my poor face! I could feel it hurting, but really didn’t care. He had such a dumb-founded look on his face as I regained my senses and landed lightly. Cape must be a part attack-dog, because I felt its “Let’s kick his Ass” response.
Getting set to make Cape happy, I heard a male growl on my headset that had somehow stayed with me, “Heads up!” Cape gave me a warning to duck, as three hundred pounds of snarling were-wolf went bulleting over my head! Shit, it was Wolfen! The guys are here.
If I’d thought the look on Persuader’s face was priceless when Cape stopped me from crashing, the look when Wolfen hit him was a work of art! Still being too angry to sit this out, I leaped at Big Red and got passed by the gold suited Streeter, rocketing by whirling his side handled police baton like tonfas.
With Wolfen drooling all over the top of Persuader, Streeter smacked his right knee with his clubs. Taking a clue from this, I had Cape alter my leap into a flying kick at the other kneecap!
It might have worked, too, but for one little problem. Mark was a sheet metal worker, and he was trying to intimidate this guy into, well, giving up. The guy, however, was a harden criminal at best, and perhaps even a murderer. Startled by the were-wolf in his face? Yes. Ready to give up? No!
Big Red grabbed a handful of fur and with a yip, Wolfen went flying away. He then protected his knee from Tom, using the meaty part of his thigh like a Thai Kick-boxer. What happened to me you ask? That damn red boot in the face again, of course!
This time was it was different, because with Cape’s predictive help, I got my hands on him! I was ready to do what Wham Wham used to do on the old Stoneflints cartoon, and use his foot to slam him into the pavement a few times. Until that is, Cape bought to my attention a rather large American Indian falling towards us, Will!
OK, just how strong am I now? Well, Mystery’s character sheet said she could lift about three and half tons. That’s oh, lets say, large cars, small trucks, and other things a woman isn’t supposed to be to even be able to move, much less pick up. Just remember that Persuader had been taking blows from me, and who it was who kept eating that damn red boot!
Judging where Renegade was going land, I threw him to the ground right, there still keeping control of his foot like a professional wrestler. If a second wrestler the size of a full grown Kodiak Bear could start from forty feet up instead of the top rope, you might have some idea of what happened when the madly grinning Will landed.
The impact bounced me high into the air as if the asphalt was a trampoline. Cape retarded my fall and I got a ring side seat of ten feet and one ton of muscled superhero smacking the living daylights out of Persuader. Morgan wasn't exaggerating when she said Will was huge. Looking around I saw that Question had put Scaly out for the count, but now was toe to toe with that woman with the mallet I had seen beating the snot out of Man-Mountain earlier.
That wonderful burst of anger induced energy had passed, and now I was panting hard. I let Cape drift us back down to the ground. It was then that my boot-abused face started to throb, along with my other battle injuries.
Tom, in his Streeter costume, bounded up to me, “Heyareyoualright” in rapid-fire Streeter-speak.
Trying not to talk because my face was hurting, I pointed over at the still unconscious Morgan.
Streeter gave a quick nod and flashed over to her, while I looked to see what had happened to Big Red. Renegade held him unconscious in one huge hand, and with some grunting, I got his attention.
Looking where I was pointing, he gave a nod and wind up and threw Big Red like a baseball at where Miss Mallet and Question were squared off.
Taken by surprise she was knocked flying when he struck her. Question gave us a nod and then leapt out of sight after her.
The only good news about this was at least no one was attacking us right now. I could see in the distance some others flying ,and the sounds of property damage in progress. Thankfully not near us. Anza had moved up and was helping the poor man I had landed on. I felt her dismay when she saw my face and her flash of temper that went with it.
Depending on what I was beginning to think was our soul bond, I sent to her, “I’m fine, please help that guy and Morgan.”
Her answer was little unwillingly, but her professionalism won. She gave her assent, but not before her expression made it clear to me I would be hearing about this later.
I could see Scaly had recovered enough to stand now, or was that, rearing up on its tail? He was counting the odds, and must not have liked them. He gave a hop over to Big Red and scooped him up, then keeping an eye on us, he slid backwards a couple feet and dove into the same hole he must have attacked Question from.
Soon the reason for his decision came clear as Wolfen and Renegade came up beside me. Damn but, Will was huge! I know that his Hero-form was bigger than human normal when he channeled that bear spirit of his, but he was larger than our flower-power car!
Streeter had joined the three of us and they were looking at me a bit uneasily. The last time they’d seen me, I had been a heavyset guy, and not a woman with a heels and a bleeding lip. Yeah, that's right, it was my other assets they were looking at, and not my split lip. I guess I couldn't blame them but being 'checked out' by a group of guys who were my friends was unsettling as all get out. For that matter being ogled by any group of guys just wasn't on my to do list. It wasn’t even lunch time yet, so I wondered what new surprises were waiting for me.
A bit self-consciously, I mumbled pass my split lip, “Maybe we need to get out of here before someone else shows up? If you guys can get transport, Anza and I can take these folks to the Medics.
Not knowing what to make of me, Mark asked in disbelief, “Greg is that really YOU?”
“Hey!” Anza interjected, “I have a person here who is in critical condition here. Morgan is coming to and seems just a bit rattled, so can we please finish introductions later?”
That’s when all three guys gave Anza a double take, realizing she had to be Danny.
Grimacing at the smile that came to my bruised mouth, I suggested, “Shall we, gentlemen?”
Nodding, the three guys helped Morgan, now in male mode, as they hurried off. I wrapped Anza like I had before in Cape to fly with her so she could concentrate on her patient. As I flew towards the sea of flashing emergency lights, I sighed wondering what would happen next. Feeling Anza's presence with me gave me hope it would all work out for the best.
Needless to say there was a little consternation among the emergency crews when we landed. We weren't recognized Superheroes and with all the mayhem in the Clairmont Mall parking lot, they had a real concern that the combat was spreading to them.
That didn't last long, for the second her feet hit the ground Anza was barking orders like the experienced Emergency Room Nurse she was. Everyone gave me a wide berth and I can't say I blame them. Maybe I was being hard on myself, but I had nearly crushed that poor guys to death. OK it was inadvertent, but still, you know.
Cape waving in the breeze tapped me on the shoulder yanking me back to reality and pointed out the all too official looking SWAT like team moving purposely towards us. They had blue futuristic armor and weapons and looked as if they meant business. Oh yeah, the pair of hovering heavily armed Attack Helicopter-like things with them didn't look any too peaceful, either.
I quick stepped to Anza and with a helpful flash from our growing bond made her aware of our impending trouble. She gave me a annoyed look I knew it wasn't for me, but for our incoming welcoming committee.
Shrugging, I let her make the decision to bug out or not. Although I wasn't happy with staying around and confronting the oncoming officials, I'm not about to give a professional orders in a life or death situation, especially when I'm the one who put the said sap there to start with. It was clear that they had seen me become aware of them and were hustling to reach us. Well at least those nasty flying Helicopter things with all the guns and rockets hanging off of them were holding off because of us being in the middle of the treatment area.
It was clear that Anza felt needed here, but I think she saw the danger we were bringing to these people just by being here. She sighed, “Misty you fly and I'll hide us?”
I gave a silent prayer of relief and smiled, for it was an old tactic we had used before in games. Both of us could fly, and she was even the much faster flier. The thing was, Cape was ignorant of all kinds of laws like the conservation of motion and momentum. This made me agile as all get out in the air. With me carrying her, leaving her free to use her considerable mental abilities to confuse things, we were a hard act to follow.
Scooping her up I flew upwards and started jinking like a starfighter with a DoomStar after at it. Looking down I could see our committee was very disappointed at our sudden departure. Tough luck boys! If they wanted to play there were still enough fireworks going on at the Mall to keep anyone busy. I think they were picking on us because like the old joke about the speeder and the Highway patrolman, we were the only ones they could catch!
Those Helicopter things did roar after us, but with Anza's mental illusions and my evasive maneuvers it wasn't hard to lose them. The only problem that came up was I was enjoying myself a little too much. Yep, I'm one of those people with their arms flying wild on the roller coasters, screaming their fool heads off!
“Missy! You're making me sick! Stop!” she yelled though our link and my ear!
Red faced I leveled out from the roll I’d just made, “I'm sorry about that.” I made sure it was safe and started flying a little more sensibly but oh my, I was flying! Whee! You would think after what happened in that fight I would have learned my lesson, but I was finding out power-tripping was more addictive than any drug I could think of.
Using her phone's headset, she found where the others were and with a few false starts we were on our way. Give us some slack here. It's hard reading street signs from the air. We found ourselves at what could only be called a mini-mansion with, I hope, Tom's and Mark's limo parked in front. Anza was getting tired from the effort keeping us invisible and so we set down in the privacy of the backyard.
I steadied her and she gave me a grateful smile that took my breath away. Hearing a door open we looked up and saw our fellow dimensional castaways coming to greet us. She reached down and took my hand. No matter what we were in this together, and damning the torpedoes and prejudice we went to meet the guys we hoped still were our friends.
End of Part One.
Taking it in stride, Will replied humorously in a John Wayne accent, “Shucks Ma'am it weren't nuthing. Well, I guess I can sell him to you cheap, but I'm warning you, he bites!” Mark gave him an evil stare. “Gee thanks, buddy. It's a good thing it wasn’t a silver hammer.” He eyed his injured digit, that was regaining its normal shape after presumably being flattened by Will, using the same hammer Mark was regarding with ill intent. |
Mystery
Hello there! I am glad that you are here. This story is based on twenty some-odd years of playing, and eventually game-mastering, role-playing-games such as “Dungeons and Dragons”, just to mention the most widely known.
The characters and players mentioned here have had their names changed to protect the guilty and above all, for privacy. The story was not written for profit, but for fun and as therapy for the afflicted. I, the author, reserve all rights for posting and publishing this work, and will accept the credits due, as well as the blame.
If any of the players and friends from whom I have shamelessly stolen dialogue and great ideas read this, know that you are thanked for the great times we had while playing, and if your character has been changed or misrepresented here, it is all my fault!
This is a mosaic work, the result of ideas that has fermented in my Id for longer than I would like to admit.
“Heroes of Justice” is NOT a game being published by anyone to the best of my knowledge. It and this world is an imaginary title to prevent anyone and/or company from being offended or God forbid, deciding it is copyright infringement. Remember this is fiction! Violence, sex and trans-gendered themes are represented in this story, so if you are not an adult or would be offended by such material, do NOT read any further.
Any resemblance to characters living, dead, in hibernation or otherwise is pure speculation. I want to offer a big thanks to all of those TG authors who write of heroes and fantasy, and keep the rest of us walking-wounded up and about with their great stories. I am talking about Maggie Finson, EE Nalley, Bob Arnold and many others from the “Whateley Academy”, “Belle of the Ball”, “Masked Marvels-Lady Lightning”, “Zapped!” and other stories, that keep me up nights waiting for them to post. One last thanks to John in that place that begins with the “W”, that I cannot pronounce, who unknown to him, read my first clumsy story. Warning: As it leaves my hands, the following story has bad grammar and misspelled words and other unspeakable horrors. Thanks go out to Jamie Lou for her efforts to correct my mistakes. Any remaining errors are mine. A special thanks goes to Cathy T for her encouragement and pre-read. I hope that this will satisfy those, we in the gaming hobby call Rules-Lawyers! Now as they say, “On with the Show!”
Few eyes looked up as the 'suit' entered. The young, expensively dressed man might have been handsome, if not for the predatory glare in his gray eyes. The clacking of his Italian leather shoes echoed loudly in the small shop over the continuous rattle of keystrokes and coffee mugs as he swaggered over to the comfortably rumpled senior citizen.
“How pathetically cliché, Chess?” the uninvited business-suited man scornfully observed.
Looking up from his board, the chess player gave the younger man a hard stare across the top of his glasses. “What would you suggest, Russian Roulette” he asked?
With a raptorial thin-lipped smile, the other replied, “Why not, I have no problems with games of sudden death.”
“Isn't that a little hard on your participants?” the old man replied raising a bushy gray eyebrow.
“No more so than you sacrificing pawns, Old Man.” He said arrogantly crossing his arms.
“Indeed? I make the best decisions I can for the greater good. Relying on the fickle hand of fate to favor my endeavors, No.”
“Tsk, tsk” the younger said disdainfully, “You take all the fun out life Old Man.”
Going back to study his game the older replied, “It is not fun or enjoyable to put other’s existence at risk. I only do so when absolutely necessary for the survival of all.”
The younger man gave a derisive snort. “Speak for yourself. After all why not? They are inferior beings.”
Not looking up, the old man said, “They all have their place in the greater scheme of things. Each is vital to the whole.”
The younger with a smirk on his thin face, sarcastically retorted, “So now you fall back on philosophic cliché’s?”
“Humph, cliché though they may be makes them no less true,” the older replied taking a slip of his coffee.
Rocking back and forth on his pricey leather shoes the other snorted while inspecting his manicured nails. “Even the pathetic unfortunates your incompetent servants conned onto your board? You just can't find good help anymore can you?”
Adjusting his glasses, the old man replied, “Yes, especially them. As for my servants they serve me willingly and not from fear or blackmail.”
Scoffing, the younger man snorted, “Half of them are perverts who can’t decide which restroom to use and the other half are a bunch of losers certain to be disgusted at the others’ perversions. You actually expect them to work together?” Laughing unkindly the young man snarled. “I don't think so!”
Putting his cup down, the chess player countered, “You don't give them enough credit. I suppose there will be problems, but I believe their friendship for each other is strong enough to overcome the inevitable misunderstandings. When you expect the worse from people that is what you receive,” He lectured while placing a finger on a bishop considering his move.
“Expect the worse Old Man? I count on it!” the other said with a gleam in his icy gray eyes.
“Is that why your chosen Champion is a desiccated corpse? Even the grave refused to have him.” The senior citizen said looking over the board with deliberate consideration.
The younger slightly inclined his head. “I admit he isn't much to look at, but he does have his charms. There is nothing like a bit of stark raving terror to insure loyalty of one‘s underlings.”
“I must disagree with you. Honesty, leadership, and compassion are the keys to loyalty. Fear creates nothing but more fear,” he said as he made his decision and repositioned the Queen's Knight.
Outside a man fell screaming wildly with a loud splash into the middle of the river. Startled park goers looking upwards for what he could have fallen from saw nothing. It was if somehow he had just appeared from thin air above the river before his fall. A couple of brave souls rushed forward into the chilly autumn waters to help him as he foundered about in shock
Looking at the rescue in progress with angry pinched lips the younger man splat, “Don't think this changes anything. I will prevail in the end. They are weak and will fail you, and then so much for you and your precious strategies. Put aside this ridiculous charade and face me Old Man!”
Calmly meeting the younger man’s angry gaze “No, I will not. To match my strength against yours would destroy this place regardless of which one of us triumphs. They deserve a chance to fulfill their own destinies. This may not be their homes and loved ones who are threatened but at heart, they are good people. They and the souls that live here deserve an opportunity, however slim it may be to defend this place.”
Peering up at the angry expensively dressed man from over the top of his glasses he said, “Your move.”
Making a visible effort to suppress his fury, but still shaking in anger the other grated, “No matter, by my strength or by my proxies, I will take this world Old Man.” He turned to leave, spitting his last words like a curse.
After taking another sip of his coffee, the old man put down his cup sighing. Looking out the window at the drama outside where the rescuers had dragged the unfortunate onto the bank while he coughed up the all the water he had swallowed back into the river, the senior citizen sighed, “We will see.”
Heroes of Justice: The Band of Heroes!
I would rather face Big Red again than those coming towards us right now. Anza's hand held mine tight and I could feel her loving presence inside and beside me. No, approaching us was a group worse than any group of supervillians or evil doers. They were our friends.
The turbulent feelings I had bouncing around in my stomach was much too energetic to be anything as mundane as butterflies. As dense and nasty as that twisting knot in my center felt it was more like a lump of plutonium. Yeah, that's the ticket! That would make the things whizzing about in my unsettled middle neutrons. Anytime now, they would start impacting that knot of plutonium. They would strip off other neutrons and start a super critical reaction, then Ka Blooie!
Ok I am exaggerating a little, but how in the blue blazes do we tell our three male friends that Anza and I, who use to be Danny and Greg, are now lovers and life partners? It is one thing to be transformed into super bodacious babes. Hey, it's not my fault! I was just role-playing this Super-Chick and then boom out of nowhere, bosom!
Telling them, the two guys who gamed with them were not only happy about misplacing the family jewels, but on top of that were now lesbian lovers? Oh and let us not forget the part where we want to stay that way! Maybe I am overreacting. They are our friends, right? How bad could it be?
Tom used to be a thin blond hyperactive guy and honestly, he had changed the least of us all at least in general appearance. He was more muscular now but like a swimmer or gymnast rather than a bodybuilder. It might be my imagination but it seemed I could still see traces of Tom in his new form as Duane Moors, Streeter. As he studied us and saw our grasped hands, his face frowned in a decidedly unfriendly expression.
Will, back home was another blond, but that was the only thing he had shared with Tom. Short and heavy set he had clearly showed his German ancestry. Now he towered over everyone else. He was the size of a professional wrestler bugling with muscles, but the most striking change to his appearance was now his American Indian ancestry. Walking lightly for such a huge guy, he still seemed self-conscious about his new height and bulk. His character's name of Jay Strong Bear, AKA Renegade fit him better than “Will” did now. The look of pure amazement and shock on his face as he stood there opened mouth looking at us beckoned someone to close it for him.
The last of the dreadful trio was Mark who once was the tallest but now was about the same height as Tom. He had always been muscular and fit, but now he could challenge champion bodybuilders with that incredible, well-defined build of his. His milk chocolate complexion had changed to a much darker black that almost made him look like an obsidian sculpture. He still resembled Mark somewhat but his wolf eyes gave no doubt this was not a man to cross. Mack Sirius, known as Wolfen was giving Anza a look reserved for prey. Absentmindedly, he reached over and closed poor Will's open mouth all the while not moving his amber gaze from MY lover! His desire for her was plainly visible.
I was expecting many things from this encounter but, nope, jealousy was not one of them. Werewolf or no Werewolf, she's mine buddy! I was not sure if this came from residue male conditioning or runaway hormones but with an effort, I managed to calm myself.
Anza was as unsettled by Mark as I, judging from her emotions bleeding over to me. It was my turn to give her a reassuring hand squeeze. Maybe she had been preparing to transition but that does not help when being eyed like a side of beef. Hell! He was worse than Tony the Tiger and that is saying a mouthful sister!
Morgan was bringing up the rear and I could see him sigh as he felt the tension overflowing in the backyard. Our first time seeing him in his 'male-mode', Morgan reminded me of Tom Sell-something from that old detective show set in Hawaii 'Maximum PI.' His rugged good looks contrasted with his other ID as the superheroine Lady Diamond, who was the exact opposite, being ultra feminine. As Heath Hefner, he looked every inch the rugged reporter. Morgan knew about us already and had proven to be a true friend.
Releasing Anza's hand, I stepped in front of her and crossed my arms. “So you Guys did not have any problems getting home, Mark?
He was at least a foot taller than I am now and twice as broad. Looking up at him reminded me that while everyone else had stayed the about same height or gotten taller, I had shrunk. Not that I have had time to find how much given the chaos of the last day.
Mark gave me a startled expression as if he had not even noticed me until now. I relaxed just a little. He might only be adjusting to his new circumstances. Imagining how much testosterone a male werewolf might produce made a shiver run up my spine.
My body's current estrogen hormone might cause me to cry, lust after my friend, and any number of other problems that had yet to manifest themselves, but I would not trade them for the world. I never hated the male of my species, but I never had much use for them either. The thought of being a walking industrial testosterone factory like Mark the werewolf, made my flesh crawl.
What made my head hurt was Mark was the most laid back person I had ever known. To have him come on so strong was way out of character for him. Well it was for Mark anyways. There was a lot we did not know about the people we were now. Who is to say about Mack Sirius?
Looking pass Mark, I could not miss Morgan’s exasperated expression — no doubt at our silliness. He was moving a bit unsteadily, which helped divert my attention from Mark’s predatory stance. Big Red, otherwise known as Persuader, had knocked Lady Diamond, Morgan's alter ego out cold. It is no wonder he was still unsteadily.
I could feel Anza asserting control over her anxiety over Mark's rudeness and it reminded me that despite how much this transformation had caused her to blossom she was a new comer to 'being a natural woman' too.
Her Emergency Room Nurse persona reestablished itself when she asked, “Where are the first aid supplies? Morgan and Misty needs medical attention,” she said taking command of the situation.
Tom stood there with his arms folded clearly stating his opinion without saying a word. Will had the good graces to look apologetic and even Mark averted his lupine graze.
“Hello? I have patients here. Could at least one of you three get me whatever you have for medical supplies? There should be one in the Limo, kitchen or bathroom” Anza directed with her eyes flashing and waving the empty, basic first aid we had recovered from our flower-power-mobile.
My split lip helped me not to smile as she admonished our three friends. It did remind me we had to do something about getting our VW girl-power car from the mall battleground and cook up a good story to hide our IDs while doing it.
Will blinked his eyes a few times shaking off his daze. “I'll check the house.”
Morgan suggested while carefully probing his head. “Mark, why don't you toss Will the Limo keys and he can check both. I need to talk to you. Girls could you do us a favor and change out of the super-suits please? I don't think we need to risk further discovery although Tom does has a privacy fence here.”
Feeling a little sheepish, Anza and I shared a small revelation that it had not occurred to us to change because we had felt threatened. Trust is a two-way street and it was up to us to try to re-earn it. Cape was a little grudging about this because it seemed quiet fond of Anza. That was a bombshell! Well it was as if the family dog had decided the new pack member was okay in its book.
It did not escape me that the outfit Cape dressed me in, the leather pants, loose blouse, vest, fingerless gloves, and flat-heeled boots was making a statement. It was an outfit suitable for fighting as well as presenting an aggressive appearance. I thought that for once Cape put me into something that did not ooze sex. That is until I caught Anza’s appreciative thoughts. Oh great, I wondered which it was: a dominatrix or maybe Goth?
Anza dropped the harlequin-like mask she had on. Relaxing her telekinesis the bits and pieces of dust, paper and other stuff fell away revealed for what they really were. It may not seem like much of a disguise but she had also used her powers to press her full hair close to her scalp giving the impression it was shorter. Now almost magically it became fuller and seemed more alive.
I stood there spellbound frozen as I watched. No glamorous model could hope to complete with Anza, no matter how much they slung their manes about. Yeah she was cheating, if you wanted to call it that, by using her powers. But if you got it, you got it. Believe me, she could sell a supertanker full of hair stuff and did not have to do a cotton picking thing other than just stand there running her telekinesis though her long, dark tresses.
A low growl reminded me we had others as an audience. I looked over at Mark who was still trying to make like the Call of the Wild. How do you tell a good friend he is being a jerk? Not wanting to cause any more damage to my sore face much less sour relations with my friend, I tried to catch Morgan's eye.
Morgan was way ahead of me. He tapped Mark on the shoulder and addressed us. “Anza could you look at Mystery first please? Tom, Mark we need to talk. ” He led them a short distance away from the small gazebo Anza had appropriated for her outdoor clinic.
Anza sat me down and I felt a tingle across my face as Cape removed my makeup. I was growing suspicious that Cape had no need what so ever of actually applying my makeup. It simply seemed to enjoy doing so.
Anza's gentle touch as she softly probed the damage caused me to wince. “You look like you've gone a few rounds with Blocky Ralboa. Nothing is broken considering all the crushed cars I saw from your, 'don’t worry I'm not going to get into a fight' stunt. Do you have any idea of how you scared me half to death feeling you freak out after you took off flying back to Morgan?” She sighed. “I felt your panic so intensely; I thought something had happened to you.”
I gently touched her arm. “I'm sorry Anza. When I heard that crash from where we left Morgan, I had to get back to her. It was foolish I know, but what else could I have done? You had that mom and baby to take care of and I didn't know where the guys were.”
Anza snorted and poked at a spot that caused tears to well up in my eyes. “How else do you think our three daring Amigo's got there in time to ride to your rescue? I called them of course, but no, you had to go flying off to the rescue. Well, at least you are all right. You’re healing very quickly. These look they’re already several days old, not less than an hour. By the end of the day you won't need a bricklayer applying your makeup to hide your shiners.”
We both jumped as our headset sparked to life and it took us a moment to realize Morgan was broadcasting his talk to Mark and Tom. Leave it to Morgan to notice we still had our earphones in. Feeling a pang of conscious, I started to say something but Anza quieted me with a finger to my bruised lips. Sighing, I listened in guiltily while trying to understand Tom's rapid-fire blurts.
Morgan: “Mark what the hell were you doing? Aren’t they having enough problems without you acting like that? Tom what's your problem? We all knew they changed into their characters just like us.”
Tom: “What a pair of Homo's.”
Morgan: “For Gawd's sake Tom are you prejudiced or something? They’re our friends. Besides, haven’t I heard you talk about how much you like girl on girl stuff before? You don’t seem to have a problem with lesbians.
Tom: “It's Greg and Danny and not a pair Of Lesbians. They are Freaking Guys!”
Morgan: “I talked to them last night. They found themselves naked in a dressing room in a strip club as women. I know I would've had hysterics, but they calmly got dressed and walked out. On top of that, afterwards when they saw they were being followed, they came up with a very smart diversion. What were you doing at the time? Screaming in panic bouncing off the inside of that car until Mark poured a fifth Johnny Walker Black down your throat?”
Tom: “It's Not The Same Thing! They Were Guys damn it!”
Morgan: “I'll draw you a picture. Esperanza is a powerful telepath, right?”
Tom: “Yeah she's a mentalist, so?”
Morgan: “Mystery has empathic abilities because of her Cape and that helps her discover those who mean her harm or lie to her. You with me so far?”
Tom: “Yeah, they both have the Mentalist thing going. So what, so does Streeter. Both he and Mystery is much the same. I spent my points on reflexes and telekinesis while Greg used his for Mystery on extra strength and the ‘is-there-danger-about’ Empathy thing.”
Morgan: “Then too bad you weren't in that room with Esperanza when you got here. On the other hand, maybe it was a good thing you weren't. Seeing a beautiful attractive woman without meaning too, she reached out with her powers. Mystery, seeing the same thing must have done something similar. So here, they are experiencing what each other is feeling. I don't know if might have been something like self-reinforcing feedback but they got linked or mentally bound together somehow. Now do you understand?
Mark: “Oh Crap!”
Morgan: “Yes Mark, crap. I think the two of them are coping very well considering. I can't say the same of you two. We'd heard Tom's sorry excuse what's yours?
Mark: “Heh, heh, hmmm... I didn't mean too, it's just Esperanza is so fluking beautiful. That was one thing, but then I scented her. I mean I can smell things a lot better now, but when I caught hers, I couldn't help myself. Sorry”
Tom: “For Gawd’s sake Danny is a guy Mark!”
Mark: “Maybe back home wherever that is, but here and right now, I can assure that she is all woman. Besides, I don’t have any problems at all with a pair of smoking hot lesbians getting it on. I didn't have any problems with being Wolfen till this happened.”
Morgan: “Tom, as far as the two of them are concerned the other is female and their powers won't let them ignore each other. Both of them think that even if we get home they still will be bound together and neither one is happy with that.”
Mark: “What's the problem Tom? We might be struck here anyways. I'm just glad I wasn't playing one of my female characters.”
Tom: “You don’t understand. It's not right! What's wrong with you guys?”
Morgan: “If we have any chance at all of getting home we’re going to have to work together. Tom come back here. Damn!”
Mark: “We've screw this up, haven't' we?”
Morgan: “I hope he comes to his senses. This came out of nowhere. Has he always like this?”
Mark: “He doesn't talk about it much. I think it comes mostly from his dad. They don't get along so I don't have a clue why Tom is acting like so much like him.”
Morgan: “Are you going to storm off too, or are you going to apologize to our friends for being a rude jerk?”
Mark: “Ugh, in person? I mean they already know. My ears are almost as good as my nose even if not as quite as sharp as when I’m Wolfen‘s. I can hear the background hiss from their radios. May we have some privacy?”
A click ended our eavesdropping, giving both of us nervousness tittering giggles. We looked at each other. “That could've gone better” we chimed in stereo, which set off another round of giggles. Mark was still talking to Morgan, but we saw Tom storming off for the house in a rapid huff that would have been an outright sprint for anyone else. Alas, poor Will was trying to squeeze his bulk sideways out the patio doors as Tom came charging in.
It would have been comical if we had not been so stressed out about what was happening. Tom bounce off Will as if he had run into a stonewall. Rather than hit the lawn, Tom, with his jacked-up metabolism, twisted around like a cat on amphetamines. What made it so funny it was not at all graceful. Arms and legs were flying all over the place, but he still landed upright, even if he was fighting for balance on one foot.
Will, just noticing someone had collided with him looked around with an expression of pure innocence. Seeing Tom still trying to recover his balance, he went over to help forgetting he still had not cleared the doorway. With a crack, the French-style patio door snapped off from its hinges. There was Will holding the broken door with one ham-sized hand and a first aid kit palmed in the other. Tom giving Will a dark look hurried past, while the embarrassed Will tried to apologize on the fly as the other passed by.
After Tom's hostile comments and Mark's animalistic lust, Will's simple bewilderment at what was going on was a welcomed change. Shaking his head, he ambled over after finding a place to lean the patio door against. “What was that all about?” his deep voice rumbled as he handed over the kit.
Anza opened it and looked though it. “Tom is having a little trouble with Mystery’s and my new situation.” Looking up at Will who had to ducked his head to enter the gazebo she asked, “How about you Will? Are you going to freak on us too?”
Carefully easing himself onto the table, he shook his head. “No, why should I? You two are gorgeous. I admit that I was awed when I first got a good look at you, but haven’t you heard? Guys think two women making out are hot.” he teased. “Seriously, I have to keep reminding myself who you are, but I can see some of the old guys in both of you. Now if we were back home and you started hitting on me, then I would have a problem.” Grinning, he pointed out. “As you are now I have no problem with you two flirting with me, but I don't think that's going to happen.”
Surprised, I looked at him as Anza was putting some balm on my injuries. “What do you mean?”
Will smiled. “Maybe the way you look at each other and the way you give little touches to reassure each other. The way the two of you are almost glowing has nothing to do with it. We've known and played together for years, and I've never known you two to be so happy. That's good enough for me.”
His face blushed so red I thought he was having a coronary when we both hugged him! “That's okay we love you anyways, you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking, Nerf herder,” Anza whispered into his ear.
Still scarlet he stuttered. “Wo,Woo, Who's scruffy looking? Y, Yu, You keep doing that and I'll have to say something nice about you. ”
The happy relief that we had not alienated Will and Morgan made me want to start crying. Somehow, I got a handle on it because Will would not understand. I knew we were all social outcasts of one kind or another, but never really understood just how socially inept he was. Despite his comeback, the poor guy looked if he did not know whether to run, hide or faint from our attention. I tried to make a mental note to remember to ask Anza if Will had problems like ours or just needed a little help. Smugly, I knew just the two to play matchmaker for him.
Cape gently got my attention by tapping my cheek with the collar of my blouse: Mark was heading towards us. I pretended not to notice. My friend he might be but neither Anza nor I was meat on the hoof!
“Heh, Am I interrupting something?” he asked. His nose was flaring and was doing everything he could to not meet our eyes.
Will looked even more embarrassed. “No, no nothing going on here. I'll go and see about that door” and hurried off.
We both bit back our giggles, not wanting to hurt the one guy besides Morgan who was cool with us. Anza and I remembered all too well being on that side of the fence. Having two women laughing behind your back could easily be misunderstood. Mark however was another question altogether and if I was giving him a chilly reception, Anza's was Antarctic-ice cold.
“I guess you heard about why I overreacted when you first got here,” he said looking anywhere he could to avoid eye-contact.
Anza frostily replied, “We overheard your explanation to Morgan, but so far you haven't told us anything other than you won't look at us.”
Sighing Mark said slowly, “I'm trying not to because that makes it worse. You don't understand. My sense of smell is so sensitive that now even without being Wolfen I know you two are female because it's almost like I'm tasting you. Imagine having an intimate connection with someone else but who doesn't even know it's happening. It’s almost like that. I can't help myself from wanting more. Being upwind from you is helping. Please forgive me; I'm not doing this on purpose. Both of you are beautiful, but Esperanza is like my fantasy turned real.”
I crossed my arms. “I can forgive some of this because we've had our own troubles coping with all this. We know Morgan told you some of what happened to us so you know that we are a couple like it or not? ”
Privately using our link/bond, I sent to her. “I like it! I like it a lot!”
Mark huffed. “Yes I do know. Now I know what to look for I can tell you two are mates. It's on your scents. I didn't have any problems yesterday, but since I shifted to Wolfen today, it’s been hard for me to deal with. Everything is just so much more intense. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm smelling sometimes. About this thing that happened this morning, please forgive me. ”
Anza however had picked up on something else Mark had said. “What do you mean, TASTING? And like being intimate with ME and I not know it? You had better not have meant I think you mean,” she said angrily with her almond, Hispanic eyes afire.
Crap! It is going to get nasty here. Not wanting to end up in an argument, I was waiting for a chance to try to defuse things. He had come over to try to make up. Mark saved me the trouble when even as dark as he was blushed. I would not have believed it if I had not seen it and as much as I did not want to admit it, he did look cute.
“Yes that is what I mean.” Mark said in a small voice as he was inspecting the gazebo floor. The way he did so suggested he had included me in that statement as well. “I can't help it. Morgan thought I might be picking up on your pheromones.” A little desperately, he apologized, “I'm sorry.”
I knew she was still pissed, but it just too much! Before he was the worse sort of macho while now he had the same look of an apologetic puppy-caught-wetting the floor. A two-hundred-pound body-builder puppy that is, who could turn into a three-hundred-pound plus werewolf.
Anza sighed and I felt her anger subside. “I guess we're not in Kansas anymore Toto. Okay you're forgiven, but I'm warning you I'm keeping a rolled up newspaper around for next time! ”
With a sigh of relief, Mark gave a toothy grin. “You got that right Dorothy!”
Morgan walked up, I guess sure that Mark's apology had been accepted from our laughter. Not to let sleeping dogs lie, I greeted him with “Auntie Em, Auntie Em!”
We all lost it again to giggles and howls as he flawlessly raised a single eyebrow in the finest Star Tripping tradition. “I fail to see the significance of that statement in this context.”
Morgan took my place on Anza's makeshift examining table as we recovered from our mirth. Anza asked as she checked Morgan's head, “So what happened after Misty and I took off with the mother and baby that ended up with you unconscious?”
He looked guilty. “I did the same thing she did.” Morgan said and pointed at me. “I screwed up by the numbers. I didn't want to injure him too badly so I aimed at a painful but non-fatal area.” Morgan huffed. “When I shot him it only made him mad. I did manage to blind him for a few moments but his mask must have some sort of polarizers built into it. He proceeded to clean my clock. We keep messing with these people... They’re going to seriously hurt one of us sooner or later.”
Anza sniffed. “You should have X-rays to make sure there isn't a fracture but you don't look to have a concussion. Maybe your brains are made of rocks when you're Lady Diamond. Nothing to bang around and be damaged inside your skull. You may not be as lucky the next time you run into Mongo. ”
I watched Mark walking over to help Will fix the patio door. “Two out three isn't bad is it?”
Morgan sighed. “I still have a headache but as you say.” Turning to look at me he replied, “Nope, except when you're talking about friends. I don't know what happened. I’ve never seen Tom act like that before even when you guys were playing my ‘Girls Want To Have Fun Game’ the last time. He seemed to be okay then and seemed to have had a good time along with everyone else.”
Anza started to pack up the first aid kit. “I was half expecting Will to wig out. You know. With him still living at home and the church thing, he does every Sunday. Instead it was Mark of all people who scared me.”
I touched her hand. “Hey we know what happened with him now. I got my differences shoved in my face yesterday. Today was his turn. I'm still overloaded some but not as bad. Mark was having a grand time looking like a black Hercules but today was his turn smell how the roses are fertilized. You know he was giving me that look too? The first time I can remember being thankful I smelled bad.”
“He'll get used to his changes in time,” Morgan said. “Tom will come around too because, after all he‘s engaged. That gives him a good reason to want to get home and to accomplish that he has got to work with us even if he doesn't like us.”
I gave them a lop sided smile. “Yeah that will do for now, but... Drat if I don't miss his snide comments.”
Just then, a string of profanity floated across the garden as Will and Mark wrestled with the patio door. After the first round, it was clear the patio door had the home court advantage. Mark and Will as the contenders however were determined to succeed. The second round was a tie as the door was hung but then would not shut all the way.
We three sat there enjoying the match when Morgan spoke up. “You know we need to retrieve your car, right?”
Anza pointed out while touching our empty first aid kit, “Laying our hands on a decent medical aid kit would be nice to if we're going to continue to get beaten up like this. We were lucky this time. Next time love; don't lead with your face. Those lips are mine to do with as I please, and I don't care for anyone else redecorating them!”
Looking at the two of them I added, “I want to know who those SWAT team wannabees were. If we are on someone's 'Oh Crap List' I want to know why and what we can do about it.” I turned to Morgan who was looking at the two of us.
“Please don't tell me you've gotten us on someone's official Villain roster,” Morgan winced as Mark yipped when Will missed with the hammer.
Anza protested, “We didn't do anything. Misty and I landed with our patient where the EMT's were doing triage. The next thing we knew these guys in blue armor are charging at us.”
I nodded. “Don't forget those attack helicopter things with the missiles and guns. There were two of them there. I'm familiar with most of our world's military hardware, but these were new to me. They resembled V-22 Osprey Tilt-rotors, but were sleeker carrying a hell of a lot of weapons. Kind of more like those science fiction assault-ships from those Alien's movies than helicopters. Why they were after us and not at the mall where the fight was going on is beyond me.”
Morgan massaging his head said, “First things first guys. Let’s retrieve your car and hide it in the garage here. Then we can see about taking the Limo shopping.
Anza shook her finger at him. “Not you. If you’re still having headaches, you should take it easy. You know that Morgan. Misty should go because she’s good at sneaking when she's not causing traffic accidents. And I need to, in case I'm needed to do my old Jedi mind trick. How about Mark driving us over in the limo? Then the rest of you can meet up with us later. It can hold all of us and if Mark has to play chauffeur it’s only fair given how he acted today.”
I mused, “That’ll leave Will to watch you. If things go badly the three of you will be our backup. How about it?”
He thought it over. “Sounds good to me, I'll let Tom know since you two are verboten around him. Are you two going to be all right with Mark in a confined space with his uber-nose? ”
I looked over at Anza and could see she had her doubts. “We need to know if we can work our way pass this with him. In theory the more time we spend together the easier it should be. This should be easy. No damage done to the car and we didn't see anything worthy of making a statement. If things go south, well, having a werewolf could be handy. Does he have a collar and his shots?” I giggled.
“If he doesn't behave we could threaten to take him to one of those Doggie boutiques and give him a poodle cut,” Anza laughed.
Morgan took a deep breath. “You know, I would almost rather try to do that rather than talk to Tom right now. Not that I think you could manage it without Will's help, but certainly it would more pleasant. That reminds me. You remember last night when I said that some of the stuff that has happened to me wasn't included during character generation, but I had intended as part of Lady Diamond's origin anyways?”
Anza and I traded a smile knowing he was talking about being hermaphrodite and nodded.
“If that is the case for all of us Will's Renegade character had tons of accumulated experience from being been played for so long. He would be the most powerful of us all followed by you two from playing in my game for so long. Wolfen and Streeter would likely be next follow lastly by me since I've never been able to play Lady Diamond very much. Like you said we really do need to find out more about ourselves and our abilities,” he said.
I blinked, looking over at Will. He'd played Renegade for years. For rewards for completing missions or just playing well, Game Masters awarded experience points. These points usually either helped you level up and become more powerful or could spent increasing your abilities depending on the game system. Whoa! The rest of us were like 'B' list heroes, like BugMan. Powerful and able to do things no normal human could dream of but save the world? Not so much.
Will's Renegade could well be on the coveted 'A' list with SuperJock and other world savers types. I mean I have seen Will's write up of him and he had mounds of experience. A part of me was so glad that it was the rather socially inept but good-hearted Will and not Tom with his prejudices. On a personal note this could also mean there was more to Anza and I than we suspected.
Morgan cleared his throat. “Lets be about it shall we?” He slipped carefully off the table.
We got over to our pair of home fix-it guys just in time to see Will decide to forgo using the hammer and use his thumb to push the nails into the door jam. Despite what we've seen in the last two days, it still was eye opening. Even Mark who was still nursing a smacked finger was openly amazed. Nope Dorothy, we certainly were not in Kansas anymore.
Will nonchalantly brushed off his hands. “That will hold it for now and keep the weather out. You guys should really get a carpenter over here and replace the frame. I messed it up pretty good when I went though it. ”
Finally noticing we were staring at him he blushed. “What?” he asked looking around to see what we were looking at.
Not able to stop myself from smiling I joked, “Nothing Will. It's just your natural good looks overwhelming us lesser mortals. We need Mark to drive us over to get our car left at the mall. Are you finished with him?”
I was not prepared for his brilliant red blush, but Anza's mental elbow reminded to be careful. What used to be good-hearted teasing might be taken as flirting now and that was a horse of another color!
Taking it in stride, Will replied humorously in a John Wayne accent, “Shucks Ma'am it weren't nuthing. Well I guess I can sell him to you cheap, but I'm warning you he bites!”
Mark gave him an evil stare. “Gee thanks, buddy. It's a good thing it wasn’t a silver hammer.” He eyed his injured digit that was regaining it normal shape after presumably being flattened by Will using the same hammer Mark was regarding with ill intent.
Before our very eyes, Mark’s smashed finger healed and looked never to have suffered harm to start with. I knew today would be filled with discoveries but had not figured on ones like this. I felt a little guilty as well. We should have known Will hitting anything with a hammer was not a good thing. Instead, mistakenly we had treated as a more or less normal mishap.
Morgan as one of our two medical trained members said, “Important safety tip everybody: Don't let Will anywhere near any tools and be careful. If Mark didn’t have regeneration he would've lost that finger,” looking at Will and me as our two Bricks.
Curious I picked up a warped nail and tried to bend it. With my friends watching on I twisted like was soft wire as I contorted it into one shape and then another. Anza reached to touch it, but I stopped her. “Don't, it's hot luv'. The friction of the metal being worked back and forth is just like the heat you get when twisting a wire till it breaks.” Wondering how far I could take this, I tried to pinch it in two. That was not as easy, but Cape added these harden tips to my gloves that let me do it.
Seeing everyone was enjoying the show, Will took another nail and — I am not kidding here — wadded it up as if it was clay and pushed at it until it was roughly half-dollar sized. Gamers are repositories of odd bits of trivia, but even so, it took me a moment to recognize what our titanic-sized friend had done. Working the metal back and forth until it created enough heat from fiction until it could have started a fire, and then using force to reshape the nail is called cold-forging, reshaping metals using low temperature heat. He did it with just his bare hands! The wild part was, he was still in his normal identity during all of this. If he used his mystic shaman powers, he could become even larger and stronger, woof!
Morgan gave Will a considering look. “While you guys are out, I'll see if I can find a place for us to practice. We have to get a grip on our new selves,” he said, giving the glowing half dollar sized ex-nail a disapproving look.
Will smiled and dropped it into a glass of water one them must have gotten from the house. Quenched, it hissed as hot metal hit the water. Amazingly, the glass did not shatter but we all jumped just the same. Giving each other an eye-rolling, eyebrow-raising look of disbelief, we all knew it was to time to “Make it so!”
Heroes of Justice: But Not Alone!
Our little expedition headed for the car after Will gave Mark back the keys. The trip over to the mall was, for once, uneventful. I think Mark must have learned his lesson. The only near disaster was me remembering to dress as I had earlier just in case someone remembered us from last time. By the time, we got back to Clairmont Mall the fight had long ago ended. Rescue and clean up efforts were still busy working I was just happy not to see any more of those blue dropship/helicopter things buzzing around.
Mark got us as close as he could before parking. We only had a short walk to our car but had to pass this guy passing out fliers to the injured and others like us who had been inconvenienced by the unexpected battle.
He had shoved a pamphlet into our hands muttering about how dangerous Muties were and how they all needed to be dealt with. The brochure promised the ‘Humanity League’ would help with suing the parties responsible for our injuries and/or property damage. Inside, it spouted propaganda about the threats mutants and meta-humans were to the human race at large. More, it pointed out we could help by making our views known to our congressional representatives and by joining the League ourselves. All we needed to do was send in the low, yearly membership fee and we would do our part to save the world.
Without a word between us, Anza crumbled it up and gave it all the respect it deserved by dumping in the nearest trashcan. Another discovery I could have done without: hate and intolerance were alive and well in this world too.
The wreckage from the ill-fated flying Toyota Camry had been cleaned up. Wreckers were towing the ones unable to move under their own power and the fire department was taking care of spilled nasty stuff from leaking fuel tanks and acid from shattered batteries.
We explained to a police officer we were new to town and had run away when the fight started. The young officer bewitched by our charms very politely escorted us to our car where he asked for our phone numbers. I did not have a clue how to handle this, but sensing this did not have anything to do with his official duties Anza pointed back up the street where the impressively muscled Mark was waiting for us. “I don't think my boyfriend would like that,” she said and he hastily dropped the subject.
The puckering came later as we were driving away, when we opened the bright orange envelopes, like the ones used for mailing parking tickets, which we found stuffed under the wipers. One was a standard form giving us 30 days to send in a written statement of the incident. It also had a toll free phone number included for us to use if we saw anything 'important.' Well it was not a surprise that the authorities had our license plates numbers along our names and addresses.
No, most definitely it was the other envelope that caused us to freak. The envelope was just like the other one, but it was being used by someone else entirely different. All it said was “Call me” and had a toll free number. There was no name, only a large question mark. I would give you some guesses as to whom — but why waste them?
We gave each other a simultaneous “Oh Crap” look. “You don't think he knows do you?” We asked each other in stereo thinking of that red and white costumed guy with that same punctuation mark. A cold shiver went down my spine and Anza's dusky complexion paled. We had gotten away from whatever official agency those SWAT guys in blue had been with, but being chased by armed aircraft is not a pleasant experience no matter how I make light of it. However, it seemed we were not out of trouble yet.
“He can't know, but he might suspect something. I mean, he saw our car escape damage and got a good look at us fighting Big Red. He does seem to be friendly with the powers that be, and we know they have our vehicle information. If he is hunting us it’s over before it‘s begun. There no reason to panic because for all we know he just wants our phone numbers to ask for a date,” I reasoned.
She shook head causing her mane of hair to bounce. “I'll buy that we haven't been outed yet, but I think you're right, he is suspicious. This is not a comic book, where just wearing a pair of horn rim glasses is a disguise. We know he got a good look at you, and while I love your hair hon, it is distinctive. Then he sees a superheroine with hair just like yours and perhaps saw me too. I love being beautiful, but we do stand out in a crowd.”
I was trying to make my jittery brains work while driving and attempting not to get into more trouble. Thinking hard about what to do an idea came to me. “Cape is our car bugged?”
A moment later, I got back a confused “Huh?” feeling. All right, that did not work. Okay Cape picks up on people's feeling and would not have a clue about electronics. Fine let us try something else. “Cape are we being followed?”
With a delighted feeling, Cape's confusion disappeared and I got back an aura of alert contentment. I was not certain but it seemed nothing alive was trailing us. “Anza, Cape doesn't sense anyone after us.”
Glancing over at her, I saw that odd glow again in her eyes that meant she was using her powers. A part of me was scared, because of our foul up we might have gotten all of our friends in trouble.
Anza began speaking. “Don't worry love I'm not actively searching, so no one should be able to find us that way. I'm just passively esper listening. Give me a few more moments of quiet and I'll be finished.”
I am telling you those few moments seemed endless. Finally, blinking away the glow, she said, “I agree with your clothing accessories. No one in several blocks seemed interested in us other than lusting for our gorgeous bods.”
“I tried asking Cape about electronic surveillance, but it didn't have a clue,” I wondered if we dared call the guys.
“That's why I listened as far out as I could, hoping whoever might be using the old 'electronic listening post in a van trick.' Still nothing but, Ugh, there are some sick people out there luv',” she stuck out her tongue in distaste.
Ignoring the distraction my hormones gave me at the sight, I started grasping at straws. “Maybe there is some sort of security device in the car. After all, it is armored and even the airbags retracted by themselves somehow. I don't know who built this thing, but it has more than few post-factory mods.”
Anza gave a sexy shrug and giggled.
Questioningly I spared a glance from the road wondering what she was up to.
Mischievously, she ordered, “Computer On!” giggling as I rolled my eyes.
“Beetle-Informative-Mobile-Backup voice activation unit is on-line and awaiting input,” intoned an emotionless but feminine voice.
That scared the crap out of both of us. Stunned, I fought to keep us on the road while Anza jerked in surprise. Cursing, I weaved in our lane until we reached a red light and came to an abrupt stop.
“Don't ever do that again!” I almost shouted, riled at the still shocked Anza.
“Affirmative, disabling voice activation module,” the voice from our car monotoned.
Now it was my turn to gape as Anza hurriedly countered, “Cancel last command!” She gave me such an insufferable look a part of me started planning my revenge for tonight. Revenge is a dish best served with strawberries! I misquoted to myself.
“Last command is canceled. Beetle-informative-mobile-backup is awaiting input.” The voice assured me I had not screwed up.
“Computer please don't respond unless specifically addressed as Computer, Okay? First are you an Artificial Intelligence?” Anza asked
“Affirmative will comply. Negative, while this unit is equipped with an advanced personality emulator it does not pass the Turing standards for intelligence.”
“Computer do you know why my friends and I are here?” I asked really hoping for some answers.
“This unit is not programmed to respond to philosophic questions”
Anza decided to try a different tact. “Computer where were you designed and built?”
“Beetle-informative-mobile-backup was designed and built by the Cosmic Forge. A specific location and address were not provided.”
“Hey that was the name of our game store! Computer do you know Chuck and Pete who works at Cosmic Forge?
“Negative, No records are provided for specific employees at Cosmic Forge.”
This isn't helping us much,” I complained. “Okay first things first. Computer are we under electronic surveillance?”
“Affirmative, Visual and audio surveillance devices detected at intersections equipped with traffic signal units. Additional devices were detected at several locations this unit has passed.”
Anza squeaked, “You mean they can follow and hear us Computer?”
I turned paler than she did. Parts of England I had read about had systems like that, but the US? Crap, now that I think of it I am not sure what country I am in. Hey, wait minute! “Computer, but no passive or active tracking or listening devices of any kind is attached to this vehicle?”
“Affirmative, detected audio devices are primarily designed for determining direction and location for gunshots and other catastrophic events. This vehicle’s security precautions are sufficient to prevent any violations of privacy. High probability of successful tracking of this vehicle using passive tracking devices already described. Security systems report negative hostile tracking devices detected onboard”
“Relax Anza; it was just saying that using the cameras at banks and red lights they can probably follow us.” Seeing a chance to score against her for all the movie quotes she uses I misquoted, “I'll just drive relaxed. See no problem.”
My beloved gave me the evil eye. “Computer, when and where does your earliest recording take place?”
“Time-date stamp begins at Fourth November, 2006 1300 Eastern Standard Time.”
“That doesn't tell us much. That's when all of this started,” shaking my head and quickly stopped feeling my earrings and long hair moving. “Computer is there any messages or special instructions for us or the operators of this vehicle?”
“Sensors indicate vehicle is in motion and is not under emergency conditions. There are no messages that warrant violating safety protocols at this time.”
Anza asked, “Who are your messages addressed to and what is their nature?”
“The content is addressed to the operators and concerns vehicle operation and maintenance.”
Thinking about some of our other mysteries, I probed for more. “Is there any information about and/or contacting Horus or Mike Miller?”
“Negative contact information provided. Horus is listed as original purchaser.”
Anza noticing my line of thought asked about the rest of the guys. “How about any information about Greg Kinder, Danny Allison, Morgan Fairis, Mark Sanford, Tom Simms, or Will Bankenship Computer?”
“The first two are listed as alter-egos for present operators and the other four are in the on-board phone book as well as listed as alternate operators.”
Anza sighed. “That didn't help much. It would be nice to know more. ”
I echoed her feelings. “Sometimes You get what you need and not what you want. At least we know we aren't being bugged or followed within reasonable doubt. Beetle-informative-mobile-backu... ” and that is when it hit me.
My love gave me another of her patented looks I so adore. “Oh no, now what?” seeing the look on my face.
“Uh, Computer what were you called for short by your designers?” I asked dreading the answer.
“This unit was referred to as B.I.M.Bo by the creators.”
I winced knowing it was going to say that. Anza broke out laughing so hard only her safety belt kept her from sliding into the floorboard. No it was not enough that the Girl's wheels had to be pink with flowers and butterflies, but did they really have to call it a bimbo too I thought plaintively.
Morgan greeted us by opening up the garage and we wedged Flower-Power in with an SUV. Do not even start with me. I will live with calling our wheels Flower-Power but I am not, repeat NOT, addressing our car as BIMBO!
As we sidestepped out of the crowded garage, I could see that by the serious look on Morgan’s face we had other problems. Anza and I took a deep breath. Here we go again!
Inside the den, everyone was present, even Tom. He had his arms crossed and was definitely not happy. At least he was participating now. Morgan cleared his throat. “I have good news and bad news guys. “We have found Mike and know who those guys were that chased you two away from the mall,” looking at Anza and me.”
Tom spoke with his usual rapid fire blurt that took me a bit to catch to understand. Though it all he did not meet out eyes even once. “They are this world's organization for fighting supervillains. They’re called ULTIMATE “
“United Law-enforcement Tribunal for Metahuman Affairs, Terrestrial and Extraterrestrial,” Morgan interjected.
“They mostly have high tech equipment and Special Ops type troops like SWAT. Tom continued pausing for breath. “There are superheroes working with them, but from what I've read the team’s uses is more political than anything else.”
Morgan gave us more details in a more understandable speed. “ULTIMATE really prefers not to use its superhero teams since at some level they hate to admit they have to depend on the teams. From the little reading we've been able to do, they are really the last resort because the landscape is not really the same afterwards. We saw an example of that today at the mall. They also in theory regulate superheroes worldwide by requiring them to be registered. Apparently, we are all breaking a law because we are not registered here far as we can tell.”
Morgan took a deep breath and somehow I knew it was going to be bad; I was right. “Mike apparently fell out of thin air this morning at the park. Security cameras caught him as he splashed into the river. Some joggers helped drag him out, but ULTIMATE took him in for questioning given his unusual arrival. From what Tom and I could tell from the video, he looks the same as always and hasn’t been transformed as we have.
It is possible he hasn't a clue about what is going on and worse he knows all of our secret identities, our powers and weaknesses. I'm afraid he might give us away not knowing what the situation is here.” Looking at Anza, Morgan continued, “If they have an esper or mind reader like Anza that's a moot question. These people feel they are totally justified no matter what they do because of the greater good.”
The group erupted into hysterical chatter. The huge knot in my gut this time dwarfed the previous one. This one was a great big nasty one that when it went critical it would put the 100-megaton Tsar nuclear bomb to shame! We did not dare try to break him out. Even if our last debacle at the mall had not amply demonstrated, we were not anywhere near ready for prime time. Hell, we did not' even know where he was being held. Besides that would guarantee we would be placed on someone’s 'most wanted' list. Anza and I wanted to start new lives, not start living on the run! That is when I remembered the envelopes Anza was carrying and the color orange triggered an idea.
Depending on our mental link to catch her attention I asked “Anza could I have the envelopes if you please?”
I knew she would argue for just waiting to see what would happen as the least worse of our possible choices. Her wonderfully deep chocolate eyes were blinking; I could see her wondering why I wanted to bring those up now.
“When life hands you crap, make explosives!” I said winking at her referring to the nitrates that form on the foul smelling stuff. Do not look at me that way I have never claimed to be anything other than a nerdy gaming geek!
Waving the orange envelopes to catch everyone’s attention, I shouted, “Listen up!” When the guys finally quieted down enough for me to speak, I continued, “These were on our car when we picked it up. One is just a standard form, but it tells us the authorities know our car was at the scene. The other is a note from the Question.”
Mark and Will's eyes kinda of bulged out a bit, but Tom just gave me an accusing sneer that made me very glad I could not mind-read. The disgust coming off him was like something nasty left out in the sun too long. “We got involved at the mall to start with when someone started throwing cars. The Question showed up and shoved our car out of the way of one of them. He noticed at the time because it wasn't even dented. Then he jumped away to enter the brawl. He probably remembered the incident and put two and two together after he saw us. The note simply asks for us to call him on some toll free line.”
Holding up my hands, I kept on talking. “If he was going to set these ULTIMATE people on us we would already have them busting though the windows. I'm suggesting we meet and come at least partially clean with him. He might be able to intercede with them on Mike's behalf. If everything goes south, he only got a good look at me although Anza and Morgan were with me. Anza might be at risk but Morgan I think is safe because he was in disguise at the time.”
Morgan rubbed his chin as he considered my plan. “That's not a bad idea. We get to control the situation somewhat and, though I hate to agree, you two are our biggest liabilities right now. If this works, we get an ally and, hopefully, Mike with some solid information on what's going on. Sorry Will but I think Mystery's plan is better than your frontal assault. ”
The big Indian just smiled. “I wasn't happy with it either, but we just can't leave Mike in there–not just for what he could tell them. You don't leave your own with fanatics. I hope her plan works.” He was giving Tom a disapproving stare at his snubbing us.
Tom shifted uncomfortably. “You should use one of those disposable cell phones. Just make sure you pay for it with cash to erase any possible money trails.”
Mark added, “We can leave your car here and take the Limo with its dark windows.”
And so began the planning session. In the end, it was decided Morgan would purchase not one but several phones using her feminine mode as a disguise. Mark would drive us over, but I would be the point man, err, person. Anza and Morgan would be nearby to help if things fell apart. Will and Tom were not supposed to be part of this at all, but Will dug in his heels and insisted. Tom, after a glare from Will, went along with the slightly altered plan of the two of them in that oversize pickup of Will's.
As far as plans went it was not a bad one, but I could not help worrying what would go wrong this time. Plans never work the way they are suppose to, but are invaluable because of the research and preparation that go into them. That knowledge often give you the edge you need to succeed despite when the situation turns into a “Situation Normal All Fouled-Up” Snafu for short in military speak.
Looking around as we were getting set to head out to put Operation Peace Conference into action, I knew my friends were all good people; yes, even Tom. I might want to go over and wipe that disgusted look off his face, but he was still my friend. I was getting the feeling that his attitude had something to do with stuff in his past. Who am I to cast the first stone when some could consider so much in my own past questionable? What counts is how he deals with his problems now.
We all piled into our respective transports, and we were off. The three of us were sitting in the back just trying to get comfortable when Anza and I shared a mischievous thought. Giggling together, Morgan raised her eyebrows as she morphed to her Fem mode. She had on the same clothes she had on earlier before the Battle of the Mall. Not sure how that worked but hey, Once again, who am to cast stones? Cape frequently seems to violate natural laws so I try not to look a gift horse in the mouth, if you know what I mean.
"Mark," she warned. “Be ready for a surprise at our first stop.” I told him, giggling with my lover like a pair of schoolgirls.
Morgan dryly asked, “I don't suppose you're going to be forthcoming about what you two are up to, are you?”
Anza very maturely stuck out her tongue. “No! You can find out the same way we did. ”
I was trying to suppress a tremor that tingled from my nose to my toes at her sassy response. I could feel us start to slow and darn if we did not start giggling together again. I was under the influence of deadly hormones doctor. It was not my fault. I giggled myself to death!
From the front, Mark announced, “We’re coming up to a stop sign. Just please leave the car in one piece, OK?”
Together we sang out, “Computer on! Disregard all queries that do not begin with ‘Computer!’”
“Limousine-Information-Mobile-On-board-Utility-System-Independent-Navigation-Elite voice activation system on-line. Affirmative, Accepting only queries beginning with 'Computer.”
An incredulous Mark exclaimed, “We have a KITT?!!” He meant of course, Komputer Integrated Tactical Transport from that old campy TV show from the '80s.
Anza rolled her eyes. “Boys and their toys. We almost crashed when ours turned on and he thinks he has a new toy to play with! ”
Answering Morgan's unasked question I replied, “Yes we just found out about this on the way back from the Mall. We didn't have chance to tell anyone because of your good news/bad news announcement. If it is like the one in Flower-Power, it is just a computer with an advanced voice recognition system. We didn't get any useful information from ours, but who knows we might get lucky!”
“Computer,” Morgan asked, “Is Misty's statement correct?”
“Affirmative, this unit is a computer with advanced systems,” intoned the voice from the speakers.
I am not going to repeat all that happened during Morgan’s interrogation of LIMO but that it was mostly the same the one we gave Flower-Power. One of the things that did come up was that like the car in the Agent 000, movies it could alter its license plates and outer color. We used that feature when we stopped at a Fast Stop convenience store for the phones and after activating them, suddenly it was show time.
I have never been a fan of telephones because my bad hearing made it something of an ordeal. Now here I was about to play Mata Hari using one. She had been an exotic dancer too and I remembered all too well, what had been her fate.
Dialing the toll free number, I swallowed nervously as I got an answer. Anza and Morgan clustered in close to hear.
“You have reached the New Riverside Warders. If this is an emergency, please dial 911. If you have a touch tone phone please press one otherwise stay on the line for operator assistance.
Wonderful, even the Superhero headquarters has an automated phone system. Okay we want to speak to some one so let us stay on the line. A short muzak wait later, I was answered again.
NRW: “This is the New Riverside Warders operator how my I assist you?”
Me: “Hmm I got a note on my car to call this number. It looks like it was signed by the Question.”
NRW: “Can you hold please?”
Me: “Ah, yes.”
We waited while I was all-to-aware that I had not one, but two beautiful women nearly in my lap. One was the love of my life and the other a good friend. Part of me was still boggling at the changes that had taken place in my life in a mere 24 hours; what a difference just changing worlds make.
Question: “Yes, is this one of the young women that was in the pink VW earlier today at the Clairmont Mall?”
Me: “Yes you saved us from a falling Camry. Thank you.”
Question: “May I say you have an unusually interesting car? The reason I left the note was I was curious if from your rather unique location if you had seen anything that might give us a lead on those new masked Capes that appeared today. They helped save some bystanders today, but seeing how they are apparently unregistered they are wanted for questioning.”
Me: “First let me thank you for saving us earlier. We aren't from around here and had never been involved in anything like that before. You know the guys with guns running around and the helicopters flying all about. WE just didn't know the correct things to do with all that stuff being thrown about. We would be glad to speak to you about what happened. Could we meet you some place kinda relaxed? Going to your headquarters would be just too much for little ole me. Some place where no one's secret identity would be exposed?”
Question: “I see. May I suggest Masks? It is in the Downtown area and is known for its confidentiality? Say 6 pm tonight? Just tell the Majordomo the password Pineapple and that will get you inside.”
Stifling a laugh at his secret password, I looked to my two eavesdroppers to see what they thought. They nodded their accent while biting back their own giggles at the silly password.
Me: “That would be fine Mr. Question. We will see you there.”
I turned off the phone breathing a sigh of relief that it was over. Anza and Morgan were laughing and I asked, “What?”
“Are you sure you haven't done this before girlfriend?” Miming my southern accent, Anza asked, “It would be just too much for little ole me! Mr. Question!”
“What type of intelligence work did you do again Misty?” Morgan half giggled. “You sure you weren't having us on while all along you were some sort of super spy?”
Primly I responded, “I'll have you know I worked in a small cubical in an office, with no windows, with armed guards at the exits. I looked at maps and pictures all day long, but I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
For some reason that just made them laugh harder. Helpless I looked to Mark for help but the coward just gave me a straight face as he raised the privacy screen. Pouting I crossed my arms in disgust, but could not help myself from joining in as LIMO rolled down the road.
Several hours later found us downtown at the nightclub: MASKS, the neon sign advertised. Anza and Morgan was already inside after being dropped off earlier. Mark had then used the LIMO's newly discovered license plate switcher to confuse any watchers when he later delivered me to the front door too.
Anza told me, using mental communication, they had gotten inside club Masks and that Question was playing fair so far. It seemed Masks was a semi-private club where to enter you had to have the permission of a member to enter. All of us had been concerned we were being setup, but Anza, doing a bit of surreptitious mind reading, greatly relieved that worry. It had been child's play to convince the goon at the door to let them enter. Not that he had needed much convincing the way Anza had him wrapped around her finger. I almost hurt myself when she sent me an image of her arching her back, causing other parts of her anatomy to rise, saying to me, “The force can have a strong influence on the weak minded.”
Just being here would be enough to have as me nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof but Cape had gotten into the act as well. The outfit it had whipped up had started as the infamous Little Black Dress. Using its own special mojo Cape had given it a holographic effect that made it sparkle, but also a shine like latex, depending on the viewer’s angle. Top this with patent leather half boots with two-inch heels and a matching evening bag. All that was needed to complete the picture was a neon sign over my head flashing 'look at me!' Oh, you say the heels sound a little short for an outfit like this? Let me tell you sister, Cape and I had it out over those 4-inch ankle twisters it wanted me to wear. If I had to look like meat on the hoof for any male within eyesight, I damn well wanted to be able to run away!
I walked up to the goon, as Anza had called him; she was not far wrong. Jeez, he towered over me like some professional football player or wrestler. I gave him the password and he very politely let me inside. Once inside I found out why it was called Masks. The coat check girl there gave me a domino mask that apparently all the guests had to wear. Kinda thin on disguise but it was better than nothing I guess. The goon from outside must have been in contact with the majordomo. As soon as I entered, he led me to a table.
I twitched my eyebrows as Cape incorporated the borrowed mask into itself with a tingle. Self consciously pulling a mirror out that made my male reflexes rebel, I sighed seeing my mask now had the same shimmering qualities of the rest of my outfit. Sometimes I think Cape is fussier about fashion than any fashion designers on TV are.
Chocolate milk is my drink of choice for I don't care much for alcohol, but it didn't exactly fit my current surroundings so on Anza’s recommendation I ordered a virgin daiquiri. Sitting there on display, I had time to think about all my contradictory feelings. Part of me was thrilled to death about being beautiful and able to wear such things. My remaining male portions were self-conscious and horrified of being in public so attired. What was worse every man who stared at me reinforced that and Cape’s empathy made certain I knew. I was breaking out in Goosebumps, but I can assure you it was not because of the air conditioning.
Finally, Cape alerted me to our host approaching the table. I almost giggled because he looked so much like Mr. Marvel from that film the “Marvels” where Mr. Marvel comes in to dine with the Femme Fatale after defeating the giant robot. I mean with his build, wearing the tuxedo and mask he was a dead ringer, except maybe for being Black and not Caucasian. It also made me aware he was showing a lot of trust in us by revealing even that much.
My friends and I may be gaming geeks of the sort many admonish, 'to go get a life,' but we are not ignorant. Just because this guy has the urge to run around in tights, fighting crime does not mean he is a person we could trust. Comics are filled with flawed heroes and real life has more than its share examples of once admirable role-models who have fallen from grace. Thus far, since Question had shown willingness to give us the benefit of a doubt, so would we.
“Miss?” he asked in a deep baritone.
Trying to smile I replied, “Please call me Mystery, Mr....?”
Doing a much better job of smiling than I, he said, “’Q’ will do just nicely for now, Miss Mystery. Please, I am here attempting to keep any more misunderstandings from causing any additional unfortunate ‘incidents’.”
I felt Anza’s presence within from our bond as she listened with me. “Believe me 'Q’, we have no desire to further complicate our situation. I'm going to speak a little bluntly so please forgive me.”
He raised his eyebrows, but said, “My home has become a battleground. The time for half measures has long passed, but I am an honorable man. Please let us resolve our problems.”
I took a deep breath and felt Anza's support as she passed along Morgan's encouragement as well. “My friends and I are indeed not from here. As far as we can determine we are from a different world, and may well be from another dimension or even universe. We thought we were going to be involved in some sort of simulation, but instead found ourselves here. The simulation goal was to have us uncover the true purpose and leader of this new Syndicate.”
His eyes opened wider in hope, “So you were sent here to help us stop this madness?”
I sighed, “It's a little more complicated than that. In our own time and place, we were all normal people. Here some of us have not only radically changed form but have abilities we never had before. If that wasn't enough, we were expected to work undercover to ferret out leads to the Syndicate, something none of us have trained for or have the experience for.”
With a pained expression, 'Q' rubbed the bridge of his nose as began to see. “So what you're saying is your entire group has only just received their powers and abilities. Worse you've all been thrown into the deep end with little to no preparation.”
His intelligent eyes looked up into mine as he reasoned it out, “All of you are obviously in very precarious position so why are you telling me all of this? You might be new at all of this but none of you seem slow on the uptake.”
Slow on the uptake he says! If he only knew how over our heads we were! “We have a big problem. You see just after that mess at the mall happened, someone who just might have some answers dropped out of the clear blue sky today.”
'Q' winced in pain. “He wouldn't happen to be in custody with ULTIMATE right now would he after being pulled from the river?” One hand massaged a temple as he took a long swallow of his drink at my slow nod. “And this is how bad?”
“This is very, very, bad because he knows all of our secret identities, abilities and weaknesses. We were trying to meet and figure out what to do as well as recover from the shock of our transformations when we were caught up in that trouble at the mall. If ULTIMATE gets this information, they could force us into working for them. That would be bad because that could prevent us from trying to get home,” I said as dead serious as I could. “Some of us were ready to assault the place not because we wanted to but because we felt we had no choice at all.”
He almost spit his drink across the table. “Are You Insane?” Looking around he lowered his voice. “That place is a fortress not to mention the number of innocent people that would hurt doing something like that.”
Nodding my head, I agreed with him. “Yes we know. Moreover, even more to the point we know the chances of success is damn slim. He is our friend but if that wasn't enough of a reason would you hand over every bit of personal information to ULTIMATE? I know you have to be registered, but are there not a few things you've kept from them? In truth, my friends are closer to me than family and with each held hostage for the behavior of the other, we would be helpless. They would force us to do nothing because of their political considerations. Look what they’ve done here so far. There should at least one of their Supersuit Teams here but what have they done? Sent a few dozen troopers and helicopters that had the good sense not to get in the middle of ground zero today? Please help us and get our friend released!”
Anza hissed at me in my mind to take Q’s hand, while what was left of my male ego responded 'not a flacking chance in hell!' However, firmly pushing my reservations into the closet, I raised another crop of Goosebumps as I reached across the table and grasped his hand. “Please?”
The whole while he had been trying to take in all I was saying. When I took his hand, he blushed. “None of that girl! If my wife saw that she would make both of our lives hell!” jerking it a safe distance away.
“Can you hold your friends back for 24 hours while I try to get him free?” He asked.
I had no trouble sounding relived for Cape's empathy assured that he was sincere and would try. “Yes! None of us want a SWAT team swinging though our windows in the middle of the night!” We both relaxed a little. “There is another matter that perhaps you could offer some advice?”
Question with a cautious expression bargained, “That would depend on what you want to know and what you are offering. You want an awful lot from me, but haven't given much return except to say you won't cause any trouble for 24 hours.”
I could feel Anza filling in Morgan and Morgan's frustration at dealing with this third handed, as it were. Smiling sweetly to buy some time for Anza to relay Morgan's reply I pointed out, “By helping us you help yourself. You want the Syndicate brought down and we have the same goal if we ever want to get home again. Keeping ULTIMATE from interfering with us gives you an entire team of Masks to help you do that.”
Taking a sip of my drink to buy more time I watched him consider our proposal. He and the Warders had one hell of a crappy problem. They and the few independent Supersuits in New Riverside were dealing with nothing short of a Supervillain turf war — winner takes all.
“What we need is a place to practice and see just what we can do without the danger of hurting someone else. Preferably, with some privacy so we can really cut loose. We were very lucky today, but regardless, we couldn't stand by without helping those poor folks caught in the middle of that demolition derby today.” I finished and felt Anza's agreement with me.
Signaling for a waiter, Question downed his drink. “Ok, there’s an old rock quarry about a half hour outside of town that an old adversary of ours used to have as his headquarters. We sometimes use it to take care of business out of the limelight. That would keep you out of possible trouble for now and give you a place to practice.” Giving me a long measuring look, he asked, “And you haven't any experience or training either in combat or teamwork?”
I heard Anza's mental reply. “Only in simulation captain” and stifled a laugh. “That is correct for the most part. We have worked together in Sims but not in these forms or with these powers.” Waving my hands, I indicated myself.
The waiter returned with refills and Question snagged pen and paper from him. Give that one a tip! While writing down the directions and pass codes to the quarry he said, “There are facilities there but they are primitive. A trio of robots maintains and guards the base but these codes will get you pass them. Just make sure to bring your own food and stuff. With luck I'll be able to bring your friend there in a few days.” He handed it to me. “Good enough?”
I asked Cape if I could trust this man, but I already knew the answer. This might all go to hell in a hand basket but Question would do the best he could to keep his word. “Good enough.”
I got an itch between my shoulder blades and caught Question looking like a kid with his hand in the candy jar. I turned and saw a fashionable dressed woman giving me hostile looks. On a hunch I said, “I think your wife has had enough waiting on you to complete your ‘business’ tonight 'Q',” I said, giggling at his discomfort.
Cape somehow took a twenty from my purse and got it to my hand without being seen. That started me thinking just out much of the stuff I carried was a part of it. I knew it invisibly covered me, but didn't really know just how much. It had to have eaten the twenty or something and then reassembled it within my hand from what, part of my hand maybe? There are some things it is better not knowing. Besides the point, the look on Question's face when I plucked that twenty out of the air was priceless. He was used to seeing the impossible everyday so it was likely a rare event when something got by him.
Leaving the money on the table, I got up. “Thank you for your help.” A worried look showed on his face despite the mask. “Don't worry,” I said, “I may be many things but the 'other woman' is not one of them!”
I somehow kept from falling down laughing on the floor at Anza's mental remark as I left him to make explanations to his wife. “You damn well had better not be!”
It took a while to get everyone picked up and back to the mansion during which, due to popular vote an Emperor Burger’s drive-thru became our next stop. Will and Tom had stopped at one while I had been making do with sweet fruity drinks, but now the rest of us needed food.
Heroes of Justice: Not something you see everyday!
The scene on the kitchen table was a familiar one with its creeping mound of grease-stained fast-food bags, wrappers, and boxes. It almost was like back home after a game session with everyone comparing notes and thoughts while hungrily eating. Slurping nosily on my deluxe sized shake, chocolate of course, I saw that the lipstick prints on the straw spoiled that illusion immediately.
Oh, there were other clear signs we were not back home. Tom was clearly ignoring us, winkling his nose at all the scents while Mark talked to him. Morgan was back in male mode but projecting the map and instructions Question had given us in midair like a living holographic machine. Will munching down on a handful of Walloper burgers and fries while one handed fidgeted with a 20 lb weight. The warm wet feeling I was feeling below, under Anza's smoldering graze, was yet another sign that, yep, we certainly weren't back home, thank you Gawd!
We had a lot to discuss between my meeting with Question and the discoveries that our vehicles weren't exactly off the showroom floor. That brought up the item that Mike had said about Will's helicopter having a really honest-to-god A. I. aboard it. We had not gotten much information from our car’s computers, and we all felt an A.I. should be eons beyond what they demonstrated.
Even Tom agreed that we needed to know as much as we could, and that meant knowing more about our transports. He and Will had gone over Will's pickup but it seemed to be just a pickup. However, a Habu sports car in the garage did answer the 'computer on' wakeup call.
Strangely that left Morgan and either Anza or myself without some sort of enhanced wheels. That did not brother Anza or me any because we had grown so close enough sharing was natural. Heck, I think we liked it better that way. If it only had more of a muscle car look.
Morgan, I think, felt a little left out, but Mark pointed out that he had not even been home to his apartment yet, so who knew what might be there. Moreover, I was wondering just how much his transformation was contributing his moping. In female mode, she seemed very natural and happy. Was she in denial of how she really felt? I did not know, but knew I would try to be there for her. No matter if a she, a he or somewhere-in-between; Morgan was my friend.
With that in mind, we decided a camping trip was in order. There was this small matter of us all having jobs we did not have a clue how to perform so leaving town and hiding sounded like a good idea. Anza and I was kinda hot property after being on not only the official radar at the mall but Tony the Tiger's at Twin Peaks too. We would see just how much Flower-Power could disguise itself and head back to our place for hygienic materials and clothes.
Will would take Morgan home in that 4X4 truck of his to check it out and gather supplies as well as dropping by Will's place to get his stuff. They would then head to the heliport to see if they could get the AI to fly the helicopter to the quarry. Tom and Mark would head out shopping for camping supplies from the accumulated stack of bills all of us contributed from our ready cash.
Tom had also elected to try to use his ATM card. He had pointed out how our real names were used for personal stuff such as listings on the phones so he was guessing it was our birthdays. That was actually a darn good idea. Now if he would ditch that attitude of his, we would be getting somewhere!
I claimed the driver's seat and we were off. Anza got us off to a good start when she successfully convinced our computer to change our color scheme. It had this convenient function that would gradually change Flower-Power's outward color scheme so this black VW would leave point ‘A’ but a pink one would arrive at point ‘B‘. It was just the thing to confuse watchers from using those traffic cams to track us.
We got to the little place we called home and started packing for our trip. I am not going to go into about detail what happened when we finally had some time alone except to say we made up any lost time by telekinesis and Cape lending an extra 'hand'. Beside it ain't none of your beeswax anyhow, thank you very much!
You should have seen my face when Anza started tossing tampons and pads into a bag. I for one, wish she had not brought it up. She gave me a matter of fact look that made me think that she was even looking forward to her first pe, per, per, drat! I cannot even say it! Despite all of that, we were soon on our way.
Will gave us a call that everything was fine at their end. Morgan was riding a motorcycle and was going to meet us. He had all their gear on Screaming Mimi and was heading to Point Luck to give it a look over before the rest of us arrived.
Anza gave me a confused look. “I know he must be talking about the quarry but why Point Luck?”
I smiled. “Morgan knows I'm a history buff. Point Luck was the rendezvous point where the American Carrier Strike Force waited for the attacking Japanese Fleet. I'm surprise you didn't recognize it. Point Luck was used in the movie ’Midway’,” I teased her about being such a moviephile. “What is the 'Screaming Mimi' reference about? All I know about that was it the nickname of a German rocket during WWII, but I don't think he had that in mind.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “So I missed that one. You don't know about ‘Riptide’? It was a Detective buddy series from the ‘80’s. They had an old pink helicopter they called the Screaming Mimi. You know the Boz and Robo-Boz?”
I tried to say something snappy back but was blushing too furiously from thinking naughty thoughts from Anza's cheating by using her tongue for something other than talking! She started laughing and helplessly I joined in. Isn't love grand?
Anza and I made our next stop at a neighborhood Food Tiger grocery. Grabbing a pair of shopping buggies we loaded down them down with everything, a group of hungry campers needed. We did get some odd looks. After all, it was November, a warm November perhaps but still late Autumn. Maybe they were staring at the good-looking babes running amok in the store at closing time on a Sunday night. It was a challenge, but we did pack everything into Flower-Power although the Styrofoam coolers full of ice and perishables were an interesting load problem.
We met the rest of the crew at the local S-Mart department store parking lot having made a big dent in our available ready cash funds. Tom's experiment with his ATM card had been a success and while he did not say how much he had had found in his account; his smug look suggested it was 'fat.' We were still pariahs in his eyes, but at least his temper tandems had eased off. Now he was down to giving us the evil eye.
Then Morgan pulled up on this big Harley with a shit-eating grin on his face. Anza and I traded a thought and a look: “Boys and their toys!”
The guys clustered around the bike making oohs and ahs. Personally, I kinda liked Tom's bright red Habu sports car. Just sitting still, it looked if it was breaking the speed limit. I resisted the impulse of going over and really salivating over it. He would just find it an excuse to complain about us again. It would be best to give him more time now that we were sorta working together again as a team.
After the vehicle admiring session was over, we started our convoy over. I guess we were an oddball group a VW, Limo, Habu, and a Harley. We had a rather nice drive with the only excitement being a County Mountie getting some radar hits. Flower-Power, not ‘Bimbo’ thank you very much, alerted us to the radar beam and popped up a graphic identifying the location and the type of radar. That enabled the night vision system, and the radar jammer, which was cool.
We drove by the cop, waving and giggling! Anza was operating the radio and soon we were singing along with Nancy Nitro, whoever she was. It was too bad we had the top up but as tightly packed as we were, our poor wheels would have exploded into a geyser of food, panties and tampons!
As we got close to Question's quarry our night vision system picked up Will and his helicopter whirling about overhead. That was just before Flower-Power gave us another warning that another radar beam was hitting us. It seemed this was the place. Anza's peculiar sense of humor made her order Flower-Power to change its warning alarms. The tones and beeps were annoying but they were supposed to be to catch your attention. Anza had the computer respond with Warning, Warning ......insert name of driver. You guessed it for more dire alerts, Danger! Danger! .......with the name of who ever was driving. Well at least she left out the “Will Robinson,” so that is something.
Morgan beat us to the gate and entered the code. A heartbeat later, we were bumping down the dirt road. The road was well maintained and made a massive corkscrew around the perimeter of the quarry. In its day, it must have been a massive operation because there was even a rail spur: the abandoned equipment still here. Amazingly, a tunnel was cut though one side, for ore trains I guess. Street-type lights with some kind of motion sensors came on, lighting our path like out of some eerie sci-fi thriller.
When you think of such places, it's the huge angry gash cut into Mother Earth that grabs your attention. Here almost everything was covered in greenery. Ok, it was only kinda, sorta green. This being Autumn, it was more like brown. Trees grew by the roadside in corkscrewing terraces as Mother Earth reclaimed what was hers.
By the time we got to the bottom, I could see some of the smoke and mirrors at work disguising this place's true purpose. That abandoned equipment was actually huge workout gear. I was becoming curious if Question was consciously imitating 'The Marvels' movie because it reminded me very much of the work out scenes with Mr. Marvel working out with locomotives and freight cars.
I got another look at that railway tunnel and that is where the rest of the veneer on this illusion started wearing very thin. It was too darn smooth and straight. The tunnel would have to been dug after the quarry had gotten this deep. Most quarries would just have cut right into the side of the hill not just cored the center out of it. Nope, this looked like a quarry but it in reality was something else. This far from the city looking up out of this titanic hole in the hillside the night sky was as deep black as the rural area where I grew up.
The stars burned above, stretching into infinity. Turning in a slow spin, I drank in their beauty as I realized that we had indeed traveled far. I recognized the Big and Little Dipper although the rim of the quarry limited the view. In the background, I heard the guys joking and talking as they looked around. Tom's comment about me being a space case bothered me not at all. He was the one who was blind to the wonders about and above him.
Anza came up to me. “Are you all right luv'?”
Taking a deep breath, I knew it was time to re-enter reality where everyone else was. “Yes, I'm fine hon. it just hit me just how far from a familiar shore we’ve been cast. Here we are at a real honest-to-Gawd Supervillain base. Abandoned or not, this entire place was built to help someone to try to take over the world. We have nothing like this back home.”
She just smiled enjoying not only the view but also my reaction to all of this. “What about Macrosoft Headquarters?”
I returned her smile. “You have a telling point. So Gill Bates is a Master Mind trying to take over the world every night?” I laughed. “No don't answer that! Silly question of course he is, or maybe he already has!”
We turned to unload the supplies when Cape tapped me on the shoulder. That is when we saw the robots. There were three of them just as we just like Question said. One was forward talking with Morgan while the other two were obliviously covering it. They stood about five feet tall but squat and compact with a tank like treads with a vaguely humanoid torso on top. Each had two arms, with one arm having pincers and the other with a more human-like hand. On their backs was some kind of multi-purpose boom tool arm that stored a variety of different tools, including weapons. All which were armed and pointed at us.
“Your party is in a restricted area. Leave immediately or give the password. You have 60 seconds to comply.”
We froze. Morgan told it our password and the robots retracted their weapons, pivoting on their treads left us. A pale Morgan shakily demanded, “Next time one of YOU get to give those things the password!”
Mark passed him a brew that they must have gotten from the S-Mart. Morgan accepted with thanks. He offered us each one as well. I politely declined although Anza accepted. While they celebrated not being shot by robots, I started unloading our gear.
Opening the door to the building nestled next to the Quarry wall; I walked into the kitchen area. The lights were already on and a quick check revealed the fridge although empty was on and cooling down fast. It took just a moment to put up the groceries. Anza came in carrying all of our stuff at once with her telekinesis and with some maneuvering, got herself in the door and down the hallway. Curious I struck my head in the two large rooms nearest the kitchen and found one was a briefing room while the other was a recreation room with a pool table and a large screen TV. Further down were about a dozen small bedrooms. They reminded me of my Army days being basic two-man affairs with twin beds and dressers.
We picked a room, pushed the beds together and dumped our stuff onto it. I left her sorting through our belongings while I headed back into the fray after hearing the guys petitioning for aid. Making a command decision, I directed the flow to the conference room and its larger table seeing the small one in the kitchen was already swamped and going down fast. Once again, I had fun power-tripping and could see the guys were too.
Going though all the shopping bags and making piles of what went to whom took a while and by that time, we were all winding down. They had not known what facilities were here and so bought accordingly. The Lamps, camping stove and other stuff we did not need, were put aside to be returned. The sleeping bags were definitely going to be put to use, but Anza did give them a look when she saw the girlie ones meant for her and me. “My Little Kitten” and “Hello Pony” themes were a bit young for us. Hey, they were adult sized and if Tom were responsible, he would be appalled to know secretly Anza was tickled pink at his choices. Me, well if she is happy so am I, besides I had always had a soft spot for cats. That one is mine!
As I said, it had been one heck of a day and it was getting late. I think someone may have stayed up a while watching the tube, but Anza and I curled up, spooning, after zipping our bags together. The last thing I remember is her heartbeat lulling me into sleep.
A part of the back wall slid smoothly upwards revealing a passage deeper into the hill. Like the railway tunnel, it was extremely smooth with not a single visible tool mark. The figure within had waited to make sure these newcomers were asleep before daring to come out. Cautiously, it went to the kitchen looking for food. The base had enough food stored to last for years, but although it would keep you alive, tasty it was not.
Carefully it looked for food it could take and not be detected. It found a package of chips opened and left by the TV With a steady hand it measured out an amount that should not be missed. By the door, it found an ice chest full of soda pops and beer. Using a ragged corner of its coveralls to keep from leaving a trail of droplets it took one of the sodas.
Happy with its finds, the figure backtracked back to the wall where it re-entered the sanctuary. The entrance closed silently behind it leaving not a trace of its foray.
Coming awake to the unmistakable smell of bacon cooking I opened my eyes. Yeah, I know it was not healthy but so were most things I really enjoyed. Anza was still asleep and I could not help smiling. If it had been the smell of coffee wafting over us, she would have been up first.
Slipping free of her embrace, Cape dressed me in a pink sweat suit and I went to take care of all those other little chores the morning demanded. Taking care of my altered anatomy was still new enough to me that I was thankful for the privacy.
Feeling a bit more human, I headed towards that delicious odor, and I found Tom, of all people, cooking a huge breakfast. Okay maybe not surprising given his enhanced metabolism, which demanded he eat often.
“Good morning,” I said as politely as I could, “Mind if I grab a cup of coffee?”
He grunted and I took that for a yes. I poured a mug and went back to rouse Anza. I saw Mark on his way to the single bathroom and raised an eyebrow at the towel wrapped around his waist, making my point that for now we were co-ed. Embarrassed he took a moment from ‘checking me out’ to head back to his room for something else to cover up with. I guess I should be glad no one in our gang tried it au natural but being checked out by one of the guys gave me the shivers!
We all had a lot to get use to I thought, shaking my head. If we were ever going to get home, this was only the beginning. Speaking of which, that was another can of worms we had not opened yet. Who wanted to go home and who did not.
Sighing, I sat on the edge of our bed and brought the hot mug near my lover's nose. Like a magic potion, the brew near Anza's nose brought her to life.
With a smile on her face, she reached for the cup. “I could get use to waking up like this.”
Blushing, I gave her nitie-clad shape an appreciative gaze, as she put down her mug. If you want to know what took us so long to get to breakfast, ask someone else. I'm not telling.
We joined the others, who would make a school of piranha look like finicky eaters. I half-way expected Tom to leave nothing for us, but he was acting almost nice today. It was amazing to watch him at work. With his speed, he made one helluva short order cook. Maybe he was not as fast as some of the comicbook super-speedsters, able to break the sound barrier or even out-race light itself, but the blur of knives and spatulas made it worth losing a hand to try to steal a taste!
Morgan started the bull session by suggesting how we should organize the day. I was too busy eating to pay much attention. Seeing how much energy I used for my powers, not to mention Cape who used its share as well, I was not too concerned about gaining weight now and figured I would need the calories. I could see no way our abilities were powered by what we ate, but you would have a hard time proving it by me. My stomach was a black hole that was only momentary satisfied.
Tom must have cook ever bit of breakfast food we brought for three days and this wrecking crew was going to eat every bit of it, Eep! Me thinks we're going to have venture out for more groceries!
While dueling Will with forks for the last couple of flapjacks, I did pick up the gist of Morgan's plan. He was running a version of the old army physical training test. We would use our cars to measure off a course and record our abilities for things like running, push-ups, and then find a way to measure agility.
Later we would see about our specialties such as flight, super-strength and so forth. Morgan did grin and say we would take Anza's mental blasts as a given as since none of us wanted to wake up with a splitting headache.
Some of the preparations were easy when we found a running course already marked out. It turned out LIMO had a laser range finder that worked just as fine as a radar gun. To no one's surprise Tom easily outran the rest of us at blistering 100 mph. That is nearly 161 kph for you metric folks. Will was running an easy second until Mark wolfed-out and dropped to all fours. Even then, it was close, with Mark winning by a nose at nearly fifty mile per hour.
The rest of us still turned in times that would have put us on the track team of our choice back home, averaging around 20 mph. Not world records granted, but not bad for a bunch of gaming geeks. For those who want to know, the World record at least back home was somewhere around 11 to 12 meters per second, say, 23mph/37kph give or take.
The results from the push-ups were not a surprise either except maybe for Mark having some problems. He tried to stay in wolf form but his limbs just would not let him get into the right positions so he had to use his regular human form, poor baby! Everyone did very good of course, even Anza our most non-physical member. Back home I had seen worse cases of couch-potato gamers than we had been, but here all of us were nearly world-class athletes.
While we were doing that, the quarry’s three guardian-robots laid out an obstacle course like the ones seen in so many military films. That made all of us wonder just how smart these things were since this was done without our asking. After our introduction the previous evening, none of us really wanted to go over and chat with the darn things. Getting guns pointed at you tends to do that you know. In only a few minutes, they had the course assembled so we gave it a try.
Finally, something Will did not excel at! Tom ran though it like a ferret on a caffeine buzz, but I did very well too. Mark found his wolf was good for most things, but climbing a rope was not one of them! Anza had a little trouble with some of these, but it was because of technique rather than lack of strength or agility. Will also had some difficulties when he came up to the wall with the cargo net you were expected to climb. He just had so much bulk it was a little awkward for him. Giving up he just leaped over the damn 20 feet tall wall! We had a little argument about if he had fouled, but Morgan ruled in his favor, saying that in a superhero battle, it did not matter how you got over the wall. Come to think of it, he had a point.
We were in good spirits about then and after taking a break started testing our real powers. What can I say? Flying is a rush! As long as we stayed below the quarry edge, we were concealed. Besides Anza and I were the only ones who could fly. Everything was cool until I almost ran into Will, who was trying to see just how far he could leap and damn near cleared the quarry!
Morgan, Tom and Anza then tried their hand at some target practice. Morgan won easily with her lasers. Tom did give her some glances with Morgan being in Fem mode, but did not make a big deal about it. Tom used the bit of telekinesis he had to improve the accuracy of his throwing stars while Anza used whatever was handy to flick with her own TK power.
I did take my turn on those Gawd-awful weight machines. It looked liked an overhead gravel-loading gantry-type structure for ore train cars except it had chains and pulleys attached. On sidetracks there were a variety of cars, pickups, trucks, all adapted to run on rails. All you had to do was move the thing you wanted to lift underneath the gantry, hook up the chains to the lift shackles and start lifting. Except for how large the whole thing was, it was the same as lifting in the gym. For those who were into heavy metal you could try the tank cars, ore carrier or even a locomotive, for goodness sakes!
All I can say is I did manage lift one of those empty tanker cars. It sure was not easy and I had to work at it. Will, on the other hand, just sat there and knocked out some reps using the locomotive.
I should not feel too bad I suppose; no one else could even budge the things! Anza did mange to move a car with her TK, which was darn good! Mark could not lift it but he did tip it over onto its side — which is still impressive.
After a lunch break came what we were all waiting for: the interrogation of the AI in Will's Chopper. He had been silent about what he had learned if anything, on the way over here. When asked, he’d just shrugged. Well here was time to find out for ourselves.
As far as helicopters go it looked liked just another of the Bell Jet Ranger series. You know, holds about seven passengers? Well anyways, take my word they are very common. This one was done up in Channel 7's News Eye In The Sky colors, a burgundy and black two-tone with a large white number seven.
Will sighed as we reached the helicopter. “I'm warning you it's a little, ah, quirky.”
“Who you calling quirky there Tonto?” a voice said from the machine. “And while we're on the subject, who's idea was it to assign the biggest one of you to be my pilot? It's bad enough he doesn't have the slightest idea how to pilot, I also had to make a highly modified pilot's station as well.”
We all looked at Will who had a pained look on his Indian face. “Tonto?”
Looking down at the ground, the big guy said rather sadly, “You might as well introduce yourself.”
“I see you have some manners. Greetings, I am Reid. This machine which houses me is based on a Bell 2006L4 Long Ranger IV Helicopter. I have large number of functions that I am sure your group will find useful,” it said cheerfully.
Anza noticed the pun first of course. “Isn't that supposed to be Lone Ranger and not Long?”
“Perhaps lovely lady, but given how my assigned pilot is of Native American origin I simply couldn't resist the intentional error. Additionally there is the little fact I'm going to be doing most of the work flying since Tonto over there can't,” it said with what sounded like a smirk.
Will looked up. “Hey this isn't my fault! Besides, you said last night you would help teach me to fly. Are you taking that back?” he said with his hands on his hips.
“Seeing how I just witnessed you bench pressing a locomotive that wouldn't be wise of me would it? Please excuse any breach of manners. Like you, I'm trying to determine how I arrived here.”
Morgan who had changed back to his male mode asked, “You mean you don't know how or why you are here either?”
Reid answered, “That is correct in part. I do know that I am here to assist you in your activities. As for how I arrived, I haven't got anymore of an idea than you have. I have memories of being constructed at Cosmic Forge Inc. and know your other vehicles and I were purchased by someone named Horus. The instant of our activation coincided with your arrival.”
A mutter passed among us. I do not think anyone was happy with our lack of information about what was going on.
“Indeed, from what I can gather, you were here brought under what could be called false pretenses. I have complete information regarding this place but I have not found anything that might aid you returning home. There is data regarding the craft Mystery and Esperanza encountered yesterday. It is a variant of the V-22 Osprey tilt-rotor called the Shrike drop-ship. The forward cockpit area is similar to attack helicopters with a weapon turret and pylons for external weapon stores. The rear compartment carries ten Enforcer Powered Armored Exoskeleton Troopers with a rapid deployment system,” Reid informed us. “It is a formidable weapon system, although at this time I can’t calculate the degree of threat to you as a group. Singly, I suspect you would be overwhelmed.”
The guys started wandering away, but I had some more questions. “What do you do when not piloting? Using an AI just as a pilot seems like a waste. ”
“Ha! An intelligent question. Yes, I can pilot this machine, but I am also data-linked to the other vehicles as well. I am not configured to control those vehicles but I can receive and process data they possess. Our data-link is secure and encrypted so it can also be also be used for more than basic communications. As of this moment, I am monitoring the World Wide Web for helpful information, but have not attempted the penetration of any networks. That falls outside of my primary purpose of piloting and support.”
Morgan and I asked a few more questions, but we got the gist. Reid would be a helper, but we were still on our own here.
Bored, the guys had taken the cars in the meanwhile and were racing around the same track we used for running earlier. With a laugh, we joined them although Morgan decided he did not want to be on a motorcycle with crazies like us behind the wheel.
Flower-Power really had more power under the hood than anyone would expect, but we could not compete with the others. Tom seemed to get off on lapping us in his Habu. Hell, he could almost manage that on foot without the car!
Morgan asked us all to give him some private time on the track so we sat and watched him whirl around on his Harley. A mass rumbling of empty stomachs got a laugh from us all, even the sour Tom. Showing off, Tom took off running matching speeds with Morgan to let him know we were going to start supper. Morgan had the advantage in the straightaway, but Tom could corner better. Yep, Power tripping shore ‘nuff!
It was still nice out for November so we decided to grill outside. With everyone helping, in no time at all we had some nice, hot coals with the tantalizing scent of steaks sizzling on the grill. We were relaxing outside full from eating and enjoying ice cold drinks from the guy’s cooler. The robots were busy cleaning up after us and the sun was setting.
I knew we had to make a shopping trip, but really was feeling kinda mellow. Even with all the physical activity none of us seemed to be sore, just a bit tired. With that said, I asked, “Anyone want to go with me to restock from the attack of the killer appetites?”
Anza lazily opened an eye. “Did I ever tell you that you are evil and despicable for suggesting even moving right now?”
I laughed. “You're the one who told me we had to watch our waist lines now that we're girls. So let’s go and work some of it off girlfriend!”
Grudgingly she got changed and met me at Flower-Power which one the robots had washed and polished after our dirt track race. I still did not care too much for robots with guns, being more a fan of Isaac Asimov’s kinder, gentler three laws of robotics. Still, any chore I did not have to do was worth a gold star in my book.
At the last minute, Morgan ran out and flagged us down so he could come along claiming he had some stuff he needed to get. Almost as soon as we cleared the gate at the top of the quarry that I had started calling 'Checkpoint Charlie' Morgan shifted into girl mode. Alright maybe “shimmered” into girlfriend mode was a better term.
Anza and I exchanged a glance, both of us wondering if it was something more. Well if it was, Morgan would let us know. Each of our journeys was an intense personal experience. We would be there for her if needed.
We had a good time during the drive. It was wonderful riding down the road singing with the radio, oh the joys of a convertible! Since Anza was driving this time, I had asked the computer for directions to the nearest full-sized grocer.
It directed us to one of those strip malls built around a grocery store with a pharmacy and a slew of other smaller businesses. This one's Food Tiger had an ATM and I tried Tom's trick of using my birthday for my PIN. I left out the zeros and used the first four numbers: it worked. I checked the balance and it was a year’s pay at least. I withdrew the maximum amount and placed it in my purse for a rainy day.
We had not even gotten down to serious shopping before Cape started sending warning signals. Looking about a little alarmed, we were being eyed with ill intent by a group of young hoodlums. All right maybe they were not but they were dressed in the style popularized by prison inmates. You know the baggy jeans pulled low, cockeyed ball-caps, and barbed-wire tattoos.
What's more, I could 'feel' what they had on their minds with my empathy. Just trust me here that it was not nice at all.
It was about then when the three of us was beginning to realize that we had screwed up. Even Anza who was more knowledgeable about this kind of thing had missed it. None of us had paid any attention that this particular strip mall was on the edge of the city in a neighborhood no one would ever call affluent. As guys, Morgan and I never worried about such things. Anza had enough problems gay bashers in the past to be cautious, but she had been having such a good time she had gotten careless. It probably had not helped matters at all when I took a wad of cash out of that ATM.
Mentally I heard Anza's, "Oh Shit!"
It got quiet except for the store's muzak and the not so whispered rude comments from our would be predators. From their hunter or prey point of view, we were just asking for it. Three young beautiful women casually but expensively attired in the wrong part of town.
We were not talking aloud but using Anza as our switchboard operator we were burning up the aether. I do not think any of us hid our disquiet at being lusted over by those punks very well.
My love threatening to brain burn them into imbeciles declared, "If they so much as touch me, they're going to need help tying their shoes for the rest of their short lives."
Morgan, just as upset but trying not to make thing worse counseled, "Let's not panic ladies. Ignore them. They're not going to try anything here inside where there are cameras and witnesses. You know if you act scared you'll just encourage them."
A little anxiously I guess because I knew exactly what our stalkers wanted to do to us I said, "Besides if it comes to a fight we'll tear them apart though you're right about this being too public."
Anza grudgingly agreed with us, "Alright I guess you're right, but I didn't like it when Mark ogled me yesterday and I like it even less from them!"
"Remember yesterday at the mall when you could've used your TK to just catch that car throw at us?" Morgan reminded her. "Don't forget your other options. You can order them to leave us alone or suggest they have to use the restroom urgently using your powers."
Anza recovering a little of her humor replied, "Oh, I get it, just shop causal like. If they try anything I‘ll keep that in mind."
It seemed to last for minutes but our mental communications had really only taken a few seconds. I think it took us longer to shake off the intensity of the mental rapport then the entire conversation did.
As unnerving as it was we did our shopping with our unwanted spectators. I was quickly learning the downside of being Mystery. While Morgan was aware of the problem she was able to concentrate on ignoring our gangsters wanna'-be's I could not. My empathic power gave me a constant update every time they saw hmmm... something that visually simulated them.
It was nearly as bad as that nightmarish experience at Twin Peaks the strip club. Despite the fact I could break every bone in their bodies without breaking a sweat what I was feeling scared me. For the first time I thought about wanting go back to being Greg and male again just so they would not look at me that way. That did not last very long but did get me to thinking about other things that would make them leave us alone.
About then Anza laid her hand upon mine and I felt the love she held for me. Of course, she knew how I was feeling because of our bond/link. Her love steadied me and allowed my thoughts to consider how to make them leave us be. They would not be giving us a problem if there was a cop about but of course, there is never one around when you need one.
Then I had a thought. "Badges, we need some stinking badges!" my brains misquoted.
"Girls,” I asked telepathically. "I have an idea. Would you mind playing along? I promise I'm not going break anybody's bones, okay?"
Morgan thought back me via Anza, "I hate to ask, but what exactly is this plan?"
Thinking to Cape I asked it as I stepped behind my friends out of site of my audience, "I need some clothing accessories. A belt decoration that looks like this." I requested visualizing a policeman's shield complete with leather backing and belt clip. Since what I was wearing left no room for anything like a shoulder holster I tried simply for a pistol shaped lump under my blouse.
I leaned over and thinking of that old "Police Woman" show, whispered in Morgan's ear, "Just call me Angie Dickinson."
She gave me a long suffering sigh, "I don't suppose you can pull more of those from the air can you?"
Cape gave me an answer that I had to take a moment to decipher. Do not tell me you can not figure out what your dog or cat is saying you. It just takes a few false tries sometimes.
"Yes," I replied smiling palming a fake badge into her hand. "We can't do the dummy weapons, but how are these?"
Morgan just shrugged and clipped it to her belt arranging her top to just cover it while Cape did the same for me.
Anza was stifling a giggle as she tried to ignore our antics. I stepped next to her and passed another fake badge to her. Stealing Earl Holliman's tag line she whispered, "Freeze Turkey".
The hard part was waiting while the young delinquents took notice. It was longer than I would have liked because it wasn't our beltline they were staring at. Once they did to say they quickly lost interest was an understatement. After they wandered away all three of us breathed a little easier.
On another note, I didn’t noticed Morgan buying up anything that seemed critical to me so I was guessing she just wanted some girl time. That was fine with Anza and me for we had plenty to spare now!
Morgan and Anza did hit the pharmacy next door for what they regarded as needed medical supplies. Then it was time to head back to the hole. We did see our young trouble makers on the way to Flower-power, but evidently the fake badges had worked.
It was cooler out now and besides with all the food we needed to put the top back up. Still the ride back was nice. Luckily we breezed though Checkpoint Charlie without having to give Huey, Dewey and Louie the passwords again. Soon we pulled to where the guys were still sitting around the remains of the grill pit, talking about the usually guy stuff I guess. One thing though, Morgan did change back to male before we entered the gate.
I opened the door and there was someone pawing though our leftovers! With both arms full of bags that I couldn't drop there wasn't a thing I could do. Frightened the intruder looked up at me and lighting-fast, darted into the conference room before I could say a word.
Nearly throwing the bags down on the table, I flew into the room after them. Only there wasn't anyone there! I looked everywhere, but my intruder had seemed to disappeared into thin air.
Anza called from the kitchen, “Misty, what's going on?”
I could feel her curiosity but I was half wondering if I hadn’t imagined it all. “Nothing love, thought I saw something, but it was nothing.”
She shrugged. “Let's put up this stuff, then we can relax some, ” She said, suggestively raising her eyebrows.
Giving the room one last look, I decided that no real harm was about, but I would keep my eyes open. Later that night thinking back about it before sleep overcame me, hmmm... Mystery’s got a mystery!
Clutching the bits of grilled meat, the ragged figure shivered in fear, its heart beating in panic. Never should have dared while they were still awake. But the meat smelled so good! It carefully listened for sounds of pursuit but heard none.
Soon the temptation of the grilled meat overcame the fear. Half wild it gnawed at the feast and licked every finger clean afterwards. A small internal voice advised that Nurse would've been unhappy with the finger licking. But it really didn't matter it told itself sadly,: manners and being happy were for viables not for defectives.
Heroes of Justice: A Blast from the Past!
“Warning! Warning! Unknown airborne radar contact three miles out and closing!” Reid, the AI pilot, blared out!
We'd been up for some time and were still playing with the powers we had inherited with our transformations into our characters. As Tom had proved yesterday we did have their skills as well as their abilities. They were harder to access, however. Like his skill throwing shurikens — the favorite toy of choice of Ninjas everywhere.
Annoyingly, it was something that if you thought about it you couldn't do it. If you put it out of your head and just did it, everything just fell into place. Easier said than done. I dare you not to think of something when someone tells you not too! I suppose that’s what the old saying about “practice, practice, practice” is about.
Everything stopped as the News 7 chopper did its Robot impression. What also grabbed our attention was Huey, Dewey and Louie the three caretaker robots. They stopped what they were doing and what could only be missiles cycled onto their utility arms.
I know I was holding my breath, but then as one the three robot amigos lowered their weapons and went back to what they were doing. I heard some of the others sigh in relief too. Slowly descending was a Bell V-22 Osprey Tilt rotor. Looking like a airplane with an engine on each wing tip, it was just coming into service back home. What made it different was that the engines could rotate upwards changing the plane into a helicopter, a real life transformer. This meant it had the speed and range of a plane, but could hover and land vertically like a chopper. No wonder here they were calling them dropships after the feared assault vessels from the pages of science fiction.
This one was in the white and blue of the New Riverside Warders. How did I know that? Well the huge letters spelling it out on the underside certainly helped. The cheap cellphone whose number Question had never rang so the question (no pun intended!) was, is this a setup?
Looking around to gage everyone else's reaction, Morgan was tapping her cellphone and pointing to her ear. Alright, it was clear she wanted us to use our phones to go to tactical communications. The problem with that was, I didn't have my phone with me and from Mark's expression neither did he. What can I say? We are new at this, okay.
Anza, using our bond/link said, “Don't worry love I'll pass along everything to you and Mark.”
Feeling very silly because I should've known better, I sent back to her a very heart-felt sense of relief.
Morgan gave a long suffering sigh. “Everyone stay cool, but if it ’s a double cross make for the Long Ranger. Are you listening to this Reid?”
“Affirmative, I am tied into the base's radar and no other contacts are within range. The sentries stood down after the correct code from the Warder's transport was received. Analysis at this time suggest this just a unannounced visit. Still your caution is commendable.” The AI radioed.
Rather dryly Morgan responded, “Thank you. We do need to work at this some more. I don't think anything is going to happen but if it does be ready.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I watched the big aircraft set down in a hurricane of dust. The rear ramp lowered and, lo and behold, it was the Warders. Well, at least most of them; Question we had already met; Enigma, a white shrouded woman wearing twin shoulder holstered automatic pistols; Black Hawk named because of his black wings in a black and red costume; and Conductress a red-head woman dressed in blue tights decorated with lightning bolts.
Finally gawking all about him was this somewhat overweight guy who was about 6'4”. He had that dark-hair hirsute look about him that promised a five o'clock shadow before lunch. Lumbering down the ramp because of an old injury he had gotten years before, he paused at the bottom. It was MIKE!
His standing there amongst the Warders was a study of a normal-looking dude amongst the larger-than-life heroes. Flab with blue jeans and red t-shirt sporting a large yellow lightning bolt versus spandex and tights, rippling with muscle.
It was definitely a Kodak moment as he recognized us and we almost involuntarily took a step towards our friend. His eyes boggled as we dared the windy vortex from the Osprey's rotors to reach him.
“It's Mike!” Will yelled audible even over the roar of the turboprops. We finally got far enough away so we could talk. While the gang were all talking excitedly, I was watching the amused looks from the Warders. The only faces I could see were Black Hawk's and Conductress, but my empathic link with Cape let me know the other two, although masked, shared their comrades’ amusement.
“You guys alright?” Mike asked, his concern visible. At our nods he continued, “Thank Gawd, I'm so sorry fellas. I had no idea anything like this was going to happen.”
“Us? We were worried about you! You big lunk! ULTIMATE had you locked up and we didn't know if you would ever be released,” Will exclaimed.
“All of us were worried they were torturing you or something worse.” Mark spoke up over Will's boisterousness. “Are you okay?”
The gang quieted down. “It wasn't pleasant, but I'm okay. I'm telling you those guys are a real piece of work. ” Mike looked around at all of us. “Even though I'm looking at you all, it's hard to believe you've changed into your characters. These guys told me I have you to thank for them getting me released. Thanks Guys.” He blushed as he saw Anza and me. “Er, Greg, Danny I really sorry. I never meant to get you two turned into girls.”
An ugly look crossed Tom's face, but before he could say anything a still grinning Will gave him a not so gentle elbow. Mike raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. This reunion meant too much to us to spoil with nasty reminders of real life.
Mike got a baffled look as Anza told him, “We'll talk later okay?” glancing at me and him.
We were interrupted by what sounded like a Detroit Diesel truck engine down-shifting, but was only Question clearing his throat. “Not to be rude but I put a lot on the line getting your friend released. I had to ask my friends to blindly trust my judgment concerning you folks. If you don't mind we really want some answers.”
As one we all turned to Mike with puppy dog eyes wanting to know just what was going on here. “I hardly know where to start. Okay, I guess you all know we were just starting to play a game that, as far as I can figure, is based on events that are happening right here in this world. It was a pen and paper role-playing game, but had a computer component to ease game play and help out with in-game graphics.”
Heroes of Justice: Mike's story
One minute he was at Comic Forge and then, wham bam no thank you ma'am, he was at some set for an ancient-Egyptian movie. There were columns and pools and surrounding palm trees. Mike looked around wondering if he'd finally cracked. No way any of this was real.
The breeze blowing though the enclosed area was kept cool by the pools that must have been fed from some sort of underground system or springs based on the gurgle he heard. Bowls of what he thought might be dates and some other fruits were set next to them. Nearby pillows made of some shiny material were scattered about, but not a single modern convenience was in sight.
Outside, it looked pretty lush and green to him, but wherever he was it didn’t look like the good old USA. He took out his cell phone, but it dead. His Swiss army knife had among its other gadgets a compass, but all it did was spin in a circle. Even his trusty, retro, wind-up watch had stopped. This was too weird.
Picking a way between the columns, Mike headed towards what seemed the way out. After about five minutes he didn't seem to be making any progress. Wait, he thought, didn't that group of pillows look familiar? Looking around, he slapped himself on his broad forehead.
Mike was certain that he'd been walking straight and not in some sort of circle. The only other explanation he could think of was that he was on some sort of Má¶bius strip where space-time was curved in on itself. Limping over to one of the bowls he arranged some of the fruit in a pattern on the marble floor. Picking out a spot with his eyes he started moving, paying attention not to wander from his path.
He'd only been walking just a few minutes when right there in front of him was the empty bowl with the fruit in a large cross. Huffing in frustration, he demanded, “Hey! Is anyone here? How do I get out of here?”
“Oh this is just great!” he complained.
Sitting down heavily on the cushions, he massaged his aching ankle a memento of younger more foolish days. Oh yeah, he was wiser now. If so why the hell was he trapped in a bad episode of Strange Stories?
Mike checked out each pool but as far he could see they were all the same. He didn't know if he was going crazy or if he had cursed one time to often. Finally he tried the food and, although different from was he was accustomed to, it wasn’t too bad. He attempted his experiment with leaving again but was no more successful this time than the last.
Frustrated and worried he eventually went to sleep.
“Why! Mortal did they abandon the plan?”
Mike jerked awake with this huge black shape yelling at him! He rolled off the cushions scrambling awkwardly to his feet.
“Oh shit!” he whispered as he saw what had woken him. It stood nearly seven feet tall and was dressed just like those in the murals on the walls. Even a blind man couldn't miss the falcon's head on its shoulders. Just a like a bird it now had one eye cocked at him, demanding answers!
“Why have you not been using the pools to observe and aid your chosen champions’ progress? For what purpose did you change the agreed upon plans?” this impossible creature questioned him.
Mike had a bad feeling about this. As with most gamers, he had a fairly good knowledge of mythology and if he wasn't hallucinating, this was a Egyptian god. “Champions? I don't understand. How would I use pools of water to see anything? Excuse me, but where am I? Who are you? What is this all about?”
“I am Horus. You and your companions agreed to fight for justice and thus they became your Champions.” it said waving a hand over the nearest pool. With a shimmer, a movie like image appeared within its waters.
Mike blinking saw his gamer friends' characters fighting some villains at a shopping mall. It looked as if Mystery, Greg's character was taking a beating repeatedly getting kicked in the face, ouch!
“Yeah those are my guys’ characters alright. Is this part of the game we were supposed to play? Why am I here and where are they?” Mike asked half afraid he knew the answers.
Horus’s great eyes blinked, bird-like, and it pointed into the pool where the small figures were fighting.
Mike looked and winced in pain. “You mean they are their characters? And that pool shows they’re getting their asses handed to them? For real?”
The giant nodded.
Mike swallowed hard, his palm s sweating. “This all some kind of mistake. I don't remember any kind of agreement. We're just ordinary guys play a game, not heroes! We don't know anything about being heroes. Please,” he said, looking at the mirror feeling his gorge rise when he saw Mystery covered in blood, “Undo all of this. Let us go home.”
Horus was impassive. “The agreement was made.”
Still trying to swallow he begged, “You don't understand! They could die!”
“The agreement was made. Their avatars were chosen and placed.”
This just couldn't be happening. All his friends could die down there. Okay let’s calm down here, Mike told himself.
“What can I do to help them?” he asked.
“It is too late. The plan has not been followed and thus has failed.”
“Don't give me that crap. Plans fail all the time. You regroup and start another. What can I do to help my friends?” Mike said as forcefully as he could while wondering if this bird-thing would squash him flat.
It tilted its head upwards as if hearing something from on high. “Yes, plans fail.”
Mike jerked back as the thing leaned over and its cruel falcon's beak came to inches of his face, “Chose an avatar mortal.”
He took a step back after almost soiling himself. “You mean chose a character to become?”
Horus nodded and crossed its mammoth arms signaling finality.
Oh great no pressure here! Just fluking great. No details help him to make a informed choice. Well there's always SuperJock, but he has that damn weakness to Kryptonium. Maybe the Green Ring, but his ring has to be recharged plus it could be taken away. Damn it! The Hammer God is a tough guy, but shit he has his problems too!
Horus crossed its arms. “Choose Mortal”
“Hey, give a guy a chance here will ya?” but somehow Mike didn't think it was listening. Rubbing his temples trying to think, he looked down at his shirt. The yellow lightning bolt on red was of course from the Big Red Cheese, but he'd worn it because he couldn't find one in black with a silver bolt.
The silver on black was the symbol from "The Hero Found" series a urban tale using Arthurian Legends and other classical myths. There were several advantages with Kevin Matchbox “The Hero Found” character. One was: no huge glaring weaknesses or problems. But he was also limited in his powers being a brick strong guy. Too bad he couldn't be a mixture of Merlin, a magic using wizard from the same series. Okay how about Iron Guy? He has a powerful set of armor, and a master inventor too.
“Acceptable” Horus announced as he uncrossed his arms.
“Hey wait a minute! I haven't decided yet,!” Mike protested.
Then suddenly he was airborne! That bastard had thrown him into one the pools. His thought, “Hey why haven't I hit the water yet?” came out as a single scream while the fall seemed to last forever! Then, with a breath-stealing slam, he splashed into the cold waters!
“Next thing I knew, some joggers were pulling me out of the river. One of them drove me to a hospital because I seemed so out of it. I think it was more from dealing with Horus than swallowing any of that river. Then the Gestapo showed up wanting to know how I fell from midair into the river.
“Telling them the truth didn't seem like a good idea so I told them who I was and where I lived. The problem with that was I don't exist here. I explained that the last memory I had was going to buy some comic books, not mentioning the game or my stop-over in Egyptian-Never-Never-Land.”
Looking around at us, he continued, “They didn't like that answer and started playing harder. They brought in this weird woman to see me. I think maybe she was a telepath, but she didn't find whatever they were looking for. Next came the little tricks like messing with the lighting and food.
“I'll admit was getting worried about how far this was going, but then he came in,” Mike pointed at Question. “I him what I told the Gestapo, but he seemed to know you guys. It was great when he came and got me released this morning.”
Mike looked at the Warders. “Thanks for getting me out there. I'm afraid it’s the good news, and bad news thing. The good news are I think we can go home, but the bad is we are going have stop this Syndicate first.”
Question's expression was hidden beneath his mask. “Why tell us all of this when you kept this such a secret earlier? ” his glance including his team mates.
Mike got a pained look. “Well you already knew something about us already and trusted us enough to get me released. There is no way, as it stands, that we have a hope in hell of taking this Syndicate down. We're going to need help and at least you've proved the Warders have an open mind. ”
I cut in. “ULTIMATE has already proven it is more interested in politics then in resolving this. We were hoping for more information, but what Mike has told us has taken some of the doubts out the equation. This Syndicate is reason we're here and is going to have to be dealt with before we can go home.”
Morgan added, “What's more, there may be a lot more to this than anyone suspects, if this Horus is indeed a god. They have the reputation of not getting involved unless the stakes are world altering or worse.”
My empathic sense let me know Question was real unhappy to hear any of this, but he couldn't disagree. His other teammates looked if they’d just stepped in something very unpleasant.
For that matter, my friends didn't seem any too happy about it either. Yes, even Tom. He might be acting like an ass but I still consider the dummy a friend. The worse feelings were coming from Mike; he truly felt he was responsible for us being in this fix.
Question gestured to his compatriots. “Excuse us but we need to have a short conference.”
We watched them step away, and everyone relaxed... well mostly.
Mike turned to me. “Greg, when I realized that it was you I saw covered in blood I almost threw up. Please, I'm sorry about... ”
Both Anza and I smiled. “Mike, like we said, we'll talk about that later. We're fine. What you never said was which avatar you chose.”
Mike beamed. “Well you don't see any red and gold armor do you?”
That lead to us ribbing him about his possible choices which he took good naturally. It felt good to just joke and laugh together like old times. I think we all knew it couldn't last, but that made it all the more precious.
Morgan, smiling ruefully asked, “I suppose its to much to hope for that you've been released with no strings attached?”
Mike shook his head. “I wish! No, I'm in the Warder's custody for now. That means that I'll have stay at their base under a kind of house arrest. That telepath kinda saw a hint of something. She knows more is there, but I believe I hid it from her. Not sure how I did it, but I did it, I think. ”
Shaking his head, he added, “If you'd told me I would be worried about telepaths and the mutant police four days ago I would've think you were crazy or talking about a game. I used to wish that somehow I could become like the heroes I read about. Now that I have it's not as much fun as I thought it would be.”
Mark dragged his ever present cooler outside, and tossed a cold one to Mike. “Be careful what you wish for man. You might get it! ”
That was a sentiment we all earnestly saluted.
A few minutes later the Warders returned and, from what overheard, not all of them were happy with Question's proposal. They were perhaps, how to say it?... Enthusiastic in pointing out what they saw were flaws?
Black Hawk, with his large black wings still ruffled, spoke. “If I thought for a moment there was some other way of doing this I would turn you in to ULTIMATE myself. We’ve already lost one dear friend and have another companion recovering after being half-killed. This is our offer. Enigma? ”
Enigma surprised me when she spoke with a British accent. “Question has an old friend he is planning to ask help train you. Before we agree to this we must, for our own peace of mind witness that you have some ability to defend yourselves. If you can prove that to us, then you'll have your chance. Maybe gods have no qualms over dropping innocents into the deep, but the rest of us want to be able to sleep nights.
Question went off to make his call while the Warders put the rest of us through our paces, again. We spent the rest of the day being tested by the Warders and, trust me, it sucked. For the most part we got humiliated, but there was a few memorable bits of payback.
Enigma had this little 'find me' test. She could quiet literally disappear and even Wolfen couldn't track her scent. Anza had gotten a pissed over the Brit's arrogance. When she'd reappeared Enigma had a pair of bunny ears attached to her cowl. After the laughter had died down and she'd found them she grudgingly gave Anza a pass.
Conductress was even worse because she kept shocking everyone with these cattle prod like jolts. The idea were we was to dodge these, but the bloody things would arc right to you! Morgan, as Lady Diamond walked right up to her as the lightning writhed about her. Turning to stand beside Conductress, she said, “Electricity doesn't do much to me, but I can do this.”
Producing a visible red beam she guided it to a rock and melted it in a flash of light. “So, tell me dear, are you laser proof?”
Of course I got to play with Black Hawk and he flew rings around me. His idea of a test was a game of tag some what like flag football. We had strips of cloth attached to our shoes and took turns trying to snag the other's 'flag.'
What gave me fits was he as so darn fast and accurate he would snatch off my flag before I even knew it. After the third time Cape had enough, it became part of the flag. The next time Black Hawk grabbed the flag he found himself pulling a streamer made of Cape, that acted like a bungee cord and bounced me right at him. I'll admit it was lucky we didn't collide, but not my grabbing his flag on the way by.
I had the giggles for hours at the dumbfounded look on his face wondering what the heck happened! Those however were the exceptions and all of us had a tough time. However, at the end of the day, when all was said and done, they couldn't say we were helpless. They didn't seem to like it, but gave their assent.
No one held a grudge against them, I think. I understood why they needed to know if we had any idea what we were letting ourselves in for. They got an invitation to stay for the grill-out we had planned but they had to leave. Unfortunately that meant Mike had to go with them, so we didn't get that talk we wanted. Speaking for myself it sucked, having just found him, for him to leave so soon. Because of his unchanged appearance, he was a visible talisman of our old lives.
Just to confused things, he said he would speak to us soon. This after Question had seemed unsure of when they could return. Argh, cryptic Game-masters!
That night our mood was a little more upbeat. We'd found Mike and confirmed that yes we did get Shanghaied. Anza and I were both happy to know we hadn't dispossessed anyone from their bodies which meant the ones we had were all ours.
The guys were having a good time and so were us girls. I know I'm including Morgan with the girls even though after the Warder's left he went back to guy mode. His explanation was as far as they knew he was a woman. It was a good way to keep a hole card hidden. Me, I think he just enjoyed being a girl sometimes. As for Anza, she gloried in it while I was still adjusting. No matter how you look at it, this was a massive and unexpected change. Yes it was wonderful but as with a lot things, it took some getting use to.
Mark had managed to get a better handle on his uber-nose and wasn't sniffing up Anza's skirt anymore even if he did indicate he was still interested. Tom, well, was Tom. He obviously still disapproved of our relationship, but had stopped bad mouthing us about it. Good natured Will seemed to be enjoying himself and had become our resident peacemaker.
Which brings me to the other burning question Anza and I had. Could we stay like this even after whatever happened with this Syndicate mess? Was this an all or nothing deal about going home? For that matter, we weren't even sure who, if anyone wanted to stay besides us. Actually, asking if anyone wanted to stay implied we liked what had happened to us. While true, it could open up Tom's nasty box of comments again. With that in mind both of us decided to wait for a better time.
Remembering my mystery guest from the night before, I picked out few pieces of leftovers and made a plate, placing it in the conference room. I covered the plate with foil to protect it but also to see if anyone got into it. All of this I did on the sly, not wanting to answer unwanted questions. With that done, it was off to bed, if not sleep. There were a lot of things about being a girl I still didn’t know and Anza was determined I learn them all!
As the wall rose, the figure cautiously moved to the tantalizing plate with all those wonderful scents. Hesitating, thinking it could be a trap, it slowly investigated the plate of food. It took the plate and removing the foil, scooping up the food and putting it in a worn chipped bowl. It then took the paper plate and foil and dumped them in the trash in the kitchen. With luck they'll think one of the others took it.
Trembling a little it'd been a long time since it'd been so close to discovery. The ones with long hair reminded it of Nurse but it dared not take the chance. Dealing with others was dangerous. It was best to hide until they left. Scampering back to the other side of the wall, the secret door close whisper quiet behind it.
The next morning I got a surprise when I woke up!
“Good morning, I wondered how long you two were going sleep.”
Grabbing at the edge of the sleeping bag to cover myself and Anza I found we'd been covered with a sheet that hadn‘t been there the night before. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I found, Mike.
“What are you doing here?” I asked still groggy from sleep.
“You said you two wanted to talk, it sounded important, so here I am,” he said in a matter of fact way.
Anza muttered, “Who are you talking to?”
Not taking my eyes from him, I answered, “There is a man in our room and we're still dressed for play, baby.”
Now that woke her up better than a cup of coffee could! If you are wondering what ‘dressed for play’ meant... I am not going to tell you. Go fish!
Her eyes flew open and she was ready to give a migraine to their intruder, they would never forget. “Mike?” she asked confused, “What the hell are you doing in our bedroom?”
Mike smiled. “I'm guessing this is part of what you wanted to tell me? It's okay, you did surprise me, but when I saw your connection, I figured it out. If I can hazard a guess, you two don't want to change back? ”
Anza was not her best first thing in the morning. “What the hell are you talking about? And what’s it to you if we don't? And, while we're at, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN OUR ROOM?” she demanded screaming.
“Easy love, we wanted to talk to him. And since he's at least talked to what brought us here he might know more than he's told everyone else.” I tried to calm her.
He spread his large hands. “I'm sorry about this but right now I don't want anyone else to know I'm here. Ask me what you need to know and I'll tell you if I can.”
My ears was still ringing from my lover's angry retort when I asked, “Don't you think it's a little late for that? Maybe no one heard that in New Riverside, but I wouldn't place any bets.”
“Actually no one did. I've got a barrier up around us. If anyone looks in here all they will see is two young women asleep,” Mike said pleased with himself.
Anza still out of sorts shot back, “I thought you said you didn't get any superpowers?”
Mike smiled. “I said I didn't receive any red and gold powered armor. You could say I found the ‘Hero within’, so to speak. ”
Anza looked to me. “You're the comic fan. What is he talking about? ”
Meeting his eyes I explained, “The Hero Found” was a very artsy series about a modern day Champion using Arthurian legends. The Hero was always wearing this t-shirt with this lightning bolt on it,” gesturing at what he was wearing.
Mike, smiling, gave me nod-like bow.
“Anyways he was mostly a brick but had a baseball bat instead of a sword, in keeping with the urban fantasy theme. He also had an incarnation of Merlin as an advisor, as well as a group of oddballs that was kinda like the Knights of the Round Table,” I explained.
“Since, I as far as I know the Hero couldn't do magic… You're Merlin?” I asked as Anza was TKing her clothes to her. Duh! I had forgotten about Cape. Mentally, I asked, “Some clothes please.”
“Well there's a story here. I wanted something so I could help you guys but I also wanted to be loaded for bear if it came to that. The Hero was one tough strong guy but lacked any real support ability. Merlin had that ability, but had a glass jaw. That's why I was considering Iron Guy because he could do both.”
Mike sighed. “Horus took it out of my hands. I seem to be a mixture of the Hero and Merlin. Before you get jealous, what powers I do have don't seem to work all the time. Only when I need them like when that telepath tried to read my mind, or when they didn't work when I fell into the river. ”
A dressed calmer Anza said, “Okay, I'll bite. Can Misty and I stay even after this is all over assuming we don't die?”
“Honesty I don't know. Horus kept bringing up some contract and I don't have the slightest idea what he was talking about.” Mike confessed.
Anza and I traded a look, while I told him, “That part we figured out. We think it was the software use agreement. It had what I thought was this humorous bit tacked on about agreeing to be Heroes of Justice and aiding others in the fight for truth, justice, and etc. I don't recall anything about a time limit or a release clause. Morgan may remember more because of his eidetic memory.”
Mike, running his hands though his thinning hair said, “I got the feeling that Horus felt he had too much invested in this plan and avatar thing with you guys. It is possible, if we can get ourselves out of this mess we can renegotiate because we didn't understand the terms. Before anything else though, beating this syndicate is the first thing we need to do.
So you're not sore at me for all of this? You know getting you turned into girls and everything?”
I got a flash of what Anza intended and joined her when she leaned over and we gave him a peck on each cheek.
While he was busy blushing I said, “Defeating them isn't going to be easy. It took all of us to put Big Red down. Even if you figure in that we only half-knew what we were doing, it still means they are pretty tough and not at all afraid to use lethal force.”
“Question has been playing this trainer thing very close to his chest. It's like watching an old cold war movie with his “need-to-know” security. Even the rest of the team who didn't meet you, don't know the details. I don't know if he doesn't trust them or it is just more security measures.” Mike said.
“Some training is better than none,” I pointed out. “What we can't overlook are our character's skills and combat experiences are harder for us to access than our powers. It could be this mysterious trainer of Question will help us unlock them. If so, that could make all the difference in the world.”
He cocked his head, as if hearing something. “Okay guys I need to split.”
Looking down her nose, Anza corrected him, “Don't you mean girls?”
Her question he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Nah, girls, guys, you’re still my friends. Ciao!” He stepped into a greenish disk that suddenly appeared and was gone.
Giggling, I remarked, “That's good news I think!”
Still disgruntled, Anza snorted, “The next time he barges into our room, I'm going give him a pain he's never going to forget!”
A beating at the door startled us, as a half dressed Will slammed open our door! “There's another plane coming in! Didn't you hear the warning?”
Mutely we shook our heads, but I was not even sure he saw as he rushed off. Our door swung open still locked but the entire door jam was splintered where he forced it. Anza just lowered her lovely head in hopeless resignation of getting any privacy. Well at least we were already dressed. Well, almost anyways. I had to explain to Cape that stilettos and a mini skirt were not proper attire for early morning outings in quarries.
With Mike and his magic barrier thing gone, our phones came alive with Reid's warning. “Small aircraft approaching. Call sign Mike Victor. Security codes received and robot-sentries have stood down.”
We met the others, who were already outside. Since they had all run out half-dressed, we gave them a little extra time to finish. All eyes were turned to the skies where a small saucer shape circled the quarry. I heard the distinctive sounds of turboprops so that ruled out any little green men.
Looking upwards Morgan asked me, “Misty don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.”
“Okay... I won’t tell you that it looks like a World War II era Vought XF-5 known as the Flying FlapJack. On our world, they never even made a test flight, but apparently here things happened differently. Back home they were supposed to use piston engines but I hear turboprops. Plus I think I see some kind of weapon blister on the underside of this one. That would more than likely be twenty- or maybe even thirty-millimeter cannons. It’ll be very bad news for anything flying that's not at least post 1950's military. It is also STOL. That’s Short Take Off and Landing,” I added for Anza’s sake.
Feeling uncomfortable, I looked around and saw everyone staring at me. “What? I'm an amateur military historian alright?”
You know it is bad when you out geek the geeks, geez!
Just as I expected, the pilot after making a few passes to eyeball our running track, raceway cum, runway brought the bright silver aluminum finished warbird floating in to land lightly with a very short roll. Being a history nut, I was fascinated with this impossible aircraft, but that was nothing compared to the pilot.
He slid off the rear of the aircraft, still wearing a Korean War era flight helmet. Like most helmets of the time, it was colorfully painted. His had a large red “V” on the front. His flight suit looked to be from the same time period.
Opening a storage panel, he pulled out a duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. Looking about he saw our group and started towards us.
As he got closer, I could see he was about the same height and build as Mark, which would make him 6'4”. The other thing was he was glowing! He was wearing a major's insignia and had a red “V” patch on his shoulder just like the one on his flight helmet.
Our mystery major dropped his duffel and took off his helmet. Geez! Sandy-haired and gray-eyed, he could pass for a recruiting poster for either side of the Atlantic during WWII.
While we were checking him out, he was inspecting us with a critical eye. He held out his hand to Will. “I'm known as Major Victory. We have mutual acquaintance who has asked me to help keep you alive. The Question called in a marker and so here we are.”
Will was surprised, because we all kinda looked to Morgan as our leader. The thing was Morgan was in her secret ID girl mode. Evidently, an old fashion kind of guy, he decided the largest male was the leader.
Anza rolled her eyes at what I am sure she thought as his ancient dinosaur like behavior.
Morgan did not think much of it either. “I'm Lady Diamond. What inquiring minds want to know is this glow of yours dangerous in any way? Most of us are pretty tough but not invulnerable.”
Major Victory gave us an actual bow. “Ladies, what you are calling my 'glow' isn't dangerous. It is the opposite actually. It is the visible manifestation of my bio-energy field and rather than harm, it heals and energizes.”
Putting his helmet down upon the table, he cleared his throat, “This is as good a time as any to tell you about myself.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I haven't decided whether or not to accept this position yet. Call this a mutual interview, if you will. My powers as some call them are those of extreme strength and durability. I am much older than I look and have outlived all my contemporaries.”
“I was born in 1894 and fought in the Great War. Afterwards I became what some would call an adventurer and I got involved with stopping the notorious Professor Sinistral's various schemes in the mid-1920's. To make a long story short as revenge he captured me and used me a guinea pig in one of his amoral experiments. Rather than stealing my life force to re-energize his own as he intended, he somehow made me a converter. By this, I mean I take ambient energy in the form of heat, light, and other forms of radiation and turn it into a kind of biological or life energy. ”
An old pain flickered across his face. “For three years I was imprisoned and used by him to lengthen his own life until in his greed he sought to leech even more bio-energy from me. You see whenever I'm exposed to too much energy and am injured some of my bio-energy goes to heal myself. That increases my overall capacity. Wanting more and more the old madman caused me grievous harm. It drove him insane that each time, I became what he desired. After each episode, I was stronger and healthier despite what his fiendish machines could steal from me.
“To this day, I don't know what tortures he inflicted on me that last day. Time was running out for him. My companions had been searching for me for all those long years and were closing in on him. I remember hearing the sounds of battle as they uncovered his hidden lair. The rest was lost in pain so great that I've lost the memory of what occurred next.”
“When I came to, I was lying in the wreckage of his lab with my friends fresh from battle around me. Professor's Sinistral was nowhere to be found and in all these years since, he has never reappeared. I went from adventurer to masked crime fighter. When World War II started, I fought for the Allies as Major Victory, the commander of an elite team of commandos in the European theater and later in the Pacific during the invasion of Japan. After the Korean conflict, I tendered my resignation in protest of Senator's McCarthy's Witch-hunts. ”
Meeting each of our eyes one by one, he said in a low voice. “I've seen dear friends die in some of the most horrible ways imaginable, but the direst of them all is time. To see their strength and vitality stolen from them while I remain hale is a worse torment than any the dear professor inflicted upon my flesh. More terrible is the theft of their wits and to see their envy and hate of me, who still has everything they have lost.”
“I retired from saving the world and the people in it. I live alone and tinker with my hobbies from my youth. The only reason I'm here is because of a promise to a dear friend. Now it is time you tell me your story,” He said resting on the edge of the picnic table.
We all looked at each other, but hyperactive Tom, tired of waiting began first. The Major asked each of us our own version for what happened and asked a few careful questions of us. It was obvious to me that he had a lot of experience as a de-briefer as well as an interrogator. The best ones are always the ones that could get what they want from you with a smile and hand shake.
It did take a while for everyone to have their turn and I noticed he seemed very interested in our second hand account of Mike's journey and his meeting with Horus.
He paused after we had finished. “A most unusual adventure you have shared and a challenge to cause even the bravest to falter. Do not take this Syndicate lightly. What little dealings I've had with those who style themselves gods have taught me they see reality very differently than we do. For them to gift their champions as you have been, would suggest a great and dire danger.”
“The gifts you've received are challenges in and of themselves. Not only do you have to defeat this enemy, but before you do you have to master yourselves as well. You've each been transformed into different people from whom you are all unaccustomed to interacting with. Some of you have changed radically and that is going to be a challenge for all of you.” He paused and looked at each of us in turn. I felt his gray eyes boring into me.
Just then as if planned Tom and Will's stomachs gave out a loud 'grumble.' Everyone laugh as the two of them looked suitably embarrassed.
Major Victory laughing along with the rest of us said with a big smile, “But it is still early and obviously you haven't eaten yet. Let me suggest we break to eat?”
With this bunch of chowhounds, everyone readily agreed. I suspected he had other motives; he never said if he was going to help us or not. However, I put those thoughts aside for the moment. It did not take long for us to fix up breakfast and soon we were all munching down. Major Victory finished before us and making excuses that he needed to see to servicing his aircraft left us alone.
Everyone started talking at once, even Tom who still had a mouthful of third helpings.
"This burnout is suppose help us? Give me a break!" Tom said almost understandably. "I've seen dear friends die," He mocked.
Will shook his in disagreement, "Are you kidding? This guy is like Captain Patriot, Indiana Smith, and Doc Ferocious all wind up together. He's got to know tons of stuff that's ass-kicking."
Anza looked as if she was eating lemons as she agreed with Tom. "I hate to agree with you, but he is so old fashioned he's an antique. Just look at the way he ignored us girls and assumed this big dope spoke for us."
Morgan shook her head and sighed, "I know how you feel Anza, but he's the only game in town. At least part of the reason Question dragged him out of retirement is because he's off the radar. Unless there is a really serious problem I think we're struck with him."
Keeping quite for once, I caught Mark's attention who had also been keeping silent. He just shrugged and forked over the last of the flapjacks onto his plate.
Even though I wanted to say something, I held my tongue because I had noticed that at no time had Major Victory said he was going to help us. When the rest of the gang started drifting off, I decided to hunt down him and put him to the question.
He was just where he said he was going to be, at his aircraft. When he saw me approaching, he met me halfway and sat down on the tailgate of a pick-up truck used as part of the over-sized weightlifting gear.
I asked him, “So have you talked yourself out of helping us or is that taking a little more time than expected?”
Meeting my eyes, his gray ones were as hard as stones. “Why would you say that? I could be just weighting the pros and cons and have yet to make a decision. ”
I shrugged. “You told us yourself, if not in so many words.”
Raising a brow, he gestured at me to sit and continue.
“Nearly all your life you've been put in harm's way,” I explained. “Two world-wars and you hinted at other conflicts you've been a part of. Though all of them, you've survived, but you've seen those you've known and cared about come to harm and worse. If that wasn't enough, now the ones that have survived are falling to the one foe we all yield to in the end. All but you, perhaps.”
I wondered at what point he was going to get mad and stalk away. “If you had decided not to help us, I think you would already be gone. I think you want to aid us, but you've been hurt too many times by the deaths of those you care about. Now you are wondering if we're going to hurt you too.”
“I can't claim we’re not going to. As you pointed out we have all changed and some of us are taking those changes better than others. What I do know is, with or without your help, we'll try. You know better than us if you could give us a better chance to succeed or not. Besides, it will give you a better chance to meet those gods you were so careful not to show too much interest in,” I tried to smile.
The veteran smiled back and I felt the warmth of his 'glow.' All I can say it's a damn good thing I was head over heels in love with Anza. This guy was dangerous and this was from me, who had no interest at all in males!
“You see a lot Miss and out of politeness, I won't say you're wrong. I must admit I would rather not be involved in this. While I have out-lived many of my enemies, there are still a few who would love to have a shot at me. At my island home, all have been content to leave me to my peace, but now if I reentered the world I fear that peace will end. I knew Question would never ask me for something like this if he had any choice.”
“This entire situation is atypical. Other criminal, so-called ‘masterminds’ have come and gone, but this one has been very secretive about his identity — if it is even a he. His enforcers are very powerful and well trained. Some have a past history while others seemingly appear out nowhere. To add to the chaos there are a growing number of mercenaries who keep showing up like the one whose, hmmm... wardrobe you altered. ”
I do not know how he’d found out that it had been me but I am sure my blushing gave me away.
After a pause and clearing his throat, he went on. “The Warders were a fairly large team with six full time members with two more on reserve status. That is enough in most cities to handle the majority of problems. Now one has been killed while another is hospitalized. Most criminals know killing a cop or hero is just a bad thing, but these don't care.”
“The original intent for ULTIMATE was for them to provide resources for problems local law enforcement resources were unable to solve or handle. Here the bureaucrats are unwilling to admit they have lost control and instead are holding back assistance and making the situation worse. Now here you are, proof that there is more to this whole thing than any of us suspect.”
“In the past I've fought desperate odds to save the world from one mad man or another, but all this is telling me something really bad is getting ready to happen.”
The old hero sighed. “I may have buried my head in the sand for the past couple of years, but now that I know this, I cannot sit back and do nothing. Yes, I will help you, Gawd help us all,” he prayed.
I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer of thanks as well and replied, “I won't say thank you. If it is going to be as bad it sounds, just surviving may be thanks enough. I do have a question for you about your past if you don't mind me asking? ”
He smiled and replied, “You may ask.”
Taking a deep breath I asked, “In my world, World War Two ended when the United States dropped two atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. That didn't happen here?”
A slow shake of his head the veteran answered, "Yes and No. If Little Boy and Fat Man ended the War for your world, there are indeed big differences between our homes. If you will excuse me, I will not answer in detail but I will suggest a book for you to read, fair enough? “The Day the Seas Burned: The Story of Operation Downfall”
I nodded. “More than fair. Your plane was the first clue the past here was different. In my world it never made it beyond the prototype stage, here obviously it went into production. Can you tell me about it? ”
This time he ginned. “Hasn't anyone ever warned you of asking a Hobbyist about his passion? Given the chance I'll talk pass all safe reason. Fifi is a F8U-1 Dragonfly a development of the F5U Flapjack with turboprops and limited tilt-rotor ability. They were outstanding fighters, but really shined in close air support with their low stall speed and maneuverability. This one I restored myself. It’s my favorite aircraft of my collection.”
Being a gaming geek, I understood all too well about talking someone's ear off about a passion. “I will see about getting that book. Thank you. ”
He got up first and extended a hand to help me. Not used to being treated like a lady, I hesitated at first, but biting the bullet, did take his hand. If I'd thought seeing that 'glow' of his was an experience, physical contact set my libido at ‘ludicrous speed’, well on it's way to plaid — to quote a space movie spoof!
Smiling Major Victory pointed out, “You do better than you think, letting the world believe what it will, but there are still a few rough edges. When a man offers you assistance simply accept it. Although in this modern world many wouldn't think twice about it thinking you were just independent minded.”
Hoping not to reveal just what he was doing to me, I tried to keep my mind off of it. Cape, however was having none of it. I swear the damn thing was purring, the traitor! Of course, I should have known he would have noticed Anza and I being changelings. “How did you know?”
Helping me up he replied, “Let me just say that you and your companion aren't the first I've met who have changed their forms, voluntarily or not. Shape shifters, body jumpers, and even magical spells and curses are not new here in my world. Perhaps not common, but they do happen.”
Hoping this was not a deal breaker, I asked nervously “This doesn't bother you.”
Major Victory replied shaking his head no, “Some of the finest men and women I've ever known had... ‘peculiarities’, if you would, that weren't acceptable by society at large. You and your companion seem happy and are adjusting to your new lives. Who am I to condemn someone else's happiness when it harms no one?”
Walking back to my friends, I was very aware of his hand on my arm. If they only knew what it was doing to me! I could not miss how everyone was eying him walking with me, Crap! Closing my eyes, I could feel Anza's ... jealousy? Damn! I really do not need this. 'Please' I thought, 'Anza you have my love and you know what lies within my heart. Believe that and not what you think your eyes see.'
That is when I heard a beeping. Wondering if Anza had gotten mad enough at me to blow me up, I opened my eyes and looked around, only to find it was Major Victory's wristwatch.
“Excuse me Miss Mystery, I have a call I have to take,” he explained and walked off talking into his watch.
Watch, I wonder if it has a TV too. Calling Richard Tracey, Calling Richard Tracey! Please, a little humor here. I think we were thinking, hey, fight a few bad guys, put ‘em in jail and then it is time for a cold one, Right?
Nooo..., that would be too easy. Now we are mixed up with interfering gods and mysterious masterminds who do not think twice about a little murder on the side. And whom do we have on our side? A super-team that has already lost two members, and a burned out hero from WWII. Oh and let us not forget the government that was trying to spin this thing to the public for the upcoming election. This was just getting better and better!
Reaching our designated meeting area, the picnic table by the grill, I saw Tom smirking at Anza. I had a funny feeling that if I knew why, I would have to hurt him, Hard and Repeatedly. She looked, maybe not angry but “put out” would be high on the list. I decided humor would be my best bet to ease her worries, but before I could start, I got interrupted.
Tom drawled out nastily, “Hey Mistiii, You get tired of playing with the fagot and wanted to see what a real man was like?”
I stopped with a look of disbelief on my face not believing what I had just heard. Glancing at Anza I now had a good idea what he had been smirking at, the poisonous little weasel.
Cape had been keeping a low profile after bathing in Major Victory's 'glow', but in a flash, a sexy but practical leather outfit replaced my casual clothing. From fingerless sap gloves to the steel toe reinforced boots, Cape made its own suggestion on how to deal with him.
“Tom I should've known you had been saving this up. I wanted to ask Major Victory some questions concerning us. And in case you've forgotten, I'm a history geek. He mentioned an invasion of Japan. I wanted to know more about that and his plane,” I said taking nice slow deep breaths.
“Yeah I can see you finding out all about his 'plane', walking back arm in arm,” he snickered with a nasty glint in his eyes.
All right. That was it. I was going to kick his ass! He was damn fast, but I had already oxygenated myself the same way swimmers do before diving. Just one, all-out blow... All I had to do was keep from telegraphing my intent to him. One, two...
“If you want to know what the young lady and I were discussing, perhaps you should ask me?” a deep voice said tonelessly.
A little voice rang, Oh Shit. How did Major Victory get all the way over here so fast? I recognized his manner not as something calming but as a preamble to something bad.
“I was taught manners and to respect ladies,” he continued. “Part of that is to help one to her feet and, yes, walk with her. If you're going to imply Miss Mystery isn't a woman or a lady... I already know all of you have experienced major changes in appearance. I'm certain that any doctor, upon an examination would agree with me. However if that doesn't answer your concerns, I was also taught it was a gentlemanly duty to defend a lady's honor.”
The large veteran stood loose and easy. Despite my wanting to split Tom's fat lip, I felt a cold shiver go through me for my friend. This guy has had a century of learning mayhem. Like an old character from the heyday of comics, who was also a WWII veteran. Captain Patriot kicked butt and took names of a slew of more powerful characters with just pure skill and cunning.
Tom seemed to have forgotten that bit of comic book trivia. “Defend a pair of homos who look like lezzie bitches? The slut was flirting with you and then she came over here and went all dominatrix when told the truth! ”
That made Anza so angry, she forgot whatever jealousy she was feeling about Major V. and me I felt her reaction though our link. Cape started peppering my outfit with spikes and, mad though I was, damn it, I still thought of the shithead as a friend. Anza having TK and being a trained nurse could muck up his day in so many ways I could not even begin to count the ways! What be your pleasure, heart attack or maybe a stroke? Just squeeze an artery here, or pinch this muscle there and it's hello ICU.
Major Victory, aware of her anger, surprised Anza by taking her hand. “Miss I can assure I had no intentions towards your companion. I respect your relationship and if I gave you the wrong impression please forgive me. I am a student of an older school of behavior.” His manners... He did the Gary Crant better than even Gary did, and that is saying something sister!
Okay. Let us see how you like it, I thought as I felt Anza's quiver though our bond. If they could bottle that 'glow' of his, women across the world would be smiling.
Turning to Tom, Major Victory addressed him formally, “I accept your challenge. Name your terms.”
Hesitating Tom answered, “I don't know.”
“Might I suggest a boxing or wrestling like ring? Whoever is thrown from it first loses?” The old hero offered.
Tom rubbed his chin in thought. “That'll sounds like that would work, but where would we get a ring from?”
With a flourish, he waved at us. “If these ladies would ask one of the caretaker machines I sure they can come up with something suitable. However, I warn you if I am the victor, I will require an apology from you on their behalf. ”
“And if I win?” Tom asked.
“Oh, in that case feel free to insult them as much as you like. Personally, I think that would be an outstandingly bad idea because no matter what they started life off as, right now they are women and as such have long memories of wrongs done them. Also, remember this: you’ll have to count on both of them to help keep you alive in the coming months. But it is your choice after all.”
He clapped his hands briskly together and, in a complete change of mood, added cheerfully, “Say we begin in an hour? That should give our meals time to settle.”
Poor Tom nodded as he began to see that just maybe his mouth had gotten him into some deep doo-doo. “Yeah an hour.”
Anza and I walked off towards one of the robots who were still tending the Major's aircraft.
“Isn't that better than any hot tub you ever read about?” I asked her teasingly.
“Hot tub? Huh ..,” She asked still dazed.
“You know all the TG fiction stories and how they write of how good a hot tub can hit your G-spot? How do you feel now that HE gave you that whammy? Still jealous and angry at me?” I poked at her.
“Was that his bio-energy whatsit? Damn it girl, I don't even like the old fossil, but I thought about jumping him!” She said trying to keep her voice down.
I giggled, “I couldn't have removed his arm while we walked over if I tried!”
Anza giggled back. “You think he knows what's he doing?”
I nodded. “Poor Tom! He just doesn't know what he's getting himself into. ”
“Poor Tom, my ass!” Anza spat. “I used to think he was an okay kind of guy. A bit too much of a smart-ass maybe, but okay. Now I hope he gets pounded!”
“Tsk, tsk, Anza it's going to be much worse than that!” I told her. “Our old fossil, as you called him, has a bio-energy field remember? What do you bet that it has a similar effect on males, too? It might be more intense for us girls but I’d wager...”
She blinked her big dark eyes. “Oh My. You mean he'll... ”
I nodded again. “Yep, that’s exactly what I mean. So what’ll you wager? ”
Anza stopped doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down her face. “You mean Mr. Homophobe is going to ...”
Grinning I said, “Yep that’s exactly what I think is going to happen. So are you going to bet or not?”
Anza smiled. “The traditional one dollar works for me. He isn't worth anything more.”
I scolded her. “Now be kind. I was hoping he’d get over this, but now I don't know. Please let’s not escalate this okay? ”
Kissing me on the cheek she said, “You're a better friend than he deserves. All right. But if he tries undermining our relationship again, he gets everything that’s coming to him.”
After we told Robo-Don King to set up a ring for the bout, Anza whispered some suggestions on how to spend the next hour. It is true the best part about having a lover’s quarrel is the making up. No, I am not going to tell you, if you cannot figure it out for yourselves!
An hour later, okay, maybe it was over an hour, how time flies when you are having fun, sure enough Huey, Dewy, and Louie, the robotic helpers, had set up a boxing ring. Mark and Will had even found a bell from somewhere. As we walked up, they were flipping a coin to decide who would manage it.
They did not have any silk robes on, but still our fighters made their appearance. Tom had on his usual t-shirt and shorts.
Major Victory had found a pair of shorts, but had elected to do without his shirt. Not to belabor the fact, but he was built like a Greek god. Before, I did not think his supercharging my and Anza's libidos was deliberate, but this showing off his torso was making me wonder.
Morgan, as one of our fellow spectators, came dragging a chair with her.
Anza, being a friendly sort, caught it and two more in her telekinesis and brought them to us. Settling ourselves down as the boys sorted themselves, I asked Morgan, “Does this seem more stupid as girl than a boy?” waving my hand at the men folk deciding how long a 'round' was going to be.
Morgan who had the foresight to bring something cold to drink with her, swallowed. “That’s an interesting question. In this case, I would have to say, no. I can't imagine how this could seem anymore ridiculous.”
She sighed. “I really thought Tom had worked his way past the worst of it and then this... Tell me did he really call you two bitches and sluts? ”
Anza nodded, her dark complexion even darker with anger. “Yes he did. After we finished eating, Misty went to talk to the Major. When the two of them came walking back they were arm in arm and it was clear she was enjoying herself. ” Waving her hand at my breasts, she said to me, “Even a bra and t-shirt can't hide your ... hmmm indicators dear.”
Blushing, I blurted out, “I didn't know!”
Morgan raised one eyebrow, but did not say anything.
Anza continued, “Well Tom brought it to my attention and I must admit I felt a little jealous. Yes, I know we're linked and all I needed to do was just listen mentally. But damn it, you should have seen how it looked,” she said, still a little angry.
I shrugged helplessly. “Well, Major V. has this cell phone widget in his wristwatch that rang and he had to answer. After I got back to Tom and Anza, Tom started in with his nasty potty mouth. Both Anza and I were ready to kick his butt, but then out of nowhere the Major showed up.” I said.
“The next thing we knew, they were talking about duels, fights, and boxing rings.” Anza finished for me.
Morgan shook her auburn head. “All this was started by you and him walking arm in arm? What's up with that? I thought you didn't like men that way,” she accused me.
Anza and I traded looks as I warned, “Morgan, a very important safety tip, do not let him touch you.”
“I know I'm going to regret this, but why?” she asked.
Anza said, “I’ll take this one. What is one of life's most imperative demands after breathing and eating?”
“Reproduction comes to mind. Why?” Morgan asked with a raised eyebrow.
Grinning, Anza explained, “Because our dear Major Victory has some sort of energy field about him that stimulates biological activities such as healing, general wellness and at a guess...” She let it hang there.
Morgan was frozen, as her brain was busy working it's way though that thought.
A little evilly, I added, “So unless you want to know a whole lot more about being a woman it wouldn‘t be a good idea to get too touchy-feelie with him.”
We all giggled as we got a blush from Morgan, causing the boys to pause in their rules making to wonder what we were up to now.
As always, her brain was racing, seeing the possibilities. “But if that is so... and Tom... and he grapples won't he... ”
Together Anza and I chimed in together, “Yes!”
Shaking her head at us, she admonished, “Horus, or whoever did this to us, had no idea what it unleashed on the poor universe when it remade you two into women. Tom doesn't know any of this does he?”
Anza shook her head. “No we don't think so. Frankly at this point, neither of us cares. He went way too far this time. Misty and I are still new at this girl thing, to say nothing of being lovers. We are apt to have our little disagreements as we work things out. Tom was actively trying to make me think the worst of her tying to break us up. That pisses me off.”
Morgan disagreed. “Anza, Misty, I understand you being upset at Tom. Hell, he makes me mad too, but for someone who seems so homophobic being aroused at the touch of another man could be quite traumatic.”
Looking at Anza, I made up my mind. “You have my permission to end this if you can. However, both of us were wronged in this. What do you say Anza? ”
“Okay, but only because I don't think you'll be able to talk Blocky Ralboa or El Capitan Americana out of their testosterone induced bawl,” she said, not one bit contrite.
Morgan got up and went over to them just as they were climbing into the ring. I must admit I think she handled it well. She acted like the third-party in duels of old; asking if there were no way this affair could be settled in another fashion.
Of course, they both declined. She then asked the Major if she could impart information to his opponent that might influence his decision to stay and fight. Pleased at the old-fashion protocols, he magnanimously gave his permission with a nod.
Morgan went over to talk to Tom, but drat, we could not hear what they were saying. Whatever it was did not work for he was determined to stay. Disgusted, she left the ring and came back to rejoined us.
“Okay maybe this does seem to be even more idiotic when I’m female rather than male,” she snorted.
Okay, the long and short here is, I am not a fight commentator and could not describe half of what I saw anyways, but here is the short version.
Tom was smaller, lighter and fast so he made the first moves with a fury of punches and kicks. The Major took most of this in a traditional boxing stance, using his hands and arms to protect himself, while stepping aside from anything that could hit hard enough to hurt.
It soon became clear he was letting Tom tire himself out. To give Tom credit he must have had some sort of Taekwondo or similar training. Could be he was just further along than most of us towards unlocking the combat skills we had. Not that it did him a whole lot of good. Seeing how striking did not work, he tried use throws and leg sweeps, but the Major just turned them back on him.
What we did notice was that, just as we thought it would, any contact with Major, 'I've got a glow', Victory caused Tom to, pardon the pun, grow. His cotton shorts did not conceal it and it caused Tom to go almost berserk. He abandoned using any type of tactics and just whaled on the Major who skillfully avoided most of his insane onslaught.
It ended with Tom lying exhausted on the mat.
The Major knelt next to him and what went on between them; I would have given a lot to know. Finished, he stood up and addressed the rest of us. “You've seen some of what I can do. I'm sorry about any misunderstandings, but believe me when I say that you have to resolve any ill will between you. Each of your lives will depend on the actions of your comrades. I know this is hard for you, but you also have a potential I'm willing to help you discover, if you will let me. I prefer the easy way, but if this is what it takes, so be it. Please let me know your decision by the morning. Ladies, Gentlemen,” he bowed his head and left.
Morgan thoughtfully watched him leave. “That was a suckers bet. He had his shirt off to adsorb the sunlight for his bio-energy field. He must've had an idea Tom would behave like this.”
I half wanted to help Tom, but his stinging words still hurt too much. Mark and Will saved me from feeling guilty about it by climbing in and helping him.
“So what do you think? Should we accept his offer?” Anza asked.
“I don't see where we have any other choice. The Warders conditions included being trained by him, and if we don't agree we could end up on the run from the good and bad guys,” I said.
Morgan nodded in agreement. “No we don't have a choice, so yes, we accept his offer. I don't know what to do about Tom. Maybe the Major has some idea. I don't think it's your relationship, so much as the idea you both used to be guys, that is his problem.”
While we were discussing out future, Tom recovered enough to come over to us. “He won. Danny and Greg, I apologize for my comments. The two of you aren’t Misty and Esperanza, and I‘m not Streeter. We are who we have always been. What you two are doing is wrong, but I shouldn't have said what I did.”
He turned and walked away.
Anza gave his back a disapproving stare. “Apology accepted, I think.”
“Somehow I don't think this is over yet,” sighed Morgan.
Feeling dejected and hurt, I just wanted my old friend back. “You think? Tom just can't see pass the forms we had before. The problem was they weren't us! ” Waving my hands indicating Anza and myself I said, “This still isn't who we really are, but it is much, much closer.”
Anza purred, “Oh, I think I could learn to make do!”
We saw the guys clustering about the picnic table where Mark had dragged out his trusty drink cooler. He was passing out cold ones and damn didn't that seem like a good idea. I don't care for alcohol, but given the events of the past few days I was willing to make an exception.
“Well, girls now that we've decided what to do shall we go over there and let them know?” Morgan waved a hand over at the boys.”
Giggling in stereo, Anza and I chimed, “Lets!”
Laughing in mutual agreement, we went to claim our share of the refreshments and pass down our proclamation. It was not that easy, mind you. Tom and Mark did not much care for the military and it was certain the Major would use that style of teaching. For that matter Anza and Will weren't all that thrilled with the notion either.
Morgan and I having been there and done that knew how tough this could end up being. Necessary perhaps but still unpleasant like whenever you are pushed pass your limits to another plateau. We were being shoved out of our comfort zones like baby chicks out of their nest over a river full of crocodiles. It did not matter that we knew it had to happen and perhaps even wanted it. Accepting Major Victory’s offer was a commitment unlike anything most of us had ever faced before. Like with all such changes it was not easy but we faced it together as friends. We might have argued most of the afternoon and emptied out Mark’s cooler but that was all for forms sake. In our hearts, we had already agreed to accept the Major's offer of educating us in the way of the hero.
The small figure was torn between fear of even more strangers and the wonderful food. Never had it had such a feast even in the before-time, when Nurse had taken care of it. Being a Defective meant the perfect ones received the best food and attention. Looking at its small stomach now round from the recent banquets, a rumble from it sorely tempted it to continue. The one who had seen it had not sounded the alarm and with its long hair reminded it of Nurse. Remembering how everyone else treated it badly but her made it finally decide to take the risk. She would continue to venture out rather than hide in the down-below.
Mark still acted more than willing to fully accept us as women, if you know what I mean. He was polite, but his actions let us know he was ready anytime we were. Shuddering, I informed him that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell, not that it did any good! Anza told me he was just being a normal guy, Yuk! I told her I had never been that way as a guy, but she just gave me a kiss and replied, “You were never a guy, luv.” Sigh. |
Slowly swinging around in the expensive executive style office with brandy snifter in hand, Persuader smiled at the man dressed in ULTIMATE blue entering the office atop the New Riverside Federal building.
Startled, the high ranking officer went for his side arm, but stopped upon seeing the big man in red’s sardonic smile.
“A little jumpy are we? So this is how our tax dollars are spent? I'm shocked I tell you, simply shocked!” Persuader’s droll tone indicated nothing of the kind.
“What are you doing in my office? How did you get past the safeguards and security?” the man in the battledress uniform demanded with clenched teeth.
“No greetings for an old friend? I'm hurt. No matter. I'm here with a message for you from our dear Imperious Leader.” He indicated a rather old fashioned wax sealed packet of papers on the large mahogany desk. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll self-destruct or something equally dramatic after you read them. No need to worry that anyone here will learn of your bargain.” Persuader stood.
Finding his voice, the owner of the office declared, “It was never part of any bargain for any of you just to appear here.”
Smiling Persuader answered, “Perhaps you can bring that up to our Beloved Tyrant for Life’s attention the next time you see him. As for me, I wouldn’t want to chance something like that, but that’s just me, you understand. On a personal note, I was also given a verbal message to pass along.”
After making a show of clearing his throat, and taking an exaggerated theatric pose, he pronounced, “And I quote, ’If you happen to more than entertain those ideas about turning double-agent, just remember we know where your family lives and can get to them just as easily as we got though the so-called protections of your office at ULTIMATE.’ End quote” the man in red finished.
Dismayed, the man who’d thought he had the last word in secure offices watched a glowing arch of rainbow colors appear. With a sardonic bow, Persuader stepped into it and disappeared. As the arch faded, the man in blue gave the packet of papers the same look he would a box of venomous snakes. Spotting the empty glass, he angrily threw the snifter into the wastebasket where it shattered. “Just how did I get mixed up in all of this?” agonized one of ULTIMATE’s top commanders in New Riverside. Outside, the city was beginning another day, unaware of one man’s lonely fall from grace.
Heroes of Justice: Back to School
Solemnly, the Major accepted our decision and told us we would begin Monday, so the rest of the week was ours to sort out our secret identities. His manservant was on his way with some necessities so we should expect some visitors. Question had arranged for a cover story that an eccentric had purchased the property, and if asked about the activity, we were to pass ourselves off as employees of a Mr. Roland.
For Anza and myself, we just gave Twin Peaks a call and left a message that we had found better paying jobs. Tom and Mark gave out a cover story that they were taking care of security for this Roland guy, so they too had it easy. Will and Morgan, well, someone had to have problems! I didn't get involved in it, but there was a thing about broken contracts and penalties from Channel 7 News. The helicopter was Will's, but he was acting as a subcontractor. The real world versus the comics, I guess. They did get it sorted in the end.
We moved what few belongings we had in our house into storage, or back to the Rent-for-a-Bundle store. That didn't take too long ,because we couldn't take too much back with us, bearing in mind we had limited space available. So of course we went shopping! Tom's trick with using our birthdays as PIN's for our debit cards worked for everyone else too, so armed with money, off we went!
We had a great time, and Cape and I helped out Anza and Morgan by resizing a few items for them. Of course I didn't need to purchase anything for me, but did buy some gifts and other such. Cape did try to shoplift a few things but I caught on and stopped it before it caused any trouble. I think it was only looking for attention and wanted me to catch it. Playing fetch with a dog would've been so much easier on the nerves.
Major Victory's manservant with a few necessities, turned into a convoy of fifteen RV's and trucks loaded down with everything from dishes to phased plasma rifles in the 40 watt range. A diminutive old Asian man got out of the first RV, and after talking to the Major, inspected our quarters, as well as the training areas.
While he was doing that the other 30 or 40 drivers and passengers started hooking up utilities for the RV's. I thought Huey, Dewey and Louie were going to lose their robotic minds with all the activity, but after someone thought to include them, they got right to work helping. I couldn't help but observe that nearly everyone had a family resemblance to the Major's manservant, whose name I learned was Chang. Keeping it in the family I suppose, but I was just glad he wasn't named Chung from a small village of assassins in North Korea.
Proclaiming the entire facility was insufficient, he grudgingly admitted it had potential. The last we saw of him, he was serenely delegating tasks to his extended family, while the Major was busy in one of the RV's, designing the training program.
That's when I noticed that local area building supply trucks were making deliveries to the far end of the railway tunnel we had seen on our way in. By this time it was the weekend and, while the guys were eager to go clubbing, I was happy to just catch a dinner and a movie with Anza. What can I say? I've always enjoyed such, so why should I change now?
I asked Anza how she felt about that, because I knew she loved the dancing and the night life, but she just muttered something about not letting me anywhere near booze and men. You think she was still jealous? Morgan had been taking it easy after her marathon shopping trip with us. I think she was evaluating just how she felt about being a girl and if she was going to come clean with the Major about the matter. It could be tough on her to stay a woman for the entire training period.
I did pick up the history book the Major recommended and splurged on a laptop. Almost as soon as I got it home, Reid, the AI, started berating me about what a piece of junk it was. I asked if it could do better. It of course replied it could and asked me what my needs were, Darn uppity machines! I broke down and told it I needed to be able access information on the web and other basic functions, such as a college student would need.
No that wasn't enough for it! It wanted to wager that, if it could do better, it wanted me to learn how to fly the helicopter. I told the cotton-picking thing that I didn't need better, just something basic was fine. Besides, I didn't need a helicopter to be able to fly. Eventually I gave in, as it kept cutting in while I was trying to web surf, just so it would leave me alone. Geez!
On Sunday we had a private ceremony celebrating our one full week as girls. I must admit I was a little sad that our quiet hole in the ground had turned as busy as a downtown street in Hong Kong. I did continue the ritual of leaving a plate of food in the conference room at night. When asked by Mr. Chang as to why, I simply said, ‘to appease the spirits.’ That was good enough for him, and he said no more about the subject. Someone had been eating that food but the only clue I could find about who it was one small fingerprint I found on the foil. ‘Curiouser and curiouser’ a girl named Alice once said.
I wanted to start reading my book but didn't have the time. Checking our old email addresses, I found them either unused or taken by someone else so no help there. Mostly we just kicked back, but from the grins on the guys faces, they must've been successful in their hunt for feminine companionship the night before. Even the somber Will, and the recently nasty Tom, had mellowed out and were upbeat.
All too soon it was Monday morning.
Not too surprising, and just as we had thought, Major Victory's idea of training was modeled on military basic training, with influences from more than one special warfare group. Anyone who has ever seen a movie about military life has a good idea what it was all about.
That is mostly because there were also classes on everything from first aid to how to defuse a bomb. It seemed Mr. Chang's extended family could provide an able instructor on just about any subject. One of the interesting variations from military training was the science classes. For us strong types it went into details about physical physics, while for Morgan it focused on how lasers worked and their limitations. In short, how our powers would interact with the world at large.
The classes were intermixed with exercises, Such things as sudden attacks by everything from black clad ninja’s, to hi-tech commandoes, among other ambushers. Afterwards we were grilled about numbers, weapons and descriptions. Morgan and I didn't have too much of a problem with the constant drilling and stress. It was much like our military days, except now we were in much better psychical condition to withstand the rigors. Anza, with her experience as an ER nurse, was also able to adapt quickly, but the boys weren't used to this kind of stuff. This isn't to say they had a hard time but rather since it something new to them, it took them longer to get into the groove.
Tom and Mark were very mechanical minded, and between the two them they did well at picking up using the weapons and other skills using devices. Will quickly became a master at causing mayhem with his hands and, as he became able to access his character's skills, was a expert outdoorsman. Heck, he was even able to fly the helicopter, despite Reid's dry comments to the contrary.
This all took time and a lot of practice. However, compared to learning all this for the first time, we picked it up much faster. Skills which our characters had possessed we excelled at very quickly. Others we became more proficient at along a more normal curve, but still quicker than average.
Getting up at Oh-dark-thirty became old real fast like. The routine and constant testing was relentless. For that first week in hell, at least we had a diversion of sorts. We found out what all those building supplies were for. The astonishing Mr. Chang revealed among his other talents, that of a home builder.
We've all seen that program on the TV where they build a house in just seven days. Mr. Chang did them one better by building a mansion. Did I mention the hanger, garage, and other support buildings he added to the existing facilities while he was at it? Somehow he got Huey, Dewey, and Louie, our robot sentries to help, along with more of their robotic cousins than I could count. I had kinda suspected that there was more to this place than what we could see, but hiding a small army of robots?
I asked Reid, our AI, about it, and he said he wasn't at liberty to speak about it. The darn thing was being snotty again, because it had won its bet with me over that darn laptop. What it presented me with was far beyond what I needed. It had more bells and whistles than I would ever use, but he also had included a learning function that would track what capabilities I used and would reconfigure itself to optimize those functions. So on top of everything else, I was taking flight training, but considering what I got in exchange, it was worth it. Besides, I’d always wanted to get my pilot's license, but my hearing had been so far below normal it wasn't possible.
The Major approved of my cross-training with Will and encouraged it. He even had the rest of us teaching classes, such as Anza and Morgan on first aid and me on what being a trained observer was all about. The new mansion gave us more space and we had what amounted to our own apartments. It was a reward for finishing what the Major called phase ‘A’, which was more or less testing and bringing out our previously unusable talents.
Going into phase B we still could expect to be jumped by armed men at any time, but we had classes on knowing our enemy, which entailed as much information as was available about known Syndicate enforcers and the mercenaries working with them. We moved into the advanced combat classes taught by more of Mr. Chang's family of experts, and became even more proficient in promoting mayhem with everything from bare hands to those phased plasma rifles I told you about earlier.
I remarked to Morgan one day after a training exercise in freeing hostages from a bank robbery, that this was very much like the training that Delta Force or SEALs go though. She replied that, as concentrated as the Major's course was, it would make their Hell Week, where they weed out undesirables and incompetents look like a cakewalk.
We had done everything wrong, of course, and were standing in the paintball splattered training area on our way to have the Major tell us just how badly and where we had screwed up. At the same time, Morgan was doing some cramming for a test, tuning her lasers into the infrared spectrum, making them invisible, lucky her!
I was scheduled for a hand to hand combat class with our dear Commandant, Major Victory. We girls had a chat with him about that 'aura' of his, and he had apologized to us. It was involuntary for him, but there were ways to reduce its effects. With him being the only instructor available for us to go all out with in combat, believe me, that made everyone happier, especially the boys!
Even more so because, to control that 'glow,' the Major had to be careful of how much energy he was exposed to. That also made him somewhat less powerful, but unfortunately for us, no less dangerous, because he regularly kicked us all around the Dojo. These sessions with him were more for forcing us to fully exert ourselves than any other reason.
The real combat classes like the simulated bank robbery, were team work exercises. Some were tests in helping each other get from point A to point B as fast as possible, while others involved sneaking into the quarry with full security activated. We learned that all of us were pretty good at sneaking about, but Will and his animal spirits had cornered the market. He'd learned how to call others besides that bear of his. I would tell what some of them were, but I think he would hurt me!
Anza and I had always made a good pair in combat, and now we added Morgan, with her laser powers. The two of them were kinda the main fire power and snipers when needed, with me playing safety, taking care of anyone that got too close. Mark and Will were our flankers, with the ever popular Tom playing cavalry and scout.
During our time of trial, the syndicate stayed active. Although the Warders managed to capture a rather deranged Elf-like parody named Sprite to add to the merc called Cazadora we’d caught in the mall parking lot, ULTIMATE still hadn't activated a Supersuit team to help with the problem. They had sent more of their dropship strike teams, however not to anyone's surprise, they did little good.
By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, the situation was still pretty grim in New Riverside. Being the only one with any intelligence analysis experience, I had picked out a pattern that concerned me. The few remaining diehard independents had banded together, and the Syndicate was hunting them down mercilessly. Violence was still happening with depressing regularity, but after checking records, I saw that the Syndicate’d had very few encounters with ULTIMATE’s strike teams.
The problem was that the few times they ran into each other, Syndicate enforcers deliberately avoided all out engagements with the strike teams. They just broke off and faded away. What's more, the strike teams had been most curiously unable to find any of those holdouts still in hiding. That suggested some nasty possibilities like corruption, within the ULTIMATE organization. I passed this on to the Major and the Warders, and with a sigh, closed up shop for Thanksgiving.
Just like with everything else we were learning, Major Victory just couldn't do anything halfway. The mansion was less than 3 weeks old, but it was decorated for the season. To call the spread that Mr. Chang and his army of cooks put on a feast, was an understatement. Several of the Warders showed, including Question and his wife. Joining them were eight others who we learned were old friends and war buddies. Later that day we were told they would be helping teach us in phase ‘C‘.
I wanted to know how many cotton-picking phases this ordeal had! Besides, Mike had been able to join us as well, and he was looking good. I mean that literally! He had lost a good 20 lbs and his limp was less pronounced. We’d been keeping in contact with emails about what was going on here with Major Victory, and he’d been making use of the Warder's state of the art virtual reality training sims, trying to learn anything that could help us.
When the Major caught us talking 'business' he put a quick end to that. Today was a day of thanks, and all work was to be shelved for today. Gathering the horde for the feast we all ate till we felt like we would pop. The Major made sure that Mr. Chang and his staff joined us, despite their protests. He said everyone could serve themselves, in that no nonsense way of his.
Afterwards almost everybody adjourned to watch the big game on the TV, but for some reason I was feeling a bit edgy. Mr. Chang's family made their escape and were busy with post dinner tasks, and I followed them to make a plate for my 'ghost'. Even Anza ribbed me a little about it, but I told her I just wanted some quiet time to read. I still hadn't gotten to that history book I’d bought, and this was the perfect time to kick back. She was just making sure all was cool with me, but I encouraged her to go and enjoy the rowdy activities. Lured by the yells of those whose team won the toss, she hurried away to witness the ritual carnage of American Football.
The old building where we'd stayed, when we first got to the Hole, had been refurbished into office space for the teachers and others, like my little Intelligence shop. The conference room was pretty much the same, and I opened up my book after placing the overflowing plate full of Thanksgiving fare on the end of the table.
One of the nice things about being a girl now, was being limber and small enough to curl myself into almost any chair. I still missed those 3 or 4 inches of height I'd lost, but there were some compensations. In the past I had always just left my offering, but I was still feeling unsettled for some reason. Back home I'd always found escaping into a good book a solace, and, after being run into the ground for the last 3 weeks or so, just zoning out was really seductive.
The book, “The Day the Seas Burned: the Story of Operation Downfall ” was written in a style much like the popular books about the D-Day landings and the far bridges of Operation Market Garden. It was very good, and I soon learned why the nuclear attacks at Hiroshima and Nagasaki had failed. In the days before the bombing, a Japanese mystic, who was a member of one of their warrior societies, much like the Allies superhero teams, had foretold a great ball of fire that would fall from the heavens and consume the city.
That morning the samurai Rising Sun arrived in Hiroshima to stop the coming disaster. One of the more powerful heroes of the war years, he had elemental fire at his command. Becoming aware of the American bomber, he was too late to stop the plane from dropping its lethal cargo, but he did keep the bomb from exploding.
Three days later he made another supreme effort that also stopped the Nagasaki attack. The Allies, disheartened by those failures, abandoned trying to use the hideously expensive weapons to force a surrender, and Operation Downfall, the Invasion of Japan was ordered.
Unknown to the Allies, Rising Sun had, in his efforts, suffered fatal radiation poisoning at Hiroshima and had sacrificed himself to save Nagasaki. The Russian invasion of Japanese occupied territories in China and Korea that began during this time, tempted the Japanese Government to surrender, but the circumstances of Rising Sun's death encouraged them to think that by sacrificing themselves, all was not lost.
Well, that answered why the A-bombs had failed. I looked to the index and was appalled at the casualty figures. Over a million Allied dead, and the number of Japanese dead was far more than that. The title of the book came from the thousands of Kamikazes that hit the Allied fleets in waves of hundreds at a time. Even worse, the US and Great Britain had fallen into conflict with Soviet Forces in Korea.
The US and the UK had landed troops at Inchon which, in our world, had resulted in a divided nation. Due to foolish mistakes on both sides and the refusal of the Kremlin to back down open conflict had broken out. That conflict had ended when their own invasion of the northern Japanese island of Hokkaido had failed. It was an unfortunate omen of what was to come just a few years later when North Korea invaded the southern peninsula.
That's when Cape gently tapped me on my shoulder. Glancing up I saw the wall raise, silently revealing a secret passage deeper into the hill. I pretended to continue reading as a small figure tentatively peered though into the conference room.
My word, this was just a child! I really wasn't sure if it was a girl or boy at first, but it was painfully thin and had ragged, shoulder length hair that looked to have been hacked off by a cleaver. Half the child's face was obscured, and the poor thing looked and smelled as if its last bath was far too long ago. Barefoot, it was dressed in an overly large pair of coveralls, with the sleeves and cuffs rolled. The single eye I could see was watching me very intently, but moved slowly towards the overfull Thanksgiving plate with a purpose.
Picking up the plate it moved backwards, as if expecting to be jumped at anytime. Waiting till it was almost in the secret passage, I slowly lowered my book.
She, yes it was a she… I decided, stopped, frozen like some wild thing trapped in the lights.
I as softly as I could, “You're welcome. Happy Thanksgiving.”
She jumped at the sound, but didn't flee as I was afraid she might. So softly I wasn't even sure I heard it, she replied, “Thank you.” and the door closed, keeping her secrets.
“BUZZZZZ!” When my communicator went off I felt a surge of alarm from Anza that nearly made me wet myself!
“Mystery here,” I answered, already heading out, book in hand.
“Get up here! Something has happened!” Morgan ordered.
“On the way!” I half-ran, half-flew into the mansion and found the game preempted by a news flash. Damn! The end of the world must be nigh for them to do that! Question, the rest of the Warders and Will passed me running full out to Reid the Chopper, having left their team transport at its base. Will was the fastest way back to New Riverside for the Warders.
Sliding to a stop, everyone was clustered about the set. A frantic reporter was yelling into his mike over the explosions of taking place behind him. Panning up, the camera showed a typical ugly Federal office building, with flames coming from the building's upper floor windows.
“That's where they held me. ULTIMATE headquarters in New Riverside.” Mike whispered with his eyes locked on the TV.
With an ear splitting “WHOOSH!” the flames all died at once, leaving nothing but smoky wisps floating from the upper levels of the building. The reason why became clear as a flaming apparition like the Human Blowtorch flew up, allowing a pair of black painted helicopters to land on the roof. The camera showed flashes of gunfire from the now darkened windows, and debris rained down from the constant explosions. With a shock, I saw that some of that debris was bodies, as one wounded blue armored trooper fell the twenty some odd stories onto a car, causing it to explode in a shower of glass!
I grabbed Morgan's arm, but she looked at Major Victory and gave a sad shake of her head.
The other guests were watching the tragedy as well, most with sadness, some with anger.
Major Victory just stood there, expressionless. Finally, acknowledging us, he said softly, “You aren't ready and this will be over before they can get there.” Throwing his head at our helicopter, its red lined engine roaring as it sped off into the sky.
“What would you say, Geoff?” he asked a man with gray at his temples. “Extra pilots for the dropships onboard those two helos that just landed following the assault?”
Geoff responded, “If it’s a mass breakout, yes. A Blaster with fire to trigger the fire alarms and clear the upper floors, while their strikers take out the security stations and free the prisoners. He then secures the flight deck, and the extra pilots land, and fly out the escapees in ULTIMATE's own aircraft. Risky, but it simplifies the logistics.”
The TV made it look like a war zone, with the streams of tracer fire and explosions. A news helicopter, Will's and Morgan's replacements, showed glimpses of the armored troopers fighting for their lives. They proved no match for the villains who were smashing all in their path. I think I saw Big Red, our sparring partner from the mall, but I couldn't be sure.
True to the Major's prediction, we could see the pirated dropships lift from the roof a short time later. Playing rear guard, a somewhat familiar large goon leaped the 20 stories from the ravaged building to the ground, shattering the pavement on landing. We could see Will's Chopper and the Warders racing to the scene, but they were too late, as the figure churned into the earth and disappeared.
“Man Mountain,” someone snorted. “At least now we know what happened to him. Just another brick for the Syndicate.”
I hung my head as the TV revealed in the strobing lights of the emergency vehicles, just how bad this was. “Well, so much for my theory.”
The Major touched my shoulder, “Not at all, Mystery. In fact this validates something is seriously amiss with ULTIMATE here.”
He turned to Geoff, “She has some intelligence training and spotted a trend suggesting a mole within ULTIMATE.”
He pulled himself up straight. “Colonel Geoff Stone, late of Her Majesty's Special Air Service. Not knowing all the details, I tend to be in agreement. A holiday, the least capable personnel on duty, and at a time when they are the most distracted. Tailor-made for a mole to reasonably claim they were blameless. It would be an excellent way to throw an analyst like yourself off the scent,” he postulated.
He then continued, saying “You were right to call on my services, Major. That operation was as professional as any of our chaps could have managed. I've never liked the red tape ULTIMATE has tied themselves up in. Excuse me, Miss. Officially they are the only part of any government that is allowed to enlist extraordinarily endowed individuals like yourselves. Like the SALT treaties were intended to limit nuclear weapons during the Cold War, it was to do the same with those with meta, or super powers. Of course nearly everyone has developed ways of getting around that clause. What it really does, is limit the resources any super team has. I don't mean secret headquarters, and gadgets from bad spy movies, but like the Major has done here. Advanced training and tactics that usually only a government has the resources to provide.”
He gestured at the grim scene still playing, “Most criminal organizations lack the discipline to manage this, and keep their activities secret. Those with the knowledge are usually traceable and so events like this are rare. Even you Yanks, and how strange you get during your election years, can't explain why a Superpowered Reaction Team hasn't been sent here yet. No, something is amiss and I agree these lads and lasses seem to be our best bet for a response.”
My companions and I were nervous about the attention when we noticed everyone in the room had been listening to the SAS Colonel’s lecture. First, all the military style stuff, ninjas and now even SAS trainers? Whatever happened to danger rooms and the colorful life of the hero?
Okay, that's a stupid question, because I know exactly what happened to it. This was not a game or a good natured brawl, but something deadly serious. We were going though with all of this because we wanted every advantage we could get our hands on. No fair fights, and kissing and making up afterwards as if this was professional wrestling or something.
No, we were not being drilled into becoming cold-blooded killers, but realizing that, because of our powers, we had more options open to us than other people might. Our training was, like that of police officers, teaching us to use other means when we could, but if there was no other way to keep others from harm, then so be it.
The rest of the evening was a lost cause, but we did hang out with Mike until the Warders came back to claim him. They stayed, helping find the wounded, and doing what they could. Will even helped with a couple trips to the hospital, playing medivac.
Mike and Tom did have a long talk, and I for one, was praying hard that it helped. Tom still was having problems with us, but he'd put it away somehow. The part that sucked, was that I was an empath, and could feel the conflict within him. As far as I could tell he just couldn't help how he felt, even when he tried not to. It was just emotions I was sensing, but still had no clue as to why. Anza had turned apathetic as far as Tom was concerned. “Just another asshole in the world,” was how she thought of him. Me, I was struck with knowing he was hurting over this, and didn’t have the vaguest clue how to help. Sometimes life just plain sucks!
Mark still acted more than willing to fully accept us as women, if you know what I mean. He was polite, but his actions let us know he was ready anytime we were. Shuddering, I informed him that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell, not that it did any good! Anza told me he was just being a normal guy, Yuk! I told her I had never been that way as a guy, but she just gave me a kiss and replied, “You were never a guy, luv.” Sigh.
Safe in each others arms we fell asleep, letting our care for each other chase away the terrible events of the day while reliving the pleasant ones.
She ate so much she could hardly breathe. The computer showed her something had upset the strangers, but she didn't know or understand exactly what had happened. The restrictive learning functions would only let her access just so much. Thinking back, it still made her shake when she thought about the chance she had taken tonight. She had even spoken to the long haired one so like Nurse. Well, she had talked with computer before, but that wasn't the same.
Not knowing why some part of her so missed the hugs and smiles Nurse used to give her, she curled up in a tight knot and gently cried herself to sleep.
Heroes of Justice: Tests
The Major had promised us the weekend after Thanksgiving off for a little R & R. That’s rest and relaxation, for you non-military types. Of course it being Black Friday, the best shopping day of the year, you just know what most of us had in mind. However, we were not going to New Riverside. Courtesy of Reid the Chopper, New York City was only a few hours away. New Riverside was just too unsettled right now, and he thought we had less chance of getting into trouble in the Big Apple.
He didn't know us very well, did he? Okay, nothing major did happen, and we all had a great time, even if Mike couldn't come along. I did ask one of the numerous Changs to leave food for my ghost before leaving. On the way to our adventure I hashed a few things out with Reid. Using my laptop I had a private chat with him about my 'ghost'.
Reid said honestly he didn't know there was a young girl hiding in the old base. He'd known someone was, but strangely, the computer treated her like one of its own peripherals. What it could tell me was that the base had belonged to a crazed meta-scientist who had no moral qualms about using human research subjects, willing or not. This Dr. Vole had been taken down by the Warders about four years ago. They had, with the help of a telepath, cleared the base. Rather than demolish it, they had decided to use it as an auxiliary base that the heavy handed ULTIMATE knew nothing about.
Even last night I had felt nothing, using my empathy from my 'ghost', so she either knew how to shield her mind, or had some sort of natural protection. That would explain why the Warder's telepath had found nothing. Reid added that Dr. Vole’s mutation had left his body deformed, and he was driven to try and correct that. Presently the dear doctor was serving several consecutive life terms in prison for murder, kidnapping and numerous other convictions.
Okay. Right then I made a promise to myself to try and do more for my ghost. Maybe I could pick up something for my 'ghost' to wear that was nicer than an oversized ragged jumpsuit. Having made that decision, I relaxed and enjoyed the flight.
I'm not going to go into details about our trip, except to say it was a blast! It was the first time most us had visited the Big Apple. We did get into trouble, but got out of it as well. Much money was spent, and many gifts were shipped back to our humble hole in the ground.
Wouldn’t you know it? We got our first visit from Aunt Flo! It wasn’t surprising that we were synchronized, even for our introduction to the icky part about being all woman because of our bond. I freaked out a little seeing blood coming from down there. Anza, on the other hand, rejoiced, seeing it as the final proof that she was finally as she always should have been. There were some emotional fireworks because of the moodiness, and some generally feeling crappy, but mostly our bond allowed us to comfort and support each other. It might've been a better experience if our periods hadn't decided to visit us, but as much as an ordeal that was, we were determined to live this trip to the hilt and we did! Thank Gawd for Midol!
To my shock, and to the alarm of my companions, Reid and Will had me fly us back home to the Hole. It served as my certification flight, or as close as we could come to one, while keeping our activities secret. Will didn't have a problem, because his secret ID already had a pilot's license, but we would have to find time for me to take the test in my civilian ID. I think though, I'll forget some of the combat maneuvers Reid taught me until after I pass my test.
Isn't that the way life works? Climbing out of the Long Ranger, I was feeling pretty good. The flight had gone well and I had put us down nice and easy. Reid said Will was a better instrument flier than I was, but I had a very nice 'seat of the pants' or instinctive feel for flying. Then there was him standing stone faced, waiting for us, and I just knew the Major came bearing bad news.
“What!!!” all of us exclaimed in shock. With a flick of his finger, Major Victory started the security camera footage of what the News services were calling, ‘The Thanksgiving Day Massacre.’ There, on the large screen TV, was me, busily kicking the butt out of some poor, blue uniformed schmuck guarding their prisoners. Just so I didn't feel alone, there was Lady Diamond, and Renegade to help me.
The problem was, we were innocent, innocent, I tell you! We didn't do it! We were being framed, I tell you!
Major Victory knew that, because of course we had spent Thanksgiving dinner with him, and were watching the game with him at the time. The problem was, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, we were now officially bad guys on the most wanted list!
Colonel Stone just smiled as if he'd gotten Christmas a month early. With his hands clasped him behind himself, “Masterful work, my dear! You've given us our first real lead in this case.”
A little stunned, I wondered just what he was talking about, “Excuse me, but didn't you see that? We're being framed, and now have arrest warrants out for us!”
Okay, maybe I was freaking out a little here, but so was the rest of our gang. Right, maybe gang was the wrong word to use here! All of us were in shock, and even the ever calm and rational Morgan was indignant.
The Colonel still smiling insufferably continued, “This confirms your theory. There wasn't a single eyewitness, so this tape is the sole evidence against you. It is almost certain that our mole planted this, and those with security access to do so makes for a quite small list. Question's draconian security measures have given us an advantage. It seems the Syndicate believes you are still hiding. Instead, you have some very reputable souls to support your claims of innocence ”
He addressed us all, “I know this is a new experience for you, but I can assure you that you are not alone in your task. A group of villains as well organized and trained as these chaps is something we take very seriously indeed.”
Giving me a wink, “It would be much same reaction as if a group of terrorists had nuclear devices. This is a threat any government would take seriously, for such could inflict unspeakable harm upon the world. I know my companions and I might seem over the hill to youngsters like yourselves, but when we speak, those who know, listen.”
On that happy note we went off to unpack from our trip and were considerably subdued. We couldn't bring many of our purchases back with us, but instead were having them shipped. For myself, I needed very little in the way of clothing, leaving that to Cape. I did find a few precious jumpers that I just had to have for my ghost. Cape had a great eye for sizes and, although it was tempting to get a few dresses, the child might never had worn them before. So I settled on a couple of jumpers and some cute but simple sandals.
Anza had been giving me the eye, watching me, and I think she was beginning to believe that my ghost was real. Feeding wandering spirits was one thing, but buying clothes for them? She was developing a blind spot that, feeling that if she couldn't sense someone with her powers, then there was nothing there. Hey, I admit my ghost could be a robot or something else that Anza or my powers couldn’t find, but one that ate like a starving kid? Besides, since I didn't buy much for myself, it was fun shopping for gifts for others.
That night I left one of the jumpers and a pair of sandals along with my usual offering of food. I was relived to find the next morning, that my offering had been accepted, except for the sandals which had been left behind. Oh well, two out of three isn’t bad!
Our schedule changed some the next day. Yes we still had advanced individual training and joint team problems, but we were also put to work actively investigating the Syndicate. I had already done some work of the work by mapping out their encounters, which had given us a clue to the mole. Now the rest of the crew was put to work, too.
Tom's talents had really blossomed under his tutors, and our maps grew with the information he provided. It only made sense, with him being a Batguy like character. He had plenty of detective oriented abilities and he was learning more about using them everyday.
Mark's Wolfen also had all kinds of useful things that started making themselves known during our investigation. His character's secret ID had been a security specialist. Along with Morgan, the two of them were like a walking forensics laboratory. What he couldn't scent, she could see. You’ve seen those TV shows using UV light to reveal blood stains and a host of other clues? Morgan, with her crystal peepers, could do the same without the use of a lab. Adding that to Tom's knowledge, we started narrowing down where our mysterious Syndicate chief had his throne.
Don't think I'm leaving out my lover. With her mental powers she was an interrogator bar none. That was just part of all she could do. She'd taking classes from one of the Chang's who was a doctor in Chinese medicine, and he was teaching her how to adapt her powers to the practice of medicine. While not a fully trained doctor, some of things she could accomplish were almost miraculous, since it was entirely non-invasive. If that wasn't enough, she had any number of lesser abilities, like object reading and finding. The problem was, she was very powerful, and if she used her powers fully, other telepaths would pick up on it, so she had to keep a low profile.
It was a bit like two submarines playing a game of cat and mouse. They each have powerful sonar that can detect the other, but if they use it, they reveal their location to anyone listening. So instead they sulk, listening and waiting for the other to make the first mistake.
Of course all this was with some risk as we began making sorties out of our humble hole in the ground. We carefully planned each trip and were limited to what the assigned investigators missed, except for Anza of course, who needed close contact to read minds.
Back at our humble hole, Colonel Stone was teaching us advanced tactics, and how to plan operations. More to the point, what to do when, predictably, a plan failed. When to abort and when to improvise. He was an unforgiving taskmaster, but he was big on the SAS motto, 'Those who dare, win.'
“Be creative! Thinking outside the box is the best way to outfox your opponents. The military is often accused of being uncreative and of being overly fond of brute force. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have grown to know you, and you have become very good in an extremely short time. Some of that is due to your unusual origin, but some is just pure intelligence and ability.
“Any operation is vulnerable to changes, and there is always the element of chance. What we've been doing is to try our very best to make you better at calculating the odds than your adversaries. This Syndicate is well financed and has access to resources that most countries lack. We are seeing signs that it is beginning to expand its influence to other large cities.
“Recent pressure over the unfortunate events has prompted ULTIMATE to dispatch their Meta Reaction Team One. What the Syndicate's reaction is going to be is unknown, but I can make some guesses. Their activities are going to become more public and then after some epic battle, the Syndicate is going to be defeated. This will be done in such a way that it will leave no bodies, or perhaps a unidentified one or two. Our mole will, perhaps, claim to be responsible, ensuring his rise in the bureaucracy, while in reality the disease will have spread to even more cities.
“So Ladies and Gentlemen, we do have a schedule. Before this happens we need to end this, and we are ready to support you when that happens. Dismissed!”
Despite the gloomy forecast of our instructors, we were cheerful. Anza and I were looking forward to our first Christmas together just a week away. The guys, particularity Tom, seemed happy and were getting into the spirit of the season.
The Major had provided a Christmas tree, that is if you could call that behemoth he chopped down, a Christmas tree. It barely fit though the double doors and was twenty feet tall if it was an inch! Everyone had a wonderful time decorating it, with even the Chang family’s horde of youngsters getting in on the act. I never did figure out if they were Christians, or Buddhists, but everyone was happy, so why worry about it?
Walking back with the rest of our crew, I saw Tom showing Mark a gift he'd gotten for a girl he'd been seeing on our weekends off. It was a very pricey looking necklace. Now I was curious, because I thought he had a fiancé back home, but this looked kinda serious.
Then Mark showed Tom his brooch for his girlfriend. This all surprised me because they'd been going to this local club most weekends for the last four or five weeks, but I hadn't known they'd been seeing the same women all that time.
Will had gone out with one of Chang's numerous granddaughters, but that had come to a sudden stop when the elder Chang had objected. Personally I would've stopped the first time she came at me with a sword, since she was one of the ninjas that helped train us, and was now working with us.
Mr. Chang had an old fashioned view of such things, and that was that. However I still caught the two of them giving each other the look, if you know what I mean. Anza and I had talked about this, but as much as we wanted to play matchmaker for Will, Mr. Chang was a formidable foe!
I still suspected that Will had gotten his ninja a gift, but was keeping it low key if you know what I mean. Having my own problems with gift giving was keeping me busy. How do you keep secrets from a telepath? One answer is, you don't. I had gotten her a lot of what I thought was cute stuff, that I thought she would like. I tried not to think about my real gift for her that was something special. If she had seen anything, it was just part of what I had planned, or so I hoped.
We had made it about halfway back to the mansion when Cape started warning me that something bad was on the way. Not breaking stride, I alerted Morgan and Will who were within touch, while letting Anza know with our link. They passed it on to Mark and Tom. If anyone had been looking, we just looked to have shared a joke.
We weren't in costume, but really didn't need to be, with our military style clothing we wore for training serving the same purpose. Most of us didn't need much in the way of gear, but the stuff we were wearing weighed the same. Tom, who was our gadgetmaster, had all his toys in the exact same locations on his fatigues as on his costume. The Major insisted upon us being prepared at all times.
Even though Cape had me in modern looking gear, it had the same characteristics as my medieval style costume. Cape, being fashion conscious as always, had objected but in the end had given in. Well sorta, because the underwear it had insisted on decking me out in, underneath this drab stuff, still made Anza pant every night.
The guys slipped their gifts into pockets and, like the rest of us started looking for the nature of the trouble. Whatever it was had caught us walking in the open, so ninjas were most likely out, but not so, snipers. Anza raised her TK shield which, at low power, was invisible, while the guys, still acting like they were joking, scanned the area for trouble.
I had only a split second of warning before a steel vice grabbed my arm and threw me into the guys! Well, tried to, because Cape wrapped around his hand, binding us together. Using that velocity, I swung around and piled-drove both legs into his face. He staggered back, but then tried to shake me off his arm like a bug!
I heard the sounds of the others in combat, but was so busy holding on to Mr. Shaky Hands, I couldn't say anything. Whee! What a ride!
Mark yelled out, “Shooter, lethal!”
Anza more calmly, “Sword, lethal.”
Tom reverted back to Streeter speak, “Shocker.”
Morgan simply, “Flier.” She had been picked up and thrown into the air!
Will grunted, “Invisible.”
Then there was me! “Briiickkk!!!!” I responded, while dopplering in and out during my mad swings.
This is where being drilled for weeks on end was going to help, as we all dropped to the ground. All but one, Lady Diamond, who was still falling. A few weeks ago all she could've done was pulse and try to blind our foes. Now, however, she flashed a laser into each of their eyes. Yeah the beams were broad, and so lacked power, because her accuracy shooting at six different target wasn't that good. It was powerful enough to leave afterimages even with protection or with them closed.
Will reached out and traded places with Mark, who had shifted to Wolfen. With a twitching nose, he went after the invisible man. Anza rolled onto her back and nabbed Morgan, and the winged flier, with her TK. Dependent on his wings for flight, he couldn't fight her and fell limp.
Morgan snapped off another beam at Tom's electrical foe. She was not trying to damage or blind Tom’s opponent, but to ionize the air between them. The blaster let fly with another bolt that, instead of arcing for Tom, followed the beam's ionizaition trail up and Morgan simply absorbed most it. The rest was unable to effect her crystalline body.
Tom stepped in front of Anza and, with his tonfa, sparred with the now blind swordswoman, not that it seemed slow her down much. The spinning dervish’s blades striking Streeter’s whirling tonfas sounded like a buzz saw hitting a nail! Even blind, she tried to get past him but with his reflexes and tools, that was not going to happen today!
Cape and I didn't bother getting to our feet. We flew between Will's legs as he grew to Renegade size just as the blinded shooter put a double-tap into him, right where Wolfen's heart would've been. For Renegade it might have tickled, but he backflipped, slamming a size 14 boot into the guy who had grabbed me.
I smashed into the shooter, who like all of these guys, was dressed in urban camouflage outfits, but before she could hit the ground, she disappeared! Having sparred with far too many bloody ninjas of late, I blocked the blow she threw at me after rematerializing behind me.
“Shooter, T-port,” I sang out, as she and I fought. She was using some kind of Gun-Fu technique, using her pistols as clubs while trying to get off a shot. Me, I was seeing stars because she had fired off a shot right beside my head. This bitch was playing for keeps, because the concussion from a shot that close can kill, even if just using blanks.
Cape had tried to engulf her a few times, but she did her ghost thing and slipped out. The next time she ghosted, I dropped flat and Cape made me disappear. Well kinda, by making my clothes match the ground almost exactly. It wasn't perfect, but if I didn't move, it came close.
While she looked around for me after she reappeared, I hit her with a sucker punch that ended this little bout. “Mystery, clear!”
Other shouts rang out, “Esperanza, clear”
“Diamond, clear!” said Morgan, kneeling near the unconscious blaster whose body was still sending off electrical arcs. “Streeter, break, break, break!”
Tom rapidly backstepped from the whirling dervish as Morgan's beam conducted the last of her adversary's energy arcing to the swordswoman's blade, shocking her into unconsciousness.
“Streeter, clear!” Tom yelled, pulling a canister from his belt. “Wolfen break, break, break!”
Wolfen leaped upwards, and Tom rolled his gift underneath him, releasing thousands of small globes of a slick lubricant. Wolfen, landing, spun around on all fours like a dog on a waxed floor. His dance partner had a lot worse problems, but with great skill kept her feet, although it revealed her position. With a not so graceful pounce, Wolfen landed on her chest, displaying his claws and teeth, and she chose the better part of valor and surrendered
“Wolfen, clear!”
Keeping at ground level, I zoomed up behind the brick, who was matching Renegade in a slug-fest that sounded like someone playing the 1812 Overture by dropping anvils. I used to hate this as a kid, but turnabout was fair play as I whispered, “Push” to Will, over our radio link. With me kneeling behind the brick, he fell, as Renegade gave him a shove.
To give him credit he tried to kick back up, but Cape and I had his feet tangled. Renegade jumped him and, after a few failed attempts to break free, he too surrendered.
“Renegade, clear” Will breathed out, winded from the fight.
I don't think any of us was surprised when Major Victory and Colonel Stone walked up with clipboards in hand. It hadn't been too hard to figure out who these masked mystery men were, but still, when Question and the rest of the Warders took off their disguises, it felt good to know we had more than held our own against an experienced group.
Medical help was there for Enigma, whom I had cold cocked, and for Alara the swordswoman, who was one of the Warder's auxiliaries. Conductress had a nasty bruise where a left cross from Lady Diamond had put her down for the count. Wraith, the invisible martial artist and Wolfen both needed help escaping and cleaning up from Streeter’s ultra-slick lubricant.
I did feel maybe a little guilty, at how hard we'd put them down, but the three silver blobs on Mark's bulletproof vest over where Wolfen's heart would have been, not to mention my still ringing ears, didn't make me lose any sleep over it. They wanted us to believe this was real and lethal? Well that's what they got.
The Major and Anza used their special skills to heal them, but I was beginning to understand what Colonel Stone was talking about now regarding ability and skills. Back home in the Whatever-Men 2 movie, a skilled mutant with teleportation powers had fought his way into the Whitehouse and could've killed the President.
Most comicbooks have the superheroes mostly just whaling on each other one of them drops. Even their teams, such as the Revengers or the Honor League, that did have training together were more like professional wrestling tag team than the very tight teamwork and trust of a special operations team.
From my military intelligence days, I knew Special Operation troops were seen as strategic resources. It is not easy or cheap to find someone capable, and train them. The trainers themselves need support and housing. The trainee has to have equipment and even more support. Everything from ranges and locations that can guarantee privacy, to mock-ups for aircraft, banks, embassies and other high threat targets
Colonel Stone had suggested that the nations that could, did have Meta-human military teams despite of agreements saying otherwise. Not only that, but here, they were regarded as the same as nuclear weapons. So, like I said, I was beginning to grok why!
Of course, in the debrief, as our teachers pointed out our mistakes and those of our sparring partners, the Warders asked why we made the choices we had. I got some criticism over hanging onto Question's arm, since he could've just used me as a club. This time he'd been surprised, but someone else in a similar position might not have been.
When asked what I thought our biggest mistake was, I said it was in deciding the nature of the threat. Thinking it was snipers, we had clustered behind Renegade as the only cover there in the open. Instead, their invisibles and teleporter had ambushed us in a nice tight group. Question had picked me as being the one most likely to do the most damage to everyone else, that he could pick up and throw. Fortunately this bowling ball had stuck to his fingers, but he’d had an opportunity to take out half our team all at once.
The Warders were interested in our communications method of calling our foes. Switching adversaries wasn't new to them, but using it the way we did, was. Morgan, giving our teachers a glance to make sure she wasn't breaking a taboo, explained that each Warder must have had a plan, deciding who they were going to attack. We had deliberately foiled that.
What Morgan didn't tell them was, we had a simple matrix deciding who was best against each threat, so we wouldn’t trip each other up. Bricks are one of my choices, but I changed, not because I couldn't deal with Question, but to bring ruin to their plans. Frankly I'm just as glad, because he is one tough mother!
Then those Sweet Old Bobs dropped their bomb! We were finished! Graduation YAY!!!
Major Victory solemnly awarded each of us, as we stood at attention, with a small silver pin with the Greek symbol of omega upon it. No diplomas, black gowns with funny shaped hats, just the symbol of his old commando unit and a handshake. He told us we still would be training, but now the mission would take precedence over the education.
We went off to shower and change for the party he'd promised us. Out of nowhere, the amazing Mr. Chang struck again. He had kept the preparations from us and, while we were fighting and receiving our omega pins, the wraps had come off. Under the cover of a Christmas ball, the Major, using his alias as Mr. Roland, had invited many of the shakers and movers of New Riverside to his Mansion.
Anza, of course, was thrilled from the top of her beautiful hair down to her lovely toenails! I swear that girl loves to dress to the nines! The problem, was that Cape was all too fond of dressing its favorite doll, me, in the same kinda ways! Admiring myself in the mirror is one thing, but walking around like that for hours is something else entirely.
Part of our cover was that we were the personal assistants to Mr. Roland. Very personal, if you know what I mean. So we were fixed up as a matched set, with our gowns to accent her dusky beauty, while Cape highlighted my paleness even more than usual. I swear, Cape enjoys this too much, as it covered up my few freckles and lightened my hair to more blond than strawberry. My winter, to her summer so to speak.
Going downstairs we got Mark real good! He was grumbling, “How is this a reward since I had to work?” His cover, along with Tom's, was providing security for Mr. Roland, so he had trouble seeing just how this party was a good thing.
Coming up behind him, Anza whispered in his ear, “The reward for a job well done is just another dirty job.”
When he turned around to make another complaint, he got his first look at our attire for the evening. To his credit, he didn't fall all the way down the stairs, but the expression on his face was almost worth all the ogling he'd done the last few weeks.
While he was hanging on the banister trying to stand, “See something you like?” Anza asked, passing him with his mouth open.
I stopped beside him, “You’d better get that repaired,” flicking a painted nail at his torn tux while arching a brow.
Cheating outrageously, we used our mental bond to sync our slinky walk down the stairs, leaving Mark speechless. As soon as we entered the next room we broke into giggles! Lin, one of Mr. Chang's many granddaughters and Will's forlorn romantic crush, had gotten the whole thing on her camera phone. I promised her and Anza I would get some of the footage framed. ‘I am woman, watch me get revenge!’
It hadn't go unnoticed by either one of us, that Mark and Tom had to work tonight. Okay, the real security was being done by one of Mr. Chang's many grandsons, no doubt by one of those Ninja types we‘d spared with so often. Okay, I bet someone is asking, ‘if Mr. Chang is Chinese why all the Ninjas, since they are a Japanese institution?’ I had asked him that very question one day after a spirited ambush by his black suited relatives, coming out from behind every bush and tree. His response was that if Ninjas wanted to be a secret clan of deadly assassins they needed to work harder. Looking me in the eye, Mr. Chang asked me, “What do you call secret deadly Chinese assassins?”
I answered, “I don't know.”
With a serene smile he replied, “Exactly so.” and walked away.
How could you argue with such logic?
Mr. Chang, as our instructor for all things involving high society and protocol, met all of us in the front room that had become a ballroom, festooned in Christmas decorations. All of us had been taken by surprise by this Winter Ball. There was a lesson here, of course, that our instructor Mr. Chang made sure we learned. He pointed out the things we’d missed and should've paid attention to, and why it was important.
If we were part of any organization, we would be depending upon our support people. Initiative on their part was a valued quality, but it was we who would be ultimately held responsible. There were many reasons why they would want to keep things from us, most of them bad. Not all, mind you, because more than one surprise party had been spoiled by suspicious bosses. Corruption, profiteering and infiltrators were all possible dangers.
Then he moved to brief us about our parts at the party tonight. He covered everything from security precautions, to what if the worst happened, as well as who to pay special attention to. The Warders would be attending, along with the cream of New Riverside’s society, including the Mayor. Also among our guests were the Colonel's suspects for framing us, a list he'd been able to narrow down to just five.
Then there was the ULTIMATE supersuit squad, who would be making an appearance, and just to keep things lively there was the Big Boss list that led the list of possible suspects as the Syndicate's leader.
We at least had a list, but didn't have a lot of confidence in it. There wasn't enough information to give enough parameters. For that matter, one of the reasons for this party, besides supposedly being a graduation party for us, was to help deflect ULTIMATE and the Syndicate’s suspicions of Mr. Roland’s activities. Inviting everyone who was anyone, to see just what he'd done in the old quarry would make him seem just another rich eccentric.
Mr. Chang expected folks to poke around. Heck, he was even going to encourage it. I wished them luck finding anything, since Mr. Chang had built this place from the ground up, using decades of knowledge about keeping things hidden. Even our own rooms had secret compartments to hide stuff that didn't fit our covers. Let me tell you, it is embarrassing to have to ask one the staff how to find that darn secret latch for the second or third time.
For our assignments, Anza and I were to be eye candy and hang on Mr. Roland's arm for the evening. Of course having a telepath and a empath whispering secrets into the bosses ear was a useful perk. Even though our days had been filled with studying a book in one hand while fighting off everything from sword wielding and assault rifle armed assassins with the other, we'd been introduced to the social arts as well.
I was worried that with that damning video of me, all this would not help throw off suspicions, but just the opposite. After all just how many 5'4” mutant, blond, bombshells are there running around? That wasn't as much an issue as I'd thought because, to my surprise, I did have a record with ULTIMATE as a registered meta after all.
According to the Siegel and Schuster Scale they used, I was an Alpha Class Meta which meant I was as physically fit, healthy and as intelligent as the top 1% of the population. Hah!, I’d always known the good looking, all too perfect, honor roll jocks and cheerleaders couldn’t really be human!
My strength and agility were rated at Beta, indicating I had slightly enhanced strength and agility, placing me at the top of human potential. On their rating scale, Gamma was for mental and physical abilities above normal humans, while Epsilon was for those significantly above those human maximums. The last category was Omega, whose indicated abilities were difficult to measure or impossible to determine with any confidence.
Of course my file was nowhere near my reality, not to mention the complete fiction of my being a high school dropout and drug user. Anza's record was also a fantasy, but Mr. Chang pointed out that a wealthy man like Mr. Roland would use someone like the two of us for body guards as well as status symbols. Even low category mutants tended to be very attractive, excepting those whose mutation warped them into such bizarre forms that they sometimes didn’t even survive the experience of changing.
Morgan, who had come clean about his dual nature, was back in male mode as a spokesman for Mr. Roland and would be mingling during the party. Mark and Tom you already know about, but Will would be spending time with our movers and shakers drivers and the rest of the hired help.
By the time our guests started arriving I had worked myself up pretty good. I'd always been a wallflower at best, and a nerdy geek with my nose buried in a book at the worst. Anza however, had always dreamed of the being the girl at the prom, and she wasn't going to let me ruin the closest thing she'd ever had to one. I promised her I would behave and try to have fun, but this was way outside my comfort zone!
After awhile I calmed down, being too busy to freak out much. My control of my empathy powers was much better and, looking over the crowd, it was interesting to see their emotions interact with each other. It was clear who liked whom and who didn't. Those who were here to snoop were easy to pick out, and I passed this to Mr. Chang so he could assign a 'handler' to the wanna be spies.
When the ULTIMATE Reaction Team One made their entrance we gave them a proper greeting. Number One was the leader and she was dressed in her usual gold and silver powered armor.
Number Two was a well muscled man attired in an ULTIMATE dress uniform modified to allow more flexibility and make allowances for his array of martial arts weapons.
The next member was an almost painfully slim young man similarly dressed. Number Three was bald by choice, which made him stand out even more. His listed powers were creating and directing high frequency sound waves. However there was a note in the records we had access to, that thought he could control all vibratory rates for a host of things, not just sound.
Number Four’s Asian features belied her pale complexion and metallic golden hair. She had total control of her own density and volume, giving her the ability to grow, shrink, become denser, or as vaporous as a cloud. She was the one member of this team it was known that had been a criminal who had switched sides. That was because her weird physiology required her to ingest gold to remain healthy. Yep, that golden hair really was gold. It was an open secret that she was ’sheared’ regularly by ULTIMATE to make up for the cost of her upkeep. You would think they would let her wear something other than that unbecoming uniform, considering the other indignities.
Their brick was Number Five. I’ll bet you he’s heard that old joke about Number Five is alive more times than he wants to! He was rated in the Epsilon scale for strength meaning he was damn strong. Having the almost expected body builder look, the only thing that made him stand out was the dreadlock-like hair that worked as radiator vanes. This dude put out a lot of heat and some thought he might even have a sort of living nuclear reactor. Being x-ray proof and next to impossible to take samples from, it was anyone’s guess if it was true. Oh yeah, he was also dressed in one of those blue uniforms.
Noticed the drab and unimaginative names and uniforms, did you? The bureaucrats managing ULTIMATE did everything they could to dehumanize their so called Reaction Teams, except for a few like Number One, whose powers were dependent upon something that couldn't be made to fit into their cookie cutter mold.
From our studies we'd learned that Number One had fought quite the battle to resist having her powered armor painted in ULTIMATE blue. In a fit of anger she had given them spray guns and told them to have at it. A product of her own genius, the armor ignored the hi-tech bonding process. The pigments had run off of it onto the floor, leaving the gleaming suit untouched. With more than a little grumbling they shut up, but they used her Team for the nasty little jobs they expected to backfire on her.
Hearing that, I bet you're wondering why anyone in their right mind would even want to be a part of such a red taped bound anally retentive organization, right? You would be right! Nearly every one of them had either been drafted by their governments or captured by ULTIMATE and given an offer they couldn't refuse. Join or be an inmate of Darkside Base, the nastiest prison since Alcatraz and Devil's Island, on you guessed it, the dark side of the Moon!
If that wasn't enough, rumors abound of cranium bombs and other implants to make sure their recruits toe the party line. Nope, I'm not sorry at all to have dodged the bullet with ULTIMATE, but I do feel a bit sorry for these folks, trapped as they are. Only a bit, mind you, for while most of them were railroaded into this, some of them were genuine criminals who’d made a calculated decision not to end up exiled in the most unforgiving place their jailers could find to put them.
With all that said, they were on their best behavior and politely mingled with the New Riverside Warders. They were carefully watched by their 'handlers,' but the ones I was watching were the ones that Colonel's Stone's research had singled out for being our suspected mole.
Major Victory, as Mr. Roland, had carefully reduced his 'glow' for tonight events. Otherwise, with being so close to him all night we really would have given everybody something to see. He decided to bring everything up a notch by having the band play something other than Christmas tunes. Dancing with both of us, he reinforced his eccentric reputation in the eyes of his guests. The alarming thing here, was that I didn't have the slightest clue how to dance whatever it was we were dancing!
Anza was the wild one who loved to dance, and she'd even talked me into going out a time or two. Besides, Mr. Chang required us to know one or two dances. So I can't claim I can't dance at all. I'm just really self-conscious about it. Anza came to my rescue by showing me the steps mentally, and relied on my reflexes to fake the rest. That did the trick, along with learning how to better access Mystery the character's skills, because while I can't dance, the character I had created most certainly could.
From the applause, I gathered we did very well. Be still my shaking knees! If they only knew. If that wasn't enough, my empathy showed a definite rise in the lust meter. Our dance broke the ice, giving us the opportunity to dance with some of the other guests, much to the dismay of their dates or significant others. I can't say it was unpleasant, but I would much rather been dancing with a certain raven haired lass! Alas duty called, and the room was abound in such interesting guests.
I was surprised to find that I was almost enjoying the experience. Anza, of course, had long ago pushed me onto the dance floor, and I had danced with the guys during our ballroom lessons. My first time on the floor with someone I didn’t know, wasn’t as bad as I had feared. Black Hawk of the Warders, and Number Five of ULTIMATE, insisted on sharing dances with me. They were gentlemen, and I began to see why Anza had fantasies about being the belle of the ball. This was not so for all my dance partners. One of them tried to get a little too familiar, but I was able to discourage him without breaking anything. I didn’t forget why we were there in the first place, and made an effort to entice those on any of our lists onto the floor.
Speaking of which, one of those almost tempted me to break cover. One of our 'guests of interest' was a Mr. Joseph Hyperion. He was a playboy who had arrived with pop singing star Nancy Nitro. Mr. Hyperion owned a Greek based merchant shipping company with a small fleet of ships specialized in rapid transport of luxury items. The vessels being faster, but smaller, could take advantage of New Riversides port facilities with its faster off load times than the bigger ports at NYC or others.
That put him in a good position to be a suspect, and the way he was grabbing my lover's posterior was putting him in a good position to be a murder victim! I was dancing with a Colonel Brown, another of our suspects when I spied that Greek being a little too friendly with my lover. While I was getting mad, I couldn't help but notice his date. Nancy Nitro's reaction seemed a little strange to me. For someone who had such a reputation as a party animal and a Prima-Donna, she was behaving rather sedately.
I was expecting her to be spoiled and temperamental with her date feeling up one of the hired help. Instead, she seemed almost oblivious to what was happening. That could be because of too much champagne and wine, but it did seem odd. At the time though, I was more concerned about the Jerk With The Roving Hands
Cape began giving me the old, “I've got a bad feeling about this,” vibe. I was really worried, wondering why Anza hadn't stopped Mr. Greek shipping tycoon from feeling her up. Sure, she is a lot more comfortable with the 'girl thing' than I, and we were supposed to be keeping our ears open for clues but this? She was strangely unresponsive over our bond, and I admit I was ready to try something perhaps a little foolish. Then suddenly out of nowhere, there was Mr. Roland.
You would think that after being in nearly constant contact with him I would be used to the way he moved so damn quietly and smoothly. It was if he had just materialized out of nowhere. Sometimes I didn't know what intimated me the most, him being acknowledged as one of the most powerful supersuits on the planet, or the close to 80 years of martial arts training he had under his belt. Maybe the length of time he'd been studying didn't matter, but part of me suspected that more than a few of his amazing abilities came more from what he'd learned than what any mad scientist had done to him.
With a smile, he cut in, interrupting Mr. Hyperion's far too damn dirty dancing. My blood ran cold for an instant, because I saw the glance the two bull elephants exchanged. Mr. Roland, as I'd said before, was about 6'4”, but Joshua Hyperion was just as impressively built and was even taller by an inch or two. He might not have superpowers but he was a man who was used to getting what he wanted. Anyone interfering did so at their own risk and not something to undertake lightly.
I held my breath when I saw the nasty little smile he gave Mr. Roland, but he raised an eyebrow and passed Anza to him. He rejoined his date Miss Nitro, but I didn't miss his icy glare following them as they danced. Then very deliberately, his eyes met mine. I can't exactly tell you what I felt, but came to understand the fight or flee reflex all too well in the instant when my power did read him. Yuck!
Trying not to look like the jealous lover, I waited till the music stopped and nudged Anza towards the bathrooms. Normally I would expect my saucy lover to have been ready to remove a certain Greek's hand along with any other appendage that she felt was offensive. What do I get?
Anza, in a daze just waited her turn for the facilities and calmly repaired her makeup as if nothing happened!
Speaking to her silently using our bond/link, “Hey Anza! Are you alright? Was he trying to do something?”
Dazed and spacey, she responded, “Oh yeah, I'm fine. Trying something? Who?”
Letting a bit of my anger leak out, “You know, that Greek jerk who was probing your ass searching for your panty line? The one you were just dancing with just before Mr. Roland cut in? Hello?”
She shook her head, and sent back a confused, “He did?”
Of course at that point I was ready to go out and break some fingers, but between not wanting to leave my lover, who acted if she'd been slipped a 'Rope'. (That’s a dose of Rohypnol the date rape drug that causes memory loss.) I had a real good idea who was responsible, so as much as I might want to, Anza's safety came first.
Using my phone, I let Mr. Chang know what was up and that Anza needed help. In this age of cell phones and the amazing Indigo Tooth, the other ladies ignored us. Not that I had needed them to, for our dear fossil had already passed on the word. Acting with his typical efficiency, Mr. Chang made sure help arrived and we got her back to our rooms with no one being the wiser. She went to sleep as soon as she hit the pillow. That done, I was ready to work out my anger on a certain Greek who came bearing unwanted gifts, and I'm not talking Odysseus and the horse he rode in on, either!
Mr. Chang, sensing a problem, arrived in person and, despite myself, talked me out of doing something rash. After all, he reasoned, we'd been dancing for sometime and had accepted drinks from more than one overly hopeful male. Yes, Miss Nitro's behavior was a little odd, as she did have a reputation as something of a party animal. Mr. Hyperion had taken liberties, but there was no proof he was responsible for her condition.
After being sure I had calmed down, he sent me back out into the battle. I think I covered up my double take of seeing the woman I had just left unconscious in bed, hanging back on the arm of our dear Mr. Roland! Then I saw her body language was subtly different, and most of all, her emotions were displaying a rather profound enjoyment of her current circumstances. Oh, that is not even counting on the link/bond between Anza and I telling me this wasn’t my beloved.
Morgan?. My mind swam as I identified her. Mr. Roland's emotions were almost always hard for me to read very well. Still, I think I was receiving a definite pleasurable feeling. Morgan and the Major romantic? They had been spending a lot of time together, what with her being our team leader. I remember her saying something that in her crystalline form, his bio-energy field wasn't as noticeable. That made me realize that they didn't know! He was just the type to be attracted to her, just because he could be reasonably certain she wasn't being unduly influenced. She ... okay, I didn't know for sure why she would fall for him. Her being new at being female might be a factor, but I couldn’t rule out it being just because he was a very intelligent man. Morgan had seldom run across someone who was more so than herself.
Trying not to gape, and keeping my mouth closed, I joined them. This wasn't the time to dwell on yet another complication in our lives. Joining them, I really had no clue she had managed to gain so much control of her shape changing, although upon closer inspection, I could see the flaws. Her shape changing thing was only partially an actual change of form. The rest was a holographic image she was projecting from within herself. She had obviously been practicing.
Taking his arm, we followed his lead as to whom to observe. I read them with my empathy, while Morgan used her eyes. She could see far farther into the visible spectrum and could see raises in blood pressure from the temperature changes. All in all, she made an excellent lie detector.
Of particular interest were those on Colonel's Stone's mole list. Damning the circumstances that had put our telepath out of commission, I did the best I could with my empathy to gain some clue about which one of these pompous fools was the cause of our faces being plastered on wanted posters in post-offices all over the world. Yeah, I meant the pompous thing! They were all the type of self-righteous asses I hated working for when I was in the Army. Ambitious, and more concerned about covering their own rears than in doing what needed to be done.
That's not to say they were incompetent, because they were far from it, being drawn from the world’s most elite armed services. The problem was, ULTIMATE’s mission was the policing of Meta-human issues and threats. Since nearly all the meta-humans they had contact with were criminals, most of them saw all Metas as being cut from the same cloth. That didn’t count the ones that were just out right Humans Rulz advocates. You know, the old, “The only good mutant is a dead mutant.” type.
As much I loved our transformation into beautiful superpowered babes, being part of a politically inferior minority is not good. The good news is, most people do not have a beef with Metas and, for that matter, the majority of criminals are just average humans.
But it was just like the old sayings. “One ‘Oh Crap’ erases a whole lot of ‘Atta Boys” and “It just takes one bad apple to spoil the barrel.” One supervillian can cause one heck of a lot of trouble and, of course, gets all the media attention.
Since we had first met, Mr. Roland had proved he’d learned a lot more than just fighting and flying aircraft in his hundred or so years of being alive. The man was able to charm diamonds from coal. Putting that talent to work, he talked to each of our suspects, while Morgan and I looked beautiful and bored. That is, scanning the crap out of them looking for a slip-up on their parts.
Someone else might have missed it, but the last of our five possible moles stood out for me. I couldn’t say why at first, but something about him just seemed off to me. Lt. Colonel Benjamin Hostler was the senior of the three Strike Group commanders assigned to New Riverside, and had a good record, even not counting his driving ambition.
Colonel Stone had somehow gotten the records for all five of our possible traitors. I’d asked him how, but he told me, “Don’t ask.” Be that as it may, we had studied them very carefully. Comparing everything from the record to the flesh and blood man standing in front of me, it slowly came to me. It was the way he was standing. He’d been in harm’s way far more often than any sane man would dare, because of his ambition. Part of the price for that bravery was the purple hearts he’d earned and the pain that was their legacy.
I knew there were, simply put, some tough SOB’s out there who’ll look the Devil in the eye and spit in his face before giving him the pleasure of admitting any weakness. And some people have incredible tolerance to pain. Our Light Colonel’s record would suggest he was that kind of man.
The problem was, I didn’t think he was in any discomfort at all and that is not the same as bearing with it, or medicating it with painkillers. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became, because of the way he moved. After spending so much time surrounded by Mr. Chang’s dangerously talented, extended family, I’d gotten to see how spending a life time in the martial arts can affect how one does even the most commonplace chores. We’re talking about balance, flexibility, and situational awareness. That made me very aware of how people move. The way this man moved didn’t jibe with what we knew of his records and injuries.
I signaled the man on my arm that I’d picked up on something. Mr. Roland turned on the charm and spent some quiet time talking with the ULTIMATE officer. I’d like to say we tripped him up and confirmed it was him. No such luck. What it did do was move him up to the top of our list.
Thankfully the time came when the clock struck midnight, and all the guests had to depart or risk turning into pumpkins. Colonel Stone came out of his listening post where he’d observed and recorded the whole affair. The inevitable debriefing followed for us and the Warders. I made sure to bring up my suspicions about Mr. Hyperion. Most seemed to regard them as overreaction and just jealousy on my part. His actions, even if it was him, were unfortunate but not unexpected for a wealthy man thinking himself above the law.
I came to realize that the Major, while he was not in vocal support of my speculation, kept his opinions to himself. Taking that as my clue, I let the subject drop. Afterwards I checked on my drugged lover, who was still sleeping it off. It occurred to me, she was going to be sooo angry when she came to. Her first fancy dress event as a woman, and she gets drugged into unconsciousness and doesn’t remember a thing about it all? Giving her a goodnight kiss, I headed to the kitchen to pick up my plate of food for my ghost.
Sitting down in what had become my favorite chair in the conference room, I opened my book. I’d reached the chapter about the feint Admiral Nimitz planned to use to draw out the Japanese kamikaze pilots, using ships loaded with as many anti-aircraft guns as they could pack onboard them, covered by a massive cap of fighters from aircraft carriers and land based airfields from recently captured Okinawa. I was just getting into it when a knock sounded on the door.
Looking over at the secret entrance, I realized my ghost still hadn’t made her appearance. Well it was pretty late. Wondering who it was I said, “Come in.”
To my surprise, it was Question, “To what do I owe the pleasure at this time of night? I would’ve thought you would be on your way home.”
He nodded, but I saw him looking over at my offering, plainly curious as to what it was all about. Ignoring it, he got right to business.
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened tonight,” he spread his hands trying to express openness. “I’m not criticizing your choices or life style.”
Knowing I was going to be hearing something unpleasant, I crossed my arms. “Did I just hear a ‘but’?”
The big man in red and white sighed, “It’s never good to have a romantic relationship within a team in any profession where life and death is on the line. It causes lapses of judgment and can put other’s lives in danger. Tonight you were willing to break cover because one of the guests was acting out of line with the one you love, all because of your relationship. That could have endangered all we were trying to accomplish tonight.”
Staring right into the polished lenses of the mask hiding his eyes, “Yes, I was going to interfere, but break cover? No. My reactions would‘ve been quite in character and, while it would’ve made a scene, our cover would still be intact. After all it is already known to anyone who bothers to look, that I and she are lesbians. ” That still sounded really bizarre coming from my lips!
“Anza was in trouble. The rest of you seem to think she was just a victim of some guy with bad judgment, but have any of you thought about how hard it is to slip a telepath a Mickey? And not with just any drug but one that is known for causing memory loss?” Snorting, I shook my head “None of you are sufficiently paranoid in my book. I’m not even mentioning the pure chutzpa of apparently drugging a pop superstar as well. Even if I’m wrong about him being involved in our troubles here, he is a very dangerous lunatic“ I pointed out.
“A rich, powerful, dangerous, lunatic who could bring us unwanted attention. I’m not here to argue with you, but to make you aware of how your relationship can affect us all, not just the two of you,” he said.
“If you’re warning me to be careful, consider me warned. If you’re trying to suggest anything else you can go take that proverbial flying leap into a lake, a deep, icy, cold one,” I told him as evenly as I could.
Without a sound my ghost made her entrance when the secret door revealed itself. She looked better now since she’d been eating proper meals. Dressed in one of the jumpers I’d gotten for her, she still refused the sandals and was barefoot. It was a measure of the trust I had built between us that she had abandoned some of her usual caution. Unfortunately for us, it was at exactly the wrong time.
Instantly I felt Question’s surprise, alarm and anger. ‘Just what else could go wrong tonight?’ I wondered not really wanting to know.
She was frozen in fear and I knew she was just a hairsbreadth from fleeing.
Question stormed forward, “It’s a Vole clone!”
Cape and my empathy gave me no doubts at all that the big guy intended harm to my young friend. We sprang over him and, using a technique from one of my many teachers, I redirected him back the way he had come. I half expected him to go though the wall, but he spun around, dropping into a combat ready stance.
“What are you doing? That is a Vole clone! You don’t know how dangerous those things are! They were genetically designed as replacement bodies and decoys for Doctor Vole. The Damn things are vicious!,” he cursed.
I knew she was still behind me and hadn’t fled, which surprised and pleased me all at once. Carefully I took a step backward towards her, keeping myself between him and her.
“She is a scared child who been hiding here, and the only questionable thing I’ve seen her do is steal some food. This is a child, not a thing. I don’t know much about this Doctor Vole or these Vole clones, but if you try to hurt her, we’ll see just how much I’ve learned in the last month!”
That stopped him! “She?,” he said sounding oh so intelligent. “That’s not possible. All of them were exact clones. none were females,” he argued.
“Honey,” I asked her softy, “will you take my hand?”
I didn’t dared to take my eyes from Question. Fortunately I had Cape and my empathy to help me gage how far I could go with her.
A touch as light as a breath gripped my hand. I was going to brush the hair that obscured half her face away, but when she flinched, I stopped. ‘Okay time to move to plan ‘B.’ Just as soon as I figure out what exactly plan ‘B’ is.’ Cape extended itself protectively around my ‘ghost’s’ silhouette. That gave me an idea.
At least Question was hesitating, not so sure anymore that my friend was a threat, or maybe he was just confused.
“Honey, can you turn in a circle for us?” I asked her, feeling her tremble.
Unsurely, she nodded and turned in a slow circle for me, while holding my hand.
She was 12 maybe 13, but since she’d been eating better she was starting to fill out. Not an obvious figure, but she was definitely on her way. After her slow spin she pulled close to me.
“What’s your name, dear?” I asked her.
My ghost looked up at me, “Nurse used to call me Dee.”
I raised an eyebrow at Question who’d had all the wind taken from his sails. Recognizing that she was female confused the big guy even more, and gave me the opportunity to get him to agree to something he might not have, normally.
“She’ll stay with me for now until we know more. I don’t think she is going to hurt anyone. Is that okay with you, Dee?” I hugged the trembling child.
“Huh, huh,” she whispered.
He half raised a hand to object, but he still hadn’t figured out he’d been outmaneuvered yet as we walked by him on our way to the mansion.
Dee shivered and grasped my hand tightly as we stepped outside.
“Are you alright sugar?” I asked her.
A soft, barely heard voice, “I’ve never been outside before with so many other people around.”
“It’s alright dear. I’m here and I’ll make sure no one bothers you, OK?” I squeezed her hand.
My ghost just gave me a shallow nod and held on to me all the tighter.
As we walked, Cape made sure I was aware of the Warders, who had somehow been warned by Question, coming out to see us. They didn’t do or say anything, but they made their presence known.
All I know is, they made me as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof, and I was thinking I really should’ve called Mr. Chang or the guys for help. That was before I saw Will casually step out into the light from the shadows, along with Lin and a double handful of her family.
Thinking bad thoughts about Mexican standoffs, I walked into the mansion with my ghost. Seeing Mr. Chang and his grandson, the Doctor, as we entered, I breathed a sigh of relief. I should’ve known that very little happened around here that he didn’t know about.
“Miss Reed. I see your friendly spirit has decided to come into the light. Do you require the services of my nephew?” he asked, formal as always.
My bad, a nephew, not a grandson. There were a small town’s worth of his relatives living here with us now. I think at times they did their best to confuse us westerners. Okay I admit it. It was after midnight, my lover had been drugged by a power crazed Greek, I was rescuing an abused child from a group of Supersuits, and I was tired. Ok, I give, you got me!
“Dee, this is a doctor. Is it alright if he looks at you to make sure you’re all right?” I asked her, thinking that treating her as a person seems to be working so far.
I felt a spike of pure fear from her as I mentioned doctor, and immediately decided that, if Doctor Vole ever, ever gets out on parole and I’m around, he’ll be receiving a unhappy visit from me.
I thought she was going to start screaming, and Cape and I sent soothing feelings at her, trying to ease the poor darling’s panic.
“Shhh, dear, I asked if we could. Since you don’t want to, it’s alright. Dee it’s alright.” I told her, scared to hug her for fear she’d take even that as a threat.
“Anza is a nurse. Maybe she can check and see if you’re healthy tomorrow, alright? No doctors.”
Finally it seemed, I’d said something right.
“Nurse is going to see me tomorrow?” Dee said looking up at me with hope in her eye.
“My best friend in the whole world is A Nurse and she’ll won’t do anything you don’t want her to.” I looked into her single visible eye.
She burst into tears, hugging me in a death grip. Not knowing what to do, I held her, as whatever hurt worked it’s way out. Sniffling, and almost hiccupping from her crying, she buried her head in Cape’s folds, which gently wiped her face.
I suppose I should have seen it coming, but Cape, it seemed, had accepted another into the small group it regarded as family. Closing my eyes, I knew it was my own fault for not thinking ahead. Vaguely, I’d intended to coax my ghost out of her hiding place and find out where she belonged. If it was true that she was a clone of some sort, that meant she might not have a place to go to. More alarming was Mr. Goody, Goody Two Shoes, willing to wipe the floor with her because he thought she was a clone, whether she was a child or not. Opening my eyes, interesting times were still following us, yes siree.
Mr. Chang had already sent his nephew on his way, and Lin had taken his place. Seeing how the child seemed frightened of men, he’d taken a few steps back.
“Miss Reed and miss, I’ve had a roll-away bed taken to your rooms,” Mr. Chang said to us.
Still red faced from her cry, Dee was surprised she was being addressed, but remembering her manners, nodded, “Thank you.”
Lin helped me get her up the stairs to my rooms, although I noticed that the guys, despite being curious, kept their distance. I was wondering if I should call on Morgan, but it was late and she and the Major had departed together. The mind boggles as to why, but it wasn’t an emergency. All of us needed some sleep, and Dee most of all.
She was plainly curious about my rooms, but when Will thoughtfully brought up her forgotten plate of goodies from the party, she dug in with gusto. With her stomach full, she didn’t take long to fall to sleep, and I sat with her for a while.
I did have ulterior motives, for I suspected something was wrong with her. That was why I wanted her seen by a doctor. Brushing aside her hair, I flinched seeing much to my dismay I’d been correct. The right side of her face had looked a little distorted. That was because the left side was so scarred it had pulled the skin taut. It was an old wound, but obviously hadn’t received proper care. Maybe Anza’s doctor friend or Morgan could tell what had happened, but about all I could tell was it didn’t have that melted look you see with burns. Her left eye was missing, and the shrinking socket had contributed to the distortion of the, mostly untouched, right side.
Even Lin winced when she saw how bad it was. She usually carried herself as a battle tested veteran, and took things that would make most folks puke in stride. I’ve heard that Chinese culture, as a whole, is not kind to those to whom life had given deformities. Lin gave the lie to that stereotype with the compassion in her eyes. Right then I decided Will had found someone very special, and Mr. Chang had better get ready for the fight of his life. Will and Lin would get their chance, even if I had to give heaven and earth a little nudge here and there.
Softly, so as to not wake Dee, Lin spoke, “My cousin Doctor Lee might be able to help her, but she is afraid of him.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “I think it is because she was experimented on by this Doctor Vole. Anyone calling themselves a doctor is going frighten her half to death.”
Lin nodded sadly, “She has good reason, if he did this to her.”
Taking a deep breath before the plunge, I asked, “Lin just how are clones treated here? Question is about as big a Boy Scout as they come, but he wasn’t going to hesitate to attack her. Why? On my world we don’t have the technology yet, but even trying to clone humans is forbidden in most places.”
The attractive Chinese woman agreed with me, “Yes, we do have the ability, but most nations here forbid it as well. My grandfather suspected your ghost might be a survivor of Vole’s organization, but since you were handling the situation, he left it your hands. Vole was a handsome appearing child, but when his mutation was triggered, it warped his body. Even though it gifted him with greatly increased intelligence and the power to walk though the earth, he became obsessed with restoring himself to a normal appearance.
“To further this cause he conducted illegal experiments on others, as well as upon his own genetic material. The difference was, he used genes from any source that would fit his designs, including those from animals, and even plants. ULTIMATE has ruled in the past, because of dealing with these demented scientists, that their Chimera creations are not truly human at all, but golem-like creatures bred to be nothing more than attack dogs. Like with attack dogs, they were to be put down out of concern for the good of the public welfare.
“These Vole clones, as Question called them, were used to provide spare parts for injuries he suffered in his battles with agencies trying hunt him down, and since they were force grown with his own memories as decoys to protect his life, it was as the Warder said, for they were raised knowing the weak among them would be used for parts. They fought for all they were worth to overcome their fellows and for the chance to escape. Some fell to the original mutation and were used as decoys. Others died from whatever modifications Vole made to them while looking for the cure to his mutation’s body warping effects.
“It would seem that the simplest answer was the right one,” She said.
Picking up on what she meant, “You mean the disfigurement is sex linked with the “Y” chromosome?”
“Yes. I think Dee might be older than she looks. Likely, fourteen or older. That is past the time the original Vole changes manifested themselves, so it is a reasonable leap of logic to say he did find the cure he was looking for,” she said sadly.
Angrily I said, “Looks like he tried to kill the messenger. She doesn’t act like you say the other clones did, so she must’ve been more an experiment than the others. Poor little one. No wonder she was clinging to me. She must be half staved for attention.”
A little hesitant Lin looked at me, “You understand that a simple DNA test would reveal what she is and, with her scars, it will be very hard to find a home for her?”
“Yes, Lin I was already coming to the same conclusion.” I sighed again. If I kept this up I would start to sound like a steam engine. Huff, huff, huff, shhh.
“This is not a good time for this, but if I have to, I’ll look after her for as long as I can. We are about to step into the deep end with this Syndicate business, and if we are successful I don’t even know what world I’ll end up on. That’s not even taking into account that my better half may have plans other then being the 2nd mom to an abused, teenaged, gene engineered, mutant. ‘But Mom she followed me home.’” I joked, rubbing my tired eyes.
“Do you really think you’ll leave when this is over?,” she asked, obviously concerned about her possible future together with Will.
“I really don’t, know Lin. There are a lot of reasons for us to want to stay, but we never had any choice about coming here in the first place. All of us, even the ones I never expected to, are forging ties here. Staying will mean never seeing our families again. For some that is not a big problem, but for others it is. I just don’t know Lin, except it’s late and I’m going to sleep now. Goodnight.” I said as I walked her out, giving her a hug of thanks for her help, “Don’t worry about Will. I’m sure you two will work this out somehow.”
With a wan smile, she said, “Goodnight,” leaving me alone with my lover and a new responsibility. Snuggling into the covers I decided to let my worries wait until the morning and let my dreams carry me away.
On a neighboring hill, the soil churned and a serpent scaled head broke the surface. All night he’d been keeping tabs on Pretty Boy. He gets to go to a big party and what does ole Ripper gets to do? Dig around and keep a eye on the boss’s favorite.
He might complain but he wasn’t insane enough to flout the Boss’s orders, no matter what those shrinks might have said about him back at that prison masquerading as a hospital. He might be a schizophrenic mass murderer, but even he wasn’t crazy enough to double-cross the Boss, so he’d done what he’d been told to do.
What he’d discovered was that base under the quarry was still fully operational. Closed down and destroyed, his ass! Just tunneling close to it had almost set off some kind of defense system. Still having a fine sense of self-preservation, he’d veered off, giving it a wide berth.
That’d been a royal pain in the posterior but nothing he couldn’t handle. No, the worst part had been running across those campers. He’d wanted to rend and tear the little pretties so badly, however the Boss had told him quite firmly that tonight, he was to not touch so much as a hair on anyone’s head, or else. It’d been so very hard to slither away and leave them be. Ever since his accident and since he’d been twisted into his present, hideous form, the only real pleasure he’d had was ripping the pretty ones.
With a flick of his snake-like tongue, he scented the air one last time before burrowing back into the earth. Who would’ve guessed that Clint James, Doctor of herpetology would be spending his nights living as a reptile, rather than studying them?
Heroes of Justice: The story of Dee
Johnny shifted fitfully, only half asleep. He was ten, and tomorrow he had a big baseball game. His dad was always there for his Little League games, and no one needed to tell Johnny that his Dad was proud of him for following in his athletic footsteps. He was the star pitcher, and the team was depending on him to win the city championship.
Again Johnny shivered in his sleep. It just seemed wrong somehow. Half awake, he remembered always being happy of making his dad proud and how easy sports were for him. It all seemed wrong somehow. Part of him struggled to come awake, but he just couldn’t seem to. Just as bad, he couldn’t sink back into deeper sleep. He was just stuck here, somewhere in-between.
Then with a surge of blinding lights he was thrown forward. With terror in his chest he fought to breathe. He felt hands on him and they turned him over onto his stomach. With a sickening spasm he coughed up what seemed like endless streams of water from his lungs.
Was he downing? How had he fallen into the water, because the last he remembered was being safe in bed at home? Exhausted, finally the last of the water was gone, and with a great effort he took a lung full of wonderful air. Strangely it seemed to burn a little, but the pure relief of being able to breath again overcame everything else.
Opening his eyes, everything seemed out of focus, but he thought he was in a hospital or something. He felt the hands again moving him, poking and prodding like doctors always seem to do. Johnny had never been to one except for checkups, and they always said how healthy his Dad’s golden boy was.
He’d tried to talk but couldn’t. Did they have to be so rough, grunting as they almost threw him onto some kind of gurney, he guessed, because he felt himself moving a little while later.
What had happened? Where were his parents? Fear filled him again as his ordeal began to overwhelm him. He tried not to cry because his Dad always told him that was for girls, not for boys who were tough.
Johnny felt himself stop moving and heard a door shut. Weakly, he tried to sit up by using the handrails to help him, but it was just too much. Lying back down, the fear and exhaustion drove him into sleep.
Slowly coming awake he heard a voice, “Here, sit up.”
Struggling to open his eyes, he realized someone had grabbed his arm, pulling him upright.
“Hey, let go of me! What are you doing?,” Johnny demanded, half asleep.
“Here is clothing. Get dressed. Food will be coming soon. If you’re not dressed you won’t get fed. You understand that?” the voice demanded of him. Forcing himself to see, Johnny saw the owner was a woman who looked liked a nurse or something. She had brownish colored hair with red highlights, but must be kind of old, because she had some gray, too. Instead of white or the pastel colors he was accustomed to seeing on doctors and such, she was wearing a dark red smock.
“Where am I? Where are my Mom and Dad?” Johnny asked.
Ignoring his questions she pointed to a screen set into the wall, “That will answer your questions. Now get dressed or go hungry.”
“If you’re a nurse, how come you’re dressed in red?” he asked, pulling himself to the edge of the bed.
This time she turned to face him, and the look on her face scared him, “So all the blood stains won’t show.”
Not sorry to see her go, he shakily got up off the bed. Keeping one hand on it to keep from falling he wondered what had happened to him. Looking around he saw the walls were transparent, as if they were made of glass or plastic. He could see many other rooms with people moving around getting dressed, too. Not really paying attention to them, he picked up the underwear.
Hey, this was a pair of girl’s panties! He looked at the screen, thinking to complain, but he could see a robot or something delivering food just a few rooms down from his. Not wanting to miss eating, he picked up the plain looking exercise style shorts and pulled them on. Reaching down to ‘situate’ himself, he froze.
There wasn’t anything down there! In panic, he felt only flatness. Shocked, his knees failed him and he slid to the cold floor. Johnny was only half aware when her food was shoved into her room from the slot at the bottom of the door. Hours later, she was still clenched into a fetal ball when the scary woman returned.
“Oh for …” Barbara Kirsch swore as she stepped into the cubical for Subject 141. A quick look at the charts told the story. Damn, this one was a special. Every other batch or so, Doctor Vole tried something radically different. This one was a cross sexed clone, but the standard acclimation memory recording had still been used. From the clone’s point of view, it had gone to bed as a boy and woke up as a girl.
As much as she felt like hitting … well … her, with the shock prod, Barbara guessed the clone did have reason to freak out. It took a few tries but she got the subject dressed the rest of the way. She did struggle a little when Barbara added the underwear, but stopped after a while, making a rather sad hiccupping sound trying to keep from crying.
Barbara told herself over and over again that they were just lab specimens. She was being very well paid for her trouble. Barbara had been lucky to be able to find a job at all given her past history. She’d made a mistake, getting involved in an industrial espionage scam. That had ended up not only getting her fired, but blacklisted as well. The mistake had also cost her one of her closest friendships, as well as her marriage.
She not only needed this job, but she didn’t have any other choice now. Doctor Vole had only needed to make one example of someone who had betrayed him, for her to promise herself that no matter what, she would never, ever put herself in that situation.
Barbara ended up almost feeding the child. No, she told herself. Subject 141 is a specimen. Leaving the cubical she had a bad feeling that this one was going to be hard.
Johnny wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The only reliable method was counting how often the robots brought food. She had slowly gotten used to the idea of being a girl, but it wasn’t easy. All of her memories were of a boy. The woman she had taken to calling Nurse was teaching her some of what being a girl was like.
Nurse was still scary sometimes but not like she'd been at first. She was even nice sometimes.
Johnny was kept from the rest of the boys who were just like her, except they had stayed boys. Looking into the common room she was frightened at the violence they did to each other, fighting for the right to eat. At least she didn’t have to worry about getting fed, but it was like watching animals.
Johnny had seen Doctor Vole once and found it hard to believe that she or rather he would have grown up to look like that. The oversized head and eyes perched on that stunted, hunchbacked body were hideous. The worst part was those eyes that shone like nothing sane ever did. Somehow, she knew nothing but madness lay behind them.
Nurse had told her that she would get used being girl, because although her memories were Dr. Vole’s before his mutation had happened, her body, including her brains, were female. She still missed her parents, even if they were all just a dream. What truly scared her was that she might change into something misshapen with those awful eyes.
Looking into the common area, she’d seen some of the others as they began to change. Sometimes they hurt the other boys when they changed, and other times they simply died. Of course the robots removed them when the changes started, but the scariest part was that they were never seen again.
Johnny had gotten a mirror from Nurse and, saw that besides not having anything hanging, for a long time, she looked just like he had before. Now, since more time had passed, she could see differences. Her hips were wider and her chest was really sensitive. Nurse said this was because she was growing up, and told her more about being a woman.
Sometimes that thought made her cry. The memories of her Dad being so proud of Johnny being the star of the Little League Team were special to her. Despite being told all she remembered was a lie, knowing she wouldn’t be able to fulfill those dreams for her Dad’s approval, hurt. Other times it seemed like what was happening to her body just felt right.
An icy shiver passed though her, and fearfully she looked up and saw him staring at her from the other side of the door, Dr. Vole! Swallowing hard, and trying not to flinch, she tried to keep her face expressionless and not let her fear show. Feigning disinterest, she returned to what she had been doing before, but the terror she felt from those mad eyes looking at her wouldn’t go away. She knew this meant something bad, hugging herself alone in her cell.
Barbara had never felt such a combination of outright fury and fear in all her of her life. She did the best she could to comfort the girl with half her face bandaged. Even with the medication, it couldn’t give the child she held peace.
What in the hell had he been thinking, moving Subject 141 into the common room? There was a reason why she and the other attendants called it the Hell Hole. The specimens there were encouraged to fight for their very survival. Adequate food was sometimes withheld, forcing them to fight just to live.
Shuddering, Barbara knew just how fast a happy smiling child could become an animal, for she’d seen it happen too many times. The girl was younger than the other specimens and had immediately fallen into trouble. One of the older inmates had begun his metamorphoses and had unleashed his powers. Those powers let those with the Vole mutation, tunnel though rock and stone as fast as they could walk. Or, grimly she thought, remove half the face of a sweet natured child.
She couldn’t deny any longer that the true monsters here were herself and the others who had taken that lunatic’s money. At what point this girl had stolen her heart, even while Barbara had tried her best to harden it, she didn’t know. What she did know was unless something was done, Dee would die here.
Almost laughing hysterically, Barbara hated what those children had done, because of monsters like herself. Because the girl had been different from themselves, they’d named her Defective. They’d beaten her until she would answer to no other name.
Barbara knew she had ruined her own life with her arrogance and greed, but she had never hated herself more. Breaking the rules, she’d dragged the girl from that violent cesspit. When the girl would answer to no other name, Barbara called her Dee and that seemed to satisfy the child. She’d done her best to treat the wounds that had removed Dee’s eye, but what she needed was a fully equipped surgical team, and not a lab tech with a first aid kit.
So here they were, one poor abused girl, and a failed mercenary who’d found she had a heart after all. Barbara feared for both of them, but hoped to buy them some time by changing Dee’s status on the computer from specimen to trustee, a status reserved for those who had mutated into the same form as Doctor Vole. He called them trustees, but what they really were, was expendable decoys. There was a transition period for them and, using an override code she wasn’t supposed to have, Barbara had extended it into infinity.
This would, she hoped, hide her breaking of procedures since the computer ran almost everything down here. It would also keep Dee busy and out of sight, since her change of status would open the teaching and other programs for her. Hopefully, this would give Barbara some time to try and plan how to get them both out of here.
Leaning down to kiss the fitfully sleeping child’s forehead, she uttered a silent prayer for them both.
Dee huddled, scared by the sounds of fighting. Nurse had roused her from sleep and hidden her in a nook she’d dug when her powers had come. That hadn’t been nice either, but they’d both breathed easier when the only change they could see was that her remaining eye had become larger and more light sensitive. She been relieved that it wasn’t filled with that insane light she still saw in her nightmares.
After warning her to keep quiet and stay until Nurse came to get her, Dee quieted her mind, something she’d learned in the bad place. Some of the others could feel what you were thinking, and it was the only way to hide from them.
Explosions, gunfire, and screams sometimes got closer, and other times drifted farther away. What didn’t change, was that they seemed to last forever. She stayed as long as she could after they stopped but hunger and having to pee forced her out. Putting on a brave face even though she no longer believed it was a bad thing to cry, but right now wasn’t the time. Dee was horribly concerned about her only friend, Nurse, but if she went looking for her, Nurse wouldn’t know where to find her.
Dee didn’t know how much time had passed but others had come and taken away the bodies of the dead that had begun to smell. A little after that she’d felt the touch of someone looking for thoughts. Frightened, she’d hidden back in her nook and quieted her thoughts. Breathing a sigh of relief when that ordeal had ended, she carefully looked about. Everyone was gone!
Doctor Vole, the boys in the bad place, the attendants, and heartbreakingly, Nurse too. They were all gone! She’d cried for hours it seemed and didn’t know what to do. The robots were still here, even if not as many as there used to be. They still brought food, even if it didn’t taste very good. The computer was still teaching her how to speak other languages, as well as other subjects like Math and Science. Steeling herself, she settled into a routine of learning and looking around the huge place where she was.
Some of the places held bad memories, like the tube like things where she was born from, while others, like finding the door to the building outside, were exciting. It’d been so long since she been outside! Dee didn’t spend much time out in the daylight because it seemed so bright to her single eye. She started going out more at night, when she felt safer, and more comfortable.
Time passed and strangers came and went, but none were her friend, Nurse. The best part was, sometimes they left food! The robots still fed her but it was so bland no one could say it tasted good. Finding these bits was a treasure she looked forward to even as she feared discovery.
Then things changed when the others came. The computer would show her some of what went on outside. This time there was a helicopter, a couple of cars and even a motorcycle too. What made her mouth water was all the stuff they were unloading. The camping stuff she remembered from Johnny’s Club Scout days, so that meant they were planning on staying a while. That wasn’t good, but all that food!
She’d waited till she was sure they were all asleep and then opened the door to the outside. Carefully she searched for food that wouldn't be missed. ’There by the TV!’ She thought triumphantly, ’Potato chips!’
Taking only just enough that none would be missed, she carefully measured out her treats. By the door was a cooler full of ice cold drinks, and she used her ragged sleeve to wipe the icy drink free of water as to not leave a trail of droplets back to her sanctuary. Happily she watched the secret door whisper shut before indulging in her feast, not knowing this was only the beginning of a new life.
Heroes of Justice: ‘Tis the season!
Waking up the next morning, I was all set for the fight of my life. Figuring on the same kind of trouble revealing Anza’s and my relationship had caused, I began trying to prepare myself for the coming storm.
In some ways what really did happen freaked me out even worse. It can be summed up by the Major’s reaction. “I understand your ghost from Doctor Vole’s old headquarters came out into the open last night after the party?” he asked me.
“Yes, she did. I’d notice small bits of food going missing, so I started making up plates of stuff, figuring it was better to make friends than build problems by setting a trap,” I replied.
“Am I correct that she is young and rather shy?” he continued while reading a report.
“She appears to be between 12 and 14 at a guess and, yes, she is very shy. She has disfiguring facial scars and other signs of abuse.” I replied, wondering just how much trouble I was in.
“Do you think any of us, or our investigation into the Syndicate’s operations, are in danger from her?” he inquired, as he filled out some paperwork.
“No, I don’t think so. She does seem to have some meta powers because she did avoid the Warders telepath and Anza’s attention. I can read her emotions only upon touch and, right now, she needs attention and love. No possible threats that I can see.” I was thinking, ‘well here it comes.’
“Good. I’ve revised our schedule so you can spend some time getting her settled and seeing to her care. Besides, Christmas is just a few days away and it won’t cause that much trouble. The rest of the team will be shadowing the Warders, since your analysis and Colonel Stone’s both agree they might be in more risk for the time being. I understand he has another project he wants you to assist him with, so this should work out nicely. ” He picked another folder and began reading.
“That’s it, no second degree, or demands I get rid of her?” I asked, astonished.
Looking me in the eye the Major told me, “Mystery you are a very able empath. I trust your abilities and judgment. You wouldn’t be the person you are if you could forget about someone who needs you so badly. Yes, it is inconvenient, but that is all a part of life. Being true to yourself gives you strength despite whatever short term problems this may cause. Anything else?” he asked me.
“No,” I mumbled in shock, as I passed another of Mr. Chang’s relatives. This one was taking all of the Major’s paperwork and transferring it all back into the computer. He might be able to whip a herd of tyrannosaurs into steaks before breakfast, but a computer? Not so much!
Anza was more pissed about being drugged, than at my springing Dee on her. I really felt sorry for whoever was responsible. My lover cried a few tears and then got this glint in her eye that promised, she would find out who had stolen her special night from her, and when she did, there would be some serious payback coming to them.
After calming her down, for I didn’t want her scaring Dee, I introduced the two of them. I think she was even madder about the way the child been treated than I was, and that is saying something. Because of Dee's fears, we had to arrange a camera so Doctor Lee could examine her remotely, with Anza acting as his hands.
She was still hypersensitive about us examining her disfigurement, but she was willing to give Anza privileges the rest of us lacked. That came about after Anza assured Dee “Honest Injun” that she was a real life, honest to goodness, Nurse. Anza just smiled and told her she wished all her patients were as good as her. That coaxed a smile from Dee and, despite how badly she’d been handled in the past, it lit up the room.
The good news was, besides her long healed injury and some mild malnutrition, she was very healthy. The bad news was, the scarring was as severe as it looked. Doctor Lee thought he might be able to relieve some of the worst effects with assistance from Anza’ telekinesis and the Major’s healing ability. For the time being, he prescribed a salve to help soften the scar tissue.
The other news was just as Lin had suspected. Dee’s mutation had already done whatever it was going to do, so she was free of the threat of more disfigurement. Her one good eye was a dark brown and was very large and light sensitive.
Dr. Lee tentatively put Dee on the Siegel and Schuster Scale as an Alpha class mutant with Meta abilities. No one had really tried to apply that rating scheme to us, although it was used on our fake records. The Major looked at things from a more practical viewpoint, which pretty much ignored the rating scale. After being run half to death by the dear Major, we all knew pretty much exactly what each of us was capable of anyway.
While I was helping Dee settle, I missed all the excitement when the Syndicate hit Claremont Mall on Christmas Eve. It wasn’t as huge a haul they could’ve made if they’d robbed it on the biggest shopping day of the year, the day after Thanksgiving. What it did do was make for a very sensational story. Oh sure, the money they did get wasn’t any chump change, but what they were really after was another chance at taking out the Warders.
The rest of our gang confused things for them by showing up supersuited as the Warders! Afterwards, the Warders claimed confusion, too, as to who would be impersonating them, to ULTIMATE.
You really have to give it to Colonel Stone. He’s one sneaky SOB. He lives by the motto “Confusion to your enemies.” Both he and I thought the Syndicate wanted to fade after they had taken control of New Riverside Meta-criminal elements. The best way to do that was to bring even more attention to themselves, and then stage a gory, dramatic, falsified death for each of them. Of course, to make sure, anyone who’d become familiar with their operating methods would need to go away. That meant the Warders and the New Riverside law enforcement agencies. No, we didn't think the Syndicate was going after the entire departments, just the detectives who were most familiar with the cases. So we were covering those we thought were in the most danger.
That is where Colonel Stone's special project came in. You see, he'd read about my transformation of Cazadora's clothing to the bondage-like wear Cape had bound her with. He wanted to know if Cape and I could make other types of clothing or things, such as disguises. The Changs had several talented experts knowledgeable about changing one's appearance, but more for the purposes of sneaking in and out of places they weren't supposed to be, if you know what I mean. He needed something different.
I explained about Cape, my symbiont, and how it worked. It was a lot of work for both us, with Cape doing the actual labor, but with me providing the design and the energy. Changing Cazadora's clothes had been like a workout all in itself, compressed into just a minute or two.
Colonel Stone explained he needed something like out of “Operation: Impossible.” You know, that show with the peel off masks, and things that were never what you thought they were. He wanted disguises good enough to confuse things in combat and he didn't expect them to pass a close inspection. That gave me pause, so I told him I would have to do some experimenting and get back to him about it. I had done some thinking about creating supersuits, but that was a secret, shhh, don't tell anyone! However that was still different than trying to disguise someone.
I talked to Anza and Morgan, but then I realized that the person who knew the most about fashion and clothing wasn't a person at all, Cape! It didn't take long to figure out this was another thing it hadn't done before and didn't know anything about. As always, Cape was eager to please, I just had to show it how.
I decided the best way to educate Cape was to pick everyone's brains on the subject. Anza had a good fashion sense and knew how to make a male appear more feminine, using appliances and other such. Morgan, with her back stage college theater background, knew something about rough and ready costume changes. Of course I also consulted with the Changs, who were a wealth of practical experience and ideas.
Morgan also had another suggestion that I admit I didn't care for, Tom. You see, he being a Batguy-like character, he was also a master of disguise. He had been much less abusive of late and, at times, even nice, but friend or not, I wasn't anxious to open up that can of worms.
To my surprise he accepted the challenge, and together we laid out some parameters. We had to match the person with the best skills to imitate a specific Warder. For example: Will, the big strongman, was a natural to pose as The Question, just as Anza could use her mental powers to simulate Wraith's invisibility. The costumes had to be flexible, but also had to offer protection, because they were being used in combat. That ruled out most body shaping garments because of the way they constrained the wearer.
We looked into stuff like Holographic projectors and other high tech alternatives, but strangely enough, we got our answer from paint. While searching for ideas, I caught Tom being naughty and looking at some of photos of nude models. The thing was, these models were wearing cleverly applied paint to give themselves the illusion of wearing clothes.
That reminded me of something I'd seen on the beach some years back, of a girl wearing a t-shirt that had a bikini attired torso printed upon it. Cape, running with the idea, flashed up an image of something similar, but in a kind of bas-relief, or more like a high relief, giving a more 3D effect.
With Tom's help we came up with a bodysuit design that worked fairly well. Then he surprised me so much so I had to sit down. Tom volunteered to be costumed as Alara the Swordswoman!
He pointed out how he was the only one of us who could even come close to convincingly using a scimitar. If we could get it to work on him, the others would be easy. Thinking of the TG bodysuit stories from back home, Cape and I made a body-stocking-like garment made of Kevlar like-fibers, which were even stronger, given Cape's special manufacturing process. It had light weight projections giving the illusion of breasts, and a generally more feminine form. Of course, a goodly portion of Tom's masculine form extended beyond Alara's slimmer outline, like with that printed Bikini cover-up t-shirt.
Thanking Gawd Alara's supersuit had a short cape, we used flat, non-reflecting materials the same color as her cape and some other tweaking of colors and materials so Tom‘s excess bulk blended into the background of the cape. If I do say so myself, it didn't come out badly at all. Cape had done a wonderful job on the mask and headpiece. It had even contrived to give the breasts a little bounce. All in all it was almost a work of art, but you had to remember that the entire suit was custom made for Tom, starting at the nano-level. It was so good, I had to make sure Cape hadn't made a real symbiotic bodysuit as some kind of revenge for past transgressions. Cape hadn't, but I got the feeling it'd been tempted!
Like with all illusions, if you start looking for flaws you will find them, but it was good enough to fool and confuse quite a number of the gang and staff. Not bad, not bad at all!
The seriousness of all this didn’t keep Anza from the giggles, seeing Tom disguised as Alara the swordswoman for the first time! With her mental powers she immediately saw who he really was. I’m glad I had a camera ready. The look on her face will make a nice addition to my photo album!
Colonel Stone was pleased and gave us the go ahead for us to work up the other's suits. Will ended up as Question and Morgan as Conductress. Anza was dressed as Wraith, while we had a special treat for Mark.
With his character's security background he had proven to be skillful with firearms and martial arts. His face was a study when we revealed his white cloaked Enigma costume, explaining he was the closest we had to someone able to fake her firearms based martial arts, Juu Kun Do, the Way of the Gun.
No matter what Tom had said about his Alara costume being the hardest to make, Mark's was more of a challenge. He was almost a foot taller, and twice as wide as she! What we did do with the help of her cloak was make look like her big sister. Cape did a cute trick with the cloak, using a holographic effect to help confuse the eye as to distance. It worked so well, the real Enigma wanted one!
The real test was how well they worked when put into action, even though we understood that this would only be effective once. The rather confused Enforcers, seeing twice as many heroes show up as expected, faded away, which suited everyone just fine, given the number of shoppers at the Mall. Tom even managed to nail a tracer to one of them, but lost the signal after a few miles. Slow on the uptake, these baddies weren’t.
Everyone ribbed Tom and Mark about their cross-dressing supersuits, although for some reason it didn’t seem to bug them. As a matter of fact they kidded and teased each other nearly the entire time. I was kinda worried about Mark because, in this guise, he couldn’t wolf out without giving the show away, and so was a bit vulnerable. Well, as much as anyone who just completed the Major’s superduper school of mayhem. In fact, they had all done well without me.
No one had to say that, although not a single bad guy had been caught and they had gotten away with the loot, all counted it a victory. Besides one security guard who had gotten smacked around by Big Red, my old sparing partner, no one else had been hurt. It'd been a lot of work getting those costumes ready, but seeing how it had kept a major disaster from erupting on Christmas Eve, that was more than good enough, Salute!
During this time, of course, Dee followed me around like a puppy, but expecting that, I joined in the Chang’s family’s holiday preparations when I could. Ok, I will answer that question I can hear you asking. Are they primarily Buddhist or Christian? Christian, but still respectful of the traditions of their ancestors to include the Buddhists. So we baked, decorated sugar cookies and had to, of course, sample the works of our labors to insure quality. Dee was shy about joining in, but the gleam of happiness in her single eye seemed to make up for her having only one.
The rest of the gang had quickly came to think of her as our mascot, and even Tom didn’t seem to have problems with her. Us yes, her no. He’d gotten very close to this girl he was seeing, and that had helped immensely with mellowing him out. What I had a problem with was, when he opened his big mouth and jokingly called Dee our sidekick! The second he said it I saw her eye light up, and I knew we had trouble. I could’ve kicked his butt all over our humble hole for that one! Sure enough, she asked for her own costume and mask.
“Santa, do you take last minute requests?”
As part of their fade-away from the mall, the gang had pretended to be shoppers. On the way home they’d picked up a few things for Dee, since we’d done most of our shopping for each other weeks before in NYC. Ha, a few things! When you’ve got five neophyte heroes riding high on a win, just a few items added up to a lot. Just like any group of guys shopping for a teenager, they didn’t have a clue on what to get her. There were everything from dolls to portable TV’s.
I would like to say the girls, Morgan and Anza, behaved better, but no such luck. They went clothes crazy, and what outfit would be complete without the accessories? Shoes, jewelry, purses, belts, and even hats made it onto their shopping lists. Of course neither group could forget the family Chang, so when they did get back to our Halfling hole, everyone’s vehicles were overloaded with gifts.
Oh Halfling Hole? Well that’s my fault, I have to admit. Halfling is a name used for small fantasy creatures that had furry feet and lived in rustic villages, made popular by that English writer. You can’t use the same word he did because of that pesky copyright thingie. So, since I kept referring to our base and home as the Hole, it became known as Halflington. I know I should be drawn and quartered, but I am truly contrite because I swear I’m not responsible for the rest of it.
There’s more? Yep, I’m afraid so, because you see, we’d been in regular contact with Mike, and he asked what was the name of our Supersuit team. I don’t know who, but I think it was Will, who told him about us living in Halfling Holes and how comfortable it was, of course making fun of us living in a great big huge mansion at the bottom of an enormous pit. So, with typical gamer humor, or lack thereof, we became the Halfling or ‘Orbbit Chevaliers. Please, no Hong Kong or Buckie Bonsai jokes! Just as well for my piece of mind almost no one got it.
Now of course, all that stuff that hadn’t gotten wrapped in the stores had to be taken care of, Wrapping Party! Taking all of our booty to the conference room, amid the Christmas cookies, eggnog and other holiday treats, we got down to the business of enjoying the holiday.
The Warders had dropped by to be debriefed by the Colonel, so had thoughtfully brought Mike with them. While they and my fellow more or less recently christened, Chevaliers were giving their reports, Mike, frustrated at not being able to find a copy of the Christmas movie “It’s a Fantastic Life” with Stewart James, somehow magicked up his own. When he put it up on the big screen in the conference room it was almost like back home with the holiday atmosphere.
No one noticed when the Major came in and started watching. It was noisy with the laughing and good cheer. Dee had somehow convinced a couple of the hidden base’s robots to come out and help with the wrapping. After some four years of having them for her only companions, she was real good with computers.
Of course it was me, or rather Cape I should say, who noticed not everyone was happy. Peeking around I was surprised to find the Major spellbound watching the movie and he was crying! Okay, it wasn’t an all out wailing and teeth gashing cry, but the tears leaking down his face, and what I felt within him, was just as sorrowful.
My first thought was to kick Mike’s butt because he must’ve done something else magical to the movie, right?
Nope, going up to the Major, I put a hand on his shoulder to drag his attention from the movie. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Where did you get this? I thought I’d seen all of Stewart’s movies.” he said steadily, his eyes still glistening.
A little confused and slow on the uptake, I answered, “This is “It’s a Fantastic Life,” the first movie he made after returning from War World Two. Mike couldn‘t find a copy here and I don’t know how, but somehow he came up with one.”
He looked away from the old black and white film, “Could I watch it from the beginning please?”
Seeing how most of everyone else was busy, I thought, ‘Why not?’ “Sure just let me restart it.”
After restarting the DVD player, while the copy warnings and such were having their say, I asked him, “You’ve never seen this before? Did this film never get made here in this world?”
The Major shook his head and softly spoke, “No Misty, it never got made here. I knew Colonel James and called him friend. He was leading a B-29 Superfortress mission over one of the underground Japanese home island mountain strongholds in 1946, when his bomber got shot down by one of their aces in a Kikka jet. He never made it home.”
As the titles rolled he didn’t seem to even notice I was there. Quietly I stepped away, letting him watch his friend in what many in my world call, one of the best holiday films ever made.
Rejoining the pandemonium and diving back into the sea of gifts and wrapping paper, I helped do my share. Everyone was so caught up in trying to outdo each other, that in the chaos, I think Dee even wrapped some of her own presents without realizing it. Somehow Mr. Chang became the arbiter of whether or not a package was properly wrapped. If it wasn’t to spec, it got sent back and the wrapper had to wrap it again. Say that three times fast!
Somewhere along the way the guys turned part of it into a drinking contest with the loser having to take a drink of eggnog if they fell behind. Strange how they kept falling further and further behind, isn’t? For the rest of us there was hot cocoa amongst other beverages that the ever efficient Mr. Chang’s staff had delivered to our impromptu event.
Several of the younger Changs poked their noses in to see what was going on and, despite their elder’s slight disapproval, we pulled them inside to join in. With her robotic elf helpers, Dee was out-wrapping everyone, but a glance from me to our bright-eyed guests had her slipping some of hers into their stacks.
We got everything wrapped at last, and the winner for wrapping the most gifts was one of the smaller kids who spent the whole time grinning so wide I thought he was going to hurt himself. Dee got the most innocent look in her single eye when she pushed the huge stack over to the young boy. Receiving the prize cookie, he jumped up and down like he’d just won a gold medal. Of course the prize cookie was just like all the others we’d been busy snacking on, but no one cared about that, seeing the glow on the little one’s face.
Soon it was dinner time, and bedtime after that. It is amazing just how much eggnog those three guys went though, but after the Warders stopped in, they had help in making it all go away. The Major went over and shook Mike’s hand while exchanging some words. It’d been a very full exciting day, and I was more than ready for bed.
After chasing Dee to bed and doing our part as Santa’s elf helpers, Anza had some other plans. We had our own little Christmas Eve celebration. No, don’t brother asking because you just know I’m not telling!
Just like in households all over the world which honor the holiday, we were all awakened too early by cries of “Santa came!” It was very strange to sorta kinda have a teenage daughter after only being female for only about two months. Dee’d had a fairly good night and I say that because, in her first week staying with us she’d had a few bad ones with nightmares. We were all trying to figure out how this would all work, as Mom’s or sisters, but being a empath let me know how and when Dee needed extra attention. Christmas morning, she was just another child making up for all too many missed ones.
We rolled our eyes at the growing pile of gifts Dee had unwrapped, wondering just where we were going to put it all. The Major took care of that by giving her a small box. Ripping it open Dee found a key inside. A bit mystified she was led upstairs to a room next to ours, and into her own room! There was even an adjoining door to our room that had both Anza and I scratching our heads.
We both knew that door hadn’t been there when we left to go downstairs. I was wondering if, instead of some old Kung Fu master of the martial arts, we’d had Mr. Chang pegged wrong the whole time. Maybe he was one of those ancient Chinese Sorcerers! No matter how they’d done it, Dee loved her new room that was done in a Pink Princess theme. I love being me, that is a girl, but the “Itsy bitsy” remaining parts of me that had pretended to be Greg for so long, found all that PINK just too overpowering for words.
She ran around inside like a hamster in its cage, jumping on her new bed to peeking in the closets. Proving Dee was still a kid at heart, it didn’t take her long to remember there were more gifts for her downstairs. Charging down, ignoring cries of “Don’t run!” she beat us, as we took a more leisurely pace.
While Dee finished opening her last gift and started examining and categorizing them with as a critical eye as any freebooter inspecting their treasure. Anza and I exchanged our gifts to each other. There were a slew of things I gotten her that I thought she would like, but the gift from my heart to hers was something that had taken me a while to get right.
Opening the large box used for dresses and such, Anza pulled out the nude colored body stocking, I could see and feel the question within, wondering if there wasn‘t more to this. Reaching over and feeling the sleeve I encouraged her to feel the unusual texture and how it flexed and seemly changed texture depending on the direction you rubbed it.
Smiling at my love I directed, “Here love, now use your TK to gently stoke it like brushing your hair.”
Feeling my excitement and knowing I was up to something, “What are you up to you minx!?”
She jumped as the foot of the stocking thickened into a low heeled golden colored boot!
Grinning like a mad woman I said, “Now 90 degrees to either side.”
With her eyes wide Anza watched the boot change colors to black. Then, without any urging on my part, she changed it back to gold and then to a neutral gray.
“Where did you get this?” she asked finding the hands and using the same method to form the gloves.
“Why, little ole me made it, honey!” I hammed batting my eyes.
“No really! I mean, this isn’t like those disguises you made, and certainly not a project you buy at the sewing and crafts store.” she pointed out, still playing with the morphic material.
“Really, I did make it, with a little help from Cape. You don’t have a costume, relying on your telekinesis to kinda Velcro a disguise onto yourself. With your force screen you don’t really need the protection, but I’ve seen how you’re a little jealous of how Cape can just whip me up an outfit.
“Even if I could provide you with a Cape of your own, I don’t know if that would be a good idea. Cape is alive in some sense, and not knowing the possible, not so good things about it being a part of me, I won’t risk your health. That said, as you know when I was really trying hard to be a guy, I spent some time with those guys running around in medieval armor, whacking on each other with padded, wooden swords. I learned how to make chain mail, but found out that mail, while great against edged weapons, when it’s struck by a bullet, fragments, making it not protection, but actually makes the wound worse.
“Several years ago I saw a program about a European country having problems with rock falls, had used a net constructed like mail, but designed to deform and thus absorb the impact of falling rocks.
“With my obsessive Science-Fiction reading fetish for ideas, I used Cape to fashion this for you, using materials designed like a kind of Nano-scale chain mail or mesh. Using myself as the dress dummy, and with the help of the Major and the Changs in providing materials, we fashioned this supersuit for you.
“It took a couple of tries until Cape got the idea it had to be adjustable to fit you. We got the idea of forming the transforming parts from the way pop-up books work. The volume is packed away on a nano-scale, like a book, until your TK ‘opens’ it. The color is easy since we were working at such a small scale, to add reflectors that change the color value depending how you turn them, again using TK.
“We had time to test it, and it is very strong, as well as tough. It is at least as good as any bulletproof armor around today, but much lighter. You can wear it under your regular clothes with the hood and gloves rolled up, and no one would know. I don’t think anyone else with TK can muck with it because of your screen, but that could be a weakness. I just hope everyone doesn’t want one. After transforming that Hispanic Merc into her bondage wear, I thought this would be easy.
“Anything but, I’m afraid, with Cape making not just one layer of mail, but many of them sandwiched together like they do layers of Kevlar. It was hard work, but worth it. When Colonel Stone requested I help with his disguises, I was concerned that my secret project for you had been blown, but thankfully it wasn't. I want to be certain the one I love is as protected as I can get her. Merry Christmas, sweetheart!” and I gave her a chaste kiss, seeing how we were public.
She threw down the suit and cried. Sniffling she passed me a jewelry box. Swallowing a lump from pure anticipation, I opened the velvet box. Inside were two sets of matching rings that, while not obvious wedding bands, were clearly meant to symbolize them.
Fighting tears, I met Anza’s eyes. Since she was not over her first cry, they were as red as mine.
“Misty will you be my companion, mate and partner?” she asked me, not only with her voice, but with heart and soul.
Not able to do more than just nod, she took my hand and slipped on the ring.
Trying to make myself understood past my tears, I got out, “Anza will you be my companion, mate and partner?”
“Yes” she answered, in a quivering voice that was better than I had managed.
With trembling hands, I placed the ring on her hand. Then we both burst into happy tears at our engagement. We’d made a little spectacle of ourselves, but the one person I was most worried about going off the deep end was missing.
Glancing around the mounds of wrapping paper and gifts Major Victory caught my eye and just nodded. I knew it. It was a conspiracy! Seeing Morgan in girl mode near him, and the open boxes between them, I saw right then it was past time we had a little ‘girl’ talk. That could wait because of the gift the Major had given us. Right now I had some happy bawling I needed to take care of!
I found out during breakfast, that Tom had been gifted with permission to spend the morning with his mysterious lady, whom we still hadn’t met. This was not only a gift for him and us, but I think also for the Major and Morgan, who were exploring how they felt about each other. Oh, they were very discreet, but hide something like that from an empath? Not hardly!
After a scandalized Mr. Chang recovered from a mass clean up of the common area by getting everyone to pitch in, we were able to spend some time together. Gifts needed to be put away and preparations for more guests arriving for Christmas Dinner had to be made. Dee seemed a little confused at our engagement and the sharing of rings, but after putting her gifts away and a bit of play, she went to sleep, exhausted but happy.
I opened my gift from the Major, which was just an envelope. Expecting just a card, I’d held off opening it, still shaking from Anza’s surprise. There was a card, but along with it was a promise for more training. This time in that F8U Dragonfly warbird of his! For a WWII history and aviation fan geek, trust me this was something special. Sixty years old it might be, but it was still a high performance aircraft that could push the sound barrier and satisfy just about any need for speed.
Anza got something similarly close to her heart, a promise of assistance for attending medical school. Inside were certificates for her GED and correspondence courses that Dr. Lee had arranged for her to take to ease the qualifications. Of course that was only good if we ended up staying, but as a gift, it was something she appreciated.
The Question and his wife showed up for dinner. Mike, still being under the Warders supervision, was able to come with them. There followed another exchange of gifts. I had made a kind of supersuit for him too. It was much simpler than Anza’s costume, without the color changing bit and the unfolding hidden uniform, but just as bulletproof. His was cut just like a black t-shirt with a silver lightning bolt. It was made the same way as Anza’s and the Colonel’s disguises had been, which meant I’d had to feed Cape the right materials as well as the energy. I might be the only person in the room who had lost weight during the Holidays, rather than gain it!
Stealing a page from Batguy, I had made the bolt stand out in bas-relief, so Cape could add even more layers of Nano-mail to it, making that area as tough as we could. That was just in case someone decided the pretty, shiny, silver lightning bolt was a good target and aim point.
He smiled at my veiled disclosure of the avatar he’d chosen. Right back at us, he gave us his gifts. Opening the box we found a pair of slick looking sunglasses and new phones. Picking up the phone, it was like the old ones, being meant to be used for tactical communication while in combat. Unlike the old ones, when I flipped it open the thing unfolded into something like a Star Tripper Quadcorder!
After almost dropping the damn thing in astonishment, I accused him, “You’ve been talking with Reid out in the chopper again, haven’t you?”
He held out his hand for my phone and pretended innocence, “Who me? I wouldn’t do anything like that. Just look what happened to you with your little bet over a laptop. Now these beauties have GPS, and wireless functions built in. A certain AI may have helped with the voice recognition software, so you can access web functions by voice. A sub-vocal microphone can enable you to communicate without making a sound. The learning software is able to translate that into something that sounds much like your normal voices, so it is more intuitive.
“These glasses are actually a wireless display and linked to your new phones. They can display information relayed to your phones, and even tactical situation stuff. You guys are the experts now, so I’ll leave that to you to configure. Additionally, these babies offer ballistic protection and automatically tint themselves for protection against flash/bang blinding type attacks, as well as for sunny days. Made from memory retaining materials, they’ll change when tactical from this stylish look, into a visor to help keep your identities secret.
Turning the phone over to show a cartoon furry footed knight jousting on pony back, “This is the panic button. Hit it three times and it pages all the other phones with your current GPS location. It is keyed to your biometrics so as to prevent accidents,” he handed it back to me.
I winced, studying the cartoon Halfling Chevalier. Never, never should I’ve started referring to our base as the Hole! It was all vivid in my mind’s eye! There we are confronting the villains as we boldly announce “We’re the ‘Orrbbit Chevalier’s! Surrender or face your doom!” The ones that doesn’t have a clue are ready to kick our butts, while the ones that do are laughing theirs off!
Sighing, I found that Mike had set the things to ‘unfold’ themselves automatically, only the first time we opened them. Sourly I thought, ‘just like the snake leaping out of a can.’ The problem I had was, after playing with it, I couldn’t see how he’d done it. I had used Cape to make Anza’s new costume and Mike’s shirt. How had he done it?”
“Mike how did you do this?” I asked. Getting suspicious, and knowing his avatar used magic, “Did you cheat?”
Grinning and enjoying himself, he raised his thumb and forefinger in the age old symbol of something small, “Just a little bit.”
We jumped, as a small green spark arced between his fingers!
Other gifts exchanged between us, but the only other one that sticks with me was the one Mike gave Major Victory.
Opening the box, it was full of DVD movies. The Major just smiled, “Thank you Mike. An old dinosaur like me never collected these new fangled DVD things. These movies will make a nice start to a collection.”
Thinking back, did I see a tear in the big guy eyes?
I gave Mike another accusing scowl, because I had an idea that those flicks might be a little hard to find around here, but he just smiled back at me.
The rest of the evening, while not as exciting, was still enjoyable. Tom had returned for dinner and, from the huge smile on his face, his paramour must’ve had a very special Christmas present for him. He was so jovial that it was hard not to believe that something carnal had been involved. She had been invited, but hadn’t accepted. I was willing to offer this mysterious woman thanks for helping make the holiday more pleasant for everyone. Something else for the list, along with having a long talk with Morgan. Meet Tom’s lady and find out what she’s done with the real Tom!
When things started winding down, giving Anza the high sign, we kidnapped Morgan. Using the old ‘the girls have to go to the potty’ line we hustled her inside the female sanctum.
Anza wasting no time went for the jugular, “Okay, give, girlfriend! Don’t hold out on us. We want details!
Her mouth fell open in shock! Oh lord, I think the world is going to end. We caught Morgan flatfooted!
With her eyes wide, trying to dodge the question, she half stuttered, “Hmmm, What are you talking about?”
Anza crossed her arms, making it plain she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Playing my part as Jeff to her Mutt, “Morgan, do you really think the Telepath and Empath wouldn’t notice how you and the Major have been making goo-goo eyes at each other?”
With her thoughts racing behind her green eyes, “It’s not like that! I mean we just like each other. Charles and I like spending time together.”
Anza shook herself like a bullterrier who’d found a juicy bone, “Charles! First names no less! You can’t stop there!”
Giving her a hug, I told her “Morgan, I hate to tell you this, but while both of you may be saying one thing, you two sure seem to be feeling something else.”
She glowed! “Really? He feels it too?” Her words were followed by a deep blush as she realized just what she’d let out of the bag.
Anza, relenting, hugged her too, “Honey, we are all new at this. I never would have thought it of the dinosaur after he found out about your switch-eroo power. What we both know, is he does have feelings for you. I don’t trust guys that much and thought that maybe he swung both ways, but inside, he only glows when you’re fem. Will that be a problem for you?
Morgan still blushing, “No lie about this being new! I do enjoy girl-time, but I also like being a guy. The respect and not dealing with being ogled is good. But the dressing up and not having to be afraid of showing my feelings, is wonderful too. You know, being treated nice, and like I’m special?”
Thinking about it for moment I suggested, “You like being a guy because it doesn’t have the disadvantages of being a woman. You’re treated more as an equal and, unless I’m completely off in left field here, it is comforting because it is familiar.
The both of them thought about it and then Anza, “We got thrown into the deep end, but you got a chance to test the waters. When it got a little too much you could always just change back. Does that sounds right?” she asked.
With her head cocked in thought, “Kind of … yes. I don’t think I ever felt the way you two seemed to have. Back home it was ripping you both up. Danny did what he could to make things rights, by the only means he had.” Morgan paused, “But Greg, I think, was heading for a meltdown. He had trouble finding and keeping a job, and although he was going to college I don‘t think that would have been the end of his problems.
“I just never felt like that, but now that I’ve had the chance to experience girl-time, I don’t know if I want to give it up. Charles has made this worse because I do like the way he treats me as Fem, and the way it makes me feel. This is so confusing, because I want to be Fem when I’m with him. In guy-mode, I don’t even want to think the other angle, if know what I mean. I think that, as a girl I like guys, and as a guy I like girls, no offense to you two.
We both smiled back at her while holding hands, “None taken.”
Closing her eyes, “I think this all started when, during training we found that as Lady Diamond, I was less susceptible to that ‘Screw me now’ glow of his. We spent a lot of time together anyway, because of my being the team leader, and after finding common interests, started spending even more together.
“It amazed me that I was beginning to feel all warm and tingly when we were together, but I thought it was just me. I hadn’t been a girl all that long, really.
She wagged a finger at us, “Then you two just had to go and tell me he feels the same way! Do you have any idea of how this could end?”
Anza and I turned and looked at each other. Smiling, we turned back to our friend, holding up the rings we’d given each other just that morning.
Giving a small cry, she covered her head with her arms on the vanity, “You two are so not helping!”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “We’re the bearers of the news, but what you feel for each other is true.”
Anza knelt next to her. “Honey, we are here for you. Didn’t you just tell us Greg was tearing himself apart because of his denial? That goes for you, too, girlfriend. You’re going to have talk with him about this.”
I added, “She’s right. We going into harm’s way and you know better than I how important it is to have a clear head when everything starts falling apart. One thing you have to make clear to him is his Bio-field thingie is not responsible. He’s going to jump to that conclusion anyway, so you’ll have to stop that reaction cold in its tracks.”
“That’s right girlfriend,” Anza counseled, “That old fossil is so old school, if he thought for a second he was taking advantage of you, he’d go all noble and try and ‘dump’ you for your own good. You have to lie and tell him all the other things you love about him. His generosity, the way he treats the Chang’s, who worship the ground he walks on, not like servants, but like family, that kind of stuff.”
Morgan bristled, “Who’s a fossil? And what do you mean by lie? He’s got a lot of traits that have nothing to do with his physical …” and trailed, off seeing our wide eyed interest.
Breaking up in laughter, Anza giggled, “You’ve got it bad, girl!”
Smiling at us despite herself, Morgan scolded, “You two are incorrigible!”
“Did we ever claim to be tractable?” On that note, we went back to our guests, arm in arm, while some no doubt wondered what we were up to now.
Unfortunately, like every year, the holiday came to an end. The whole gang was in good spirits, so I would give this year’s Christmas two thumbs up! You don’t get engaged every year, you know. That would take all the fun out of it!
A week later we were waiting prepared and ready for trouble. The Colonel and I had been concerned that the Syndicate would try something on New Years. We were on alert, but to everyone’s relief the ball drop in New Riverside was uneventful. The city was able to ring in the new year with the usual merrymaking.
As a cover for Halflington being on full alert and ready to respond, a story was put out about a private party. A considerable supply of party supplies was ordered and delivered. Late that night, or rather early the next morning, when we were sure trouble had passed New Riverside by, we had plenty of bubbly stuff to toast to our own futures and dreams for the coming year.
Her preternaturally sharp eyes, aided by the high tech image intensifiers, searched the quarry, turned eccentric millionaire’s playground. Hidden in the winter wooded area on a neighboring hill, her normally colorful costume was now muted browns and yellows, which made her the next best thing to invisible among the fallen leaves. Her bright silver Omni-staff was concealed in its sheath. Scattered behind her were more than 20 of what the media called, ‘Syndicate Enforcers’. Beyond them were another two full platoons of the mercenary manned Black Guards.
The entire mission rode on her shoulders, and her choices tonight were anything but easy. Intelligence sources were told that a party was planned for tonight, making it the perfect time to eradicate this thorn in the side of the Master’s plans. Two full squads consisting of the Meta’s and Mutants of her Invincibles, and the two platoons of the highly trained soldiers and/or lesser powered mutants of the Black Guards, were a formidable army many counties would fall before.
The problem was, not only was there not a party going on, but instead it was an alerted, prepared stronghold. The previous occupant, Dr. Vole, had designed it as a fortress and, contrary to appearances, this Mr. Roland had done nothing to compromise that. In fact, she suspected it was more of one than ever before. The sensors, robots, and weapon emplacements had been upgraded, and the few spies she’d been able to get inside had promptly been ejected.
Then she had to consider Cazadora’s report of the half to full dozen Meta’s that included those that captured her at the Mall battle. If they were trained much like her own Invincibles, they could give them considerable problems. No, she sadly decided, it was just too risky. There was no doubt in her mind she could roll over them, if for no other reason, with just numbers. The risk was that she would end up spending her forces to do it.
No one knew for sure who Mr. Roland was, but they did have some guesses. If true, he wouldn’t go down without one hell of a fight. The plan of taking the women and children of the facility as hostages had been shot down when all of them had gone to ground, rather than busy with guests.
She was confident that no matter how tough Roland was, or how many supersuits they had, her people could take them out. But attack an alert fortress and still have enough people standing afterwards to carry out the rest of the Master’s plans?
Unhappily she tapped out the code for abort on her tactical commo pad. The Master wasn’t going to be pleased, but if she suggested this had been a trap he might be more lenient than usual. She was a favorite, after all. If worst came to worst, she knew her mutant physiology made her as near to invulnerable as any mythic figure from any work of literature.
Patience eased herself back off her spotter’s post. Her desire for revenge for being expelled from the Naval Academy because of the manifesting of her mutation had put her here. She had ceased to wonder if it was worth it, but the small part that was still her Marine father’s daughter, was frightened she was starting to enjoy giving and receiving the pain she carried out at the Master’s request.
Shivering at the thought, she saw the glint of pleasure from her Invincibles at the mission abort. Some were unwilling recruits forced into service, while others competed with her for the approval of the one they’d all sold their souls to. They knew the likely punishment she was going to receive. Tall and unbowed, Patience walked to her transport, wondering what her Annapolis classmates would think of her now.
“Their plan failed, but any chance of us surprising them is gone. We finish this and we do it now. I know you have to live with the consequences of what happened here tonight while, win or lose, we don’t know what will happen to us. Like the woman said, do what you feel you need to, and so will we.” She finished, and walked over to me.
“Do you know which way?” my friend softly asked me.
I nodded, and Cape lifted us up in flight, as we soared towards where a scared young girl waited for rescue.
Welcome, true believers or not, to the last and final installment of my epic, first, full length novel Heroes of Justice. It has been one heck of an experience. I owe so much to all of you who offered encouragement and help in the 18 months it took me to complete this thing. The list of those whom have helped at one time or another is a long one; Janet Nolan, Hope, Jamie, Sephrena Miller, Catherine Linda Michel, and of course the wonderful Holly Happy Hart. My spouse the ever understanding Paula was always accepting of my strange rants about plot, fights, powers and the arcane world of gaming. My the good Lord always bless gamer chicks!!!! Now dear friends, wherever you are, pull out your character sheets, the holy dice of the deities of your choice and lets get started. Game On!
Prologue:
Blight bowed before his Master, acknowledging the commands he had just received. Sparing a glance at the woman beside him still writhing in torment on the floor, he took sadistic pleasure in seeing the arrogant woman, who sought to supplant him as the Master’s favorite, brought low.
As if mere sexual favors could replace the bone deep loyalty Blight had given to the Master who had lifted him from the slums of Lifkosia on the island Cyprus. Living in abject poverty and treated with scorn because of his disfiguring birth defects, he gave the man who took him from that hellish existence a slavish devotion, a fidelity that had been repaid many times over with gifts that would tax even the generosity of the gods. All it took was a complete lack of morals and compassion for any living creature but that for his Master.
His long years of service had been amply rewarded. He now had everything he had once lacked. The body he now wore was the very example of physical perfection as well as having great wealth and influence. It was sad that the previous owner hadn’t shown the Master the proper respect. He’d paid the price for his mistake. It would be interesting to see if the fool was the self-made success he’d claimed to be. Blight had heard that life was hard for teenage girls on the Ivory Coast, and doubted she would make good on her boast.
Now the potential payoffs for the Master’s most recent endeavors may well exceed anything the once poor deformed Greek ever could have imagined, but as fate would have it, an old enemy had returned and threatened ruin on the eve of the Master’s greatest conquest. No matter how much blood might stain his hands, Blight was determined that his Master would at long last achieve the success that was only his just due.
Dismissed, Blight rose, calling Blip, the teleporter to him. The empty headed mutant was lost in her own private world as usual, but her talents made her useful enough to put up with her eccentricities. Leaving his rival struggling to recover, he strolled into Blip’s rainbow hued arch. For a breath he was in that strange fantasy world that existed only behind the rainbow swirls of Blip’s eyes, but then stepped back into the real world in far Japan.
Taking a deep breath of Nagasaki’s night air, he oriented himself where he stood in the Memorial Park. With a purpose driven stride, he headed towards the centerpiece of the park, the Shrine.
Heroes of Justice: Old friends!
As always after the holidays it was a pain to get back into the swing of things. We had a full schedule again, with my flight lessons; Anza’s studying to prepare for medical school; not to mention our marriage to plan.
That part was simple. During our prolonged engagement, we would keep a journal, going over the things we liked and wanted, as well as those we could leave out. The reason for that was we weren’t even sure what world we would end up on, assuming we both survived. The journal was for when we did know more and could make better plans.
The other stuff was just extra straws piled high on the camel’s back, along with our continuingly learning more about staying alive in our new profession. Yep, we were genuine card carrying superheroes. Wanna see the cards, or the secret handshake? No? Okay, the cards were a gag Reid printed out, but we really were working towards finding and locating a criminal organization.
Although we did have a leg up after discovering how to use the knowledge and the skills of the characters whom became our avatars, we also had a staff of teachers ranging from an unnamed secret society of Chinese assassins to SAS instructors, not to mention this world’s version of Capt. Americana teaching us the finer points of the path of the hero.
The recovery time after the holidays gave Dee a chance become more accustomed to us and let us find out more about her. We all got a little teary when trying to explain about our engagement to her, and we found out her memories of the outside world were limited to those of a 10 year old boy! That rat bastard had used recordings of his own memories on his accelerated grown clones, and had used the same ones for her!
Dee assured us that she was happy being a girl, but having the memories of a boy was a little weird for her sometimes. Tell us about it! After explaining what had happened to us she didn’t have any problems understanding. We all shared a cry and I think that helped bond us together as a family, if an unusual one by anyone’s standards.
It took a few weeks, but with Doctor Lee’s advice, Anza was able to use her TK to help with Dee’s scarring. Even Cape and I were able to help some, using its ability to transmute stuff. Under Dr. Lee’s exacting supervision pushing her to expand her limits, Anza was able to actually heal some the damage. Don’t get me wrong. Dee will be bearing her scars for the rest of her life, but while she will get a double take now and then, it wasn’t anything like that Frankie Cruger, horror movie-like visage she once had. That, almost by itself, turned Dee into another girl, nothing like the shy thing always hiding behind me.
We even caught her happily running with the pack of the Chang’s great grandkids, out of breath and dodging trouble like all children do. She did still have her black times, and Anza and I had her as an uninvited guest in the middle of the night more than once. That’s okay, because we knew she was healing, and it took time.
The Major humored her and let her train some, but plainly told her if she tried anything before he thought she was ready he would ground her until he was old and gray. With his bio-energy what-zit, that could be a very long time. Anza and I also made that clear to her, since we more or less acted as her parents. I even promised that if the Major agreed she was ready, I would help with her supersuit.
Not to give the wrong impression, the bad guys, like always, were still causing problems. Every large city has more than its fair share of normal folks willing to do harm to one another for a few bucks, or out of passion. After all you can’t save the world every day, don’t you know.
The Syndicate was still making themselves known too, but more like with training exercises than missions trying anything specific. The Colonel and I came up with that explanation after looking over their patterns. It made perfect sense. Why bother building and maintaining training areas when you can use the real thing? Of course, that is, if you don’t mind the ordinary Joe and Mary getting underfoot, and ending up injured or worse.
The only real action we saw happening was the ULTIMATE supersuits getting in a few scuffles with those so-called larceny training missions. It was obvious that Reaction Team One outclassed their foes considerably. On the other hand, their opponents were easily identified as primarily ex-free agents who’d been forcibly recruited into the Syndicate ranks.
We rarely saw the faces of those we thought of as the Syndicate High Command. Big Red, Ripper, and Patience, who was at least their tactical commander and maybe more. It was scary to see just how many were now a part of the Syndicate. Although many weren’t in our weight class, being out numbered three or four to one is never a good thing.
You would think that with Team One on the job they would be filling up their temporary confinement facilities right? Wrong. They would arrive at the crime scene and smash a few of the newbie baddies. Then the rest would grab their fallen buddies and hightail it as fast as they could. Then Team One, all ready to finish the job, would be ordered to stand down.
I’m not kidding! They were operating under strict, what are called, Rules of Engagement, which state what you can and can’t do. Hell, even when you’re allowed to shoot back! So while Team One was gnashing their teeth, ULTIMATE Strike units in their dropships flew off to intercept the bad guys.
The bad guys, seeing they were being followed from the air, would run inside and lose their pursuers before the troopers riding inside could deploy and get to them. It would have been funny if it hadn’t happened so many times.
The stated reason for forbidding Team One to give chase was concerns about collateral damage. You want to see collateral damage? I had an office chair that was a little too close to the Major, the 3rd or 4th time this happened. He wadded it up like a wet paper towel in pure frustration. It wasn’t a total waste I suppose, because I did get a much nicer chair in exchange, and I did learned just how colorful a stream of metaphors an SAS Colonel (retired) can produce.
Anza has been giving me a little grief about some of the Britishisms that have been creeping into my speech. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around our SAS Colonel, but after such an educational experience I couldn’t help but take notes!
For me, the political situation was entirely too much like some of the stupid stuff that went on in the Military during the Cold War years, during Vietnam and beyond. The politicians tried to take direct control of military actions, instead of leaving it to the military people who knew what they were doing. They couldn’t understand they had two choices and not three. Settle your problems with politics or use the military to do it. Trying to mix the two just gets more people killed, and more than likely doesn’t solve your problem either.
No, I was way too young to have seen it, but when I was in the service, many who had been there were retiring. Just like any group of old soldiers, they made sure the greenhorns, like me, knew enough to tell a bad policy from a good one. An important lesson, just in case we needed to protect ourselves from our duly appointed leaders. A very sad lesson for those who had pledged to defend their country.
A lesson, I’m sure, that wasn’t lost on Team One right now. I plotted the location and circumstances of their last skirmish, while as always, looking for patterns. Wheels within wheels, effendi! We’d narrowed down our suspected locations but the trouble was the bloody thing kept moving around. Did I just say Bloody? Maybe Anza is right and I have been spending a mite too much time around our dear English Colonel.
Be that as it may, before we moved, we had to be positive. We were wanted by ULTIMATE after all, and a simple costume change would only go just so far. Before blowing our cover we needed to be as sure as we could. Once revealed, it was certain ULTIMATE would try and prosecute our group to the full extent of the law. Sure as hell none of us wanted to end up in their bureaucratic retentive grasp.
Pushing myself back away from my sticky note festooned, framed monitor, I stretched. All work and no play makes Misty a dull girl! I checked on Dee who was studying in her own cubical. We’d found her IQ was up there in the hard to measure area and, after four years of having almost nothing to do but use the base’s teaching programs, she was well into college graduate territory. Except, that is, for anything resembling current events and culture. The sciences, classical literature, and particularly computer sciences, she excelled in.
The computers had been programmed by Doctor Vole, and so reflected his prejudices. He had omitted much of popular culture and contemporary history. It was hit or miss if she knew anything past 1982, where her second hand taped memories stopped.
There’s story there too. The Warders, after they’d captured the base and faked destroying it, had brought in a computer wiz from another team to reprogram it and its robots. What he missed was, there were a lot of computers down there, and a lot of stuff was hardwired into them, and couldn’t be changed.
He did reprogram most of them, but the whole effect made the blasted network a bit eccentric. Maybe not an AI, but it sure had it’s own way of doing things. Don’t worry, it’d never done anything life threatening, but it certainly caused some interesting situations from time to time. After tracking down the sub-unit that handled the education stuff and fixing a few things, it was now catching her up on the holes in her education.
Touching her shoulder, I smiled as she looked up at me with two eyes. Replacing an eye was something beyond all of us. That is except for Morgan. Somehow she grew a crystal resembling Dee’s eye. That freaked me out, since it was like those pictures of Doc’s growing ears on the backs of mice sort of thing.
The thing was almost an exact match to Dee’s normal eye, but since the socket had shrunk they had to work a little to fix it. Afterwards, that made her face look a lot more normal. What we didn’t figure on was that Morgan’s gift was a living crystal.
Somehow it had connected itself to her muscles and acted like just a living eye. I mean you could see the darn thing focus, for goodness sakes! Anza said it was just a case of Dee’s mutant genes helping her recover.
She was a natural athlete and had a passion for baseball. With two eyes again Dee needed to relearn how to use depth perception. To help her, I started playing catch with her. That started yet another line of training for me. Seeing me playing catch with Dee one day, the Major stepped in and demonstrated the correct way to throw. What can I say? It’s not my fault I throw like a girl now. We were all having a good time when he pushed us over to the firing range.
It was a tunnel dug into the hillside that was covered in baffles and absorbent safety materials. He walked over to a large basket of shots used for shot putting. He picked up one of the heavy metal spheres, and, holding the thing like a baseball, threw the thing down range as if it had been shot from a cannon!
Both Dee and I grabbed for the hearing protection headsets, just as a ringing BOOM! rattled our teeth. No, he hadn’t broken the sound barrier, but he could throw the damn thing just as fast as any professional baseball pitcher for the big leagues could. Look at it this way. Would you want to be hit by a 16 lb. shot traveling at 90 mph/145 kph? Just for your information, that is about the same as an old fashioned, black powder cannon from the Napoleonic era.
Grinning, he handed me a shot, but it was way too big for my hands. I gave him a look and handed it back to him. Not disturbed, he took that one back and handed me another smaller one.
“This one is a woman’s standard at 8 lbs. The one I threw was male standard at 16 .lbs. Go ahead and pitch it as fast as you can.” he encouraged me.
I’d never been very athletic, but that had all changed, along with everything else. There was a satisfying crash and I grinned back at him.
He just handed me a basket full of the things! Great! I should’ve known I wouldn’t be let off the hook so easily.
“Mystery, you are an able hand to hand fighter, but you don’t have anything capable of shooting back when someone is shooting at you. I thought about weapons, but that doesn’t play to your abilities. Thinking about how you can shape stuff with your Cape, I’m thinking it should be easy for it to scoop up and shape balls for you,” he explained while pitching to Dee.
Keeping my face straight, I was thinking, “No sir, Now that I’ve gotten rid of those I don’t want’em back!”
“They are an easy, simple shape and not as hard as other things to learn how to throw such as stars, knives or others. I want you to continue to play catch with Dee to build control, but also here at the range to increase your power. With practice you’ll be able to disable without serious damage or,” glancing back at the range, “have the firepower of a small cannon if you need it.”
He also gently talked Dee into using her powers while we were here. She was afraid of them since one of her fellow clones had nearly killed her with them. The Major pointed out we had plenty of protection for shooters and observers here at the range. The most telling point he made was, if Dee wanted to be sure she never hurt someone with her powers, it was best to learn how not to, rather than deny them.
It was a strange thing to watch, almost like watching someone walk into a laser light tunnel. Then, BLAM! it met the rock wall of the hill! A torrent of rock chips flowed around her as she walked about 6’ into the rock face.
Looking at that person sized tunnel, I glanced back at the huge railway tunnel we used mostly for storage and realized that Doctor Vole himself had to have made it. The damn thing was big enough for a train or truck to pass though, and nearly a mile long!
That was a turning point for her, I think. We did practice, with her making tunnels and Cape making baseballs from the chips. Pitching and catching was a lot more fun when it was play, rather than simply another thing to train at! But that wasn’t on the agenda for today!
Working together, Dee and Reid had convinced the base computer to fabricate a flight simulator of the Major’s baby, Fifi, his F8U Dragonfly. So before I ever got into the plane, I practiced taking off, flying and, of course, getting it back down on the ground in one piece.
Then had followed actual flights, sitting in the back seat, which had a full set of controls, learning what to do in all different kind of emergencies. A thorough instrument flying class had followed, with more flight time. I’d already had exposure to this with the classes taught by Reid and Will, but the Major was a big believer in being thorough.
Now after all of that, today was solo day! He watched me as I walked down the preflight list and registered my flight plans with the local control tower. I had learned a secret during my training. The Major was not the technically illiterate old fart he pretended to be. His old warbird might have been restored to near original condition, but the avionics, aviation electronics, were just as modern as Reid the Chopper’s, if tastefully hidden.
I don’t know if I can tell you what it was like. The Dragonfly was designed to almost hover, as well as being able to race away at a top speed exceeding 500 Mph. The only reason it couldn’t break the sound barrier was compression problems, because of being propeller driven. The structure was so compact it was seriously tough, and could take punishment that was nothing short of astounding. Maybe other planes had to worry about the wings ripping off, but not this one.
It was like the best experience you ever had on a roller coaster, magnified by, I don’t know, a lot! I could well understand why the Major was so fond of this plane, even though I understand he owns several other types. You could pull G-forces in this one that only modern military fighters could rival. I didn’t dare really push things on this flight, but I had a blast anyways.
All too soon it was time to put this horse back in the stable. Taking off wasn’t tricky, because it really just floated right off the ground. Landing back inside the quarry was a little harder, but mostly it was a head game. The landing field just looked small. Pull up the angle of attack of the two turbo-prop engines and you almost had a helicopter. They wouldn’t go completely vertical, but the 15 degrees they did rotate, let me land as gently as a feather.
In my world they had never made it into production, but I think, because they had here, it pushed along acceptance of the tilt-rotor concept. They are fairly common here and even had variants like those dropships. Back home they were just starting to be produced, but still were viewed suspiciously by the conservative flight community.
My own little flight crew was waiting for me with congratulations and hugs. Anza and Dee just giggled when the Major revealed he was a certified flight instructor, and handed me my license! I know my jaw hit the ground! Will and I were still trying to figure out how to sneak me out to take the tests so it would be valid in my secret ID. WOW, I hadn’t even seen this coming!
Then if that wasn’t enough Anza handed me a gold envelope. Raising an eyebrow, I opened it to find an invitation within. Pulling out the expensive card, it was an invitation to witness the official engagement of Duane Moors and Rebecca Newton. It was to take place Friday at the Moors estate.
There I was with my mouth open again. I had to take a second to remember that Duane Moors was Tom’s alter-ego here. Tom was getting married? Twitch, twitch. Tom actually sent us invitations? The Moors estate?
Everyone got a good laugh at my expense. Of course, since I more or less was our intelligence officer, I would have to be the last one to know. I did have the excuse along with everyone else, that we’d been pushing a huge work load for months that would’ve exhausted a normal human within days. Training, studying, investigating, flying, preparing for a marriage, oh my! No wonder a few things had slipped by!
The Major wanted to know all about this woman, but since that was one of the things I’d had let slide, no one could tell him very much. I think he’d come to regard all of us as his kids, so to speak. Well, with the exception of Morgan, that is. Oh gosh, they weren’t going to surprise me next, were they?
He went off to find the Colonel and Mr. Chang, who were our counter-intelligence folks responsible for making sure that spies only found out what we wanted them to. Meanwhile my family filled me on what I’d missed while flying about. It seems that Tom had continued running his security business on the side. With so much unrest in the city, private firms like his were doing land-office like boom business. He’d parleyed his original funds into a nice nest egg in a very short time.
The Moors estate was the mansion he and Mark had been given, back when we first arrived. He had kept it up and used it as a bachelor pad. As for this Rebecca Newton, Anza had pumped Mark for information. You better get rid of that dirty thought before I have to hurt you!
She and Tom had met soon after we had started our training here at Halflington. At first, only on the Saturday afternoons we had off, but soon they were seeing each other regularly. Tom had proposed to her on Christmas, which accounted for his good spirits back then. Only recently had she accepted. As for his being engaged back home in our world, it seems he’d decided that life here was an improvement. There, he was just an owner of a one man car repair shop. Here he was a successful businessman, well on his way to that first million. All that is according to Mark. As for Miss Newton, we found a whole lot about how good looking she was, but damn little about what she was like. Argh! Men!
One of my best friends is getting hitched to some woman who, for all I know, is a gold digging bimbo? I don’t think so! Firing up the ole computer, I did a records check. That came up with her driver’s license picture. Ok, she was attractive, and had no violations, except for some parking tickets. Her high school records showed her as an unremarkable “B” student hadn’t been involved in any school activities.
Her parents were professionals who had saved their nickels and dimes, and had become well off due to hard work. She had gone to college and majored in business. Now, working as an junior executive, she’d gotten a mention in the local papers.
Heck, I even checked the ULTIMATE database, and was surprised to find her there. She was listed in the least powerful category, an Alpha, putting her in the better, stronger, faster category, but not enough to go leaping over tall buildings. Nothing special as far as mutants go. On paper, a good match for Tom.
I was a little frustrated that I couldn’t find out much, but I guess we would all learn more when we met the future Mrs. Moors on Friday.
Friday, March 21st, a date that will live in infamy! Just another day, right? First of all, the Major had suggested that Tom move the party here to Halflington. The security was better here and, if something did go wrong, help was nearby.
Tom responded, very reasonably, that the invitations had already been sent out, as well the services, such as of the caterers, arranged for. As for security, he had a number of his own employees who, while not up to the Chang’s standards, were good for anything short of a full assault.
Finally, Tom told him this would make their relationship look more like the cover said it was, of client and contractor. Although he appreciated all the hard work the Major had put in to get us ready, he wanted to make it on his own, so to speak. That was why he, Mr. Roland, hadn’t been invited.
The Major, being a big hearted guy, just stuck out his hand and said he’d no problem with that. He did, however, want plenty of pictures, and to meet with this young lady at some point in the future.
Tom returned the handshake, and that was that.
Don’t you believe it! Morgan was four kinds of mad! It took us half the day to convince her not to burn Tom in half, quarters, and than sauté what was left. She considered the slight an insult to the Major, and wanted blood.
Anza and I passed each other a knowing look. “Yep she’s got it real bad alright.!”
The two of them had that talk we urged them to, and of course, that hadn’t decided a single thing. They were still mooning over each other and doing that ‘suffering in silence’ thing. Speaking as the empath, and mate of the telepath, their silence wasn’t anywhere near quiet enough!
After convincing Morgan that boycotting the party at the last minute wouldn’t help the Major any, we started our own preparations. Of course Cape had a ball dressing me up. We had kept my true ‘blond’ look, to help foil anyone still looking to collect on that damned most wanted reward poster.
We both went with dressy suits, suitable for work, or after work activities. The reason for that was because we were out in the public eye, and Tom, being in the security business, was a possible target. With that outfit Anza could wear her supersuit underneath. Me, well, because people had come to expect us to be a matched set so, why not?
The other problem we had, was Dee. She wanted to come along, don’t you know? Tom and she got along well together for some reason. He was the big brother she never had, and he spoiled her rotten. I wondered just how much she’d had to do with Tom softening his stance against Anza and I. With all that said, she wanted to go in the worst possible way.
We really did try to explain it to her. One, she didn’t have an invitation. Not because she wasn’t wanted, but because this was an adult event. Two, it was too dangerous, since it was out of Halflington. Three, she still didn’t have a valid identity, although we were working on it. Any cop could shoot her and, under the current laws, he would probably get a medal! We had to reassure her that it wasn’t because of her appearance, about which she was still shy. When we got her identity problems settled we would treat her on the town, but not tonight.
We watched her as she stomped off to her room to pout, still angry. Don’t you just love teenagers? It’s either that or strangle them!
Normally, of late, when we went to something like this, Mark would be driving us in LIMO, but tonight he was already out and about. Just like old times, we were back to the incredible Flower-Power mobile. We had the top up, because it was a chilly March night, and let’s not forget our freshly done hair, courtesy of Lin, who was a stylist as well as a deadly commando.
Morgan was riding with us, in girlfriend mode, while Will was driving his un-enhanced pickup, with Morgan’s Harley strapped to the bed, just in case, mind you. Maybe that should be a ‘comparatively’ normal truck. He, and the guys, had been tinkering with it for a while now, and I had the funny feeling that, in no shape or form, was it remotely street legal anymore, but all of that was hidden under the hood. Considering the same went for our other rides, I won’t tell if you won’t!
It wasn’t a huge gala, but big enough to strain the parking facilities. The last time we’d been here was when we ran to the quarry to hide from everyone who was chasing us. It was kind of strange to be coming back.
We pulled up and demurely handed the keys to the valet. I was starting to feel uneasy and not sure why. It was a strange feeling, sorta like having a head full of cotton. Cape didn’t seem to be picking up on anything specific, but was keyed up as well. Back to the old dog analogy, its hackles weren’t up but it knew something was wrong.
Even mentally conversing with Anza took effort, “Love, there is something around here making Cape and me restless. I don’t know what, but keep cool.”
“A stirring in the Force is it?” She sent back with a mental giggle. “Sorry love, I couldn’t help myself. I feel it too. I’ll let everyone else know by mental-radio, but Tom, you know, can keep me out.”
Mentally, I replied “I’ll find him and sneak a phone call to Halflington to update our status. This could be just something minor. We don’t want to overreact and blow our cover.”
I was walking into the main hall when I saw someone that made me do a double take. With a swift move I moved up the stairs before she could hide. Dee!
“What are you doing here, young lady?” I demanded, in a no-nonsense tone.
I was adding up the things that could go wrong tonight, and it was coming closer and closer to something I didn‘t want to think about too much!
“You don’t understand, Misty! I just had to come! I hid in the trunk of the beetle. I sweet talked the anti-intrusion software into not saying anything,” she pleaded.
Giving her a good look, she was wearing one the dresses she’d gotten for Christmas. From the looks of it, she’d had it in a bag and just changed upstairs. I really didn’t want to know how she got up there so fast to change.
I sighed, “Dee, there is something not quite right here, OK? It could mean trouble, bad trouble”
Her expressive eyes got larger, “Really?”
“Really! Now, I’m looking for Duane, and I want you to stay close, understand? This is serious, so no more games.” I tried to impress upon her.
Making myself use his cover identity of Duane, instead of Tom to keep in role, I headed towards where I thought I’d seen him, with Dee in tow.
We just cleared the crowd when I saw him and, for the first time, Rebecca Newton. She was smoking a cigarette, and for me, that was one strike against her. I’d had smoke blown into my face a time too often as a child, and had to kick an addiction I never began when I first got here.
Misty had been a smoker, but I wasn’t. Either because of not having developed the habit to go with the addiction, or maybe because of my physiology, withdrawal, while unpleasant, hadn’t been too hard. None of that had made me fond of people who pretend to be smokestacks.
Walking up to them, there was something else about her that bugged me, almost as if she was familiar somehow.
Tom/Duane smiled as he saw us, but raised his eyebrows at Dee.
“Hi, Duane, we have a party crasher. You remember my niece Deirdre? Oh, Hello, you must be Rebecca. Duane has told us so much about you.” I gushed, laying it on a little thick.
Duane introduced us, “Becky this is Misty. She works for Mr. Roland as a special assistant. Of course I remember Dee. She spent the winter holiday up at Mr. Roland’s Mansion.”
“I’m so glad to finally meet you. Duane has told me what good friends you’ve all been to him.” Rebecca replied. “Duane it’s alright. I remember when I was young and wanting to sneak into parties too. Just remember no alcohol! Excuse me, I need to visit the powder room.
I froze. I knew that voice. The question was, from where?
Stepping close to Tom/Duane, I told him quietly, “There is something up. I don’t know what but I don’t like it.”
He gave me a stern look, replying “Don’t overreact. There are a lot of people here tonight, and some of them are business rivals. It’s natural to be picking up some animosity.”
“Duane, I swear that I want this to go well for you. All I’m doing is warning you that something doesn’t feel right, OK?” I told him. “I’m going to let everyone else know about Dee’s party crashing.”
Smiling again, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” Calling out to someone else he knew, he left us.
Dee touched my arm, “Everything is going to be okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is! We won’t give it a choice. Behave or else,” leading her towards the backdoors outside where so long ago Will had wrenched it right off its hinges.
We’d just made the doors when I saw Anza hurrying towards me.
“Misty we’ve got trouble I can’t mind-touch any of the gang without pushing. It’s like something is giving me resistance, like jamming or something. I didn’t try to touch you because I don’t want to give away any clues to whoever is doing this,” Anza gave Dee a cold look. “Young lady, I don’t know why you’re here, but we will talk about this later.”
“I found Morgan and she’s looking for Will and Mark right now. Did you find Tom?” Anza said with her dark eyes looking for trouble.
“I found him, but he is convinced we’re overreacting, to use his words.” Just then my eyes found Rebecca as she lit up another cigarette. ‘Urk, she must be a chain smoker.’ As I watched the smoke wreath up around her, my brain put two and two together and got, Oh Shit!
Clearing my throat, “Anza, look over at the restroom. Do you see that blond smoking over there? That’s Rebecca Newton. Now, does she remind you of anyone we might have met when our bare bottoms first got here? Think hard dear.” I directed, with no doubts at who she was.
Anza followed my direction and I heard her mutter, “No freaking way! Tom’s fiancée is that anti-gravity stripper bitch?”
She grabbed my hand, “She looks different, but thank Gawd for eidetic memories. Her mannerisms are exactly the same.”
Right. Anza and I were sure, but convince the rest of the gang on just our say so? We needed more proof, and I knew just how to get it.
“Luv, you look after our stowaway, but make sure you keep me on Punked Camera with your phone so you don’t miss the show.” I started walking towards little Miss Trouble.
I heard Anza give a muttered curse as Dee giggled. However I was busy with something else.
“Okay,” I thought at Cape. “Hand it over.”
Cape gave me the most innocent feelings back. I swear it was pretending it had an angelic halo. Not that I believed that for one second. Cape may be one of my best buddies ever, in that same way a beloved dog or cat can be sometimes, but I had learned a few things about it since that fateful day I had appeared stark naked, in a strip club dressing room.
The symbiote attached to my central nervous system is loyal and playful, as well as being a fashion guru and protector. Cape is also a kleptomaniac. Unlike a dog, who can play catch, it will try and take things that don’t belong to me, or it. Cape lets me catch it mostly, but sometimes it doesn’t.
You see, like that dog, Cape holds grudges, but unlike that dog, it can’t bite or bark. So Cape counts coup by taking something valuable from them and, although I might take the item from it from time to time, it always takes it back.
Thinking hard at it, “You heard me, now. It’s important.”
A small rectangular shape fell into my hand.
I gave soothing thoughts at my miffed Cape as I neared my quarry. She was still smoking and, stopping beside her, I directed Cape to drop the object at our feet.
Looking down, I said, “Excuse me Rebecca, but did you drop that?”
A little disdainful, she glanced down. Her eyes widened as she bent down to pick up what I’d pointed out.
Rebecca Newton’s head jerked up, and she gave me a stare of pure hatred, for there, in her hand, was a classic Ronco Lighter. In fact, it was the very one that Cape had snatched from a certain obnoxious witch from Twin Peaks, all those months ago.
She grated out at me, “You’re the bitch that stole it from me.”
I smiled at the angry woman who‘d broken her cover, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re ranting about dear. Thank you, you’ve told me everything I needed to know.” Turning on my heels, I left as fast as was diplomatically possible.
Polar ice ran down my back as I started to put together all the pieces; the weird PSI interference, a disguised mutant with underworld ties who had a close relationship with my friend, and most of all, us, out in the open without our usual support. I flipped out my phone and felt an icy shiver as I saw the red flashing warning “No signal. Possible jamming”.
Anza and I exchanged a look. ‘That’s it, we are so out of here!’ Not bothering with going back inside, we headed for the backyard gate at a near run.
Anza was furious cursing, “That rat bastard set us up!”
Hurrying to the outside back gate, worried about Dee in all of this, I knew she was talking about Tom.
Dee wanted to argue, but my gut was telling me we were running out of time real fast!
A blurred green image of Mike materialized in front of us, “It’s a trap! Get out of there!”
No shit Sherlock! Cape twitched violently in warning and I threw both of my companions to the ground as a roar thundered overhead! Mike’s image popped like a soap bubble, as the mansion’s windows exploded inward!
Even as we were hitting the ground, Cape had me armored. Its voluminous folds covered my friends as Cape transformed the glass, shaping it into baseball size projectiles.
Anza’s clothes melted away as she changed into her new red and gold uniform. I gained my feet and, looking up, I saw the dropships, stolen from ULTIMATE, dropping a horde of black suited mercenaries upon us, even as their onboard weapons raked the windows of Tom’s mansion with gunfire and rockets.
There were at least a dozen figures hitting the ground in the backyard, dropping from the ships above. They were a little surprised that anyone at all was back here, much less a pair of supersuits. Using Cape’s tailoring skills, we had changed my outfit to look like a kind of powered armor with, of course, a large cape. Hoping to give Anza some time to get Dee the hell out of here, I held out my hand, “I wondered when you all were going to get here, shall we dance?” as I slipped on my visor.
Back at our first fight months ago at the Mall, Cape had acted like a CIC, and had picked out my targets for me. Today, all of the hard work we had both put in started to pay off. We weren’t two working together, but one being.
I fired off the first two glass cannon balls that Cape had slipped into my hands. Glass is dense, and I am very strong and fast, so I’ll pass on the damage report as the first two goons fell. What I will tell you, is Cape and I went though the rest of these guys like a chainsaw though a bowl of Jello! Cape snapped out streamers, pulling pins of grenades still attached to the troopers, while others were triggering magazine releases, disarming their weapons. I used my flight to dart among them, using every striking point I had. Fist, elbow, knee, head butt, all taking out their targets, if not in one blow, then another was on the way before they’d even hit the ground.
With Cape to coordinate the two of us, I twisted some of them around so they shot their own comrades, while using others as shields as their grenades started cooking off. I caught a few stray fragments, but the armor stopped it cold.
A few of the guys in the backyard were still moving a few seconds later, but I didn’t think they wanted to play any more. World War Three was going strong inside, and above the mansion, but outside, I was of more use. Already, any support they were expecting from the backyard wasn’t going to happen. A few of Duane’s guests had already found the backyard was an escape route, and were beating feet to get as far away as they could get.
Glancing up, I saw their dropship support was busy at the front of the mansion. The reason why became clear, as a Lexus sedan flew up like a rocket, smashing into one of them, sending it pin wheeling out control. I couldn’t help but wince as it tumbled into a neighboring house, its rotors cutting though the roof like a giant electric knife.
Well, I knew where Will was! Running to where I had last seen Anza and Dee, I passed a half dozen black clad figures with dazed looks, who had their hands up, walking down the street. Yep, she’d come this way!
Rounding the corner, I skidded to a stop. It took me a moment to take in the scene. There were burning cars and bodies all over the place. Some were in the black assault gear of the bad guys, while others were in business suits, I guess from Duane’s security agency. Angry pock marks from the guns and rockets of the dropships scored the entire front.
A ten foot tall Will, in his Renegade hero regalia, had the remains of a car with which he’d been intending to bring down another dropship in his hands. A group of bad guys covering behind another car, had blown it to bits, using all kinds of beams, arcs, and stuff. The two remaining dropships were firing rockets and pouring in gunfire on him!
Esperanza, seeing our friend in trouble, was TK screening him, while she and Dee hid behind a car that was beginning to look like Swiss cheese, from being too close to him. I charged into the five blasters. They didn’t even know I was there until I grabbed the arm of one guy who was blasting away, using some kind of glowing green shit from his hand, and shoved it into his neighbor’s gut.
His scream of agony seized the attention of the rest of them. I’d learned a few things about dealing with people shooting at me point blank, from my fight with the Warder Enigma, and that Gun-Fu of hers. With Cape’s ribbons tangling them up, I managed to put one more down, and got glowing green energy boy to blast another of his buddies. Mr. Electricity figured out that fighting me hand to hand was a really bad idea, and backed away.
Raising his hands, he shouted, “Burn Baby, burn!” as they crackled with power.
Levitating, I grabbed the car frame, hoping it would help conduct most of the charge away. A brilliant flash nearly blinded me, despite my visor!
“Hey, nothing happened!” I gasped as he fell to the ground!
The reason why was soon plain, as Conductress landed lightly. her red hair flying wild from the static as she digested her most recent electrical meal, “Yum!”
Warders! I looked up as Black Hawk smashed the pilot’s canopy of one of the dropships. The swordswoman, Alara, rappelling from the Warder’s V-22, was dicing up another group of Mercs, while Wraith was having her way with yet another group of those damn black-suited goons with the guns. I began to wonder just how many of these bloody guys there were.
Renegade staggered from the barrage, bleeding from attacks Anza couldn’t stop. He scooped up a burning wreck, and clipped the last dropship as it fired on the Warders. Question and Enigma raced for the front door of the mansion.
I checked to see if Esperanza had Dee somewhere safe before starting for the front door myself. Dee was with running away with a group of other refugees. Esperanza was simultaneously protecting them, while implanting commands in the pursuing bad guys to surrender. Good enough for me!
Turning around, I barely had time to slam myself onto the floor, as the entire front of the mansion blew outward into the street! Question pin-wheeled out of control as he flew out, like a victim of a major league batter!
Looking up, I saw a tall brown haired woman in red and silver, with a huge silver mallet in her fist, who, in her follow though, looked like a pro-golfer, having just rung Question’s clock. Patience! Oh my! They did bring out their big guns! She’d been the one to bring down Man Mountain, on that long ago day, at the Battle of the Mall.
The fight was coming to us!
I yelled, “Renegade! I need an assist here!”
I tried a sliding tackle, but she nimbly leaped over me. Cape’s warning let me roll out, as I almost got creamed by her mallet’s return stroke. I closed in, using my training to strike at every vulnerable point within reach.
It was like punching the granite walls back at the Hole, and did about as much good. With my speed, and Cape’s warnings, she couldn’t hit me, but damn she was tough! I just couldn’t hurt this bitch! Then Renegade smashed into her!
I almost gasped as her shiny mallet transformed, quicksilver fast, into a shield that stopped his blow that could have bought down entire buildings. She shield smashed him in the face, but my grabbing the damn thing, as it flowed retransforming back into a mallet, upset her balance.
Patience yelled to her troops, “Recall, Plan Delta! We are leaving!”
I got a backhand in response from her that, despite my blocking, stung like mad! Bloody hell, this bitch was strong!
Renegade, giving a grim smile, cut loose with his full strength, causing even her to fly backwards a couple of paces, shield or no shield.
I reached up to slam her into the ground to set her up for him, when Cape started screaming Red Alert! Hey, I almost made it, but a pair of large hands coming right up out of the street grabbed just one foot I was slow in moving.
The next thing I knew was darkness, as it yanked me underground! Panicked and blind, I fought, but it did no good, as it released me buried alive! Cape covered my mouth, keeping the unwanted stuff out and helping me breathe. I’d done this before, underwater, but never thought to try it underground. It was hard to move, but thrashing and flying I moved in what I hoped was in the right direction to get free.
Suddenly! A light appeared and I could move!
I fell in a filthy awkward heap inside a newly made tunnel, spitting and gasping to breathe, as a dirty girl in a torn skirt hugged me, Dee!
It had to have been Man Mountain. The bastard had spun me around upside down to disorient me. I’d been digging the wrong way to get out.
Hugging her back I knew we needed to get back to the surface, fast.
“Hold on Dee. We’re flying out!”
We zoomed up her rescue tunnel, which was almost 30’ deep. A little voice was telling me she was real lucky not to have hit any underground cables or gas mains, but at long last we flew out onto the street.
Looking up I saw a mob of bad guys charging right at us, like a stampede of buffalo!
I felt Dee holding on for dear life, and leaped upwards as Caped turned black to try to hide us.
“NO Capes!” I heard just as something yanked us down, hard!
Trying to protect Dee, I rolled as I was smashed into the ground.
Cape, trying to do the same, flipped her away from us, as a hand latched onto us, jerking me to my feet.
Patience! I recognized how much trouble I was in. I’d used everything I could think of to stop her, and none of it had worked. No more Ms. nice masked heroine, I did a double strike, meant to break both collar bones, a deadly punch into her throat, and lastly at her nose, with the classic death blow .
Just like with the mythical Mongo, all I did was make her mad! With a dribble of blood from her nose, she gave me a red eyed glare of hate, as that silvery mallet morphed into an enormous, nasty looking, serrated edged, sword. “Get the girl. She’s coming with us!
Lithely, I kicked with both legs into her midsection, but it did me no good, as she struck me with her oversized cleaver.
Pain clawed at my entire body as I rocketed backwards. I half remember some blurred images of startled looks on peoples faces, as I flew though a couple walls. The pain after I crashed, now that I remember all too clearly.
Dee! I rolled onto my back, groaning from the pain. Touching the burning area that reaching from my right shoulder down to my left hip, I clenched my teeth. Expecting to see blood, I was amazed to find only a tickle. Cape twitched weakly underneath me, and I knew I wasn’t the only one hurt.
I heard my phone ringing, so the jamming must have ended, but I was hurting too damn much to move.
“Misty where are you? Are you alright” Anza’s worried voice carried over our bond/link. I guess the mental interference thingie was over too.
Moaning I told her, “Just follow the line of holes though the walls. No, I’m not, to question number two.”
“Anza! They got Dee!” I projected back at her, as I pushed some debris aside.
“Hang on, I’m on my way.” her concern flowed over our link/bond.
I shoved myself up to examine our wound, Yeah that’s right, our wound. Cape’s welfare and health was as precious to me as my own, or Anza’s. Maybe a bit like the family dog that is a much part of the family as any human in it. Okay, more so, since this one shared my central nervous system, and who knew what else, but certainly no less.
The stroke that was meant to cleave me in two had left a ragged gouge that had some thin rivulets of blood running down my torso. Cape was slowly healing itself, for, as I watched, the armor started to once more become whole.
Using the damaged, hazardously leaning wall to help me stand, I was aware of a lesson here. I had tried to kill Patience. Driven by my desire to try and protect Dee, I had thrown everything I had at the Bitch. I staggered a few steps to where I could see fires burning. Patience had returned the intention, and came a lot closer to succeeding than I had.
‘She had made two mistakes though’, an icy thought burned though me. One, the bitch hadn’t made sure of the job. Yeah I know she’d been in a hurry, but there are no excuses for sloppy work. Two, she’d taken someone to whom I had given my word that I would love and protect them.
Anza landed lightly beside me, and I relaxed, wincing as I felt her TK cradle me.
“Oh, Misty love, you’re a mess,” she said, as she kissed my forehead gently.
With my link/bond to her I sensed her powers reaching into me, searching for damage, and the tingles where they eased the hurt.
Glazing up into her dark eyes, her face was just dirty and worried as mine.
“Hello Nurse,” I greeted her weakly trying vainly to sound flippant. “What’s going on now? Where are they now?”
Her eyebrows knitted together, “First of all you’re going to be fine. I don’t know how you stood with a busted shoulder, not to mention not one, but two, broken ribs with another badly bruised. Your own healing has taken care of the cuts and the other contusions.”
Shaking my head at her, I answered, “I didn’t ask that, and you are not telling me, is all I need to know.”
“I love her too, you damn idiot! You want to know what’s happening? Fine! ULTIMATE is on the way, and they ordered Question to stand down and not pursue. Tom, the Bastard, stormed off and left when Morgan confronted him with what we found out about his fiancée. The Syndicate Enforcers took off to the east, stealing whatever vehicles they could find, since we smashed up their rides.”
“With Dee,” I added.
“Yes with Dee, and a handful of other hostages, Damn you,” she cursed angrily at me.
Meanwhile she’d flown us back to the battle zone that had once been a prosperous upper class neighborhood. Shell shocked people stumbled from their wrecked homes, watching with wide eyes and seeing the bodies of mercenaries and innocents lying in the cratered street, as the fires illuminated the entire grim scene.
A few emergency vehicles were already on the scene, while others were starting to arrive. The guys, minus Tom, had retrieved our vehicles from the valets. It wouldn’t do for them to be to carefully examined after all.
Question was waiting for us as we landed.
“I’m sorry about the girl being taken, but we’ve been requested to not pursue,” Question told me, and even with his mask on, I could feel his sour feelings about the matter.
I closed my eyes, readying myself for what was to come, “You do what you feel you need to do.”
Anza, with her voice full of worry, said, “Please don’t, love.”
Sighing and shaking my head, “I have to. Too many others have already let Dee down. I won‘t be the next.”
I almost cringed at the hurt in her dark eyes, as she released her powers, letting me stand wobbly on my own.
Question looked from one of us to the other, “You’re going after her?”
I ignored him, seeking within myself the warm emotion I got when watching Dee smile, or when her face glowed with happiness. When we’d first met, I could only read her with my empathy upon touch, but we’d grown as close as sisters, or maybe as mother and daughter, could be. I could feel Dee’s heart and soul through my empathy with her, and my heart showed me the way I had to go.
Cape had been silent since our injury, but now I could feel its own agreement and support.
Behind me, I heard the ringing chimes of Lady Diamond’s crystalline foot steps coming toward us.
“Aren’t you going to try to talk some sense into her?” Question asked her.
“Why waste breath trying to give an order I know won’t be obeyed? Besides, I more than half agree with her. You and the Warders have done much for us, and we appreciate that more than you all will ever know. However, this entire mission objective was for us to find, and take out, the Syndicate headquarters with one sledgehammer blow, while operating in secret.
“I don’t know how our cover was blown, but it definitely was,” Lady Diamond pointed out, as she waved a hand at the carnage around us. “If Streeter was responsible for this I‘ll kill him myself. No matter how they knew, this was an all out attack to take us out. No way they would’ve brought this many for just an attack on a party. They knew. If not for your people, they might have succeeded.
“Their plan failed, but any chance of us surprising them is gone. We finish this and we do it now. I know you have to live with the consequences of what happened here tonight while, win or lose, we don’t know what will happen to us. Like the woman said, do what you feel you need to, and so will we.” She finished, and walked over to me.
“Do you know which way?” my friend softly asked me.
I nodded, and Cape lifted us up in flight, as we soared towards where a scared young girl waited for rescue.
Enigma walked to where Question was watching the self-named Chevaliers leave.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked indicating the five departing heroes with a toss of her head.
The tall masked man in red and white looked about himself at the catastrophe that had wrecked this neighborhood. This was the very kind of disaster he’d spent his life trying to prevent.
Looking down at his feet, he spotted one of the weapons the attackers had carried, an AK-47. One of the most common assault rifles in the world. Why mess with a classic, considering it did what it was designed to do very well? The problem was that this one was here in his town. Very deliberately he bought his foot down and, using his power, multiplied his mass till the stamped metal crunched like a empty beer can.
“Flack it,” he cursed. Hitting his mike, “George, this is Question. Relay this message to ULTIMATE for me, will you? ‘Request denied!’ You got that?”
“No problem, Mon! T’will be my pleasure!” replied the unseen, grinning Caribbean pilot.
“Attention all Warders, rally on me! We’re dusting off! You got that George?”
Raising an aristocratic brow, Enigma asked, “We hunt?”
Acknowledging their pilot’s reply, he turned to her, “Damn Straight!”
Her own shout of, “About bloody time!” was lost in the thunder, as their team’s V-22 dropped lower for them to board.
Colonel Geoff Stone grabbed his old mentor’s arm, “They’re too far away. Before you could get there it’ll be over.
Major Victory gave his former student a determined look, “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Reid, have the robots prep Fifi for an emergency combat launch, Code Omega.”
“Geoff, I have to try. This mission is coming apart, and I have to be there, not just for Morgan, but for the rest of them too,” the old hero said, grabbing the flight bag that Mr. Chang had materialized at the door with, and had held out for him.
The SAS colonel watched the door slam shut. With a muttered curse he snatched up his own Kit bag, that far too many years at being on the sharp end, had made him make sure it was always kept ready.
Mr. Chang, always the professional, asked, “And you sir?”
On the run as he hit the door, the Colonel yelled, “To the sound of the Guns! Reid, start turning rotors!”
Stepping outside, watching the two old warhorses run towards battle, he nodded his head, and a hand of black clad ninja-commandos joined the Colonel in his race to the Chevalier’s helicopter, which was already powering up.
He knew he was too old to go rushing off into combat, even as his heart tightened, concerned for those he’d grown to love like his own family, and the dangers they faced. Pushing the emotion aside, he opened his phone. There was still much he could do to aid them.
Heroes of Justice: With your Shield, or On it!
Cape had recovered enough to harden parts of itself to create a cast-like effect that made it a little easier and less painful to breathe, but not much. I heal very fast, but unfortunately not as fast as that Wolfie guy in the comic books, who heals nearly as fast as he can be harmed.
Concentrating on which way to go, I completely missed Mike riding beside me, sitting cross-legged on a green, glowing, flying carpet. I did the classic double-take, but somehow kept my mouth closed.
I yelled, “What do you want?”
“Are you crazy? You’re hurt, and Streeter has taken off!” Mike shouted back, over the wind.
Not turning my head, “I don’t care! They’ve got Dee, and anyone who gets in my way had better finish the job this time!”
Mike ducked around a wreck, “How about letting them catch up?”
Glancing behind me I saw Lady Diamond’s bike, Esperanza in Flower-Power and the boys in their pickup weaving in and out of the wrecks trying to catch up.
“Let’em try harder.” I said, looking forward.
Mike grinned, “I just knew you were going to say something like that. Here. This is for you.” he said, shoving a green box he’d pulled from nothingness, into my hands.
“This will get you back on your feet, but only for three hours. Then you’ll crash, big time. You got me?” He yanked his carpet around a light pole just in time.
“I got it!” yelling back at him over the roar.
“I’ll be around. Ciao!” Mike yelled back and then, in a green flash, he was gone.
I admit I felt warm and comforted, knowing my friends were with me, but it was Dee who was foremost in my mind.
With a banshee wail, a siren cut loose behind me from Renegade’s truck, and the roll-bar mounted lights started flashing red, blue and amber. When they’d had added that toy I didn’t know if it was a good idea, but despite my misgivings, the sirens were having a positive effect. People were getting out of the way, thinking we were some kind of emergency vehicles.
Looking down the street, part of me was wondering why I even bothered to try and track Dee with my empathy, when it was so easy to see the path the bad guys had left behind them. With a complete disregard for trying to fit in, they had driven their stolen vehicles like something from a demolition derby. You could see the path of wrecked cars and trucks that marked a trail even the blind could follow.
Anza had Flower-Power’s pedal floored, and I heard the whine of the turbo as she went airborne over dips in the street. I had only a vague idea of how fast we were going as she edged next to me. My top flight speed now was around 125 mph/200 kph, but Cape and I were pushing this as hard as we could.
They had at least a couple minutes on us, but unlike them, we had a mostly clear road in front of us. We had a lot of ground to make up, and we needed to do it fast. I saw one or two wrecks that looked if they’d been the ones we’d been chasing, but it appeared the bad guys had just hijacked another car, and continued escaping.
I was half afraid to look over at her. I knew how much I’d hurt her with my refusal to wait, because of my injuries.
Yelling over the wind at me, I heard, “Get in, you beautiful idiot!”
Okay, the idiot part meant she was still mad at me, but the ‘beautiful’ was pure love to my ears. Mindful of my injuries, I timed the bumps just so, to manage as smooth a dock as any NASA space shuttle pilot.
“What did Mr. Wizard want,?” Anza asked, as I turned back on my communicator.
“He was making a delivery,” I told her, as I unwrapped the box.
Inside, cushioned by green paper, was a old fashioned bottle that was, surprise, green. It had an cork instead of a cap and had a tag attached with a piece of string. Letting the wind rip the empty box and paper from my hands, I looked at the tag.
I had an hard time reading it in the flickering lights as we raced along, but it read, “Drink me!”
“What is it?” she asked, as we saw what must be our bad guys, since they were running without lights.
“Stimulant, I think. He said it’ll put me back on my feet, but I’ll know it in about three hours,” I explained.
We passed the first of the Syndicate henchmen, and it was funny seeing the looks on their faces as the two chicks in the pink VW roared by their stolen SUV. That didn’t last long, as they struck the barrels of weapons out and began blasting away at us.
With a sigh, I pulled out the cork and tipped up the bottle. Mike was a traditionalist it seemed. His potion tasted just as bad as it was supposed to be good for you. It was just plain nasty tasting, feeling, and, gagging, I fought to keep it down.
Anza was weaving dangerously, as bullets were bouncing all about us. “Are you okay?”
A warm glow swam over me, and I realized I didn’t hurt any more, “Yeah! Hold on! I’ll be right back.”
I hovered out and, let a revitalized Cape drag chute me right into their windshield, boots first. Passing though it, Cape and I let loose with a flurry of blows and crashed out of the rear hatch window.
Anza must have used her TK power to keep it from wrecking, because it just glided to a stop. I pulled up and accelerated to catch back up, as Lady Diamond and the guys were neck and neck with us, now.
Rather dryly, Lady Diamond yelled over the wind's roar, “Are you back with us now, or are you still trying to be the Lonesome Ranger?”
“I’m back,” I answered, biting back an explanation. There’ll be time for that later, but now was a time for speed. I pulled myself back into Flower-Power, knowing that Anza could push the car faster than I could fly. That is if it didn’t fly apart! She canna’ take it, Captain!
“Can you do that again Mystery? That seems the best way to take out these Tail End Charlies, with Esperanza playing short stop.” Lady Diamond asked.
“Yeah. Mike gave me some kind of potion and I’m feeling no pain. According to him the down side is, I got three hours before I auger in hard,.” That reminded to do something.
Reaching down for my phone, I set the timer for a vibration alarm in two hours and fifty minutes. I hoped that five minutes would leave enough time for me to reach something soft.
Unlike the last group that was surprised anyone was chasing them, the ones we were closing on had formed two columns that let them shoot back at us. The bad news was, I just wasn’t fast enough to overtake without taking some hits. Yeah, bullets mostly bounce off, but damn it, they still hurt!
We were still working out a plan, when a bolt of electricity arced from one of the SUVs to somewhere over our heads. With its power dead, the big vehicle rammed into a parked car. Looking over our heads we saw the Warders! Conductress was hanging out the open door, calling the vehicle’s electrical power to her.
This time Anza was ready, and used her TK to brake the drained vehicle before it could crash. Another truck load of Mercs soon followed. Ahead were the ones we wanted a limo, a sports car and a couple more SUVs as escorts.
Lady Diamond had gotten Reid to add the Warders to our communications network, something that, in hindsight should’ve already happened. We were still working out a plan when the unexpected occurred.
A pair of ULTIMATE dropships dropped beside the Warder’s V-22, while two more took up position behind us. Just for icing on the cake, another was in front with its rear ramp lowered, with Reaction Team One standing upon it.
“This is Lt. Colonel Benjamin Hostler! Since you ignored my request, you are ordered to stand down and land immediately! Do I make myself understood?” we overheard on our joined comm-net.
A pair of loudspeakers on the dropship ahead of us blared out, “Stop your vehicles at once! You are under arrest! If you don’t immediately comply, deadly force will be used!”
A vicious hard piece of anger started smoldering in me as I watched Dee’s kidnappers race away. There was no way in hell this was anything but a deliberate act to let them get away!
I was about to make some really pointed remarks, when Question beat me to it.
“Colonel Hostler you are interfering with a lawful pursuit of dangerous felons. WE have no choice but to assume you are being coerced, either by mental domination, or other means, since you are allowing them to escape. As to our allies, you don’t have the clearance or the need to know. So get out of our way or be moved! Question out!”
We got our answer, as a burst of gatling gunfire from a dropship tore the guy’s pickup into confetti! From the resulting fireball, a huge eagle like-bird flew upwards with a very pissed off, smoldering werewolf in its claws. Lady Diamond had her own problems, as a tornado of bullets from another dropship’s gatling gun was tearing up the street behind her bike. She was madly trying to avoid its deadly teeth as yet another fired at her.
Suddenly the fire stopped, as that dropship’s port engine exploded as a rain of hammer blows from four 20mm cannons shredded it. With a lurch, it slammed into the buildings lining the street, while its rotors lashed the street before crumpling into ruin themselves.
With a roar, a vintage F8U Dragonfly flashed though the remaining five dropships at over 500 mph. Major Victory! Damn if I didn’t feel like cheering or something. One of the two dropships dealing with the Warders went after him, while George, their pilot, banked violently, spraying decoy flares to avoid a missile fired from the other.
Team One leaped into fray as their brick, Number Five, landed with such force Lady Diamond lost control of her bike in the resulting mini-earthquake. Laying down her Harley in a shower of sparks, she blasted off a few beams at the big guy with seemingly little effect. Renegade dropped Wolfen on the dreadlock coiffeured brick from above, before transforming himself back his human form, 30‘ up.
Lucky us had escaped the gunfire, but now had three of Team One on top of us. Number Three, their blaster, cut loose with a sonic blast that Anza stopped with her TK screen. Number One, their leader and gadget master, fired something at us that hit Flower-Power and, in a arcing web of sparks, killed our power. Hey, I know I’ve complained about having a chick car, but that was our car!
Anza shared my feelings, as her eyes lit up with her anger. A psychic bolt struck Number One, who screamed as her nervous system was overloaded, right before she flew straight into a brick building with a resounding crash!
Meanwhile I was dancing again with Number Four, the former criminal with the golden hair this time. Half flying and half hanging onto our coasting, power-fried, Flower-Power car, I had a fight on my hands. Like me, she was a fast brick, and was just as tough to fight as Enigma, because she could change herself from a mist-like form, to one as hard as steel. She could also alter her size, and was making good use of it to give me a hard time.
I heard, “Mystery! Drop!”
Rolling to the ground, I saw a bolt of lightning fly over my head. Number Four spasmed and fell into Flower-Power‘s backseat in a boneless heap.
Conductress landed next to me, “Someone should have warned her, gold is very conductive.”
“Step lively,” I yelled, as I swung her out of the way of a blast of ultrasonics that pulverized the pavement where she’d been standing.
She fired another electrical bolt back at Number Three, but it went right though him. Damn another one of those ghosts!
I did my best to keep him busy, but with him ghosting out, I couldn’t lay a glove on him. The good news was, he couldn’t seem to generate one of his sound blasts unless he was solid, so it was a standoff.
From a corner of my eye I saw a squad of those power armor guys rolling on the ground, squirming like crazy as soon as they crawled out of their wrecked transport. I was wondering what was up with them until I heard Anza command them, “Ever have an itch you can’t scratch? Itch!”
I knew my lover had an evil sense of humor, but that? Shudder. No matter her methods, she’d kept the troopers off of us. Renegade, falling from above had pile driven Number Five so far into the pavement I think he ended up in the sewers. Wolfen was sparing with Number Two, Team One’s Martial Artist. The nunchaku armed ULTIMATE officer was doing a very effective job of keeping my snarling teammate at bay.
“Wolfen switch,!” I shouted.
He leaped towards me and I ran at him. Cape did our color shifting, chameleon thing again and Number Two, with his eyes fixed on Wolfen as he chased him, never saw what hit him as I came in from underneath.
A second later I made sure he stayed down for the count. Number Three, startled by the drooling snarling Wolfen in his face, never noticed the woman in white behind him who stepped into phase with him and pistol whipped him into unconsciousness. It takes a ghost to take another one out I guess.
The street erupted, sending both Warders flying as Number Five, covered in nasty and unmentionable stuff, came up out of the street! The cloud of steaming gases and the falling bits of asphalt, masonry, and piping gave the impression of an erupting volcano. Oh, and the smell! Man was he mad! Reaching down, he peeled up a sedan sized section of the street and sent it spinning at us like a huge Frisbee!
While I was leaping over that, Cape grabbed my attention, pointing at the dropship that had gotten into firing position. “Oh Crap! Incoming!” I yelled, as it sent a horde of rockets at us. It seemed as if the entire street burst into a hurricane of flying razors and fire! I threw myself upon the ground, seeking sanctuary.
Peering up into that hell, I saw Esperanza’s force screen covering Enigma and Conductress. Question, with his face shielded by an arm, just leaned into the maelstrom as if it was nothing more than a extremely unpleasant, driving rain. As Renegade tried to find something he could throw at the gunships, he got slammed backwards by another huge piece of asphalt and rock that came flying our way. Damn it, Number Five!
Another dropship joined the first, and damn, if it didn’t look like they were going to join the turkey shoot, Crap! We were getting hammered!
Lady Diamond’s voice crackled over our tactical radios, “Chevaliers! Cover-up and lay low! Wolfen draw those damn things towards me, down Cockrum Drive.”
Cape did its camouflage thing and I saw Esperanza showing her stuff by TKing debris about the little group sheltering with her, making them look like a lifeless lump. I couldn’t see anyone else with all the smoke and dust being kicked up. Must be too much crap in the air for Diamond’s Lasers. It was a tough call, having Wolfen play fox to the ULTIMATE’s hounds, but he was the best choice, given his nigh invulnerability to everything but silver that is. Here’s hoping none of those things have any onboard!
With a howl that cut though even the chaos of the explosions, Wolfen charged Number Five! Madly dodging the rockets and cannon fire, while leaping over the smoking craters in the street, he covered the distance in the span of only a breath or two.
Team One’s brick braced himself to grapple with the lycanthrope, but staggered back surprised when a manhole cover, sailed by the snarling Were, hitting him in the chest. With a ringing sledgehammer loud, the heavy steel plate pounded into Number Five, half-spinning him around. Question, after his near perfect discus throw, rolled away as the smoky trail of a missile flew at him from a covering dropship.
Wolfen pounced upon him and vaulted upwards at the strafing dropships, using Number Five’s face as a springboard! Both Dropships broke off as the slavering, angry Wolfen suddenly flew at them.
He didn’t come all that close to them, but Wolfen definitely got their attention. Caught in their rotor’s downdrafts, he spun out of control, landing in an awkward heap. Shaking himself as he healed from his fall, the huge canine’s ears perked up. Twisting around in the air to see where the werewolf had gone, the dropships found their prey.
Dodging the hurricane of cannon fire, Wolfen raced down the street with his tail tucked in tight, as yet another dropship joined in. Yipping in dismay, as the gunfire peppered him with hot shrapnel, he skidded, trying to evade them. I heard Lady Diamond order him to turn the corner, as bright beams shot out from same ragged masonry hole Number One had made in her uncontrolled crash. The intense rays severed the first ship’s rear fuselage. Half out of control, it hit the ground in a shower of sparks and skidded, as its deadly rotors whipped about.
I lost sight of the other two, but looked in the direction the long gone kidnappers had gone with Dee. However, I knew Number Five had to go down. He was trying to rally these guys, and we didn’t need that.
“Go!” Question yelled, as he passed me rushing Number Five. “We can take care of this. Don’t lose the trail. Look for Wraith!”
He swung around the big Team One brick, and rocked him backwards with a right. Renegade, charging, slammed him back into Question. Like a pair of cats, they played a game of bat the mousie with him.
Renegade added in his two cents, “Misty, we’ve got this. Do what the man says, Go!”
Anza was busy keeping yet another group of ULTIMATE troopers busy, trying to get at an itch that was all in their minds. Lady Diamond was busy trying to down the dropship still chasing the werewolf, and Major Victory was dog fighting more above us.
Closing my eyes and breathing in deep, I tried to reach out to Dee. Instead of that brightness that I knew was her, I felt a heavy cloudy feeling. This time I knew it was that damnable mental interference, or PSI jamming, as Anza called it.
Helplessly wondering what the hell to do now, standing in the middle of World War Three, I caught the sight of salvation. Above the twisting, turning, aerial battle of dropships, and heroes there was one solitary V-22 Osprey staying out of the action.
Hostler! That had to be his command ship. If there was ever any doubt that he was our traitor, they were all gone now, with the way he had let them escape. If anyone knew just where Dee was being taken, it was him. With a great leap, Cape and I rocketed upwards. We had a few questions for Lt. Colonel Benjamin Hostler.
His command V-22 broke off, going evasive as the pilots saw us. Given time, they could just out run me. I wasn’t going to give them the chance. The ramp’s gunner sent a stream of tracers and lead at me. I ducked under the ship’s fuselage, out of the gunner’s field of fire. Acting with perfect coordination, Cape whipped a ribbon up to the ramp. Lightning fast, I slingshotted upward, somersaulting into the VTOL. Seeing the gunner had remembered his safety gear, I simply tossed him off the side, letting him dangle by his harness.
I couldn’t help smiling as I saw dear Colonel Hostler. He, his staff, and the short squad of Power-Armor troopers, were being bounced around like a tennis-ball inside a dryer, as the command ship pilots yanked, and banked, trying to avoid the threat, me, not knowing it was just a little too late.
Cape had me anchored down nice and tight, using the same streamers it had pulled me in with. With all the extra communications gear, they only had room for five of those suits, but in theory they were the cream of the crop, there only to provide added security for their commander. They proved it by not even trying to use that formidable array of weapons they packed, because they were just as likely to fill their own ride full of holes as hit me, the way it was juking and jiving.
In a single mass they charged me. If they could get me off the ship, then it could bring its own weapons to bear. Five months ago that might had worked, but, sorry boys and girls, not today. I couldn’t help thinking of an one liner I’d read long ago. “Goons! And they’re all mine!”
The first reached me, and I stiffed armed him to arrest his movement, while more of Cape’s ribbons flowed to the bungee rope-like quick deployment system. These Power-Armor suits had cold-gas jump-jets that would help one survive a fall, but had a limited fuel supply, which was why they had the quick deployment system. Right now they were more than willing to take the fall to get rid of me. Hooking the static line to the suit, Cape prepared another, as I used a Aikido move to sling the hapless leading trooper off into the void.
While I’ll never be in Streeter’s class for speed and reaction times, I was more than a match for even a power-armor enhanced normal. With a twisting judo move, the next two followed the first. The fourth slid some kind of sword blade from his armor’s gauntlets. Cape wrapped around it, and I Aikido threw him out, with a twist. The last one, I just picked up and tossed out, like a bouncer at a nightclub. I glanced over the edge of the ramp at the dangling suits and gunner. Just as I expected, the pilots had finally noticed all of that aerodynamic drag, and that they had a visitor. Sooner or later the troopers would cut themselves loose, but that did give me a few seconds to do what I’d come to do.
Speaking of which Colonel Hostler had pulled his sidearm, and I saw two more crewmen who, I guess, were part of his support staff.
In a flash, I moved to them, “Colonel Hostler, tell your men to drop their weapons. YOU are the one I want to talk to, and you know why. I won’t harm them unless I’m forced. Which is it going to be?” I told him, looking into his eyes.
He flinched, but told them, “Put down your weapons. We don’t have anything that would hurt IT anyway. What do you want mutant?”
Raising an eyebrow, “Mutant I may or may not be, but the question for today is, is that worse than being a traitor?” Cape changed my supersuit back to my original, stylistic, medieval armor look. With a quirk of my lips I asked, “Isn’t it? Too bad for you, you stumbled into someone else’s official operation. Sting. You‘re it.”
I heard his staff gasp as I made my accusations.
One of his men sneered back, “The Mu-taint bitch’s lips is moving, she’s lying!“
He growled back, “At ease, Chief! We’re professionals. Act like it.”
I however, saw the truth in his eyes. What’s more, I could tell, from what I was ‘feeling,’ that he wasn’t going to tell me what I wanted to know anytime soon. That was bad, because Dee was being taken further away every minute.
Pushing though the foggy resistance of that mental interference, I used my bond/link to call my beloved. She had used my hands and eyes before, to aid a badly injured man and now I asked if she could read this traitor’s mind, using me as a conduit.
Quicksilver fast, we shared thoughts. It would reveal exactly where she was, to any who were sensitive. Right now, even her mental domination commands, such as that which incapacitated those Power-Armor suits, weren’t working any too well.
I replied that anyone with ears and eyes could see, and hear, the explosions. If whomever out there could overcome her, we were all screwed anyway, seeing how our careful plans had already come apart. She agreed, and for the first time, Esperanza unleashed her full powers.
Colonel Hostler jerked backward in fear. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but I heard my lips say. “Little man, its time for truth and consequences.”
Then the world came undone. The dam of reality broke loose, and I was dragged along, as my beloved ruthlessly drove into his mind. It only took an instant, but lasted an eternity. Just how long is a single instant of eternity? He did have some sort of protection for his mind, but Anza shattered it like a pane of fragile glass. If his protections had been weak, what laid in waiting within wasn’t. A dark, malevolent power awoke.
It was yet another of those things that defy the power of words to describe. I truly don’t know how to. IF I was forced to, the best way was to say what it wasn’t. It wasn’t another telepath using Hostler as a puppet. Maybe it was more a splinter of something black, and full of evil that had taken up residence in his mind, like a virus of the psyche. Whatever it was reacted like a pit of rattlesnakes when we dropped in. My lover and IT threw themselves at each other in wild abandon, like instinctive enemies.
Esperanza, and that twisty black nastiness fought a battle that, once again, was something I could never describe. Mystery, my role-playing character, had never been telepathic, only empathic. However, that fictional character had never fallen in love with a powerful telepath, or lived as I had the last few months. As they fought, I found I had free-will in this strange place in this man’s head. I knew what I wanted, and somehow I flew towards it. There it was! I had visualized it as a file folder, and there it was. I reached out for it.
No more had I touched it, when a tentacled, spiraling mass split off from whatever Esperanza was wrestling with. Like some primordial creature, it latched onto that file and fought to take it from me. It’s impossible for me to tell anyone how I did it, but I somehow I snatched what I wanted to know about more than anything else in the world, from within that file. Anza somehow knew I had what we sought, and pulled us free, even as that thing snapped at our heels.
Oh Gawd, my head hurt, but who was that screaming? Blinking away the pounding headache, the answers I had grabbed came to me. Pictures of a woman and child, and a sick worried feeling for them, along with an image of ship at dock, and a chained dog. Not sure what that meant, but it could mean his family was being threatened. The ship and dog were the clues I wanted.
Anza’s sweet voice said within my mind, “Are you alright? Did you get what we needed?”
Even thinking seemed to hurt, but I replied, “I got something love, and yes, I’m fine. The next time I ask for you to do that, you have my permission to slap me, hard!”
The VTOL shuddered, and I forced my eyes open past the stabbing pain. Hostler’s eyes were rolled back into his head, but his staff and the pilots were convulsing and screaming! Oh bloody hell! I had thought that thing in Colonel Hostler’s head had just attacked us, but the be-damned thing had hit the entire ship!
I leaped for the cockpit. Razor sharp claws, courtesy of Cape, cut his harness, and I pulled the epileptic ULTIMATE pilot free. Vaulting into his seat, my boots barely touched the rudder pedals. Argh, sometimes it sucks to be small! Scooting forward to reach the controls, Cape kept me from sliding by wrapping itself about me and the seat.
Scanning the huge bank of instruments in front of me, I was dumbfounded. The helicopter, and the old war bird I flew, didn’t help me at all at finding the information I really needed right now. Okay, back to basics, stick and rudder. I fought the controls to regain stable flight.
“Reid, I need assistance! Please respond!” I pleaded. Looking out of the cockpit windows, I could see the rotors were in mid transition. That is, neither in hover, or level flight. Okay. I need to get this thing into hover and land it.
“This is Reid. What is the nature of your emergency?” the AI responded statically though the interference.
‘That’s it. I’m not letting Reid talk Star Tripping with Anza anymore, dang it’. “Reid, I’m sitting behind the controls of an out of control V-22. How do I put this thing into hover?”
Reid was all business. “Affirmative, Center console. Just above engine throttles is the auto-pilot. Hit the engage.”
My faster than human responses were a life saver. “Affirmative. Auto-pilot engaged.”
The pitching V-22 eased into a hover, as I breathed a relieved sigh.
“Mystery. The system is designed to keep the aircraft in a stable hover while the troops are deployed. To land from this point … ,” Reid was saying, but Cape was urgently tapping on my shoulder. Looking behind me, I saw that Colonel Hostler had somehow regained consciousness and, as I looked, he snapped on the static line and leaped out, Damn it!
I only half paid attention the rest of Reid’s instructions, but it was enough to get the thing on the ground. The tricky part was making sure none those I had left dangling out the ramp, got caught underneath as I landed. But, of course, Hostler was long gone. At least this V-22’s crew would live to fight another day, maybe even against the right enemy this time.
In the distance, I could see the power-armor monkeys I had given the boot to were closing in fast. They could worry about the crew. I had wasted too much time with this as it was, but I knew where to start looking now. Yeah, chained up dogs and a ship at the port.
With a leap Cape and I soared toward where I hoped, with all my heart, I would find Dee alive and well.
With an audible rustle, his parchment dry skin crinkled as he smiled. His attendants, chained about him, turned their heads away in fear, at the sight of it. Normally he would take pleasure from their reactions, but right now he was very displeased. Dispelling the defensive energies that prevented those with second sight or their technical equivalents from tracking his minions, the chilling necromantic energies slithered and flowed back inside their pyramidal prison.
This was twice that Patience had failed him in this matter. Before the next step of the great plan could begin, this city’s heroes needed to be either crushed or turned. These newcomers had interfered with both aims. If that wasn’t enough, it seemed an ‘Old Friend’ had become involved. That, in itself, was enough reason to give them his full attention.
In this case however, the Dark Lord had also warned that these others would seek to stop the grand design. There were not many things left in the universe that he truly feared. The Dark Lord, and the power he had to send him back to the endless void where he’d been exiled to, was one of them.
He raised his skull like visage, hearing the sounds of his combat commander returning. The scent of fresh young souls was on the air, and he knew it was a gambit on her part, to take the edge off his anger. This time she would be quite mistaken.
The pleasures he’d taken in her humiliation and her ability to withstand injuries that would kill or maim any lesser being, had made her one of his favorites, but when her incompetence threatened to bring the Dark Lord’s wrath upon him, enough was enough.
Dear, loyal Blight, was standing at his side, just as he had all those many years ago, when both of them had worn different flesh. For his loyal service, he’d been rewarded with the body of a young god that hadn’t been appreciated nearly enough by its former owner.
That made him consider, not for the first time, maybe it was time for him to change shells as well. No matter where his essence was housed, his nature soon drained and used it up. It was true, Patience had an extraordinary resilient body and a truly amazing array of powers, but to be a weak woman? Not of the body perhaps, but weak just the same. Just witness her recent failures. He thought about taking Blight’s, but although it was young and strong, it was still only a normal human. It wouldn’t be sturdy enough to support him for long.
Still it was annoying to be encased in a dried out husk. Yes, the more he thought about it the more enthralled with it he became. Yes, he would be wearing female flesh, but he would still be himself. To be young again was a powerful lure.
It was true that events appeared to be coming to a crisis, and he knew only too well how his “Old Friend’s” mere presence could cause even the most foolproof plans to unravel. However, this time he did have the guest dear Blight had found and invited, to call on, if things truly fell apart.
Was it worth it to be young once more he mused? As always, there would be a short time of weakness, but the fresh souls that were coming would quickly re-energize him. To have a strong young vital body to participate in the coming battle, and to guarantee the victory over his ‘Old Friend,’ would indeed be a sweet drink of revenge for past transgressions.
As Patience climbed the steps, her heart nearly froze in her chest, seeing the Master’s ‘attendants’ cringing in fear. That was a very bad sign. Upon seeing the rictus-like smile on his face, her blood drained from her face, and she grew faint as he beckoned her to him.
Trying to keep her composure, her hand stealthy dropped to her Omni-staff. She was determined not go out without a fight, even one as hopeless as this would be. Praying it wouldn’t be needed, Patience slipped her weapon into her hand.
Looking up at her Master, her courage failed her as his terrible laughter began.
Heroes of Justice: Abandon Hope All Ye…
This time I tried to exercise a little more subtlety, and had Cape keep us in chameleon mode as I zoomed down the street. The sounds of battle were fading behind me, but I had to gain a little altitude, because I was starting to see normal traffic.
Nearing the docks and port area, I knew I had to be close. We had narrowed this area down as one of the likely areas for the Syndicate headquarters. I know its being near the docks is almost cliché, but it wasn’t an open and shut kind of thing. Based on our maps, where we’d plotted out every crime and sighting, the damn thing seemed to move around.
Like emerging from a bank of fog, I came out of that mental interference. With no obvious signs to follow, I was back to following my instincts, and my clues from Hostler. Closing my eyes, I used my powers to reach for Dee once more. With a sigh, I found her aura. Silly me remembered a quote I’d heard from somewhere “If you follow your heart you can’t go wrong.” Praying that was so, I followed where it was pulling me.
We had covertly checked out trucks and RV’s in the suspected area’s, but still hadn’t come up with a with even a SWAG (Scientific Wild Ass Guess) to explain what was going on. This time I had a little more to go on, thanks to Colonel Hostler.
I seemed to be heading towards one of those large container ships. Not one of the huge seafaring monsters of the type, but still damn big. The area around it was fenced off, and it sure seemed to have a lot of activity. Problem was, I didn’t see any chained up dogs.
Considering this was the last stop before hitting the bay, I decided to circle around and triangulate. This had to be it, that is unless they’d taken Dee on a submarine! Nope. I told myself, this is it, as I slowly circled, keeping as stealthy as I could. Drifting closer, I finally was able to make out the vessel’s name, The Cerberus. Bingo!
Pulling away towards a local bar because it had the nearest crowd I could find, I flipped out my phone to let everyone else know. Not wanting to trigger that weird mental interference and radio jamming thing, I wanted to keep this short and sweet. Instead of reaching Reid, I got his voicemail. Not surprising. The systems were busy, I guess, with all the chaos happening tonight. Cursing under my breath, I left a message.
“I’ve located Pluto’s dog as an object of interest. I’m going to go to the wharf and take a look. Please hurry, if you don’t want to miss the beginning of the show.”
There! I’d sent out the news and was really hoping I was being overly paranoid. So far the bad guys’ only mistakes had been underestimating us. That was why I didn’t use the radio function, and didn’t use the ship’s actual name. Hoping I wasn’t screwing up by the numbers, I knew the next part was going to be anything but easy.
Being as careful as I could, I sneaked in closer, and soon saw that I’d hit the jackpot. Some of the dock vehicles were actually disguised, armored vehicles, and the guards were carrying military grade weapons and equipment. A casual observer might have been fooled, but not a trained one.
Sub-vocalizing, “Timer Check” I saw 2:00 pop up on my visor. Damn! I’ve used up an hour already. I still hadn’t heard from the guys, and couldn’t afford to charge in. Moving as slow I could to maintain our near invisibility, Cape and I boarded the Cerberus. There were huge stacks of those big sea/land containers on the deck, and I was completely lost as to where to go, until I saw some crewmen enter one, which was under guard.
I could have slapped myself. They were using the blasted containers as their base! Trucks were moving the bloody things around, and then reassembling them, back into their base. It seemed a little cumbersome, but it had sure confused us. I mean, it was all a juggling act, using paperwork, but it meant this was a huge operation. And here I was, all on my lonesome, with my team in now open defiance of the law, and even the Warders were in the doghouse.
Now the question was, how get in. I got my answer as Cape, yanking on a sleeve, pointed another form moving ghost-like, edging next to an ventilation system, Wraith? Soundlessly gliding over to where I had seen the Warder’s sneaky specialist. At least I hoped it was her.
“Wraith? It‘s Mystery” I whispered very, very softly.
Just as low, she answered, “Yes.”
Motioning me to the grill, she silently urged me to open it. I carefully used my strength to remove it as soundlessly as I could. Once inside and out of sight, we held a quick conference. The Warder team transport had dropped her off on top of the fleeing vehicles, before they had come to help us. The bad guys had simply evaded pursuit and disappeared, too damn many times. This time, Question had loaded the dice. After hitching a ride here with the bad guys, she’d hidden and then sent out a signal, showing our friends where she was.
Playing cagey, like me, she was keeping ‘radio silence,’ but was concerned, since she hadn’t heard anything from her team, either. I told her I had sent out a call too, but neither one of us was content to wait for the cavalry. Besides, I wanted to get Dee out of here before all hell cut loose again. Wraith agreed. Cape changed my costume into something more suitable for crawling around inside ventilation ducts, and we were off.
Wraith was even smaller than I was, topping out maybe 5’2”, and as lithe as a snake, but I had the advantage of my flight, so I could kinda drift in the center of the ducts. This was one of the first times I almost regretted being top heavy. As slim as I am, my breasts look bigger than they really are. Sure, every now and then they do get in the way, but regrets?
We’ve all seen those movies with guys crawling around in these ducts, right? Bull!, I’m a lot smaller than I used to be, and I’m telling you it was tight as hell! Guys may make dirty jokes about women’s ‘bumpers,’ but it isn’t any damn fun at all when they actually play the role.
We had to navigate a couple of sheer drops and climbs, but with me flying, and Cape acting as rope for Wraith, we did pretty well. It didn’t take long for us to get the idea that somehow, it was bigger inside this damn place than it was outside. This place was huge and had everything any mastermind bent on world domination could desire. Barracks, kitchens, weapon ranges, and, I’m not kidding, a sauna.
We knew we were heading in the right direction when the screams began. Both of us winced from the soul deep torment that echoed from within them. For me it was even worse being an empath. It hurt! I was forced to block almost every thing except for my ‘string’ leading to Dee.
Finding a vent, both of us peered out, half afraid what we would see when we did. The room looked if, somehow, they had put 3 of those containers together. The room looked just like a scene from that game I played back home, Demon Slaughter. You know, the throne of bones and skulls with ornate pools filled with blood? This one was set on a wide platform on top of a small twenty feet tall pyramid. The pyramid of skulls and bones was three tiered, with prisoners shackled to each tier, and it had these channels where their blood would run into the pools. A elevated walkway went from the doorway and circled around the pyramid. In front of the stairs ascending to the top was even a sarcophagus. The ugly, gray, metallic coffin just screamed that it was designed to keep something locked within. The thick bands that had bound it had obviously had been broken, oh joy.
What the game never had, was the stench of death, and that horrible metallic smell from the blood that kinda struck to your tongue. I’ve no idea why I didn’t start throwing up on the spot. Maybe it was Mike’s potion, but I’m telling you, both Wraith and I got very green.
Atop the throne was a corpse. I mean, there was no other way to describe it. The Thing had pale desiccated skin, with a thatch of bristle like hair. Like I said, a corpse dressed in a black costume with red highlights. The kicker was, of course, this one was still moving.
The screamer was the woman who’d nearly killed me, Patience. Her entire body arched backwards from the torment inflicted upon her, but some force wouldn’t let her fall. Next to her, the corpse had its hands upon her head and chest. Ill, nauseous colored reddish auras ran down its arms and flickered, as if in time with the beat of an heart.
Then, scanning down the walkway past that ghastly scene, I saw Dee! What shocked me was that Tom was down there as well. Not as a participant, as Anza believed, but handcuffed like Dee and the other hostages. The whole thing was such an apocalyptic picture, I almost forgot to use my phone to record what we were seeing! I never anticipated anything like this. Maybe a heavyset Barlon Mrando like figure reigning over a conference of Richard Tracey villains, but never anything like this!
Standing over the hostages, at the foot of the pyramid stairs, were the cream of the Syndicate enforcers, Big Red, Ripper, Man Mountain, and even Tom’s fiancé, among about 10 others. But damn it, I knew it, standing beside Mr. Undead up there, was that Greek bastard, Hyperion.
Even with my empathic shielding, Patience’s agony made me ache. With Dee in sight, I shut off even that link, for what was happening down there was just too damn awful and painful. We hardly knew each other, but Wraith and I found ourselves holding hands, and each other, as Patience’s screams of agony echoed in that terrible place.
I think I caught on, because I was so afraid that with whatever was happening to Patience, that Tom and Dee would be next. Even as her torture was building to a crescendo, damn if I didn’t see Tom slip free of his bonds. No one else saw a thing, for their eyes were involuntarily locked upon the grim scene being played out in front of them.
With a flourish, the corpse-thing ripped something from her chest that shone bright, even in that grim place. Patience’s body slumped to the floor, and I had no doubt she was dead, because I was sure that, that thing held what was left of her essence in its skeleton claws.
All watched as the bright shape writhed and fought helplessly, before it vanished into the black maw of that corpse-thing’s mouth. With a satisfied, skull toothed grin, it reached down and dragged Patience’s lifeless body into a horrible parody of an lover’s embrace. With a lurch, it vomited a ugly red worm of energy into Patience’s body and I couldn’t help but shiver as I saw her corpse begin to breathe.
Tom had other things in mind. He waited until even the Enforcers looked away, or closed their eyes in revulsion, and made his move. There was a table where all of the hostage’s belongings had been placed, and fast as a striking viper he nabbed his phone. Before they even knew he’d moved, he spun back around to the other prisoners.
My phone shook and rattled as he hit the panic button of his phone, “Mike! Get them the hell out of here!” He shoved his phone into Dee’s hands just as their guards were becoming aware that anything was wrong.
A bright green light flashed as a disk of green formed on top of Dee, and she vanished! Standing on its edge, like a circular door suspended in midair, another shell shocked young woman, handcuffed and numb from her abuse, was pushed into the disk by Tom, while a pair of arms reached for her from within it. The other hostages, after witnessing tonight’s dreadful events, decided whatever was on the other side of the green had to be better than where they were. They stumbled into it, fleeing the horrible events they’d just witnessed.
Ripper snarled and leaped at them, but Tom neatly judo tossed him across the walk into one of those obscene pools of red.
Crap! This was going down right now and I still didn’t have a clue where the cavalry was! Wraith had made herself visible, I think maybe to give me a friendly face to look at. I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was. Charging down there wasn’t going to change a damn thing. Right, time for a compromise!
Whispering desperately to her, “They’re fixated on Streeter. We can play guardian angel for him, unseen,” I pleaded.
When she nodded, a wave of relief went though me. I surged forward and forced the vent open. Wraith disappeared as she dropped to the floor, and I gave the metal a quick bend to keep the vent from falling as I replaced it.
The bad guys were trying to haystack Streeter, but catching a speedster is not the easiest thing in the world. What he had done was distract them long enough for Mike, using his magic disk, to steal all the hostages away, including Dee. With a wink the disk shrank and was gone before the baddies could follow.
I saw a pair of bumbling villains trip and fall, knocking over a third, and knew Wraith was busy. Seeing my old friend, Big Red swinging away madly at the dodging Tom, I couldn’t help sending one of Cape’s ribbons to give him a bump, which sent him stumbling and almost into Ripper, who was pulling himself up out of that grim red pool.
Me? I was hovering stationary near the wall where my camouflage was the most effective, and using streamers from Cape to disrupt things. Not that it needed any encouragement! Talk about a situation tailor made for an inveterate prankster!
But all good things must end. Our fun free-for-all ended as that nasty soul eating, cadaver thing stirred.
Hyperion knelt beside it, receiving orders I guess, then stood up. “Stop! Lord Corruption commands that the sacrifices must be returned! Blip, open a portal to the Warder’s headquarters, where the Master has informed me they’ve been taken. Ripper will lead. Persuader, Aerial, and I will deal with the speedster.
“Ripper, take all the Invincibles, and an entire company of the Black Guards. Destroy everything, but I caution you, the Lord’s sacrifices must be undamaged, lest you take their place.” the tall Greek commanded.
As far as I could see, that corpse wasn’t moving any too lively, pardon the pun, so I’m guessing Tom had done better than he’d guessed in disrupting whatever that thing needed to steal bodies.
The bad news was, a multi-hued, costumed woman had opened a rainbow colored arch, and bad guys were lining up to go into it. Tom was trying to get around Big Red and his Ex, but he couldn’t quite make it. Damn it Tom! Just punch the bitch out! For some reason though, he seemed unable to move.
Crap! They were sending a whole damn army after Mike and Dee!
Hitting my phone’s panic button, I broke my radio silence, “Heads up! There is a major strike force teleporting in to hit the Warder’s headquarters. At least a dozen supers and a hundred mercs, with orders to recapture the hostages, acknowledge?”
Mike’s voice sounded so damn good!, “A Dozen supers and a hundred mercs, I confirm. Chevalier’s are en route to your area. Keep tight and stay safe.”
While I had the chance, I squirted my report and pictures that I’d taken to his phone . As I watched Hyperion carry Patience’s corpse to that throne of bone I replied, “Wishful thinking, big guy. Mystery out.”
Mike yelled into the simulation camber’s intercom, “Company coming, and they’re loaded for bear!” He’d been using this room because it was one of the toughest constructed rooms in the Warder’s HQ, just in case something followed his enchantments back, following his off the cuff hostage rescue.
Talk about a total Fluster Cluck! For the past hour, ULTIMATE’d had the Chevaliers and the Warders pinned up here in the HQ after that little misunderstanding downtown. That bastard Hostler knew just how to play on his bureaucratic bosses fears, to get what he wanted. He had most of ULTIMATE’s resources sitting outside of their door right now.
Then a thought occurred to him, ‘What if?’
Reaching out with his magical senses, he felt the Syndicate teleporter’s door in space and time opening. Of course it was on the other side of the building from the mass of ULTIMATE’s armed forces, but with a little green earth magic to just alter the space time coordinates just a decimal point, Ta-da, it’s soup! Oh sure, he wasn’t supposed to muck with time, but it’d been really just an itty-bitty bit.
The explosion of gunfire and chaos he heard erupt outside gave him a warm feeling. Maybe he should feel bad about the ULTIMATE guys getting the short end of the stick, but he was sick and tired of them shooting at the wrong guys. That old saying was so true, 'Friendly fire isn’t!'
Welcome to the fight for justice, boys!
His own wards started singing, trouble was a coming, and Mike gave a look over his shoulder to make sure the hostages he and Streeter had rescued were out of the line of fire. The HQ’s support staff had hustled most of them away, but wouldn’t you know it, Dee had managed to avoid them.
“Dee follow the others! Trouble is coming.” Mike ordered.
Stubbornly, she shook her head, “I can feel them. It’s those two tunnel guys. You might need me to dig you out, like I did Misty.”
Damn if she didn’t have a point. Well, time to cash in on a favor.
“Right, stay well behind me. If anything happens to you, Mystery and Anza will kick my butt.” he motioned her behind him.
With a crash, both Ripper and Man Mountain tore though the heavily reinforced concrete floor, amid the hooting and howling klaxons and flashing alarm lights. Both of them being the low-brow sort, they had decided to throw away surprise, in favor of the fear factor.
Mike took a deep breath and prayed this worked. Pouring a prepared bottle of spring water onto the floor where it pooled, he knelt.
Unimpressed the two goons advanced on him. Ripper demanded, “Give us the hostages and we’ll make it nice n’ quick, pretty boy.”
Ignoring them Mike addressed the pool of water, as the flashing alarm lights reflected off it. “Lady of the Waters. I ask thee to grant me a boon of a weapon to defend the innocent, and stop those who seek to profit by injustice.”
The two halted in surprise as the image of an lady, beautiful beyond compare, seemed to rise from within the depths of a lake, despite it being just a spill less than a centimeter deep upon the floor. In amazement, they watched, as impossibly, the hilt of some sort of weapon followed. They looked at each other in befuddlement, recognizing it as a baseball bat?
Mike grasped the wooden grip and pulled it from the water. A rain of brilliant droplets followed its release from the Lady’s hand. Turning it to check the trademark, Yep, it was a genuine Louisville Slugger, except that no product of that illustrious plant had ever hummed with power like this one did. He didn’t need to see the additional runes branded on it, proclaiming its name, for it was legend, even if this was its first incarnation as a white ash baseball bat.
Bouncing it gently in a business like manner in the palm of his hand, he looked up, “My Lady, I thank thee for thy gift, and pray I may have the wisdom to use it wisely and well.” Standing, he stood ready.
Ripper, regaining his bluster, guffawed, “Little man, you’re going to stop us with a baseball bat?
Man Mountain joined in his companion‘s rude laughter. “How about we shove that bat up your …” but stopped when Mike joined in their laughter.
“Anytime you’re ready gents. Come get some!” Mike motioned to them, giving a grim smile.
With a roar that rivaled any monster of old, they charged the champion who defended a child. Old powers stirred, as ancient pacts long forgotten, but no less powerful, were honored.
Outside, a vicious battle was being waged. With no warning, their enemies had appeared right in the middle of their forces. ULTIMATE troopers battled Black Guard mercenaries, while the trained teams of the Invincibles fought their dropships and war machines. The Warders, once the ones under siege, now became ULTIMATE’s ally, as they sallied forth into such a battle as few had ever seen.
A war previously unseen had come into the open, lit by the fires of exploding aircraft and the bolts of death that slew friend or foe. One could, perhaps, forgive a participant or two for wanting to be elsewhere. Let’s say, that cozy castle that had been doing so well at keeping trouble at bay.
But even in the center of this whirlwind of destruction, the thunderous booms that shook the earth from the heart of the Warder’s citadel gave all pause to wonder what was causing it, and even wonder if just maybe they were better off out here after all.
Heroes of Justice: Cry Havoc!
I was half-expecting Wraith to sneak out though the arch before it vanished, but instead, I felt her beside me. It was her home under attack, after all, but she had stayed. With all of those enforcers about, we hadn’t had a chance to break Tom out, anyway. Maybe now, with just Big Red and the Greek, we could run for it.
Little Miss Witch the Ex?, Well, honestly, I didn’t think she would prove a problem. Well, you know what they say about assumptions making an ass of you and me. We found out all about that, as it got really hard to move!
I think we both thought the gig was up and that we’d been discovered. The truth came out when Tom’s Ex swaggeringly walked to where he’d been slowly forced down to his knees.
“What? Not trying to crawl away are you? That’s a change from when you were trying so hard to get into my pants. No snappy comebacks snookums? You see, I lied about being only a minor mutant, and not having any powers. I used to only be able to control gravity about myself. I worked as an Exotic entertainer with the stage name of Aerial, because I danced in zero-gravity. But then, all that changed, after making a teensy weensy little deal. I now have full control of my gravity powers.” she sounded every bit as unpleasant as I remembered her to be.
Red faced and fighting to breathe as she was crushing him, he tried to reason with her, “You don’t have to do this, Becky. I never would’ve asked you to marry me if I thought you were the type of person they think you are. Let me go. Together we can try and make things right. … Becky?”
Kneeling by him, as he fought to keep from being pressed flat onto the floor, she caressed his face, “Sorry, Duane. Maybe if we’d met before all of this happened, but once you sell yourself to the Master, you’re his, now and forever.”
Walking down the steps of the throne, Hyperion took off his jacket and loosened his tie. The Greek shrugged as he hit the edges of her G-field, but a crackling crimson field sprang to life about him, protecting the tall shipping tycoon.
Poor Wraith was trapped just like Tom, pressed nearly flat to the floor. Me? It’d taken every last bit of strength Cape and I had to just keep myself from stomping as I neared them. That was good, because it made me move slow enough I was virtually invisible, but bad, because I got the idea that once Mr. Greek reached Tom, something unpleasant was on the agenda.
I beat him there, but not by much. Not having the time or the power to do anything fancy, I fought to raise my arm above her and, aiming carefully, let it drop like the cast iron ingot it felt like.
Her eyes widened right before I struck. She must’ve she seen me because I was so close. There was a splash of blood, and simultaneously, she and the G-field dropped. I thought I might’ve killed her, but I didn’t have a choice at the time.
Tom collapsed along with the field but, that lasted only a split second, as he jumped up and checked to see if she was alive. From his expression, I gathered she was, but at the time I had bigger problems.
Patience corpse’s voice rang out, “Blight, it appears we have some uninvited guests. Please don’t be rude. Introduce them, won’t you?”
That damn Greek answered to the name like a well heeled dog. His nauseous reddish energy field pulsed, throwing St. Elmo’s fire about all in that grim place. The damn glowing stuff clung to everything. Yes, even those of us trying to remain unseen. Wraith and I were revealed by our glowing outlines.
Cape, reading my mind, re-armored us in our original medieval style costume again, as I reached down to help up my friend. Both of us were keeping a close eye on Big Red and Hyperion.
Tom whispered to me, “What took you so long?”
Together, we edged back to where Wraith, still trailing St. Elmo’s fire, waited warily. I didn’t have a clue as to what the Greek’s powers were, but they seemed to involve neutralizing others abilities. His energy field let him ignore Aerial’s gravity increasing thing, and had let him find Wraith and me. That put her at a serious disadvantage without her invisibility gig.
I whispered back to him, “I took a wrong turn in Albuquerque. Mike says the Cavalry is on the way, but why don’t we beat feet away from these dudes in the meanwhile?”
Hyperion’s voice rang loud, “My lord, it is one of the interlopers, and Wraith of the Warders.”
“Going somewhere dears?” spoke the cadaver thing up on the throne.
If I’d still had balls they would’ve looked for somewhere to hide. Cape’s alert center had passed red alert and was headed to plaid! It told me, in no uncertain terms, that the animated cadaver was a really, truly BAD thing. We had about much as a chance of taking that thing out as a moth taking out a bug zapper. It ate living things.
The corpse thing directed the Greek, “Blight, please dispense with them. I need amusement until my servants return with my sacrifices.”
Wraith, trying to shake off the distracting red flickering glow clinging to her, joined the two of us, apparently approving our plan, “That sounds like a very good idea.”
Hyperion bowed his head in acknowledgment, “As thou wish, my lord.”
All three of us were still backing away as the two of them came closer.
“How does a three count and a rush for the doors sound to you two?” Tom asked in a whisper.
I think we both nodded, for no way in hell were we going to take our eyes off Big Red and Mr. Greek advancing towards us.
“Three!” Tom and I breathed, and turned, sprinting for the exit. Wraith cursed something in Chinese behind us, and was close on our heels.
We hadn’t gone half a dozen steps before Cape started pulling in warning. In that weird way that time seems to slow, I saw the only way out, begin to fill with a sea of assault suited guards, armed to the proverbial teeth.
I didn’t need to turn around to just know Big Red was smiling. The three of us slowed to a stop, and I couldn’t help but remember a line from a movie about a small group of soldiers about to be rushed by untold thousands of blood thirsty natives. “May the good Lord make us truly grateful for what we are about to receive.”
“Misty, I’ve been an Ass. I’m sorry,” Tom said softly, as we slowed to a stop, staring at the really, truly between a rock and a hard place we found ourselves in.
Wraith and I both turned to face him with disbelief on our faces. I hadn’t known the Warders were aware of Streeter’s failings, but it was plain the two of us were thinking the same thing. He was apologizing? We were just so doomed!
“Tom your timing sucks, but apology accepted. What say you two take out the storm-troopers, and I’ll have tea and crumpets with these two?” I asked. Geez, Anza was right. I’ve been spending way too much time around the Colonel!
My plan was simple. Streeter was still stripped to his waist, and without his toys. Wraith, if she stayed away from Hyperion, might have a chance against the hired muscle, even without her invisibility. With luck, they could fight through, while I played rear guard. We knew where the real threat was, and I was the only one who might be able to do anything to stop them. Well, a girl and her Cape anyways, that is.
They rushed the line of guards, and battle was joined in a roar of gunfire, shouts and screams. Turning around, I suddenly had my hands full, because while Big Red might be a little slow, he wasn’t stupid, if you know what I mean. His all too familiar big red boot to the face somersaulted me though the air. Twisting about, I landed, cat-like, on my feet.
Wiping the stinging sensation from my mouth, I jeered, “Hello, sugar. Miss me?”
Both of them started after me, but Big Red held up a hand. Hyperion, seeing his companion’s desire, graciously nodded and folded his arms in repose, while keeping an eye on the mayhem developing behind me.
“You really should have accepted my offer. Finding and penetrating this room truly proves we could have accomplished extraordinary things together. It is a shame that it had to end this way, alas.” The big guy in red shook his head sadly.
That’s when I figured out he had to be using some kind of power field, or maybe even pheromones. Persuader, known to me as Big Red, was one of the bad guys we didn’t have a lot of information about. Whatever it was, it was distracting, and, I suspected, particularly so to women. He was about to get one hell of an surprise, because it wasn‘t going to work this time. My mental protection was much stronger than before, and Cape could help by screening what I was breathing.
We took each other’s measure and, as soon as I saw a glimpse of doubt in his eyes, I moved. Can’t say for sure what made the difference this time; Months of hard training, being better integrated with Cape, or just me being stronger and faster now. This time it was him eating my red boot for a change.
Giving me a wary look, he pulled himself to his feet.
Not wanting him to get smart and invite the Greek to our little shindig, Cape and I gave him just the cutest curtsy.
While I was taking care of old business, I still noticed what was going on at the top of that obscene pyramid. That cadaver thing up on the throne had started feeding in some way, on those poor unfortunates manacled to its sides. The more that died, the more animated it got. I didn’t need Cape to tell me that this was not a good thing.
Big Red, his masculine pride in a bind, came at me with a combination of kicks and punches.
Cape floated me above his fury, and precisely I put him back on his butt, while Cape tangled his feet. We landed with a thump on his midsection, and started whaling on him. With his head flat on deck, and taking the full force of my strikes, I was seriously ringing his clock!
Big Red kicked himself free with a huge effort, and vaulted to his feet. Anyone else would have been thrown away from him, but not me.
My personal combat style looks very much like something out of a Hollywood blockbuster. That’s simply because I can fly. I can use all four limbs for striking and blocking. My months of training had let me refine this under the tutelage of Mr. Chang’s mysterious, un-named, secret Chinese clan of martial arts masters. I might look like some Hollywood starlet using wirework to perform impossible acrobatic maneuvers, but in reality, it gives me the most priceless advantage in any fight, surprise.
Instead of being thrown away from him, I curled myself into a ball, and just spun in the air like a top. Big Red stood there, shaking his head, trying to clear it, not expecting me to still be right there in front of him. Straightening my leg, and twisting on the axis of my spin, I hit him with the great grandmother of all roundhouse kicks.
His head snapped around, and even I felt the shock of the impact all the way to my teeth. Big Red half spun about before he slammed back into the deck. I risked a quick look at the mayhem Streeter and Wraith were inflicting on Mr. Corpse Thing’s goons. That was an almost fatal move, as Big Red might’ve been down, but the big guy was not out.
Persuader grabbed a handful of Cape and yelled! “NO CAPES!” With a flick of his wrist, the big man in red whipped it around, aiming for the bulkhead. The look on his face was priceless when I didn’t go anywhere! it was just like pulling on a toilet paper roll, and it failed to tear, as Cape had given and stretched, robbing Big Red’s blow of its power.
Unfortunately for him, he was the second to use that derogatory line, and try that tonight. Big Red had barely enough time for a double take, as Cape wrapped itself around his arm. With arm wrenching crack, Cape snapped back into its normal length, playing crack the whip just like the big guy had intended, but with him, rather than us, crashing into the bulkhead! This time, Persuader just oozed, unconscious onto the deck. Goodnight, Gracie! I felt like crowing, as my own personal boogieman went down. However the sounds of the furious fight going on at the doors killed that idea real fast like.
Giving a glance at that battle, Tom had appropriated a katana from some unlucky guard, and together, he and Wraith were carving their way out. They both had cuts and bruises, but like the old saying goes, ‘you should see the other guys.’ There were more than a dozen fallen bodies about them, and only some of them were in need of immediate medical attention, if you know what I mean. The good news was, the way out was almost clear.
Not surprisingly at all, the Corpse-thing was having none of that. With a crash, the doors shut! The baddies in black leaped out of the way, and looked as unhappy as we were about being on the wrong side of them. Looking back behind us, the thing moving Patience’s cadaver waved a hand, and a loud clanking from the doors let all know they were dogged shut, Shit!
“No, no, no! You must not leave so soon. You are so entertaining! I simply must insist you stay for dinner. Blight,” it said, addressing the Greek. “Why don’t you seat our guests? Your men can assist, unless they would rather take their place,” it said, waving at the tiers around the throne that now held only the bodies of the dead.
The remaining dozen and a half or so goons took a good look at their fallen comrades, and then at that horrible figure atop that pyramid of bones and blood. As one, they screamed and charged. Oh man, this just gets better and better. I’d been eyeing the Greek, but up to now he’d been content to let Big Red and his men do the fighting.
Just than a huge explosion rocked the ship! ‘Knock, knock. I think my friends are calling!’ As everyone else fought to remain standing, I took the opportunity to slide tackle Hyperion, and damn near took myself out doing it. The pain that ripped though me when I hit that vicious ruby luminosity of his was enough to cause me to see spots, even though I did take him down. Okay, important safety tip. Don’t touch the Greek!
“Mystery, this is Diamond. We’re on the way!” Morgan’s beautiful voice promised, as I rolled away from Mr. Hyperion with every nerve in my body burning.
“You'd better save that for me,” Anza’s presence told me, overhearing my thoughts.
Thinking back to her, “You don’t know how good it is to feel you with me again! Yes, you’re beautiful, and so much more, but right now, we have a big problem, so please don‘t take too long.”
Sub-vocalizing, so everyone on our tactical radio network could hear, “We have the demi-lich of doom and a Greek level boss down here. Bring help, a lot of help! We’re in full retreat, so hurry!”
The aforementioned was already on his feet, so Cape and I levitated off the deck. Cape scooped up some of the fallen guards’ equipment and made me some baseball sized missiles. I decked an overly ambitious guard goon, but I didn’t let my eyes leave the Greek as he began slowly walking our way.
“Now that isn’t very friendly, turning down the Master’s kind invitation,” he said, stepping into thin air as if it was solid.
‘Oh great! He can fly too, but ha, too late sucker.’ I let fly with a fastball at him that was dead on target.
Hitting that nasty, reddish energy field of his, my projectile exploded into a haze of rusty dust!
He smiled saying, “Come now. Nothing lasts forever. Whether just losing the will to live, or just worn out, everyone dies. The Master has gifted me with the power to hasten that fate. Why fight entropy, little one? It is meant to be.”
I had been using my body to shield Streeter and Wraith as they struggled with the dwindling number of guards, as that way I kept Hyperion’s attention, but he was getting too close. I was a lot more maneuverable than he, and flittered away, out of his reach. I sent him a couple more fastballs, hoping maybe one with little or no metal in it might get though, but no such luck. Some of the shots disintegrated, while others just slowed and melted. They did keep his attention away from my team mates, but that was about all.
The cadaver up upon old bony top was starting to grow a little impatient, but the sounds of battle outside let me know that help was on the way. Streeter was limping, and Wraith wasn’t looking any too good either. If that wasn’t enough, that damn Greek was getting too bloody close!
Just when I didn’t need anymore bad news, “Mystery, this is Mike. I’ve been busy but Dee and I are fine. Just looked at those pictures you took. The key to this whole thing is to destroy that pile of skulls and bones. It’s a kind of magical storage battery that’s keyed to a really nasty ritual. Be careful when you bust it. We’re talking about undead battery acid, and the worst possible toxic waste you can think of mixed together here. The direst kind of bad Juju!”
Dodging the Greek bootlicker at the last possible moment, “Boy you’re just full of good news, aren’t you?”
Mike’s tired voice replied, “I’m all out of good news. The Warders and ULTIMATE are up to their necks in troubles with those party crashers you sent our way. Hell, I’m told the Air Force and the Army are on the way, and for all I know, the Navy and Marines are too. I’m still helping the Warders clear up a little rodent infestation. When I settle that unfinished business, I’ll be on my way, but until then, you and the rest of the Chevaliers are on your own.”
When it rains it pours. Out of the corner of my eye I saw old gruesome weakly lift itself out of its throne and start chanting, I think in Japanese. Who says all those hours of watching Anime was wasted?
Meanwhile, my teammates had finished off the last of the guards, and were trying to open the doors. The sounds of battle inside the room died away, but the ones outside were not only still roaring strong, they were getting closer, thank you very much!
Cape started hitting the panic button about the same time Streeter just had to say it, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
No one could miss the grating sound that gray, metal coffin lid made when it began sliding off that wonderful center piece, in front of that cheery rustic pyramid. Streeter and Wraith gave each other a look, and frantically went to high speed, trying to figure out a way to open those damn doors. The falling lid made a tremendous loud bang as it slid off, hitting the already busted bands that had kept it shut. At the same time, a radiation warning started flashing in the upper corner of my visor, just as an emaciated hand reached up and began pulling its owner out of the coffin, Oh Crap!
“Mystery to all Chevaliers. New undead bad guy on the field! Heads up! It’s radioactive, whatever it is!”
That’s when I got the exceedingly horrible, bad idea. Hyperion and I had been steadily gaining altitude, and were nearing the ceiling. All the while I’d been looking for something that I could whale on him with, that didn‘t just fall apart. When Mike called, I’d glanced down at the pyramid stack of bones in question. There, next the remains of the husk the corpse-thing had shed, was this bright silvery wand, Patience’s shiny weapon thingie! ‘Hey, didn’t I see it morph into a shield tough enough to stop one of Renegade’s haymakers?’
“Enough of this!” Patience’s cadaver demanded. “My dear honored guest, I have freed you from your decades long imprisonment. Please honor our agreement and eliminate this student of your old enemy. Do you not see the his symbol upon her breast?”
I didn’t have a clue what it was talking about, so of course I glanced down at myself. Cape had added a small, golden, Greek Omega symbol to our supersuit, that was just like the pin the Major had given us at our informal graduation. I can’t blame it, for Cape was just as proud of completing the Major’s school of hard knocks as I was.
Being a little busy avoiding Hyperion’s spirited attempts to seat me for dinner, I hadn’t given whatever was crawling from that coffin a whole lot of attention. What I did know was that it was radioactive, and hotter than hell. Now, however, seemed a good time to find out what was going to be trying to kill me next. Damn, but my dance card was getting full!
It was a very well preserved mummy that just looked kinda dried out, and didn’t look to have decayed much at all. Japanese style robes covered a uniform of some kind underneath, but I couldn’t tell much else. Besides, it was moving, and had a pair of miniature blazing, sun like orbs for eyes. Cape didn’t like it, and I can’t say I did either!
The Mummy raised its hands, and streams of fire shot from them like a flamethrower! I dodged, and the flames splattered, hissing against the wall. Cape hugged itself to me as the flames just missed us, while the little blinking radiation warning on my visor went nuts!
I made a dash for escape before Hyperion and the Flaming Mummy of Doom pinned me in a corner, but a hail of fiery bolts made that moot. The stench of burnt paint and metal didn’t help the aroma in here at all, but Cape helped by providing thicker breathing aid, in the form of a scarf across my face, so I could even breathe at all in here. I knew I needed protection, and the memory of how Patience used that silver rod of hers to protect herself was still fresh. Desperately twisting in the air, I dove for the top of that obscene throne as fast as I could, dodging the mummy’s flaming ack-ack coming up at me. Cape protected me from most of that hail of deadly radioactive fire, but despite both of our efforts, we got burned. Just glancing hits, but bloody hell, they still hurt!
In a diving roll, I snatched up that rod of quicksilver, thinking, begging, ‘Please help me and Cape. We need a shield.’ To my amazement, it worked it! A large, shiny, round shield flowed out from the silvery wand just in time for a fistful of scorching hot blasts to bounced off of it, splattering small globes of fire everywhere.
Peering over the shield’s quicksilver edge I saw that the Asian Mummy from hell didn’t care for that at all. I ducked behind the shield as a literal river of incandescence thundered up at me. Even though I was fighting for all I was worth, it still forced me back, my feet skidding on stuff I didn’t actually want too think too much about, but more importantly, it was pushing me back towards where Patience’s possessed corpse waited with hungry eyes.
Still, most of that superheated, ravaging, stream of destruction reflected off and almost nailed Greek boy. No such luck, but caught in the edges, he fell smoking, while the rest of that fiery torrent blew a big hole enough for a truck, clean though the ceiling!
Suddenly the firestorm was stopped by a roar of gunfire. Streeter had stripped a armored vest full of ammo and an assault rifle from one of the unconscious thugs. He was pouring bullets into Ole Flaming Doom, while Wraith was slinging shurikens in a steady stream, like she was dealing cards. The problem was, they weren’t doing much good. Everything they sent his way was bursting into flaming, molten gobs that never seemed to hit him. About the only thing it did do was start to slowly burn those Samurai robes away, as he heated up. Oh yeah, and get his attention.
Both of my team mates dove for cover, as more fire shot at them, hissing and splattering like hot grease as it missed. Streeter never stopped firing. He’d moved just enough not to get hit, and slammed another magazine home, even as the spent one was still falling to the metal grate flooring. Wraith, using acrobatics, nimbly kept from becoming a crispy critter while stopping to search the still moaning guards for more things to throw.
Looking back at the corpse thing holding onto its throne for balance while reaching for me, I remembered all too well how it had sucked Patience’s life dry. Talk about being between the Devil and the deep blue sea! ‘Let me see. Death by radiation poisoning, or having my soul devoured?’
I took a running start and, using my flight, guided a good old fashioned shield smash right into Ole Flaming’s noggin! Yay for foolish youthful wastes of time, running around in padded mail armor, and bashing fellow nutcases and friends in the Society for Innovative Anachronisms!
You want to know how hot he was? Hot, Damn hot! Just like a blast furnace. Thank Gawd Patience’s silvery thingie didn’t melt, and Cape was fireproof! Even so, I was adding to my un-nice collection of burns. At least I had some kind of protection. Streeter and Wraith didn’t have any at all. It was debatable if I had any either, since Cape was, thank goodness, likely partially biological. I was really, really hoping, like the advertisement for those shade’s, Cape did provide thermo-nuclear protection!
My bash had knocked him sprawling onto the metal walk. The area where he fell began to glow and soften in the extreme heat coming off of him. I had to use the shield just to get close. He was so hot, the wavering heat made it hard to see. A loud clang rang off the grating as I swung, and missed striking him.
I was so close now, I could see his robes hadn’t so much burned, as just crisped into charcoal. His uniform, that had been hidden underneath, was made of a fibrous, glassy stuff, that my geekdom bank of trivia told me, almost had to be asbestos. The red and white colors told me something else I didn’t really want to know.
He came to his feet and blasted off another rain of fire at me. Flinging up my borrowed shield I blocked it, but almost lost my legs when he sprayed more fire down low. Thank Gawd for Cape’s warning!
The only liquids nearby were those stinking pools of blood, but I had to come up with some way of cooling this dude off. I tried to knock him off the walkway, but he sidestepped me rather neatly. His abilities, the uniform, and the radioactivity were starting to add up. I was afraid I knew who this was, or maybe better, who he had been. If I was right, we were in big trouble. How do you stop someone who stopped not one, but two nuclear bombs?
A ringing boom shook the doors!
Streeter and Wraith barely had time to roll out of the way before the doors blew in, hanging half-off their hinges. There stood Renegade! Hallelujah! The cavalry was here!
General Marvin “Buck” Lee, U.S. Air Force, shook his head. Why did he have to be in the hot seat, tonight of all nights? All hell was breaking loose in New Riverside. He was getting reports of open combat between superheroes and ULTIMATE enforcement units. Contradictory information had ULTIMATE deliberately letting criminals escape, and attacking the heroes instead. Hell, one report even had ULTIMATE laying siege to the Warder’s headquarters.
Early on, ULTIMATE had all but demanded he send jet fighters to shoot down someone in an ancient aircraft from the Korean War for Gawd’s sake, who was ‘harassing’ their operations. According to his intelligence section, they had lost at least five state of the art Dropships so far, to this fifty year old flying antique. What’s more, whoever he was, he was one hell of a pilot. Each dropship had been crippled by careful bursts of cannon fire. There was no doubt in the General’s mind that the mystery plane could’ve caused a whole hell of a lot more of damage, but the pilot was doing the best he could to limit the destruction. Now this …
He stared at the message his communications tech had just finished decoding. It had taken them longer than expected because they had to do some digging to find the protocols, because it was so old. No matter how old it was, the executive order was still active and on the books, signed by the President of the United States. The order was simple. The bearer was to be rendered all possible assistance, period.
If he waited for the clarification from the National Command Authority, more lives could be placed into jeopardy. It was clear the situation was in a dangerous state of flux. He remembered an adage from his War College days, “When in Command, command.”
General ‘Buck’ Lee picked up the phone to order his pilots to assist a man, on orders that had originated from Harry “Give’em Hell” Truman.
Major Victory pulled up from his strafing run, leaving a trail of destruction behind him. Fires were burning all about the Cerberus. They’d known the Syndicate had been well financed and organized, but no one had expected an army, complete with armored vehicles and heavy weapons.
He took a second to review his messages. The ever efficient Mr. Chang had liaisoned with the military, and Colonel Stone, with reinforcements, was inbound. A quick reply to the Air Force directed them to help the Warders and ULTIMATE at their citadel, while another one directed Colonel Stone to the Cerberus.
Mike had relayed Mystery’s report, and the Major opened it while looking for more targets of opportunity. He’d been multi-tasking since before it’d been a word, but what he saw caused him to lose concentration. It couldn’t be! His eyes locked onto that gray, lead coffin. He himself had laid Rising Sun’s body within it. Years later, when the Japanese government had requested their hero’s body be returned, he’d been present at the ceremony at the Nagasaki Memorial Shrine.
That someone would desecrate the Shrine angered him, but if something down there was raising the dead, then the Chevaliers would need all the help they could get. If something had Rising Sun’s powers, it put a whole new spin on the situation. The problem was, the congested dock offered no place to land, but he had faith in the old girl. She’d get him down in one piece.
Mystery’s voice reporting, “Mystery to all Chevaliers. New undead bad guy on the field! Heads up! It’s radioactive, whatever it is!” made it urgent he get down there now.
Making a banking turn, he lined up ‘Fifi’ on the Greek freighter. “This could get just a little tricky” he thought, as he began his descent.
Heroes of Justice: Dead Heroes
Ripping one of the doors the rest of the way off its hinges, Renegade slung it at the Mummy of Flaming Doom. The door turned white hot and literally splashed off of him, leaving him unharmed, with blobs of molten metal glowing all about him and me.
Esperanza, carrying Diamond, flew in through the gaping hole in the roof which was still dripping molten metal around its edges. On her way in, lasered the still smoldering Greek, who was just getting to his feet, while Anza’s eyes flashed as she mind blasted him as well.
Panting from the heat of standing too damn close to a nuclear furnace, I warned the girls, “Don’t let him touch you! That red glow is some kind of disruption field.
Lady Diamond’s lasers deflected into a harmless rainbow of lights, and while the Greek staggered, he didn’t fall from Anza’s painful brainstorm attack.
Wolfen, in half-wolf form, ran in and skidded to a halt just as Renegade tore off the other door. Hearing my warning about what was going on, Wolfen had picked up a machinegun from topside and, guiding the belt of ammunition, fed a steady stream of tracers into Hyperion.
I shield smashed the Flaming Mummy-thing again, but had no more luck than the first time. A tower of flames from it sent me flying away, but Cape flared out like a drag chute, stopping us. Not letting up, we flew right back at it. I had to keep its attention on me, because at least this quicksilver stuff offered some protection.
At least I was keeping it busy until the others finished with the Greek. The problem was, as I stole a glance, they were having one hell of time trying to do that! Wolfen’s hail of machine gun fire didn’t do a bloody thing, as some sort of weird shit happened to the bullets. Melting, rusting, falling apart, or some of them just dropped to the deck, covered in frost, not being able to touch him because that damn, bloody, radiant stuff shielding him was proving a problem.
Anza’s brainstorming attacks were doing something to him, but not enough to put him down. Even her telekinesis wasn’t able to reach him. Everyone else was busy keeping out of his reach, while he was trying to get near enough to the one person who was able to harm him.
Most of my attention was taken up by trying to stay alive. Thank Gawd we’d caught this thing right after it switched bodies, because that seemed to have weakened it. For the most part it was content to let its underlings do the fighting.
“Mystery! Head’s up! We’re getting nowhere down here. Everyone else, attack the pyramid while I keep Hyperion busy, and you do the same with the Mummy,” Morgan sent.
Will skipped forward like a prizefighter and sent a massive fist into the mass of bones. The crashing boom made the entire ship shiver!
Pay dirt!, Mike was right about this thing being important, because both Greek boy and Cadaver thing went berserk! Up on top of the still shivering pyramid, the cadaver threw its hands into the air. Power was arcing off of them like a lightning from a overcharged, exploding Tesla coil. With a sickening moan, all the bodies that lay dead all about the tiers stood up, shaking off their manacles! A rattle of gear behind me made me aware that the guards Streeter and Wraith had cut their way though were also rising from the dead. Bloody Hell!
While I was busy watching everyone else, Ole Flaming Death spat a wad of fire at my feet. Cape gave me the extra second I needed to leap up free of the inferno, but although the blast slagged a huge hole in the grate, it was only a feint.
The blast furnace hot, jet struck me hard enough that, even with the marvelous silvery thingie protecting me, the vibrations struck me so hard it made my teeth hurt! Bouncing off my shield, it burned another huge gaping hole in the roof. The explosive concussion sent me flying backwards, while Cape and I fought for control.
Lady Diamond actually managed to grapple with Greek boy and was slowing him down, even though hand to hand wasn’t her forte. I don’t know how she stood the pain, unless it had something to do with her being crystalline.
Wolfen, Streeter, and Wraith tried to fight off the zombies from the door, while Renegade was fighting to keep from being buried by the ones coming down from the pyramid.
Anza was sending enough mental lightning between Hyperion’s ears that, by all rights, his brains should be leaking out by now. He was slowing down, but even with Diamond doing everything she could, he still forced Renegade to break off his attack and dance back.
Oh, this was so not good! I tried to help Renegade, but half a dozen zombies brought me down. It took a second, but Cape and I threw most the things from us. Ripping one in two to get it off me, I could see the others were having the same problem. There were two or three dozen of the disgusting things. The zombies were strong, and the only way to stop them was to tear them to pieces.
Renegade threw one against Hyperion, where his nasty red field just blew it to zombie dust. Knowing a good thing when they saw it, everyone began trying their hand at zombie pitching! But no sooner were we winning against the zombies, than here came more hot stuff from our favorite Mummy!
Throwing the last zombie from me, I barely got to Renegade in time to block a stream of sizzling fire aimed at his back.
He grunted, “Thanks” as he threw a pair of undead into the blazing cornea of Ole Flaming Death, where they flared and burned like they had hit a giant bug zapper.
Panting hard, I sneaked a fast look around and saw that Streeter and Wraith were on their last legs. The electronics in my visor had packed it in because of the radiation and heat, so I had no way of knowing just how much time Mike’s patented magic potion had left. Our rescue party wasn’t looking a whole lot better. Then, even more black clad guards charged in to defend their boss with gunfire and whatever else was to hand. Oh this was so not looking good!
Slinging a broken zombie from me, I charged back at the Undead Flaming Thing from Hell. Smashing it with the shield wasn’t working out too well, so trying something new, I asked the quicksilver thingie for a quarter staff by picturing it in my mind.
My bumbling around in my youth, whacking others with foam padded rattan swords and other sorts of weapons, had made it clear that it takes a lot of practice to become decent with them. A staff however, is much easier to learn, but harder to master. The part I was interested right now was the reach six feet of quicksilver could give me.
With a shimmer, it flowed, even as I used every bit of leverage and strength I had to bring it down on its mummified head. Strange energies arced and played over my borrowed weapon, as a massive wave of fire stole my breath and blew me backwards.
Its head snapped around and it nearly fell from the fire blast riddled catwalk. Half hanging off the edge, it clawed back itself back onto the grate. The important part about this was, the zombies trying to dog-pile Renegade were blown right off of him. Score one for the good guys, even if he was missing his eyebrows now!
I was still smoldering myself, and trying hard to breathe as Cape air-braked us in midair, just before crashing into a bulkhead. I was covered in sweat and burns, and Cape wasn’t much better, with a decided ‘wilted’ look.
Everyone fought to keep their footing as another crashing shudder passed though the wounded Cerberus. Damn it! Ole Flaming Death had kept his footing and was raising a hand to blast more fire our way, this time at Wolfen, as he and the others fought the newest wave of black clad goons.
Flipping in the air, I kicked off the wall like a swimmer doing laps. I threw up the staff, thinking, “Shield please!” as I rocketed back across the room.
The deflected, ravaging jet of fire arced over my friends heads, making good and bad guy alike dodge the falling, white-hot blobs, as I rammed the Mummy of Flaming Doom. He fell forward, rolling almost off the walkway, but aggravatingly enough, once more caught himself in the nick of time. I bounced on the sagging metal grate twice before landing in a heap, as the intense heat boiled my life away.
I could no longer deny who Ole Flaming Death over there really was. His carbonized robes were completely gone, and the red rays of the sun of his asbestos uniform was revealed on a field of white, Rising Sun, fallen hero of the Japanese Empire.
Watching him come to his feet, I felt my heart raise up within my chest. Coughing in the hideous heat, blood specks flew onto my gauntlets. I knew I was going to die here. Cape and I could barely stand, and even if we did defeat him, it was likely I’d already taken a lethal exposure of Rads. Game over, folks.
I took a deep breath and pushed myself to my feet. My faster reflexes always made combat seem to slow to where it seemed I had all the time in the world. Now it was different somehow, as if every breath was precious, and each remaining moment was meant to be treasured. In that strange state, looking beyond Rising Sun, I could see Wraith had fallen. Streeter stood over her, half-staggering while he and Wolfen fought the mass of guards and zombies tying to kill them.
Turning my head, I saw Lady Diamond was fighting Hyperion tooth and nail, despite the pain his protective glowing red energies inflicted upon her. But he was bleeding from cuts from her razor sharp nails even as he pounded her right back. Meanwhile, Esperanza was feeding Diamond’s pain and agony right back into his brain, but still, the big Greek stubbornly refused to fall.
Renegade had called on his Grizzly Spirit, and had grown to his full twelve feet height. Standing beside those enormous vats of blood, he’d reached down and was trying rip the Pyramid right out the deck, but the zombies that’d been blown off of him had charged right back. He was covered in the undead things, ripping and tearing at him even as he shook himself trying to get rid of them. No matter the pain, my friend was refusing to relinquish his grip, knowing that this thing he grappled with must fall, or all would be lost.
After what seemed an eon between each heartbeat in that hyperawareness, Rising Sun was still just turning in slow motion to face me. I took the opportunity to look up to where that Thing sat wearing Patience’s Corpse. It was laughing. It was laughing at us. The death that Thing had surrounded itself in was so thick in here you couldn’t ignore it. The lives it had destroyed. The destruction and fear it had caused for whatever purpose, just to fuel that pyramid necromantic battery thing. And it was laughing?
A tiny spark burned within me, but it wasn’t not anger. If I had to die, then this cause was a worthy sacrifice. All of my life I’d been fighting myself. Unable to deny I was never going to fit into the cookie cutter life that society mandated, I’d found relief from reality in the realms of Science Fiction and Fantasy. Maybe, just maybe, rather than dreaming my life away, I’d been preparing for this moment all along. I determined that my death not be in vain. The longer I kept Rising Sun’s attention, the better the odds my friends could bring down this monstrosity. I settled my borrowed shield back into guard.
Cape gently guided my gaze upwards to the opening blasted in the ceiling of this abattoir throne room. Falling into this Hell was the glowing figure of an angel. Corny as it sounds, yes, I really thought it was an angel.
With a ringing clang, Major Victory landed, slamming onto the badly damaged walkway. He wore the same flight suit we’d first seen him in all those months ago. Rising Sun had only begun to raise his arms, preparing to throw more flames at me, when the disintegrating catwalk, near final collapse from the Major’s landing, caused him to fight to remain standing instead.
Major Victory met my eyes and looked at Lady Diamond and Esperanza struggling with that Greek bastard, and back again. A clear message that I was to help them. He would take care of this.
I was still blinking away the image of angels floating down from heaven, when he spoke. His voice sounded clear and understandable, even in the midst of that incredible din and roar of battle.
“Kagututi, the War is over, my friend. Please don’t make me do this!”
The Major added something else in Japanese, but Rising Sun shook his head. Not so much as if in denial, but as if he were confused.
Then that old Corpse thing had to ruin things by yelling something angrily in Japanese!
Whatever it was, set Rising Sun’s eyes blazing like novas, and he charged forward!
Major Victory met the others charge calmly, as the two them collided! A strange, bluish-green, concussion wave like effect, rushed outward from them. The Major’s bio-energy field! Normally it had just been a kind of visible aura. Now it shone in a blinding glory that shielded the two old war heroes from the sight of mere mortals.
Still in that weird hyperawareness state, I could see that Cadaver had focused all of its attention upon the Major. Strangely, Hyperion too had taken a double take at the Major dropping in. Interesting, but I had no time to wonder what it all meant.
Repressing a chest deep cough, I centered myself, concentrating on my foe. Croaking at my teammate, “Diamond, break, break, break!” I threw myself though the air. The bright silver shield flowed back into the quarterstaff on our journey, and I swung the shiny staff for all I was worth, at Hyperion.
Lady Diamond, for all that she was living crystal, was not superhumanly strong, was a lot stronger than a woman her size had any right being. Less effected by that defensive pain thing screening him, she‘d been buying Esperanza the time she needed to pound him with her mental abilities. It was only the entropy-whatever-it-was that protected him, because he wasn’t superhumanly strong either. He was a big, strong, healthy human male, but that had been enough to fight her off.
Lady Diamond twisted away from him as my staff bent with the force of my flying charge. Finally able to touch him with something that didn’t just rust or melt away, it still wasn’t the finishing blow I’d hoped for.
Passing though that pulsing crimson screening power of his, the silver staff resisted its best efforts to destroy it. A strange wave after wave of different destructive forces attacked the quicksilver rod. Frost, heat, dust formed upon it, as it passed though the pulsing reddish glow. None of it stopped my overhead strike, but it did rob it of much of its power.
I hit the ground and folded like the proverbial deck of cards, my hands and arms stinging from the impact. Mr. Hyperion the Greek, rather than have his brains splattered across the bulkheads, had instead just fallen to his knees. I had managed what no one else had.
Then, as he knelt, stunned and shaking his head in confusion, that red glowing stuff that had been protecting him disappeared.
From my ground eye view I saw Esperanza use her TK to throw the Greek Bastard against the bulkhead now that he was vulnerable. I’m not sure what she did, but whatever it was, he didn’t stay conscious long. I really don’t think he was going to be abusing anyone again. Like I’ve said before, don’t piss off the telepath.
My lover turned to the ravaging horde of zombies swarming a bleeding Renegade, and began tossing them off, as Lady Diamond’s lasers cut them apart in midair, like shooting skeet.
On cue, just like out of a James Fleming movie, ropes fell from the melted holes above, and familiar looking ninjas slid face first downwards, raining welcomed supporting fire upon our foes. As soon as they hit the decks, others took their places. Colonel Stone and the rest of his crew, using short controlled bursts from their MP7’s, came to the beleaguered Streeter and Wolfen’s aid. Professionally, they started pushing the goons out.
Renegade, free of his undead infestation, heaved upon that grim construction of blood and bones. With a whiplash crack, a pin securing it snapped, and the entire structure moved.
I could make out the cadaver pulling itself up in alarm, when the unstoppable force of Renegade heaved the pyramid upwards. It raised its stolen body’s arms, just it had before when it had called the zombies to life.
Lady Diamond’s lasers found it, and left charred slashes, but failed to stop it. I didn’t need to look, to know Esperanza was attacking it as well. Pulling myself up, using the life saving staff, Cape half-flew, half dragged me beside my shaman bear friend. Together, we pushed for all we were worth. Another pin sheared off, but that was good enough for Lady Diamond to spot the others. With a hiss she cut though the other pins like butter. As the pyramid jerked under its feet, we gave it another heave and the cadaver flew off the throne and, with a splash, fell into a blood red pool
A gore soaked hand flipped Patience’s possessed body from the pool. Dripping red spatters upon the deck, its eyes spotted Greek boy motionless upon the deck.
“Blight!” The Cadaver thing roared “You shall all pay for this!” With a shudder, one of the huge pools shifted, as it lifted one of the tanks above its head!
Grunting, Renegade threw his shoulder into that grim construction of bones, and staining, began to push it over. I don’t have a clue what it was made of, but it was a hell of a lot heavier than it should’ve been. With the last of my strength, I helped my friend accomplish the impossible.
Lost in its tantrum, the cadaver never saw it begin to topple towards it. At the last moment it must have seen what was happening because it tried to drop its burden so it could call that deadly power again. Renegade was faster, kicking with his feet to send the pyramid over past the point of no return. With a flash of lights the construction of bones fell upon its architect, hopefully crushing whatever un-life it had.
True to Mike’s prediction, flashes of energy that my over active imagination made into escaping souls, started exploding outward. Dodging the wild energetic bursts that were indiscriminatingly punching holes in the ship, everyone ran for their lives!
I made a half-hearted attempt to move, but had fallen to the deck when the toppling pyramid had passed the point of no return. All I could do was sigh when nothing seemed to work.
Someone grabbed me, and suddenly we were flying. From my strange perspective I saw everyone jumping for the ropes that our dear Colonel had provided for us. Reid, hovering above and being covered by more of our ninja friends, lifted us out, as more powerful explosions struck!
Grateful to have survived, the survivors tumbled off of ropes or the skids of the chopper, watching the colored lights explode forth from the slowly settling wreck.
I was so tired that it took me longer than it should have to figure out what that someone was trying to say to me. I was distracted, watching the beautiful lights explode forth from the still settling shipwreck. It was like watching a whirlwind of fireworks, as the spirits ascended, spiraling upward into the night sky.
“Anza,” I tried to touch her, but it was so hard. I wondered if she too, was seeing the ghost-like forms flying heavenward towards the stars.
“Beautiful,” I breathed. I felt someone pick me up, and I wondered how the ground had gotten so far away. Soft lights and warmth enveloped me, and gently I floated away into darkness.
Heroes of Justice: The only thing worse than a battle won …
I tried to open my eyes. Confused, I tried to sort out the vivid dream I’d had, from reality. A spirit of warmth and love had comforted me while I was foundering in a cold merciless sea. No matter how high the storm tossed waves had become, that spirit refused to abandon me.
“Shhh, wait,” a gentle voice told me, as a warm cloth cleaned the sleep that had prevented me from opening my eyes from them.
Anza’s face, still beautiful despite the tired rings about her dark eyes, smiled wearily at me. Feeling her joy though our bond/link, I knew she’d been that spirit in my dream. We spent a moment, lost in each others love, until real world concerns became pressing.
“We almost lost you back there. If not for the Major, and how strong that battle with Rising Sun had supercharged his glow, we ...” she couldn’t continue, choking.
I weakly took her hand. “None of that, love. You won’t get rid of me that easy.”
I had an IV stuck in one arm and a bank of medical equipment nearby, beeping. It took me a second to realize I must be in the old underground base medical facilities. Looking around I saw Wraith a few beds down from me with a bandaged Tom leaning on a cane keeping her company, as well as some of her other Warder teammates.
Dee was curled up asleep in a chair not far from my bed, and I couldn’t help smiling at our young daughter of the heart.
Anza sadly caressed my forehead softly, “I’m sorry, but you lost most of your hair. It’ll grow back. Your own rapid healing has taken care of most of the burns and contusions. Mike said his magic potion also kind of helped you, due to the nature of the spell. Something about the artificial nature of the vitality it lent you, meant that at least part of the damage you took wasn’t really to you. Don’t ask me to explain it. It’s magic! You still would’ve died if not for our dear Major dinosaur. His ‘glow’ was so amped from his battle, I’m afraid miracles are going to be reported around the docks for years.”
“Cape?” I asked, for it was as much a part of me as the rest was.
“Your symbiotic friend is fine, Luv. If you don’t feel anything right now, it’s okay. You were both in a healing, sleep-like state. You two took more than enough damage, as well as enough radiation to fry just about anything.”
I thought about that for a moment and asked, “So we won? I mean we did what we were sent here to do, right?”
Anza nodded, “Mike thinks so, yes. Before you ask, he told me he thought we were being given time to ‘Take care of Unfinished Business,’ before whatever is going to happen next, happens.”
Trying to grin despite the pain I said in my best English accent, “But I’m not dead yet!”
A fire of passion shot though my lover’s eyes as she retorted, “Don’t even joke about that, you minx! I came so close to losing you!”
I apologized to her. “I’m sorry Anza. None of this happened like we expected. Now all I want to know is, what is going to happen next.”
A tapping sound interrupted us, and I saw Anza stiffen. Tom, looking much the worse for wear, like the rest of us, stopped before us. His face was full of pain and, even as tired as I was, I could sense his turmoil.
Nervously he cleared his throat, “I know you two have good reason to hate me, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to run a sad story on you both, but you do deserve an explanation.” He said, pausing.
I nodded, and a rather unwilling and skeptical Anza did so as well, a moment later.
“My mom died before I had any real memories of her, so growing up it was just my older brother and my dad. He was an old fashioned type, complete with the ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ thing. More redneck than redneck, that was my Dad. Seems like he hated everyone not like himself. He was always working, or drinking, so it was my brother John who took care of me.”
Tom looked at us with tears in his eyes, “I loved my brother, but I found out the hard way, that he was ‘different,’ one day when I came home from school early. I hardly knew what gay was, only that it was bad. Somehow, Dad found out about it from me, and there was a fight. I never saw John again, but Dad beat me as if it was my fault somehow. After I graduated, I left home and have never been back.”
He closed his eyes, the tears running down his cheeks. “I could see the two of you were happier, and somehow a great weight had been removed from you. That was something I just couldn’t admit even to myself, because that would mean what had happened to my brother was also wrong. If that had been wrong, then it was I who had somehow given him away, who’d been at fault.”
Fighting the emotion within himself, my friend fell silent.
“Tom” I said softy in the silence. “I’m not a ‘shrink,’ but it sounds like you need to forgive yourself. There’ve been times I’ve wanted to kick you in the nether regions, but I’ll always been your friend. I forgive you.”
Anza’s voice joined mine, “Tom, I never asked or sought to become who and what I am. It’s simply the way I am, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I made the choices I did to preserve my sanity and my life. My family wouldn’t, couldn’t, accept that it was something that I had to do because I had no other choices.
“They disowned me, Tom. It’s one thing being treated with disgust by strangers, but another for it to be done by those you love. I made up my mind that if someone didn’t care for who and what I was, tough. I wasn’t going to roll over and die for no damn one, live with it“.
She paused, “I forgive you, but only on one condition Tom.”
He’d quietly wiped his tears away and asked, “And that is?”
I heard the pain in her voice, “Find him and tell him what you told us. We don’t know what is going to happen to us, but if you have the chance, please find what happened to your brother. Go to him and ask his forgiveness.”
I hugged her as the tears fell. Tom just nodded and walked away. My empathy knew he was feeling as broken up as my lover, but his damn male pride wouldn’t let him show it, MEN, Argh! Somehow, being stabbed in the back by his ex-fiancé had broached a barrier for him. Watching him leave, I hoped he would remember we were here for him when he needed us. Right now, I was fighting sleep again.
The Major, who was still glowing bright, and others, came to see me, as well as Dee, who was awakened by all that was going on. Soon enough though, being punched, sliced, cooked, and radiated caught up with me, and sleep won.
Heroes of Justice: Second Star to the Right … !
Location: Earth, March 19, 2007
I stood in the cool March afternoon, looking at the empty, yellow construction taped lot. Even after it been cleared, there were still signs of the burned building that had once stood here. A sign, leaning at a haphazard angle, proclaimed the new location of the Cosmic Forge, while another promised that a new office complex would soon begin construction. I forced my eyes past the one, lonely, sun bleached, plastic reef and flowers listing at an angle in the churned dirt.
It had all begun here. This was where we had departed the only world we’d ever known, and had stepped into a larger universe. Kicking and screaming all the way, perhaps, and don’t forget, confused, as well as baffled about what was going on.
We’d made discoveries. Danny and I had found love. There was no need for me to look for him because I could feel his presence as he snoozed in the car behind me. Well, we had left our hotel room much earlier than needed, and so it was our own fault for having so long to wait.
We’d awakened in Our Lady of Mercy Hospital, full of tubes and IV’s. Astounded, the doctors and nurses didn’t know what to make of all of us recovering from our comas at nearly the same instant. Of course, some of the guys had already been moved to private, or long term treatment centers.
At first I had wondered if it’d all been a dream, but almost immediately I felt the warmth and love from Anza, or Danny, the name matters not. It wasn’t as easy to talk to each other as it was before, but beyond a doubt, our bond/link was still there.
‘You’re lucky to have survived that freak electrical accident,’ we were told. Impossibly, Mike’s computer had overloaded and exploded, shocking all of us who were nearby. The fire that started, burned down the Cosmic Forge game shop, but Pete, Chuck and other brave souls, had managed to save everyone but one.
The shop was covered by insurance, and utility company records actually let investigators track the power surge right to the shop. An out of court settlement had provided medical care for us, and if used wisely, would mean we would never have to work again, unless we wanted.
My parents were shocked by the relationship between Danny and I. We never flaunted it, but we didn’t need to. When confronted, I just smiled and told them that you never know where you might find love. Fact is, we were both more than a little uncomfortable, as well as depressed for obvious reasons. For those among others, the last few weeks had been really unpleasant, but bearable just the same.
You see, we have a secret. Some might call it a dream, but not the six of us. Like the way it happens in dreams, none of us recalled just how we got there, but there we all were. We were still our characters, or avatars. Me, Anza, Morgan, Will, Mark, Tom and of course Mike as himself. It wasn’t just us, but Major Victory was there too. All smiled as he and Morgan quietly sought each others hands.
It was a friendly kind of neighborhood bar and grill. You know, the kind with pictures of past patrons, and memorabilia, covering the walls. We looked around at the pictures and trophies of past heroes and heroics, while the smells of appetizers cooking were rich upon the air, along with other scents…pleasant scents.
Sitting in a corner booth was a grandfatherly like, rumpled senior citizen. Before him was a chessboard, with a game upon it that had just ended. The black king had been toppled, signaling checkmate.
“Come my friends! Please, seat yourselves,” his old, but still rich voice greeted us.
We all gave each other a wondering look but, did as he asked.
I was a bit wide eyed, for I’d spotted what I swore was the Egyptian God Horus minding the bar, complete with apron. Anza and I were both a bit out of it, but I think we recognized that, now, finally, we would find out what our futures would be.
A waitress dressed in traditional Greek robes brought us drinks and, once again, dream-like was just what we desired, without asking for it.
“Although I must apologize for my servant’s misunderstanding your world, and your apparent Shanghaiing you, I must congratulate you on a job well done. However, all of you did signify that you agreed to the terms that were clearly spelled out.”
He held up a hand, “Please. I know you have questions, but first let me say my piece. You saved that world from the grasp of a being that would have used it as nothing more than a fruit, to be squeezed dry of everything that could prove of use to it, and then discarded. Thanks to you, that world now has a chance to find its own destiny."
A truck, pulling up next to where Danny and I were parked, pulled me from my wool gathering.
Will, grinning as he stepped out, drawled, “Should have known you two would be here first!”
We shook hands, and then I, throwing convention to the wind, hugged my friend.
“I wasn’t sure I was going to see you here today,” I told him.
Shaking his shaggy blond head, he disagreed, “Before what happened, most people would’ve called me a loser. I lived in my parent’s garage and, although I made decent money, there really wasn’t a future in it. Then, in a roll of the dice, with the odds quadrillions to one, I got a chance to live out my dreams. They say be careful what you wish for, but I got everything I ever wanted.”
With a little smile he continued, “Mr. Chang is going to have to get used to a new grandson-in-law. I love Lin, and this time away from her has only made me certain of it.”
I glanced down at my phone and saw it was about ten till one, and went to wake Danny. He gave Will a wide smile, seeing him, but we all turned, hearing more cars behind us.
Morgan was smiling as widely as the rest of us as we greeted him with handshakes and more hugs. His eyes were bright with tears, and I didn’t need a superpower to know they were tears of happiness and anticipation.
Mark had lagged a little behind him, but was no less enthusiastic in joining our reunion.
“You too, Mark?” I asked him. “I didn’t think you had a reason to want to return, since you’re so well off here. What’s the story?”
He blushed darkly at being the center of attention, but replied, giving a self-deprecating little laugh, “Heh, heh, Okay, maybe I don’t have anyone waiting on me to return, but all of you are my friends. If you go, what reason do I have to stay here?”
We got another good blush from him as we hugged him again, among more laughs from our gang of friends.
Involuntarily, all our eyes glanced down to check the time, while others looked, wondering if he would make it. No one had to say who it was our eyes kept looking for, even as we wondered if he was coming.
As it got closer and closer to the appointed time, we all stepped across the yellow caution tape and made our way to the center of the lot. I could feel my and Danny’s butterflies. Praying with every fiber in our bodies that what we had dreamed was true, we all remembered what else our abductor and benefactor had told us.
He’d said, “It is known to me that some of you wish to remain with the friends that you’ve made here, while others might want to return home. You were also taken from your world abruptly, perhaps leaving your goodbyes unsaid, as well as other unfinished business. I will return all of you to your home world, but one month later at the same time and place you departed the first time, a portal will open. Those of you wishing to continue in the service of Justice, and return to your adopted world, can then return.
“It is a troubled place, and the recent meddling of the Dark One and his minions hasn’t improved matters. I’ve been wondering how to best address those issues, and if you agree to return, it will be part of your duties to help as best you can. Call it a branch office if you would. You might be called away from time to time, but it will be your new home. Consider it a reward for services rendered, above and beyond the call of duty.”
His eyes turned to Major Victory, “Now, I understand you wanted to meet me, for there was something you wanted to ask of me. You need say nothing more. I know the loss of your family and friends has been difficult for you. What I would like to know is, do you feel the same now?”
For the first time since we had known him, our friend and teacher seemed at a loss for words. Major Victory’s eyes found Morgan’s and he then found his voice as he softy said, “No, as long as we’re together, I’d like to stay.”
The grandfatherly old man smiled, saying, “I thought that you might.”
He lifted his tankard, “Now, a toast.”
Self-consciously we all followed suit with our glasses, watching each others faces, remembering the trials we’d faced and overcome.
Our host’s voice rang out, strong and true. “To those of brave hearts, and selfless courage. To Justice!”
So here we stand. The five of us, waiting for lightning to strike again, and the impossible to happen once more. Our goodbyes had been said, and affairs settled. Each digit of the clock seem to take forever to change.
Intent upon the time pieces, we almost missed the sounds of one last car pulling up. Startled, we all looked at each other, and then at the late arrival, Tom. He was hesitating, as if unsure of his welcome. The driver, a man, with a family resemblance, was giving our friend encouragement.
Then the world turned green! A light appeared behind us, as a brightly lit disk opened like a window or door to another world.
I’m not sure who started shouting, but soon we all were all yelling for him to hurry! “Run, Tom! Hurry!” while all of us looked anxiously back at it for any signs of closing.
They embraced, and Tom opening the door leaped from the car running for us, then inexplicably stopped! He turned back to the driver and we all heard him yell, “Come with us. Come with me! You told me you didn’t have anyone here and about the mistakes you’ve made. Where we are going is a chance for an new start like no other! Come with me John.
Now was the driver’s turn to hesitate. Somehow our calls for Tom to run changed to both of them to hurry. Suddenly the brothers were dashing towards us!
Catching them, our eyes were bright, and all of us were grinning like idiots!
Our newest recruit tried to ask, “Is this alright ….“ but as one we cut him off.
“YES! The more the merrier!” Turning, we all grabbed hands, and breathlessly, together, we leaped into the green!
Officer Hill cautiously got out of his cruiser. The report had come in about a hour ago, of bright green lights, of all things. There were four cars and a truck parked in a recently cleared lot, and even stranger one of them still had its engine running with the doors wide open. If memory served, this was where that man had died when that store had burned down, just a few months ago.
He’d taken a look around and it had even gotten stranger. Officer Hill had done his share of hunting, so the still recently cleared lot made it simple to follow their tracks. It looked to him to be seven sets of prints, of running feet, but then, they all ended at the same point, in the middle of the lot.
Pushing up his hat he wondered just what had happened. All that came to mind was, maybe a helicopter could have lifted them out, but the question was, why bother? He was getting a strange feeling about all of this. Stay a cop long enough, and sooner or later you run into the unexplained. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of them.
On his way back to call in his findings, he stumbled over something, mostly buried. Looking down, it surprised him to find a book in one of those plastic baggie things collectors put comic books in. Amazingly, it looked to have survived the fire, water damage, and the bulldozers. He seemed to remember it had been a comic book shop, or something like that, here.
‘Maybe one of the guys back at the station will want it,’ he thought, tossing it into the passenger seat. Picking up his mike, to make his report, he was curious about what kind of a game would be named, “Heroes of Justice!”
Have you ever wondered how the world would be if psyhic powers were real? How would someone who could see past the bodies we wear to the true person within, see us? However, because we are humans it is all too likely that some with such powers would use them selfishly. This is a story of one such man, the Hunter.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
The Hunter pulled into the drive of the lower middle class home. His vehicle was as carefully selected as was his attire to blend in. The older, very common mini-van wouldn't draw comment and neither would his drab uniform.
As the final touch he reached out with his well-trained 'Bender' talent, deftly dulling everyone's attention over his arrival. It'd taken him weeks to narrow down the location of the intermittent psionic contact. Like most new talented, her mind glowed with the strong emotion that had triggered her emergence.
In this case it was extraordinarily powerful. While the Psionic Studies Foundation had a legally mandated right to search out and train young 'talents' so they weren't a danger to themselves or others, this girl offered other possibilities. That was why he was here.
A net search revealed a Mr. Henry Fowl live here and that he'd recently lost his wife of thirty years, Evelyn, to cancer. Strangely, no mention of children could be found, but the Hunter had found dolls and other signs of a young girl while on a cautious reconnaissance of the residence.
The Black Society's clairvoyants had correctly identified the new talent as a young girl. Her mental signature was unmistakable. Certain assumptions could be made such as just entering puberty and the loss of Evelyn Fowl, being the keys to the recent flowering of her talent.
Due to her strength she couldn't be remotely, from a distance, bought under control by the Society's 'Benders.' That was because of the powerful forces of grief and passion the girl was feeling. However, there was answer to that. It was this girl's remarkable potential that had caught the Society's attention.
While the Foundation acknowledged the mundane world by kowtowing to ULTIMATE and the world of the mind-blind, the Black Society was the arm that made certain that its interests were protected without regard to anything as non-consequential as the laws of man. What was the mere power of superheroes and the technical accomplishments of mankind next to the boundless possibilities on the mind?
The old man would not be a threat. While the girl's untrained power had kept the Hunter from entering her last guardian's mind, in a direct confrontation he was confident he could easily overwhelm that unknowingly 'borrowed' protection.
To secure a young talent like this girl, who was completely off the books for the Black Society, would be quite a triumph. Already he was one of the top 'troubleshooters.' This would further assure his raise in the leadership. Politicians might rule nations, but the Foundation with help of their unknown Black brethren ruled them.
His telekinesis had the deadbolt and rape-chain unlocked in a handful of seconds. He could only exert a few pounds of pressure, but years of practice had turn that talent into an invaluable tool. Advancing quickly, his TK closed the door behind him. There was the old man to deal with.
The double metallic clack of a weapon's hammers being cocked, startled him. It was also pleasing. The pure power of this girl to hide a mundane this close to him. She would be make a very effective addition to the Black Society. Of course only after suitable indoctrination with drugs and other tools of the trade. Like the Hunter, such things as morals, or a conscious would only be a hindrance in furthering the Society's goals.
Confidently, he lashed out with an invisible whip of telekinesis that would mimic the symptoms of a stroke.
The Hunter's mouth dropped open when the old man only sighed instead of collapsing.
“Now that wasn't very wise.” Dressed in a rumpled, ill-fitting gray suit, the balding ginger haired oldster held a double barreled shotgun with the business end aimed at the Hunter. “My eyes and reflexes might not be what they once were, but with this I can't miss.”
Hunter didn't hesitate. Using his talent, he mentally leaped at Henry Fowl's mind.
And promptly bounced off.
Startled and surprised didn't begin to cover it. Using what folklore would call his 'third eye,' the sense given to him by his talent, it showed him the impossible.
The young girl, he'd been searching for and the old man who'd just lost his wife was one and the same.
“Ah, now you see the truth.” The shotgun never wavered an inch as the recent widower spoke. “I'm a lot like Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up. However, fate saw fit curse me not once, but twice. In my hearts of hearts, along with forever being a child, I'm a girl.
“A girl who cried as her body grew not breasts, but hair and muscles.” The bitterness was biting as Henry Fowl recalled the past. “Something about that stunted or stopped my mind, my soul, from growing older although it did nothing to stop my body. I knew what was wrong, but was helpless to stop or cure it. Perhaps the same fear that kept me from telling anyone else also helped kept me from revealing my something 'extra'.”
There was more than one way to complete any task. His TK lightly extended seeking the mechanical assembly of the firearm.
“It was meeting Evie that saved me.” The sorrow and sadness flowed off of the old man as he spoke. “She accepted me. In a lot of ways she was a forever child like me, but better able to step between the adult and the child's world. Together we supported each not just as only the man and wife the rest of the world saw, but as best friends and playmates.”
The Hunter kept his success to himself as he TK fused the parts together. No one would be pulling those triggers.
“Losing her hurt worst than my parent's death or the childhood as a girl I never got to live.” Henry's sad eyes looked up at him. “You've made a mistake.”
“And that is?” The Hunter asked, his hand slowly bringing up the tranq gun he'd kept hidden beneath his jacket.
“Just because my heart of hearts is that of a child, doesn't mean I'm don't have decades of experience in the use of my power.” The young girl smiled within the old man's body as she TK 'tapped' the pair of shotgun shell's 'primers' with her power. Just as good as the falling hammers, both barrels fired throwing the intruder away.
“They all fall down!” She whispered the old nursery rhyme, but then composed herself pretending to be 'him' again.
“Hello?” Henry called the police. “There's been a break-in and he had a gun. I had to defend myself.”
He and Evie had always known the dangers of the Foundation's heavy handed self-interest. However, her love had kept that inner little girl content and happy, despite the busted-hand of cards fate had dealt. Knowing the end was near, Evie did her best to help prepare her beloved for what would come.
Called Robin because of her red hair that little girl felt so alone and afraid after the one she'd love so much and for so long had gone away. She just couldn't hold all the hurt inside and some got out for the mind-peepers to see.
The one that laid dead in front of here had been very icky. His thoughts had been all edges and angles with none of the warmth of most people. She had seen far more than she wanted when during his last moments when his 'light' had faded and his thoughts were unguarded.
She didn't want to, and knew she wasn't ready for what was to come, but Robin did what she had to do. No way did she want to be taken by such 'bad' people. However in those thoughts were also clues to those who could help her. There were those who knew of and disagreed with this 'Black Society.'
Her bags had been packed for sometime knowing her visitor was coming and accepting that there were too many memories for her to stay here.
Turning to face the house where she and Evie had been together for so long, the tears fell. From the dead man's memories she knew the vehicle was clean and not monitored. Like the dead man she didn't need a key.
“Bye bye Evie. I love you. ” Robin whispered, before beginning her next journey … alone.
“Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?”
“I Need a Hero” -Bonnie Tyler
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. A big thanks goes out to Cathy who proofed and generally make this readable. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy
By
Grover
06/07/2009
“Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?”
“I Need a Hero” -Bonnie Tyler
The pounding of feet behind me was not a good thing. I broke out into an outright run for my life. My book bag and long hair flew, as I took the corner so fast I had to grab hold of the stop sign to keep from careening out into the street.
Never the biggest boy in my class, nor very athletic, the thick humid air of the summer afternoon burned my lungs before I had covered even half the block of my neighborhood’s old brownstones. Not daring to look back, from the corner of my eye I caught a beefy hand reaching for me.
A tearing jerk ripped my book bag away, sending me spinning out of control into the old brick wall, bouncing off it, and stars danced in my vision as I rolled to a stop. Ouch. My heart pounded in my chest as I wheezed for breath.
“I am so dead,” I thought, as the coffee colored face of Malcolm X Burns loomed over me. Yeah, he was named after just who you think. You would have to go a long way to find someone more bigoted and just plain mean than MXB. Worse, in the eyes of our school, the brute could do no wrong since he had single handily sent our high school football team to the State conference.
That didn’t make me feel one damn bit better as he reached down for me, cracking his knuckles. In one of those silly timeout moments, I could only look up at the gathering clouds above us, threatening an afternoon thunderstorm.
“Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? I need a hero.” I plaintively misquoted from that old song by Bonnie Tyler, as Malcolm’s monster-sized hand palmed my face, pulling me up off the ground.
Now you might wonder why a teen like me would be thinking about an old song at a time like this. It was all because of a class assignment. We were studying myths and legends. Our assignment was to find incidents and examples of them in modern culture. Me, I picked that old song from the 80’s. It was rather fun, researching the Hercules’ myths and mentioning how the tragic Greek hero turned up in modern culture. From that campy TV series with that Kevin guy to that song I had just mentioned.
” “Herakles, son of Zeus, hero who ascended Olympus, thou are dearly needed right now."I whispered.
Stars flashed in my eyes again as MXB slammed me against the old masonry so hard flecks rained down on us. My own private nickname for him was Moronic eXperimental Bully. However, none of this would have happened if not for that frakking, damn them to hell, do-gooder.
From my very first step into kindergarten, I got outed as a girly boy, a sissy. Needless to say, I hated that title with a passion. Absolutely, I had no intentions of spending the next 13 years as a victim. I may not have been very big, but I showed everyone that I fought dirty and had no idea what a fair fight was about. Yeah, I got in trouble, but from that time on, most learned you left the crazy kid alone. I was just more trouble than I was worth.
Mostly that is, because I was still picked on, but I had drawn that line and everyone knew exactly where it was. Of course being thought a little psycho didn’t make me a lot of friends. So being enterprising, I found my own in the library by way of Heinlein, Clarke, and Lackey. Later on I added to those by making my own stories and characters when I ran out of the sort of stuff I liked to read.
I kicked out at the big Neanderthal, right between the goal posts and slammed my head forward in a head butt.
A second later, I dazedly cursed myself because not only was he wearing a frigging cup, but I should’ve known his brainpan was filled with rocks after damn near knocking myself unconscious.
The big ape, just looked at me crossways, and smiled. Holding me with an arm as thick as, not my leg, but my whole frakking torso, he threw me down. I rolled limply among the contents of my torn opened book bag, scattering papers and books as the strengthening storm’s wind picked up.
Frakking do-gooders! I always knew somewhere along the line, something had gotten seriously screwed up. Here I was a girl, but I was stuck in a boy’s body. Talk about a completely screwed up situation. My parents had no idea what to do with me running around in my sister’s dresses. They dragged me off to this quack who, I quickly figured out, needed a shit load more therapy than I ever did. At least I knew what was going on in my head, while this ass was about as clueless as they came.
I clammed up, but fast and spun out a fairy tale about how I was jealous of all the attention my sister got. I just wanted my share. The idiot bought it, and from the moment I my feet got back inside my house, I was Double O Jane. I made damn certain that I was never ever caught again. No secret agent could have done better covering up traces of my activities.
Hitting the computer, I found out the real scoop on what I was going though, and not that never-never-land psycho-babble that quack was spamming my parent’s bank account with. Despite the medical warnings, I very carefully started self-medicating with puberty blockers as well as developing The Plan.
It was a simple plan. Save every damn penny I could while I still lived on my parent’s dime. I also fell into a nice little racket of personal computer fixer. A lot of kids are computer savvy nowadays, but a hell of a lot of adults barely make half-ass users. They are always downloading crap they shouldn’t, or not paying attention to proper protection. That is where I come in.
Someone in the neighborhood starts having computer problems, and I come over and straighten it out. Usually it is something pretty damn simple, that Ad-Aware, and a delete of several hundred little problems that had mushroomed into one big frigging mess, fixes the whole thing. Occasionally, it is something more, but rarely more than I could handle. When it did, I didn’t try and snow anyone. That earned me a nice rep for being honest, and more business. More business put more money aside for The Plan.
What was the Plan‘s final objective? The moment I hit 18, I was going to get my plumbing remodeled. Everything was on schedule, even with the economic crash that all the morons were carefully not calling a depression. A rose by any other name and a sack of shit by any other label still stinks.
I rasped as MXB kicked me in ribs. Maybe I had been too smart for my own good. I had everything figured, but that damn moron brought in by the school system. A kid, sort of like me, had gotten herself killed by a fellow student. She was either sloppy, or had parents more on the up and up far more than my clueless progenitors. Well, in short, the fat asses on the school board were trying to protect themselves from lawsuits, and got this frakking do-gooder to advise them on gender issues.
The bitch was to make sure that gender variant children were treated fairly. Just my luck, that, some damn how, she locked on me like a frakking smart missile. Went all crazy with what bathrooms I was using, and sensitivity awareness shit for the staff.
The problem was that everyone was so used to me, they never noticed that I had stopped developing like the rest of the testosterone over-dosed knuckle draggers. Running deep stealth, I was all but invisible until she blew the whistle.
As soon as the bitch opened her mouth all hell cut loose. I got sent for blood tests which, of course, identified the blockers I was using. Then it was off to the damn shrink again because this time they had proof I had snowed the stupid bastard the first time. Just how many times do you have to tell a moron that you are not gay? No, it’s not a trick question, but I sure as hell wish it was!
Looking upwards, I saw swirling lights and these really weird shadows in the black storm clouds above me. Wow, either I had gotten hit in the head harder than I thought or that is the strangest damn lightning I have ever seen.
Looking around, I saw a few cars pass by, but wouldn’t you know it, not a one stopped. Like I said, MXB was gold around here, while I was just the frakking freak. He picked me up and threw me against the wall again. With a twist, he dragged me into the nearby alley.
Hey, how about that! He was not a total moron after all, since he could now finish beating my brains out with a little privacy. I tried boxing his ears, but I couldn't quite reach him. With a shrug, he threw me into the trashcans and other muck I didn't want to think about too much, hidden out of sight in the gloom.
A sad truth here. Two hundred and fifty pounds of football player trumps anything, even a psycho less than half his weight, could throw. His posse, who finally caught up with us, just stood around grinning, watching the freak get pounded. It was not as if he needed the help.
After my carefully crafted veil got torn away, MXB and the rest of the muscle bound jocks zeroed in on me faster than a skinhead at a bar mitzvah. Even still, I had almost made it. The last school day for the year was over and I had bee lined for home and safety. Just that close, Chief!
I can tell you this. I still don’t know how that bitch, discovered me, but if I ever get the chance to thank her, she will need reconstructive surgery!
I didn’t try moving. I was certain that he had broken at least one rib and I was in enough pain without adding to it. Must be losing it, because up though that narrow crevice between buildings, I could see those weird clouds circling with even more of those lights and flashes now. Was a tornado forming? I hoped so because I could sure use some relief down here!
I heard one of MXB’s posse, say something about the faggot has had enough. I guess some sort of argument broke out, but since I really couldn’t move, watching the sky was a reasonable distraction, while waiting for him to finish killing me.
Then Crack, Boom! The lightning bolt burned afterimages into my eyes as it nailed the mouth of the alley! The stench of ozone and burning jocks briefly overcame the odor of the heap of garbage my body was decorating.
Blinking my eyes, I had to fight to focus on the impossible sight.
Jocks lay all about twitching from being too damn close to the lightning strike. MXB was struggling to stand and still smoldering. What should not be there was this dude who stood even taller than the 6’ 4” of my tormentor. I mean this guy was huge. My jock tormentor was big for a high school footballer, but this dude was like pro-wrestler gigantic. Even more impossible was the golden lion skin and the club he carried. Okay, anyone else would call it a fence post, but in his hand it looked positively tiny.
“Fear not fair maiden, I will protect you!” The mirage rumbled from a chest like a V12.
“Jesus! Who writes this guy’s dialogue,” I muttered trying not to cough because of the pain.
Mirage or not, Mr. Impossible, who could not possibly be wearing the Nemean lion skin, strolled pass the fallen jocks.
MXB looked as if he saw the same illusion. “What the frakk!”
The big curly brown haired guy spoke, “Watch your tongue cur! Mayhap, you need a lesson in how to treat the gentler sex.”
The jock spat back, “Just who the frakk are you supposed to be? You frakking stupid or something? That’s a freakin’ sissy faggot. I’m doin’ the hood a favor!” He said, with hate dripping from his voice.
I could now see that Mr. Impossible had a beard, as he smiled unpleasantly. “Then a lesson it is!”
MXB, the terror I’d lived with for all ten of my school years, went down like clubbed seal pup.
As much as I would love to see the jock get some of what he’d been dishing out, I didn’t want him dead. My frakking life was complicated enough as it is. Grasping, I said, “Don’t kill him.”
The giant stood there a moment, bouncing his fence post in his hand as if he was thinking it over. “Tis’ a lesson I promised him, not a death.”
He then walked over to me, kneeling. I could see anger darkening his features as he accessed how bad I was hurt. Glancing over at where MXB slumped against the wall, I could see him reconsidering his decision.
I grabbed his hand. “Please don’t, but would you mind calling an ambulance. A fleeting look at the all the still smoking electrocuted jocks made me amend that. Weakly I added, “Better make those plural, ambulances.”
The man, who definitely couldn’t be who he looked to be, said softly, “Do not worry comely one. I will not let you come to harm.”
He stood and took a couple steps away from me deeper into the alley. “Hey Hercules! I’ve got a problem down here that’s not in the manual!” Mr. Impossible shouted up into the storm.
Another Crack Boom! Rang out as lightning struck twice. Deafen and blind by the near strike, I blinked trying to see.
Standing there next to my savior, who thankfully wasn’t who I had feared, was another giant who stood even taller. He had to be almost 7 feet tall. I swear, even his damn muscles had muscles, but unlike Mr. 'I’m running around in animal skins,' this dude dressed like the worst attired Pro-wrestler you ever saw. Gaudy does not even begin to cover it. Oh, my violated eyeballs!
His bearded brown haired head surveyed the carnage in the alley, “Nice job! Wow, you did a real number on them coming down so close. Personally, I would have come down behind them and wracked them all with my club. However, nice backhand when you nailed the leader. Not bad for your first job of heroing.” He said, bouncing on his toes, full of “That’s my boy” vibe.
I wanted to puke.
All the while, Junior tried to get his attention. “Hey, Hey, Hey!”
Blinking, Mr. Muscle-bound senior, looked down, “Yeah?”
Junior Mr. Muscle-bound pointed at me bleeding in the corner. “What about her? She got hurt bad before I could get here.”
The guy, who could not possibly be Hercules, walked over to get a closer look at me. “Hey, she sure is banged up good.”
Getting a little fed up, Junior demanded, “Well, do something! You’re a Greek god, right? Heal her!”
Muscle-bound senior replied, “No can do. I am the god of heroes, not healing. It’s out of my providence. Maybe you should call an ambulance.”
Junior yelled back, “I don’t have any pockets! My cell phone disappeared when you dressed me like Captain Caveman. What’s the use of being a hero if the person you’re supposed to save dies anyways?” He said agitatedly waving his arms.
Senior rubbed his bearded chin. “Well, I guess it’s not much of a job if the fair maiden can’t reward you properly. That’s half the fun of this hero stuff anyways. It is your first gig, so I guess I should help.” He said winking at me.
“Asclepius!” He yelled up at the heavens. “I need you!”
Yet another lightning bolt cracked and boomed into the alley! Thrice now, I‘ve been deafen and blinded. I knew that name because of the paper I wrote. The mortal son of Apollo and the only other hero besides Herc … oh never mind, to ascend to Olympus, the home of the gods.
He, unlike the two muscle-bound dopes, who I named Senior and Junior, was dressed just as you expected from a doctor; the long white jacket, stethoscope around his neck and a black medical bag in hand. What wasn’t normal was the staff with the snakes wrapped around it, he had in his other. In case I was misunderstood, I do mean live snakes, ick!
Looking at all the bodies littering the alley, the doctor gave a long suffering sigh. “What is it with you two?” He said, tapping his staff. The snakes slithered right off of it, on their way to the twitching jocks.
Turning back to Junior, he raised an eyebrow at the lion skin and club. “I can’t say if that is an improvement over his or not.” He inclined his head at Senior’s colorful professional wrestlers’ costume.
Dropping the corny speech, Junior shot back, “Hey, they were in the way!” Pointing at MXB with the, 8’ long if it was an inch, fence post, he explained, “He was beating the crap out of her, while they covered for him. I just let him know, that was no way to treat a girl.” He said, with that apex predator smile again.
The doc knelt next to me opening his bag. “I have never seen anyone who can get in as much trouble as you two do, over women.” He said, stuffing a thermometer under my tongue, as he picked up my wrist as if to check my pulse.
I rolled my eyes. Someone was going to be really disappointed when they figured out I only partially deserved that pronoun. What can I say? I was working on it! Besides what was the frakking deal with the temperature thing and the pulse? Hello? I have just the shit kicked out of me! Here I am bleeding to death on top a pile of frakking crap, and he wants to take my damn pulse? Of course I could not say a frakking thing with that thing under my tongue, even if it didn’t hurt to merely breathe.
Senior looked down at Junior dressed in his lion skin, and shrugged, “Hey! That’s a classic! Besides it worked just fine for me back in the old days. Even today it is still proof against blades, and it’s good against bullets too!”
Junior still carrying his fencepost blushed, “Do I really have to dress like this. It is a little drafty.”
Senior pointed a finger at me. “It’s her fault. I really didn’t have a choice.”
“When she prayed to me for help, that was the image she had in mind. Besides, what was wrong with this costume? I had it ready in case I got called for help from gymnasia or the palaestrae. I think it’s perfect! The wrestlers today are so colorful!”
Doc, there rolled his eyes as he took the thermometer out and examined it. “Well, that answers one question. She is a male.”
Mr. Muscle-bound Senior and Junior looked completely dumbfounded as I blushed again, even though hurt. Just great, this is my week to be outed by just everyone!
Leaning over to get a closer look Hercules senior asked, “Are sure Asclepius? I’m sure that it was a woman’s prayer that asked for help.”
The doc started rummaging in his bag for something. “It was. Rather, it was a prayer from the feminine soul hidden within the clay of this boy.”
The big guy asked surprised, “Really?”
Meanwhile Junior was giving me doubtful looks.
However, Senior gave me another sort of look, an appraising one that caused me to blush once again. It did not help at all that I remembered that his rep had him almost as bad as his old man. If it was alive, it was fair game for sex. Hell, I was not sure just what my orientation was. I saving that for after I got my remodeling work done down there.
I most certainly was not going to have anything to do with this muscle-bound idgit who kept his wife home pregnant, while he ran around screwing everything in sight! Of course, since this muscle-bound jerk could not possibly be that muscle-bound jerk despite what the available evidence kept suggesting, it was all a moot point anyways, right?
The Doc had found what he was looking for and started smearing some salve stuff on my hurts. I don't have a clue what it was but damn, did it do the job. After being bounced all over the sidewalk and alley I was all scraped and cut up. No pleasure feels quite as good as when serious pain is gone. I damn near swooned. By the time he had finished I was frakking covered in the stuff.
Very carefully, I did not think about how he had that much salve in that little bitty tube, nope, nothing supernatural here going on here. It was just a pair of pro wrestlers, and their doctor buddy, that just happened by to save me from MXB and crew. As relaxed as I was, it was not all that difficult to make myself believe my comforting lie.
Doc dabbed a bit of that stuff on my split lip and, despite being careful, I got a taste. Honey?
Reaching back into his bag, the doc replied, “Yes, really. It’s a medical condition.” He said, sighing. “So much we know now. If only we had known all of this back in the old days.
Leering, Senior asked, “Can you cure it?”
Junior interrupted still blinking trying to grok all the news, “Hmmm, Don’t you think you should ask her first, I mean him, oh, you know what I mean.” he said turned red, getting tongue tied with the pronouns.
The Doc looked up at Junior then down at me meeting my eyes. “I really don’t think that will be an issue.”
He might or might not be a Greek god, but the compassion in his dark eyes assured me that he was a doctor, a healer. My answer was in my eyes.
The doc hung his head. “Like you I cannot wave my hand and change her to as she should be. Gods we may be, but the two of us don't have the power of Zeus, or even that of which we once had long ago. The only way for me to cure her malady would have serious consequences.”
He held up a bottle of pills. “Extract of Ambrosia, the food of the gods. Zeus himself permits me to have these, because of our vulnerability in these latter days. However, to give One to a mortal without Zeus’s express permission risks his displeasure.” Sighing he put the bottle back in his bag.
I heard hisses and moans from the pile of jocks that represented most of my high school’s athletic program. Just what those snakes were doing over there I did not want to know, but at least the idiots still lived.
Old Senior gave Doc a pleading look. “Hey Asclepius! It’s the kid’s first hero job. Cut him break will you? How is she going to give him a maiden’s favor if she’s not a maiden?” He said winking at me.
Feeling lots better but weak, I stuck my tongue out at the moron. Even if I did have my plumbing in order, these panties weren’t dropping for no damn one!
Doc looked up at him. “You, above all others, should know better. There are those on Olympus that don’t like you very much. You know who I’m talking about.”
All the while, out of sight, the big dummy was motioning with his hands for Junior to dig into Doc’s bag. Jesus H. Christ! These are gods? I’d seen better from preschoolers!
Turning back to me, Doc winked as he examined me. “The salve has done its work and she’ll be fine in a few hours.
Behind his back, Junior dumb-ass finally got the idea, as he pointed a finger at himself, as Senior motioned for him to take that bottle of pills.
I couldn’t keep my eyes from rolling as Doc smiled down at me, obviously knowing what was going on. “She is in good health, and my salve will help keep her so. She has already begun the early stages of her transition, although I do hope she consults with a medical professional before taking any further steps.” He said, giving me a stern look.
Junior had just grabbed the pills, as Doc whipped back around, closing his bag. He tapped his staff again and his snakes came slithering back, coiling up its length. “You are lucky young lady. I do not make house calls for just anyone.” With that, a peal of thunder ranged my ears again as he disappeared.
The big guy grinned madly, asking Junior, “Did you get them?”
Junior held up the bottle uncertainly. “Yeah, but should we be doing this? You heard him say how we could get in a lot of trouble.”
I tried to pull my self up, but had to use the slick, garbage stained wall to help me. “Alright you two. This may come as news but this maiden ain’t putting out for no frakking one. You better think twice before you come anywhere near me with those pills. I admit they would solve a lot of my problems, but if you guys are for real, the other Greek gods are out here too. Zeus and Hera have a mean reputation for anyone who crosses them. You should know this better than anyone,” I accused Muscle-bound Senior.
He rolled his eyes, mocking me. “She’s a woman alright just listen to her. Nag, nag, nag. Just give her the pills, and I bet you she takes them. You can get your reward, and then we can get you ready for you next act of heroing.”
Junior seemed a bit slow, but understanding hit him as he finally worked out what reward the older was talking about, as he blushed red. He stammered, “Ah… didn’t rescue her for that. It was the right thing to do.
I could see that MXB finally had regained consciousness. He slunk out of the alley where the rest of his posse was slowly getting to their feet too. Seeing two giants now, I guess they decided to try and find someone else to beat up.
Dumb-ass Senior was still eye-rolling. “Kids today! You save the girl, and then she shows you how much she appreciates you rescuing her, with a little roll in the sack. What’s wrong with that? He asked innocently, holding his hand out to Junior for the bottle.
“Whoa buster!” I warned him. “I’m fifteen. One, five, you know 15 will get you twenty? That’s if I had the proper plumbing, which I don’t, and no, I am not going to take those pills because I have big enough problems as it is.”
Junior’s eyes budged out, “Fifteen! You’re only fifteen?” Shocked, He handed the bottle to the larger man.
Dryly, I pointed out to him, “I guess it is a little hard to tell with the blood and bad light, but hello? Didn’t you see the book bag outside? Look at me. I’ve been taking hormone blockers. I can pass for 12. Maybe you need to get your vision checked there, Mr. Junior Hero.”
I gave Senior a glance. “You I know about. Just stay away, okay? You want thanks? Okay, thank you both, and that Doctor guy too, but that’s all you’re getting, got it?”
Junior nodded sincerely, but Senior had a cagey glint in his eyes. I raised a hand to make my point more forcefully when he tossed a handful of something right at me. Damn it!
I was on the inhale, and sucked them down before I could spit them out. Coughing, and still weak, I fell to my knees.
“Hey,” yelled Junior, “What did you do that for?”
Senior dumb-ass just looked pleased with himself, but asked, “What did she mean by fifteen gets you twenty?”
While I coughed my guts out, Junior replied shell-shocked, “Statutory rape. Oh my Gawd, how many of those things did you give her, him I mean, damn it!
Though the tears running down my cheeks, I saw Senior’s confused expression. “Statues? You mean Galatea, Pygmalion’s wife? What has that to do with this?”
Then, remembering the rest of the question, the big idiot held up the empty bottle peering in. “All of them I think. That should do the job. You‘ll get your reward real soon now!” He said, with a big smile.
Junior exclaimed, “Didn’t you hear him say ‘give her one?’ Oh, Gawd, she’s overdosed. I’m going to jail. It’s not fair! I just wanted to be the hero!”
Meanwhile, I was trying to make myself gain control of this Fluster Cluck. Still half choking, I knew what I had to do. What goes in, must come out.
What I had not counted on was the damn things were magic!
My fingers were as far down my throat as I could get them, when I first felt the glimmers of warmth hit my stomach. Reminded of that time my older brother dared me to drink a shot of liquor from my progenitor’s locked cabinet, my hand flopped to my side, and all thought was lost as the warmness enveloped me.
From the transgender stories I was not supposed to have access to, it seemed that changes like what I was experiencing always had to feel the same as having sex. Then again, almost everything in those stories was about sex in one way or another. Since I had successfully brought my puberty and male development to grinding halt, I really didn't have a very good idea what sex was like anyways. As that warmth oozed though me, this was more like getting teeth chattering cold, and then entering a toasty heated room.
Although even my skin felt nice, and glowing, I could feel my insides moving around. It didn’t hurt. It was like having a mildly upset stomach my whole life, and then suddenly having everything just settle into place with a sense of incredible rightness.
A small, “oomph!” of surprise escaped me.
The wolf whistle told me that not only my insides had moved around.
Still lost in that wonderful warmth, languidly, I opened my eyes.
Junior amazed, mouthed, “Whoa!”
Herc Senior did not bother to hide his lewd leer. “What did I tell you? Boy, did she fill out!”
Curious I looked down at myself. My chest was no longer concave, but had a pair of proud beauties perched there. Another wave of warmth ran though me, but I knew this one had nothing to do with little pills or magic. It was simply good old fashioned happiness.
Way back when where I was first working on “The Plan,” and making arrangements for subterfuge to mail order hormone blockers, I had determined my future and fate. That didn’t mean I could ignore all of my classmates, and even my own two years younger sister, when she began, what was it Herc called it, ‘filling-out.’
I did the best I could to not let it get me down, promising myself that, come 18, I would have the best pair money could buy. I was a realist. My parents had already made clear they would rather have a son, than help me become the girl I knew I was. Their choice of shrink proved that. So screw them! That did not keep me from stuffing all manner of things under my shirts to give me that lovely profile I wanted so much.
Awareness that I had an audience kept me from cupping my new acquisitions. Folding my arms underneath my breasts with a gentle squeeze assured me they were all mine. By all rights, my clothes should have split from all of the new me. However, somehow they had stretched to cover everything. That was not saying much, since my bottom had gained curves just like my chest had. Between them, my torn t-shirt and jeans came far short in their attempt of legally covering me.
Looking up, I thought Junior’s eyes were going to pop out of his head, but Herc Senior’s leer had spread from ear to ear.
We were all so intent on me and my transformation, I guess we all missed those stormy clouds doing their weirdness thing again.
I saw Herc give a startled glance upwards, followed by a mouthed, “Oh shit!,” just before he disappeared.
The next thing I knew I was sprawled on a cool white marble floor. I found my hair was also longer now as their curly dark locks pooled around me. Looking around me I saw Herc Junior standing up with a real worried expression on his bearded face.
I stood up unsteadily. The circular room we were in had Greek columns with a checkerboard pattern floor. Junior was looking up at the ceiling and I followed his dazed stare and wished I had not. Up there all around us were these huge outsized thrones. In front of us, were two that were more massive than the others and worse one of them was occupied.
I have no idea just how damn big she was, but the throne she sat in gave me a real good idea who she was. Glancing around me at the room again, it hit me I had gotten it wrong, not a checkerboard, but chess.
Someone had been watching the Clash of the Titans, but considering the deep shit I thought we were in, I was not prepared to complain.
The almost blinding white business power suit, and expensive looking jewelry she wore, spoke of power.
Next to her, on one of the comparatively smaller thrones, was another woman dressed expensively, but her style spoke less of power, than it did of control. The owl carved in the high backed chair told me who she was.
Complete different was the next woman. Her flawless beauty was framed by clothing that yelled chic. She was beautiful, and she knew it. I really did not need to see the swan and dove above her throne, to identify her.
The next and last oversized giant up there was one I had already met. It was the Doctor, Asclepius. He was still dressed in his medical getup, and I swear he snucked me another wink.
Junior was looking notably pale and I couldn’t blame him one damn bit. Unless I had completely lost it, we were on trial by Hera, Athena, Aphrodite, and maybe Asclepius. He might be here as a witness, but I didn’t know for sure. I also did not know if it was a good or bad thing that so many of the others were missing. You know, Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, and most of the rest of the male Greek gods.
I did know that Hera hated Hercules' guts, and had tried to kill him any number of times while he was still a mortal. Worse, poor Junior was a follower of Hercules, and the big dufus had not even showed up to defend the poor sap. Particularly since he was the one responsible for both of us being in this frakking mess to begin with.
Just then, the Queen of the Gods decided it was time to get the ball rolling. “Henry son of Daryl and Mildred, you stole a tincture of precious Ambrosia from the person of the God Asclepius. What do you have to say for yourself before judgment is passed?” She asked, as her voice boomed at us from the giant.
Poor Henry, Junior, looked as if he was about to wet himself. Well shit! He had saved me from MXB. Knowing I was going to hate myself for this, I opened my mouth. “Excuse me Ma’am but may I say something in his defense?”
As all of those goddesses turned their attention to me, I was really regretting opening my big mouth. However that had never stopped me before. “He did take those pills from the Doctor’s bag, but he did so to help me.”
Looking at Asclepius, because I was afraid to point, I explained, “He said that I was suffering from a birth defect and that medicine could help cure me.”
“Hmmm Henry,” I said, remembering not to call him Junior. “He had saved me from a horrible beating that I believed would have ended in my death. Since I accidentally summoned him, Henry was only finishing his task of helping me, when he fed me those pills.”
There I did it. “Stupid, stupid, stupid girl,” I berated myself.
Hera did not look the least bit impressed, but it was Athena who spoke, “We had not reached you yet. Terrance, son of Peter and Mary, you tried to profane the Ambrosia, the most sacred property of the Gods of Olympus. You tried to void them from your body like common refuse.” She accused.
I was on trial too? Frakk! “Ma’am, hmmm,” I said, trying not to stutter as I tried to buy time for my brains to work. “That was not my intention. If it is true that one of those pills could fix the problem I’ve fought with my whole life, then it would have been a great blessing.”
“However, your stories and legends are still taught in the world today. I knew how valued Necter and Ambrosia were by your Pantheon. Bluntly, I have enough problems as it is without this, I said waving my hand. If I could have thrown up the pills quickly enough, no harm would had been done, or that is how I saw it, especially since they were thrown down my throat without my permission.
“Additionally, in the world today, when a Doctor tells you one pill, he means only one. Taking more than the prescribed modern medication is not only unwise, but damn dangerous.”
Finishing rather lamely, I said, “I think I swallowed the whole bottle.”
They must be taking turns because Aphrodite began speaking. “You say you suffered as a boy, since you are actually a girl. If so, what do you think of your new form?”
Biting my tongue to keep from making a smartass reply, I was going to say that I didn’t know, since I didn’t have a mirror, when the entire circular wall became covered with them.
For the first time I was able see just what that bottle of pills had done to me.
“I’m gorgeous!” leaped from my mouth before I could shut the damn thing. Unt Oh!
Languidly, the giant supermodel asked, “More so than I?”
Still in shock, I stared at my image. My skin was perfectly smooth and flawless. My once mousy, dull hair now had copper and gold highlights threaded though the brown that had gained untold depths.
What really blew me away was my face. I had spent endless hours on Photoshop, looking for just the right look for me. All of that time of changing and altering my image, and I had not come close to the one staring back at me.
It was still me, but perfect. The long lashes, exactly arched brows, my fuller lips that naturally glowed with color, they were all an absolutely perfect feminine me.
Oh shit! Still in shock, I knew better than to even think about answering that one any other way but humbly. Better yet, with truth.
“Ma’am I’ve been the ugly duckling my entire life. To see, to be, this beautiful is overwhelming. However, you are beauty itself. All beautiful women are but a reflection of your own perfection. Other mortals like me may seek that ideal, but we are fated to always fall short.”
The goddess of love and beauty seemed content with that answer and left me with my mouth hanging open when she defended me! “I am content with the child’s answer. I am familiar with her condition for it was not unknown even in the Golden Age.
“However, the follower of the God of Heroes is guilty, although there are extenuating circumstances; I believe, is the legal term in vogue. Like Hercules did so often, he carried out his task with, excessive fervor.
Hera’s face puckered up at the mention of Herc’s name. Determined to find fault with someone, she questioned Asclepius. “This would not have happened if you had not answered His summons.”
The Doctor simply nodded. “That is true my lady, but the healing of the wounded is my province. She was badly injured, as well as having suffered her entire short life with her affliction.
“She is correct that one pill is all she should have taken, but we all know the dosage was not of her choosing. I see no wrong doing on her part. Indeed, not of young Henry here either. If my directions had been followed, we would be short only one pill of Ambrosia, and our young lady would be free to start her life anew.”
He shook his head. “Now however, we have a problem. By giving her the entire bottle, her very essence is being altered. In time perhaps, she shall be much like a demi-god herself. For example, like myself who, as a mortal, who had divine blood flowing in their veins.”
“I put it to you, my lady, that this is a matter that concerns all the Gods, not just us few.” He said.
Athena spoke up in favor. “I must agree, but as we all know since we are now free to travel the mortal realm once more, all are busy exploring or rebuilding their base of worshipers. I suggest we decide on a probation for Henry, until all can be convened.”
Meanwhile poor Junior had been trying to get a word in edge wise. Thinking quickly, I kept signaling him to keep his trap shut with a wave of my hand.
Hera did not seem to like that much either, but asked, “What do you suggest?”
Athena smiled, “I have observed that Henry seems willing to obey the one who summoned him. More, she has a practical nature. I say have him geased to obey her until we can get a full council.”
Hera objected. “She is even younger than Henry. What assurances have we that she will take such duties seriously?
Aphrodite smiled. “I can take care of that. Eros!” She called.
Suddenly another person stood in the gallery above us. However this one was a young man decked out as an extreme sports punk. His dyed hair and wrap around shades gave him that devilish look so many of the girls at my school went for.
He looked down at us and up at the Goddess of Love.
She nodded at us, “Have her fall in love with him. Mind you, no lust for she is in many ways a child in a woman’s body.”
A shy twist of her lips that almost could be a smile as she said, “That will come … later.”
The punk lowered his shades. “Oh, you’re no fun at all, but no problem.”
Pulling up a skate board from thin air, he leaped down at us. I cringed waiting to be smashed to pulp by the falling giant, but instead a sharp pain hit me in the ass. Twisting around, I saw Eros, now normal sized, skate away with a paintball pistol in his hand.
Twisting around, I saw a handsized bright pink paint splatter dead on my right cheek. That SOB! As if my torn clothing wasn’t messed up enough as it was, that ass had to add to it.
Then I saw Henry and I think my heart stopped. A river of feelings hit me. He saved me from dying, and even stole those tablets for me, risking the wrath of the gods themselves. Hey, and he’s cute too!
His expression was one that said he knew he was in trouble. That is, right before the skateboard punk shot him in the ass too. As he went all goo-goo eyed, it finally hit me.
Eros! Wait a minute! That’s the Greek version of Cupid, the little shrimp with the wings and bow.
Wiping the pink paint from my stinging keister on my torn jeans, I carefully avoided looking at Henry. All this was real new to me. Puberty had struck me like a thunderbolt, all at once.
Above us, Aphrodite said, “Now she has a vested interest in keeping him out of trouble. He will, of course, be willing to listen to her words.”
Athena nodded, “I believe this solution will work. She is still under age by her people’s standards. He has strong morals against taking advantage of her, while she has developed into a practical and independent person, older than her years because she has had to hide her true feelings and self.”
The goddess of Wisdom gave me a stern look, “Sometimes too independent for her own good. However, even with this romance, this should work until we can convene the council.”
Apparently Hera liked the idea of the big strong hero being tied to my apron strings. “Then we are finished.”
She addressed me and Henry, “I would advise you two to stay out of trouble.”
Then she looked Junior in the eye. “You had better be on your best behavior. I am watching. You and your mentor,” She said, leaving us with no doubts that Herc was still on her shit list.
As for myself I had no idea if Aphrodite being on my side was a good or bad thing. After all she had Eros shoot us in the ass.
Glancing up at Henry, my heart went thud, thud, and I had to force myself to look away. No lust she told the Punk. Go easy on her, just love she said.
“This was easy?” I asked silently.
Henry, the big lug, had just stood there the entire time, staring at you know who.
A flash bang later, we were back in the alley.
I blushed at Henry’s stare, really awkwardly saying, “You can stop that now.”
Just as clumsily, he replied looking away, “Hmmm … sorry.
Really noticing all he was dressed in was that lion skin. “Don’t you have anything else you can put on?”
His turn to blush, he stammered, “Uhg … this was how you summoned me. Until I go home, I’m kinda stuck like this.”
I closed my eyes. Damn it! Even blushing, he was just so damn cute! “Okay I don’t know how in the frakk we’re going to work this. I hope you know we’re really frakked because of you know who. I also hope you know what happened when Eros shot us in the ass.”
He replied, “Yeah, I know. What we’re feeling isn’t real. It’s just magic.”
I disagreed. “Oh it’s real all right! No matter if it was forced on us or not, we’re feeling this attraction. I’m sure as hell don’t want to know what the full effects of this are like, if this is going easy on us.”
Henry admitted, “I guess you’re right. We’ve just got to not let this get the better of us.”
“You got it,” I agreed. “First, treat this just like they said, as probation. No more heroing for you until we get this straightened out. Second, you see your mentor, you can tell him from me, ’Thanks a lot.’ Be sure to add a lot of sarcasm.
“You do realize, I have to go home and try to explain to my white bread family that I’m not only a girl, but a frakking demi-goddess, because a big dope poured a bottle of magic pills down my throat?”
I continued, “The only good news is that today was the last day of school for the summer.” Then, thinking about it more, I added, “And, if they make me go back to that idiot of a shrink, I can tell him that I’m hetero and definitely like boys.”
Biting my tongue as I said it, both of us blushed red again. Not trusting what I would say next, I urged him, “Go ahead and get out of here. It’s not that far to my house from here.”
Henry shook his head, “No.” He then began picking up my books and things that had blown all over the place.
I sighed. I thought he was supposed to do what I told him, but I did need the help picking up my stuff. Examining my book bag, it was a total loss. Stuffing the loose papers inside the books, we recovered what we could.
Finished, I told him again, “Okay. Now you can go.”
“No,” He said. “Not until we’re at least are in sight of your door. Those dudes might still be hanging around. I’m not taking any chances. Which way do we go?”
Rolling my eyes, I led the way. “One thing we learned is, although the gods seem familiar with the world today, they really don’t have that good of a grasp on it yet.”
Henry added, “I know, to my regret. I’m sorry about all of this. I’ve really screwed this up. I mean Hercules just appears in front of me telling me how he knows how I wanted to be a hero. I couldn’t say no.
“The next thing I know is I’m fighting those muscle bound creeps that were beating you up. Then the whole thing with those pills, and then it really hit the fan.”
He sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to be careful about listening to him.”
Doing my absolute best not to notice that a boy was walking me home and carrying my books, I stopped in my tracks. “Listen here Henry, until we get this thing settled no listening to him at all. If he has a problem, let him take it up with the three ladies. You know the ones, I’m talking about! Seeing how he took off, leaving you holding the bag, I don’t feel sorry for him at all. You got me?”
Looking very bashful, he nodded. “I understand. You know I always thought he would be different. The Twelve Labors and all the adventures he had. It was Hercules. He was the Man.”
Then he lowered his head, “Some man he was. He really let us down.” He said sadly.
I guess it sucks to find out your heroes have feet of clay, even the ones that are gods. “It’s probably more complicated than that, given how Hera was so pissed. For all we know he went hunting for Zeus to get help.
“The point is we don’t want to get in the middle of any arguments between them. Be respectful, and mind your P and Qs.” I advised.
Awkwardly again, I asked him, “This is my house. Now will you go?” I said holding out my arms for my books and stuff.
He turned red again. “Okay, but if you need the help, just call.”
Trying not to smile at him, I asked, “Should I pray to Herc again or will Shazam do?”
He grinned back, “Oh I think Shazam will do just fine.”
This time I utterly failed, and smiled back.
The big dope’s face lit up. Turning all pseudo knight on me again, he replied, “As you wish my lady!”
Ka-Boom! He was gone.
I ran inside, and threw my books down on the table. I do not have a boyfriend. I do not. I do not. Oh shit!
My Mom’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Terry! Where have you been? You need to take out the trash.”
I took a deep breath. Oh boy, here we go. “Mom? A funny thing happened on the way back from school.” I said as I entered her abode.
She turned to me with a steaming casserole dish in her oven mittened hands.
Shatter! Crash, went the dish and dinner onto the floor.
“Ter, Terr, Terry?” She asked hesitantly in distress.
My eyes shut, I nodded. That could have gone better as I peeked out at the splattered mess of food all over the floor.
I took a deep breath. Compared to almost being beaten to death and facing three, all too human, but powerful goddesses this was nothing. Besides if it really got bad, I had a hero on speed dial, 742926.
I can do this. “Mom you see, it’s like this …”
On his way back home for Christmas, Larry Danvers is about to receive a really big surprise!
This a fanfic of Lilith Langtree's Retcon Universe. All the Characters within belongs to someone else such as DC or Marvel comics. With that in mind this story still belongs to me and I reserve all rights to repost. It is not for profit, simply for fun. Insert standard disclaimer! A big thanks goes to djkauf for looking this over for mistakes.
Larry Danvers-
Finally, I breathed out relieved. Normally I didn’t have a problem flying, but these were hardly the usual circumstances. Okay it wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure felt like it. Since this was the middle of the Christmas Holiday traveling crush that epitaph would do very nicely.
I’d been relatively lucky all considered. So far only five hours had been wasted fighting my way past all the screaming children, short tempered adults, and completely unsympathetic airline employees. Having the chance to upgrade to first class instead of waiting for only Gawd knows how long till the next flight, I’d leaped at the opportunity to get off the ground and into the air.
The weather was trying to turn nasty and my instincts told me it was now or never. No way did I want to spend Christmas snowed in at Logan International. The turbulence as we climbed to cruising attitude shook us up real good. It’s was a relief when the fasten seat belt sign blinked off and the Captain announced everyone could bring out their toys. Plugging in the power supply that first class had, I opened up my laptop, but then stared in dismay at the desktop background that came up. That was not supposed to be there. Damn him!
At least the thing was family friendly because even first class was packed with rug rats.
The first time he’d done this, it’d been funny. The second round was annoying. This one was downright agitating.
A little girl, in the seat behind mine, eyes grew large as she saw the picture, “Supergirl!”
I hung my head in misery. Alex was going to die very, very slowly.
Professor Otto Swan’s classes were very difficult to get into, and had a reputation for being very tough. However, I was looking forward to each and every minute. The old professor was teaching only one class a semester now, all that his health would allow. That made all the hard work I’d put in to make the cut here at MIT worthwhile since this one would be one of his last. Unlike many with his prestige, he’d never become famous because of contributing discoveries or inventions.
Instead he turned the adage of “Those who can, do and those who can’t teach,” on its head. Professor Swan did have his share of achievements, but what he had mostly were pictures. Books and books were filled with all the snapshots and pictures of those who were inspired by his unconventional off the wall teaching methods. He often said, the successes of his students were all he needed. While his own accomplishments were modest, the number of Nobel winners and other very successful scientists who credited him for their own accomplishments was legion.
To say I was happy to be here didn’t even come close. I’ve always been the proverbial science geek. Not your Star Trek or whatever other science-fiction fanboy, but real world science. In a lot of ways, I’ve always been too smart for my own good. My school years were pure hell since half the time I understood the subjects better than my teachers. Add in my being the runt of my class and you have the classic nerd syndrome. Let me tell you; being the peaceable sort, I worked very hard at blending in and being invisible in that high threat environment.
While most teenage boys were eying girls, mine were glued skyward. What was out there beyond the Earth had always fascinated me. It wasn’t that I lacked interest in girls, but rather that I was simply clueless on how to approach them. Somehow I always ended up being that ‘nice’ guy friend. Asking my parents for help with my dating dilemma was an exercise in futility with their advice, ‘Just be yourself.’
Sometimes I think both of them were bigger geeks than even I. Mom was one of those mothers who’d bombarded me with Mozart while I was still in the womb. Instead of a baseball mitt or a football, I got telescopes and science kits from Dad. On the other hand, my parents had me taking Aikido almost from the time I could walk. I think this was a hold over from their own bullied school days. Sure I could defend myself, but like I said, I’ve always been the peaceable sort. I’d rather avoid trouble if I can. Besides only an idiot, which I’m not, picks a fight with Neanderthal jocks double their size.
So being practical, I concentrated on the things I could do something about. I’d always had this thing about flying. First it was my Dad buying me these foam gliders, but soon I was making and designing my own. When I got that aforementioned telescope, my interest went further to beyond the atmosphere into space. Let me tell you that I’d launched more than my share of model rockets, many of them products of my creativity. Space might be my passion, but everything interested me. Sure, I dreamed of going out into space, but there was also this insatiable intellectual curiosity. Everything of science interested me. I was like the baseball trivia nut, but instead of sports statistics, I was a sponge for scientific facts from every conceivable field, which made deciding which college courses to take a problem.
I solved the problem by taking as many different science classes as was allowed. My major might be astrophysics, but I had at least a ground floor understanding of everything from biology to aeronautics.
Turns out that was exactly what Professor Swan was looking for this semester. The rest of my classmates were just as interdisciplinary, which was a good thing. Professor Swan, living up to his reputation, threw all of us a curve ball. Old, but still walking under his own power, he presented us with a challenge. “Get mankind off planet Earth.”
His voice, still strong, commanded our attention. “Current thinking puts warp drive and whatever other fictional Faster-Than-Light transportation you can name centuries away and perhaps even in the realm of the completely impossible. Although, what is impossible today might be an everyday occurrence tomorrow,” he added with a humorous smile.
“Currently, there’re many different proposals of how to get to orbit cheaper and more efficiently. Space elevators, improved rockets and a host of other ideas are in the works as we speak. Space tourism is literally just around the corner with Spaceship Two and Bigelow Aerospace’s orbital hotel modules that are in development.
“However, what about beyond Earth orbit? The moon is the closet chunk of rock to us, but even there, relatively close to Mother Earth, it’ll be difficult to support a colony. The light gravity and the extremely fine dust will make any long term settlement problematic. The long gestating manned mission to Mars suffers its own problems. Yes, gravity isn’t as much of a dilemma, but crews and prospective colonists will have months of travel to withstand. Additionally, environmental conditions will require considerable material support which will be very costly because again of the distance.
“Being able to terraform the Red Planet would solve many problems, but we’re far from that goal given the failure of the Biosphere project. We couldn’t maintain an already stable environment much less design one. Which incidentally doesn’t bode well for any of the projects for cleaning up our home world’s debatably damaged biosphere.”
He paused looking at us, his students. “And that’s simply Mars. We haven’t considered Venus or any of the moons of our system’s gas giants which are even further away and present even greater challenges.
“Without terraforming, that leaves modifying man to fit the environment. It’s not a new idea. The science fiction writer Fredrick Pohl wrote ‘Man Plus’ over forty years ago describing the use of cybernetics to enable a man to live on Mars. However today’s advances in genetics as well as the cybernetics Mr. Pohl envisioned suggests we might very well be capable of bringing his concepts to life.”
Professor Swan gave them all an intense examination. “We’re going to explore what kind of alterations are necessary not only for survival, but for colonists to thrive on various planetary bodies in our solar system.”
He gave a wryly smile, “And yes for the purposes of this class, Pluto will be considered a planet. Think of it as humoring your eccentric old professor who’s grading your efforts.”
That got a polite round of laughs since we’d all had teachers in the past who’d only wanted their own words regurgitated back at them, right or wrong.
Raising his hands, the Professor called for quiet. “There’re any number of factors and considerations that will have to be taken into account. Environment and biology are most certainly factors, but also how to sustain a long term settlement growth. Which means that unlike Fredrick Pohl’s cyborg, we will need to include reproduction.
“As I’m sure you see, our task is not going to be an easy one. Each week we will focus on one to two planets. Please check your syllabus for details. Each planetary investigation will begin with individual papers outlining what each you see as the greatest challenges and your solution. Then we’ll group those with similar methods together to polish it for a joint discussion of what is the best solution given our present circumstances and technology.
“Our first line of inquiry will be Mars since it’s our most likely destination for mankind’s first colony on another world,” he said smiling. “Be prepared ladies and gentlemen to work hard.”
From the very beginning of the class, Alex Thurol and I were thrown together. He was my opposite it seemed in every single way. While I’m your atypical skinny Caucasian nerd at five feet seven, African-American Alex towered over me by a half foot. My shaggy mane of brown hair always looked unkempt no matter what I did with it, in stark contrast to Alex’s shiny baldness. What we had in common were our ideas and creativity in responding to the Professor’s challenge.
Both of us had similar thoughts for dealing with the environmental hardships each planet presented. On Mars for instance, both of us came up with the idea of using organically boosted fuel cells since any number of bacteria produces hydrogen. I used as many of the same solutions that Earth’s evolution of biological diversity had come up with as I could. So did Alex, but he also didn’t hesitate to include cybernetics when necessary to overcome similar technical quandaries.
With us working together so much it take long for us to become friends despite our differences. Very quickly I learned my new friend was an incurable prankster. He just couldn’t turn down a dare of tweaking someone’s nose. I learned the hard way not even his friends were safe one morning around mid-terms.
Like many science geeks, I know my way around a computer. I guarded my laptop like my life depended on it. Much of my academic work was in its hard drive as well as my personal stuff. Sure I took all the usual precautions and more such as backing up everything regularly, but Alex got me anyways. Running late and booting up for the first time that morning I found a very different and embarrassing desktop background from my usual Soul Nebula courtesy of NASA/JPL.
The half-undressed Robert Pattinson and his brooding stare did absolutely nothing for me. Everyone else got a big laugh out of it at my expense. I did my best to take it in good humor. After all Alex hadn’t touched anything else. Just the same, the breach of privacy bothered the hell out of me.
I wasn’t the only one who fell victim to his pranks. Alana Langston was a cute red head who also spent a lot of time in our study group. Maybe I should say usually a red head since she changed her hair color so often. Like Alex and I, Alana studied the natural world for revelations. In her case it was the insect world, Entomology. Considering insects had been around for some 400 million years, under some very diverse conditions, there was a lot to learn from them, and our friend was an apt student.
She was also a casualty to Alex’s debatable sense of humor. However, unlike me who did their best to just blow it off, the fiery little red head did not. She retaliated with one of her own. She had the big guy squeaking like he was breathing helium for an entire class.
Strangely, Alex took it well enough although no one ever did figure out how Alana managed it. The three of us bonded together as friends although I kinda wished for more from her. My social skills were a lot better than they were in high school, but that wasn’t saying very much. I still ended up the ‘nice’ guy friend to my dismay.
I kept dropping clues I wanted more, but she never seemed to get it. Our relationship was confusing, because she kept at me to stand up for myself more. That was because I was usually content to let Alex speak for our group. What made her mad was that more than once our friend seemed to try to take credit for everyone in the work group’s ideas.
Then came The Event that changed everything, at least for us space science geeks. That was the day Jade of the Green Lantern Corps made her announcement to the world. Yeah, sure this Metagene would change the world, but for those of us in Professor Swan’s class it was much more.
First of all we weren’t alone in the Universe! That age old question had finally been answered. The second was just as important. FTL was real, possible and practical. Knowing that someone else had bypassed Einstein meant it could be done again. The rest was just details.
Some among my classmates wondered about the chances of their winning the galactic lottery and having the metagene, while others believed the whole thing was a hoax. I didn’t worry about the first. As matter of fact I considered it a little silly. We were all mathematicians. The odds of being so endowed were so slim, they were ridiculous. On the other hand, I wanted to believe her news for other reasons. Jade’s information made all of my dreams of traveling ‘out there’ so much closer to being reality.
All of us grew quiet as the Professor entered that morning after the news broke. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to describe the look on his face.
He stood there a moment looking out at all of us before speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, you should know that other sources are confirming what that amazing young lady announced yesterday. As far we can determine, she’s telling the truth.”
Professor Swan paused still staring at all of us. “Quite frankly, I’m insanely jealous of each and every one of you. A new age has arisen and mankind is poised to take the greatest leap of all. I want each of you to remember this day and the opportunity your generation has been given. You are among our best and brightest. I fully expect all of you to be at the forefront for I will not.”
There was complete silence in the room. We heard how his voice shook with his emotions and his regrets. Not a one of us dared make a sound.
He lifted his bowed head. “However, that is not going to happen today or even tomorrow. This news doesn’t invalidate this class's investigations. Now, I do believe it is time to deliver your workgroups’ synopsis. Mister Thurol, your group will begin.”
By the time the semester was coming to an end, it seemed it was all anyone could talk about, the meta-gene. Terra manifested during Halloween and there were rumors of others popping up all over the place. A lot of people were still thinking it was all some kind of hoax, but I trusted the Professor. With the kind of contacts he had with his past students, if he said he believed it, then so did I.
Alex was also a believer, but Alana was harder to convince. Even with the footage of Jade and Terra dealing with that volcano in Japan, she still had her doubts. Giving us both a hard stare, she scoffed, "You really expect me to believe superheroes are real? I can buy that this Green Lantern bimbo might be of extra-solar origins, but that she can fly around in space without a spacesuit with a magic ring no less? Get real!"
Frankly, I let Alex and her argue it out. I was hard at work on my end of term project. The Professor had us working on individual projects picking sites we hadn’t a chance to cover in class. There were many planetary bodies still left out there for us to tackle. Several moons of the gas giants and even the outer planets were available. However, I wanted to really push myself.
Since we had to get approval from the Professor, he gave me this questioning stare over the top of his glasses, “Are you sure you want to attempt this one?”
Earnestly, I answered, “Well sir, it’s very possible we’ll have the capability to terraform Mars before we’ll have the tools necessary to do what I’m envisioning. But, there are those who have already considered mining the gas giants. Additionally, with the possibility of life on Titan and Europa we could very well have settlements there. I’m simply taking the next step.”
“Very well,” He said, looking out over the top of his glasses at me. “I look forward to your report, my boy.”
That’s right a gas giant. Maybe I should say the gas giant, Jupiter the largest planet in our solar system at 318 times the mass of Earth. First of all since it doesn’t have a surface, I had in mind cloud cities like in that movie ‘The Empire Strikes Back.’ In the upper reaches the atmospheric pressures that crushed the Galileo and its probe would be much less.
In no way did that make my task any easier. The extremely hostile conditions would be very difficult to overcome. Jupiter actually produces more heat than it receives from the sun. As a matter of fact, the remains of the Galileo probably were vaporized by the heat long before it reached the area most considered the de facto surface.
Along with the gases in the cloud layer and the atmospheric pressures, living on Jupiter would be far more hazardous than traveling the long months there in the vacuum of space. Yeah, I know space isn’t really empty, but you know what I mean.
I decided to keep the outside form as close to human as I could. Given that my colonist would be, for all practical purposes, a self-contained life support system, really small spacecraft themselves, it didn’t matter what they looked like. Nevertheless, I believed keeping them human in form would help maintain links with humanity at large.
Next, the body itself would be very dense. Despite Jupiter’s huge mass, its standard gravity is only about 2.5 G given its rotation. That still meant even my skinny white bod would weigh 325 pounds there. Muscles would have to be made of materials able to function under such stresses.
The major organs would be separated into protective chambers much like that of a submarine. Each one could survive for a time on their own, but together they worked like individual symbiotes cooperating together for the common good. The circulatory system I saw being composed almost entirely of nano-machines. They would act as the blood of my Jovians, but would be much more versatile than organic blood cells. It would be like a superhighway trucking needed materials where they needed to go. They would also serve as damage control in case of injuries doing much more than clotting like normal blood. In such extreme conditions, any breach could be fatal so they would actually repair and rebuild. Further more the nanites would be factories tearing apart molecules for whatever materials and resources the colonist needed.
I could see the need for an active infrared vision system above and beyond possible thermographic sensors. In the cloud layer where our city would float, normal sight would be nearly useless. For that matter all the senses would need to be keen to survive the hostile conditions and help keep our colonist from stumbling around blind.
Additionally some kind of anti-gravity would be necessary if for no other reason than to give protection on the way to the colony from orbit as well as to help shield the human tissue from the effects of two and half times more gravity than they were designed by evolution to withstand. That’s not even considering that being able to at least float would be a very nice extra, since falling out of the cloud layer would mean death.
It would take one hell of an energy source to power all of this. At the very least a fusion plant or perhaps even more exotic, Zero Point energy. In any event, it would all have to be miniaturized to fit inside our colonist. They would no doubt be larger and I dare say heroic sized given all the things I needed to stuff inside them.
All science and engineering geek talk aside, my Jovians would be extremely tough, strong, and scarcely very human in anything, but appearance. In all except name, my colonists would be a Nano-Borg spaceship the general shape and size of a human being. I added more details in my report including the cloud city and even clothing for them.
I must say I was rather proud of what I came up with. That is until I presented it to my classmates. Most simply thought that by the time we had this level of technology the human race would have better things to do than colonize gas giants.
Alex simply smirked the whole time while I talked, but Alana was in those better-things to do camp. The only person who did like it was the Professor. He noted my use of engineering solutions and the total picture that included clothing and cultural adjustments.
After the class I had to know just why Alex had spent the entire class grinning at me.
His grin got even larger. “Let me give you a summary of your would be colonist shall we,” he said making fun of Professor Swan. “First they’re from a heavy gee world and so stronger than an organic home grown human. Next because of their density they would be all but bullet proof here. Now you also included active infrared vision which mean in a normal environment they could probably melt steel like a laser beam. You added antigravity that in a standard gee would allow them to fly. And to cap it all off you had to give them capes.”
Alex stared at me challengingly. “Do you get it now?”
I gave him a blank look. “They were cloaks and they've long been practical garments. For Jovians they would extremely useful not for warmth, but to keep them cool just like the robes of dessert dwellers here on Earth.”
He gave Alana a shy glance. Whatever he was getting at, she got his references. I honestly hadn’t a clue.
After he left for another class, I asked her, “What was he talking about?”
Then she looked at me like I was from Mars or somewhere much further away. “Didn’t you ever read comic books or see 'Smallville?'”
Still baffled, I shook my head. My parents disapproved of that media given all the inaccuracies they presented. When I watched TV at all it was usually the Discovery channel or one of its spin offs. Bewildered, I replied, “No.”
Alana rolled her eyes. “Go Google ‘Kryptonians.’ That’ll answer your questions.”
Then she took off too. I really can’t blame her since it gets so crazy around here during finals. For that matter I really meant to follow her advice, but I had other classes to study for.
I had to find out the hard way the next day. Opening up my desktop once again my colorful remains of a supernova provided by NASA/JPL was gone. In its place was a comic book style picture featuring seven blond women, six of them in different versions of the same costume. The odd one out was dressed in a white one piece swimsuit thing, but with a cutout revealing her considerable cleavage. Judging from the Superman figure standing in the back, they were supposed to be relatives.
A quick Google search of the artist, Ed Benes, his signature was at the bottom, yielded the title, ‘6.5 Supergirls.’
Then it hit me. This was what Alex was talking about. He’d thought my ideas for Jovian colonists were the same as these comic book characters. Reading a little for the description of these Kryptonians, I could see some similarities. On the other hand, I’d put in a lot of work into working out how to survive and thrive on Jupiter. This DC comics simply said Kryptonian blood cells absorb energy allowing them to do many of the same things my Jovians could do in theory. They completely left out for the most part why these aliens needed those abilities.
I didn’t have too much time to waste with this, but I couldn’t help myself from looking some more. I did find one version of the many stories about Krypton that stated that the fictional planet was a failed star with extreme environmental conditions although how a failed star ended up with glacial properties was beyond me. It could be like Uranus and Neptune, ice giants, but they lack the right chemical composition to have been failed stars. Anyways, at least part of that made more sense than trying to foster off our yellow sun as what gave these Kryptonians who were born under a red giant their superpowers. Then I was off running to class.
Catching up with my friends for lunch afterwards, I gave Alex a baleful glare, “Okay, I got it. My Jovians are somewhat similar to this Superman character. Now would you please tell me how you keep breaking into my computer? Violating my privacy is rude.”
He looked up from the deli sandwich he was munching on. “I can’t do that. How are you going to learn to protect your property if I do it for you?”
Then pausing to chew, he added, “Not Superman. Nope, you’re far too skinny to be him. You’re more like Super-girl. Her secret Identity was Linda Danvers, of course would make Alana, Lana Lang,” he said with a not so nice smile.
Alana sputtered spraying me with Diet-Pepsi.
Coughing and eyes-watering, she tried to keep from laughing. Alex didn’t. Shooting him an evil stare she replied, “So would that make you an evil genius like the Ultra-Humanite?”
Rubbing his bald head, he shot back laughing, “Could be.”
There I was covered in carbonated soda while my friends rolled on the floor.
Using a hand full of napkins, I did my best to limit the damage. I admit I didn’t take it well. How the hell was I suppose to know my work was similar to some damn comic book? Now, my masculinity was also being called into question. Worse it was by two of the only people on Planet Earth I considered friends.
Standing, I took my uneaten food to the waste receptacle, dumping it without a word. For some reason my appetite deserted me.
I’d gotten though high school without any friends. With yet more finals to take, I did not need this crap. With friends like these, well you know the rest of the quote.
What I did do was overhaul the hell out of my laptop’s security. I ran multiple anti-virus and malware scans just to be sure Alex hadn’t left any surprises. Then I changed all my passwords using a randomizer. Hell, I even physically locked up my laptop before calling it a night. Normally I don’t, but for all I knew he’d been sneaking into my dorm room to do his mischief.
“Ouch! Damn it!” Half asleep and failing to wake up I hopped on one foot trying to see what damage the corner of the dresser inflicted to my poor big toe. My dreams weren’t pleasant. No way would I be up at this ungodly time in the morning otherwise. I can honestly say I didn’t want to remember them.
The flashes of buxom comic-book characters with my face pasted on them were extremely disturbing. Even worse, my so-called friends were cast as the villains. I didn’t remember much of the details of the hows and whys we were fighting, but their taunts and jeers describing my dream’s overly feminine developed features hurt.
Despite my academic successes, the lack of romance in my life was a sore spot. Yeah, even a flaw and weakness affecting my self-confidence big time. I was not feminine or even androgynous, but I wasn't six-four bulging with muscles either. Yesterday’s catastrophe didn’t help at all. Alex, the bigger than life guy, who was everything a man was suppose to be, and Alana the one girl I had interest in, laughing at 98 pound weakling me, hurt.
Judging, me and my big toe was going to live, I checked my cell’s messages. Next week I was going to be on my way home after finals for winter break. Dad was supposed to let me know what the family’s plans were for the holidays. However, there was nothing from him, although Alana did send me an apology. Predictably there was nothing from Alex.
He might be my friend, but I was discovering a meanness to his humor. Opening my laptop, I moaned. There in front of me was once again Ed Benes’s art work, 6.5 Supergirls. Part of me wanted to throw it across the room, but reason prevailed. That would only hurt me, not Alex.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t my friend.
While part of me wanted to report him, I didn’t have any evidence. Besides that, the point was that after a careful examination, none of my files were touched. Once again, only my desktop background was altered. Just how he’d broken my security baffled the hell out of me. He had to have physical access to it since I’d turned the damn thing off before locking it up and going to bed. I finally decided there was nothing I could do except to tell him it wasn’t funny any more and ask him to stop.
What it did do was throw off my entire day. Not a good thing for taking end of term exams at MIT. Even still I think I did well. I was just out of sorts. That continued as I went to Professor Swan’s to get my grades for my Jovian report that served as the final for his class.
The good news was I got my A. The bad was the Professor had a visitor. I recognized her at once, the Green Lantern, Jade.
“My dear, I can assure you nothing my students have written poses any danger to anyone. It’s simply research into how technology and genetics might be able to adapt humans to colonize the planets in our Solar System. No actually technologies or actual techniques for developing such were mentioned. Many science fiction writers have done the same and more since many were at one time scientists themselves.” He said opening his hands frankly.
“I understand, Professor Swan,” Jade said. “As a matter of fact what data I’ve found confirms that. However, some technologies could be harmful as well as things that mankind isn’t quite ready for yet. I’m simply making sure.”
I stopped startled and turned to leave.
“Larry Danvers?” she asked.
“Huh, yes,” I replied surprised she knew me.
The Professor smiled gesturing for me to come in. “Yes, he’s one of my more promising students.”
Close up she was cute, but that paled beside what she could do and knew. Jade could fly to the other planets as easily as I could drive to Mickey Dees down the street.
“You’re the one who worked on the characteristics for Jovians?” Jade inquired.
I blushed red. When was I going to get over being so shy around women? “Yes, and yeah I know a lot I came up with is a lot like a comic book character. I didn’t know that at the time, but since the world he came from shares a lot of the same qualities of Jupiter it kind of a form and function equation.”
Smiling, she relied, “Indeed.”
Still trying to fight my red face, I added, “However, like a lot of my classmates pointed out for us to achieve this requires a very high level of technology. We’re a hundred years or further away from my Jovians. By that time we very might have our own methods of FTL. No need to risk such extreme conditions as those on gas giants like Jupiter.”
Jade inclined her head. “So why pick it as your thesis?”
“Well,” I said thinking about it. “First, I wanted a challenge. You have to go a long ways to find conditions more hostile than Jupiter. Second, because it is a gas giant it offers elements that are nothing more than theories such as metallic hydrogen and other perhaps even more exotic materials.
“At any rate I don’t see how my or anyone else’s work is any threat to you or this Green Lantern Corps of yours.” I told her.
Amused she responded, “How so?”
“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” I quoted. “Yours are eons above ours. What takes us the resources of entire nations such as sending a manned mission to the moon, you do with a ‘magic’ ring.”
“Besides you can’t stuff knowledge back into the bottle. Discoveries are usually made by building upon the work of others. One person might put all the pieces together first, but there are always others who were looking too. Except in the rare circumstances where some genius or idiot savant stumbles across something completely revolutionary it’s only a matter of time till it’s duplicated.
“Even then such breakthroughs are usually ridiculed and ignored,” I explained.
Jade raised an eyebrow marking my point, but replied, “If it was only myself that was threaten, perhaps. Don’t ever underestimate the ability of man to find ways of evening the odds. But in this case it’s not. There are those like Terra who are just coming into their powers. They are vulnerable to those will try take advantage of them.
“Additionally there is the concern of once seeing meta-humans using their powers others begin figuring out how it is done,” She said.
I nodded. “The Professor has said that before, too. Once you know something is possible, that’s half the research.”
He cut in. “Larry, I’ve told Jade, that being old fashioned, all of this class’s reports are in hardcopy. I know that you’ve probably have plans for the holiday, but how would you like to help me organize them into a single report? Not just for the Green Lantern Corps, but for future posterity as well?”
She shook her head, “I don’t really believe that’s going to be necessary Professor Swan. There’s nothing I’ve seen that makes me think your students are researching anything hazardous.”
Inclining her head at me, she said, “I’m more concerned about actual development rather than ideas. Moreover, if discoveries and inventions are hard to stuff back into that bottle, ideas are even harder.”
The Professor looked at her from over the top of his glasses. “Are sure my dear? Larry and I are as mad a pair of scientists as you’ll ever find. Further it’ll give me more time to try and pick your brain about what’s out there!”
She laughed, “I’m sure you would.”
He laughed along with her. “You can’t blame us for trying.”
Jade turned to leave. “I might be back to take a look at that report when it’s finished, Goodbye.”
Then she was enveloped in a green glow and was gone.
The Professor and I simply stood there in silence for a long moment.
“Well, that answers the question if she’s for real or not. Seeing is believing,” I said.
“That it is, my boy,” He said studying me. “However that doesn’t answer my question. Would you be willing to work with me pulling together all of this classes’ work into one report?”
Okay, there were the pros and cons to consider. On the positive side was the opportunity to work directly with Professor Swan. Additionally perhaps even more contact with Jade. Magic ring or not she was still a star traveler.
On the other hand, I would lose much of my free time over the holiday break. It could push me back into the ranks of the last minute Holiday travelers, not a good thing.
It really wasn’t much of a decision. I had nothing planned, and I wasn’t a fool. “Sure, Professor, I’ll be glad to help you.”
So while the rest of the campus emptied itself for Winter Break, I was left behind and wasn’t a bit sorry about it. I loved the work. Spending time with the Professor was a real experience. Jade did show back up which was cool, too. It was funny watching the Professor trying to get information from her about how her ship functioned and other information about life ‘out there.’
She took it in good humor, but of course didn’t say anything useful. I did get the feeling she was interested in me for some reason. And no, I didn’t fool myself into thinking it was my good looks either. After all, Alex and Alana did such a great job of humbling any thoughts I had in that direction.
The Professor also noticed it. He asked, “Have you had any strange, unusual, or unexplained experiences of some sort? Perhaps you have this Meta-gene everyone is talking about.”
“No sir,” I replied shaking my head. “The only unexplained thing I’ve had happen is Alex keeps pranking my desktop’s background. Nothing Meta about that at all except I wish he would stop.”
The Professor pulled off his glasses, “Alex Thorul is brilliant, and I’ve no doubt he’ll go far in the world. However, he has an ambitious streak that is perhaps more than a little worrying. He was entirely too willing to take credit for your work group’s efforts for my peace of mind. And now you tell me he is an able enough hacker to crack your system which I’m sure you provided with more than adequate protection.”
He gave me a very serious stare. “You should know by now that academics and the sciences are as vicious as any other field of endeavor. The theft of work and ideas are something you have to guard against. So while Mr. Thorul might not have done anything obvious other than alter the desktop, he very well might have looked at or copied your files.
“Don’t try and be modest my boy. You’re one of my best and most creative students. That was why I gave the okay to develop your Jovians. Others made fun of your efforts, but you came up with some novel ideas of how to deal with the hostile conditions. You called your colonists nanoborgs, but in truth they’re much more given the symbiotic relationship between your biological and mechanical components. In fact since they can in theory reproduce, they’re a whole new species!”
I stammered a replied, “It’s not that big a deal, Professor. Reproduction after all was part of the criteria necessary for growth of the colonies.”
Cleaning his glasses the Professor said, “That is so, my boy, but few of the others managed to integrate such diverse systems that your Jovians have in ways that aimed at keeping their humanity in the process. That is as much a part of science as the research. Taking responsibility for the changes your discoveries might have is very commendable. How many of your fellows do you think included that as part of their proposed colonists?”
I thought back to our thesis presentations. Many of the moons of the gas giants had been tackled as well as even Mercury. Form and function adaptations covered the entire spectrum. Wings and dragon-like features of the Mercury colonists for solar power and to radiate heat, to huge polar bear-like centaur cyborgs on Saturn’s moon of Rhea.
Shrugging I answered, “I don’t know Professor. I can’t think of any off hand, but I’m sure someone must have.”
Putting his glasses back on, he smiled. “Then you would be wrong. Not a single one, although your Jovians internally are much less human than most of theirs. Now there were a few that was implied, such as Ms. Langston’s Tritons, but not a one made that one of their primary design criteria except for you.
“That’s something that is very important to remember, the human element. Since before the day of Nobel, scientists have found their work and discoveries used for other purposes than the ones they intended. Consider your Jovians. You saw them as scientists, explorers and miners. However your friends could only remark over how powerful they would be in comparison with a normal earthling. Think about it, Lawrence,” he said leaving me alone with my thoughts.
And think about it I did, but perhaps not in the way he intended. I couldn’t help but look at those fictional Kryptonians again. Worse, I thought about ways to further simulate what they could do with technology. Okay, blue sky sci-fi tech, but still better than, ‘Hey, it works because I say it does.’
One of the biggest differences between my Jovians and Kryptonians were their flight and so-called super speed. With their anti-gravity Jovians could easily fly in Jupiter’s cloud layer which I saw as their home. However although they could survive in space for a number of hours, no way could they reach the gas giant’s escape velocity of 133,018 mph. That’s about Mach 173 give or take. Compare that to Earth’s of only being around Mach 25.
However, I had what I thought an elegant solution. Jupiter has an extremely powerful magnetic field. If my Jovian colonists had a skeleton made of materials able to interact with it they could use it for propulsion. What was neat, because in Earth’s lesser field it should also be enough to achieve orbit because of its lesser mass. Which opened up the problem of traveling where there wasn’t a magnetic field such as Mars. There was the fact the whole antigravity thing was pure speculation that no one knew how or if it would work. Perhaps it would only be effective near a planetary gravity well or could be it would work within the confines of the solar system pushing against the Sun. I’d wanted it for my Jovians to provide protection from Jupiter’s gravity more than as a flight system. That was also why I thought using the magnetic fields would work better. Oh well, back to the drawing board.
I finally decided to go for broke. My thesis had already been turned in so all of this was for my own amusement anyways. Rather than simply cancel out gravity and use a separate system for propulsion. Why not simply control it all by projecting gravity fields as necessary?
By placing a stronger one in front, a Jovian would be effectively ‘falling’ forward. Also this method would ignore all effects of inertial since the protector would be in a perceived state of free fall. Velocity would depend upon the strength of the gravity field being produced. Going really blue sky, if the field was strong enough it could possibly form Wormholes which was one of maybe-could-be methods of FTL.
All of this was well and good since all this stuff would have to be once again stuffed into a human being sized package somehow. I was back to the one person spacecraft where you were the spaceship.
Some problems were still beyond me like how to fit a power plant powerful enough for all of this or how do you protect yourself from the particles and heat generated from the friction of moving at such speeds. Those were just a few of the many I had no solution for.
Despite my time-wasting mental exercise with comic book characters, I got the Professor’s report finished on time. Both the Professor and Jade seemed happy with it, but she didn’t stay long before she zipped away. Since she started visiting us, if irregularly, I’d begun keeping track of her activities via the internet. For one woman she sure gets around. Did she ever sleep?
As for me, just like I thought, I was left traveling with the rest of the last minute holiday crowd. However, even that didn’t keep Alex from bedeviling me.
That was how I found myself at 30,000 feet with a little girl staring at the Supergirls 6.5 picture on my laptop.
It wasn’t her fault, but Alex’s. To her it was just a character from the comics. Sighing, I nodded, “Yes it is.”
Right then the plane jolted. Reflexively I grabbed the armrests. This high up at cruising attitude, we should be well above the bad weather. I was already refastening my seat belt as the sign came on. I’d just closed my laptop when the plane bumped again.
However, this time there was this long low moan like the sound of metal creaking.
That’s not good!
As the mother in front me got her daughter turned around and strapped in I tried to give the little girl a cheerful smile because of her fright.
Just then the whole plane kind of trembled. I was realizing that First Class was in the front of the plane and generally not the best place to be in case of trouble. That was my last thought before a tremendous roar of tearing metal ripped me, seat and all into the void.
I may have screamed, but the freezing cold froze everything. Refusing to panic, I tried to remember what the handful of people who’d survived falls like this did right. Most of it was number one, not panicking. Number two was going to be a hell of a lot harder. Pick out someplace to help break as much of your fall as possible.
I and most of the row of seats I’d been in were tumbling end over end in a whirling blizzard of ice in near complete blackness. I’d no idea of my orientation. It was amazing I was still conscious, but that couldn’t last long. Instead of the icy cold, I felt unbearably hot which wasn’t a good sign at all. That probably meant frost bite.
If I didn’t pass out, I had two minutes before a very sudden stop. Terminal velocity would be around 120 mph. I’d never sky dived, but I was going to get pardon the pun, a crash course.
First, I had to stabilize myself and that means leaving this pin wheeling roll of seats. My seatbelt snapped open, and I was free. Strangely I could see the wreckage of seats and their occupants fall away from me. Throwing out my arms, I tried to imitate the many sky divers I’d seen on TV and in the movies.
Finally I had some sense of up and down, and remarkably still hadn’t passed out. Had our plane somehow drifted below 15,000 where there was breathable air and incidentally bad weather? If so I’d only one minute instead of two and who knew how much of that had already passed.
I was still hot, and the possibility of frostbite continued to worry me. I didn’t want to lose any fingers, toes or worse. On the other hand, if I didn’t do this just right, nothing else mattered because I would be dead. If there was a thick accumulation of snow on the ground beneath me, I just might survive this. Not likely, but it had happened before.
What bothered me was I could still see my fellow travelers falling while I couldn’t see the ground yet. It’s night in an Arctic air mass, so how the hell was I able to see anything? Additionally, they were for some reason falling faster. True I was in that classic free fall pose to maximize air friction and minimize acceleration, but it shouldn’t make this much difference!
While I pondered acceleration rates and vainly looked for some sign of the approaching stop from hell, something else grabbed my attention. As if being torn from an airliner in flight in the middle of a winter storm trying not to think of a certain little girl falling below me, I felt the seat of my jeans rip.
It wasn’t just a little tear either, but the whole damn bottom splitting wide open. Resisting the urge to grope back there to find the cause, because that could send me spinning again, I tucked myself tighter so I could glance and see what was happening. Had a piece of wreckage hit me, and I hadn‘t felt it because of frostbite?
What I did not expect was, well, buns of steel? I didn’t know how else to describe it, them, me? Me? Hey wait a minute! What the hell is going on?
Mostly managing not to turn my fall into an out of control tumble again, my equipment and status check turned up some very critical components that were missing in action. There were even a few extras that I know I didn’t get on the plane with. The long blond hair streaming from my head most definitely was a recent addition. The other things, well, I was trying not to think about them for the sake of my sanity. That included the one piece I was really going to miss, as well the usual additions that go along with ‘buns of steel.’
I could only surmise the only way I could’ve changed so radically and quickly was the meta-gene. Extreme stress was said to be an activator. Certainly before I’d begun trying to reason my way to life, I’d been frightened out of my wits.
Still not thinking about the wider implications, I also had a good idea what I looked liked. Blond, very curvy, and a lot like a certain comic book character I’d just been looking at.
Now if I only had her abilities. That was easy enough to test. All this time my thoughts were centered on slowing my fall. Now I ordered, stop!
To my shock I did!
There I was hovering in midair.
A split second later, I was racing faster than ever before for the ground, before my brains could catch up with rest of me. Oh my gawd, that row of seats and that little girl.
I chided myself. That was how I was able to see all this time. The active infrared worked just fine in these conditions.
There they were!
In a bizarre surrealistic moment I saw the poor people trapped in their seats screaming as they rotated in slow motion. It sure as hell didn’t seem that slow as I tried to duck in and grab it. The situation was way too much like judging when to jump onto a moving merry go-round except let’s add another axis of rotation just for fun.
Finally I saw my chance, one of the support struts. Trying to stop the spin it nearly threw me off. Once again I was working with multiple axes. I don’t recommend trying to learn to fly and trying to rescue falling people at the same time, a sure recipe for disaster.
Getting the spin under control, I got another surprise. Oh look! So that’s where the ground is!
I put serious effort into stopping the fall, but I was fighting inertial momentum as well gravity. It was a losing battle. The strut was bending in my hands, and I feared losing it altogether.
“Hang on and brace yourselves! It’s going to be rough!” I shouted.
The ground was coming up fast, too fast. Desperate, I recalled my Jovian’s flight worked because of an antigravity field. As we got to the final few seconds of our fall I tried to will that AG field around my burden.
Either it worked or luck was with us as we impacted. My best guess we hit at about five mph because it shook everyone up pretty good, but no lasting harm.
While everyone else was moving about, I was bent over nauseous and heaving. That’d been too damn close. If I’d been a fraction slower these people would’ve died right in front of me.
Oh Gawd, I was a girl. My new additions hung from my chest. If my inflated ‘buns’ were made of steel what were these? The melons of titanium or were they the boobs of tungsten? I took a deep breath to try and calm my gibbering thoughts, but that didn’t work too well. It only showcased my new additions even more plainly showing that whatever the meta-gene had done to me, cold affected my nipples like it did any woman.
That curious little girl was crying, but I heard her gasp out between sobs, “Supergirl.”
Her near hysterical mother was trying to calm her daughter, but another shaken passenger was pointing at me accusingly. “You did this!”
My once loose fitting blue sweat shirt now snugly revealed a full figured woman’s breasts. My jeans were almost completely gone leaving only the waist band and belt resting loosely on my enlarged hips. Tattered remains of the legs hanging down did kinda look like a torn dress.
Crap, the plane! I looked up into the falling snow. There didn’t appear to be anymore falling wreckage. Was the plane still airworthy, but damaged?
I turned to those I’d saved who were looking at me like I was responsible. Oh isn’t this just great. “No, I didn’t. Do any of you still have your cell phones?” Crap was that soft high voice me?
Mr. Paranoid held up his. “Yeah I do, but you’re not going to get it!”
Still glancing up trying to see which way our original ride flew off to, I asked, “Do you have a signal?”
The nut trying to watch me and look at his phone at the same would’ve been comical if this wasn’t so serious.
Another guy answered, “I’ve got mine too, and I’ve got 911 on the line.”
I breathed out, “Great, get help out here. I’ve got to see what happened to the plane.”
Okay, that’s if I can figure out how to take off. In a whoosh of swirling snow in my contrail, cool, that wasn’t too hard. Pushing my new talent hard, I urged myself faster, and higher.
The sensation of being cold faded despite flying into the middle of blizzard. Even standing on the ground mostly naked from the waist down, I’d been only uncomfortably cold and not freezing. What did that all mean? I hadn’t a clue. Whatever doctor I got to examine me was going to have an interesting time. It was too damn bad that the Professor’s doctorate wasn’t in medicine.
In a flash of blue, I cleared the clouds into the night sky. Now where was that plane? Come on infrared and thermograph, I prayed.
Wait there!
A blurry trail of bluish pointed the way.
Winging over, I zoomed back into the clouds. Now this was where flying without instruments was going to get tricky. If the pilots kept control, they would try to get to 10,000 where there was breathable air and the cabin didn’t need to be pressurized. Unfortunately, I’d no damn idea of my altitude. Breasts and buns of steel, yes, but flight instruments would've been more useful.
However luck was with me again. There was enough of a heat trail to point me in the right direction, and they hadn’t deviated from their flight path. Coming into sight of the plane, the heat thundering from its engines nearly blinded me. Blinking, I had a weird kind of focusing thing going on until I could see clearly again.
Any doubts I had about if this was the right plane vanished as I saw the huge wound in the airliners forward third. Flying in closer, I checked for further damage. I found it on the starboard wing and engine. Carefully focusing my vision so I wasn’t blinded again, I saw it wasn’t producing heat and therefore was out.
Okay, this wasn’t good. Severe structural damage and flying on one engine were a bad thing. It looked like when me and the rest of first class went on our ride into the wild blue yonder, some of the debris hit the wing.
Pondering what to do next I saw frightened faces inside with their orange cap like air masks on, staring out at me.
In one of the porthole like windows that still had its shade shut I saw my reflection. My long blond hair flew behind me easily reaching below my shoulders almost to the center of my back. Somehow my blue sweat shirt stayed with me, but as I observed before was much tighter now. The same couldn’t be said for my poor jeans. The legs were completely missing, torn away as the wind finished what my buns of steel had begun. What remained did kind of, sort of did look like a skirt.
My face blushed as I saw my red holiday themed briefs. Forcing myself to look further down, both my shoes were gone too leaving only the matching red holiday socks which by some miracle had also stayed with me.
No wonder that kid called me Supergirl. All I lacked was the damn cape. Making myself concentrate, I knew I had to be in mild shock. The problem concentrating was proof of that, too much happening too soon. However, an entire plane load of people depended on me making the right decisions.
Carefully I maneuvered myself back into the plane I’d recently left the hard way. Inside it was if a giant hand had ripped the section out. The good news was whatever happened missed the control and avionics wiring. The cockpit door was still shut. The last thing I wanted to do was distract those guys right now as much as I needed to talk to them.
Cautiously, I floated into the main cabin. If the stares I’d gotten flying outside were un-nerving, these took it to an all new level. “Please remain calm. I’m trying to help.” I had to keep from wincing again at my softer higher tone voice.
Some were crying while others were near hysterical. I can’t say I was doing a whole lot better. Somehow being near them made me more emotional too. Forcing myself to be calm, I moved to the rear of the plane. Finally I saw what I was looking for, the stewardess section. Hoping none of them had been forward during whatever had occurred, I hovered near them.
One reminded me of Halle Berry while the other had sassy, short-cut blond hair. Both were giving me the same stares everyone else had, just freaking wonderful.
“I’m a recently transformed meta-human. I’m trying to help. Are you in communication with the Captain? I need to talk with him.”
Still in disbelief, the blond removed her headset, saying, “Captain, she wants to speak to you.”
Taking it, I got it over my wild mane of hair. “Captain, I’m a recent victim of that meta-gene thing that’s been in the news. I saved some of those who were in first class, but I don’t know if I got them all or not. I hope I did. They’re on the ground and in contact with 911.”
He replied, “Thank Gawd. This is Captain Henderson. Who, may I ask, are you?”
I sighed. It would be really nice to have more time to think about how I wanted to handle all this. Okay an interim solution. “Captain I really don’t want to expose myself and my family to a lot of publicity. Right now, call me Kara.”
“Okay Kara, we’re about a half hour out of Cleveland. They’ve got snow removal equipment working to clear us a hole, but conditions aren't good. What can you do for me?”
“Not much Captain. Just getting that section of seats down in one piece was a challenge. However, I did do a survey on my way in. You’ve got major structural damage in the front upper section and have additional damage to your starboard wing and engine. The control surfaces look good, but that’s just what I can see. If I can scrounge up a camera, I can go back out and film it for you, if we dare force open the cockpit door so I can give it to you.”
“As for what else I can do, I can fly and the cold doesn’t seem to bother me much. I’m pretty strong too, but not enough to carry the whole aircraft.” I apologized, “Sorry, still really new at this.”
“I think we’re going to have to risk it.” He replied. “I have to know how bad that structural damage is. It does us no good to get to Cleveland and then crack up on the runway. I also need to know if that starboard wing is icing up because of the damage. With that engine out we don’t have a lot of power to spare.” He said.
Handing the headset back to the cute blond, I asked, “Do either of you have a digital camera? The Captain wants me to get pictures of the damage.”
The blond smiled, “I’m Janice and this is Beatrice. You’re Kara, right? I have my camera in my bag.”
She looked doubtful at un-belting given the hole in the plane.
It was my turn to smile. “Don’t worry. If you fly out, I’ll catch you.”
Beatrice laughed, “If you were male, I might be tempted to test you on that one.
From the looks she gave me that didn’t matter as much as she said it did.
That did not make me feel better. On the other hand, neither one knew of my recent change of hmmm…. circumstances.
Janice carefully made her way forward. “I had my stuff in the closet of the forward galley. Usually mine would be in first class like the rest of the flight crew because it’s closer to the exit. However, I had an extra bag this trip,” she said having to shout because of the roar of wind and engine coming from the gaping hole further in front of us.
“It’s alright,” the stewardess assured the packed plane load of passengers as we made our way up. “We have somebody who can help us.”
Some looked at me with hope while others were very doubtful. I simply smiled trying to put on an air of confidence. Apollo 13’s infamous bland understatement, “Mission control, we have a problem” came to mind. Putting on a calm professional face would help keep everyone from panicking and causing problems we didn’t need.
Personally, my transformation and waltzing about mostly undressed while being stared at by what seemed like hundreds of people made me feel anything, but that. I forced my thoughts away from that. I could fall apart after we were all on the ground safely, but not now.
Reaching the galley, Janice found her bags. While she dug into them, I ducked into the first class area. The forward two rows were the ones that had been ripped out, but the last row of six still remained. By some act of Gawd they were still alive but frightened out of their wits by the huge hole just inches from sucking them out too.
I felt embarrassed that I’d somehow missed seeing them on my way back in. However I had to give myself some slack too. I was in just as much shock as they.
Going back to Janice I yelled over the howling noise. “There’re still six people in first class.”
She nodded and pushed a black bundle into my arms.
Expecting a camera, I held up the obviously women’s black coverall garment up confused. With the zippers and buttons, it reminded of something Scarlett Johansson had worn in that movie with Robert Downey.
Janice yelled, “Thought you would want something to wear. Yours are torn to ribbons! I was going skiing this weekend and we’re about the same size.”
Then grinning she added, “I’m going to want it back, girlfriend. That’s a Bogner. It cost me a pretty penny, but boy isn’t it sexy!”
Then she stood there obviously expecting me to change clothes right here. “We’re hidden here. Go ahead and put it on.”
Oh boy! Feeling more self-conscious than I ever had before in my life, I removed what was left of my jeans. My wallet had gone bye-bye, but I had to check my pockets anyways. Like I expected they were ripped and empty.
It didn’t help having Janice giggling at my holiday themed boxer briefs. Pulling up the ski suit, it quickly became apparent this was going to be tight, but it was better than being nearly nude.
Since it was bad enough having to deal with my ‘missing’ equipment as I pulled them to my waist, I was determined not to deal with my new additions. I wasn’t going to pull off my blue sweatshirt.
Despite that the top was snug and while the damn things might very well be like they were made of titanium, they were extremely sensitive.
Janice came to my rescue causing me to blush even redder. She boldly reached in and shifted my new ‘assets’ about until they fit a bit better. “Damn girl did you pick the wrong day not to wear a bra! Wanted to give your boyfriend a thrill too with you wearing his underwear huh!” She exclaimed, winking.
Me? Boyfriend? Twitch, twitch. Feeling like she broke something in my head, I dumbly nodded.
“Wow you really fill it out. I’m sooo, jealous! Remember you’re only borrowing!” Janice handed me the camera.
Taking it, I pushed though the fog clouding my poor overloaded brains. This I understood. Not just a camera, but Sony camcorder that had enough video memory to record hours of video.
While I examined the camera, she’d found another headset.
“Do you need me to get you back to your seat?” I asked.
“No, I’ll be fine here.” She waved at the people seated just the other side of the galley, “They need me here.”
I nodded and adjusted the screen so I could see what was being recorded. After doing a 360 of the inside of the tear, I carefully made my way out with my body shielding the screen. The rush of the air grabbed me, but I was prepared for it and was able to keep pace with the airliner.
I filmed the inside and the outside of the rip, and moved to the wing. Like the Captain feared ice was forming on the leading edge. As an experiment, I very lightly focused my eyes on the ice willing the infrared. Recalling being blinded by the heat exhaust I didn’t want to burn a hole in the already damaged wing. On the other hand, icing could bring us down just as surely as more damage could.
As the first chunks fell away I backed off a little and worked my way down to the engine. More of the ice fell away, but I was afraid to use my active infra vision close to what I knew might be leaking fuel.
Getting pictures of the engine, I headed back inside again. If not for the emergency I might’ve enjoyed this. The flying was a rush and aviation had been a stepping stone in my love of space.
Unfortunately, I kept being reminded that not only were hundreds of lives were at stake, but at what it’d cost me. The figure hugging black didn’t let me keep any illusions that the new me matched my old self-image. Once again I had to push all that away. Now was not the time!
Knocking on the cockpit door, I yelled, “It’s Kara. I have the camera.”
The door opened and I slipped inside handing the camera over. “I didn’t see any signs of more damage, but that wing is icing up like you thought. I experimented a little to see if I could de-ice it and it worked. What I don’t know is how long I can keep it up.”
The gray haired man in the dark blue airline uniform nodded as he fast forwarded the camera’s footage to the important parts. “If you can keep that wing clear that’ll certainly help. I don’t suppose you can do anything about shoring up the supports?” He asked pointing at the images of the hole.
“This has never happened to this model before. It shouldn’t have happen, but if the structural supports give during the stress of landing the entire front third of the plane will break off.” The Captain said with a calmness that wasn’t in his eyes.
Looking about, I saw the flight engineer glaring at me as if I’d caused this. I was starting to get the feeling no matter what happened I would be blamed for causing this by someone. It was a chicken and egg kind of question. Did my changing into a Meta damage the plane? In reality I was reasonably certain that it was the stress of being ripped out of the plane at 30,000 feet that’d done the trick, and I was innocent of any wrong doing.
Sighing, I tried, “I don’t know what caused this either. It’s a good thing I’m a quick learner, because as of a half-hour ago, I didn’t know I could fly. Falling at night in the middle of a blizzard isn’t the best conditions for your first parachute jump. I did get everyone who was still seated in that section down in more or less one piece. Let’s be real, I have no idea what I can really do. However, I’m here and want to help.”
The Captain shot his engineer a glare. “Shut up Tom. This is not the time. After we get this bird back on the ground then you can start pointing. Until then anything, but that doesn’t matter. You copy me, mister?”
The younger man nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off of me.
“Miss, you say you can keep that wing de-iced, correct?” He asked.
I nodded, “That I can do, at least for a while. I am strong, but I’m afraid I could do more harm than good.”
He rolled his eyes. “For Gawd’s sake don’t get creative. We need that wing just where it is. Keep it ice free, and we’ll do the rest, understand?”
I replied, “Yes sir.”
About to go back outside, the Captain leaned next to me. “If you see things going south, and this bird starts to go down, you save who you can, got me?”
The torture of the responsibility in his eyes brought tears to my own. Not trusting my voice I could only nod. In a flash, I was out the cockpit helping pull the door shut.
Once again I flew out of the hole wondering if I would ever get a chance to exit this damn plane though the door. Bouncing in the turbulent airflow, I soared to the starboard wing. A thick rim of ice covered the leading edge.
Carefully, I focused my eyes like I had before. As the partially melted ice crystals were whipped away I played my vision all along the length of the wing. The last thing I wanted was to melt holes in this thing. Thankfully, my strategy seemed to be working. Staying in front of the wing, flying backwards, let me get most of the leading edge, where the ice was building, in my field of vision.
Just like when you’re driving and following a car in front of you, I lost track of exactly where I was except in relation to that wing I was concentrating on. I guessed we were descending because the visibility got even worse as the snow and sleet screamed by.
With my active infra-vision, I had no problem seeing the airliner clearly or even the crew in the cockpit. I very much doubted they could see me. Glancing to the front, I couldn’t make out a damn thing.
I could only guess we were getting close to touch down. The ice was building up even faster now, forcing me to gingerly up the ‘power’ I was using. I honestly hadn’t clue about what I was doing, but could only play it by ear.
It didn’t take me long to figure out the problem with having ‘eye-beams.’ Sure I could ‘target exactly what I was looking at, but what if I had to look at other things?
After what seemed like forever in the icy hurricane, finally one of my quick peeks let me see runway lights, yay! That was very short lived. Have you every ever been bowling and the ball starts to drift into the gutter? Okay I’ve never been bowling in my life, but I’ve seen the scene many times on TV where the bowler desperately leans over trying to will the rolling orb to correct its path.
I did the same thing as slowly the wing started dripping. No, no, no! I cut the cockpit a desperate glance, but the blurry images I got of the crew’s heat patterns showed they were trying their best to correct the aircraft’s list to starboard.
My thoughts racing, I knew I didn’t dare try to grab the wing. It would simply just tear in my hands. The engine mount! That area was designed for this kind of stress. Swooping over the wing, I ducked underneath forcing myself as close as I could to where the engine hanged.
Then using my whole body to distribute the weight, I pushed. Come on, move! The wing stopped its dip, but the bank caused us to lose altitude we couldn’t afford to lose. All too slowly we were wing level again.
The ground was coming up far too soon. I ignored the creaking and squeak of bending metal as I gave it my all. It was all too much. Too many forces were working against me. The plane’s momentum, mass, and gravity were an equation that spelled the death of those in this fragile metal shell. All I had to do was change the calculation.
Before, I’d somehow extended my anti-gravity field over that section of seats keeping it and those passengers from spattering into the ground. But a piece of wreckage the size of a SUV is a damn sight smaller than a Boeing airliner.
I might simply tear the plane apart or any number of other unwanted outcomes. It wasn’t fair, but I knew life rarely was. Newly transformed and yet I was these people’s only hope. Muttering a prayer, I tried to spread my field.
It’s like having a muscle you never used before, trying to make it move. Taking a deep breath disregarding the onrushing snow covered surface, I exhaled attempting to widen my awareness.
I couldn’t explain how it felt, but we didn’t hit where we would’ve. Like magic we floated so damn close over the top of the outer markers I could see the filaments burning in the lights.
The flashes of yellow chevons startled me as we barely made the runway’s overrun area. Like a juggler with too many balls in the air, whatever I’d managed to do went away.
Tumbling out of control onto the concrete, I saw my ride bounce once, twice and even a third time, but finally the wheels stayed on the ground. There was a long moment as the front gear slowly descended to join the others, because I feared the weaken front section might collapse, but to my relief it held.
“Thank you Gawd,” I whispered lowering my head exhausted. In the distance emergency vehicles raced for the stricken plane in a wave of flashing red and blue lights.
My long hair whipped about me in the winter storm. What in the world was I going to do? My ID was lost somewhere between Boston and Cleveland. No one would recognize me now. Hell, I couldn’t even claim my luggage.
My meta-human vision let me see the frightened, but relieved passengers as they slid down the inflatable emergency slides.
“Merry Christmas,” I said standing awkwardly in the snow. My new body wanted to go in every direction except the one I wanted. The snow fell even heavier and turned different colors by the runway lights, yellow, blue and green.
Hey wait a minute, green?
Looking up, green tinted everything as Jade gracefully set down beside me.
“I’m Jade. Nice job getting that plane down.” She introduced herself obviously not recognizing me.
Somehow, I nodded, too overwhelmed to even think.
Softer, she asked, “Are you all right?” Jade touched my arm concerned.
Out of nowhere I started crying. It wasn’t that I was all macho and didn’t cry. It was more I couldn’t stop. We stood there in the snow, as she held me.
Between sobs I told her about those passengers, I’d set down in that field. I was afraid some dumb-ass 911 operator wouldn’t believe their story. Looking at the airport, I was hit by more crying thinking about my parents waiting to hear about me. Oh yeah sorry, but your son was sucked out of the plane at 30,000 feet, oops!
Calming down a little, I asked, “You don’t recognize me do you?”
She was obviously a bit uncomfortable with my breakdown, but I saw her eyes get that distant look when her ring was talking to her.
“Larry,” she asked. “Larry Danvers?”
“Found the flight manifest, right,” I said trying to regain my sense of self.
Jade gave me a sideways smile, “Figure that out have you?”
I shrugged, “The Professor and I worked it out. For you to control the ring the way you do, there has to be the equivalent of a neural-interface. We already knew you have access to extremely advanced computers from the way you found out about his class. Must be very handy for a Galactic cop to have all that information at their fingertips.”
Done with my explanation, I sighed, “There is something you can help with though.”
I looked at the airport terminal. “Any time now my name is going to come up missing. It there someway you could let my parents know I’m alright? Perhaps a text message?”
Jade replied, “Under the circumstances I think we can do that. Can you tell me what happened?”
Taking a deep breath, I told her. Finally having a little post crisis melt down time, I added another request. “Would you mind another favor? I was a last minute add-on to the passenger manifest. Could you change that too? I don’t want attention right now.”
All the while we’d been walking towards the crippled plane. Emergency crews were working to get the runway clear. Looking at the hole, it was if some giant monster took a huge bite out of the upper fuselage. Boeing did build them tough because by all rights the entire forward section should’ve sheered off upon the stress of landing. Thank Gawd it didn’t.
Startled, I watched her face turn hard. “Yes, I can do that, Larry. In fact I think it’s a very good idea. This wasn’t an accident.”
Staring at her, I stuttered, “It wasn’t? But how?”
“It was meant to look like a combination of metal fatigue and the composites shattering. My ring however has identified traces of nano-scaled robots from their tracks in and about every primary stress point which failed. This was deliberate and planned. More importantly it was done using advanced alien technology unavailable on this planet.” She said as if it was a personal affront. Seeing how this was her ’beat’ it very well might be.
“Aliens sabotaged an airliner?” I asked in disbelief.
“Either that or a Meta-human. There are talents and abilities that would let one manufacture such devices.” She explained.
I guess I was still in shock after all. “But why?”
She stared at me questioningly.
Swallowing, I blinked. “Me? I’m just a student! My only claim to fame is working with the Professor organizing term papers.”
Then it hit me, he could be in danger, too!
My thoughts must‘ve been plain. “Don’t worry. I just pinged the campus police to go and check on him. I’m thinking this could be my fault. I’ve already made enemies. This could be a way of reaching me. I didn’t make a secret of my visits.
“It could also be something else. MIT does have a reputation of being on technology’s cutting edge. However, first I need to get you to my ship and get you checked out. How about I text your parents and tell them that you’re fine, but you’re not with the plane. Because of that you’re going to be checked out and will let them know when you’re on the way home. I’ll add on that you’re borrowing a phone to buy us some time.” She suggested.
I nodded wiggling my red socked toes on the icy tarmac. It was very uncomfortable. I felt the cold, but it didn’t hurt if you know what I mean. It was still unpleasant. “I don’t like misleading them, but I do need to know what the meta-gene did to me.”
Jade smiled, “We know you can fly, so I’ll lead. Considering who you look like, we’ll see how far you can go on your own. If you run into trouble, I’ll catch you.”
With that she lifted off like a green rocket! Whoa!
Really hoping not to embarrass myself, I jumped upwards to follow. In a rush, I found myself in the clouds and climbing fast! Can I explain how it felt? It was good! Twisting myself about in a series of climbing barrel rolls, I loved it.
I could see Jade in front of me still leading. Just to see if I could overtake her I willed myself to cut loose. Suddenly, I was past her and still accelerating, yee-hah!
Like a swimmer I turned onto my back to see behind me. There was that magic moment where my ‘down’ became irrelevant. I could see Mother Earth below me. Some part of me knew that, WTF, I was in orbit, but it was so beautiful for just a timeless instant I was lost in it.
I could see the lights of cities that weren't covered by the winter storm. Then the sun appeared over the terminator. I don’t know if I was breathing or not this high up, but it took my breath away just the same.
A hand touched my shoulder. Jade motioned me to come on.
Of course we couldn’t talk, but a thumb-up worked just fine. Giving that amazing sight one last look, I followed her as she arrowed towards the Moon.
This is where she out paced me. I guess I wasn’t doing too badly since she didn’t start pulling me along. Luna grew astonishingly quickly. Without having some way of telling exactly how long it took, I couldn’t estimate just how fast we were traveling. However even subjectively it wasn’t any more than a quarter hour or so. Scientifically speaking, we were blistering, hot fast!
Reaching her ship, I found myself gawking like a kid again. Entering my first spaceship, seemed a little anticlimactic seeing how I’d just flew to the Moon under my own power no less!
Inside, I took a deep breath, wondering just how long I could last ‘outside’.
“You want a Coke?” Jade asked. “The previous GL laid in a serious supply of the old stuff.”
Half expecting something like out of one of those bad Sci-Fi movies, I was wrong. She had me lie down on a bed like thing for a few minutes and that was it.
To condense a whole lot of information, I’m healthy and in great condition. That is for a Homo-sapiens-Jovian. I weigh 360 lbs and can bench 400 without a real problem. That kind of scared me. Jade’s AI informed me that my strange biology was kind of a combination of Nano-scale robots and organic cells. Call them cyber-bio-nanites.
That alone was very bizarre because according to its database, while the Meta-genes may do almost anything to you, turning one into a robot was beyond it. Quasi-robot maybe and you could even look like one, but still you would really be organic. However, it’d happened somehow it worked.
I was very tough, and healed up from injuries quickly. However, where it still mattered I was human. As for my flight, and strength, I can create gravity fields just like I thought. The short form was I was very much like the Jovians I designed, but there were differences too, that not even the Ring’s AI could puzzle out. Just what some of those organs inside me did or what it meant to me long term was anyone’s guess.
None of that reassured me. Modeling something this radical a modification as an intellectual exercise was one thing. Test piloting personally with my life at stake was another.
I’d never been one to cry, but I did so now again. Damn tears! Did that Meta-gene turn me into an unstoppable waterfall?
That’s when a miracle occurred. Her AI magic ring admitted it’d been wrong!
“Our initial survey of the data from your papers as well as those from Professor Swan’s Exobiology class did not indicate any items of immediate danger for emerging Meta-humans. However, upon your examination we conclude we were mistaken.
“Your entire biology could be described as an incredibly efficient series of interconnecting symbiotic relationships. It’s the biological equivalent of the architectural arch where the forces acting upon it strengthens the structure. It is the method you devised that is important not the details.
Your earlier papers as well as the group projects you were part of began the development of the idea. In your term paper you clearly defined them.”
“Using existing technology with that methodology could aid in the development of systems and equipment that could prove dangerous to emerging meta-humans.” The ring explained.
“Oops,” I whispered. Looking at the image the AI had provided, it was all too clear I was female. Even in a ski suit, my curves couldn’t be concealed. I remembered while researching the whole Kryptonian thing that one early version of Supergirl was patterned on Marilyn Monroe.
“You never did answer me if you were alright,” Jade reminded me with gentle smile.
Trying not to notice how my chest rose when I breathed, I replied, “It’s starting to hit me that not only am I a girl, but there’s no way to hide it either.”
“You know you’re not the first gender switch?” She smiled, “And I might be able to help with that disguise thing.”
“That stuff about Terra once being a teenage boy was right? I thought it was only the usual Inquirer trash.” I said shaking my head.
“No,” The woman in green shook her head. “They got that part right. It might do you good for the two of you to meet. By the way, I offered her the disguise too, but she stopped using it. Said it was better for her to get accustomed to being who she was going to spend the rest of her life as then to keep pretending to be someone she wasn't anymore.”
Jade shrugged, “I could see her point.”
Internally, I winced just thinking about what duplicating that maneuver would do to my new body. It wasn’t that I was freaking out. It was more wondering what in the world was I going to do now sort of thing. Starting to work it out, I pointed out trying to get off the current subject. “So I could’ve been the target of this all along or it still could be an attempt to attack you.”
Her eye brows rose signaling she knew exactly what I was doing. “That sums it up.”
“Okay, let’s try this for a plan. Let’s try your disguise. It’ll give me the chance to break this to my parents at a better time and hopefully throw off whoever tried this. If they try again, well I’m pretty hard to hurt now. Maybe, I can adopt another not only one of those secret identities like out the comic books, but a female one too. I kept mostly to myself at school anyways. It should be manageable for me to do both.
“I know you’re trying to put together a team to take care of the big threats, but I want and need to finish my education. This way I can go kind of undercover and find out just who has this technology. Not that I won’t help those I see in trouble, I’m just not going looking for it.
“Plus if you really need me, I’ll be there. How does that sound?” I asked her.
Jade held out her hand. In it was this ring ….
Ed Benes's Supergirls 6.5 is at this link!
http://www.comicartfans.com/gallerypiece.asp?piece=153281&gs...
Alex Thurol- Today I would have answers. Certain questions had bedeviled me during my entire holiday break. When you try and kill someone, and it fails, you naturally want to know why.
This is a fan fiction story in Lilith Langtree's Retcon Universe. I don't own or have the rights to any of these characters. This story was written simply for fun. With that said, this is still my story. No reposting it, without my say so! Thanks to the amazingly fast Djkauf for proofing and a second pair of eyes!
Alex Thurol-
Today I would have answers. Certain questions had bedeviled me during my entire holiday break. When you try and kill someone, and it fails, you naturally want to know why.
Don’t get me wrong. I hold nothing against Larry Danvers. For a little white guy, he was okay even if he was anal retentive. The problem was he was in my way. MIT was still rated the top technical school in the world. There was room for only one top student at that institution, me.
Truthfully, he wasn’t more intelligent than I. It was more an apples and oranges type of comparison. We both had our own strengths. My own intelligence surpassed his. I know because I hacked the administration files and have seen both of our records and test scores.
It also wasn’t that he was more intuitive although that was a factor. No, it was because he thought outside of the box, and had an attention to detail that would make any engineer proud.
Who in the world would ever think of colonizing Jupiter? It’s a gas giant! However that is exactly what Larry did. Not only was it imaginative, but potentially extremely lucrative as well. Each new advancement in human development was heralded by new materials and elements that needed only time before scientists and engineers could devise way of utilizing them. Jupiter could be the new mines of Solomon.
I had to keep from drooling at the very idea of large amounts of Metallic Hydrogen being easily available. Room temperature superconductors by the ton? How about the possibility of a highly energy packed fuel with only water as the byproduct? Metallic Hydrogen is 9 times more compact than normal H.
Sure some might say that all of this was pure speculation, but developing the means to reach it was well within my lifetime. One needed only to be bold.
My own finals project was Enceladus, the sixth largest moon of Saturn. I, of course, did well and got my expected A. However, I readily admit that it wasn’t nearly as visionary as Larry’s Jovians.
That did make it necessary to humble my rival, but that was easy. All I had to do was point out the comic-book like similarities between his colonists and the fictional Kryptonians from DC comics. The rest of the class picked up on it at once. Poor pop culture ignorant Larry didn’t even have a clue.
I swear, I wonder if that boy didn’t have Asperger's sometimes. He’s so socially inept it hurts. It was almost pathetic the way he keeps coming on to Alana, and she’s a lesbian. A lipstick one to be sure, but the signs are there if you bothered to look.
I don’t think he would take it well to know she saw him as more of a little brother than a romantic interest. Of course if my speculation was correct Alana could very well have the hots for Larry or perhaps I should say Linda now?
Or maybe not.
I kept my face carefully cheerful watching Larry lug his baggage across the airport lobby. That did not keep me from wondering if he didn’t change into that walking DC Comics copyright violation, then who did? Not to mention how he survived his little trip outside the plane at 30,000 feet. A journey I knew for a fact happened given the last telemetry I received from his laptop was right before it shattered impacting into a frozen Ohio farm field.
Perhaps Ms. Copyright Violation had saved him, but why didn’t Larry come forward then? Everyone else who’d walked away from their involuntary free fall experience couldn’t wait to let everyone know and collect a few bucks to get interviewed on national media.
Whoever she was, that had been who’d ultimately foiled my attempt at knocking off my competition. Besides that there another annoying mystery that a quick look at my sensors disguised as a watch informed me. He was clean.
Considering I’d infected him with so many nanites that he should’ve clanged when he walked, that was impossible. I’d actually been concerned the airport sensors would’ve gone off. Of course they wouldn’t have understood what they'd found and would have likely just chalked it up to a malfunction. A much more sophisticated device than anything Homeland Security had available to it would’ve been needed to identify my little helpers. Only a few labs in world had that capability.
That didn’t include a particular visitor dressed in green. All indicators suggested Jade would’ve found them immediately, which was the whole reason for this complicated charade in the first place. Not wanting to come to her attention after she started spending time with Larry and the Professor, I had to hide my involvement. Just having my little friends turn him into goo just may not have been good enough to escape the notice the resources Jade had at her command. Having the evidence crushed and mangled after falling from 30 thousand feet in the middle of a blizzard would’ve confused and hidden everything very nicely.
“Hey Larry! What’s up? Have a good Christmas?” I asked, him running over the possibilities in my mind.
“Oh hi, Alex.” He replied, startled to see me. “You’re back early, too?”
“Sure,” I lied with a smile. “My parents drive me crazy. My father still thinks I should be on a football scholarship instead of an academic.”
While my old man might’ve been thrilled to have me playing ball, he knew better than to cross Mother. He knew where his bread was buttered. Alright, he hadn’t done badly for himself, investing his exorbitant salary from his pro-ball years, but that was a pittance beside Mother’s payoff from my maternal grandparents. Understand that even the huge commercial farm corporation she ran as CEO was just pocket change to the Family. That meant my Uncle, since my grandparents kicked the bucket. You would think he would be more progressive then they, but he’d made it quite clear that as far as he was concerned she was still an embarrassment.
Well, until last year when he needed something from her. Something that had changed everything.
“What about you?” I asked. “What brings you back so early? I thought after having your break cut short helping Professor Swan you would’ve cut it a lot closer. Having problems with your parents too?”
“They aren’t like that. It would’ve been nice to spend more time at home, but I got talked into something else. My cousin Carol is moving to the area, and both of our families thought it best we stay together to watch over each other in the big bad city.” Larry rolled his eyes.
I fought to keep from losing it. The skinny geek being able to protect just himself was laughable. Him being able to help anyone else was beyond ridiculous. Certainly, I was familiar with his martial arts training since I had hacked his records after all, but he was simply so damn easygoing I could no more think of him as being a threat then I could a gnat.
“So you two are off apartment finding?” I asked, forcing my face to remain friendly. “Where is she? I would like to meet this cousin of yours.”
“Yes and no,” Larry answered. “Yeah, I’m looking for a place for us, but she is going to be flying in later.”
There was this strange sparkle in his eyes when he said that as if it was part of some kind of joke. However, it was so apt. This cousin of his was already walking all over him. I think I like her, and I haven’t even met her yet.
However, I couldn’t pump him for too much information. Even Larry would become suspicious of the circumstances. It was time for me to depart. Sadly, I had to resist the urge to re-infect him. It was a real possibility this cousin of his just might be Miss Copyright Violation. If so she might have access to Jade’s resources and could detect my little friends. That wouldn’t do at all.
“Good luck with that this time of the year,” I said. “However I’ve got to go. We can catch up on times after school starts.”
He picked his bags up after giving me a farewell wave.
Watching his reflection in the glass windows, dragging his bags towards the exit, I did indeed have a lot to do. It was time to find out just who this cousin of his was.
Larry Danvers:
I watched Alex until my enhanced senses lost him in the busy traffic of Logan International Airport. Dragging my bags outside, I grabbed a cab to my new apartment.
No matter how I looked at it, he was my number one suspect. Part of my stomach twisted up at the very idea. I knew he had that mean streak, but would he really try to murder not only me, but an entire plane load of people too?
However, his just happening to show here at Logan when I arrived was a little too much of a coincidence. It made me glad that I had wasted Dad’s money to fly the old fashioned way despite how much I loved going sub-orbital. Beside all the baggage I had with me this trip was the kind of stuff that didn’t travel all that well being hand carried at mach 5.
I’d thought long and hard about the consequences of telling Dad and Mom the truth. Certainly I got an unexpected preview of the possible consequences during the Family Christmas get-together.
These things were just so much fun, not! Wearing thick soled sneakers with a bit of heel, I made up my inch of lost height. Trust me, when you feel short anyways, losing any at all seems like a lot.
Of course with all the aunts, uncles, cousins, and family friends these events are bad enough. However, good did come from it. My preview took the form of my Cousin Chloe. No, she’s not meta, but once upon a time she was Cousin Nick. Being either brave or excessively masochistic, she came out to the family-at-large right in the middle of the gathering.
Most of us Cousins took it well, but fewer of the older adults did. I decided to step up when Cousin Tom, who wasn’t known for his lightning quick wit, showed how he got that reputation.
Calmly, I told him his opinion was noted, but of no consequence and would he please take himself elsewhere. The goon received a shock when others rallied behind me. Maybe his father had put him up to this, but enough of us far more numerous younger generation demonstrated our support for her.
Besides I’d always liked Nick. He was one of the more intelligent of my extended family. His inquisitive nature led him into journalism while mine took me into science. Oops, I have to watch that! ‘It’s she you dummy’ I silently reprimanded myself. That’s really ironic since I’m one now, too. This isn’t going to be easy is it?
Well, that’s why I wanted to pick her brains. My internet search of spontaneous sex changes had pulled up a lot of sites called by names like Fictionmania, Big Closet, and a slew of web comics. Hey that’s where I found out about the Squish, Squish Game. Okay maybe I shouldn’t go there, TMI.
Well anyways a lot of that stuff was eye opening, but not very useful if you know what I’m talking about. I needed practical information. Chloe actually looked pretty good. I could see where she had a long way to go yet, but there was a kind of peace about her now, that Nick never had. That’s with all the stupid homophobes that we were unfortunately related to, giving her and anyone near the evil eye.
For just a moment I thought she was going bolt from the party, but after me and the others gathered around, she relaxed. At first it was all small talk, but then she rather shocked me.
“You know I’ve wondered if you might be Tee too,” Chloe said, low just for my ears.
“Huh?” I asked, confused.
She smiled in a way Nick never did. “You know, LBGT; Lesbian, Bisexual, Gay, and Tee for transgender.”
“Why would you say that?” I gaped at her, nearly dropping the punch I’d gotten for us.
“Well there is the obvious, both of us being outsiders and the whole socially inept thing. And there’s the secret we shared at the last of these family things that we were both still virgins. But mostly, I think it was the lack of testosterone fueled aggression other males seem to have in such abundance.
“Remember, you told me about all that martial arts stuff your family is into. I know you could’ve kicked Tom’s butt all over the room, but instead you calmly made him back down and walk away.” She finished, making her point.
Then Chloe leaned in close. “I’ve also seen how you’re walking. There’s this little wiggle. You do a great job of hiding it, but I know what to look for.”
Her sharp eyes gleamed. Chloe knew she had me. I thought about putting her off and denying the whole thing. However, I really did need her help.
“Okay, I do have a secret, but it’s something I need to show you rather than tell. You think we can find somewhere private in this madhouse?” I asked, indicating all our relatives half smashed on eggnog and punch.
“Sure, I’m a reporter. I know all the places where I’m not supposed to be,” she said, smiling, but I could see her excitement as well. I just had to tantalize her with a secret.
Weaving our way though the party, she took me to the roof. As cold as it was, no one was out and about.
“So what’s this secret of yours, Larry?” She asked, hugging her jacket tight to her.
“First you have to promise not to tell a soul. It’s very important no one else knows this, but I do need your advice.” I replied, emphasizing the seriousness of this.
Thus Chloe Sullivan became the first person other than Jade to know my secret. Well, part of it anyways. Oh, the look on her face as I stepped off the roof, hovering in mid-air.
“Oh my Gawd! You’re a Meta!” She exclaimed. “So why tell me at all?” she asked, not slow on the uptake.
“Because,” I sighed, “If you must know, I was the Meta that saved that plane in Cincinnati.” I dropped Jade’s disguise.
Poor Chloe’s mouth dropped open. Gathering her wits she asked, “This is the real you, now?”
“Yes, it is,” I nodded. “But no one can know that. One, what happened to that plane wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate, and might very well have been targeted at me. Why, Jade and I don’t know, but until we do, this has to stay between us.” I said, landing back beside her.
“Do you see now why I need your help? I’ll have to stay undercover at least for now until I can find out who attacked that plane. They killed two stewardesses and a passenger, as well as endangering everyone else.” I told her sighing at the senselessness of it all.
“I can’t tell you the odds I beat manifesting in the middle of it, and that’s not counting me also saving those six people who got sucked out of the plane with me.” My heart turned hard. “I want whoever did this and so does Jade. They have access to some serious technology, and who knows what they will try next.” I said, clenching my fists in frustration.
“At the same time, I’m like this now, and I can tell you that I don’t think there’s a way back. Somehow, I have to deal with this, but still stay Larry at least part of the time to find this terrorist.
“I have this junior version of Jade’s ring that gives me a disguise, and I was planning to have a female identity to help me get used to this. However, I don’t even know where to start! Hell, I don’t even know how to tell my parents about this!” I finished, with despair heavy within my chest.
“First of all girlfriend, you’re gorgeous,” She said, jealously “I wish I looked as good as you. Second, I know too damn well how being in the wrong skin can eat you up. There’s always conventional surgery. Maybe that Green Lantern you keep mentioning has some kind of high tech medical machines that can put everything right, because for females to males, I admit the Earthly medical options aren’t that great.
“However, you do need to talk your folks. Of all the oldsters, they accepted me the best. I can’t tell how it will go. I’ve heard stories of very tolerant parents up to the point it’s their little boy who wants to wear the dresses.” Chloe said, shrugging.
“It’s very weird trying to get used to theses changes,” I said, sighing. “Chloe, I’d lost an inch of height, but have nearly tripled my weight which is all muscle. I checked the internet. My new measurements are the same as Marilyn Monroe’s, which is really creepy, since Supergirl was modeled on her at one point.
“Jade’s Junior-Scout Green Lantern Ring has helped immeasurably with just the clothes issue alone. The very thought of going out and buying stuff like a bra gives me brain freeze. I’m not quite freaking out, but I don’t think I’m handling this very well. I am having problems even conceiving my circumstances have really, really changed,” I said, presenting my new body to her like Vanna White.
“To address your points, I’d spent more time than I want to admit in front of the mirror. I’m a 35-22-35 D-cup blond bombshell. The problem is that she’s me, Chloe.
“As for transitioning back to male using any method at all, is completely impossible. I don’t know how much you know about comic books, but imagine how tough it would be for a Kryptonian to attempt that. It’s even harder for me.
“This body seems to be based on a design I did for a cyborg meant to thrive on Jupiter. Imagine a human shaped spaceship, a Jovian, which has all of the organs necessary for a human in individual environmental life support units. Even with Jade’s medical technology there’s no way back. Like it or not, this is me, now.” I explained.
Her eyes grew wide as they took in the implications. “So you really are like Supergirl just as that little girl claimed?”
“Pretty much.” I replied, sighing. “Maybe not as strong, fast, or as near invulnerable, but I’m close. I’m expecting to get sued by DC comics any day now.” I said, feeling more than a little sorry for myself.
“Let me get this right,” she said, standing hipshot and staring hard at me. “Someone tries to kill you, but as you’re plummeting from 30,000 feet, in a one in an Oh My Gawd number of zeros chance, you change into a near invulnerable gorgeous woman who is right out of the comic books. You can fly all the way to the moon all on your lonesome. And please make sure I understand this,” she finished, glaring at me “You’re complaining!?!”
“What about not being dead?” Chloe reminded me. “And don’t you dare tell me, Ms. Science geek who had her pilot’s license at 14, that you don’t like being able to fly!”
“It was only a pilot’s certificate for gliders.” I blushed sheepishly correcting her, “I couldn’t get my license till last year when I turned 18, but haven’t had the time yet. Still,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “I get your point.”
“It’s just this all so overwhelming. I never even dreamed I could be having some of the problems I’m having now.” I tried to explain.
“You don’t have to tell, me.” She said hugging me. “Trust me, I know how hard it is dealing with gender screw-ups. Just figuring out there is a problem is a real, and I do mean a real gold plated bitch. Admitting you actually like what you’re feeling isn’t easy either. In the end, I decided I would rather be happy, then try living in a way which most definitely wasn’t working.”
“I don’t know.” I objected. “How much of that applies to me. Sure I’m feeling all messed up now, but it was pretty obvious how I got this way. I must also say that I do like some of this, although it’s mostly having these powers. Having a choice, I guess it’s better looking beautiful than being ugly, even if I would be much rather be dating a girl who looked like this than, staring at her in the mirror.”
“Hah, so you do admit that it’s not all bad, and don’t think I missed that ‘mostly’ qualifier either,” Chloe replied triumphantly. “You have found something you like about joining the other team even though I bet you’ve spent the entire time hiding behind that secret decoder ring of yours ‘disguise,’” She accused me, making ditto marks in the air.
I sighed wondering how to put this. “I haven’t been hiding. Since the aerial incident Mom has stuck to me like glue.” Hey pilot types never ever say crash. It’s bad karma! “I think she realized just how close I came to not walking away.”
Chloe remarked, “Not as close as it really was, I bet, but don’t change the subject.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “On the rare occasions that I’ve had time alone to try and work this out, I can honestly say how I look isn’t exactly freaking me out. My trouble seems to be more me wondering what the hell do I do now, if you know what I mean.”
This was all so confusing maybe because I wasn’t freaking out. Terra and I had a few ring to ring conversations that helped. Just the warning about ring created shoes not having any real traction literally saved my neck although because of my density I always kept a little anti-grav on. We talked about just how strange it all was, and she gave me a head’s up on some other surprises I could expect.
I’d found a few of those walking around in my ‘Larry’ disguise. Sneaking into the airport and meeting back up with my parents after getting back from Jade’s star cruiser, I quickly discovered I, hmmm…, stuck out further in the front and back than I used to. While I couldn’t do much about the back, I had to do something about the front.
The Junior-Scout GL ring also helped with that, but damn was it uncomfortable. With as dense as I was, it’s like wearing bondage gear, but again I’d no choice. Mom insisted on frequent hugs to reassure herself I was still alive.
Even still, I saw her fleeting confusion. Her son Larry shouldn’t have 'bumps’ there. Thankfully, she was too happy at my survival to really process the information. That is so far.
Chloe gave me a sideways smile that really worried me. “So, what you’re really saying is you’re trying to cope with this but you don’t have a native guide to help you in the strange new land in which you’ve suddenly found yourself marooned.”
“First of all, girlfriend,” She said, “Let me say this again, you’ve got to tell at least your Mom. You need a woman’s help who’s grown up that way. She’s the one person you can trust not to give away your secret, and teach you what you need to know.”
She waggled a finger in front of me. “And trust me, sister, do you have a lot to learn if you’re going back to school in just a few weeks. I know you don’t have the slightest idea of how much you have to learn” Chloe broke out into a grin, “As for the rest, I can do what she can’t.”
“Like what?” I asked. It was tough keeping myself from grimacing knowing I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Why take you on your first shopping trip of course!” She exclaimed. “Your Mom knows all the in and outs of how a girl is supposed to behave, but not so much about how college girls dress in the new millennium. I love your Mom, but she is sooo last century!”
What followed is one of the weirdest and strangest events of my life and that’s including my unexpected metamorphosis at Angels Thirty. We met back up the next morning, and I got a crash course in shopping, girl style.
I hated, but enjoyed it at the same time. For one this was the first time I spent much time without my ‘Larry’ disguise in public, and it felt so good to ‘unbind’ my chest.
Chloe took us straight into Victoria Secrets. What an oxymoron! With clothes like these nothing was a secret! Trust me, they weren’t hiding anything. After learning more about styles of bras and panties than I ever wanted to know, I think we hit every store in the Mall.
It felt a bit like being a voyeur, dressing up this absolute knockout of a woman, but since she was also me, I hated all the putting and taking off of the truckloads of stuff Chloe kept passing to me to try on. Plus, I don’t even want to think about all the stares I got from all the guys. Having been one only a few days before, I knew exactly why they were looking. Twice I headed to the restrooms fighting nausea from the very thought. At least being sick reassured me that men did absolutely nothing for me. Thank Gawd for small favors. Never mind that Terra said that could change over time.
The bad was I missed out on lunch while busy retching. I think it was that, the combination of hunger and brain overload that let me goof so badly. Of course, I figured out too late that my cousin set me up, but I must say it wasn’t an auspicious beginning for keeping my secrets, much less doing the Clark Kent thing.
The second I walked in carrying those shopping bags, I knew I was busted. There was Mom.
I could tell it would be a complete waste of time trying to explain why her son Larry was toting a double armload of shopping bags full of women’s things.
“Is there something you would like to tell me?” She asked, with one quirked eyebrow.
Chloe cut me a look. I knew what she wanted me to do. Besides, I’d never lied to my parents about any of this. I simply hadn’t volunteered the truth.
Sighing, I asked, “When is Dad due home? It would be easier to tell you both at once.”
Reluctantly Mom nodded her assent. She saw the logic of my request even though she really wanted to know right this very minute.
That’s when Chloe rescued me from the so very awkward moment.
“Aunt Lora, we’re going upstairs to put all this away.” She said, grabbing my arm.
Safely out of sight I turned to her, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Chloe said, but then surprised me with another hug. Apparently women were a lot more …tactile than guys. Not that it wasn’t nice, but it would take some getting used to. “I know how hard it is coming out of the closet. I’m not going anywhere.”
Setting the all the bags on my bed, she began pulling stuff out.
Staring at the remains of all of my Christmas money as well as a big chunk of my savings, I had to ask. “Okay why do I need all of this stuff when this can just make it for me?” I flashed my junior GL ring.
Chloe hopped up next to our shopping facing me.
“There’re a couple of reasons,” she replied counting them off on her fingers. “One, shopping is a social and bonding activity for women and one you need to become familiar with.
“Two,” she continued. “Even women who aren’t girly girls know all about bras, panties, and other things like that, if for no other reason, because they know the things they do and don’t like. You’re totally clueless about it all. I like really feminine things, but I’m still learning too.
“Three,” Chloe held up another finger. “You have a big challenge in front of you, and I’m hoping to find things that you’ll like about all of this that’ll make it a little easier.
She patted the bed urging me to sit next to her.
Sighing, I complied not sure I wanted to hear this.
“From what you’ve told me, you’re well and truly stuck like this.” Chloe took m hand. “Your choices are to try and adapt or appear to everyone like a really butch woman. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but you know the way people are. Going that route cuts you off from certain choices or at the very least makes them harder because of people's prejudices.
“You’re like me in a lot of way, but you’re also the exact opposite.” She sighed. “You don’t know anymore about how to pass as a woman then I did when I started. Oh, I had some ideas, but they were almost all wrong."
I saw the spark as she got an idea.
“Have you ever heard that saying about Great Britain and the United States; Two nations separated by a common language?” She asked.
Nodding, I replied, “Yeah. Although we both speak English, our cultures are different enough that it’s hard to really understand each other. Just watching BBC America can tell you that.”
“Exactly!” She laughed. “That’s how men and women are. We speak the same language, but each really does have their own culture.”
The she turned serious. “Forget all those TV shows and movies that seems to think the only things a man needs to pass as a woman is a dress, makeup and talking in a falsetto.
“Did you see a few women looking at you curiously at the mall? Although no one in million years would think that hard body of yours is anything, but female, you were still giving off the wrong signals.” Chloe explained.
“Like what for instance?” I didn’t think I’d been that bad. Yeah, I did see some curious expressions especially from the older shop keepers, but I didn’t think anything of it.
“Like everything!” Chloe exclaimed. “The way you talked. Your word choices and inflection were all guy. I’m not even going to go into how you walk or the way you flopped into that chair at the food court.
I winced.
“That bad?” I asked dreading the answer.
“That bad,” she confirmed and looked at me as if searching for something.
“I bet,” she began. “That you had some idea of doing the Superman thing. Here is mild mannered student Larry Danvers, but after a quick change in the phone booth here is Supergirl!”
I winced again. Thank you but I’d about all the Supergirl stuff that I could handle given Alex, Alana, and a certain five year old girl that’d told the whole world that Supergirl had saved the day.
However, Chloe was right. That had been my thought. Larry was a guy, and Supergirl was, well, a girl. The perfect disguise right?
I didn’t need to say anything, she just shook her head.
“Cousin, I love you to death, but boy are you dense sometimes. Have you ever been in a locker room and seen how guys zero in on anyone different? Having been the victim I can tell how. Without the clothes giving gender clues it’s all about body language. That’s how I outed you. That ring can make you look like the old Larry, but it can’t make you move that way.” Chloe glared at me.
“Your little charade might last for a while, but it would only be a matter of time before someone worked it out. MIT doesn’t exactly have a reputation for graduating idiots. And that’s another thing. Once your Supergirl pops up, you’re going to have the entire campus rubbing their hands together in glee at the challenge of figuring out who you are. If you’re going to make this work, you’re going to have to be way more sneakier, cousin of mine.
“Then you have the government,” Chloe rolled her eyes.
I choked, “The Government?”
“Already there are noises on Capitol Hill about regulating and controlling Metas. Talk is that there will be an agency to register and control any emerging Meta. Supposedly, it would be to help and support new Meta's, but I don't trust any bureaucracy as far as I could throw it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t already looking for you.” She folded her arms after making her point.
Oh boy, that wasn’t good. Mom and Dad might be the biggest liberals in town, but our family had a strong Jewish background even if we never practiced. We remembered all too well the lessons imparted by Nazi Germany. That registration thing just was not going to go over well.
Then it hit me, Meta-gene. If I had it then other members of my family might too. This could bring a lot of attention not just to me, but our entire family. Heck, our entire town, given how everyone here was related to each other. Who knows, maybe the Meta-gene doesn’t work that way given how rare its expression is, but no way was I going to be part of directing official attention at people I cared about. I firmly believed the government works best when it’s bothering someone else.
With a long sigh, I asked, “Okay you’ve made your point. Do you have any suggestions?
Chloe’s evil smile really made me regret asking.
“Do you have pen and paper?” She asked with unholy glee. “One of the things your plan was missing was you need to make time to come to terms with the girl thing.”
She held up a hand seeing my objection. “Yeah, I understand you want to complete your degree as Larry as well as having to lay low to catch that high tech terrorist of yours. However, you have to think of your mental health too, and making time to do that is also important.
“I’m not too sure about you trying to be the super spy, but you do have that Green Lantern watching your back as well as being near invulnerable.” She shrugged. “That’s between you and your parents.
“What I would suggest is take as much of the attention off of your Larry identity as you can. I think you can do both at the same time by setting up a civilian identity as a woman. That way you get to practice at being a woman as well as if you do have do your Supergirl thing everyone will think it’s her and not you. Even better if you make her so in-the-face and outrageous no one will even dare think of anyone, but her as that crazy blond flying around.”
“And how would I go about doing that?” I asked half-appalled at the thought. I barely had any free time at all during the school term. MIT wasn’t known for slacker course work either.
“It’s easy,” Chloe giggled really getting into it. “All you need is to come up with a false ID card like everyone does for getting into bars. Maybe add a fake school ID too. Even better find a nearby college with someone with the same name you’re posing as and fake their ID. We could even build you a legend like out of the spy thrillers. Come up with an entire background for you.”
“I don’t know, Chloe,” I told her shaking my head. “That sounds really complicated, and I spend most of my time studying anyways.”
“That’s why it’ll be perfect!” She exclaimed, excitedly. “If we get you an apartment in the area you could say you’re roommates. Hey, we could make her,” she made ditto marks with her hands, “Your cousin. That would explain why the two of you have the same accents and talk the same. With both of your ID’s in school, you can always say the other is off studying. It’s a great excuse!”
“An apartment!” My poor mind was boggled. “And who is going to pay for it? It’s only because of the scholarship that I’m at MIT at all. Do you have any idea what the cost of living expenses are like at Cambridge?”
“You’re going to need a place by yourself anyways. Maybe that ring can make you look male, but you’re still female. Unless your Jovians don't ovulate, you’re going to start having periods. No way are you going to be able to hide that in a dorm full of guys.” She folded her arms.
I must’ve made quite the face judging from her laughter. Periods? I hadn’t even thought about that. While I might be able to carry out my disguise in public, private was something else. While I could adjust my actual weight, that’s only when conscious. Sleeping, I made a 360 pound depression in the mattress, and while they might be designed for more, all that weight was in the compact form that resembled Marilyn Monroe. Mom had already almost discovered me once like that. Additionally, every bed for me it was like sleeping on a ridiculous soft marshmallow that kinda swallowed me up. So yes, she did have a point.
Unfortunately, so did I. Finances was a big issue.
“I don’t suppose you can squeeze coal into diamonds?” She asked hopefully.
The bad science of the mere thought hurt, but I kept my mouth shut shaking my head, no.
Mom and Dad made pretty good money at the Agri-corp lab where they worked, but the Boston area was very expensive compared to Kansas!
Maybe there was some other way of using my new abilities to help out with things. I had to say however, it wasn’t appealing. It was like it was cheating somehow. On the other hand, this was at least a little like being a real spy. If I wanted to catch that murder, I would have to do things I didn’t like.
“Larry!” My Mom called. “Your father is home.”
Near invulnerable or not my face paled.
Chloe gave me the look.
“Come on. It’s not that bad.” She encouraged. “Besides I’ll be right there with you.”
“Really,” I asked.
“Really, Silly,” Chloe replied hopelessly trying to pull me up.
Taking a deep breath, I reduced my weight so she could.
“Okay,” I replied feeling worse then when my dog and I had trampled Mrs. Kravitz’s flowers way back in the fourth grade. At least then it had really been my fault, not like now.
All the way down the stairs, Chloe was right behind me, as if I was going to make a break for it. I wasn’t, but this was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Not making it easy on me, Mom and Dad were simply sitting there waiting for me.
“Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you.” I said, feeling my mouth go dry. It was nice to know I was still human enough for that. Come on, I can do this.
Dad just raised an eyebrow during my retelling, but Mom made him sit next to her. Afterwards, she had a hold on me and just wasn’t going to let go. He however always was practical.
“I understand Larry, that you’re still using this Jade’s disguise. Can you show us what you really look like now?”
While I fumbled for an answer, Chloe interrupted.
“Uncle Joel, if I may. Having gone though something like this myself I would suggest you let Larry change out of sight this first time. I think his just changing right in front you would be a shock. This whole changing gender thing can really mess with your perceptions. Better to take this slow.” She explained, taking my hand.
I knew she was being a little pushy, but she had after all had some experience in all of this, sorta kinda. Mom really didn’t want to let go, but I smiled at her.
“It’s okay, Mom.” I reassured her. “I go around the corner and drop the magic ring thing.”
Reluctantly, looking over at Dad she let go.
The moment we were out of sight, it hit me. What in the world was I going to wear? The whole oh-my-Gawd girly-thing thought had me almost in hysterics.
Chloe, seeing my distress, calmed me.
“Easy Larry,” she whispered. “Just go ahead and change. We’ll work out the rest.”
Walking back out to meet my parents, I was dressed the same as before as Larry, but, thanks to Jade’s ring, it all had a feminine cut. In other words, everything fit. Okay, I did take the bondage gear off the ‘girls’ if you know what I mean. Having them restrained wasn’t comfortable at all!
“Here I am,” I announced uncertainly.
Dad just kinda stared dumbfounded, but Mom got up and walked to me. Then she hugged me.
“So that’s what I’ve been feeling,” she said looking down at my protrusions.
Blushing so red that Chloe, beside me, laughed, I nodded.
Carefully, I hugged her back. The acceptance made my worries disappear.
“Joel, come over here and meet our daughter,” Mom asked Dad, but I could hear the steel in her voice.
It scared me some the way Dad just looked at me, but then he smiled. I guess he was looking for some sign of me in this blond bombshell I was now.
“She has your eyes, Lora.” He said holding out his arms.
As Larry it’d been forever since I’d hugged my Dad. Somehow as a guy, I’d grown beyond that. All right, I admitted there was something good about this girl thing. I might be stronger than he was, but just letting myself be loved was nice.
The rest of the conversation however, wasn’t. They weren’t happy at all about me being the stalking horse for terrorists. That wasn’t all either.
Mom and Dad did get into it. If she had her way, I would be at home and not at MIT. He pointed out that I was an adult and that I’d worked hard for my achievements. However, he wasn’t any more pleased about me planning to spread myself really thin trying to keep up with my school work, and deal with my new life far from home and support network. Mom countered that was why I needed to be home so she could help me.
Somehow, I convinced them this was something I had to do. After all we had no idea of why I was apparently targeted. Whoever it was might decide to come after me no mater where I was. Additionally, as fast as I could fly, home as well as Chloe was only an hour or less away. That also brought up the fact that I had other Metas on ring-speed-dial. Not only in case of Mr. Terrorist trouble, but in case I needed girl help too.
So not happily, but they did agree with me. Of course they insisted on helping me refine my plans, which wasn’t totally a bad thing. I did need the help. It was them that suggested I run my plans by Jade.
Honestly, I don’t know how she has even time enough to sleep. If it’s not one emergency after another, she's off trying to help us Metas. “Oops, landslide in Chile, gotta run, and after that Thor-girl has got to go shopping. Have you seen her wardrobe?”
However, despite that Chloe had an idea of how Jade and I could help each other.
After my dear cousin’s thoughts about me squeezing coal into diamonds flopped, she got to thinking about things I could do that no one else could. She came up with Space Junk. I had to admit that she had something there. LEO is lousy with debris, but most of it is so small I couldn’t do anything about it. We’re talking about paint chips, dust from solid rocket boosters and tiny other bits and pieces less than one centimeter. Don’t think that because it’s small that it’s not dangerous. At orbital velocities that stuff is like bullets or the mother of all sandblasters. On the other hand, the bigger stuff I could do something about and at least some it of was valuable.
Chloe’s thought was I could clean up some of that junk, and let Jade broker the valuable pieces for me. Her ring would let her be nearly the perfect middle man keeping my identity safe.
Hearing the idea, Jade did it one better setting it up on an automatic Ebay account. I simply asked my ring to enter the new item, and let them handle the rest. Where to store the stuff until the bidding was done, was an issue. However, if there was one thing Kansas had plenty of, it was cornfields and barns.
As for delivery, I did it myself using an all black body suit patterned on that ski-suit I’d borrowed that stewardess. Yes, I did return it, but I kinda liked the all black thing, and when I added a mirrored full face shield, I felt easier now that my identity was safe. Hey, plus when I really moved, even on camera’s I wasn’t anything more than a blur.
My first job was recovering some tools and other odds and ends the friendly people at the International Space Station had managed to accidentally lose. I still had misgivings using my talents for profit, but like Chloe said, “A girl has to eat.” Flying was still a blast and fortunately most of the stuff was being tracked. The one piece I had trouble finding, Jade finally gave in and pointed it out to me.
Then it was simply a matter of warning the ISS I was coming so they didn’t freak out. Tethering the stuff onto one of their ELC, External Logistics Carriers, so they could use their robotic arm to bring it inside, my job was done.
The total value of all that was a couple hundred grand and that wasn’t counting the cost of lifting it to orbit. I’m not saying how much, but the recovery was enough to take care of my expenses for the next semester.
It should’ve gone even further, but this double life of mine was beginning to look expensive. Two sets of everything, one for Larry, and one for her. Clothes, bedroom stuff, and everything needed to make it look like two people were living in that apartment really added up.
Then I have to have yet a third for the super-me. The clothes made by Jade’s magic ring were nice, but it really didn’t seem like I was wearing anything at all. Thank you very much, but I needed something that felt like I had clothes on. Chloe had some ideas about that, but I had my doubts about letting a reporter pick out my wardrobe. Flashy really wasn’t my thing!
With all of that, my holiday was over before it’d felt like it’d begun. Chloe did help me do a little apartment looking in Cambridge although she swore she was never flying with me again. My gravity field thing is no where near as good a ride as Jade’s green bubble thing. Think sedan as compared to a motorcycle. I don’t think my cousin stopped screaming the whole all the way there. On the way back, I took it a lot easier; something for which she thanked me later.
I guess not everyone likes kicking it vertical at mach 5 to sub-orbital and then a straight drop right back down to mother Earth. Hey, my grav field protected both of us and had a trapped pocket of air for her.
All Chloe did was mutter something about that romantic scene in ’Superman; The Movie’ not being all it was cracked up to be.
However, it was time to stay on the ground. I hailed a cab to take me to my new home for the next few months. It’d taken Chloe and me a lot of looking to find the right place. My new digs were on the top floor of an old brick warehouse converted into apartments years ago. A major selling point was the windows opened wide enough for me to fly in and out, which wasn’t minor detail in this age of energy efficiency. Not only was there not a view, it opened out onto a dark alley, which assured me that there would be few witnesses of me coming and going though sky-port Danvers.
Okay, it wasn’t the Fortress of Solitude, but it would do. I had a ton of work and the term hadn't even started yet. Unpacking for two, as well as getting ready for classes. This was going to be a very busy year.
Alex Thorul- Imagine my surprise when I first met Larry’s cousin. She was so like Supergirl, all she needed was the costume.
This a fanfic of Lilith Langtree's Retcon Universe. All the Characters within belongs to someone else such as DC or Marvel comics. With that in mind this story still belongs to me and I reserve all rights to repost.
It is not for profit, simply for fun. Insert standard disclaimer! A big thanks goes to djkauf for looking this over for mistakes.
Alex Thorul-
Imagine my surprise when I first met Larry’s cousin. She was so like Supergirl, all she needed was the costume. Long blond hair, eyes so blue they were like sapphires, and last, but not least, a body built for sin.
“Hi, I’m Carol, Larry’s cousin.” She said with that same mid-western twang.
“I’m Alex and this is Alana.” This had to be the one who screwed up my plan, but I never expected her to be anything like this. There was this innocent nervousness that was utterly captivating, but at the same time she was dressed to show off that previously mentioned hot body of hers.
I never had a problem with attracting the attention of the opposite sex. All I had to do was pick and choose which one I wanted to sample. While other boys got the Birds and the Bees talk from their Fathers, I got the Connoisseurs’ version from mine. As an ex-pro ball player, he’d had to fight off groupies, and fans trying to get into his pants.
Since I took after my Dad in looks, he taught me how to use that to my advantage. Sure maybe women have that reputation of using their appearance to get ahead, but he showed me how men do it too. Tall, muscular men are imposing and make an impression on everyone. That’s why I followed his example and went with the shaved head. It made me stand out even more and that gave me an advantage.
It was the kind of advantage he used on the playing field, in college, in the bedroom and finally in the boardroom. It’d landed him Mom as his wife as well as a top position in one of the top 500 companies in the world.
The wise son took notice.
“Oh, he said something about some friends coming by to study.” She said grabbing her purse. “He’ll be out in a second, but I have to run. It was nice meeting you however, I have my own study group to get to. Catch you later.”
I watched her as she waved bye and headed for the door. As much as I wanted a piece of that, I couldn’t help but notice the competition. Alana was nearly drooling watching Larry’s cousin’s derriá¨re sway in those tight jeans. Yes, she was wearing heels, and not the universal cross trainers of most coeds. Yes, competition, because when this Carol had waved bye, she did it looking the lipstick lesbian in the eyes. And no, I wasn’t the one wearing lipstick.
After the door shut, I tested the waters.
“So that’s Larry’s cousin,” I remarked. “Not what I was expecting.” Wasn’t that an understatement. I’d searched the internet for information about her, after leaving Larry at Logan International. What I’d found was a whole lot of nothing. That was close to impossible in this age of social networking. For a young college girl not to have an account where she could work out her texting addiction bordered on the completely impossible.
There were several Carol’s in the Boston area including one going to school here in Cambridge. However, she wasn’t from Kansas, and Larry’s cousin spoke with the same twang he did.
“Uh uh.” Alana replied dazed, failing to hide her interest.
Was it possible that Larry and this girl could be the same person? There were some reports that Terra had some way of disguising herself, but there wasn’t any proof. Certainly, if Jade was involved she could provide some type of device considering the level of technology available to her.
“Hiya, guys!” Larry greeted coming out of his room. “Carol leave already?”
Okay, maybe not. She would have to go upstairs to the roof. Fly down to the outside window without being seen. And then change clothes as well back into Larry. All in the scant few seconds while Alana and I had been standing here. I think not.
Alana nodded trying to pull herself together.
However, I had to keep from laughing. How would the poor smuck react to his cousin having a better shot at Alana than he did?
“Hey, you two want anything to drink before we start?” He asked. The typically clueless Larry.
I found myself looking at the door. Who are you, Carol Danvers?
Larry/Carol Danvers
Not this again, I moaned to myself as I heard the screams.
Alana and I had just left Alex from our study group at MIT's Hayden library. She was in good spirits, but while we got a lot done, I was conflicted. The reason we left together was because we had a date, sort of, kind of. By that I meant she had plans to go out with Carol and not Larry. Sure it was only a shopping trip, and I was really thankful that Chloe had introduced me to how women preformed that activity.
But …, no matter how you wanted to say it, this girl I was crushing on so bad, was more interested in girl-me rather than boy-me. It was messing with my head regardless of the little fact that both me's were, well, me.
To put the crowning touch on it, the past few weeks had seen a series of really weird accidents that I'd suspected wasn't accidental at all.
Mysterious things like experiments gone crazy like the AI lab that had impossibly taken over the building's systems causing elevators to malfunction and the fire control systems to activate.
Or…like now more runaway robots. The dozen or so people were running at us being pursued by these sphere shaped, beach ball sized machines. I counted at least nine of the things and from the way they moved together I guessed they were part of some kind of corporative and possibly a distributed network.
A sharp crackle of electricity, followed by a yell of pain informed me that at least this time they weren't designed for the local robot wars crowd. Flamethrowers and chainsaws, you just had to love MIT sometimes.
Maybe given the cattle prods this group was intended for herding or perhaps crowd control. I would've been much happier if the designers here remembered Asimov when building these things.
Alana stared at the sight in front us.
"You've got to be kidding me!" She exclaimed staring at the scene right out of a really bad Sci-Fi channel movie.
I grabbed her hand.
"Run!" I shouted. Sure I told Jade I wouldn't go looking for trouble, but it seemed it had come looking for me. I'd helped out few people having problems because I simply couldn’t stand around and do nothing when I could help. The dilemma with that was because of my keen Jovian senses I was a lot more aware when there was something happening that needed a helping hand.
The other difficulty was that I was about 99% dead certain that someone was causing all these weird happenings on campus. It was still early days, but this could be my terrorist. However, if so they were being very cagey.
Jade had found traces of that alien tech on campus, but was unable to localize it. Even with her resources the damn things were hard to detect. The bad news was if the nanites were the cause, it was going to be very difficult bringing this to a stop.
First thing, however, I had to stop this incident, and to do that I needed to get Alana to safety as well as a little privacy for a half second.
Seeing a group of gawkers peering out a door, Alana needed no encouragement once I pointed it out to her. Both of us ran past them, but as she turned to look behind us at the spectacle, I deliberately let go of her hand, letting the crowd trying to see what was going on, separate us.
It was a simple matter to leave out the other entrance while everyone else rushed forward. Trust me, it really wasn't like lemmings hurrying to their doom. You have to remember that this was MIT and if there was one thing everyone here had in common, it was curiosity!
As for me, I triggered my change as I opened the door. My Junior GL secret decoder ring had me in my work uniform. Okay, it was only an illusion because I was really still in my usual sweater and jeans. My real work clothes were hidden back in my apartment.
They were something that Chloe had somehow gotten that were made by Queen industries. The all black one piece jumpsuit was very tough stuff and official available only to military, police and other law enforcement agencies, so just how she managed it was something I didn't want to think about too much.
On the other hand, real clothes were better than the ring's normal illusions. When I could I wore outfits made the old fashioned way since I enjoyed the comfortable sensation of actually being clothed. However, sometimes, like now, you just had to make do with what you had.
Glancing down at my chest, I still had reservations about the motif Chloe had added. Very vocally, she objected to the plain black I preferred. Personally, I thought it looked rather cool. You know that whole good guys wear black thing. She didn't see it that way saying that I needed something that would stand out.
My protests that I already was standing way too far out as it was pointing at my 'girls' fell on deaf ears. You would think I would've learned by now that arguing with her was a losing proposition. Finally I talked her down to simply adding a silver insignia.
It didn’t escape me just how much her simple 'lightning bolt' looked like a stylized 'S.' How many times do I need to say it?
"I'm not Supergirl!" I cursed louder than I intended, leaping upward into the sky.
Half looping and rolling, I Immelmann turned back over the building I'd just left. Then I dived, buzzing the 'bots letting my grav-field bounce them around. I figured their computers would need time to adjust to their new locations. That was good because I needed a chance to work out how to handle this.
Easy would be to use what cousin Chloe called the Death From Above maneuver. Fly up and using my own mass as well as my flight, and land on them smashing them flat.
Easy yes, but I couldn't help but wince at the thought. Each one of those beach balls were hand built by my fellow students. In some cases, even the circuit boards were hand soldered. A lot of work and labor went into each one, and that's counting the fact that their grades may depend on those things as well.
Zap!
"Ouch!" I flinched as one of the prods flicked out at me. It really startled me rather than hurt. They'd recovered faster than I'd believed. That was a problem because I still hadn't worked out a solution other than Crush-Kill-Destroy.
On the other hand, I needed to wrap this up quick. Those cattle prods weren't lethal, but several students had been hurt. Mostly I suspect from the panic, but these things were still the cause. The campus cops was sounding the look-down; an unpleasant reality of all colleges in the 21st century due to school shootings.
Buzzing them again to keep them off balance, I shaped a rough gravity field lens that let me get an up close and personal look at one of the killer beach balls. The clear material let the gyro-stabilized cameras inside see out as well as keeping the primary bus and control unit reasonably level and centered.
Down the center was a traction strip it rolled on, but that wasn't what I was looking for. Ah, there on the right side of that was a shiny silver border going all the way around too, the antenna.
Focusing my eyes, I shifted to active infrared. A puff of smoke and the unit rolling to a stop announced I'd been on target. Being a distributed network each one I took out reduced the operating capacity of the whole.
Now to take care of the other eight.
Alex Thorul-
Who are you, Carol Danvers?
That was still my question when The Blur began making their appearance. At first no one really believed it, but after a few people were saved, it became inescapable. Boston had a superhero. Or perhaps if I was correct a super-heroine?
Disappointingly it wasn’t a red and blue blur like out of the Smallville TV program, but a black and silver one. Even more discouragingly, despite nearly everyone carrying a camera phone these days, no one managed to get a good picture.
Now I’d seeded some more of my little friends about, because frankly, having access to nearly every memory storage device on campus was very useful. However, they began disappearing. No warning, just gone. Sure it was easy to replicate more, but it meant someone was on to me, and that wasn’t good.
Mother would be so disappointed in me if I broke the family motto. “Thou shall not get caught.”
I’d even tossed a few at Larry and Carol’s place, but with the same result. That made it so tempting to just cover the whole of Cambridge to see the where this nanite eater effect was centralized, but again the risk dissuaded me.
Getting caught was one thing, but I had to remember that while they were my little friends, these friends had their own agenda. Turning Greater Boston into Gray Goo wasn’t a part of my intentions, but who could be sure of theirs?
Sighing, I settled for setting photo traps. Oh, nothing really bad. Just a few arranged accidents with a lot of recording devices to catch all the action and details.
Damn it, but didn’t The Blur prove to be a very cagey adversary. So I planted a few rumors to get the campus looking at the mystery as a challenge. That was more successful yielding some better resolution images, but opening up more questions.
Instruments did register some bizarre changes in gravity during appearances of The Blur as well some other effects that couldn't be explained. Of course, I though immediately of Larry’s end of term project, the Jovians. However, I’d pretty much proven he couldn't be The Blur. Now Carol was still a prime candidate, but again I had problems confirming or denying that hypothesis.
The records I’d found of the only Carol Danvers in the area said she was a Boston native, but a casual inquiry explained her accent by her spending summers with family in Kansas. She was also in Air Force ROTC with the goal of becoming a pilot. However conversations confirmed that she was well versed in aeronautics. Then again, Larry might be coaching her which put me back to square one.
I considered simply asking her to date, but I, again, disliked putting myself in harm’s way just in case she really was The Blur. Preferring to work behind the scenes, I instead nudged Alana into spending time with Larry’s cousin. Planting listening devices on her was much more rewarding, and I got a chance to pump her about their dates.
That worked better than I anticipated. They both were smitten with each other, but never consummated their attraction. It did let me find out that during every appearance of The Blur, Carol went missing for a time. Not a 'smoking gun' since I couldn’t monitor her 24/7, but it was more than I had before.
That left me with engineering bigger and better bait. The first was just a runaway robot armed with an assortment of power tools. What was the fun in playing Robot Wars when you couldn’t attack the other team holding the remote?
Of course, The Blur arrived saving the day, but while more information was gathered, however, none was conclusive. Before I would try eliminating someone else I had to be absolutely certain of my information and the outcome. Considering the force I calculated necessary to remove someone like one of Larry's Jovians it would be spectacular to say the very least. That meant it would draw a lot of attention which also meant I would only get one opportunity.
That criteria demanded more experiments. Exploding labs, more runaway experiments, and any other sort of mayhem I could imagine.
Each and every time The Blur did her thing, yes, her. Finally I got a half-way decent image. It took a super high speed digital camera and more computer time than I want to admit cleaning up said image, but I got a picture. And it did me absolutely no good. How dare she wear a mask!
And not one of those flimsy things from the comic books either. This thing covered her entire head leaving only a mirrored shield. No facial recognition software was going to help me with that! When I had a brainstorm and used her body, it came up with Marilyn Monroe, for Gawd’s sake.
Based on the body alone, The Blur might be Carol Danvers, but again nothing solid. Merely on circumstantial evidence Carol was still looking like my best choice. However, I actually saw her get cut so which would seem to rule out her being the bulletproof Blur, but there are ways that could be faked. It all came down to the old 'she knows that I know, that she knows' if you understand my meaning.
I was considering ways of obtaining a DNA sample when the playing field changed. It seemed that all of my 'investigative' efforts had attracted the law enforcement attention. I wasn’t concerned about forensic evidence since my little friends served quite well as a cut out. But The Blur’s activities had also bought in the DMA as well as other three letter agencies.
The absolute strangest thing was my big break came not from one with three letters, but one with four, NASA. It seems one black suited woman with a silver face mask had been collecting and clearing space junk for them. Recently, she’d offered to bring back Vanguard One for them so they could study how being in orbit for 50 years had affected it. Of course they had leaped at the opportunity, and of more interest to me, she’d been paid for it.
Happily, I followed the money. Right up to the point I hit Jade-at-Green Lantern dot org. Information went in, but I couldn’t track what went out. Unsurprisingly, given the name, it was a data black hole, no doubt protected by alien computer technology. It did prove a connection between Jade and The Blur, something of which I helpfully passed on to all the interested three letter organizations.
It isn’t I’m the helpful citizen. In the last few months, they’d all become far less enthusiastic over the woman in green. Because of that they were more motivated to hunt down this so mysterious Meta. Maybe the DMA was formed to help developing Metas, but they certainly didn’t seem adverse to using them when it served their purposes either.
Besides, with them on campus I could cut back on my own efforts and concentrate on other things. It was so nice to see someone else's tax dollars at work.
A project that I'd been working on for some time was my own further development of Larry’s symbiotic concept. Setting up the lab was the hardest part of the whole undertaking. It didn’t need the full bio-hazard protections that working with nanites required. I after all had my little friends. The problem was before I would risk my one and only body with them, they had to be not only my friends, but utterly and completely my servants.
That meant overriding their existing programs which meant I needed computer power, and I do mean a lot of it. However, I also had need of facilities needed to grow the biological components. Can you say MIT’s Department of Biological Engineering? In this particular case, I needed skin.
The largest organ of the body, it protects the under lying tissues from the environment. In short anything that could harm yours truly had to get though that first. My symbiote would serve as an additional layer of protection between the world and me, but yet still let me have full use of all my senses. Actually, I went a step even further improving upon what nature gave us by giving me night vision, better hearing, and even a keener sense of smell.
And the best part was that it would live off of my secretions, and what it came into contact with on an everyday basis. I could live with it, but it couldn’t live without me, perfect!
But first I had to do some reprogramming. It’s amazing what you can find in Kansas farm fields. One of Mother’s agri-corp robotic harvesters found the alien artifact, but it was me who recognized just what it was. It must’ve been a spacecraft, but it come out the worse after that fender bender with planet Earth. It took me all of about a minute and half to say that it was not part of the Space Shuttle Columbia just now showing up.
My parents, never ones to miss an opportunity, immediately slapped it under so much security no one had a clue for what was really going on. My own involvement was rather short lived. Once I got a really good look at it, and told my Parental Units, they knew they simply didn’t have the resources to exploit this properly.
I knew it too, which was why I dug for all I was worth while I had the chance. The really remarkable thing was that it was alive in its own way. One big mass of nanites differentiated into specialized tasks. What grabbed me the most was the central mass which was nothing more than a huge very protected and extremely advanced memory storage unit.
Imagine an entire world digitized. Every life form, pebble, and drop of water preserved in a still active matrix, an electronic miniature world. Of course, I named it Kandor after the city Brainiac had captured in the Superman comics. What’s more there wasn’t just that one, but hundreds of captured worlds.
Then my Uncle came on the scene. My grandparents had cut us off from the massive corporation they controlled, but Mother now had something he wanted. She knew how to play hardball and kept the majority of control researching this fallen serendipity. However, once the paid brains descended upon us, I got patted on the head and told to run along and play.
Knowing better than to even try and cross Mother, I passed along to her everything I’d found. Most, but not all, because I did keep my samples. Building upon my earlier successes, I learned how to communicate and gained some measure of control. Ambitious yes, but I was unwilling to let Earth become yet another file in that alien ship.
A big question was why it hadn’t repaired itself yet. I had to wonder at the timing of it all. From the estimated time it’d dug out a crater in that cornfield, to the moment Jade revealed herself was only a few months. Were the two events were related? These Green Lanterns did present themselves as some kind of Intergalactic cops.
Did she or perhaps another Green Lantern shoot it down? If as I suspect that Kandor wasn’t simply recorded, but captured much like that bottled city then I can see Brainiac being a very real threat, Grand Theft Planet! I can understand why for after all, why collect something if it isn’t one of a kind. Then again, I wouldn’t want it happening to any world I was on, thank you very much.
That was why I had to be careful. That’s not talking about the other problems. For some reason the symbiote matrix didn’t want to accept my DNA. It kept differentiating back into the separate stands I’d inherited from Father or Mother. I highly regard both of my parents, but I have no desire to look like either one of them. The symbiote’s external appearance needed to be indistinguishable from my own unique self.
The latest was another failure. This one already had the beginnings of Mother’s auburn hair follicles. On the other hand, each generation allowed me to refine its other properties. I suppose any other research project would be proud to have created a new life form. However, I had higher standards.
I allowed it to continue to develop so I could evaluate if tweaks in other areas were needed. While it was cooking, so to speak, I went back to hacking alien computer code. There was the core kernels that I’d isolated. Preparing my assault, I launched the first wave designed to tie up resources while I carefully segregated each sector. It is far easier to divide and conqueror after all.
Everything was going well until I hit some kind of trip wire. The best I could describe it would be a computer code version of the dead-man switch. After losing touch with either a certain number of modules, or perhaps a specific one, it initialized a self-destruct.
Under the electron microscope, the nanite exploded. Not a problem since it was so small, but then the one next to it followed suit. There was thousands of nanites in that sample. There were millions, hundreds of millions, no billions in this lab helping me with one project or another. If they all went in a chain…
I threw myself to the floor just as the entire high voltage microscope blew. My little friends had suffered a temper tantrum, it appeared. Next, the desktop I used to scan all the pirated data I’d collected on campus went up like a bomb. It was a good thing I kept off site backups.
The fire sprinklers went off as I crawled towards the exit. My laptop went off next, my backpack not even close to containing the blast. Eying the burning fragments of what was left of my custom machine and school books, I decided the window was a better bet.
Then there she was. She stood for a fraction of a second evaluating the situation, The Blur. I knew she wasn’t that tall, only about 5’6”, however that black outfit of hers couldn’t disguise her figure silhouetted in front of the window she’d just entered. A large stylized Ess shaped lightning bolt was centered on her costume which explained the silver part of the Blur along with her mirrored face shield. If I’d only known that all I had to do was blow myself up to meet her!
I blinked and she was right beside me. Scooping me up as if my solid 245 lbs were nothing, she turned to leave when the ‘skin’ I had cooking went.
And I was right in front of it.
The last thing I remember is a muttered, “Oh shit” from her. Well, she sure had that part right.
The lights didn’t go out. They exploded into a sun consuming me.
Larry/Carol Danvers-
I sat on the edge of Massachusetts General worried about my friend. Hell, I didn’t know for sure he really was or not, a friend that is. Things kept going back and forth so much I didn’t know what to think. He’d encouraged Alana to date me, I mean Carol, but then he started this contest like let’s find out who The Blur really is. Then he’s all nice again, but watch out here are the Feds and it looks like he’s feeding them information all about yours truly.
Sighing, I had to admit, I made a very poor secret agent. I had no more of an idea of who killed those people on that plane, then when I first started. I wasn’t even sure who I was sometimes. Was I Larry, Carol or maybe it’s The Blur now?
Well, I guess, I could take Alex off the suspect list since I very much doubt he would blow his own self up. However, I wondered just what he’d been working on? According to the lab log it was an artificial skin project, but something in there was sure as hell was a lot more volatile than the chemicals noted on the room’s hazardous materials list.
It was also a sure thing my terrorist was involved given the mountains of nanite parts I’d detected. Over the past year, I’d learned a lot. One of those things was how to tell when my own internal nanites detected intruders. Like a biological immune system, mine went after them like they were a virus.
At first I wasn’t sure he, she or it was the cause of some of the strangest incidents on campus. Even considering this was MIT, they were weird. I mean, runaway robots, like for real? But then it became clear that someone was engineering accidents just for me.
Behind me I heard the footsteps. I knew who was of course. The DMA had been putting pressure on me to participate in their program for some time now. Given my advantages, I’d been able to avoid them. However, several weeks ago they piled on more by strong arming NASA not to avail itself of my services anymore.
That relationship always had that good/bad thing going. I was always careful to only do things they absolutely couldn’t, like recovering those tools. Normally all NASA could do was chalk them up as lost. Being able to help out with those kinds of things was a good thing. Both of us won. They were actually saving money, and I got to practice using my abilities as well as make some money on the side.
However, I didn’t want them to grow to depend on me either. That was why I was picky when dealing with them. The other salvage was different. There was a learning curve knowing how to best dispose of the stuff. Put it up for bid or scrap it myself for whatever valuable materials I could and make sure the remains burned up.
I wondered if the DMA was going to pressure Ebay as well. Short term, I had a nice cushion built up. Flying around up there was both profitable and helped me worked off my frustrations. Considering Jade was really on the outs with like it seems like everyone, they might cut her site off.
I couldn’t help myself, but glance up at the moon. If you looked just right you could see just a tinge of color. Personally, it made me smile. Mars wasn’t up yet, but I knew Jade was there. She was living what I’d dreamed about my whole life, going out there, To Boldly Go.
Oh well, back to business. “The answer is no, Agent Carmichael. I choose not to avail myself of your agency’s services.”
“This isn’t a choice.” He gloated. “You’re required by law to register your real identity and address to the proper authorities, me.”
“You’re actually mistaken, Agent Carmichael.” I replied not turning to look at him. “I’ve read your charter. Your mission is to support and assist emerging Metas. No where is there a registration requirement. Unless of course you’re now working for the DEO. Theirs is much more open ended and open to interpretation. In any case, I choose not to participate.”
Opening my senses, I could taste the radio traffic buzzing busily all around me. Specifically, I was aware of the hidden earphone and sub-vocal mike on the man behind me. It was encrypted of course, but when your entire body is one big commune of nanites, you have a lot of computing power.
A group of four guys dressed in SWAT gear waited behind the stairway access about 25 meters away.
'Blue Two is in position.'
Another four had crept up using the industrial sized air-conditioning units for cover.
'Red Three, ready and willing.'
Two men, directly in front me on the building across the street, were observing me. One had a scoped sniper rifle and the other a spotter scope.
'Green Four. We have the target sighted and laid in.'
Of course, Agent Carmichael had to crisis manage everything himself.
'This is Gold One. All units hold fast for my signal.'
Somehow I kept from giggling. How Star Wars of them!
“If you don't, I’ll arrest you as a terrorist suspect for tonight’s bombing at MIT.” He tensed up. “We know who you are, Chloe Sullivan.”
Okay, I lost it, snorting. “I’m sure Miss Sullivan, whoever she is, will be very surprised to hear that. No, but please try, Agent Carmichael.”
Not being able to help myself I sent,'This is Red Five, I’m going in!'
It’s really not my fault that Chloe decided it was her gawd given duty to educate me in popular culture. Really I should’ve never let her know I could visit home so effortlessly. Hmm… maybe they managed to track my flight path somehow. In any case, if I know Chloe she was prepared for just about anything including this.
While Carmichael was sub-vocally freaking out, I called her. One of the other nice things I’d learned was how to listen to radio waves. It was simple to work out the cell phone system. Blue tooth had nothing on me. Look Ma, no hands!
Ringing:
Chloe: Hey Carol what’s up?
Me: Nothing much. Just wanted to let you know the DMA finally managed to corner me. Our friendly neighborhood terrorist struck again and put my friend Alex in the hospital. They caught me on the roof waiting for news.
Chloe: Oh no! Is he going to be alright?
Me: I hope so. He was crawling with nanites despite my immune system eating them up. Oh and get this.
Chloe: Yes?
Me: They think you’re The Blur.
Chloe: *Laughing* I only wish!
Me: At least you know who you are. I have to keep a play book handy just to make sure I’m who I’m supposed to be.
Chloe: Okay, that part I don’t envy you.
Me: Well, I’ve got to go, just wanted to let you know just in case they try anything.
Chloe: Thanks for the heads up, Carol. Sounds like a plan 34!
Me: No problem. I knew you had to have something prepared. Bye!
Chloe: Bye, bye, be careful.
Meanwhile my Agent Smith wannabe was having trouble trying to keep sub-vocalizing.
'This is Gold One. Whoever you are Red Five identify yourself!'
I raised my hand. Just in case, I bought up my grav field keeping it very close to me so the shear factor would work as a defense. I was only mostly bullet proof and that was an awful big rifle sitting over there. Against bullets it worked pretty good, but not so much versus standing in front of laboratories blowing up like small nukes.
“Why, Agent Carmichael are you trying to vote me off the planet?” I said aloud.
Dumbfounded at the developments he replied, “Huh?”
“This is, after all just one small world. Didn’t you people learn anything from Jade? Like her I can just leave, however I have a job to do and you’re interfering.” I patiently explained.
“And what might that be,” He demanded, recovering some of his composure and arrogance.
“About the only thing you’ve got right is that there is a terrorist. I’ve been working undercover trying to catch whoever it is, because they are using advanced alien derived technology. That is what caused this latest explosion.” I said, carefully keeping myself calm.
“Sure you are. If so, who are you working for?” He requested sarcastically.
Thinking about Jade and the now Star Sapphire Corps, the answer was simple.
“You don’t have a need to know.” I said, with a smile.
“Now!” Agent Carmichael of the DMA ordered.
Before the word came all the way out of his mouth, I snapped upwards at high sub-sonic, mach 0.85. The displaced air blew him backwards, but my calculations were on the money. He stayed in the building.
I almost missed the aircraft that vectored in after me. Considering how often I did the Boston to orbit thing in this age of Homeland Security paranoia that was remarkable. Or maybe not, since I was a small target and could shape my nearly frictionless shield thing leaving a very tiny footprint.
Like I said, I’d learned a lot!
Even still seeing the bright thermo flare of a missile launch caused me to swallow hard. They were really shooting a missile at me?
It was a very good thing that within my field I didn’t feel any effects from acceleration. Even a Jovian would be goo from the kick in the pants of going from subsonic to Mach 5. The damn thing was bigger than I was, although we weighted about the same. According to the stats, the Stark AIM-120 AMRAAM missile was limited to Mach 4, but I wasn’t taking any chances. A second later, I pushed even harder coming near Mach 6. The missile limited by aerodynamics didn’t even come close.
Breaking atmosphere, I hung there for a moment watching the beautiful planet turn beneath me. Then I turned for the moon aiming for that small dot of sapphire. Right now, I really needed to feel the love.
Alex Thorul-
Awakening was not pleasant. The sounds of medical equipment and the astringent odor all hospitals have were the clues of damnation. I’d royally screwed the pooch, and worse, got caught.
Opening my eyes, I saw Mother and Father. My evaluation of my condition changed. I’d Royally Effed up beyond all possible redemption. All that was missing was The Blur and the Green Lanterns or whatever color they were this week, pink, blue, or polka dots for all I knew. There of course to arrest me.
However, while the private nurse rang for the doctor, I saw someone I didn’t know. He was silhouetted against the window. My eyes sight shimmered for an istant as his image became clearer.
I had to take a deep breath. This went beyond simple adapting to the light. I knew what it was. The flawed symbiote I’d been working on. The one that’d exploded in my face thanks to that damn meddling Blur! If I’d been left alone, I could’ve safely crawled to the window … probably.
I closed my eyes taking silent inventory: Faint tugging upon my head despite my keeping my head bald. There were strange shifting sensations upon my chest with every breath. My sense of smell seemed to be keener picking up on Mother’s perfume, as well as Father and that stranger’s aftershave.
There were three hypotheses. One of those was very inconvenient, while the second was very bad. The third I could discount since I was still alive, reasoning and had a sense of self.
“Alex,” Mother whispered. That more than anything told me how worried she was. Her, our, family had always stressed being decisive.
“Mom,” I mouthed back. No, I wasn’t ready to test that out yet, and I decided that right now neither of us wanted the usual formality.
Lifting a hand, so I could see, I dropped it back on the bed.
Father looked me in the eye and simply nodded.
Theory number two it was, much to my dismay.
The DNA in the growth solution along with fragments of millions of my little friends had hit me at the speed of sound. Some of them must’ve escaped destruction by the dead-man switch chain reaction/explosion, and they had continued on with their previous programming.
So instead of my being in a burn ward, the nanites had continued building the symbiote using me for the raw materials. Since I hadn’t been completely consumed, that was Hypothesis Three, at least part of the developing symbiote had protected me as designed. Instead of it serving a protective addition my flawed creation had alternatively replaced my own badly damaged ectodermal tissues.
“Speak to me, Alex,” Mom ordered. “I didn’t give birth to any cowards.”
Dad’s expression over her shoulder showed he supported her.
“No you didn’t,” I answered missing the baritone I’d inherited from him. Unsurprisingly, I sounded a lot like her.
“Of course not,” the stranger by the window added. “You are family after all, despite past disagreements. I doubt it’s even in our nature.”
As he turned, I knew that profile. Anyone familiar with the world of high finance knew his face as well as they did Steve Jobs, Tony Stark, or Bruce Wayne’s.
“Uncle Alexander,” I greeted the uncle I’d never met.
A glance at my parents had them silently giving me grace to continue.
“Please,” He said, before I could say anything else. “We’re family, just Lex.”
“Uncle Lex,” I replied refusing to drop that much formality. It was a shield against whatever had prompted him to leave his corporate offices. For more than 20 years he’d ignored family ties and even had continued the estrangement my grandfather had begun when he’d disowned Mother.
He wanted something and wanted it bad.
My Uncle nodded to the doctor who rushed in. Examining me, the physician had the usual plastic smile that went along with his paid bedside manner. It quickly became obvious he wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know. I had designed the original symbiot and was intimately familiar with the defective DNA.
Tuning him out, I turned my attention to what was truly important, the unspoken communication between my parents and Uncle. Clearly a deal had been struck, and it’d involved me and my altered circumstances. Just as obviously, it was for high stakes.
Another gesture from my dear Uncle had a pair of orderlies muscling in a full-length mirror. No, he had no need to throw his weight around. Like a singularity, everything else threw themselves at him. Extreme caution was needed or otherwise I would lose my own freedom fated to orbit around him until annihilation.
To succeed I would have to be daring, innovative, and focused. Taking the first step, I studied my reflection. Perhaps it was best to say what I didn’t see. My impressive six feet four, bald intimating African-American masculinity weighing in at 245 pounds wasn’t anywhere to be seen. No more dark eyes or stony brow where a simple stare could force others to do what I desired.
Although I’d expected it, seeing it was not …pleasant.
Mother’s fiery auburn hair and green eyes were there, but the flawless café-Au-lait they rested upon was astonishing. I realized that somehow my original DNA was also a part of the mixture that’d formed the new me.
That was reassuring. I loved and respected Mother, but there was no desire to be a copy of her. I would like to think that I was more than the sum of my parts. That me was singularly unique and a one of kind.
The more I saw, the more that became apparent. Yes, I was smaller in both height and breadth, but again not quite so much as Mother. Perhaps I could even be called slender given how my little friends and my creation had ravaged my entire body for resources. However, there was still the promise of strength even if it was more along a feminine design than the one I preferred.
Taking inventory of my assets it was plain I would have to revise how I interacted with society. Although Father had taught me well how to use my masculine advantages, I wasn’t fool enough not to be aware of how Mother trumped him at every turn. She was an expert plying her trade of getting what she wanted, a master, or rather a Mistress of the art.
I had new things to learn. Mother and Father both nodded in approval as they saw my realization. Remembering how ruthlessly efficiently she helped me with my calculus in my advanced placement school homework, this was going to be anything, but a breeze. She demanded perfection, and believed that if you truly wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.
As the hired help cleared the room, I knew we were finally going to get down to the real business.
Uncle Lex cleared his throat.
“Alexander Thorul is dead. He died in a laboratory explosion.” He walked up and stood by my bed. “The Meta known as The Blur is wanted for questioning regarding the incident, but I fear there simply isn’t enough evidence to charge her for causing it, pity.”
I gave silent assent for him to continue. In any case that was my feelings as well, although pity doesn’t exactly describe how I felt. Someday there would be a settling of debts between her and I, but for now I had more immediate concerns.
“The tragedy of losing Alexander has pulled our fractured family together. The Thorul’s has bonded with you, my long lost niece.” He didn’t so much as explain as he commanded. He was my Uncle.
“Who knows,” He said, dryly. “Perhaps seeing you take such an active role by my side will convince my own daughter to return.”
“So,” I asked. “What is the real reason for all of this subterfuge?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t underestimate jealousy and envy, my dear,” my uncle remarked. “It is possible this will return her to the fold. However, the primary motivation for this is that you were a bad girl. You, hmmm… appropriated corporate property.”
His hand came up before I could protest.
“Yes, I know it was you that discovered the uniqueness of the artifact. That does not mitigate your taking it.” His eyes met mine in disapproval.
“What does,” Uncle Lex said, after letting me stew for a few moments, “Is that you’ve managed to get further than any of our other researchers working this project. While like any good corporation we’re looking into several different avenues regarding this new technology, all of them come with unpleasant strings attached. I would much prefer having full access to its fruits.”
I frowned disagreeing over my perceived success.
“All I did was blow up myself and my lab.” I held up my transformed hand to make my point.
“I can’t imagine how you feel right now, but I can tell you that there are worse fates. You did avoid nearly all the, let’s call it, copy protection, with the exception of that last. Additionally, your methods allowed you to gain at least partial control. Perhaps that interloper, The Blur, is responsible, but the very fact you’re alive and not very seriously injured in the burn ward, is proof you’re on the right track.” he countered.
“And let’s be frank. These aliens have all but invaded our world. Posters of them and their Meta quislings are sold in stores all over the world. Only a few months ago this Jade brutally attacked another group of aliens without any explanation. Then she flaunted the law by refusing responsibility for her crime. If we want to keep Earth from being sold like Long Island for nothing more than a few beads, we have to be bold.” Uncle Lex said passionately.
He did have some valid points. We knew from our own history what happens to a lesser advanced civilization when it runs into another further developed. And it was clear that these Green Lanterns weren’t universally loved either, given that incident my Uncle mentioned. They could be taking advantage of us and we would never know. We had only their word, and who knew how much that was worth?
“Okay, so I come clean and disclose my research.” I put his ‘offer’ into simple terms. “And in return my family gets back on your Christmas card list?”
“Oh much more than that, my dear!” He laughed. “For one you’ll be a part of the team studying, I believe you called it Brainiac. You’ll be on your own, but will be expected share your results as the other researchers will have to also disseminate their own findings. And since my dear sister Lena, your mother, is in charge of the project, you can be sure your contributions will receive all due consideration.”
“Additionally,” he continued, “You’ll be groomed for a position high within the company. While I may want my daughter, who is named after you, Sister, to inherit the company, it will not leave the family.”
Did he say what I thought he just did?
“Uncle, I’m more of the hands on type than a manager, although you and Tony Stark are examples that both can be done.” I replied, not trying to sound too eager. Hands on, maybe so, but the prestige and power of sitting at the head of the table of Luthor Corp? Hell yes!
His eyes hardened at the mention of Stark, one of his chief rivals, but he didn’t let that stop him. Everyone in this room knew working out the details of this ‘deal’ was going to be complex.
“So is it a deal?” My Uncle asked.
I held out my hand, that too small, too pale and far too damn feminine appendage, to shake his.
“I’m your girl.” The words leaving my mouth were pure bravado. There was no need for me to glance at Mother. She knew me, but I was certain that before she was finished with me, I would be just as effective as I was under Fathers tutelage. Perhaps I would be even more so given the advantages of my symbiote. Stronger, and faster were definitely possibilities, but I was already more perceptive. Little clues like odor, and changes in pupil dilation were much easier for me to detect. All were things that could be read and used to my advantage.
He smiled taking my hand in his like he would a woman’s.
“Welcome to the family, Alexandra Luthor.” My Uncle Lex kissed my hand. Time would tell just who had made a deal with the devil.
Carol Danvers-
I was feeling pretty damn low by the time I got home. Alex was dead? I’d done all I could, but it hadn’t been enough. That terrorist was still out there and worse now the DMA, the DEO and who knew who else was after me now.
It was only a matter of time before they had American Dream or Wonder on my trail. Despite how depressed I felt, I was real careful going back to my place. Where else could I go? Home was out. No way did I want to drag Mom and Dad into this mess. Chloe was already in trouble and probably being watched. That left only my apartment, I shared with me, and myself. Talk about being sad.
Surprisingly, I didn’t find anyone or even any surveillance devices watching my place. Oh come on! My disguise can’t possibly that good. Just how many women are built like I am? It boggled my mind that they honestly thought Chloe was me, The Blur.
Perhaps they saw her transitioning and jumped to the conclusion it was really just covering up a Meta transformation. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Additionally, there wasn’t any official documentation that listed a Carol Danvers living here.
I hope if they did pick up the real one, that she wasn’t too inconvenienced. Did that mean I wasn’t real? Besides, going to classes as Larry, I spent nearly all of my time as Carol.
The doorbell rang. A quick glance using my super-duper vision revealed a worried looking Alana.
Guilt flooded me again. She’d lost Alex too.
A very rushed costume change had me as Carol, opening the door.
Crying, she fell into my arms.
“Alex is dead!”
Somehow, I got both us inside before my own tears joined hers. Then my failure to save him overwhelmed me in great sobs shaking me down to my very soul.
It became her holding me. Sure, it was a part of our culture that men don’t cry, but I wasn’t a man any more. I hadn’t been for a year, and while I’d learned so much about been more than human, I was still learning about what it was to be a woman.
Blame it on hormones and the moon, I was much more emotional although I could set it aside if I had to. By that, I mean it wasn’t debilitating, and in a lot of ways it was good. It seemed as a boy, male, a man, that I’d never truly felt anything as intensely as I did now.
The most important of all of those things was the love I had for the woman holding me. At first, the jealousy I felt was ironic as all get out. From the very beginning, anyone with eyes could see Alana had the hots for me as Carol. However, me as Larry had this long time crush on her. Could you really be envious of yourself? I certainly tried.
Really, as Carol, I fell headlong for Alana. She was a different person than with Larry. Oh she was still the same pixie faced genius who changed her hair color and style as often as she did her clothes, but she also had this romantic streak, she normally covered up with this cynical shell.
So, yeah Larry dreamed of her, but Carol had the reality. That was the problem. I didn’t get it until the second or third time something bizarre happened near Alana. My Terrorist suspected that she had something to do with The Blur. In other words, my relationship with her was endangering this woman I cared so much for.
Very cautiously, I did the best I could not to involve The Blur near her. However, I couldn’t completely stop appearing when she was around either. You know that old statistics thing where a negative can prove a positive.
I also couldn’t push her away for the same reason. Okay, it’s true. I couldn’t do it, although I thought about it. I loved her too much. Yes, it would hurt me, but it would also hurt her. That I just couldn’t make myself do that no matter what the reason or rationalization.
So I was crying for a lot of reasons.
“It’s not your fault,” Alana whispered in my ear as she smoothed my hair.
Time froze. She knew?
“Everything’s all right.” She told me softly. “I’ve known for awhile now. Did you really expect me not to notice how you and Larry are never in the same room together or how when there’s trouble you just happen not to be found?
“And when you had you cousin Chloe standing in for you don’t count.” Alana said smiling red eyed from her own tears.
“I don’t know how she looked just like you, but, you two covered it all except for your scents.” She answered my unasked question. “Chloe prefers Victoria Secret Pink and Vera Wang’s Princess, but you’re a Moon Sparkle girl.”
Despite my weeping, I blushed. Chloe brought it for me as a joke, but I found I rather liked the fruity sweet smell.
“However, what gave your Larry identity away was Dolce and Cabbana’s “The One.”
“Huh?” I replied confused.
“That’s the scent I wear, silly!” She said punching me. “It was that night when we really made out. Then the next day I smelled the scent on Larry! I do have a very refined sniffer thank you very much.”
“Alana,” I began, but she put a finger to my lips.
“No you listen. I love you. For someone who was never in the Boy Scouts, you’re the biggest one I know. You don’t have a clue of how tough it is not knowing what’s happening when you pull one of your Superman phone-booth stunts.
“I bet you didn’t even know that someone was recording that whole business of you sitting on top of Mass. General.” She continued almost angrily. “It’s a good thing I color my hair because it would all be gray after seeing that jet shoot that missile at you.”
“You saw all of that?” I was astonished that someone manage to film it all.
“Yes, all of it.” Alana said scathingly. “There’s this school in town called MIT. It’s one of the top schools for technology in the country, so maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“It’s all over Youtube.” She said blandly. “The second you were seen hanging out on the roof, the nerd patrol scrambled like crazy to get their cutting edge cameras there in time. What else do you expect Miss I’m moving so fast I’m only a blur? The only person I hear is faster than you is the Flash in Phoenix.
“So yes, I saw every detail as the person I love is being shot at by the US freaking Air Force.”
Okay, Alana is a little upset. Wait! Did she say love?
“Could that missile catch you?” She asked. “No, don’t answer that! I don’t want to know.”
Love? She loves me?
And another thing,” She went on. “I saw that second movie. Don’t you even think about doing that super hypnosis thing on me.”
“Even If I could, I would never do such a thing.” Returning the favor, I placed my fingers on her lips. “Hurting you would hurt me. I love you too!” I replaced my fingers with my lips as I gently kissed her.
The two of us had made out before, but hadn’t gone any further. Perhaps it was my secrets that’d been between us. Maybe it was the grief of losing our friend that’d broken the barriers holding us back. Our passions carried us to new unexplored places which neither of us regretted.
As the morning sun shined her rays upon Alana’s face sleeping at my side, I felt more tears tickle down my cheeks. Of all the awe inspiring sights I’d seen this last year, this one moved me more than them all. The Earth rise over the Sea of Tranquility came so very close, but none more.
However like all moments it to passed lost in time, but never would I forget this.
Then Alana proved me a liar as she opened her eyes and smiled into mine.
The doorbell rang.
A thermographic glance revealed a Fed Ex guy with a package. With all the weirdness going on in my life, I couldn’t ignore it.
Giving my love an apologetic smile, I got up. Since Larry officially lived here, I did my magic ring thing back to him after passing briefly out of Alana’s line of sight. I’d learned from Chloe and my parents that seeing me spontaneously change could creep people out.
Signing for the registered letter, I wondered even with all my troubles who it was.
Alana must’ve seen my face fall as I began reading. Tenderly she took it from my slack hand, as I nodded my okay.
Her response wasn’t much different from mine.
“Are you going to do it?” She asked, as she held me.
“Yes.” Clearly I was over my head. It was time to ask for help.
One week later-
One of the great things about having this super-vision thing was being able to peek out from behind the curtains without anyone knowing. For that matter the wall, or just about anything else, I mused nervously as I tried to make light of the chaos waiting for me out there. Despite the cold, it was early December in Boston, there was a big crowd.
I really wasn’t sure about this, but I had to trust my advisors. Everyone thought this was the best way to handle this whole snowballing mess.
They weren’t the one who was going to have to be out in front of that pack of animals. What am I saying? That was an insult to the animal kingdom. It was far worse than that. We’re talking about the press!
“Blur, you’re on!” My ring buzzed with the signal from Chloe.
It was show time. I wish I could be as enthusiastic as Mr. Incredible about those words. Launching myself from the roof, I floated down gracefully. Falling snow flakes swirled around me, but it would take far more severe conditions to bother me.
“That’s it. Let them all know you’re the real thing.” My hidden supporters coached.
I wasn’t so sure about that given how many Metas could fly and was tough enough to brave this weather. I sure as hell was giving them an eyeful. There was nothing wrong with my full coverage black jumpsuits and face mask. I even let Chloe put that lightning bolt on it to liven it up.
But no! That wasn’t good enough for this … this …. Event.
About all it had in common with my normal, okay, it’s a costume, is it’s mostly black. That is along with making me feel also mostly undressed! Sure my arms and legs are covered, but it was everything else in-between I had a problem with.
At least Chloe had decency to blush when I asked what fetish site she ordered everything from. I mean really! I had on gleaming long, black, opera gloves, and these thigh boots which really put me outside my comfort zone. What made me even more uncomfortable was the one piece swimsuit-like thing I was wearing. With the gloves and boots, it left my shoulders and a lot, a whole lot, of my upper legs and hips bare.
If it hadn’t been Alana who’d approached me about the bikini waxing someone would’ve gotten hurt.
The lightning bolt was still there, but now it was a golden yellow going from my left shoulder zigzagging across my breasts to my right hip. No, we’re not trying to call attention to anywhere are we! Then the women, not content with that, decided I needed more color and added this silly red sash. The damn thing wouldn’t stay up, so it ended up pined to what little fabric I had on my right hip so it would hang just so.
You don’t want to know what happened when very innocently I asked if they wanted more color why I couldn’t have a cape. At least that would be practical and help cover me up.
No Capes!
And my so useful silvered full face mask? Gone too, replaced by this completely useless domino mask that didn’t conceal anything at all.
As soft as a feather, I landed in front of the podium Professor Swan’s lawyers had arranged. Next to it was a cloth covered stone.
“I’m going to make a short statement and then I will answer a few questions.” I announced, even more uncomfortable with how high my voice squeaked, despite my support team assuring me it was perfect. Finally, I’d found out just how Alana had spoofed Alex all those months ago. She’d bound helium atoms with a slow release compound into a piece of gum. We were using the same basic method to disguise my voice now to foil all those with high tech audio gear.
“This past week a student at MIT died. I attempted to save him and flew him to Mass. General. Despite my efforts and that of the trauma team he didn’t make it.”
“Okay great! Now look at everyone going from your left to right.”
I surveyed the crowd just as Chloe directed. All of this was just one big show. There was ton of makeup on my face as well as even some movie stuff to change the shape of my face. Jade had helped some too directing the ring to help the disguise like it had when I had pretended to get cut a few weeks ago.
“The DMA tried to arrest me, after I’d already given a statement to the local authorities when I’d carried Alex Thorul to the emergency room. In the past, I’d been pressured to cooperate with them, but I have no desire or need for their assistance.” I paused to take a breath. Everything I was wearing was designed to help throw off any observers. Hell, I was even wearing a wig with my own blond hair hidden. That was just for any sharp-eyed observers and a few of those artificial hairs would be left behind here at the podium for anyone else who was curious.
“Much has also been made of the work I’ve done for NASA. I’ve always thought of it as being like the kid who helps cleans up a neighbor’s backyard for some extra cash. All the items I’ve recovered or disposed were things the present technology wouldn’t let them touch. For a fraction of the cost, I could and did take care of the problems for them. Like I said, just the enterprising kid earning some extra bucks.”
After I received that letter from Professor Swan’s lawyers, Siegel and Shuster, I had a talk with them. They were happy to represent me. Things were still up in the air, but at least I hadn’t had to leave the planet. I would not have my freedom taken away, and certainly not for something I didn’t do.
“However, the real reason I called this conference is because of Professor Otto Swan. This last week was especially tragic for MIT because not only did a student lose his life, but they also lost a long time teacher who was much beloved by all who knew him.” I felt my eyes misting and hoped I could make it though this without breaking down.
“It wasn’t violence, but the infirmities of old age that bought him down. Despite those health issues, he insisted on teaching to the very end. His passion and teaching methods inspired generations of students here. Those same students have gone on to make a tidal wave of discoveries and inventions that have changed the world. He will be missed.” A ragged breath reminded me of just how little I wore, but my own passions were overwhelming me.
“But not even death could halt his enthusiasm and zeal. He left instructions that I or Jade be contacted upon his death. The Professor’s last request was that his ashes be taken to Mars and be placed upon the tallest mountain in the solar system, the Home of the Gods, Olympus Mons.”
I uncovered the plaque.
It was pretty much your standard looking headstone. According to his letter to me, it was made to withstand the conditions on that far summit. Another thing that was different was the blacked out area on the bottom.
“As you can see, the epitaph has been hidden. The Professor specifically requested that as well. The only way to know what it says will be to go to Mars and find out for yourself. Think of it as his challenge to all of us to reach beyond our limits not just as individuals, but as a species, for all of mankind.” Damn, a tear slowly ran down my cheek anyways. I just had to hope it wouldn’t dislodge any of this makeup.
“I’m ready for questions, now.” Not really, but this was all part of the show.
“Are you really going to take this to Mars?” One of them asked disbelievingly. I think her name was Lois Lane.
“That would be a yes,” I answered. “Jade currently has her own problems with the government and so is unavailable. I think of it as my own trial to test my limits. It’s well within my abilities, and if I do run into trouble, well, Jade is after all already on Mars. Think of it of being like swimming the English Channel.”
There was a lot questions I didn’t answer like how long would it take me. They got an “It's classified,” and a smile.
One good question was, “Would I be doing anything scientific while on Mars?”
“NASA has been prohibited from tasking me with anything,” I pointed out. “However, it is Christmas. We’ll just have to see.”
“Good job, but it’s time to wrap this up!” Chloe directed.
I was about to follow her directions when the red headed photographer standing next to Lois Lane yelled, “I thought you were suppose to be some kind of Supergirl, but you have a big lightning bolt like Captain Marvel out of Shazam. Which are you?”
That made me pause. I’d enough of Supergirl a long, long time ago. Glancing down at my scandalous costume, I had to admit he had a point.
“Well, so I do,” I said smiling. “Just call me, Ms. Marvel.”
Picking up the half-ton memorial, in one hand, I waved with my other as I rose into the air. Clearing to a safe distance, I went to Ludicrous Speed. This girl had places to be.
MIT campus 12 hours later-
Snow fell upon the burnt out ruins of the lab. Black ash and soot were all that remained of the high tech facility. The yellow warning tape waved in the chill breeze, but with the campus on holiday break there was no one to see.
First one very tiny speck of black soot turned reflective, and then another. Glittering in the gloom, as if looking around for danger, tentatively they grew larger to the size of marbles. Sensing no threats, a virtual constellation of shining specks appeared all over the charred building.
The two original scouts began moving, rolling like marbles over the other smaller latecomers. As they did, that mass was added to their own, growing larger. The rest of the sparkling hoard began moving as well. Faster they rolled inward making a weirdly beautiful spiral as all the shiny bits collected in the center in a pool that resembled obsidian glass. Shimmering, liquid like, it began flowing upward like a melting ice statue filmed in reverse. As the last traces joined the ebony form, it gained definition and detail further refining itself becoming human-like.
All motion ceased, but for the falling snow.
Bottomless, deep black eyes opened as the figure took first one breath and then another. Slowly it looked around the ruin laboratory. Spotting a clear path out it took an uncertain step, but the second one was better. By the time it’d cleared the devastated building its stride was sure and confident. Ignoring the yellow caution tape blocking its way out, the broken plastic ribbon twisted in the wind behind it.
Not looking back, the dark figure's footsteps were soon swept away by the snow leaving no sign of its passing.
Griffin is your usually outcast teenager who sees the opportunity of a lifetime land in someone else's lap. However, he's not about to let that stop him or his friend Danny from achieving their dreams.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
To Elrod who has generously let me and so many others play in the remarkable worlds he's created! Thank you!
Prologue:
The lone silver box tumbled though the not so empty space between Earth and the Moon. About briefcase sized, it's journey had begun as one of many units being prepared for shipping following its manufacture by Gamalfi Corporation's automated factory 1138. Loaded into a Fwirthian merchant star ship for transport, it's destination was far away markets to enrich its creators. Then, the box's trip took a turn for the strange when a pirate attack led to the accidental ejection of many cargo pods, including the one that it and many of its brethren had been carefully packed within.
A long fall began as the box's pod was drawn towards the solar system's small yellow sun. Along the way other cargo pods were caught by the gravities of the outer planets or collided with the scattered asteroids as they made their way though the belt between the fourth and fifth planets.
A few, like its pod, were pulled toward the third planet. That pod ended it's journey upon that planet's single, very large moon, but that was not the end of the box's travels. In a fine example of cosmic pinball, most of the box's fellows were scattered and buried on that dusty, airless plain, but some few were thrown high enough to escape Luna's weak gravity as it sling-shotted towards Earth.
For a time it lingered near the gravitation eddy of the Lagrangian One point, but that was not to be its fate to stay near motionless in the void. However it did serve to separate it even more from it's very few remaining fellow travelers to let it enter the Earth's atmosphere alone and with little fanfare. Lacking anything to burn off besides the moon-dust of it's very brief stopover and the accumulated particles as it made a leisurely journey from the Moon to the Earth, it's meteor-trail was faint and hard to spot.
That is, unless you happened to be looking at exactly the right spot.
Chapter One
Griffin
Urban Hell Acres
The stars were shining brighter than usual, sighed the teen perched on the roof. Here, trapped in Urban Hell Acres, they were too close to the big city to really see the faraway suns, but he did the best he could. That didn't take into account all the lights in Upton Heights Acres, a supposedly upper-class neighborhood, that was lit up like the brightest day. It was only here on the roof of the three story wanna-be mansion that shielded him somewhat from the streetlight's glare that Griffin got any kind of decent view of the night sky. Tonight's better than average show was because the latest weather front had blown all the haze away leaving an almost painfully clear sky for once.
Of course his Mom and Step-dad, Chris, would blow a gasket if they knew he was out here. His being on the roof with his binoculars would have both of them in orbit because the only reason they could think of would be wrong. It was a very good thing they were out for the night.
“You can't take the sky from me.” He sang softly to the stars above. Astronomy, space that final frontier, was his passion. Looking up into the night sky at the planets and stars, they had captured his imagination. Filling his eyes with the ancient lights that had traveled for hundreds, thousands, millions of years before they reached him, filled him with wonder.
Griffin wouldn't say he'd never used his binoculars to look at non-celestial 'bodies' below the horizon, but those were the exceptions and not the rule. His grandparents, whom he'd spent his last four years with, had nurtured his love of science. It was they who'd bought the specialized 15X70 glasses although really they weren't that expensive. They were easier to store than a telescope and because of that caused less speculation as to their use. Last Christmas when he'd asked for a more capable telescope, Chris had immediately leaped to the erroneous conclusion he was going to use them to spy on the neighbors.
The teen scoffed. He didn't need any optical devices to do that. Here in this so-called up-scale development the mini-economy sized mansions were so close together he could nearly leap from one roof to another. The backyards might be fair sized, stretching out behind the pricey homes, but with the privacy fence each had, there was just enough room to walk between house and fence without turning sideways.
Compared to the sprawling rural farmhouse of Grandpa Joe and Grandma May, it was night and day. Although he would forever miss his Dad, in some ways he missed his Grandparents even more. After his Mom had remarried and Chris made his views on having a 12 year old around from a previous marriage very clear, he'd lived out in the country with them. They'd taken a grieving boy in and tended his heartbreak of effectively losing both of his parents.
He sighed again, upsetting his sighting of Saturn. Griffin loved his Mom, but sometimes he didn't like her very much. However, after Grandpa Joe had his heart-attack, leaving them, everyone knew Grandma May would soon follow. They had one of those loves he'd heard sung in ballads. It was as if they shared one heart and soul.
He'd sat there with her as she passed peaceably in her sleep a smile on her face as she looked forward to reuniting with her love. Unfortunately, that meant his Mom had little choice, but to take him. She hadn't abandoned all contact because he had visited occasionally during school holidays, but that didn't mean she was happy with the circumstances.
Chris had grudgingly accepted the situation since Griffin had always been on his best behavior in the past. It wasn't because he was sucking up, but because that was the way he was raised. Being polite cost nothing and could reap large rewards. Besides Grandma May always said her grandson had an old soul.
Realigning his glasses again, he felt he'd no choice. As much as he was loved by the two who took him in, he'd still had to deal with the practical aftermath of being an orphan. Plus there was that 'other' matter that gave him no other options, but to abandon any ideas of normalcy.
His introspection instantly evaporated as he spotted the moving dot of light. The absence of running lights ruled out an aircraft and the trajectory was all wrong for a satellite. Griffin's mind raced as he saw the dot expand to a streak. It wasn't making an arc, but growing larger.
Crap, it was heading almost directly at him!
Chelyabinsk, Russia and its meteor instantly came to mind, but this one wasn't anywhere vaguely near that big or bright. As a matter of fact it was leaving very little of a trail which meant very little of its mass was burning away. That made him consider it might be something man-made returning to Earth. Still it might be worth a lot if it landed nearby enough for him to recover it. That is, if it wasn't easily identifiable. NASA claimed anything of theirs that fell back to earth even if it was in pieces.
However, he had real reasons for wanting his own cash. Sure his grandparents had left their inheritance to him, but he couldn't touch that till he was 21 and who knew how much taxes would leave him? No, once he turned 18 there would be changes although in a lot of ways it was already far too late.
His Mom might easily pass as a much younger trophy wife even if she had a teenage son, but he took after his father. Hell, he'd been called Little Griffin because he resembled his very masculine father so strongly they could think of nothing else to name him except as a Junior.
The other kids at his new school just didn't believe she was his mother at all. She had to be his older sister or something, right? Just as bad was their thinking he'd been held back a grade or two because he looked older than 16. To his dismay, he'd been shaving since he was 14, and not peach fuzz either.
The first thing his fellow classmate wanted of him was to go out and purchase beer for them as if every place didn't check ID's now days. His telling them what to go and do with themselves pretty much ruled out his making much in the way of friends. Well, besides Danny. However, his friend's condition and situation ruled out them being able to do much together in the way of active things.
He tracked the incoming opportunity, wondering what to do if, in that million to one chance, it did hit him or the house. Nothing to do, but wait and see, Griffin decided. He didn't have time to get off the roof and if it did hit the house his chances for securing it were between nil and zero. Besides this was the best place to spot where it did land.
Seconds later he was cursing as the potential golden rock from the heavens hit close, but right in exactly the wrong place, the neighbor's backyard. Of all of the yards it could've gone, it picked Steven the Perv's. Just to make things absolutely perfect, the Perv and his live-in boyfriend, Brian were soaking in the hot tub out back.
Rather surprisingly, it didn't sound like a bomb going off when it impacted. He decided it was between a shotgun going off or a loud firework display. The windows didn't even rattle. What it did do was make one hell of a furrow in the soft well-manicured lawn which might explain why it hit so softly. Just last weekend Brain had practically redone the entire layout, laying new sod as well as planting a lot of new flowers.
Actually Griffin thought the 'boyfriend' was pretty cool and a nice guy. How he'd gotten involved with a major asshole like Steven was beyond him. Brian didn't need to put up with all of The Perv's BS, since he not only ran and owned his own florist and gardening shop, but collected black belts in the martial arts like they were baseball cards.
Steven was a different story. Openly gay, The Perv ran a robotics consultation firm, as well as having business interests in a number of high-tech manufacturers in the area. The thing was, Steven was not above using just about anything to get what he wanted. No matter if it took playing the Gay Card or down and dirty business and financial tactics, he did not take no for an answer.
Griffin even once heard the Perv accusing him of being a bigot, which made him laugh. He knew just how screwed up he was which made him the last person in the world to be pointing fingers at anyone for being … odd. However, unlike back with his grandparents and neighbors were neighborly, these people here couldn't care less until you violated some infraction of the Community Association Nazis by painting your door the wrong color or planting the wrong stuff out front where it could be seen.
As he plainly put it to the big, blond living stereotype. “It's not gays I don't like. It's you.”
Curious, the two men got out the tub to investigate the newest addition to their landscaping. Brian, lithe and dark, at least wrapped a towel around his waist while the vain, arrogant Steven predictably did not. Looking like one of those well muscled male models from a Playgirl magazine, he just had to take every chance to flaunt his body and superiority.
Yeah, Griffin had looked at that magazine, wondering about his likes and dislikes, but the naked guys didn't do a thing for him. On the other hand his reaction to the pictures in Playboy was more … complicated, making him wonder how much was attraction and how much was only his … difference.
Griffin averted his eyes, really not wanting to see what The Perv had swinging in the wind. However, he was curious about that fallen star too, and focused his binoculars on the crater. Thinking about it, he moved more into the shadows from the eaves so he wouldn't be seen.
Brian did know he stargazed up here sometimes. Sure enough, the boyfriend glanced up in his direction, but it appeared Griffin had stayed hidden. Still it was a relief when the man in the towel went on to join his nude companion.
Griffin felt like a sports announcer at a bumbling high school football team's game. 'No, don't get too close. It probably too hot. If it's man-made, its possible it has toxic residue from fuel, or even radioactive. No, don't drag it out with a garden rake! You need to take pictures of the site first. Something was really weird about this and it all needs to be documented.'
He was utterly flummoxed when he saw the silver, metallic looking briefcase sized box. No, the careful counting he did when he first sighted it indicated it had fallen from far higher than any airplane flew. It was definitely not lost luggage. Besides, he reminded himself, it was hot enough from the atmosphere to literally glow white hot and leave a glowing meteor trail. Briefcase or not, it had re-entered the atmosphere.
Just where the hell could it had fallen from? Had the International Space-station lost yet another tool kit? What in the world was it made of that could survive re-entry at all, much less look like it was brand new?
The next two hours were a couple of the strangest he'd ever experienced. If he hadn't taken pictures of the whole thing with his phone, Griffin wouldn't have believed a word of it. He still couldn't believe it.
First, The Perv had dragged the thing back to their hot tub where he fiddled with it much to Brian's dismay. Then the thing had sudden 'unpacked' itself like something from a bad Sci-Fi alien invasion movie. The thing simply stretched itself into a booth that was many times larger than the original box. That'd caused both guys to run for their lives only to have Steven reappear defensively carrying a golf club while Brian had retrieved that garden rake.
For a moment, Griffin felt like he was at the town of Working in England or Grover's Mill in New Jersey. Would an army of Bug-eye aliens erupt from the booth intent on invasion?
The answer was no.
What really happened might be even stranger than even an alien invasion.
Luck was on his side since what he guessed was the control panel and door faced where he could see them. About half of that side was taken up by the door. The remaining area had the likely controls of this thing. It had a flat black rectangle centered in the middle of the section while below it was a flat oddly shaped red crystal. The red just didn't look right to his eyes.
He had the distinct impression that perhaps the crystal was emitting colors out of the spectrum that was visible to humans. There was also these weird purple glowing symbols that just had to be an alien language.
As Steven lowered his golf club and began running his other hand on the controls, Griffin realized that the red crystal must be a hand print. That is if your hand only had three fingers.
'No, don't touch the button on the alien machine, stupid!' He silently kept up his commentary. A shiver raced up his spine as 'The Perv,' true to form, put his hand on the the crystal.
A row of more of the strange symbols suddenly appeared on the black rectangle, joined by many others until the 'screen' began scrolling down as it filled.
As soon as Steven removed his hand, it stopped, only to begin again when he put it back. Finally it stopped, leaving only one last row of blinking purple characters.
Brian, after watching all this and demonstrating just how unhappy he was about his boyfriend's taking chances with something they knew absolutely nothing about, dragged the much bigger Steven away from the machine.
As much as he rejoiced that one of the two guys was showing some sense, Griffin winced. Just as he feared, Steven angrily pushed Brian away. Not expecting it and only wearing a towel, he danced a mad step, keeping his balance.
The Perv just had too much ego to let anyone tell him what to do, much less Brian. For some people, of which Griffin suspected his step-father Chris was one too, the power was more important than the relationship or love.
Angry words, of which the Eff-Bomb consisted of more than half of what was spoken, or more accurately shouted, at each other. It was good thing it was Friday night and most everyone living nearby was out and about on the town. Besides, even if these houses were close together, they were well insulated from their neighbors as well as the climate.
Not really caring about the lovers' quarrel, he turned his attention back to the booth. With the 15X magnification of his glasses, Griffin could see a lot of details even from where he was. He also took the chance of taking more pictures while there was no one blocking the view.
He noted that there was some more of that purple writing, about where logically a door handle would be. However the real question had yet to be answered. What was it and what did it do?
So far it appeared to need input or outside action to initialize things. The first was the touching of the symbols on the box which caused it to grow. Then, touching the ruby crystal which began that feed of yet more purple writing, ended by the ones which still blinked on the display.
Brian had just finally thrown his hands in the air in disgust while Steven stomped back to the box. Defiantly, 'The Perv' touched the blinking purple script. Instantly it disappeared, but then an image formed on the rectangular screen.
Griffin wasn't able to see at first, given Steven was in the way, but after The Perv excitedly ran off to try and drag Brian back, he got a chance to see what the excitement was about.
There pictured on the display was an image of 'The Perv.'
However there was something that wasn't quite right about it.
Steeling himself, Griffin made himself compare the image with the real thing.
While Steven had that buff model look, he wasn't ripped like a body builder. However, the alien machine's display showed just that, an idealized figure of 'The Perv.'
Just why became clear when he returned with Brian. As much as Griffin got bad vibes off the man, he had to admit Steven wasn't stupid. It didn't take the successful businessman and engineer long to figure out the machine.
As the door opened and 'The Perv' went inside, Griffin wanted the egotistical jerk's arrogance to backfire on him, but feared it wouldn't. When the new, improved 'Perv' walked out, some questions were answered. As always, they only created more unanswered ones, but what really bothered Griffin was who possessed this thing from the stars.
If anyone in the world would misuse something like this, it was Steven.
So intent was the teen over the scene before him, he never noticed the beginnings of wispy clouds stealthily approaching over the horizon.
Danny had spent his life confined to his 'wheels,' a wheelchair. All he had to look forward was wondering just when his body would finally give out for all that he was still a teen. However, his friend Griffin just might was going to change all of that. You see he had a plan!
Griffin
Urban Hell Acres
The next morning, Saturday or not, he had his alarm set. It wasn't as it if was hard getting up. Even with the lazy months after moving here, he was still used to getting up early from his years with his Grandparents on the farm. It was more the late night than the early hours. There were things to do.
Still his Mom was surprised when he zipped though the kitchen to grab something to eat on his way to Danny's.
“Well you're certainly up early for the weekend.” She observed, fixing breakfast for Chris who was no doubt still upstairs. Griffin's step-father regarded his Saturday golf games as just as important to his construction business and political aspirations as going into work at the office.
To Chris that meant that Mom's job was to support him in these endeavors which, in this case, meant fixing him breakfast.
Popping a waffle in the toaster, Griffin explained. “Going over to Danny's. We're researching a class project.”
“And play some video games?” She asked, with a knowing smile.
“Could be.” He replied, smiling back. It so confused him sometimes. His Mom could be so cool about some things, and he knew she loved him her own way.
But she would never go against anything that Chris wanted. Maybe that was why he disliked her at times. She'd failed to be as strong as he needed and wanted her to be. The lesson that those he looked up to, growing-up, weren't perfect and had feet of clay weren't one he enjoyed learning. However, his Mom was all he had left. No matter how flaky things might get, he loved her.
“Just remember to try and do some of that school work.” She wagged a finger at him.
Hitching his book bag higher on his shoulder, Griffin snagged a soda pop from the fridge and ran by the toaster just in time to snag his waffle as it popped up.
“Sure Mom.” He assured her, heading for the door. Running into Chris would not be a good thing. While his Step-father might be meticulously politically correct in public, Chris had referred to Danny as that 'crippled-kid' more than once.
In Chris's world there were winners and then everyone else. If he couldn't make use of you then you weren't worth his notice. Sure Griffin was big, but besides having no interest in sports, he was also clumsy probably because his body felt so wrong to him. Once his step-father realized that that Griffin would not be a sports hero, that was it as far as he was concerned. Forget that Griffin had always had much better than just good grades. That wasn't anything Chris could use to impress his business clients.
Hearing his step-father come down the stairs, Griffin slipped out the back door not a moment too soon. The teen felt the same way about Chris. Anyone who would treat people that way deserved not one minute of his attention or time. Respect, Grandpa Joe had taught him, had to be earned. Chris had done none of that.
Soon he was biking across Urban Hell Acres. The early spring morning was already more like summer than spring, given this was the south. He enjoyed the effort of pushing himself, flying down the street.
Another advantage of living in an affluent area was the bike lanes which let him concentrate on riding and not on keeping from being run over. Besides, he needed to think and the feeling of gliding, flying, helped.
The things he'd seen the night before were impossible, while others made him want to wash his eyes out with bleach. 'The Perv' and Brian had transformed themselves into a number of different forms. Some of them very disturbing. At least Brian protested and was unwilling over some of them. Even normally the florist was one of those naturally young looking guys. Like Micheal J. Fox and Matthew Brodrick, he looked barely out of his teens instead of nearly 30. The forms last night looked a lot younger than even that. Griffin might never look at Batman and Robin, or Cap and Bucky the same way ever again.
However, that alien machine, wherever it came from, offered once in a lifetime opportunities for both him and Danny. One he could not and would not pass up.
Danny
Upton Heights Acres
He'd been up for awhile. His 'burden' wouldn't let him sleep long, but that was okay with him. Not knowing if, when you went to bed, if you would wake-up again made one very happy for every waking moment. It made him want to live life to it fullest with no regrets.
Danny did his best, but it wasn't easy at times. Watching others do the run, jump and play thing, while he was stuck in his 'wheels' was tough. Still he tried to stay as active as his condition would allow which wasn't very. Despite his problems, he'd managed to convince his parents and the school system to let him attend.
Truthfully, he knew he was borderline with his special needs, but Danny was also determined to be as independent as possible. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered, with some of the harassment he got from a few of his fellow students, but the support of the majority of others balanced it out and more.
“Danny, ” His Mom called on the intercom. “Griffin is here.”
“Send him up, Mom.” He replied, with a grin.
And just sometimes it was worth it in spades.
Danny had plenty of friends online, but although he had several friendly acquaintances at school, none were really friends. They all had more active lives and, for whatever reasons, didn't or couldn't make allowances for his special needs.
That is, except for Griff.
The farm boy was everything he wasn't. Big, redheaded and covered in freckles from spending most of his time outside, Griff always made time for him. They'd only known each other for the four months since the farm boy had transferred in after the death of his grandparents, but it seemed like so much longer.
It was so funny that many of their classmates thought of the redhead as slow as his his heavily accented drawl made him seem. They complained he would drag down their grade point average when the opposite was true. He was actually petty damn smart. If either of them cared they could've been accepted by Mensa.
His friend had a near perfect memory, and it'd been funny when one of their teachers, Mrs. Reynolds, had accused him of cheating. Griff had recited from memory the paragraph and page number, the relevant facts as well as what they meant.
Danny suspected that Griff could've tested out, bypassing graduation at any time he wanted from junior high on. Then again there was that problem with his step-father. It was clear that tuition for college would not be forthcoming from him. You would think the Bastard would be glad to pay to get Griff out of the house, but that wasn't the way his mind worked. Sure his friend could probably rake in some sweet scholarships, but he would still need additional funds to live on. Griff was still only sixteen which limited his options as far as work was concerned. In short, as his friend put it, he was between a rock and a hard place, so he went to high school.
However, by the typical modern high schooler definition, being a teen meant living and breathing on social networks. The farm boy couldn't care less about any of that stuff. Being out in the boondocks with no connectivity ruled out his being familiar with texting and everything else their classmates thought of as important.
Danny had been shocked to learn that Griff had used dial-up because they didn't even have cable out on the farm. With his 'burden' making him so immobile, the internet was his lifeline to the world. Danny couldn't imagine doing without it.
Using the hoist's remote, he swung himself into his wheels. Danny suspected that one day his 'burden' would get its own name once the so-called specialists gave up trying to pin his condition into one pigeon hole or another. It was enough to know it was one of the neurological family of troubles causing his body to fail.
“Hey, what's up!” Griff entered with his phone out, causing Danny to smile.
Most times the big redhead was somber, but when he was happy he kinda glowed, infectious. Danny thought that was why Griff kept to his self so much, because that really wasn't the way guys were supposed to be.
Danny couldn't care less what was accepted and what wasn't. He wasn't sure he even had a sexuality, given the way his 'burden' had stunted his body's development. A saving grace for Griff was that he was so big, not even the Senior class jocks dared push him.
The one time three of them had tried, one had ended up on the floor in an arm-lock so fast the others were left gaping with their mouths open. When Danny asked him about it, Griff simply shrugged and said, “Gramps hadn't always been a farmer. Because I was so big, he taught me to fight the right way so I wouldn't hurt anyone.”
“So what did you do to it this time that I need to fix?” Danny asked, taking the offered smart phone.
Griff's mother was all about keeping up with the Joneses. When he'd arrived, she'd immediately gotten him this smart phone with all the bells and whistles. The farm boy had one heck of a learning curve trying to figure it out. Danny of course had been more than happy to help, if only to get his grubby paws on the latest state of the art toy.
Despite the joke, it hadn't taken Griff long to work out the mysteries of the phone. If he had any problem, it was that he simply under-utilized the smart device. With his perfect memory, he simply didn't need most of them.
“Nothing this time.” Griff's eyes danced with mischief. “But you've got to look at these pictures.”
“You know you could've just sent them to me?” Danny laughed at his friend.
“Not these pictures, I couldn't.” Griff replied, enigmatically. “And no they're not 'that' kind of picture. Okay, mostly. That stuff was entirely coincidental.”
Looking at the pictures, he first shot a glance at Griff wondering why he was taking pics of naked guys, much less these guys, but then he saw the device.
“This can't be for real.” Danny declared, handing the phone back.
“Yes, it is.” Griff argued. “You know me, and you know Steven and Brian. There's no way we could ever work together to prank you like this, and you know I'm no good at that Photoshop stuff.”
“But that would mean there really is intelligent life out there somewhere.” Danny said, feeling really slow from the mental shock.
“Well, we always knew the odds favored that outcome.” Griff was reasonable. “It was far less certain that any intelligent life was anywhere nearby, much less able to travel between stars. However,” He tapped his phone. “This proves that, somehow, they do, and they have a very high level of technology.
“This box transformed them in seconds.” The redhead continued. “High level nanotech or perhaps even matter transmutation. Additionally, Steven and Brian altered the display by just touching that crystal. It either read their minds or something so close to it the difference doesn't matter.”
“All that means,” Griff took a deep breath.
“It could heal me.” Danny continued.
“It could heal both of us.” The Farm-boy said, so low it was a whisper.
“Heal you?” Danny asked, looking up at his healthy looking friend.
“I feel like such a hypocrite since you have real serious problems.” Griff answered, hanging his head low. “But you could say I have body and quality of life issues.”
“No problem is little when it's yours.” Danny replied, sincerely. “I've learned that from all my hospital visits. Sure I'm not in a good way, but there were kids younger than me who would never see another year, much less their sixteenth like me.
“So this thing can do the job,” He changed the subject. “But what are we going to do? Roll up to the door and ask to please use their alien machine? You know what Steven is like.”
“No, that wouldn't work any too well.” Griff agreed. “He would either slam the door in our faces, or call the cops saying we were trespassing. Brian might let us in, but he would catch serious hell if his boyfriend ever found out. Besides I wouldn't put it pass 'The Perv' to have cameras hidden in the house.”
“There are security cameras outside the house.” Danny pointed out. “It's not a big leap of logic to say they're inside too. So what did you have in mind?”
“Well if we tried telling anyone about it, we would either get laughed at, or the Box would be confiscated which means we still wouldn't get a chance to use it. That leaves us with two options.”
“Steal it.” Danny answered, uncomfortably.
“That's one option,” Griff nodded. “It would be up to me to get into the place and back out with the Box, that's if I could figure out some way of 'repacking' it back to briefcase size. However, you saw some of the things Steven had transformed himself into. Would you really want Batman, Captain America or Iron-Man coming after us?”
Danny shook his head no. Even just a Batman clone would be bad. Assuming he had any part of the Dark Knight's abilities, him and Griff would be dead meat. He didn't even want to think about Captain America. Bats, for all his prowess, was still an ordinary if extremely well-trained man, but Cap was a super-soldier and just as skilled. That wasn't even counting the Iron-Man armor.
“And the other possibility?” He asked. “You've obviously been thinking about this.”
“Well, I'll still need to sneak inside.” Griff said grinning, “But we won't steal it. Instead we'll use it and get out without him ever knowing we were there. I'm not sure if it would be more practical for me to let you in so you can use the Box yourself or have me make something with it and bring it out to you.”
“Make something? Like what?” Danny asked intrigued.
“I don't know.” The would be burglar answered. “Maybe one of Dr. McCoy's magic pills, or Captain America's super soldier serum, but that's why I'm here. We do what we do best; research the hell out this thing. Find out what is available about these boxes and then come up with the best plan for using it.”
“You really think you can bring back something that will help me?” For the first time in years Danny almost dared hope.
“Yes, I do.” Griff replied enthusiastically. “He made Iron-Man's armor! It wasn't just a prop either. It flew! You and I both know that is well beyond what technology can do today. Is it certain? No,” He answered himself. “but what do we have to lose?” Griff grinned. “Besides we haven't got that far yet in the planning. We might be able to figure out a way for you to use the Box in person.”
“I don't think so.” Danny shook his head. “There are cameras at all the entrances as well as on the neighboring houses, including yours. I would be seen and I can't really wear a disguise either. I think I'll have to play Oracle to your Black Canary.”
“Hey Oracle was cool!” Griff smiled, even if it seemed a little sad for some reason.
“Well, watch and learn.” Danny bragged, as he scooted to his computer desk. “The maestro is about to begin.”
“We'll see about that.” Griff challenged, pulling his own laptop from his bag.
“Morphic Adaptation Unit?” Danny muttered a few minutes later, confused over his search results.
“Where did you find that?” Griff asked. “All I've found is over 5 million pages of conspiracy theories about UFO's and Men in Black.”
“I used the new Collective search engine.” Danny said unsure of the results. “The description triggered a search suggestion, MAU Mk V, but when I clicked on it, I got this really weird error message that wasn't a 'No matches found.' It seemed to be telling me to email the Collective.”
“Well, lets try that on Google.” Griff said, typing in the search. “Hey, that cut it down to a mere 820,000.”
“You take the odd numbered pages, and I'll take the evens?” Danny suggested as he got to the search results page. “Alright Mr. MAU Mk V, just what are you?”
An hour later they didn't have any solid answers to that question.
“What we appear to have is something right out of a bad B-rated Sci-Fi movie.” Danny summarized. “I've run across pleas for help, presumably from people who'd been transformed and can't change back. There are also warnings that kinda look official about messing with it and a 1-800 number to call.”
“That kinda jibes with what I've found.” Griff added. “It seems that, once you open the thing up, it either stops working or is stolen within two to five days at the outside, to the more common three to four days, depending on who you listen to. Government guys, Men in Black, are also often mentioned as showing up and having a strong interest in the Boxes.”
“That makes sense.” Danny reasoned. “We know these things didn't come from around here and, given what they can do, the Feds would be all over these things.”
“It also means,” Griff pointed out, being practical. “That we have our window. We have to make our attempt by no later than Sunday night.”
“Do or do not,” Danny quoted, grinning.”There is no try.”
“No such thing as a sure bet.” Griff shot back with his own smile. “That's why you try and cover every possibility that you can.”
“Okay we have some idea of what it is and of how long we have.” Danny replied, “So what's next?”
“We work out the best ways to help you.” His redheaded friend answered. “I think we might need to be as specific as we can, which means we need to thoroughly research our ideas. We're only getting one shot at this after all. Let's pick three different methods and hopefully one will do the job.”
“I'm all for that.” Danny said with feeling. “We also have to keep in mind we can't transform ourselves too radically or we'll lose our legal status as ourselves.”
“That's a good point.” Griff grinned, “But besides that the sky is the limit. Although I think Superman or Thor is pretty much out or at least greatly powered down. This isn't magic. It's a very advanced machine. Wild ideas are fine, but they have to be grounded in Science!”
“Science!” Danny echoed dramatically, with a smile. He had some ideas to check out.
By lunch they had their outline completed. Idea one was a Venom-like symbiote, but without the evil sentient part. The whole thing with all the teeth and and that gross tongue was edited out too, but its abilities to heal and take care of its host was why he'd picked it. Of course having super-powers like the extra strength wouldn't be bad either.
He and Griff had spent time working out a half-way reasonable way it could work. Whether or not it would was another matter, which was why there were other arrows for their metaphorical bow.
The Farm-boy would carry some of Danny's hair follicles containing his DNA in a ziplock baggie to help formulate a Dr. McCoy pill. This one would slowly rewrite his body's bad 'code' with a healthy one. The mechanism behind this one was viral. It would also provide some low level regeneration as part of keeping him healthy, but wouldn't be able to survive outside of his body. They read over the latest theories and research to build in fail-safes and get an idea of how it would work.
Their third and last arrow was a computerized emergency medical kit that was really a miniaturized nanotechnology hospital in a box.
“Please state the nature of the medical emergency.” He and Griff joked.
Again, they didn't want a self-aware intelligence, like the Doctor in Star Trek's Voyager, but wanted something like Jarvis from Iron-Man. 'Just A Rather Very Intelligent System'; helpful, and able to volunteer information, but still just a very smart computer. No Sky-Net, or Ultron for either of them, thank you very much.
Griff met him downstairs, as Danny took his elevator for his wheels down to the kitchen. His Mom had fixed sandwiches for them.
“So that settles most of the what we're going to ask for,” Danny said, between bites.
“I'll still need to bone up on the details to make certain I understand everything, but that's just cramming before the big test.” Griff agreed. “but you're right. We have the what. Now we have to figure out how.”
“Sure.” Danny washed down the last bit of his lunch. “Just hop the fence, dodge the dog, don't be seen by the cameras, and then convince the Alien vending machine to cough up the goods. How could that be hard?'
“That may not be as easy as it seems?” His friend replied with a sigh.
Griffin and Danny learn that plans doesn't always work out the way you want.
Griffin
“Ow” He laid still.
“Hey!” Danny asked, wheeling next to him. “Are you alright?”
“Define Alright.” Griffin groaned. “I don't think I broke anything, but my tail bone may never be the same. Who knew just jumping six feet could be so hard?”
“Well, we could always try some other way over that fence.” His friend in the chair suggested. “It is only seven feet high.”
“Only seven feet he says.” Griffin sat up. “We've been over this. I'm not the most athletic person in the world.” Wasn't that an understatement. While he did okay at the things he practiced and worked at, like Grandpa Joe's version of self-defense and bike riding, none of it came easy. It was all more of that his body not fitting right.
“I would need a ladder and something to throw over those spikes. Ornamental or not, those things would be a problem.” He went back over all the reasons why to go high. “Then we run right back into the trouble with the cameras. You would look a little suspicious dragging that stuff behind you on your wheels, and we can't do it from my yard since that would point straight back to us. That would be bad.”
“Like falling from three stories up isn't?” Danny asked, dryly serious. “Trust me. You don't want to fall and break your back. Living on a set of wheels isn't all it's cracked up to be.”
“I believe you.” The big redhead struggled to his feet. “Jumping is one thing, but trying to do a standing broad jump while perched on an edge is not that easy.” He was thankful that his friend Danny suggested they tried a dry run through part of the Plan. The edge of the picnic table was only three feet off the ground, but showed just how difficult jumping from roof to roof would be.
“And we haven't added in the mask and gloves you'll need tonight.” Danny added, thoughtfully. “You know, it might just be technique you're missing.”
“Probably,” Griffin agreed. “I'm really not built for running or jumping.”
“Then I might have a solution.” Danny grinned. “We can look up the proper method and form online. I hope you're up to more practicing.”
“Just wonderful.” He grunted, carefully stretching.
“You know we may have another problem too.” Danny held out his tablet so he could see.
“UFO spotted over residential community!” The Tweet read.
“Yeah, Iron-Man.” Griffin grimaced. “He didn't do that much flying around, but I guess he did enough.”
“That might bring the MIB's around pretty fast.” Danny said. “And others too. There are any number of people who could be interested. Anyone who got stuck in a form they don't like, as well as any number of corporations. That Box made Iron-Man armor. I'm surprised Lockheed, Sukhoi, and every other hi-tech company aren't beating his door down.”
“That's because they don't know … yet.” Griffin held his head as if in pain. “I think we're going to have to try for tonight. If they do their usual routine, Steven and Brian will go clubbing and won't get back till late. Assuming the MIBs find out about this today, they could be here tomorrow or even later today.”
“Griff, it is the weekend.” Danny argued against that timetable. “Most the news feeds are on reduced staff and only report major stuff. Do you really think a few UFO sightings are going to get anyone's attention?”
“We have to assume the worst. If we don’t want to lose our chance, we have to be ready.” Determination to do this overcame his aches. Griffin took a deep breath. “Show me how to jump.”
“Sure.” his friend grinned having found the right web link. “Let's do this, but cool out. It's only the government. It's not as if the Storm-Troopers or something were on their way to break down our door.”
location withheld
Beth smiled at Sean as she came into his workshop. Looking up from the project he was working on, Sean knew he was in trouble. She always had this certain way of walking when she wanted something from him.
Smiling back, he knew that was because she usually got it. “What's up, Dear?”
“I got a request from Danni by way of Emmy.” She waved a memo sticky sheet. “Someone has been inquiring online about MAU's. Usually they send a member of the Collective out to take a look, but this one raised some flags. There were not one, but three inquiries in the same area.”
He and some of the other Troopers with actual combat experience were investigating how to downplay some of the more cinematic elements of Storm-Trooper armor. After all in the movies, the damn stuff never seem to provide very much protection, even from Ewoks for Gawd's sake. However, if the 501st was really going into harm's way it had to be better.
On the other hand, nobody wanted a Waco, Texas incident with their Legion Garrison as the stars on the evening news. But, more and more they'd taken a greater role of following the Collective's lead in keeping MAU incidents from becoming big problems, usually by just being helpful.
It was amazing how a Force sensitive and few Clones or Storm-Troopers could make problems go away. On more than one occasion they had aided the MIB's from the shadows. For the most part the guys in Black motives didn't appear sinister and they did help those altered by the alien devices get on with their lives.
However, it was also clear that they would do just about anything to get their hands on an active MAU. Sean's trust of the government went just so far. The Collective was pretty sure that all they had was a warehouse full of deactivated units like something out of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark,' but he was also aware that Danni hadn't told them everything either.
“Let me guess,” He answered, “We're close by?”
“You got it.” His wife smiled. “It's just on the other side of the bay.”
“Same area where those UFOs were seen last night?” Sean asked, standing. He was getting one of those feelings.
“I wouldn't be surprised.” Beth nodded.
“I must be becoming psychic.” He sighed, using the Force to trigger the hidden compartment where they kept the 'good' stuff. Most of their equipment was hidden in plain sight, mixed in with their 501st cos-play gear. However the power cells and removable critical components were kept separate, just like locking up your guns and ammo in different safes. It paid to be careful.
She reached in and removed a pair of ElG-3A blaster pistols, along with their light sabers.
Sean nodded, agreeing with her choices. The pistols were fairly concealable and, more importantly, didn't look like firearms. From 'The Phantom Menace' they looked like Sci-Fi fantasy movie props which was a good thing if they ran into trouble with the authorities. However, if there was something to those UFO reports, then having the stun capable weapons would be comforting.
As for the light sabers, what was a Jedi without one?
It was too bad there wasn't a Convention anywhere nearby this weekend, but they could always claim they going to a friend's house to practice for an event. Besides everyone knew about Star Wars.
It was too bad it was the merry month of May and far too warm for their long coats, but they'd learned how to make do. With any luck they would find it was just another false alarm and head home after taking a nice drive across the bay. However the UFO reports were ominous. Usually, people got themselves in trouble by letting their imaginations run wild with a machine that could make just about anything come true. That is until the damn thing stopped working. Unfortunately, sometimes the MAUs fell into the hands of those who saw … other possibilities.
Well, that was why the weaponry, just in case.
“Okay, good” He told Griff over his phone. “You got the last one installed. I've got clear views of the entire backyard and the house. It's a good thing cameras are so cheap now.”
“What are you talking about?” The Farm-boy snorted. “We didn't buy anything. They weren't being used and were gathering dust in your closet. Still you had a good idea about them being a lot better than that web cam I jury-rigged last night. It is too bad we had to wait till nightfall till I could get out on the roof to put them up.”
“Hey! At least I had them. My spy gear phase drove my parents and sister nuts while it lasted. They should be thankful that I didn't have one that could fly. ” Danny joked. “And look at it this way. It gave you time to get that jumping thing down. You now have a 70% chance of not falling off your neighbor’s roof. Besides, we can use the time to review that web cam footage you recorded while we wait.”
“That's not a bad idea.” Griffin agreed. “I can see that someone has been busy in their backyard. Probably Brian, since he does all the gardening stuff.”
“Besides, it'll make the time pass faster if it looks like we're doing our usual online gaming thing.” Danny added reasonably. “The more we make it seem we're not up to anything the less that you-know-who would even look twice at us.”
“You've got that part right.” Griff replied over the Blue-Tooth headset. “In and out just like a ghost.”
“And failing that.” Danny added, “Confuse the hell out of him as to who did the deed.”
“You got it right again.” Griff's voice said with feeling. “Even with the tweaks we've planned for ourselves I don't want to face whoever he's turned himself into at the time.”
“I just want to be able to do the things everyone else takes for granted.” Danny sighed into his headset. “Yeah, maybe I did overdo those 'tweaks' you were just talking about, but nothing like you showed me he did; Batman, Iron-Man and I think I remember seeing the Terminator too.”
“Yeah, I saw those too.” Griff replied. “Okay, I'm back inside now. You can really mess yourself up with that thing, but I can't say I wouldn't be tempted to try some crazy things with it if I had the chance.”
“Speak for yourself.” Danny said, forcefully. “I've seen those search results remember? If even half of that stuff was real, some of those people messed themselves up but good.”
“I'm not going to argue that.” Griff agreed. “Perhaps its a good thing that we only have one shot at this. Nothing wasted, we've done our best to make it all count.”
“Okay,” Danny announced. “I've got that footage loaded. Here it comes.” He said clicking his mouse.”
Separated, they still watched it together.
“And lets speed this up some.” Danny added after a moment of watching a very boring backyard. “Yell if you see something interesting.”
The static scene jumped as a person appeared with the jerky movements of being in fast forward.
“Hey!” Danny exclaimed. “Who's the girl?”
He stopped and put it on slow reverse.
The feminine figure walked backwards to the machine to where she got 'out,' but it revealed a man getting in.
“Whoa.” Danny stopped the recording again, staring. He'd known the MAU could make radical changes, but he never expected that.
“You know.” Griff said after a moment. “I think that's Brian, but I never thought he was Tee.”
“Tee?” Asked Danny placing the footage back on forward. “She looks a lot like Daisy Duke to me, Catherine Bach and not Jessica Simpson.”
“Yes she does.” Griff agreed. “Hmmm, Tee stands for transgender. I knew he was gay, but Daisy could be just him being curious.”
“Not to be ignorant,” Danny inquired politely, sensing this might a sensitive subject given how much his friend seemed to know about this. He opened up another search window as he spoke. “But isn't it pretty much the same thing?”
“Not really.” Griff replied. “Gay guys are guys who like other guys. Some might be a bit effeminate, but they are still happy with being male. Transgender is really sort of a misnomer. Some prefer the term gender variant, which means they have a mixture of the masculine and the feminine about them. It's like that Yin and Yang philosophy thing with everyone having a bit of each. Tee is sorta kinda like having too much of that of the opposite gender. For some, just wearing the clothes sometimes is enough, however for others they need more.
“And to confuse things.” The Farm-boy continued, “Sexual orientation, who they like, doesn't have to match their perceived gender. Think of Eddie Izzard and what he used to say. 'I'm a lesbian trapped in a man's body.'”
“Sounds complicated.” Danny remarked, watching the woman in the Daisy Duke shorts set up an event tent over the alien machine. Maybe his body couldn't do much about his desire, but she sure did rock that outfit.
Even distracted, he didn't miss how she efficiently set up that pop-up tent. He'd watched his Dad and Uncles struggle at putting up one of those things. However, she did it all by herself and made it appear easy. Then again, being a florist frequently working outdoor events, she'd probably counted as a professional.
Noticing that Griff had gone silent, Danny asked. “So how did you meet Brian anyways? Most the kids in the neighborhood give 'The Perv' a wide berth and only know Brian as his boyfriend.”
“Well.” The redhead laughed. “It was one of those 'conspiracies of circumstances' things. When I visited here during the holidays, we kinda ran into each other. I was wearing my Flash Tee-shirt with the lightning bolt in the red circle symbol, and he had on a DC comics Captain Marvel Big Red Cheese tee, also with a bolt. I think one of us said something about lightning striking twice for an ice breaker, and we discovered both of us were SF and comics fans.”
“So what happened?” Danny inquired. “You two seem to keep your distance now. Was it Steven?”
“No, but I guess maybe yes, in a way.” Griff said cryptically. “It was more of that comedy of errors thing. He thought I was older because of my appearance, and I thought he was younger. I guess we both thought we were about the same age instead of there being a considerable difference. With his being gay and the knee-jerk reaction people have, he thought it a bad idea to become too friendly with a high school student.”
“Yeah,” Danny replied. “I can see that, especially with 'The Perv' involved. I know Steven has never been caught doing anything, but the way he looks at some of the kids sometimes is really freaky.” Just as bad, none of the adults ever seemed to see it.
However, Steven never put himself in a situation in which he was around kids. Maybe just looking wasn't a crime, but Brian did look really young, even if he wasn't. Danny did get how the younger man didn't want to be guilty by association.
“It sucked at the time because I that was before I meet you.” His friend paused. “That was a bad time for me, just after moving here. I really needed friends, but I got the why of it like you said.”
“Yeah.” Danny said simply. Griff's mother was a looker, but compared to his own Mom, she didn't have much of a motherly instinct thing going on. His friend had been really broken up about losing his grandparents. If you needed someone to organize a bake sale for a charity, go to Griff's mom. However, if you needed motherly compassion, not so much.
If anything, Danny had the opposite problem with his Mom being too motherly, but knowing the state of his health he'd always taken pains not to leave how he felt unsaid. He loved his parents fiercely and wasn't shy about letting them know it. That's not to say he didn't have his bad days when he was a serious pain to anyone nearby, but he tried to have more good days than bad.
“Wow, look at her go.” Griff exclaimed, as they saw the transformed woman erase all signs that anything had landed in the perfectly maintained yard.
By the time/date stamp, before Danny and Griff had even had lunch, nobody could see anything unusual about Steven's backyard, much less that Iron-Man had flown from back there.
However, they both observed that, before the aforementioned Steven had returned from his golf game, Brian had returned to his usual male self, outwardly at least. Who knew if he had tweaked himself like they were planning.
The recording showed the two men played with the MAU some more, although Iron-man did not make another appearance. Nothing else, unfortunately, was off limits or sacred as the men 'explored' the limits of the MAU.
“Please tell me, we just didn't see that?” Danny begged Griff.
“I'll be right back.” The Farm-boy joked. “I've got to get the eye and brain bleach.”
“Save some for me!” The teen in the wheels said with all seriousness. “How could he let Steven talk him into looking that young? I mean the Terminator and John Conner from the second movie really? That's just wrong!”
“I'm hardly the expert on interpersonal relationships.” The redhead reminded his friend. “But when you care about someone else you give a part of yourself to them. I just hope that when it happens to me that they treat it with more respect than he did.”
“So this is what they did this afternoon?” Danny shook his head. He'd thought himself worldly because of all the diving he did in the darker parts of the internet. He was learning that he was a sheep in the woods full of big bad wolves, of which one lived right next door to his friend.
“Well, you have access to the live feed just like I do,” Griff replied, “But I understand why you don't want to look. Right now, it appears that they took a break for dinner. Please Lord, let them go out!”
“I'll second that.” Danny joined him. “Amen!”
That did not happen.
Instead the two went back to playing with the alien box, and perhaps because it was now night, Iron Man did make an appearance; worse, so did War-Machine. At least the cameras that Griff had placed had enough of an angle to see most of the action.
In this case, Steven was War-Machine, but they noticed that Brian had some trouble getting Iron-Man to work. Although it looked authentic, it was non-functional. A fact that Steven rubbed the younger man's face in. The two teens watched as Steven had to help Brian get the Iron-Man armor right.
“Now that was interesting.” Danny stated.
“Wasn't it though.” Griff agreed. “I think Steven, for all that he really is a Perv, also has a degree in robotic engineering. Perhaps he mostly does business stuff these days, but he has the knowledge.”
“And what is Brian's degree in again?” Danny already knew, but really he just wanted it confirmed.
“That would be in biology and genetics.” The farm boy replied. “It seems that you do need to know something about what you're requesting from that thing.”
“It's a good thing you did that cramming earlier.” Danny said. “I hope its enough.”
“Me too!” Griff said back. “I hope they don't...”
“No, there they go.” He said, as the two armored men took off into the night sky.
“So much for they going clubbing tonight.” Danny sighed. “This is going to bring those MIB's like rats to cheese.”
“And I don't dare try to do it now, because with them in those suits, their sensors could very well spot me even though we can't see them.” Griff said, aggravated at the delay
“We just have to wait.” Danny said, advising patience.
“I know. “ Griff replied. “But it's hard knowing we're so close. However, I do hope Brian doesn’t get shot down by the Air Force or anything.”
“I'm more worried about the Air Force.” Danny replied. “Steven isn't Tony Stark. If he gets shot at, he might shoot back.”
“Should've figured he would pick War-Machine because of the big gun.” The redhead said, disgusted.
“Well,” Danny said soothingly. “Maybe they won't be out long, and then they'll go out.”
“I wouldn't count on it.” Griff sighed heavily. “I mean if you could fly would you come down before you had to?”
“Not until the Air Force shows up and makes me.” Danny said, conceding his friend's point.
“When the stars shine bright through the engine's trail.” Griff sang softly.
“You can't take the sky from me.” Danny sang back skipping a few stanzas. He didn't have his friend's memory, but he did recall those words from the 'Firefly' theme song.
“Amen, my friend.” Griff replied. “Brown-Coats forever.”
“It always seems the best shows never stay on for long.” Danny observed. “But I guess Joss got his revenge with Avengers.”
“Yeah.” The Farm-boy agreed. “There's nothing like making great big pots of money to make your point, and he was able to make 'Serenity' after all.”
“You up for some gaming?” Danny asked, changing the subject. “That is what we're supposed to be doing, and it'll pass the time.” He clicked his gaming icon, pulling up his Tank character.
“Might as well.” The redhead accepted his suggestion. “I'll bring my Spell-caster. I feel like setting some fires and blowing up a few things.”
“Let's see if we can find something easy so that we won't need a Healer.” Danny said, getting into the spirit of things.
Although they kept an eye on the real prize, that tent covered alien machine, hours passed before War-Machine and Iron-Man made their return.
“There they are.” Griff said, alerted by the sounds of repulsors landing in the neighbor's backyard though his open window.
“I can hear them though your headphones.” Danny announced, tiredly. His endurance was never very good, even though he was accustomed to late night gaming on the weekends.
“But it's too late, now.” The Farm-boy sighed. “They won't go out.”
On the cameras the two watched just that. The armored guys went inside.
“We will have to try for tomorrow.” Danny said, logging off their game. “Maybe they will go out then.”
“I hope so.” Griff prayed. “You did see they went inside with their 'suits?' I don't think I can dare even try and sneak in later after they're asleep. Not with those suits in the house. They could have some sort of sentry function.”
“Like I said.” Danny replied, evenly. “Just be patient. Tomorrow, Okay?”
“Yeah,” Griff unwillingly agreed. “Tomorrow. Good night, Danny.”
“Goodnight Griff.” He replied setting his virus scanners going.
Looking out of the window, Danny looked up at the stars peeking through breaks in the fog and clouds. “Please.” He asked in prayer. Then, using the hoist remote, he got himself into bed. Sleep overtook him as, for the first time in so very long, he entered his dreams with hope.
Recon detachment
Vicinity of Upton Heights
“I think we're going to need bigger guns.” Sean said, watching the two armored suits descend for a landing within the upper class gated community.
The advanced, binocular-like imagers gave a clear picture of the Iron-man armor suits despite it being two o’clock in the early foggy morning.
“You know they could be peaceful comic book fans, right?” His wife asked, watching them with her own device.
“If half of what we overheard about War-Machine's playing chicken with those jets are true, there are some fly boys that are going to be busy washing out their flight suits.” Sean gave her his opinion, tapping the data pad that'd let them listen in on the Air Force's secure communications. “At least he didn't fire on them, but it's pretty damn clear that suit is fully operational. There's no way the MIB's will be able to deal with those.
“However,” He admitted. “I am willing to give the Iron-Man some slack. He turned and ran like any sensible person under the circumstances.”
“You're right about that.” Beth pointed out. “War-Machine did appear aggressive. I don't know if we can deal with him. We might have to bring in Danni and her friends in on this one.”
“I agree.” Sean was pulling out his com-link. “At the very least we'll need special support from the Garrison HQ. We will try it the easy way first and hope it's just a pair of fans that got carried away. If not...”
She nodded her understanding. Neither had to say it. Both of them had been running all over the bay looking for signs and clues. Something had pushed them to stay longer when common sense said it was time to go home.
Beth could see it in her husband's eyes even as she felt it herself. They were both getting used to this Jedi stuff, but some things were unmistakable. For a Jedi having a 'bad' feeling usually meant trouble. Disturbances in the Force were always problems that rarely turned out well.
“Yeah,” Agent G answered his phone, still half asleep.
“This is a Code Critical.” The dispassionate voice on the other end announced.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Agent G
Residential dwelling of Agency employee
“Yeah,” Agent G answered his phone, still half asleep.
“This is a Code Critical.” The dispassionate voice on the other end announced.
“Agent M will meet you at the plane which is being prepped.” Without another word the line was disconnected.
Those words ran ice water into his veins. Someone using a MAU had created a clear and present danger to the public and the United States.
Five minutes later, he was half-dressed and dragging his pre-packed bags out the door behind him. This was one of few times he was glad he lived alone. He had no wife, children, or a lover that needed explanations or amends. Thankfully with all the traveling the job required, he kept a set of everything he needed ready to go, a holdover from his military days.
Twenty minutes of driving like a madman had him through the checkpoint and at the plane. He had the pleasure of seeing M just as disheveled as himself. She was a far cry from her usual professional perfection. Her dark brunette hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was without makeup.
Unfortunately, she had also beat him to the plane. It wasn't that he hadn't expected it given the way she drove. It was that just once he wanted to get here first even if he wasn't surprised.
However, it was all of why their partnership worked so well. He had the military angle covered while she held the civilian point of view. G was comfortable with weapons, and she drove like everyday was the Indy 500. He was intimidating, but she was everyone's confidant. The reasons why they were so effective together just went on and on.
The plane started rolling even as the airman closed the hatch. Seating themselves, he saw M had a red ribbon sealed Top Secret folder under her arm.
G grunted. The courier from the office had probably met her as soon as she arrived. It was truly a pain in the keister that the Agency kept no computer records. It made for a perfect storm of too much information and not having enough eyes to look at it which was compounded by not being able to sort the data by computer.
For about the hundredth time, he cursed Wiki-leaks and all other hackers. In their drive to expose the government's dirty laundry, they were instead putting everyone at risk. If they truly knew, they would be hiding under their beds or worse, even more of a problem.
They barely got their safety belts fastened before the plane leaped into the night sky.
As far as he knew there had never been a Code Critical before. Lesser emergencies came and went, but not this one. At least no one had ever admitted it to him. The Agency was so security crazy the left hand had no idea there even was a right hand, much less what it was doing. They took paranoia to a new level.
However, despite the wacky rules they did do some good. Helping people with the bizarre changes they inflicted on themselves was a challenge and a half. G could see where people could get into trouble. Here they have the power of the gods dropped into their laps, but only for four days and nobody bothered giving them the owner's manual. It was the crash back to Earth that was hard.
The radical changes the Boxes could bestow were unbelievable. Most people simply played with the MAU's and didn't deliberately design a body that was as close to a superman as they could. That was why one of the special fears of the Agency was someone using it for power and personal gain. The Typhoid Mary case had been bad enough, which was why he was almost afraid to see what was in M's folder.
Pulling the privacy curtain, the Air Force sergeant knew the drill. Classified materials were treated seriously. However, he wondered what caused the muted strangled, “What!”
Shrugging, he got to his seat. Reaching into his flight bag he pulled out the latest issue of The Avengers. Sometimes it was better not to know. Besides it was going to be long flight and he'd been looking forward to this issue for a very long time.
Griffin
Urban Hell Acres
Sleepily he answered the phone.
“Wake up!” Danny excitedly demanded. “They just left in Steven's Jag XK. It's still early enough most everyone is still asleep except for the Sunday schoolers who have already left. You have an hour before anyone else really starts moving around. Now move it!”
Adrenaline poured though him. It was time. Even as stiff and sore as he was from yesterdays jumping practice couldn't dampen his excitement. Using care, he stretched working out the muscle kinks.
“I'm up.” He said, putting on his Blue-Tooth headset and getting dressed. Instead of the black clothes he'd planned on wearing last night, Griffin decided on dark gray sweats. He knew from all the hunting with Grandpa Joe that should stand out less and blend in better than the black.
A long minute of listening at the door, assured him that Chris and his Mom was still abed. Putting on his ski styled hunting mask and his gloves, he crossed the room to the window. It soundlessly rose thanks to him using it so often to sneak onto the roof. Soon he was outside, keeping low to prevent the early risers from seeing him as he reached the edge.
Griffin looked at the six feet separating his step-father's house from their neighbor, 'The Perv.' From his practice yesterday he knew he could clear almost a foot more than that. Hell, he could almost step across it.
However, right now, it looked as wide as the Grand Canyon.
“Okay Oracle.” He breathed out heavily. “I'm at the edge.”
It was do or die time. All of his and his friend's dreams were on the other side of that divide.
“Good.” Danny's voice replied over the headset. “Just remember what you practiced yesterday and you'll be fine. However, be sure to give me an update after you jump, just in case.”
“I'm overwhelmed by your confidence and compassion.” Griffin muttered as he couched low, swinging his arms preparing to leap.
A second later he was flying across the void.
As soon as his feet touched, he leaned forward to compensate for the roof's slope. That was a little too much as he fell forward. His feet slipping out from under him, Griffin slid feet first towards the edge.
Panic had his hands grabbing wildly for purchase on the roofing tiles. Relief flooded him as the gripper pads on his biking gloves stopped his movement.
“Griff!” Danny insistently asked, “Are you alright? Speak to me!”
“I'm fine.” Griffin sighed. “It wasn't a good landing, but I'm on the roof.”
“Well,” His friend reported. “The coast is still clear, but the clock is ticking.”
“I hear you.” He replied, standing up. “I'm moving now.”
It took him a little longer than he liked, but he was still shaky from his near fall. Getting to the tree that was his way down, Griffin grinned under his mask. Maybe he wasn't much of a jumper, but he was a champion tree climber. He was down on the ground in nothing flat.
The barking of a dog signaled the next challenge.
“Hey Puddles!” The Dalmatian Brian had gotten from the rescue shelter was a little confused when she tried to lick his face, but ran into trouble from the mask. Slipping her a doggie treat, Griffin smiled as she happily ran off to enjoy her bribe.
“Nice trick with the dog.” Danny congratulated.
“Yeah.” Griffin said, “But it could come around to bite us. There's only a handful of people that Puddles reacts well to, and I'm one of them. However, there is just so far I'm willing to go in this deception. I won't abuse an animal much less poor Puddles. She was treated bad enough by her previous owner, a real ass.”
“Just remember that when the Terminator comes gunning for you and there's no Kyle Reese to bail you out.” Danny half-joked.
“Who needs a time-traveling soldier when I got the Oracle backing me up?” He rejoined.
Griffin breathed relieved. The MAU was still there and appeared to still be active. Reaching into his bag he placed the makeshift cut up garbage bag privacy screen up to prevent anyone from doing what he did and seeing the display screen and his real face while he used the Box. Next he got out his cheat sheet, listing in order everything he and Danny had thought of to request.
From the bones out he reminded himself. Placing his hand on the red crystal, his image appeared. The first change was a biggie. Himself into a metamorph. Griffin had read a story about a plausible biological basis for a human shape-shifter. Shapers were what the book called them. They had an organ that released a hormone mixture that signaled parts of the body to return to a primal, stem cell state. Usually, it was adaptive like rapid changes to the environment such as tanning to prevent sunburn or growing tougher skin to resist scratches, but the Shapers in the book learned how to use it for a lot of other things. He, however, needed more control of the talent and for it to be more natural because he just might not have time to deal with a learning curve.
It was still a good thing that they could also accelerate their ability to learn, as well as changing their appearance. Slow changes were better, particularly when bone was involved, because transforming that hurt, even when you took it nice and easy. Soft tissue was much easier, but rapid changes there could be painful too. Additionally, they could heal very quickly. Maybe not as fast as Wolverine from the comic books, but fast. To put the icing on the cake it was suggested they could be very long lived as well as healthy, given the Shaper organ reset the cell's telomere chain, which was thought to be a part of aging.
However, the best part was they were still human and only a MRI or perhaps a X-ray could tell they were different. The machine seemingly paused for a pair of breaths, as the image adjusted itself. If they were right about how this thing worked, that was a good thing.
His face mostly looked the same, but his body was much more slender and androgynous. Griffin actually looked sixteen, not twenty.
Next came his clothes. He stole parts of Danny's Symbiont idea and embellished it based on yet another story he'd read. Normally it appeared to be just underwear, however it could also alter itself into any kind of clothing and accessories, like wigs and such, since Shapers couldn’t spontaneously grow hair. Additionally, it provided protection like the very best bulletproof armor, as well as the environment and was even able to function as a spacesuit for a short time-period. But of course he also made certain it could enhance his physical characteristics such as strength and speed plus some nifty tricks like Spider Man's wall-crawling thing.
Griffin adjusted the clothes in the display to disguise his new slimness, as well as replacing the ski mask. Outwardly, he would still look exactly the same as before he entered the booth.
The image didn't even flicker this time. Next came the headset and glasses combo. These would change form too, going from normal looking glasses to a hi-tech visor that put Cat-Woman's from the movie to shame, letting him see across the spectrum as well as function like a Heads-Up-Display for tactical purposes. Functioning as the primary interface between the other gadgets he was designing, they were the visual display, camera, headset, and could even read his brainwaves and sub-vocalizations to help determine his desires. That, in theory, would let the user direct and make selections without having to talk or making any visible gestures.
Then came his phone which he greatly upgraded. In all practical aspects it would become a Next Generation Star Trek tricorder, but with even more extras, although it still looked like his old phone. He added a few hundred magnitudes of more number crunching power with a Quantum computer along with a JARVIS, 'Just A Rather Very Intelligent System,' as an assistant and helper. It also had some of the functions of the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver, like an universal translator and other nifty stuff. Carefully he made certain that it could interface with everything else, like his glasses and the other components to come.
Next was the other half of the Sonic Screwdriver, the tool component, but without the sonic stuff. He preferred his tools to be noiseless. Looking like a fountain, or slightly oversized, pen, he called it a Servo like out of many rip-offs of the Doctor's famous instrument. This one was an all purpose tool too, as it projected a small tractor beam that could work as any conceivable tool from a hammer, to a ratchet wench and everything in-between. It could even weld. Just to push the envelope, it could form the most basic of all man's useful implements, a knife or in this case a force-blade. The science-fiction device used that tractor beam of force, but turned it on its side, so to speak, making a cutting surface that put plasma cutters and the like to shame. To make it perfect, Griffin made certain the blade would be visible for safety purposes or change in spectrum where only he could see it with his visor.
Of course he couldn't forget to add a flashlight to it too!
Checking his list, Griffin visualized the next gadget, also from a SF story. The Universal Survival Kit. In reality it was a miniaturized nanotechnology factory. As part of an alien pilot's emergency supplies, it would let them live darn near anywhere. From a vacuum safe shelter, to a one or two man transportation, it was the last word in versatility. In a pinch, it could repair or recreate all his other gadgets, as well as serve as the power recharge unit for them all.
That part was like a Mr. Fusion from the 'Back to the Future' movie, needing only some form of liquid with hydrogen in it to produce a enough energy to power a small town or a Flux Capacitor. Additionally, since the whole unit was very dense and compact, it was able to expand to quickly form shapes, as well as make things from local materials, it was quite heavy. To solve that, inside was a pair of anti-gravity generators to make the unit easy to tote and provide the 'engines' for the vehicles it could form. Yes, you'll believe a teen can fly!
Also like everything else, it could change its appearance to blend in and fit into his daily life without anyone noticing.
The alien machine actually had to work at that one, the longest yet, taking about five seconds, but it seemed to work, showing a backpack appearing on his image.
Next came Danny's Dr. McCoy pill. Concentrating on the zip-lock baggie, and its DNA, he was happy to see a pill bottle with a tablet inside appear on the display. His friend’s symbiont came after that. Again with care he went over each and every feature, as well as how it should work.
The last item was sorta like the survival kit, but instead was a nanotech mini-hospital. Griffin couldn't keep himself, from adding some additional functions. Being organic oriented it could do everything from repairing any kind of injury, to providing food and breathable air. Of course it had the JARVIS-like Doctor for the interface with its patients. Just for the heck of it, the unit could plug into the survival kit which could make a set of powered exoskeleton which, in kind, connected to the symbionts and the other gadgets he'd envisioned.
“Hey!” Danny interrupted his train of thought. “How are you doing? It's getting close to 45 minutes. The going-to-church people are going to be out and about soon.”
“Coming along fine.” Griffin reassured his friend. “Just give me a few more moments to fine tune this, and run a double check. Don't worry we're doing just great.”
“Aren't we girl?” He rubbed Puddles' ears as she sat next to him, watching what he was doing.
Danny reminded him of something else he had to make dead certain of. None of the methods they had of healing his friend could conflict with each other.. Although any of the three could do the job alone, if any of them worked, they would seamlessly complement each other.
Then he smiled as his image gained another backpack while he created another set of his gadgets for his friend.
“Okay. It's crunch time.” Griffin announced as he pressed the purple crystal that opened the door.
“Fingers crossed at this end.” Danny nervously acknowledged.
“Me too.” Griffin stepped inside. “There are two more crystals inside. Another purple one is on the wall and a larger amber one, which is about a foot across, is on the ceiling. I'm guessing that the purple one shuts the door and starts everything. Probably going to lose the connection so don't freak alright?”
“Yeah.” Danny's voice wavered, “Lose contract, don't freak. It's still clear out, but some people are starting to move about. I've seen one car leave so far, so there will be more soon.”
“Engaging.” Griffin pressed the crystal.
The door vanished as the yellow crystal turned red bathing him in its intense light. Once again it didn't look right, as if he could only see part of the real colors.
Just as unexpectedly, the red color was gone and the door had returned.
Checking his back, he smiled seeing that both backpacks were there and attached together by their snaps and loops. His smile got broader as he saw they were dead matches for their existing packs.
“I'm finished.” Griffin let his joy show. “I think it worked, but now I'm headed out.”
“Good!” Danny rejoiced. “Still no sign of the Dynamic Duo, but people are moving. Your neighbor across from you, is walking to his mailbox for the morning paper.”
Griffin took down and packed his privacy screen away while carefully looking for signs that could reveal he'd been there. Then he walked to the back of the yard where Brian had the thickest of his roses and other bushes. Once mostly out of sight in the foliage, he used his visor.
“JARVIS, I need an reactive camouflage poncho.” He asked, not knowing what would happen.
“Yes sir.” His computerized assistant acknowledged, forming the distorting material.
Despite wanting to, he kept from jumping up and down in excitement as his smart clothes did as he asked. After giving Puddles a friendly good bye pat as she sniffed him to see what he was doing in the rose bushes, it was time to go. Placing a hand on the top of the seven foot fence, he vaulted it as lightly as if it was a third of that height.
Using that as his strategy, he hopped the other fences separating the tightly spaced houses, hoping to confuse anyone trying to track him as he went back and forth, working his way back to his house. Being able to boost himself as needed was a blast and a half. Before, he'd always felt like a lumbering elephant, but not now. Getting back to his room was a little more difficult, but he made it just in time.
A knocking at the door, had him hurriedly sliding the packs under his bed.
“JARVIS,” He sub-vocalized. “Activate jammie mode.” Quickly, he slipped his visor off as they changed into the likeness of a pair of sunglasses.
“Mommmm!” He complained jumping into bed just in time, as the door opened. “I'm up. I'm up”
“Up all night gaming?” She accused gently, but he could hear her humor. Dressed for church, she looked as high society as Chris could desire in his bid to appear perfect because of his political ambitions.
“It wasn't that late.” Griffin defended himself. “Danny and I had a life or death mission we had to complete. It had a time limit and we only got one chance at it.”
“Did you get any of that studying done?” She asked, crossing her arms skeptically.
“Yes,” He said honestly. It was the truth because in his cramming session he'd reviewed several subjects that he didn't know that much about. Danny should be a doctor with all the knowledge he'd absorbed, not only about his 'burden' as he called it, but the medical field in general.
“That was the reason I was up late.” He bent the truth more than a little. “We got a late start on the gaming because of the studying.”
She gave him an unfathomable expression. “You're not Little Griffin any more are you?”
“No Mom, I'm not.” Again he answered her truthfully. “But I'll always love you.” He hugged her.
“We'll come up with some way for you go to college.” She said, softly. “I know Chris is being unreasonable, but you're too smart not to have your chance to shine.”
“It's alright, Mom, really.” Griffin replied just as quietly. He understood that this was for just his and her ears. “Once I can work full time, that and the scholarships should take care of everything.”
“It's not alright.” She replied, with a sad sigh. “I should be stronger.”
“Things are what they are.” He held his Mom. “I'll survive and so will you.”
“Chris isn’t that bad.” She defended her husband.
“Like I said, Mom.” Griffin told her again. “It's alright. It's only two years and besides, I have a chance to take classes that I would've missed other wise.”
He had a very reliable feeling that Chris had wrapped up his Mom in the prenuptial agreement from hell. In all reality she really was trapped, but she had also chosen this life.
“Such as?” She asked, as if not believing him.
“Well,” Griffin smiled, “French, to go along with the Spanish from my old school and the Latin Grandpa Joe taught me. I'm looking forward to reading the untranslated works of Andre' Dumas this summer.”
Okay he was fibbing a little. It was Grandma May who had taught him French. She'd been a translator and linguist with the State Department in Vietnam. That was where she'd met Grandpa Joe. He still found the French class useful, since it helped refine his skill.
She pulled away, returning his smile, “My son, the scholar. Your Father would've been so proud of you. “
“Grandpa Joe,” Griffin blushed slightly. “Used to say the same thing.”
“You look so much like him, but you're not him.” His Mom's eyes were far away lost in memories. “He never could sit still, your Father. In a lot of ways you're more like your Grandfather; always, so curious about any and every thing.”
“Grandpa Joe, “ Griffin said, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes. “Always said he was a real Renaissance Man, but Grandma May would just smack him and say Old Fool.”
“That too,” She said, hugging him. “You miss them don't you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted a tear tickling down his cheek. “But it was their time to go. Grandpa Joe would've hated being bed ridden, and Grandma May just couldn't live without him. Like you, she told me she just wasn't strong enough for me, but I knew her heart was telling her to go.”
“That's how I felt when your Father died.” His Mom began her own tears. “I felt as if all my anchors were cut and I was adrift in a storm. I can see now that my marrying Chris wasn't the best thing for you.” She sadly explained, “But he gave me something I could hold onto. While we were dating, he never seemed to object to you, but after we were married everything changed. I should've known better.”
He simply held her. Going over old family dirty laundry never helped anyone or anything. Griffin had told her he didn't like her new boyfriend and had objected to the marriage, as had his Grandparents. They could tell there was something not right about the man.
She looked up at him as she wiped her tears away. “Let me go repair my face, but promise me you won't spend all day inside gaming.“
“Today will be the first day of the rest of my life.” Griffin felt as if the entire future was laid out before him running over with limitless possibilities.
Playfully she hit him on the shoulder as her eyes narrowed. “Just make sure you do, Mister smarty-pants.”
“I promise.” Griffin's smile was as bright as the morning sun.
The Air Force Captain took a lung full of smoke. “I saw it, but I don't know if I believe it. However, what the hell. No one else has believed either, but the question is do you believe in superheroes, because I swear to Gawd we intercepted Iron-Man and War-Machine out over Tampa Bay last night.”
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
McDill Air Force Base
Agent G blew out a long stream of smoke. In the warm, muggy air the tobacco smoke hung like one of the overcast clouds above them. He'd started smoking during his military days, and never quite managed to quit. If he was tired, the Florida Air Guard pilot had him beat hands down.
After all the BS surrounding the intercept the pilot and his wing-man had run last night, the man deserved a break. That was why they were both outside sharing a smoke despite the chance for rain from that tropical disturbance off shore.
“Look,” G said, frankly. “I know you saw the impossible. Your aircraft recorded the images, but even with that, none of the brass wants to accept what's in front of their eyes. You've been grilled and have been up all night. I'll level with you.” The MIB said, “I believe there are things that defy our explanations. Just tell me what happened.”
The Air Force Captain took a lung full of smoke. “I saw it, but I don't know if I believe it. However, what the hell. No one else has believed either, but the question is do you believe in superheroes, because I swear to Gawd we intercepted Iron-Man and War-Machine out over Tampa Bay last night.”
Danny
Upton Heights Acres
Wide-eyed, he watched a blur slip over the fence. His heart thudded in his chest like one of those big Caribbean steel oil drums turned into musical instruments. By force of will, he made himself calm down. It would not do for him to kill himself when he was so close to finally being able to live.
But Damn it, Griff had done it!
The proof was in that hard to see blur that had left Steven 'The Perv's' backyard. Not only had Griff used some kind of really rad camouflage that was near invisible, but he had vaulted a seven feet tall fence like it was nothing.
Sure Danny had seen police and military guys clear higher walls though the internet, but this was his friend Griff. Before, there was no way he could've done it, but even with that hard-to-see thing going, Griff had done the deed with ease.
A knocking at the door interrupted his introspection.
“Come in.” Danny invited, knowing it was his Mom.
He'd inherited her brown hair and eyes, but his Dad's darker complexion. She, while not fair skinned, still tanned, and of late she'd been working harder at getting some sun and staying healthier.
Danny had seen the difference after she'd meet Griff's mother who, although being a few years older, actually looked at least ten years younger. That'd motivated his Mom into making changes. She'd lost a good ten pounds and wasn't showing any signs of slowing down. He'd even seen the gray in her hair disappear courtesy of Miss Clairol.
Honestly, he was glad to see her pay attention to herself. After she'd spent his whole life caring and worrying about him, the experience had exacted a price. Before Griff had potentially changed everything, the thing Danny had wanted most in the world was for his family to be happy. He'd known sorrow was coming, and was determined that the good memories outlasted the grieving.
However, now, just maybe, there was a happy ending for his family after all.
“How are you this morning?” She asked, her sharp eyes looking for signs he was in distress.
“I'm fine, Mom.” Danny answered. “Perhaps I overdid it just a little yesterday, but I had a good time just hanging with Griff.”
“Do I dare ask what you two were up to in the backyard?” She smiled as she walked into the room straightening and picking up things he had trouble reaching due to being confined to his 'wheels.'
“Not really Mom.” He answered, not wanting to lie. “We were preparing for a secret mission.”
“Ah,” She misunderstood. “Something to do with you two's online gaming.”
“Shhh,” He replied, happily content she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. “It's a secret.”
“I promise I won't tell a soul.” She made a buttoning her lips gesture.
As much as he tried to be as independent as possible, the truth was he still needed help to take care of things most other people took for granted. Your normal teenager would be blushing in embarrassment, but for Danny it was simply a continuing part of staying alive.
It helped that, for all that he was sixteen, he was just starting a hesitant puberty. Occasionally, a few stray hairs would decide to grow, but sometimes they would change their minds. The most he could claim was he did feel attraction at times, particularly like yesterday watching 'Daisy Duke,' even if he didn't have a physical reaction. A very two sided advantage, his burden kept any unfortunate involuntary reactions from occurring during awkward times like now.
They were both used to the routine, and it didn't take long. Then came time to head down to the kitchen for breakfast and his meds. Sometimes he felt it should be the other way around since it seemed he took more pills than he did food.
It was only then that he began to worry about how he would ever explain his cure, the recovery. Danny was sure that tests would be run, but didn't know if they would pick up whatever option that would, he hoped, work the remedy to his burden.
However, living close to the reality of just what his burden meant, death, had made him very practical. First make sure he would live till tomorrow, and then he could worry about what came afterward.
“Here you go.” His Dad placed breakfast in front of him.
“Thanks Dad.” Danny dug into his food.
If his Mom was his lifeline, then his Dad was the rock that anchored them all. No matter the stress or the drama, Dad was there, end of line, no questions. However, he too showed the signs of the years of stress of looking after his ill son. Just the fact they lived in Upton Heights stated their family were doing well financially, but his Father often put long hours at the law firm where he worked. The gray hair and slight paunch were visual clues that caring for a seriously ill son had taken it's toll.
“Hey Danny,” His Dad remarked casually, “Pam called while you and your Mom were upstairs. She's coming home for the summer. She's taking her finals next week and the week after that we're all going to Gainesville to help her move.”
“Cool.” He replied. His sister was a few years older than him and was in her freshman year. Before she'd left for the University, she'd spent a lot of time with him. It was between the time she'd started, and Griff had moved into the neighborhood, that had been the hardest on him. Online friends were great, but they didn't make up for having a real live person there with you.
Speaking of which ...
“What's up?” The big red head grinned from the door. “Do I smell breakfast?”
Danny returned his friend's grin. Things just got better.
Steven
Upton Heights Acres
The door slammed shut.
That was a clear statement that Brian was still angry.
Something crashed on the other side of the door, the sound of it shattering echoing in the hallway.
Correct that. His little florist was mad as hell.
Steven quirked an eyebrow. This was all extremely unusual, but nothing about this weekend had been at all normal. The booth that all research he could find labeled as an MAU had assured that.
His smile was confident. Brian would calm down in time. Make-up sex was always more than worth it. Who could've guessed that War-Machine having a little fun with those Air Force jets would've set off his little florist's temper so spectacularly?
It baffled him that a staunch liberal like Brian cared so much about those military jet jocks. Steven, however, knowing he was virtually immune to their attacks, enjoyed showing the power he had in the comic-book inspired armor. He had made certain that, unlike the ones in the movies, these suits were very difficult to detect on radar or infrared, which was the military's favorite means of targeting their enemies. To their sensors he and Brian had been invisible.
Something else crashed behind the doors and made him glad he'd insured any and everything that was remotely valuable. Even taking his boyfriend out to breakfast at his favorite restaurant this morning failed to have the desired effect.
Well he did err when he suggested they don the suits again this morning after they returned. That was a mistake. However, the feeling of freedom and power were addicting. He could see why the fictional character, Tony Stark, didn't want to leave his armor 'security' blanket.
It did seem that Brian wouldn't be up for playtime, nor willing to experiment with the MAU any time soon. Perhaps if he knew about the time-limitation, but Steven was keeping that information to himself. He had some permanent changes in mind for his lover. Honestly, he was still vacillating over some of the details.
Steven was well aware of his 'peculiarities' and he'd managed to work out his interests in ways that didn't cause too much trouble. His boyfriend's youthfulness was a prime example of that management. He considered his solution a win-win. Brian only looked like jail-bait, but was far older than that on paper.
However, the MAU had sharpened his sexual appetite for those just beginning their bloom. He'd very much enjoyed the role-playing he and his lover had enacted. However, as great as that play had been it'd also revealed that there were limits to what his lover was willing to do. That was unfortunate, because Steven wanted more.
Knowing he had to give Brian time to cool, he chuckled. He would just have to find some other way of amusing himself until then. He thought about playing with the amazing MAU some more, but he'd already decided on the changes he was going to keep for himself. Steven was well aware that these devices were highly sought after, and he had advertised that something unusual was going on here. If the device disappeared right now, it wouldn't hurt him, but it would interfere with his plan for Brian's coming makeover.
Walking briskly to his study, it was time to see what his Little Florist had been up to while Big Daddy was away. Turning on his computer, he accessed the surveillance program he'd installed. He'd thought it rather clever, since it used the same motion sensors that turned on security lights, but his system used cameras. That way he got to see the action without having to wade though hours of nothing.
Pouring himself a drink, the backyard of course was a special problem. With that firehouse mutt of Brian's, the bitch was always setting off the cameras. However with the MAU there at center stage, perhaps the constant coverage wasn't a bad idea. Besides this system was separate from the one used by the security service paid to monitor his property.
Steven was still suspicious that Brian hadn't known the dog was a bitch before it was too late and they were already on the way home. He did not care for females. Perhaps they were necessary for reproduction, but it was all so messy and unsanitary. Despite that, Brian had talked him into keeping the dog out back in the yard. It was good that the animal had learned early on to avoid him. The feeling was mutual.
Leaning back in his chair he smiled in anticipation as he watched the recording of Brian preparing to use the MAU Saturday morning. He was curious as to what his Little Florist would do without his being there to influence the decision.
He spit the expensive liquor out as the girl walked out of the booth! Coughing and his eyes watering from snorting the alcohol, Steven cursed, “That Bitch!”
Trying to mop up the mess before the liquor stripped the varnish off his pricey desk, he couldn't believe his eyes. His lover had turned himself into a bitch! Pouring himself another glass... this time he didn't bother with sipping.
It was crystal clear where the form had come from. Steven recognized the character's calling card, the 'Daisy Dukes.' Resolutely he watched the entire thing as 'She' removed all signs of the MAU from the property. Twisting his face up in a grimace he saw 'Her' step into the booth just before, he, Steven had returned from his morning golfing game.
He almost felt dirty, knowing he'd had sex with Brian right after that. It made him feel soiled and unclean. With a grim resolve, he watched all the rest, fast forwarding though watching Brian's mutt use his backyard as a toilet far too many times.
On the recording he recognized that Sunday morning had come and was going to turn it off when the dog began barking at a tree. Smirking, stupid bitch, he froze as a figure dressed all in black climbed down.
To make the bitch completely useless she just sat there and wagged her tail as the intruder fed her a bribe.
Panicked, he ran to the backyard, but breathed in relief as he saw the MAU was still where it was supposed to be. Returning to the recording he watched every second trying to get a clue who had violated his privacy.
A man with a mission, he accessed the regular security systems recordings. The MAU was his. It landed on his property and he was the one who deciphered how to use it. No one had the right to use it without his say so. This demanded a payment and it would be paid in full.
Griffin
Urban Hell Acres
He could see Danny was so excited that he was about to fly out of his 'wheels' like a rocket. Taking the stairs up, while his friend rode his elevator up to his room, Griffin felt like Santa Claus. This was, he grinned broadly, Christmas in May.
Danny nearly pushed him inside, closing the door behind them.
“I know you got it!” The boy stuck sitting demanded holding out his hands.
“Whoa,” Griffin smiled backing away. “Slow down! First we have to get you connected.”
“Connected?” Danny repeated. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” From his usual battered backpack, he took out a near copy of Danny's own book bag.
Blinking, his friend glanced at the door where his bag normally hung and found it still there.
“This is as perfect a copy as I could come up with on the fly. It'll do until you've a chance to refine it.” Griffin explained, but he could see confusion on Danny's face.
Then he took a match to his own visor and phone/tri-corder from the counterfeit book bag. “Here, put these on and hold this.”
Taking off his glasses, Danny put on the ones Griffin offered, as well as taking the phone.
“Okay,” The boy demanded, obviously a bit peeved. “What's next?”
“Why,” Griffin beamed. “You tell it, 'Computer On' of course!”
The redhead couldn't keep from laughing at his friend's expression.
“You!” Danny accused. “Computer On.”
Griffin felt like jumping up and down like a cheerleader as the Alien Machine produced devices initialized. Although he couldn't see the images he could see his friend's eyes flickering back and forth as they read the data in the visors HUD, Heads-Up-Display. That was a weakness that needed to be addressed.
“Wowzers!” Danny exclaimed. “The glasses just adjusted to my optical prescription. I can see perfectly with these, even better than my old glasses.”
“Hold up your old phone next to it and tell it to synchronize.” Griffin directed. “It'll transfer all your SIM card information from it to your new tri-corder.”
“I have a tri-corder?” Danny questioned, as he commanded. “Synchronize the data.”
“You do now.” The redhead couldn't keep from grinning. “That phone is computer, tri-corder, part Sonic screwdriver, and the brains that connects all the rest of the stuff together. There's a JARVIS that will help you manage it all.
“This.” He took the fountain pen appearing servo from the bag. “Has the rest of the Sonic Screwdriver's functions as well as being the multi-tool from hell. It contains a sensor that lets you direct the tri-corder's analysis functions more intuitively and, like any tool, you can use it as a weapon.”
“A tri-corder and a Sonic Screwdriver?” Danny replied, dazed looking at the gadgets in his hands with wonder. “What's next?”
“Well,” Griff really did feel like Santa now. “How about a Bag of Holding?”
He took what looked to be an insulated lunch bag from the book bag. “Not this, but, this.” Griffin held up the look-alike book bag. “It's really a portable nanotech factory, a Universal Survival kit, able to produce or become just about anything you can design or scan.”
“This however,” He handed Danny the lunch bag. “Is the nanotech hospital we designed. If it works you should be getting some kind of icon up on your visor.”
“I got it now.” The ill boy announced. “I'm telling it to scan myself now.”
“Sorry for the drama.” Griffin wasn't the least bit apologetic. “But you needed to do this first before trying the other stuff. This can diagnose, as well as treat, if it functions the way we wanted.”
“It's working!” Danny excitedly reported. “It's asking for permission to search for information. I'm telling it to proceed, but to spread out its inquiries so it doesn't bring any undue attention to us.”
“So if I may ask?” The boy looked up at Griffin. “Why in the world a lunch bag?”
“Because it's so ordinary no one would give it a second glance.” The redhead replied. “Also, I know you keep some of your medications in yours. Just like the tri-corder, factory, and sonic screwdriver, it looks like ordinary things you'd expect to see in a school bag. Now that we have this stuff I don't mean for them to be taken away from us. If you chose not to use them then okay, but I did make sure that the survival kit could replace anything that is broken or stolen. A tracker lets you hunt down any of them that are lost. This stuff is yours, keyed to you and you alone.”
“Oh, the survival kit is the recharger for all the rest.” Griffin remembered to add. “You'll just have to remember to feed it water like a Mr. Fusion from 'Back to the Future' from time to time.”
“Is there anything you didn't think of?” Danny asked, his eyes still scanning the images produced by his visor.
“I'm sure there is.” Griffin answered, “But I did try to cover all the angles.”
“So what is it did you do to yourself?” His friend asked. “I saw you, despite that 'blur,' vault that wall like it was nothing.”
“Well,” He began, thinking that just some of the truth would work. “You remember when I said I had body issues?”
At Danny's nod, he continued, “The truth is I'm not comfortable in my own body. It's like a suit of clothes that just doesn't fit or feel right. However, I'm not all that certain what will work better for me, so rather than take a chance on something that might or might not work out, I chose the last option. All the above.”
His friend worked it out. “So you can stay yourself or change, so that third choice must be C, a shape-changer?”
“Yeah.” Griffin answered. “This one came from a story that had a half-way plausible, techno-babble explanation of how it would be done. I have a new organ that secretes a hormone that returns targeted cells back to their embryonic stem-cell state, where I can consciously direct them to change pretty much anyway I wish. That includes increasing my strength when I need to, which is how I got over the fence.”
“That's pretty cool,” Danny admitted. “Hey, The Nano-Doc is reporting! Get this, it seems to be the real deal. What it's saying falls into line about what is known about my burden. Now, its giving me treatment options.”
“You might want to have the Doc scan your pill and symbiont too, before deciding on treatment.” Griffin took the two final presents out of the book bag. “I specifically made certain that all of them would compliment the other if they were all viable.”
The Dr. McCoy pill was in a small medicine bottle, while the suit was wrapped plastic. Unable to help himself, Griffin had labeled the medicine bottle as a prescription from Dr. Leonard McCoy. 'Take One pill. Don't call me in the morning.'
The packaged suit he'd had printed a label on it as well:
'Symbiont-one-each, One size fits all, Not dishwasher safe, Do not dry-clean, Do not machine wash, Made far, far away, but we won't tell if you won't.'
“Very funny.” Danny said, dryly turning the writing around to show what he was referring to.
“You have no idea of how happy it makes me to be able to do this for you.” Griffin was bouncing on his heels. “It is important, but it should be fun too.”
“You were right.” His friend's eyes got distant again as they scanned the data on his visor. “All three can work and together they're the fastest and will overall have the best effects. That includes having the most positive benefits after the cure.”
“Go for it.” Griffin grinned.
“Alright. “Danny read the directions, “Put on the suit, and take pill with the drink located in the medical compartment.”
Taking the suit package, he found a tab on the back that simply read, “Pull.”
“That'll activate the suit.” Griffin informed him.
Taking as deep a breath as his frail body could stand, he pulled the tab.
Danny
Upton Heights Acres
The 'plastic' tab and wrapping melted into the air as the 'contents' flowed over his bare skin bypassing his clothes. Danny grasped at the weird sensation. It was vaguely like the sponge bath he had this morning, but he felt this all over himself. For the first time he really understood the meaning of 'sensual.'
The whole experience was also a little alarming, but his visor actually tracked the progress of what was going on. That made it somewhat easier knowing and being able to see what was happening.
Stage One was the initial symbiont deployment: That was it flowing all over him.
Stage Two was the symbiont's entry into his body though his skin pores. The feeling of a gentle heat was pleasant at first, but came to just this side of being too much to stand. Then it faded away.
Stage Three, the symbiont used his blood stream to travel thoughout his body, although it was still centered/based in his epidermis.
It seemed to Danny that he could feel his heart working harder with the increased load. However then came Stage Four. The symbiotic organism bonded with critical organs, like his heart, and took on part of the effort of keeping him alive, stabilizing his condition and preventing point failures like heart-attacks, strokes and other bad things.
A blinking reminder said now was time to take the Pill. Opening up the lunch bag, there was a small bottle of liquid. Twisting off the top, he popped the Pill in his mouth with long practice. Prepared for something vile, the liquid instead tasted rather nice, having a nice light fruity taste. Heck, even his mouth felt refreshed from it, like he'd just finished brushing his teeth or something.
Finally came Stage Five where it began repairing what was broken.
Oddly he didn't feel anything, which was actually a good thing. With his years of following his medical burden, he was actually able to follow the majority of what his 'Doc' was telling him that was happening. Most of it was strengthening parts of his body that his burden had weakened or hadn't allowed to develop as it should.
As to the burden itself, it appeared to be a few malfunctioning protein receptors in just the wrong places. He couldn't believe it when the 'Doc' reported the defective cells were 'repaired.'
“I'm cured.” The whisper escaped him.
There was still much to be done before he was healthy, but he no longer had to worry that each time he went to sleep that it would be the last.
Griff just sat by the window, grinning like a fool.
'Well, let's give him something to grin about' Danny thought. Activating the voice function, he ordered, “Exoskeleton on. I want to stand.”
The symbiont flowed out from his skin engulfing even his clothes. Another first in his life... Danny stood without assistance. Of course the suit was doing all the work, but that didn't matter. He was on his feet.
Griff stood with him and hugged him. “Congrats Danny! We did it. You made it.”
“Wouldn't have happened without you.” He told the Farm-boy.
“Nothing to it.” Griff pretended as if it wasn't a big deal. “I was going in there anyway. It was just as easy to do two as one.”
“It's a good thing you did get my help.” Danny lightly punched his friend in the arm. “You would've fallen off that roof for sure without my moral support.”
“Maybe,” Griff admitted with a shrug. “Besides, doing this together was better in a lot of ways, but I have a request.”
“Hey enough with the hugging!” Danny laughed, “What do you want?”
“Clothes,” The redhead pointed at the catsuit like symbiont that was the only thing the boy was wearing.
“Hey computer, put me back in what I was wearing, but sized to fit over the exoskeleton.” A little unsteady, but growing more confident with every step, he went to his bathroom that was filled with all the helpful do-dads such as handles and railings to aid him in staying as independent as his condition would allow. His ex-condition, Danny grinned into the mirror.
With the symbiont exoskeleton active, he didn't look like an extra from a film featuring the Holocaust. He looked normal even if his face did appear thin. The only thing that stood out was his skin from the chin down was the shiny black of the symbiont. That should be fixable.
“Jarvis,” He requested. “Please alter the non-clothing portions of the exoskeleton to match my facial complexion.
Watching as the black changed, Danny then looked at taller Farm-boy. “So what do we do next?”
“I thought you would never ask.” Griff smiled with a glint in his green eyes.
501st Legion Garrison outpost
Recon detachment briefing
“Alright listen up!” Sean stared at the half-dozen volunteers who'd been able to make it, although that term was relative. Each and every one had some kind of military experience which wasn't uncommon for the Legion. They had more than their share of veterans.
Normally he wouldn't be so picky about a detachment, but one of their potential targets had shown aggressive tendencies. If it came down to shooting, which he hoped to Gawd it didn't, he wanted that target taken down hard and fast.
These are your objectives,” Beth was playing Mon Mothma and giving the briefing.
A hologram appeared of War-Machine Mk 1 and Iron-Man MK VI.
There was a lot of muttering. As part of the fan scene they knew this stuff backwards and forwards.
“War-Machine appears to be the model out of the 2nd movie. Observe the mini-gun and box grenade launcher.” She pointed out, the holo zooming in to each weapon. Also be aware that he also still has his repulsors and the beam in the chest.”
“This is the one who was the aggressor and played chicken with a pair of F-16's out of Homestead last night.” Sean went over his concerns. “Unfortunately War-Machine lives up to its name, being very heavily armed. Even more of a problem, we have no guarantees that our ion guns are going to be effective or not.”
“Ion guns are awfully short range to be taking on a heavy hitter like that!” A trooper voiced what they were all thinking.
“And that is why you'll have a pair of Jedi running interference, as well as having more powerful weapons available just in case. Hopefully none of that will be needed and diplomacy will suffice, but if it doesn't we will be prepared.”
“Your next objective is potentially easier.” Beth put up the holo of Iron-Man armor Mark VI. This is the one from the beginning of the second movie that flies into the Expo Center. To the best of our knowledge its just an upgrade of The Mark III from the first movie, with the shoulder mounted missiles and flare launchers.”
“Easy she says.” Sean heard the low whisper, but he agreed. Iron-Man's armor no matter the Mark was never easy.
“Yes, Easy.” Sean spoke up backing up his wife. “That's because the pilot, while enjoying flying, didn't want to have anything at all to do with a pair of fast-movers. It's possible that its a husband-wife pair, given their reactions. After all Pepper Pott's Rescue armor was not depicted in the movies, so they might have used the Mark VI as a substitute.”
“It is also possible we misread the situation.” Beth picked the point. “If it was a couple, the man might have been trying to buy time for his girl to run which would explain the dangerous game he played. However, that was not our first impression.”
A bit more muttering took place. They all knew you could damn near take a Jedi's gut instincts to the bank as a sure thing.
“Again, we don't want to start anything.” Sean emphasized that strongly. “As a matter of fact the Collective is sending someone to help us, but they won't be here till tomorrow, so until then it's just us. With that in mind this is scouting mission to pin point our objectives' location.
“We won't act unless there are lives in danger tonight.” Sean again made sure he made eye contact with each of the detachment. “Additionally there are MIB's on site, and we all know how much trouble they can get into at the drop of a hat.”
He got a few laughs from that. The Agency had tried infiltrating their Legion Garrison on numerous occasions, but the Jedi had sniffed them out with ridiculous ease. It had given rise to some very humorous snipe hunts and other initiation tasks created just for them.
“No really?” Beth added in false disbelief, which got a laugh from everyone.
“Alright people,” He intoned, in a centuries old rote. “Let's move it!”
The troopers and Jedi headed to their vehicles.
Under his breath Sean whispered, “May the Force be with us.”
Just as quietly Beth added, “Amen.”
They were going to need it.
“I can't believe I did all those things today!” Danny's eyes shined with happiness in spite of the heavy gray clouds that had hung overhead all day long.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
by
Grover
Upton Heights Acres
Despite the extremely adequate makeup sex, he was still peeved. No, not angry or frustrated, because that meant a loss of control, but not happy. Brian had come to him looking for a promise not to repeat the previous night's little game of tag with the US Air Force.
It was also a test of the new changes he'd made to himself, but they had failed to work.
As a robotics engineer, he knew the human body was just another machine, only biological instead of mechanical. That went for the human brain as well. It was an amazing organ, but still, in the end, only a computer that like any other could be programmed.
Great strides had been made in understanding just how those biological systems worked which aided duplicating their functions in constructing robots and other machines. After all, evolution had done all the design work, so why reinvent the wheel?
Coming up with a way to control others with other means besides his usual charm and manipulation was an engineering problem Steven believed he could solve. However, every one of his approaches had failed thus far. Only the pheromone angle seemed to have worked at all, but while it had his Little Florist as hot as a live coal, it fell short of what he'd hoped to achieve.
Steven hadn't forgotten that Brian had turned himself into a bitch, which still made him shudder. That was just disgusting! Still he had added to his collection of Iron-Man suits. The suitcase model would be handy and unlike Tony Stark in the movie he didn't have to painfully inject himself with computer chips to control the remote control Mark 42 armor. Having a suit that would literally jump onto him at a second's notice was beyond cool. He reveled in the power.
His plan had originally been to simply withhold the MAU's time-limitation from Brian while pushing his lover into assuming a more 'pleasing' form. However, the secret his lover had kept from him, as well as that intruder, made him alter his plan. Both events revealed that Steven didn't have as much control and power as he'd believed.
Sighing, he'd had setbacks before. There was still all night and tomorrow to work out why his mind control alterations failed, and then to come up with a solution. Besides, he'd deduced who that intruder had to be.
Certainly the figure in gray had been clever, using the roof to gain access and avoiding the majority of the security cameras. However, whoever had broken-in, could only have done so from one of two houses. The Chenoweths were staid bankers with about as much imagination as rocks.
Ah, but the other neighbor, Christopher the construction magnate, had a step-son, Griffin who fit the description perfectly. Although young, the boy looked years older, which was a shame. Yet what really bothered Steven was the teen's immunity to his charisma.
Even shyly playing the gay card, calling the young man a bigot fell flat. Because of that, Steven had patiently waited to put the youngster in his place, preferably on his hands and knees.
Now, he had a real reason, but his plans depended on the mind control protocols he couldn't get to function.
Steven shrugged, He was no stranger to hard work. After his working class parents had turned their backs on him, he'd put his own self though college. Graduating at the head of his class he'd built his fledgling robotics company the old fashioned way, with dedication and long hours.
In time he'd forgiven his parents because he'd learned a very important lesson from them. They had promised to always love and care for him, but they had lied. No one kept promises unless it was convenient or breaking them had very unwanted consequences.
Using the increasingly unpleasant weather as an excuse, tonight he would appear to putter around with the machine, indulging in his engineering interests, while really building up his stash of armor suits and exploring why the mental domination thing wasn't working. That would keep Brian happy and unsuspecting until Steven was ready to move.
All that was left to do was the doing. Even if it took all night he would beat this. So, focused on his task, he missed seeing the purple script tracking across the screen.
Internal events log
Received customer order
Analyzing customer requests
Processing customer order
Scanning for quality control
FAILED fail-safe protocols
Customer service message delivered:
There has been a problem with completing your order due to possible violations of local moral imperatives. If you believe this message in error please contact your nearest Gamalfi Customer Service Center.
Thank you and have a zorful Febvul!
Griffin
Urban Hell Acres
“I can't believe I did all those things today!” Danny's eyes shined with happiness in spite of the heavy gray clouds that had hung overhead all day long.
They had gotten back just in time for dinner and barely avoided being caught by Danny's always alert Mom.
“But you did.” Griffin hadn't been able to stop grinning the whole day. Sneaking out and helping his once wheelchair bound friend really live for the first time had been one of the best times of his life.
“I walked, ran, Hell, I even climbed a tree!” He sat on the bed tired despite the Suit having done most of the work today.
“It's the only way out of your room that we can avoid your parents.” Griffin made light of the accomplishment. “Of course you climbed a tree, twice, up and down.”
“Yes I did!” Danny said proudly. “However, I think that when 'Doc' advised me to take it easy, that it was a good idea. I'm tired, and hungry. I don't think I've ever been that hungry before. I was starving.”
Griffin took a recently created apple out of his insulated lunch bag/Nano-medical unit. “Have your Doc formulate a snack for your needs like this.” He took a bite of the nano-tech rendered fruit, which tasted just as good as the one he'd scanned into the memory this morning.
“Hey! Thanks a good idea.” Danny was soon munching on his own apple. “That's good!”
“We'll have to go by a grocery and scan everything we can to give us a nice assortment of choices.” Griffin said, taking another bite.
“So this can make food for us too?” The once ill boy asked.
“Yeah,” Griffin replied. “As well as medicines. It can even purify water or even produce it from water vapor. The unit can go further and make breathable air by recycling like a re-breather does, but even better. You can plug it into your suit and make it a spacesuit or add the survival unit to upgrade it to economy powered armor.
“You can't make a Gundam suit, but smaller, closer to man-sized should be doable.” He explained. “It's really just a heavier version of your exoskeleton function with extras.”
“Extras?” Danny asked disbelievingly. “You come up with powered armor and you just call it extras?”
“Yes.” The redhead replied. “Compared to the Iron-Man armor, yeah, just extras. My selections are much more versatile than Steven's, and you can hide our stuff while that armor of his is anything but easy to conceal.
“However,” Griff pointed out the other side of the coin. “His suits are purpose-built, deliberately specialized and therefore more effective in their given roles.”
“That does makes sense.” Danny grudgingly admitted. “Our stuff is good for lots of different things, but he has to change his suit each time to get the most from them.”
“Speaking of which.” Griffin asked, “Just how many has he made now?”
Danny sat back in his hated 'wheels' because it was the only chair that fit at his computer desk. Accessing the surveillance cameras his friend had put up yesterday, he whistled, “Wow. The total, including the ones he later dismissed in the MAU and the one he made for Brian?”
“Just the ones he has stacked in his house some wheres.” The redhead replied, laughing.
“I make it five or six if that briefcase had the portable number inside.” Danny counted. “Could be as many as seven, with Brian's suit.”
Maybe he is trying to become Tony Stark.” Griffin joined his friend whistling his amazement.
“Or maybe he knows about the time limit.” Danny pointed out. “Look how he's making them and storing them.
“Perhaps, he's trying a change and it's not working?” The boy at the keyboard made a guess. “But if he knows, why isn't Brian taking a turn? It's almost as if he doesn't know.”
“I wouldn't lay down money that Steven told him.” Griffin replied, angry at the 'The Perv.' “It would be just like him to talk Brian into something he really doesn't want and wait for the damn thing to stop working.”
“You think he's really that bad?” Danny asked, looking a little green. After all he'd been trapped in a dying body all his life. To deliberately trap someone else, even if the body wasn't about to self-destruct, made him sick. “I know we talk about how Steven is a Perv, but this?
“Yes,” Griffin stated. “This. I think he would. We have to tell Brian.”
“Okay,” Danny nodded. “I'll go along with that, but we need to be careful we don't reveal ourselves to Steven. Anyone who would do such a thing to someone is dangerous.”
“You got that right.” Griffin agreed. “I'll have to dive into my savings and buy a throwaway phone.”
“Can't we just use our tricorders, that look like phones, as phones?” Danny asked, humorously.
“We could, but the JARVIS's are still learning.” Griffin explained. “Give it a few days and I'm sure the quantum computer that it is will have the whole keeping our location thing all figured out, but until then I wouldn't want to chance it. Remember Steven has a JARVIS too built into his suits.
“I'll use my disguise power and pay cash.” He laid out his plan. “To make double sure I'll text him at the mall and 'lose' the phone there.” Griffin made ditto marks in the air.
“You don't have time tonight.” His friend incline his head at the time displayed at the bottom of the screen. “It'll have to be tomorrow after school. You'll be cutting it awfully close for him. He'll only have a few hours at the most to respond.”
Griffin sighed heavily. His friend was right, but they couldn't chance Steven finding out about them. The best information they had was the MAU stayed active from three to four days, but they didn't know just how much of that fourth day they had to work with. He was still a bit irritated at Brian keeping his distance, if not ending their friendship, but he did get why. Friends were hard to come by, and it hurt when even one was lost. However, he wouldn't, couldn't, allow Steven to trap his friend in some body that looked perpetually under-age.
“I have this really crazy suggestion.” Danny said, after a moment.
“Okay,” The redhead gestured. “Let have it.”
“You're not using your equipment to its potential again.” The boy at the keyboard held up his tricorder again. “All you want is the anonymity of the throw-away-phone's SIM card. However, with these 'replicators' of ours we should be able to modify that phone to act like it's on a timer and call when we both have an iron tight alibi.”
“Like sitting in class.” Griffin smiled broadly. “I like it! Plus we can get and modify the phone tonight. We just have to work a place to hide it so it can made it's single call tomorrow.”
“Wish I could sneak out and join you,” Danny sighed, “But Mom is due in to shoo you out any minute now for my evening checkup. Hopefully she won't see any changes yet and freak out.”
“Nah,” Griffin reassured him. “Just check your Doc if you have a problem. Besides, I'm guessing it's going to take time for your body to heal and grow the way it should be.”
“Yeah,” You're right.” Danny admitted after a moment of checking his JARVIS Doctor program. It says nothing should be noticeable yet. I should start to put on weight, but it's important I use the suit as much as I can to help build my muscles and tone. Seems like you had the right idea when you made certain all my cures would work together.”
“Of course I did!” Griffin grinned. “But I need to be going if I'm going to make it to the store in time. See 'ya!”
Danny
Upton Heights Acres
He watched Griff leave even as he wondered if he should've asked or not. Today had been one of the most awesome days of his life. It'd been possible only because of his friend risking breaking his neck and trespassing on property that was owned by someone unfriendly to them both.
'Body issues' Griff had gruffly put off going into detail why he would take such chances with his life. Then there was that whole thing about Brian and the Daisy Duke thing. That reminded him of the search string he'd saved regarding that 'Tee' Griff had mentioned.
While he'd been flying high on pure wonder, Danny couldn't keep from noticing that his friend was, well, moving differently. He'd become accustomed to his large, rather lumbering friend. Elephants, rhinoceros, and other very large powerful animals that you really don't want to upset came to mind.
However, today his friend was moving … gracefully? What came to mind wasn't the least ponderous, but on the other hand, Griff hadn't lost any of his over six foot height either, which meant there was still this feeling ... of what Danny didn’t quite know. Perhaps imposing was the best word.
Going back to the Collective web browser, he typed in the clues Griff had dropped about where his ideas for some of the gadgets he'd made had originated. The strange part was Danny was as much a fan of science-fiction as his friend, but he'd never heard of shape-changers quite like what Griff had described nor anything exactly like these Universal Survival Kits either.
Sure the Sonic Screwdriver, Tricorder, and Mr. Fusion stuff were well known fictional gadgets from science-fiction fandom, but although Griff had applied a practical spin to the devices, it wasn't a mystery where they came from.
Despite how the Collective browser had made him uneasy with that odd search return for the MAU, you still couldn't beat it for pie-in-the-sky searches like this one. Shapers it seemed were from the story Green Rain and the science fiction version of the USK was from one named 'A Bodysuit Story Sorta Kinda.'
What they had in common was, both were found on a transgender fiction site. Together, with that previous search string about the Tee in LGBT, Danny thought he had more of a clue to Griff's body issues.
The next question of how to handle this revelation was a hard one. It was the blogs at that TG fiction web site that gave him the answer. Unlike some fiction sites he'd visited in his relentless search for half-way decent reading material, these authors and readers poured their hearts and souls out. Another difference was that, while it was a 'fiction' site, all too many of the experiences of the characters were based on bad things that really happened, often to the author.
Technically he was a minor, but he'd never let that stop him before. Danny had long ago decided that he would be more than likely dead before any moral corruption could strain his immortal soul. Accessing one of his proxies, he signed up for an account so he could post a blog of his own.
I'm your average guy, but I have a friend who I'm about ninety percent certain has gender difficulties of some sort. I think he's preparing to make changes some time in the near future, but I don't know for certain. He could be dropping clues to prepare me, but I think it's really because he trusts me and is not as careful with his facade as with others.
My question is, what do I do? Should I just ignore my suspicions until he is ready to tell me, or should I let him know? Perhaps quietly supportive is best?
Please let me what you all think! I really don't get this gender thing, but he's my friend and I want to be there for him, just like he was always there for me during some very difficult times in my life.
Signed,
A friend wondering what to do.
He looked at few of the stories and was surprised when he got a reply to his blog almost at once.
Dear “Friend wondering what to do.”
I think your best bet here is to let your friend set the pace. You can't be certain what, exactly, he might be planning, and if you assume something... well, we all know what assume does, right?
In the meantime, do some research on your own. Find out what possibilities there are and what transition means. When and if your friend does “come out” to you, BE a friend. One of the worst things a transitioner can have happen is to lose those he or she trusts as a result of transitioning.
Be supportive and maintain an open mind. “There are,” said the Bard, “ more things under heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy Horatio.”
From what you wrote, I feel like your friend is a male, transitioning to a female gender presentation. This can be a very positive and exciting experience for you if you allow it to be. Just accept that your friend will not be lost to you. It will still be the person you always knew and befriended, just decorated better. He may be very shy when he begins. Be his, now her, friend. Let him talk things out with you. Treat him just the same way you always have and help him make this change a positive thing for both of you.
I hope this helps.
Signed,
Been there, done that.
Hearing his Mom's knock at the door, Danny sighed, knowing he wouldn't have a chance to read any of the other replies tonight.
“Come in.” He answered, as he closed the browser. It just wouldn't do for her to start asking questions he couldn't and didn't know how to answer.
Danny couldn't keep himself from smiling. It'd been such a day like he'd never had before. He could go to sleep tonight and have faith he would wake up in the morning.
“My you're in a good mood tonight.” She said, gesturing him to wheel himself to his bed where they could begin his nightly hygiene routine.
“Yes, I am.” Danny beamed up at her, as he moved the hoist to help him up.
Beth scolded the two troopers as they tracked the attractive woman who just rode by them on a fast looking bike. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Oh,” The Sergeant chuckled, “They're open alright!”
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Chapter 9
Griffin
Urban Hell Acres
It might be only early May, and overcast with dark gray clouds, but it was still very hot and muggy. It was more like drinking the air because the humidity was so high. Just breathing was heavy labor. That was the bad part about living in Florida, but there were good parts too. Being able to achieve that impossible dream instead of just making do with what normal medical science could manage was at the top of the list.
Bringing up JARVIS's menu on his visor, it was a good thing they could mimic nearly any kind of visor or glasses, even though everyone wore sunglasses in the sunshine state. With his visual display mimicking a nice pair of glasses nobody had a clue what he was up to.
Never mind the boy on the bicycle. Nothing to see here!
If he had to make a guess, very few would approve of his planned makeover. Honestly, he'd been thinking about this all day long. However, he had to take Danny his cures, and what kind of friend would he be to just leave afterward. Besides it'd been a lot fun sharing Danny's new experiences.
Now, however, it time to let the girl out.
“JARVIS,” He sub-vocalized. “Access images of Gina Carano and build a three dimensional model of her. Then scale up her height to the same as mine. For the face use hers and Gal Godot to create a morph with one exception. The hair is to the same shade as mine. Once the model is complete, prepare a program for the suit to assume those proportions. The fabric should be flexible, but firm so I can use it as guide to help me assume that form sorta like a mold. The face too, but make sure it doesn't impede breathing. Speaking of the mask, it should be like the suit, a guide for me to use my shape change ability. Inform me when that program is completed.”
He'd just biked though the community's gate when JARVIS reported, “Your program is ready, Sir.”
“Great.” Griffin was itching in anticipation. He'd begun riding ATV's years ago and had his own dirt bike since he was fourteen. Of course, that stuff had all been left at the farm, and he missed it. “Start another project. Begin with the basic, one person ground transport, the motorcycle. However add, or conceal the bicycle I'm currently riding within its structure. At the end of this trip, the bicycle must be quick and easy to recover.”
“Very good, Sir.” JARVIS answered, “Should I inform you of its completion?”
“Yes,” Griffin was pleased. JARVIS was a learning program after all. On the other hand, with both him and Danny having a JARVIS it could get confusing. Thinking of other superhero butlers, an alternative name was easy.
“JARVIS,” He asked. “Would you have any difficulties in responding or answering to Alfred?”
“None at all, Sir.” The machine replied.
“Then for the time being, please respond and answer to Alfred, just as you used to do for Jarvis. This is to prevent confusion with your brother unit in use by my friend Danny.”
“Very good, Sir.” The newly renamed Alfred acknowledged. “I understand and shall notify my brother unit, JARVIS, of the change of this unit's designation.
“Additionally.” The quantum computer added, “The modified motorcycle template is ready.”
“Perfect.” Griffin exclaimed, as he spotted the area he wanted to go. “Thanks Al!”
“The name is Alfred.” The machine responded. “And you're welcome.”
Laughing, Griffin rode into the overgrown glade that the developers had concealed with planted trees along the barely visible path. However while it was one of many sumps in the Tampa Bay area to deal with the heavy rains it received, this one had also been used as a dump by the previous residents. That was bad, but the developers were just as guilty because, rather than clean it up, they had tried to hide it. They seemed to be oblivious to the small fact that buried tires will always work their way out of the ground.
As a die hard country-boy, Griffin had explored all of these little wooded areas. He was glad he had, since this made the perfect place to find 'materials' no one would miss.
“Alright Al,” He dismounted, hoping this worked. Otherwise he would have to explain what happened to his bike. “Look up Ducati motorcycles and find a black, Street-fighter S. Use that for the bike's cosmetic appearance.”
“Yes Sir, it is completed.” Alfred answered. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”
“Yes,” Griffin was bouncing on his heels as he used his Servo as a sensor wand to find the best deposit of raw materials for his bike to be constructed. Finding the 'sweet' spot he wheeled his bicycle over to it. He set his backpack on the ground beside it after taking out his own nano-medkit.
“The Universal Survival Kit is authorized to use the discarded materials in this area for the fabrication. Run the program, Al.” Griffin took a step back, just in case.
“Yes Sir.” The quantum computer acknowledged. “The USK is running.”
The 'backpack' unfolded itself forming a large square, roughly a yard on a side. Looking like a big matte black blanket draped over the ground, he watched with his fingers crossed, as his bicycle 'melted' into it.
Then all the bumps of the metal, rubber and other stuff underneath it smoothed out until it was flat. A long moment passed, then slowly a Ducati began to rise up out of the black material. It was sorta, kinda like watching one of those 3D printers he'd seen operating on You-Tube, but without any visible machinery doing the printing. As the bike became closer to being completed, the black 'sheet' underneath became progressively smaller until it was used up.
Before him was the finished product, one Ducati Street-fighter, model S motorcycle.
Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, he asked Al. “Is it finished?”
“Yes Sir.” The machine confirmed. “The unit is operational.”
Getting on, he found it to much lighter than expected, but that made sense because the USK's gravity drivers were included, which was a good thing. Otherwise the thing wouldn't be able to move. Grinning recklessly, now this was a bike that could really fly!
Cautiously, he tested out the controls, relieved that it really could move under its own power and that everything worked as he'd expected. Now only one thing remained.
“Alright Al.” He put the medkit in the cargo compartment under the seat of his new improved bike. “Slowly activate the Nina Carano template for my suit and please provide a visual representation on the HUD both of it and me so I can monitor the progress.”
“Yes Sir.” Alfred replied. “In five, four, three, two, one...”
Griffin felt his suit shift around him, becoming tighter in some places, but looser in others. His head became covered in the motorcycle helmet with his glasses/visor expanding to become the face shield.
The mask to help him with the face pinched at his nose and especially he felt the tightness round his jaw and brow. He sighed, glad he'd altered himself so much, but he was very grateful he'd copied Danny's idea about the suit. It was extremely useful in helping keep himself disguised as his former big, lumbering self.
Able to simulate his former bulk, as well as hair and nails, he hardly needed the Shaper thing at all. Okay, not really because it would not pass an examination by a doctor, but it would help him reduce how much he needed to use his new transformation power.
His body grew warm and then hot as he willed his body to change. It was not comfortable and quickly grew into pain. Keeping his concentration, he relaxed his power, pausing to take a critical look at his progress.
With a trembling hand he touched his newly formed breasts. It was a far cry from the balloons and socks he'd stuck under his shirts in the past. Cradling them in his arms like a child, Griffin rocked back and forth, tears stinging his eyes.
A flash of insight hit him that this must have been how Danny had felt this morning, after being able to walk and do all the other things everyone else took for granted. It was as if a part of him, which should've always been there, was finally where it should be. He felt whole, in a way he'd never experienced before.
However, there was still a major thing that still needed attention.
The heat traveled to his groin. Griffin was limited with what changes he could make there, since they had to be temporary. However, he was familiar with ways to give the appearance of female genitalia from stories he'd read. He, however, could do better.
After he'd finished, only a doctor's examination could've told the difference. All the incriminating 'evidence' was tucked safely away where the 'boys' been before they had descended. What was left was utterly hidden by 'folds' that looked just like the real thing. Or so his best guess from the porn he managed to see suggested.
No, Griffin told himself, that was wrong. Not him or his at all, but she and her. The name 'Griffin' didn't fit all that well either, but she'd given other names a lot of thought. Bridget, she rolled the name around in her mind, then saying it aloud. “Bridget.”
She liked the sound of it. Fortunately, while she'd been born with a body fully gifted with all the hairy musculature from her knuckle dragging Scottish ancestors, her voice was a soft tenor that was often mistaken as a girl's on things with speakers like phones. Bridget knew she needed to work on her word choices and other details, but at least she wasn't cursed with a deep baritone.
Looking at her visor's display, she was mostly happy with what she saw. The big things, like her hips, couldn't be fixed without altering the bones of her pelvis which, if the soft tissue 'discomfort' was any guide, would really hurt. Honestly, she already had fuller hips than most boys, but not like a woman's. That could be solved by the suit.
“Al.” She directed. “Have the suit pad out the remaining empty spaces in the suit with realistic seeming material.”
“Yes Sir.” Alfred answered, proving he was just a smart program after all.
“Alfred.” She said formally. “Name this mode as 'Bridget,' and when active please refer to me by feminine pronouns.”
“Yes Ma'am.” The computer faithfully complied.
Sighing, she looked at 'his' head on her body. Remembering the pain, this wasn't going to easy, particularity with a sensitive area like the face.
“Al, zoom the display with a split screen of the facial morph, and a mirror display of my face.”
“Of course Ma'am.” Alfred answered, making the changes.
Bridget had specified that her changing power thing would be easy and intuitive to use. Certainty her body hadn't been difficult to change. She hadn't a problem with the related discomfort and pain. To her such a prize demanded a price, if for no other reason, so that the end result was valued.
Taking a deep breath, she focused on her face, Bridget's, even as she watched 'his' old one seeking what needed to be done. The nose was too broad, and the whole shape more of a square than an oval. The brow was like a cliff, and the lips were thin.
Like the mother of all blushes, the heat flowed into her face until it burned. A mad itching began, as the thick red beard that'd bedeviled her since that dreaded early male puberty, simply went away as the stubble fell away as the hair follicles disappeared.
On the rest of her body that thick pelt had been simply absorbed by the suit, but a natural redhead has the thickest hair follicles, and the beard was the toughest, most wiry hair of them all. Long had she needed to use a bladed razor instead of an electric, because nothing else could cut it effectively, but no more.
Spikes of intense pain hit her as the bones of her skull changed, but she had gone too far to stop now. She, Bridget, had to … be. 'He' had 'his' day, and now it was time for hers.
Her nose wasn't as painful as the brow or chin, but still hurt, sending tears running down her cheeks which were gaining definition with each moment. Compared to those things, her stinging lips as they blossomed didn't hurt at all.
The mask alerted her to places that still needed attention, but the painful, hard things were finished. Details, such as her eyes, were beyond simple, requiring only tightening the skin here and there.
Relaxing, Bridget smiled as she studied the two images. They were near identical. It did occur to her that she would have to do this all over again to change back, but perhaps she could cheat, using soft tissue and cartilage instead of altering bone again.
Damn, but did that hurt!
“Alright Al.” She began. “Let's do away with the helmet and mask so I can see the new me.”
“Yes Ma'am.” Alfred retracted the helmet, leaving only the reformed visor behind.
“And reset the display to mirror me, editing out the image of the visor.” She directed, touching her soft lips.
Critically she scrutinized her face. Both Gina Cararno and Gal Godgot had that Mediterranean dusky complexion as well as being brunettes. Her inherited hair color simply didn't match, or look right.
However, Grandpa Joe had a huge library of classic science-fiction, and one of the characters had red hair just like hers, but also had a dark tan instead of burning with freckles. Flinx and his mighty mini-dragon Pip had entertained her for many hours as she worked her way though the whole 14 book series.
However what was important that it gave her an idea.
What made dyed red hair so difficult to look natural was that it really wasn't just one color. It was a blending of reds, golds, blonds, and even browns. That gave her the clue to adjust her skin complexion under tone to more of a red-gold, while at the same time playing with the suit controls to mimic her hair. Like it or not her real hair didn't change and, although she was sure she could force-grow it, she would have to cut it in just a couple of hours.
The time would come when she could keep her hair long, but that time was not now. Besides, the suit would do a good job of faking it better than any wig.
“Al.” She said. “Hunt up an example of the motorcycle suit that Gal Gadot wore in Fast Five and load the design onto my suit. While you're about it, activate the environmental controls. It's getting a little warm out here.”
“The name.” Al already sounded like he was already long suffering. “Is Alfred. Yes ma'am, your suit has made the necessary modifications and environmentals are active.”
“Thanks Al.” Bridget said with a grin. She was already feeling cooler. “That hits the spot.”
“You're welcome, Ma'am.” Alfred answered, with a sigh.
Smiling, she took one last survey of herself, finally deciding on a short sassy hair style like Halle Berry often wore.
“Helmet, Al.” Bridget straddled the counterfeit Ducati. “You better put a dealer plate on the back while you're at it, so I look legal.”
“Done Ma'am.” He confirmed. “Might I suggest you alter your driver's license as well?”
“Good idea.” She agreed. “Make it for Bridget Griffin, age 21 since I might as well be legal with, of course, a motorcycle endorsement.”
“Completed, Ma'am” Alfred said not more than a second later.
“Great!” She maneuvered the bike to the path out. “Let's ride!”
501st Legion
Recon Detachment
On patrol near Upton Heights Acres
Beth scolded the two troopers as they tracked the attractive woman who just rode by them on a fast looking bike. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Oh,” The Sergeant chuckled, “They're open alright!”
The Corporal gave an appreciative nod, going along with the sentiment as they watched the woman zoom out of sight.
“Men!” She exclaimed. “I know I was picking up something unusual, but now it's gone.
“Thanks guys!” She said sarcastically.
The two troopers did a covert fist bump. To see that hot female biker had been worth getting their Jedi a little peeved at them. At least she wasn't a Sith!
However, with the windows up and the A/C blasting, all three missed that the sports bike had been virtually silent, without the throaty rumble it should've produced. The Jedi and Troopers continued to their objective, unaware that a part of their puzzle had passed them by as the first big drops of rain splashed on the windshield.
Her bad feeling just wouldn't go away as she flipped on the windshield wipers. There was a storm coming.
Mrs. Cee
Upton Heights Acres
As she got her son Danny ready for his evening attitude adjustment session, as he called the physical therapy, she considered his friend. On one hand she was so very grateful that Danny had found someone who was so loyal and trustworthy. Trust didn't come easily as far as her son's safety was concerned, but Griffin seemed to know just how much to involve Danny in 'normal' teen activities without endangerment. More, he managed the impossible and made it appear as if he wasn't holding back or making allowances.
She understood that boys needed to challenge themselves, and if she interfered too much, she would be resented. That was why she and Randy let him go to school and encouraged him to be as independent as he could be.
However, the motherly portion of her worried about her son's friend. On one hand he was very mature and had good common sense. His mother, Angela, was beautiful and smart, but her motherly instincts were definitely underdeveloped. That wasn't that big a problem, until you added in the step-father.
Christoper Brown was one selfish, stuck-up bastard. Despite that, he honestly seemed to care for his wife, although some of that could be just a sham to fuel his political ambitions. The perfect husband as the perfect candidate for office. While he did encourage Angela to play the savvy socialite, that was also for the purpose of helping his business and future election plans.
Some of the stories her husband told of Brown's Construction practices showed just how much of a cheapskate, penny-pincher he really was. Perhaps he hadn't been found guilty of sub-standard work, but his 'projects' had a reputation for just barely being within code.
Working Danny's legs, she immediately noticed that something had changed. Even his doctor would've never seen it, but she'd been hypersensitive to her son's health for years. She was aware of even the slightest difference.
The muscles felt stronger and not like their usual lax noodles. His breathing also seemed stronger and more regular. She wondered if she dared hope that the doctors had been right after all. They'd suggested that perhaps puberty could give her son a chance to grow up to become a man.
Up to now, they had waited to see if his body would develop on its own, not wanting to induce puberty due to his very weak condition. The decision window to decide to risk it, or not, was approaching, but just maybe it wouldn't be needed.
As his Mom she was aware of a difference in his attitude too. No longer did he have this unspoken fatalism that influenced his every action. Oh, he did so good at faking being happy, but she was his mother. He knew he was going to die and tried his best to make lemonade from the lemons life had given him.
“That boy is coming up.” Randy said, jovially over the intercom. Her husband often joked that Griffin was one of theirs because of how much time he spent at their house.
She gave her son a look. “A little late for a school night, isn't it?”
Her son's grin lit up the room. “Griff had to run to the store for some stuff.”
“And he waited to the last minute?” She asked.
“We lost track of the time and neither of us thought we needed anything.” He replied with a smile
“Are you sure you want to see him?” Normally her son was worn out by the therapeutic session, but tonight he did appear to have fared better.
“Yeah,” Danny smiled, “We won't be long, and I had a good day too. I don't think just a few minutes will cause any problems.”
“Okay,” She returned his smile unable to say no. “But I'll hold you to that few minutes.”
“Hey, what's up, Mrs. Cee?” Griffin happily greeted her, even though he was more than a little wet from the rain.
The red headed teenager was dressed in his usual cargo pocketed shorts and wet tee shirt which proclaimed “Asteroids are nature's way of asking: How's that space program coming along?” As it clung to him.
Her son's friend, the science nerd who looked like a football lineman, even though he had as gentle a nature as she'd ever seen in a teen. It wasn't that he was meek, but rather he lacked that unconscious competitive aggression men tended to have. Not that women couldn't be aggressive, but usually only in things that interested them, instead of having that drive that they had to the best at everything. Even her Randy had more than a little touch of that with his competing in everything from the court cases he championed to the football pools he played.
“I'm fine Griffin.” She walked to the door. “Remember that this is a school night and don't be long.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Cee.” He replied, obviously excited.
There was a difference to his usual somberness that she'd always assumed was because of his maturity and the coping with his missed grandparents.
However now, there was this feeling of exuberance about her son's friend. Yes, even with the way he moved now.
She didn't know whether to be troubled or happy for him over this new development. Hopefully this meant he was healing from his grief and not falling into some kind of trouble, as teens were wont to do. She decided to keep a watchful eye and hope for the best. It was spying of a kind, but as a parent she had responsibilities to fulfill to both Danny and Griffin.
“Goodnight boys,” She said, shutting the door behind her.
Bridget and Danny goes shopping and it's not for Clothes!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Danny
Local grocery store
Getting off the motorcycle, Danny didn't think he'd ever had a more exciting, confusing and conflicting experience in his whole life. He was so thankful that his maturing body hadn't reached that 'woody' stage. That would've made riding behind Griff feel even more contradictory, however much it'd been a wild rush as they rode though the storm.
Watching his friend, remove her motorcycle helmet and shake out her hair as she walked inside the strip-mall supermarket, didn't help him at all. Her curves were shining in the wet riding leathers. Okay, he knew she wasn't really wet anymore than he was. Their pseudo motorcycle suits only looked as if they came in from the rain. Considering that with the helmets on they were better than any spacesuit ever made on Earth, a little ride in even Tropical Storm Arthur, didn't tax their 'clothing's' abilities in the slightest.
It only took 'Bridget mode,' Griff's disguise, to turn Danny's world upside down.
Sure he'd suspected Griff's secret, but seeing it was something else, for all that his friend claimed it was just protective camouflage. Hell, he was wearing a realistic mask as well, not only to help himself look normal, but to hide his identity too. The difference was, he wasn't any too sure which one of Griff's 'modes' was really the real one.
It reminded him of getting up in the morning and, while still half asleep without his glasses, and everything was out of focus. Before Dr. Otto had fixed his eyes, he'd often been unsure of just who anyone was until they spoke. They were just all blurs. It was when he put his glasses on that, suddenly, they came into focus, and they weren't who he'd first thought they were sometimes.
Griff was like that in a way. First there was his losing that awkward clumsiness, and now, while in 'Bridget mode,' some of his occasional jarring gestures suddenly seemed to fit. It was as if his friend had come into focus as Bridget, motorcycle chick, instead of Griff, the farm-boy. The same person, but 'better packaged' he stole a phase from that online Transgender site.
He was beginning to get the impression that this entire thing might be Bridget's way of feeling him out about the subject. After all, they were both only in disguise right? Just like a Halloween costume, it really didn't mean anything.
However, in this case, maybe it did.
Well, the blogs suggested that simple acceptance was what she wanted, as did her own very casual donning of her own protective costume. From his own experimenting he knew a great deal of thought had been put into her 'look', although their 'Valets' made taking care of the details much easier. Regardless, 'Bridget' was not off the shelf, or for that matter, the cuff.
Perhaps Danny wasn't in puberty, drowning in hormones, but he knew that his friend's 'disguise' was both beautiful and erotic. Walking into the store people's eyes followed the tall curvy woman dressed in the biker leathers. That red hair should look faked with her dusky complexion, but it didn't. There was something about the tone of her skin that made it work.
Treating Bridget the same as he might Griff was becoming more difficult by the second. It wasn't going to be easy but this was his friend. Like the saying goes, 'Do or do not. There is no try.'
Yoda certainly had that right.
Besides, he'd been though the same thing himself. Oh look, it's the crippled kid in the wheelchair. Only a few seemed to get, that all he wanted was to be treated like everyone else. He didn't want or need their sympathies. Life was too short to worry about should-have-beens or would-have beens. Danny was about overcoming his problems, not wallowing in them.
Now he was on the road to recovery, he felt that way even more strongly.
Full steam ahead, Engine Room! Damn the Torpedoes, Doubters and Nay Sayers beware!
“Hey!” Danny cheerfully called to Bridget. “Hold up! I think you left my stomach at the last red-light.”
Bridget
Local grocery store
Speaking of stomachs, hers was in a minor knot. She had no idea of how Danny would take her 'disguise.' However, she was starting to relax. Really, the acid test had been his riding tandem behind her.
Being honest she rather enjoyed having his arms around her. It wasn't that she had those kind of feelings for him, but more she'd never had felt this way before. Her sexuality had always been uncertain, but now was most definitely not the time. Even more certain was, her friend wasn't ready for any kind of romance. She knew all too well how challenging puberty could be. For all of his intelligence and maturity at one level, Danny had more growing up to do.
Well, so did she, Bridget smiled as she turned to him.
“What?” She asked, “Did you not want to ride between the drops?”
“Was that what you were trying to do?” Danny took off his own helmet. “I thought we were going for low orbit.”
'In this weather?” She surprised herself by giggling. “Mission Control would've aborted the shot for sure.”
“You'll just have to be content with 'Changing the Laws of Physics.'” She misquoted Scotty from Star Trek, feeling the eyes of the employees and the other patrons upon her. Just like yesterday when she'd run to the corner store for that phone, she didn't feel self-conscious. She simply felt too right and centered within her own self. Sure, she had to be making 'mistakes' in her presentation. Only in fictional stories did a 'gurl' step flawlessly from male to female. There were simply too many things little girls learned that boys didn't, to make that possible.
“So that's what you call it?” He grinned back at her. “I think traffic control officers might have another description.”
“I did not break any laws.” She replied primly, “And as for too fast for conditions, they have to catch me first to prove it.”
Bridget didn't mention Al's radar detector, nor the stealth qualities of not just her Ducati, but their suits as well. Truthfully, she hadn't been reckless. With that 'bike' and its 'engine' she would've had to work a lot harder at pushing the boundaries, before there was a problem. Being on the outskirts of a tropical storm didn't come close to challenging her or her machine.
Of course it being his first time on a motorcycle considering those same conditions, he probably did find it rather … exciting.
Walking together, she led him to the fresh produce aisle. “Let's buy a few of these so it doesn't look too suspicious while we scan everything. Fresh fruit and veggies are the best.”
Right then, Danny's stomach growled like a wild animal.
“Okay, okay. I give.” She held up her hands in surrender. “We can hit the deli too.”
“Very funny.” He glared at her. “Just because I'm about to start stuffing my face right now, it doesn't mean a thing.”
“I had my own turn playing starving wolf right after I changed for the first time.” Bridget confided, leaning over to keep their conversation private. “What your Dr. Otto is doing for you and what my own talent does takes a lot of energy. It has to come from somewhere. I don't think either of us are destined to be fat or even pleasingly plump.”
The rumble from Danny's gut seemed to agree with her, making him blush as people turned to look at them.
She grinned as her friend was nearly salivating, wolfishly eying the wrapped sandwiches in the refrigerated display case. For her part, Bridget was looking for something to eat too before they headed back home. Going into Girl Mode had used quiet a bit of energy.
Still, she made certain that Al scanned the entire selection. She was a little jealous of his naming his 'doctor' Doc Otto. It was the perfect name. However, that didn't change the fact that she needed to have as many food templates loaded into her 'doctor' as Danny did. Like she told him, she needed a lot of food too to fuel her 'Shaper' power. If she had to eat that much, she wanted a wide variety!
Their hands full of their purchases, they headed to the checkout.
It was after they were outside that they had trouble. Sheltering from the rain and wind in the covered area of the strip-mall, they wolfed down their sandwiches and sodas.
Unexpected vulgar remarks in rude Spanish revealed, that she, they, had a problem. Robert and a pair of his Mexican Mafia Posse were also hiding from the weather as they smoked.
Bridget wasn't surprised at their under-aged tobacco addiction. Although she'd avoided that pitfall and still had a sense of smell, she knew a large number of her fellow students had fallen to the habit. Grandpa Joe called it, trying to grow up too fast without considering the consequences. In a way, Robert and those like him had little in the way of choices as she saw it.
Perhaps Urban Hell Acres school served a fairly well off area, but the Hispanic students tended to be from the poorer parts of the neighborhood. Not all of course, but they did seem to share the same, 'It's us against the world' attitude. The strange part about all of that, is that the first victims in their communities were them being preyed upon by their own people.
In that environment, being older and able to stand up for yourself were survival traits. She could sympathize, since she'd had to grow up fast too. Having to watch your every word and reaction, knowing that being the least bit careless meant being scolded, punished or worse ostracized made one much more circumspect.
That did not cut them any slack for the rude sexual remarks that were directed at her. It didn't particularly make her mad or upset, but it did highlight a glaring deficiency in her feminine arsenal. A girl more accustomed to this would know the things to say and do that would shut them down. Bridget, lacking all of that, was clueless. All she could do was to turn away and ignore them, which didn't appear to discourage them or their crude comments.
Unfortunately, they also had the effect of bringing Danny to the boiling point. Like her, this was a situation he didn't know how to defuse. Being the kid stuck with his 'wheels' didn't teach someone how to deal with teenaged punks trying to prove their debatable manhood.
While she understood that his anger was more about his friend being insulted than protecting a woman, Bridget was at a loss again. She just didn't know how to keep the train wreck she saw coming from happening.
While she and Danny wouldn't be in any danger in a fight, the same couldn't be said for Robert and his posse. With their suits, Bridget and her friend were as powerful warriors as any who'd ever walked the Earth. Strong and nearly completely protected from anything Robert and crew could do with just their fists, it wouldn't be any kind of a fair fight.
That meant it would be so easy for Danny or even for her to make a mistake and seriously hurt one of these kids with the big mouths, who were just guilty of trying to be adults with no idea of what that really meant. Or perhaps they had nothing, but bad role-models which, in the end, meant the same thing. They were teens, more than able to screw-up their own and others' lives without really knowing what the hell they were doing.
That's not to say she did either, but Bridget would like to think that just maybe she had more of a clue than they did. Every night when she looked up at the stars, she wondered what mysteries were out there to see and learn. For her, that was what it was all about.
Danny had finally had enough.
“Let's go over there and shut them up.” He growled, angrily wadding up his food wrappers.
“Sure,” She decided to agree with him. “However, may I give some advice first?”
He dumped the remains of his meal in the trashcan. “Sure.”
“I've been bigger and stronger than all of my peers and classmates for years and now out match most adults.” Bridget said, finishing her own food. “Generally speaking, unless you have a very specific aim in mind, it works against you more than it helps.”
She tried to let him see just how much being taller than everyone else made her stand out, giving their peanut gallery more of a show.
“Like you did with Kevin when he tried to push you around?” Danny calmed down as he thought out her statement.
“Exactly.” She smiled. “He learned that I would not put up with his BS, but understood that if I'd wanted to hurt him I could have. He had to ask himself if messing with me was worth being hurt. Lucky for both of us he decided that it wasn't.”
“This is different.” She gave the still annoying Posse a slight nod. “They're all about how things look and that stupid street-cred-respect crap. Going over there won't change a thing, but perhaps push them into making even more bad decisions.
“Besides this is on me,” Bridget explained hoping he could get it. “I should know how to deal with this with just a few well chosen words. However, I'm new at this, and I messed up.”
“No, you didn't.” Danny disagreed. “They started it.”
“But I did.” She replied. “They're acting just like they've been taught by bad TV and even worse role-models. As a girl, a woman, I have to know how to handle stuff like this. I have a lot to learn.”
There was a long pause as they both realized what she just said.
“Bridget.” Her friend said, softly. “You are my friend and I'll always be yours, come what may. Come on. Let's leave these losers. The future is that-a-way!”
Putting on her helmet, and stepping into the wind and rain, she mounted her bike.
“Let's ride!” She grinned, fiercely.
In a rooster tail of water they zoomed out the parking lot defying the laws of physics, while fully enjoying every moment. If the spray soaked a trio under the overhang, well, accidents happen.
Steven
Over Upton Heights Acres
He was rather glad JARVIS had inertial navigation. Otherwise it would've been problematic finding his way home in the overcast and that wasn't mentioning how different everything looked from the air even without the clouds obscuring the ground.
Cutting his thrust, he let himself fall until engaging his replusors at the last moment, killing his velocity safely hidden behind the privacy fence surrounding his home. Plus, who was he kidding. It was one hell of a rush.
That was balanced by the disappointment of finding the neighboring kid was not back from school yet. One good whiff of his pheromones and, no matter how big the smart-mouthed high schooler was, the kid should be putty in his hands. After all Steven had … plans.
Then he remembered that his target was friendly with that crippled boy. It made sense that given the unpredictability of that storm off shore that they might sit out it together until their parents came home.
Making one kid disappear wasn't that hard. Steven had made detailed plans to cover not only that, but how to keep his Iron-Man suit collection out of the public eye. Besides, it was well-known that the boy had issues with his mother and step-father. Suggesting the kid had ran away was plausible.
Doing the same to a cripple, who was confined to a wheelchair, screamed foul play and would demand a close search and investigation. It was very possible that discrepancies could be found that would lead back to him. That could uncover his and Brian's changes, which would be traced to the MAU. That would not do!
However, he remembered that masked figure had taken 'two' packs out of Steven's MAU. He'd assumed both were for Griffin's own use, but perhaps one had been for the cripple?
A surge of anger hit him again. He'd worked hard for everything he had after being kicked out by his parents with nothing to his name. If anyone wanted anything from him they had to pay for it, no exceptions.
A glance showed Brian was already up. Damn, he should've still been unconscious. However, that shouldn't be a problem. The MAU was well hidden, and, if anything, Brian probably went in to his florist shop. Perhaps he should check and be sure, but time was counting down.
Working parents and others would soon be on their way home. It was possible they already were, given the unexpectedness of the storm. If he wanted his 'payment' it would have to be collected right now. Making up his mind Steven walked outside.
“Scan for unusual energy sources and anomalies.” He commanded his computer as he lifted off. It was still raining hard enough that it should conceal him. Climbing into the low thick gray clouds, the weather conditions didn't hinder him at all.
“Anomaly detected.” His suit reported.
A target lock bracketed graphic of a motorcycle flashed up on his Heads-Up-Display. Underneath in red it read, “No Infrared signatures detected. Anomaly.”
He winged over to intercept.
Danny
Riding tandem
Vicinity of Upton Heights Acres
And he thought the ride to the store had been exciting, he hung onto his friend as they swooped through a curve. Although Danny knew there was no danger of her 'dumping' them, given her 'motorcycle' could hover and fly at need, the illusion was very strong.
It felt as if their very lives were at stake and disaster was only a hair's breath away. It was exhilarating, and yet utterly insane all at once. For all of his sixteen years, he'd been on the very threshold of death, but now that he was healed, here he was risking it all. Perhaps what made it all so exciting was that he now had a life to chance.
He also had to wonder if his parents would be so approving of his friend if they knew what a thrill seeker she really was. Even as Griff, the Farm-boy, he regularly climbed out onto roofs just to stargaze. Bridget however seemed to like living her life even closer to the edge.
However, Danny also could tell, as they zoomed along, that she was carefully evaluating each risk. His helmet display was relaying what her Alfred was telling her about the road conditions and the 'bike's status, which went much further than the old speedometer, gas gauge and oil pressure instrument panel. Their angle of inclination, ground pressure, friction level each tire was experiencing, as well as environmental conditions, were all displayed.
In a way maybe too much information, which was probably why he noticed the problem first. The picture in picture, rear view camera showed a set of red and gold airborne armor above and behind them.
“Heavy on our six.” Danny warned Bridget who, to give her credit, didn't lose control because of their surprise visitor for one instant.
“Hang on!” She sent giving him scant moments to grab on tight as they went to ludicrous speed.
Steven was more confused than ever. Just who in the hell was the woman and the man on the bike?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Bridget
Enroute from shopping
Vicinity of Urban Hells Acres
Bridget had no idea how they had blown their cover, but somehow, they had. Perhaps the Iron-Man suit that he was wearing had sensors able to detect the technology they were using.
How, was a question for later. Now, they had to survive. Going home or to the authorities was out. If he turned aggressive like he did with the Air Force then she would only be putting more people in danger, for all it might force him to back off.
Even as she veered off towards her hiding place in the glade, Bridget knew she'd already made her decision. They would have about as much privacy as it was possible to get around here. She could only hope and pray that Steven would listen to reason.
Her face was still hidden by her helmet, so her Bridget identity was still safe. However, she didn't have time to shift it back to near 'his' normal appearance. At this moment she regretted the vanity that made her show off those female curves, even if they were mostly just padding.
“Al” She ordered. “Prepare a mask for me to show a feminine version of 'Griffin's' face. Can you do that?”
“Most assuredly, Ma’am.” Her computerized valet confidently replied. “I'll use one of the intermediate morph images I already have stored.”
“Danny.” She warned her rider. “I'm ducking into the woods here to hide us.”
“That's not going to stop him from following.” He breathlessly replied, while holding onto her for dear life.
“I'm not hiding from him.” She explained. “This is so we can talk this out like reasonable mature people without an audience.”
Bridget hit the lifters lessening their weight as they decelerated hard turning onto the barely visible path.
“This is Steven 'the Perv' we're talking about.” He objected. “You know the one, who twists everything you say so it benefits only himself?”
“What other choice do we have?” She asked, bringing them to a stop. “Hide out in a crowd and hope he doesn't do what he did with the Air Force and freak everyone out?”
“No,” Danny answered. “That would be bad. That really would bring those MIB's down on us.” He dismounted, watching the Iron-Man armor clear the top of the trees and begin to land.
“I don't trust him either.” She said evenly. “This is the best of bad choices.”
“Just keep close to your bike.” Danny advised. “You have my heavier armor design which will offer more protection than our suits. Be ready to use it, just in case.”
“I hear that.” Bridget replied. “Tango is military speak for the letter Tee like in trouble. If you see anything that looks like he's pulling a fast one, shout it out three times and armor up. I'll do the same. You got that Al?”
“Yes Ma'am.” Her computer replied.
As Danny nodded his agreement too, she let out a long slow breath. At least they were partially protected from the wind here in the glade, if not the rain.
Steven
The Glade
He was more confused than ever. Just who in the hell was the woman and the man on the bike?
However, the computer was correct. It was anomalous. The motorcycle wasn't producing the heat signature a big bike like that should be emitting. As an engineer, he knew heat and friction were two of the biggest design considerations. They each led to other problems which could cause any machine to fail.
That motorcycle was breaking the rules. According to the thermal scans from his excellent sensor suite, even the wheel hubs were producing near zero heat. That was, of course, nearly impossible given that even the best wheel bearings heated up.
Steven blinked as the riders saw him, and the bike accelerated like a rocket despite the lousy weather. His pulse raced as the chase tempted him forward. His boot repulsors kicked hard. The hunt was on!
It was a disappointment when he saw the riders head into the woods. Swooping over the top on the trees, he spotted them stopping by a waste pond that was near to overflowing from the storm. A scum of trash covered the growing runoff waters.
Together the two dismounted and stood by the motorcycle, waiting for him.
It was unsatisfying that he couldn't just drop from the sky in the patented Iron-Man, shake the earth landing. With the ground this soft, he would only bury himself in the soft soil. So regretfully he had to do a conservative touch down. At least with repulsors he didn't have to worry about sucking debris into a turbine.
Turning up the volume on his microphone, he demanded. “I want to speak with Griffin Morgan.”
“Anything you have to say to him, you can tell me.” The tall woman in the biker leathers announced, raising her visor.
The engineer and designer in him was impressed as the face-shield lifted into position forming a visor protecting her face from the rain. The rest of him was disgusted. This, this … person was clearly the one he was looking for. She could've passed as the 'twin' sister with the strong masculine features smoothed not just into youth, but warped into the fat putty of femininity.
Steven's resolve strengthened. He could fix this. Opening his armor's vents, he concentrated on emitting his pheromones. Hopefully the glade would keep the wind from dispersing it too very badly. Last night his experiment with Brian proved it didn't take much exposure to make someone suggestible.
“Then tell 'him' this.” Steven said, coldly as he raised his own face plate meeting her eye to eye. “He broke in and trespassed on my property and used something that did not belong to him. 'He' will return whatever he made and make amends.”
Even as he spoke, Steven recognized the two in front of him had seen something he'd missed. His surveillance hadn't seen them wheeling a motorcycle out of the MAU, and he was certain they hadn't been back and created it today. He'd made certain his property was well hidden.
No, they had made devices that could make other very useful gadgets that were still far above what earthly technology could accomplish. Once again his focus had betrayed and blinded him to other possibilities. It was all the more reason to get these two back to his house and get the most out of the last few operational hours of his MAU.
“I'll pass along the message.” The woman replied, keeping up the fiction that the boy hadn't, for some unfathomable reason, turned himself into a bitch.
“That's not good enough.” Steven retorted. “If you're standing in for him then you're also taking responsibility for what the 'boy' did. I know you're using technology developed from what was taken from my property. You will come with me back to my house and return every last item.”
The girl shook her head, not so much as saying no she wouldn't, but as if trying to clear it. He grinned inwardly seeing that as a sign his 'mojo' was doing it's stuff.
“Yes,” He said pleased. “You and your friend.” The other boy hadn't said or done anything.
Right then, it all fell apart.
Danny
The Glade
Danny had watched all of this with a lot of nervousness. That had changed to confusion when, he saw Bridget wasn't acting quite right. Was this one of her plans?
Distracted by Iron-Man over there making demands, he missed the first blinks of Dr. Otto trying to get his attention. His medical program was on 24/7, monitoring Danny's condition since even cocooned with the protective confines of the suit, his body was still relativity fragile.
After the fifth blink, the audible alarm sounded!
“Caution! Dangerous levels of airborne narcotics detected!” Doc Otto warned.
The list of chemicals, drugs, and steroids ran off his display as he cued it for more information.
“Short answer Doc Otto.” Danny demanded. “What is this stuff and what does it do? We're in a situation here!”
“It's a complicated cocktail of pheromones laced with hallucinogens,and hypnotics.” The medical program replied. “I summarize that it would cause suggestibility, impulsiveness, and possibly sexual arousal.”
“Crap, he's trying to slip us a roofie! Suit us up Jeeves!” Danny yelled out, “Tango, Tango, Tango!”
Bridget
The Battle of the Glade
“Tango?” Bridget's fogged brain tried to process what she was hearing.
“Yes Ma'am.” Alfred responded. “Activating power armor and defensive programs.”
Her motorcycle snapped about her reinforcing her riding suit with much heavier hard plates and defenses.
“Emergency medical protocols engaged.” Her own medical unit announced.
Her veins felt like ice were being poured down them, but the floaty, half-drowsy feeling was abruptly wiped away.
Focusing her attention on her HUD that had reappeared along with her helmet with her armor activation, she cursed.
'The Perv' had lived up to his reputation by trying to drug her and Danny!
Speaking of which, Steven had taken a step back, probably startled by their armor doing its thing.
His face plate lowered, his armor sealing.
“So that's the way you want to do it.” Steven bought up his repulsors. “I can do that.”
A ripple of fear shocked her even as she half-turned, bringing her arm shields to bear.
“Wait!” She tried one last time to reason with him. “It doesn't have to be like this!”
“Then shut down your armor.” He demanded.
There was only one answer she could give and she knew Danny agreed with her.
“No.”
The HUD flashed with warning lights as a sledgehammer-like blue beam sent her flying.
501st Legion detachment
With Collective auxiliaries
Enroute to area of operations
Beth stood on the brakes as a black form hurtled across the rain slick road in a crash of splintering trees. Only her Jedi reflexes and reliance on the Force kept them from growing a new unwanted hood ornament.
She didn't fight the wheel as the van slipped and skidded. Guided by the Force, she danced the van in a un-choreographed production of physics and conservation of momentum. Their dizzying spin lost the last of its energy leaving them upright and parked by the side of the road as if Beth had planned that all along.
“Oh shit!” The Stormtrooper Sergeant spoke for them all. “I think someone started the show without us.”
Looking down the path of broken and smashed trees from which the flying projectile they fortunately didn't see any wrecked structures. Like out of some comedy routine they turned to look in the other direction where amazingly the crashed figure stood.
It was all black and between seven and eight feet tall. A pair of folding wings at the shoulders doubled as arm shields while a large vector thrust unit on the back promised agility along with flight capabilities.
The corporal identified it with a little awe. “SAMAS armor from the Rifts role-playing game.”
Twisting their heads, everyone followed it as it leaped back over the van heading back the way it came. No one missed it unshipping the large tri-barrel gun nor the thunderous roar that drowned out even the storm.
“Everyone out!” The Sergeant shook off his shock. “Kolawaski get a lock on that target!”
“We have a contact!” Beth told Sean over their com-link. “SAMAS powered armor from some Rifts game. It's in combat with an unknown opponent. Here's my location.” She hit the button to squirt him their coordinates.”We're going in.”
“Best to follow the debris path.” The Sergeant said, putting on his helmet, “It's the straightest path to the action, although following the road around might be faster.”
“But that would expose us to being seen by the civilians.” She finished for him, snapping on her utility belt.
“You ready for this?” She asked Danni, who hadn't said a thing the whole time.
“I've communicated with our Klingon warriors.” The Borg woman replied calmly.
“We're fully prepared.” She pulled up the hood of her Vulcan style cloak as her two drones did the same.
“Good,” Beth held her light saber by her side, staring at the broken rough trail. It would not be easy going. “Sergeant move us out!”
Bridget
Battle of the Glade
She used the hydrogen originally processed for use as reactor fuel to rocket her high enough to get a line of sight lock on that ass, Steven.
She was furious at not just him, but herself. She just walked right into the situation that let him gas her. That put her friend Danny in terrible danger.
Danny might've been cured of his fatal disease and had a bio-symboit suit to protect him. However, inside there he was the same fragile boy whose bones and body had yet to recover from years of debilitating illness.
“Al,” She commanded. “Bring up that gun Danny designed.”
“Your weapon has been fabricated and is at its primary standby position.” Al reported not a second later.
She reached up, flipping the tri-barrel into place as the gun's targeting software came online. Adjusting her laser aiming point so all three circles became one she squeezed the trigger.
“We're going to rock!” Thunder roared as hundreds of projectiles broke the sound barrier as they screamed down range.
“Ma'am.” Al interrupted her 'Dakka' moment. “Our ammunition situation is critical. We'll need access to more raw material to continue.”
She watched Iron-Man spin away after her hurricane of death of a thousand cuts smacked him a good one. He sure as hell wasn't out yet. The red and gold armor landed on his feet, bringing up his repulsors again.
“Grab materials between jumps.” Bridget used her vector thrust rockets to viff hard to the right and dropped to the ground. “On the bounce!” She quoted Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers.
Above her, a repulsor shattered a treetop, sending out a spray of needle sharp splinters that only bounced off her armor. Make no mistake, she was in the fight for her life. Just how the hell to get out of it alive was the big question.
“Danny” She radioed. “Break-off and get out of here! I'll try and lead him away.”
Danny
The Battle of the Glade
Hearing Bridget's voice was like the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders. He'd imagined the worst after Steven blasted his friend and she went crashing through the trees.
He'd also discovered that Bridget's invisibility gimmick didn't work very well when moving. It was like the blurry effect in that old Predator movie. Staying still made you damn hard to see, but moving spoiled things.
On the other hand, that had only been after he'd frozen in fright. Confined to his 'wheels' his entire life, this was a humbling experience. Now that he could really live, the fear was like being hit with 220 volts that traveled from his toes all the way up his spine to his brains. He couldn't even breathe.
“You Bitch!” Iron Perv barked.
The crack of splintering trees followed as repulsors spat blue beams at his friend.
Danny turned and ran 90 degrees from them as they traded blows. His fear made his feet light. He had no idea of how far he'd traveled before thought was able to out shout his fright. His own 'backpack' hadn't the materials of the bike to work with. Slowly, it'd been fabricating his own armor on the run.
Thunder roared behind him as Bridget cut loose with another burst from the gun he'd designed.
His heart raced like never before, but he forced himself to stop. He'd faced death before, but that was while staring at the banks of soulless medical equipment that foretold a grim truth. Death was only a few heartbeats away. Today, tomorrow, or maybe the day after, the Grim Reaper was patient, and he was there, patiently waiting to claim Danny.
This was different, but also the same. The fear had to be overcome so he could do what had to be done. Whether it was to live his last days to the fullest and give what comfort to those he loved or, like now, stand by those who had stood by him.
His options however were few. Jeeves and Doc's warnings scrolled down his helmet’s HUD. Despite all of the healing he'd been given, his body was still frail. That fight and his panicked run had stressed his health past the point of safety.
Perhaps Danny had been confined to a bed and chair most of his life, but that didn't mean he was clueless in a situation like this. Books and computer games had been his salvation to his inquisitive problem solving nature. He couldn't fight, but that didn't mean he couldn't help.
“Jeeves!” He commanded. “We need to identify the frequency Target Alpha is using to communicate with the other Iron-Man suits, as well as any active or passive sensors.”
“Frequency acquired.” The AI reported, showing a list of communications and radar data.
“Shut them down, jam him.” Danny ordered. “Targeting sensors are the priority. He's going to frequency jump around so you'll have to be agile to keep up.”
“I'm clear, Bridget.” He transmitted. Boy or girl, his friend had never given up on him. There was no way he would leave his best friend alone and hanging.
Bridget
The Battle of the Glade
Wood exploded as Iron-Man's beams severed a tree in two. She rolled to avoid the falling top half. Bringing up her tri-barrel again, Bridget fired another storm of bullets, but he jetted up out of the way.
She wished Danny had gotten further away, but if he hadn't been screwing with 'The Perv's' sensors, she would be in even worse shape. Running for it wasn't going to be easy. He was just so damn fast!
Unable to lock directly onto her, His repulsors blasted the fallen tree, causing it to smash into her. Knocked sprawling, she used the gravity drivers and her jets to get to her feet.
She was just in time to catch his armored boot in the chest, smashing her to the soggy ground again. Tumbling, his follow up repulsors showered her with mud.
This time she hit her jets hard, blasting muddy dirt right at him and throwing herself far enough away to get some room to maneuver. With his weapons in his gauntlets, he could point and shoot a lot faster than she.
The tri-barrel roared again, but he whirled away, caught on only the fringe of the burst. Besides, it was clear that, despite the high rate of fire, it just didn't have the penetration power to hurt him.
Crack! Bridget felt something break as she was knocked to the ground again by a repulsor double whammy. Unfortunately that was not true of his weapons' ability to hurt her. Maybe it wasn't slicing holes into her powered armor, but it was beating the crap out of her inside of it.
The only thing that was saving her was Danny and Jeeves playing his sensors like a cheap video game. If he wasn't having his systems continuing to crap out on him, Steven would've finished this already.
His kick carried her high into the air to crash into an already crushed stump.
“Stand down and unseal your armor!” He ordered, doing a jet assisted hop to stand there in the rain and mud above her.
“Go to hell!” Bridget retorted, struggling against the pain. Pushing herself up, she bought up her tri-barrel.
“I don't think so.” He replied, blasting her weapon, the repulsor ripping it free of its mount.
“I say again!” Steven sneered. “Unseal your armor!
“We got not one, but three hits off of Google searches.” M replied, tossing him the hard copy folder. “And all three are in the same area as the initial sightings on Friday night. Do you still want to bet that an MAU wasn't involved?”
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Secure facilities
McDill AFB
“I don't know if they came from an MAU or not, M.” Agent G briefed his fellow investigator on the interview. “However, from the data and the debrief, someone has created two sets of Iron-Man's armor straight from the movies.
“After the UFO reports from Friday night, the Air Force guys pre-positioned a pair of F-16s from Homestead. Receiving word that the UFOs had returned, they scrambled an intercept. Since their target hadn't appeared on radar the night before, they had jerry-rigged a pair of targeting acquisition sensor pods to increase their chances of seeing something.”
“I take it that it worked.” Agent M said, closing the folder in front of her.
“The pilots reported intermittent, weak radar signatures,” Agent G nodded, “But not nearly enough to get a radar lock. Even the infrared failed to achieve a lock. Fortunately, this unit was just back from Afghanistan and had upgraded to the latest equipment. The visual system did get a good look at them.”
“Let me guess.”The agent smiled, “Because they were shiny?”
“You got it.” He confirmed. “In theory, the Air Force does have weapons that can target them, but they would not be ones designed for air-to-air and likely not very effective, given the high mobility of our 'UFOs.'
“They out-flew those two F-16's from Homestead which broke off the engagement when they drifted over the city. No shots were exchanged, but Captain Baker reported that War-Machine's shoulder mounted gun did track on his aircraft. I think we have to assume the suits are armed and dangerous.” Agent G finished his report.
“We got not one, but three hits off of Google searches.” M replied, tossing him the hard copy folder. “And all three are in the same area as the initial sightings on Friday night. Do you still want to bet that an MAU wasn't involved?”
“That's not odds I'll take.” He shook his head. “The home office must be burning the midnight oil to get these to us so quickly.”
His partner nodded, knowing that with the moratorium on using data processing systems, someone had to physically look at each and every piece of information to pick out useful data.
“They're taking this Code Critical very seriously.” Agent M replied. “As the military POV for this, how do you suggest we handle this part of the investigation?”
“It's Sunday evening and most everyone will be home.” Agent G pointed out. “If our two comic-book fans have any of that Iron-Man armor that can fly across the room to put itself on them, we might have big problem.”
“I would rather avoid turning this into that kind of confrontation.” She agreed. “Although, with what looks like three separate locations in one neighborhood, we'll be noticed.”
“I know,” He sighed, “How much the home office wants an active unit, but I think in this case, pushing things at this time is taking an unwarranted risk. The smart thing to do is wait till tomorrow when the greater majority of the residents are at work and school.”
“So your recommendation is to do nothing tonight?” She asked, knowing this was very atypical for her military, man of action partner.
“I didn't say that.” He grinned. “We can still check out the area, and I happen to know two Air Force pilots that have aircraft equipped with some very modern sensors that a little rain isn't going to stop.”
“And since we know the addresses we can at least check out the area for impact craters.” She continued.
“Exactly.” He stood. “With luck perhaps we'll be able to narrow down our search.”
501st Legion Recon Detachment.
Near Upton Heights Acres
On patrol
“Looks like tonight’s a bust.” Sean told Beth over their com-links. “But we did fulfill our mission objects and got a good look at the lay of the land.”
“We didn't see anything either.” She replied. “I got a couple of twinges from the Force so I know we're in the right area, but like you said, nothing is happening tonight.”
“We did a little scouting on foot.” He reported. “This is a gated community, and it does have an honest to goodness wall. However, it is more for appearances than security. We can be up and over it in less than a minute. Additionally, one side is open to an inlet, which will let a boat come right in. There is a camera there, but it is much easier to get to than the one at the gate.
“Sounds like that might be the best way to get Dani's representative close enough to do their thing.” His wife and fellow Jedi suggested.
“That is, if that disturbance out in the Gulf doesn't change into a tropical storm.” He pointed out. “Although, if our promised 'assistance' is a couple of Klingons, they might actually prefer the 'invigorating' weather and being up to their armpits fighting the skeeters. It's always good to be of assistance to our allies.”
That was a polite lie as they remembered the tension of that first Con where the Trekkers and 501st had met. It had nearly broken out into violence, but with a little help from the Force, common sense had prevailed.
“They might at that.” She laughed, “But it's probably better to hope for good weather and plan for worst. Neither Dani nor Darla would appreciate tramping though a Florida marsh. We'll leave that to you and the Knob-Heads.”
One of his troopers muttered something about 'good' training, which almost made him snort. That was a term you only used for the most miserable and unpleasant of experiences. However, that was what training was for, to prepare you for the worst case scenario so you could be at your best when things went belly up.
Hearing the unmistakable sounds of military 'fast-movers,' a fighter jet, up above the rainy clouds, Sean suspected they weren't the only ones out looking for Iron-Man. It was a not so subtle reminder that, for all of the Collective and Legion's 'neat' toys, the Federal Government always had the larger toy box, even if the contents weren't as 'spiffy.'
For all of their sakes, he hoped the two that had found that MAU were only having some fun, but then got in over their heads. More importantly, if the damn thing stopped working already, it would be best if they hadn't gone crazy with the changes they could make to themselves. Although, at least for the worst cases, Emmy and Dani were willing to help out and 'fix' things.
However, he was increasingly getting that bad feeling which didn't bode well one damn bit. Behind that wall something bad was growing. Perhaps it wasn't the Dark Side, but just ordinary people had always proved more than capable of doing evil.
Steven
Upton Heights Acres
Steven grinned as his boyfriend entered the MAU. Perhaps he hadn't gotten the mind-control to work, but he had figured out how to return it to the original compact form and then back to the operational booth. On the plus side, after he'd tweaked the pheromone thing, that power worked almost as well as the mind-control. He could incite anything from attraction to out right lust. Regarding Brian, a drunken-like fugue in which he was suggestible worked best.
There were obvious problems. One was, it was the shotgun approach, which didn't let him target just one person in a crowd. He had to get them alone first, although perhaps just emitting a little 'attraction' might help things along.
So the project, while not a great success, did have its achievements.
He was still thinking of Griffin.
Tonight was proof of concept. Brian had willingly accepted all of his proposals for a new body. A few were things his Little Florist had balked at before, so he could tell that his new modifications were working.
As a safety precaution he added a device that emitted the pheromones inside Brian's armor, since it being an environmental sealed unit, it would prevent him from controlling his boyfriend if suited up.
Steven wasn't that foolish!
Maybe Brian's suit was less powerful, being an earlier Mark, but any Iron-Man suit was a force to be reckoned with.
The MAU's door opened, making him smile. There would be time tomorrow for getting even with that annoying teen. After all, there would be a window of opportunity between when school let out that he would be at home all alone. However, right now the delightful creature inside who looked up at him demanded all his attention.
Shrinking the MAU to its compact form and taking his transformed boyfriend by the hand, he took both of his prizes into his house.
Danny
Upton Heights Acres
“Hey Griff!” Danny greeted his friend the next morning, as the drizzling rain threatened to turn heavy.
Never had he had such a restful night's sleep, or had awakened so energized. A quick consultation with his Auto-Doctor, Dr. Otto, get it?, assured him all was well. Repairs to his body's infrastructure, stunted due to his 'burden,' were continuing apace. However that process also meant he needed building materials and fuel.
Danny was hungry. No, he was starving!
Maybe his Mom could miss seeing changes last night, but he knew she would notice this. However, it seemed she was happy enough to see her son rested and happy, instead of worn-out from a fitful sleep, that she didn't ask if there was a cause.
Even his appetite was a matter to celebrate as far as his parents were concerned. Honestly, he had questions about all the medications he usually took, but Dr. Otto simply replied they'd been disassembled for their useable components and the rest discarded with the rest of the 'patient’s' waste byproducts.
So for once he was full of energy and ready for the challenges of school. He'd just enough time to read just one more of those replies to his query from last night.
“The world really needs more people like you! It is very hard for those with gender 'difficulties' to talk about it to others. It is even harder to take those first steps to do something about it. I think you confronting your friend would send the wrong message. That's why I'm recommending you take option C, 'quietly supportive. When she, assuming the friend has been presenting as a male, starts to feel you out about how you feel about the subject, do your best not to make a big deal about it. Simple acceptance is what we all desire.
“Hey!” Griffin grinned as he sauntered up to him while they waited for Danny's Mom to take them to school.
Danny sighed, clearing the display and seeing his friend was still moving, 'differently.'
“Did you get the phone stashed away like we planned?” He asked. Last night, after he'd come back with the phone he'd purchased, they'd reprogrammed and prepared it to call Brian while they had alibis with being in class.
“Yeah I did!” Griff answered making sure they couldn't be overheard. “With my memory, I picked out a trashcan that won't be picked up until mid-morning, making it look like someone made the call and then dumped it.”
“I hope this works.” Danny whispered. They did not need Iron-Man coming after them.
“Me too.” Griff replied, “But we had to do something. I saw what he talked Brian into changing into last night. He could've passed for a junior high student.”
He definitely had the feeling the Farm-boy wasn't telling the whole story. Knowing what little he'd seen of past changes, Danny really didn't want to know. It was enough that they were trying to do the right thing and warn Brian about the expiration date on the MAU.
“There's something else you need to know too.” Danny hoped he was being diplomatic.
“What's that? Another emergency?” The red head inquired as the van's ramp descended.
“Don't know.” The boy in the wheels replied. “Might be.”
“Well, give.” Griff whispered so Danny's Mom wouldn't hear.
“You're moving, walking, differently now.” He returned the whisper, but stopped from saying anything else as he was lifted inside and seated.
“When did it start?” Griff asked as they began their drive and had a little privacy.
“I saw it yesterday,” Danny answered, “But it really became noticeable last night after you came back from your shopping as well as this morning.”
“I guess I'm not much good at this acting stuff.” His redhead friend sighed.
“You kinda used to move like a truck.” Danny tried to explain. “No one in their right mind wanted to get in your way, but now you're moving a lot smoother.”
“That was me alright.” Griff snorted softly, “Bull in the china shop.”
“I was trying to be tactful.” Danny smiled at the image.
“I'm just being truthful.” The Farm-boy said, ruefully. “It's those 'issues' I talked about yesterday.“
“You boys okay back there?” Danny's Mom interrupted them.
“We're fine, Mom!” He rolled his eyes. “Just talking guy stuff.”
“Just as long as you two aren't cooking up some kind of mischief.” She replied over her shoulder as they stopped at the gate.
“Who, us?” Griff made a his best angelical and innocent face.
“You two can't fool me.” His Mom laughed. “Just because you don't get in trouble, doesn't mean you're not up to anything.”
“It just means we haven't been caught.” Danny finished his Father's favorite line that been used when his sister Pam was still living at home. What the hey, it'd been true!
After they'd all stopped laughing Danny's Mom added, “Griffin, all humor aside, I want you to know if you ever have problems at home, our door is open, Okay?”
“Sure, no problem.” The Farm-boy replied a little embarrassed.
“And speaking of problems, “She continued. “This storm has strengthened into Tropical Storm Arthur. Now it's supposed to pass us by and just relieve the drought we've had, but it wasn't supposed to be a tropical storm either. So be prepared to leave school early if the worst happens.”
Both boys nodded. With Danny's transportation difficulties, getting him loaded up while in the middle of a rush of other parents trying to get their kids too, could be a real mess. That was not adding the probable torrential rains and wind from Arthur if it came ashore near them.
They didn't have a chance to say anything else as they stopped at their school. Between the strengthening rain and wind as Griff tried to shield his friend as they waited for the ramp to lower, they were too busy staying dry.
“Have a great day, you two.” Danny's Mom waved as she ducked back inside her van, also trying to keep from being soaked.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Cee” Griff waved back as they began their day of classes.
Mid-morning
Unidentified waste refusal container
Exactly as programmed, the pre-paid phone came to life. Normally it lacked the memory to perform the task designated by its owner, but other functions had been ruthlessly compromised to allow it to do just this one thing.
Ringing the number, it sent the text that had been loaded the night before. The entire process took less than a minute. It's task finished, the battery overloaded, cooking the insides, but not hot enough to cause a fire.
A half hour later the waste disposal company's trash man winkled his nose at the strong acidic smell that came up as he opened the can.
“Woo!” He exclaimed, glad for the rain and wind which took the stench away. “And I thought I didn't have a sense of smell anymore.”
Without a second thought, he upended the can into the garbage truck, sending the phone on its last journey.
Secure briefing room
MacDill AFB
“This one is our best bet.” Agent G tapped the images Captain Baker and his wing-man had taken the night before.
“This one of the three is several blocks away, but the other is right next door.” He counted off the reasons why. “Neither one of those shows any signs of disturbed ground.”
“This one doesn't either.” Agent M tapped the image he'd singled out.
“Ah,” He smiled like a hunter going in for the kill. “No, it doesn't have obvious indicators like a crater, but according to my intelligence analyst friends here on base, the ground of this place has been turned. The technique was developed to help find where enemy bunkers were being dug.” Agent G explained.
“As much as I want to play my normal role of Devil’s Advocate, I have to agree.” She admitted unwillingly. “A Face-book search reveals that the owner Steven Dewitt, is the CEO of a robotics consultation firm, who also has several engineering degrees. Additionally, the other occupant, Brian Tucian, has master's degrees in botany, biology, and genetics.”
That was one of the reasons why he would fight to keep her as his partner. She knew when to break the rules. The Agency's moratorium on computers was a major ham-stringer, but M was smart using their other Alphabet Agency's ID's to get the important stuff like this.
“Additionally,” She continued, “The other two properties are owned by a lawyer and a construction magnate with political ambitions. Neither one shows the kind of interests behind those armored suits. Curiously, both of those households have teenage boys, who go to the same school and are both honor roll students.”
“Really?” He raised his brows not impressed.
“I don't mean two nerds who are members of the chess club.” She smiled at her partner. “We're talking about one kid who has an incurable disease, but has an IQ that's plain off the charts, and the other, who is larger than you. And I don't mean fat either.” She smirked at him.
“Football player?” He inquired, wondering if the kid should be recruited.
“No,” She said, still smiling, “He was raised by his grandfather, a Vietnam era Special Forces veteran. His scholastic records suggest he'd been taught a few things by his grandparent. No real trouble, but he did immobilize two of those football players of yours without injury to them or himself.”
“Vice-principle's private notes.” She answered his unasked question. “I too have friends in the area.”
“So the two kids saw the MAU come down or witnessed it being used, and did a computer search.” Agent G summarized.
“And since the ill boy hasn't announced he's been healed by a miracle, we can make the guess that they haven't used the MAU themselves.” M added. “They both showed up at school this morning without any obvious modifications.”
“Maybe.” He temporized. “You know as well as I that some of the changes aren't always noticeable. However, I provisionally agree with you. If that kid is as ill as you say, then I think he would've had that miracle you were talking about.”
“It is possible they're playing a deeper game.” Agent M said. “Griffin Morgan has discovered and named several asteroids using only very basic instruments. Daniel Cole is the author of several popular mobile applications and other computer programs. They're both child prodigies who've never gotten the chance to shine because of their situations.
“However, with that said,” She shook her head, “I can't see the Cole boy not changing himself if he had a chance. Imagine, Steven Hawking as a teen already confined to a wheelchair. As for Griffin Morgan I don't know. You know as well as I do the ways people change themselves with these things have entire clinics of psychologists baffled.”
“I know.” Agent G replied. “Some of it I can understand, but most of it puzzles the hell out of me. However, now that we have narrowed it down to a single address what do you say we go and give them a visit?
“I thought you would never ask.” She stood, securing their files. “I always wanted to meet Iron-Man.”
Brian had long come to terms that he liked for his partner to take the lead, but that did not mean they or anyone had the right to walk all over him. Someone was about to learn a very hard lesson about underestimating and messing with this 'florist.'
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
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Chapter 11
Brian
Upton Heights Acres
He rolled over, still suffering the effects of the previous night. Never had he ever had an experience like that before. His entire body had hummed like a high tension line, actually making him pass out because of the pleasure.
Even now he felt nearly overwhelmed by it all. It took all the self-control that years of martial arts had given him to move at all. At least he'd had enough sense to call Marge at his shop and let her know the boss wasn't coming in today. Dragging himself out of the bed, he stood before the mirror, a bit shocked.
Just how in the hell had he let Steven convince him to change into this? Forget getting carded like he'd been his whole life. The damn Truant Officers would want to know why he wasn't in grade school!
Showering was a hell of an experience too, given how sensual this body designed by Steven was. One thing was for damn sure. He was changing this as soon as he could.
Brian had long accepted the truth he liked his 'partner' to take the lead and perhaps he was even a submissive. However, he saw that as a gift he could bestow or take back. It was all about trust. That was precious commodity he gave willingly, but it was still his to give.
Steven was charming and if not perfect, he fulfilled a lot of Brian's needs. However, since that damn alien box had come into their lives, his lover had not only crossed the line, but kept stepping all over boundaries he should not.
He wouldn't pretend that he didn’t have his own issues or that the alien device didn't have its temptations. Even his bit of experimentation while very freeing, didn't convince him to throw away all he and Steven had invested in their relationship. That was too important to him to just discard, no matter his own carefully hidden desires.
No, instead Steven had thrown it all away all by himself.
Another surge of anger hit him when he saw his phone had been turned off. His not so significant other after all, had to have done that after Brian had used it last. Perhaps it was 'only' a florist shop, as his boyfriend dismissively called it, but it was still his business.
Checking the messages, his anger only grew as he read one particular text message. A quick search of Steven's computer showed the engineer had neglected to wipe his privacy information and so it was easy for him to find the exact search string that was used, as well as the results.
“A week, my ass.” He muttered under his breath reading that the device worked only for three to four days.
Knowing now the device was called a MAU, he vaguely recalled Steven had figured out how to shrink it back down into a small box. Normally he gave his boyfriend a bit of slack, but since he was already considering changing that relationship he went immediately to the engineer's study. He knew about the surveillance system Steven had in the house.
As much as he might only be a life sciences major, that did not mean he was stupid nor unable to make a computer dance to his tune. It took him only a few minutes to find the footage where Steven had hidden the alien device.
Then, with a smirk, he erased that footage and turned off the system. Someone was about to learn one very hard lesson about underestimating and messing with this 'florist.'
Agents in route
Agent G's death grip on the armrest didn't make him feel one ounce safer as M weaved in and out of the heavy traffic, while their wipers failed to keep the downpour from obscuring their vision. Yet another peal of thunder rang out as more lightning flashed, which didn't help things either.
It didn't matter that Tropical Storm Arthur had formed weeks before the official hurricane season was supposed to start. What was important was that it was here now and was keeping him and his partner from their investigation.
The only good thing was that the bad weather was starting to interfere with the power grid. That was a good thing for a pair of agents who might want to bend the rules on searching for an item vital to national security.
He was thrown violently against the passenger door as M whipped into an opening, advancing them another car length towards their goal.
That is if they made it there at all, he amended. He'd had airborne insertions into hostile territory under fire that were less nerve racking than this.
Abruptly, the racing traffic came to a standstill. Expertly braking in spite of the lousy road conditions, M brought them to a stop. That could not be said of the speeding driver behind them.
Already braced, the airbag wasn't quite as bad as running into a wall, but it still wasn't good. Forcing his brains to function, a quick check showed they were both uninjured, but a further evaluation made him realize they were well and truly out of the game.
Their car had been shoved forward by the Buick that had rear-ended them, hitting yet another vehicle which in turn had rammed another. Sandwiched thoroughly in the traffic they weren't going anywhere.
Just to put the finishing touch on everything, M grabbed his arm, pointing at the waterspout that had dropped out of the stormy clouds over the bay.
“Well crap!” He cursed.
Griffin
Upton High School
The day had gotten exciting, and not in a good way. Just before lunch time a tornado watch for their area turned into a full fledged warning. It'd halted things at school for a while, as the administration debated what to do.
He was rather amazed that common sense overcame their natural butt-covering when they decided not to close the school early. All that would do would be to send more people out into hazardous conditions. Heck, in most cases schools were the best constructed buildings in the area, often doubling as hurricane shelters.
Besides, after discreetly checking with Al, the reported tornadoes and one waterspout weren't very close and were headed away from them. The whole thing made him kick himself for not making a contact lens version of the visor's display. It was fine for Danny, who normally wore glasses, but he never did. Starting now would cause problems, although he had fixed that bit with outside observers seeing the operator's eyes reading the display.
A simple program made it look as the reader was only looking straight ahead. Danny, of course, had immediately modified it to change the innocent image into joke like over large eyes and some other humorous stuff.
It'd also given him a chance to further modify his disguise program by having his suit stiffen itself, making it harder for him to walk and therefore, hopefully, make himself walk more like he had before his MAU change. He based it off the NASA exercise suit for orbiting astronauts which provided resistance to movement and helped fight the debilitating effects of Zero-G.
By lunch time the excitement over the tornadoes had ebbed and his new revised 'fat' suit got its first work out in the most brutal of all scholastic settings, the lunchroom. At his old school it wasn't so bad. The various groups pretty much kept to themselves. Here, each clique was much more aggressive about the pecking order. It also meant open season on any of the loners.
Griffin supposed that, technically, he was one of the nerds. He'd even gamed a little old fashioned Dungeons and Dragons with them, although his playing a female barbarian put some of them off. They had some really strange ideas about women, but he'd gotten his role-model from Grandma May.
Perhaps it was because of his mother's poor example, but his Grandmother made certain he understood that a woman could be strong in ways a man never could be. Such as how to bend with events like the willow in a storm instead of breaking, as well as standing up straight afterward without compromising your beliefs. It was that strength that let her compliment Grandpa Joe and, to his mind, that was what made their love so long lasting.
However, he doubted they intended on him using that ideal as a role-model for himself. Of course his different point of view made him the outcast again. Perhaps that was why he usually kept his gaming to the more anonymous online variety now.
Maybe because Griffin was so lost in thought was why he stumbled over the foot put out to trip him. Robert, one of the school's Mexican Mafia, had a very unpleasant grin at the surprise on the big redhead's face.
However, Griffin didn't fall. Perhaps he didn’t have the reflexes of a trained mixed martial arts fighter like Gina Carano, who he partly based his feminine alter-ego' appearance on, but he did come close. Performing a mad dance he kept his footing. He didn't even spill his food, which was a minor miracle despite that alien machine's improvements.
Everyone laughed of course, but he didn't think it worth pursuing the matter. Robert and his hombres made some unkind remarks in their dialect of Americanized Mexican Spanish that would've had Grandma May, with her strict rules on grammar and pronunciation, whacking all of their knuckles.
Griffin had not fallen, and he'd seen the estimation in his audience's eyes evaluating that fact. Big and agile wasn't a combination most bullies were fond of courting in their victims. He would even hedge a bit that he was still 'moving' oddly which was probably what singled him out as a target. He would have to work on that some more.
But while he was willing to let it go, Danny was more upset.
“They're just going to get away with it.” His friend whispered furiously, as they made their way to the nerd table.
“They usually do.” Griffin replied. “That's the nature of the beast. Not too smart, but you have to respect their animal cunning.”
“That doesn't make it right.” His friend glared at the lunchroom monitor who was content not to address the issue.
“No, it doesn't.” The redhead agreed. “But unless anyone else tries something else, I'm content to forget about it. Okay?”
Danny nodded grudgingly, but Griffin could see this wasn't over yet.
Sighing, he eyed the food that had been deemed healthy by a committee that didn't have to eat it. Just to make things perfect all everyone else wanted to talk about was the UFOs, which was a subject he wanted to avoid. This was turning out to be such an 'interesting' day.
501st Legion
Diplomatic Detachment
Beth wasn't sure who she expected, but it certainly wasn't Dani herself and a pair of Collective Drones, as well as a bevy of Klingons.
“Sorry for the size of my party, but we had to be certain we had everything on hand to take care of this situation.” She apologized.
“Away Team,” Sean coughed dramatically even as the Klingons glared at him.
“Klingons are not Red Shirts,” The leader of the warriors retorted. “We had to come in answer to your … dubious marksmanship.”
Sean grinned at the reference to the stormtroopers in the movies being infamously bad shots. It was even a Trope on the internet about the Imperial Stormtrooper Marksmanship Academy. However, honestly, in real combat it was almost that bad. He'd heard that in WWII it was reported that the average solider fired two shots for every enemy that was hit. Personally, he believed that was way too optimistic a figure, but that was historians for you.
“I hope you'll find that our accuracy has improved,” He said and added diplomatically, “No one is expendable from either of our groups.”
The Klingons nodded, acknowledging his statement.
Dani smiled in agreement with his wife as she gave him her unmistakable 'Men and testosterone poisoning' expression.
The Klingon laughed, clapping him on the shoulders. “Come! We have weapons!”
“We picked up your equipment request from Emmy.” The woman who was the splitting image of Jeri Ryan’s Seven of Nine character explained.
Sean's grin told it all. “Great! Lets get them inside so we can synchronize them with our helmet’s targeting computers. Ion gun characteristics are vastly different from our usual blasters.”
“Really?” The Klingon leader asked, as the others also appeared interested.
“I'll show you once we get them inside.” He gestured to the door while the 'girls' gave them all that look again.
“Boys and their toys!”
Chapter 12
Danny
Upton High School
After lunch, the rest of the day passed more or less uneventfully. That did not take away from his anger at Robert and his hoodlums. The way they'd harassed Griff made him burn.
Although the redhead had laughed it off, it was still a big deal to him. As surely as someone jumping in front of a bus or onto the tracks facing down a train, Griff had saved his life. The physical risk had been very real as much as his friend made light of it. Jumping six feet off a picnic table was not the same as hurling yourself from one rooftop to another.
Okay the guard dog had been anticlimactic, but the risk of being caught most certainly was not. Thankfully, it appeared that they had gotten away with their temporary borrowing of the MAU. After thinking about it, Danny had to wonder how much of their adventures the previous day was just Griff getting them both away from their usual haunts just in case Steven came looking for them.
Sighing, he realized it could've been just what it seemed as well. Only a friend sharing his time on a very special occasion. The first day that Danny could really start living.
Trying to distract himself, he unlike Griff, could use his glasses and tricorder without anyone being the wiser. Remembering how his friend the night before related how he changed his bicycle into a motorcycle, Danny decided his own wheels were due for an upgrade.
It was currently your more or less standard electric wheelchair. His hands had lacked the strength to use a normal wheelchair, although he'd kept most of his dexterity. That had been slowly changing, that is until Griff showed up with his bag of goodies.
Having some fun, he wanted to outdo his friend by a few magnitudes. First he took Griff's motorcycle and worked out a program so as many as the components as possible were reused in that power armor that had been hinted at. Danny figured that wasting as little time as possible changing from one form to another would be at the very least faster and more efficient.
The idea was to provide additional protection and, to his reasoning, that usually meant you needed it fast. With that in mind, he set the transformation to cover the most vulnerable body areas first. Next, remembering about the flying part, he added a sub-mode so that the suit would be very maneuverable in flight. That lead into a dedicated flight form that resembled a flying wing.
Again he sought to make the process where the nanotechnology mini-factory had to change as little as possible. Danny also tried to prioritize the 'transformations,' concentrating on the health and welfare of the 'pilot.'
Then he duplicated the same process, but using his 'wheels' to substitute for Griff's bicycle. Almost as an after thought, he decided if you had mecha, you had to have a weapon. Remembering the Metal-Storm concept where you had one round stacked behind another, he combined that with a gas propellant. Danny reasoned that since the Universal Survival Kit had a Mr. Fusion, producing hydrogen would be easy, and the bullets could be almost anything you could feed into it. With a tri-barrel, design by the time you fired one dry, the next should be refilled and ready to go.
'More Dakka!' Danny chortled to himself referencing a trope where problem solving involved firing as many rounds at the trouble as is possible. Mini-guns, Gatling-guns and all other multi-barrelled machine-guns designed to throw a storm of bullets at your problems were the weapons of choice.
However, he reminded himself to provide some non-lethal options for his creation. He never intended on using it, but with Iron-Man running around he would rather have the design handy just in case.
By the time he finished all of that class was about over, so he set Jeeves to running simulations to find the faults and design problems and fix them. Just saying his computerized assistant's name made him smother his laughter so nobody in class thought he was crazy talking to himself.
Once he'd learned Griff had named his, Alfred, Danny just had to rename his too. Jeeves was a natural, even if not as tongue in cheek as AL, which looked a lot like the initials for Artificial Intelligence. Sure, Lara Croft's butler was named Jeeves, but PC Wodehouse's long suffering valet was named that too. That was where the whole 'Ask Jeeves' search engine had come from, although newer ones like Google and the Collective had pretty much taken over the market.
Just while he and Griff waited for his Mom to pick them up after school, Jeeves had finished the simulations and had even refined the initial idea though trial and error. The pure number of simulations that took was staggering, which reminded him again that Jeeves was an out of this world supercomputer.
The bottom line was, his designs worked great ... in simulation. The real world was another story yet to be told.
The ride home was a little tense with the heavy weather. Danny followed Griff's lead in keeping quiet so his Mom could concentrate on her driving. It wasn't real bad, but adding in the drivers who didn't make allowances for the slick partially flooded roads, didn't help the conditions.
“I hate to ask, Griffin, but would you mind staying here with Danny?” His Mom asked his friend. “With this storm we're short handed at the hospital.”
“No problem, Mrs. Cee.” The Farm-boy answered. “I was planning on staying over anyways. My Mom won't be back from her Charity club meeting until later, and Chris is working late as usual.”
“Good,” She declared, opening the garage door to give them some cover as they unloaded Danny's wheels, using the van's lift.
“Feel free to help yourself to the fridge.” His Mom told them. “Just remember to leave something for the rest of us.”
“Mom!” Danny tried not to whine. “I didn't eat that much this morning!”
“You should've seen him this morning.” Her eyes twinkled in merriment. “I'm surprised he left anything for us.
“Really, it'd only been a regular size meal.” He protested, although he knew her point was that he never ate that much. Of course she didn't know how he'd been eating like crazy today, taking every opportunity to snack. Dr. Otto advised him to continue. It was the old 'you are what you eat' thing. His body needed plenty of building materials to put things right.
“I'll try and hold my own.” Griff grinned.
“Here is his father's and my cells.” She handed the redhead the numbers. “And of course you both know to call if there are any problems.”
“Mom!” Danny complained, as his friend wisely kept silent. “We're not kids anymore.”
“I know that, dear.” She replied, diplomatically not mentioning his disabilities. “However, the unexpected does happen, and TS Arthur is coming closer to us than fore-casted for all, it's to make landfall north of us.”
“No problemo!” Griff never stopped grinning. “It's better to be prepared, even if nothing happens.”
“Exactly,” Danny's Mom agreed, as she got back inside the van to go back to her part-time job.
As soon as the garage door closed, Danny activated his 'suit.' The exhilarating feeling of just being able to stand made him want to dance and do all the other things he'd never been able to do. However, right now he wanted to take a shot at emptying the kitchen. His Mom might've only been joking, but on the ride home, he'd been unable to indulge in the snacking he'd been doing at every opportunity.
He just couldn't get enough to eat, and Griff had only a small variety of food 'templates' to share with Doc Otto. For his whole life, his diet had been carefully watched which meant many foods that most people took for granted were denied him. With his nifty nanotechnology hospital replicator thingie, it could make exact copies of those foods, but make certain they were healthy and nourishing.
However, he also understood what it meant to take care of yourself. That was why he scanned the food he took out of the fridge and then put it inside the 'thingie' to be transformed. After all, the lunch bag looking device used nanotechnology to 'rebuild' one thing into another. It didn't come from nothing. That was why the several bottles of water he'd put in his bag this morning were now gone used as building materials and as fuel to power all the machines Griff had made for them on Sunday.
“You know your Mom was just joking, right?” Griff asked, watching him take out the food to eat. “You don't really have to try and eat everything in the house.”
“She might've been.” Danny bit into a muffin, mumbling with his mouth full. “But I'm starving!”
“I guess you are.” Griff reasoned. “With your body repairing itself as rapidly as it is, it's got to take a lot of fuel.”
“You got that right.” The boy stuffing his face agreed. “Doc Otto is having to slow things to how fast I can eat.”
“You know, it might not be a bad thing to go slow.” Griff replied, diplomatically. “Too fast and you could make the wrong people suspicious.”
“I get that.” Danny said, between bites. “Most of what is going on right now is rebuilding serious stuff like my heart muscles and other really vital stuff. The only possibly visible things are my posture, which is improving, and some muscle tone.
“Doc Otto is still advising me to use the suit to be as active as I can.” Danny repeated his doctor's instructions. “My doing ordinary things is good physical therapy, helping all the medical stuff work better.”
“Well then!” Griff bounced on his heels. “You know what this calls for, don't you?”
“More food?” Danny asked, finishing his plate.
“Grocery shopping!” The redhead's eyes shined.
“Shopping?” The still hungry boy asked. “You mean go out? Haven't you noticed it's raining and storming like crazy.”
“Exactly!” Griff explained. “No one will notice a pair of bikes leaving your house in this weather. Everyone is inside.”
“That's because they want to still stay nice, safe and dry!” Danny replied, “Besides, I don't know how to ride a bike. Remember the only wheels I've ever had? They're side by side.”
“No problem.” The farm-boy grinned. “I've got it covered.”
501st Legion Outpost
Danni
Collective's briefing
“That Air National Guard commander was just trying to find opportunities for his people to fly with the current budget cuts in place. From all accounts he didn't expect for his pilots to find anything. When they did, the incident was too visible and too many didn't take it seriously at first for it to be easily covered up.” Danni explained to her Jedi hosts, as their group prepared to foray into the storm.
“No fewer than a half dozen alphabet agencies have reacted to this. The Agency-with-no-name.” Danni smiled, “Has classified everything up into the stratosphere, but that has only slowed the others, not stopped them.”
“And if I don't entirely trust 'our' MIBs,” She continued, making ditto marks in the air. “We're not even going to talk about the others.”
“So that is why you came yourself.” Beth reasoned it out, as she watched the troopers conceal their armor under rain gear. “We need to resolve this quickly and quietly.”
“Even in the comics, Tony Stark didn't want the government to have that technology.” Danni agreed. “I think it would be wise to follow that same policy.”
“I just hope talking to them works.” Beth said. “It could get nasty if they react as badly they did with the Air Force jets.”
“We will do our best to insure a peaceful outcome.” The Jerry Ryan look-alike replied serenely. “Our aim is to offer assistance if their MAU has stopped working and left them in an awkward situation, as well as warning them of the Men In Black. It's almost a certainty that they will try and confiscate those Iron-Man suits.”
“People are freaking out about guns.” Beth rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine the reaction about anyone owning a set of Iron-Man Armor?”
She recalled the first movie where just the Mark III had taken out a small army, including a tank. What could War-Machine, which was much more heavily armed, accomplish?
Danni only nodded. The Borg Drones and the Klingons clearly demonstrated that she was prepared for the worst, however much she was hoping for the best.
Beth didn't miss the Federation 'dust-buster' phasers the warriors were wearing. At least they weren't disruptors, which lacked a stun setting. That is if the stunning effect would work against the hi-tech comic-book armor.
It'd long been a SF fan's fantasy of matching one fictional universe versus another. Which would win: Imperial Star Destroyer or the Federation USS Enterprise? The list went on and on. Who was stronger, faster or the best fighter; Superman or the Hulk? The Flash or Quick-Silver? Batman or Captain America?
Or this one: Just how effective Star Wars or Star Trek weapons would be against Iron-Man? In the first movie, they saw it take a shot from a tank's main gun! Some might argue that it was a glancing blow or that it'd been loaded with an anti-personnel round instead of armor piercing, but it was still a tank's main gun, a very powerful cannon.
As good as a blaster might be, it wasn't that good. Beth found herself touching her 'elegant weapon from a more civilized age,' her light saber. She was having one of her feelings that she was going to need it.
Looking up she saw Danni nodding again as she held up her hand, extending her 'nano-probe.' If there was a problem, they would solve it, one way or the other.
Steven
In Flight over Tampa Bay
The pure joy of flying was nearly enough to make up for his utter stupidity. He'd left Brian passed out on their bed when he went to work this morning. It was only after he'd arrived at his office and began to work on his current projects, that he realized what he'd done.
Steven had been so intent on fulfilling his fantasies that he completely overlooked the practical considerations of what the technology behind an MAU could mean. It was the old proverb about the difference of giving a man a fish and teaching him to fish. Instead of making Iron-Man suits, he should've had the MAU teaching him how to build them.
Just the insight he'd gotten from examining and using one greatly helped the project in progress at his company. He found himself missing the JARVIS interface, which was his first clue on how badly he'd erred.
In the movies, the 'Just A Rather Very Intelligent System,' was a main frame which was data linked to all the Iron-man suits. He, in his tinkering, had instead, given the impossibility of building Tony Stark's laboratory, settled for a distributed network with each suit being a node.
However, that meant he was without JARVIS's services when he wasn't in a 'suit' and he, being the bigger fool hadn't set up any alternative communications. Steven, however much he'd let himself get fixated on the Iron-Man suits and the mind-control thing, wasn't actually an idiot.
While at work he developed a list of things to 'build' with the MAU, hoping that whatever problems that made the machine balk at the mind-control, wouldn't come up again. Time was getting short and very near the time it would stop functioning.
If even a small part of his list worked, he would revolutionize the robotics field overnight. Once he had the tools to make the tools, Hell, he would change the world!
That was why he'd told his executive assistant he was taking a late lunch, and used his Iron-Man armor to fly home. With Tropical Storm Arthur’s heavy rains and winds, as well as the tornado watch, it was perfect weather, allowing him to fly without having to worry about more Air Force jets or being seen.
His Iron-Man MK 42's JARVIS was tapped into the local air traffic control system, which gave him plenty of warning to avoid other aircraft. He at first had considered taking the MK V 'briefcase' armor to work with him, but it was honestly too limited in capabilities. It couldn't even fly. Fortunately, the remotely operated MK 42 could be carried in pieces and stored in his Jag. All he had to do was operate his car's remote to pop the trunk and then fly the armor out in peices, easy.
Down below, he could see the interstate and the huge pile-up that'd been caused by rubbernecking drivers when a waterspout had appeared earlier. It would've been only poetic if the spout had struck the gridlocked highway, but no, it had disappeared back into the clouds after touching down only briefly in the bay.
Besides, his next door neighbor should be getting home about now. Steven's smile was not nice. He kicked it up a notch. There were places to be and people to do.
MIBs
Stranded in traffic
Agent G was beyond irritated. Their ride was 'crunched' fore and aft. That rental care wasn't going anywhere even if the massive pileup hadn't bought everything to a standstill. The only good news was that waterspout had stayed offshore before it'd disappeared.
By the time the local traffic enforcement officials, the rental company's representatives who were actually based on another continent, the wrecker company, and finally the rental company's customer service had been contacted and dealt with, he had lost any inclination he had for being diplomatic.
Once again their partnership worked, as Agent M smoothly talked their way into a replacement vehicle. She even managed an upgrade by pointing out the 'accident' had been judged not their fault.
Still, he thought, she'd shown her own temper as she 'smoked' the tires leaving the lot. They were hours behind schedule which meant they had missed their window of opportunity to snoop around. The kids would be coming home from school and the working part-time mothers would be with, or right behind them.
This mess had likely cost them their chance at procuring a still active unit. There was a private betting pool among the agents just who would be the first to bring in an active unit. Agent P had so far been the closest, but it was an open secret he'd been at least temporarily compromised in some fashion.
Personally Agent G thought they were all cursed to come just so close and then have success snatched from their fingers. He'd almost come to expect to see Murphy hovering over their shoulders, waiting for a chance to strike.
It was always 'something' that caused them to be too late to get a still working MAU. Again and again, all they could do was try and then help the victims who were casualties of their own … curiosity and inventiveness. Mischievousness though a few were, most weren't.
Knowing human nature he was honestly surprised that someone with less than sterling character hadn't used one of the damn things to turned themselves into some variant of a super-villain. He could think of any number of changes that could give someone a definite advantage in profiting at others expense and make it very difficult for anyone to stop them.
Even with that in mind, that paled beside a Code Critical. It wasn't enough that Mr. DeWitt had recreated Iron-Man's armored suit, but he had to make it stealth as well. It was a one man army and air force all in one package. It was no wonder that both he and M had received strongly worded orders that, if there were 'suits,' the devices had to be recovered.
Unusually, they had been 'called' while in the 'field' which was something which never happened, given the Agency's paranoia. He knew it was because this was one of the few times that they had a chance to recover something that didn't just stop working like a broken toy.
“The Iron-Man devices were powered by a tokamak, a type of fusion reactor, but it takes more energy to maintain the reaction than it actually produces.” Agent M had explained the possibilities to him. “The Tony Stark character had solved that problem, as well as making it portable and safe enough to wear.”
“Well almost.” Agent G had added thinking of the health problems the character had in the second movie.
“But,” She smiled, “He corrected that error, and improved it even more. “The important piece of information is that it was made by a human using more or less our technology. There is a reasonable chance that experts examining it could get that crucial clue they need for us to build them. It goes without saying that the rest of the technology is also of interest.”
Agent G thought that was the understatement of the century. However, he had his doubts about it being reproducible. The fictional Tony Stark was a maverick genius on the order of an Archimedes or a Nikola Tesla. Even in the film, other scientists who were familiar with the larger reactor couldn't duplicate it.
That however, thankfully wasn't his job. Let someone else worry about finding out these things' secrets. They want an Iron-Man suit, so that's what they're going to get. That is if they could ever get anywhere in this rush hour traffic.
His thoughts turned back to Murphy again. “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”
And now the conclusion!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Steven
Iron-Man
The Battle of the Glade
He was not happy, but this was now over. The Bitch was disarmed, and if he had to, he would peel her out of that damn shell. Steven would make things right. He reached for her helmet.
“Get your hands off of her you Son-of-a-Bitch!” A girl commanded.
Now what! He turned to see a lithe form walking along the top of development's privacy wall as lightly as any cat despite the wind and rain. The decorative spikes along it did not bother her in the slightest as she lightly stepped around them. Dressed in a long brown coat and leather knee high boots, she looked to be about 17 and seemed familiar, although he couldn't place her.
“Who the hell are you?” Steven demanded. He was losing patience.
“What's wrong, Big Daddy?” She sarcastically smirked, “You don't recognize me?”
“What the hell?” He choked in surprise, raising his face-shield, not believing his sensors. “Brian?”
“How do you like my makeover?” She hopped off the seven foot wall as if it was nothing. She did a little runner's dance showing off her body. “Nice huh?”
That was not the word he would use. What the hell did his lover do to himself?
“What the hell is wrong with you people?” Steven complained, waving his armored arms. “Why is everyone changing themselves into bitches?” Are you all insane?”
“Insane?” The teenaged girl primly stalked though the muddy battlefield, ignoring the 'B' word. “No.”
“Then why!” He demanded almost pleadingly.
“Try pissed off.” Her eyes blazed with anger. “You drugged, lied, and then plotted to transform me into some pedophile boy toy. I trusted you, and you betrayed me.
“Maybe our relationship didn't mean very much to you, but it did to me.” The woman never once faltered as she weaved a path towards him on the soft soggy ground. Her every step was sure and certain. “You treated me like dirt, and threw all we had together away, no more.”
“Please Brian.” He pleaded. “Let me fix this. Let me change you back.”
“Not happening, Steven.” She glared at him. “I know what your parents did to you after you came out, messed you up, but this? What you did to me, and tried to do to these kids didn't just cross lines, it broke them into little tiny bits. What the hell were 'you' thinking? Kidnapping? Sex slaves? Rape? What's next? A little murder on the side?”
He stood straight. Steven wasn't going to apologize. That was only a weakness. Like everything else in this world, it was only wrong if you got caught, and this didn't count. Griffin was down, and the other one in the woods had the same kind of armor, so he knew he could take it out too. All that stood in his way, was Brian.
“So, what now, Brian?” He locked his face-shield down, but left the vents open to hit her with his pheromones. Not that he expected them to work. He might've underestimated his 'Little Florist' once, but never twice. Precautions would've been taken.
“That really depends on you, Steven.” She stopped, standing a short distance away, loose and relaxed. “Just walk, fly away if you want. This is over.”
“It's not over till I say it's over, Brian.” He locked his targeting sensors on her.
“I don't go by that name anymore, Steven.” She cocked one hip, and smiled “You can call me River Guevara.”
Bridget
The Battle of the Glade
The girl in the Brown Coat skipped cat-like to the side, Iron-Man's repulsor missing by fractions of an inch.
Bridget could only stare as the lithe teen danced though the barely missing beams to land a perfect, powerful martial arts punch square on his chest plate.
“River Guevara?” She muttered, putting two and two together; River Tam, the very agile psychic assassin from 'Firefly' and Max Guevara, the transgenetic feline super-solider from 'Dark Angel.'
Iron-Man went flying, but River didn't let up. She leaped in the air, bouncing off a tree to kick old Shell-Head right in the face.
The combination of feline genes and clairvoyance made Bridget's head spin just thinking of the possibilities. Unlike poor R. Tam or M. Guevara, who had dire problems because of their unique origins, Brian was a very knowledge geneticist. His shop made much of its profit from breeding flower's genetics. If anyone could avoid the problems those two fictional characters had and combine their advantages, it was him, or maybe 'she' was now the best pronoun.
River tumbled behind Iron-Man and swept his feet out from underneath him.
The teen recalled that jaguars, which weighed about the same as an adult human, had been known to drag 800 pound carcasses away. Felines were strong. And fast she added, watching River sidestep another repulsor.
“Here.” Danny offered her a active camouflaged blurred hand. “Let's get out of Dodge. Then she can break off and meet us somewhere safe.”
It was Bridget's time for more surprises when River turned and winked at her. That damn clairvoyance!
“Sure.” She said to her friend. “River can make a run for it after she knows we're safe.”
With a snap, Danny locked her damaged tri-barrel in place as he helped her up. It would not do to have that laying around to be found. With his help she stumbled forward, using her anti-grav to make it easier to move. Her auto-doc was saying she had some busted ribs. She doubted that, without her shaper-fu keeping those bones more or less where they were supposed to be, that she would be able to move at all.
They had almost made it to the wall, when a brighter than ordinary repulsor blast sent River flying, to bounce to a stop in the muddy rain.
“Crap!” Danny cursed. “He used his chest-beam like a shotgun.”
Bridget saw River moving weakly, but still alive. She'd must've mostly dodged out of the way, but getting clipped by any part of that beam was a bad thing.
They didn't have to say a thing as Danny took Bridget's damaged tri-barrel and handed her his weapon.
“You're better with guns than I.” He said. “This one has been upgraded to a larger caliber with armor-piercing shells. It still won't likely stop him, but it will get his attention.”
“Please, you can put your weapons down.” A hand landed on each of their shoulders causing them both to look up and stare in disbelief. “We have this.”
501st Legion
Recon Detachment
The Battle of the Glade
Beth nodded as Danni and her drones moved to the assistance of the two camouflaged armored figures. They appeared to have been trying to leave before their female companion had been hurt.
With so many players it was hard to know who was in the wrong or right. However, the person in the Iron-Man armor, unsurprisingly did seem to be the aggressor. That was why her sergeant had his troopers closing in to give them their best chance with the relativity short ranged ion guns. It fell to her to be diplomatic and buy time.
Well, that was the traditional Jedi role, she strolled between Iron-Man and the fallen girl in the Brown Coat.
“What again!!” He growled, clearly annoyed. “Now, who are you?”
It was Iron-Man from right out of the movies. This was the one that was more gold than red and looked as if he had seen a war with all the gouges, scorch marks and dents.
“Be careful.” The girl on the ground warned as she slowly pulled herself up. “He has pheromones that can induce trances and suggestibility.”
“I'm a concerned citizen.” Beth smiled, as she inserted the breathing filters. “Who is well aware of what a MAU is and what it can do. My friend and I are here to offer advice and assistance.” She nodded to Danni whose face was still concealed by her cloak's hood.
“And if I tell you, I don't want your help and for you go mind your own business?” He snarled.
“Then I'll ask the other involved parties if they feel the same.” She could feel the Force flowing through her as her hand dropped to the light-saber at her side.
“Unacceptable.” He bristled, “This is none of your business. Clear out while you still can.”
“No.” Beth knew what was coming even as he bought up his gantlets to fire.
The trio of repulsor shots were neatly deflected into the swampy ground by her light-saber.
“Now!” Ordered her sergeant.
The squad lunged out from behind their cover, cutting loose with their ion guns. Unlike the stormtroopers from the movies, these shots were dead on target.
“Argh!” The Iron-Man wanna-be dropped to one knee as the storm of lightning washed over him.
“Those two are fine.' Danni stood with her watching the drawn out fight as the armor resisted the attack. “Besides being shaken up some. Both have greatly increased healing talents. They're utilizing a rather unsophisticated, but no less effective nanotechnology.”
With a large 'Crack!' the electrical show ended as the charge grounded out. Now, burned, streaked with marks from the battle, Iron-Man slowly stood, his armor hissing and popping from the heat in the falling rain.
“Was that your best shot, you Bitches?” He demanded, his voice hoarse with effort.
“He's sending for the rest of his suits!” The male teenager warned.
“I do not appreciate that term.” Danni replied, coldly extending her nano-probe knife-like into his armor.
He stumbled backwards trying to bring up his repulsors, but then slowed and froze, the blue lights of his armored helm fading to black although his chest 'on' light stayed lit.
“His access has been cut off.” She explained to Beth relieving her concerns that he'd been assimilated. “I'm flying the other Iron-Man suits to our van.”
“Thanks.” The woman in the Brown Coat smiled.”Let me introduce Danny and ...” She looked at the girl who'd been revealed when her armor had transformed.
“Bridget.” The teenager smiled.
“And I'm going by River now.” The Brown Coat nodded. “I think he went crazy with the power of that alien box.”
“It's not all bad.” Bridget pointed out. “It healed Danny and me.”
“There is much about it, that mankind as a whole is not ready for.” Danni nodded in agreement with the Brown Coat.
“I take it you're not really Jeri Ryan, Seven of Nine?” Danny asked her.
“Like many who've encountered MAU's, I was foolish and made errors.” She shook her head, no.
A roar passed over them as the assembled Iron-Man suits flew over.
“There's one suit that appears inoperable.” Danni frowned, her eyes distant as she assimilated the Iron-Man networked computers.
“That's probably because of me.” River spoke, reaching into her jacket pocket. “I couldn't reach all the suits, but that one was made for the old me. I took this.”
She tossed the glowing, miniature blue arc reactor to the startled Borg.
“It likely won't matter too much if the government guys get it or not, without this.” She smiled. “Besides, I can't fit in the damn thing any more despite how much fun it was to fly. It's too damn flashy!”
“You probably don't have to worry about the MAU we have either.” River continued. “According to the web, its warranty is due to expire any time now. At the most it only has a few hours left. I think that was why he was pushing things so hard because of the time limit coming up.”
“Beth!” Warned her husband over their com-link. “MIBs are incoming. They just passed your team's van, but are taking the long way along the road.”
“We need to go.” Beth signaled her sergeant.
“Please don't mention our part in this.” Danni told the three. “If you need to get in contact with us ...”
“We can use the Collective's web site.” Danny grinned at her.
“Yes.” The Borg replied, making Beth smile. These kids were smart, otherwise they never would've been able to get the MAU to produce working nanotech.
“I think we can come up with a good story.” River added, “With just enough truth to make it sound convincing.”
“We're ready to move out, Ma'am.” The Sergeant reported. “There's not much time.”
“Perhaps we can help each other.” The younger teen girl's eyes sparkled. “I have a plan!”
Agency Operatives 'G' and 'M'
On location
Upton Heights Acres
Agent G felt like rubbing the bridge of his nose. From the moment, he and M found the three muddy teens fleeing down the road, hiding from a flight of Iron-Men, he'd a feeling. He'd done his share of BS'ing the Brass back in his military days, and this felt much the same. There was just enough of the truth to make things hang together, but it wasn't all of what happened.
The three sat on the sofa while the two boy's mothers watched silently. It was a compromise to avoid getting lawyers involved, since the agents had assured everyone that this wasn't a criminal investigation. They were only interested in the MAU's and how to help those who had greatly complicated their lives by using the alien machines.
“So when Mr. Steven DeWitt found you had used his machine without his permission he came after you?” Agent M asked, with professional politeness.
He could tell she was picking up on it too. However, it was much harder to nail them in a lie when it was mostly the truth.
“Yes,” The young boy answered. “We were out, trying out our symbionts in that glade where we wouldn't be seen. That's when he tried using that mind-control stuff on us, but I guess our symbionts mostly protected us.
“These 'symbionts' or yours are the only things you got from the alien machine?” Agent G questioned.
“Yes sir.” The boy answered. “Danny couldn't go over the fence with his wheelchair. So we needed something that would cure him and help him grow stronger. We figured they were our best choice. Once I got over the wall, I didn't have much time, having to mess around with the dog and all. I couldn't be sure how long that dog-treat bribe I'd thrown her would last.”
“At what point did you enter this?” M asked the teenage girl who'd formerly been a man in his late twenties.
“When these two sent me an anonymous message making sure I was aware of when the warranty really ran out on that thing.” She replied. “At that point, I realized that not only had Steven deliberately given me the wrong information, but the other things he'd done became clear too, such as drugging me.
“I was fixing what he did me, when I heard him come in and then go tearing back out.” The ex-man explained.
“Why not use the suit?” Agent G inquired. “It would seem the logical choice.”
He kept his own reservations about the sex changing thing to himself. One of the qualities the Agency looked for was tolerance and the ability to deal with all sorts of people.
“For one, it wouldn't fit any more.” She smiled. “And I've always had issues with my sexual and gender orientation. It helped that I've been so androgynous, but I'd honestly been using Steven's and my relationship as a crutch to help me cope.
“Once I accepted that it was truly over, I had no reason not to follow my heart.” The teen continued. “When he stormed out of the house, I feared he was off doing just what he did. I needed to be a very tough woman to deal with him. I'd learned that the more you know about a subject of the transformation, the more likely you are to get what you want. Steven had to make my suit for me since I know squat about electronics and robotics. However, genetics are a different matter. I spend my time now with botany, but I have Masters degrees in both biology and genetics.
“My choice of Jessica's Alba's Dark Angel character was perfect. She's fast, agile and strong.” The teen aged looking woman explained. “Since I was looking for something to complement my martial arts background, Dark Angel played to my strengths.”
“I see.” Agent M, dug a little harder. “So you fought off Mr. DeWitt, who was in the Iron-Man armor?”
“Fight is an exaggeration.” The girl ruefully replied. “He kicked my butt all over that glade. I kept trying to buy time for Griff and Danny to get away by dodging around the trees. He just blew them to splinters with his beams or shot them with his gun.
“He kept going on about changing me back.” The girl shrugged. “I guess he couldn't accept I'm not the way he thought I should be.”
“You mentioned he was firing a gun.” Agent G pushed some more. “Was he in the Iron-Man or the War-Machine armor?”
“Oh, is there a difference?” She gave them both a wide-eyed expression of innocence.
“War-Machine is the silver one with the big gun on its shoulder that played tag with the Air Force over the weekend.” He dryly explained, certain she knew exactly the difference between those armored suits.
“Oh, that one!” The teenage girl nodded. “Steven was in the gold one with red highlights. Then the silver one with the gun showed up. That's when I ran for it and and the boys found me. The other suits then showed up looking for us. I think he was running them all by remote control like out of the movie.”
“Why do you think he broke off his search?” M asked, obviously getting the same vibes he was. “It appears out of character for him to just give up.”
“I don't know.” The girl shrugged again. “It could be he saw you and recognized you were government or he realized that alien box thing's timer had run out. Since he wanted to use it on us, that would've ruined any plans he had.”
“There is that.” Agent G had to give her the point. It'd been hard keeping the sour look off his face as they found yet another 'dead' box. That'd been partially balanced by the Iron-Man suit, even if it was missing the power pack. At least he and Agent M had something to drag back to the office, which was more than most agents had.
“You've picked the rather unusual 'River' as your new first name.” M asked. “Is there any significance to that choice?”
“I like watching 'Doctor Who' on BBC America.” She smiled. “It's from the character River Song from that series.”
“Thank you.” M used her people skills to make their exit. “We'll be in contact to conclude the rest of your legal issues. You're very fortunate that you can still pass as yourself.”
“It still won't be a lot of fun.” The new girl replied. “Guys who look like teens can have it tough, but they're not treated like they're helpless. However, all the years of martial arts that I've taken should help keep trouble away.”
“As for Danny and his miracle cure.” Agent M told the boy's mother. “We'll arrange for a change in doctors who won't ask too many questions.”
Agent G noticed that she didn't mention that being a feline hybrid super-solider would make that a painful lesson for any 'trouble' who tried. Even with that, neither he nor M thought the girl provided a threat. If anything, he thought the office should seriously consider recruiting her. Then again, the reason why she wasn't a threat would work against her in that role. For all of her abilities, she simply didn't give him the right vibes for the work. She was just what she presented herself as, a very intelligent introvert, happier working with her plants and flowers than people.
On the other hand, she, and the boys as well, were still keeping secrets.
Back in their replacement rent-a-car, he carefully watched the Air Force Security cops through the thumping windshield wipers as they moved the disguised suit of armor into a truck for transport back to MacDill and then headquarters.
“So how much of what they told us was nothing, but BS?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the operation for a second. The Agency wasn't going to be happy Iron-Pants was out running loose with a half dozen suits.
“Not so much in outright lies, but certainly not all the truth.” Agent M answered. “I think someone else was involved, if only because of that van we saw on the way in.”
“We made a mistake not getting ID'ing the plates.” He admitted. “But we needed to get to the scene fast.”
“We very well might've saved them.” M pointed out, gesturing to their conservative suits that was the government's unofficial uniform. “Those suits were out looking, and despite our rental, we have 'government' written all over us.”
“True.” He agreed. “However, the area is so drenched and battered from the rain and winds of this storm, just forget about getting any forensic data. I've passed on though official channels that all the damage was caused by a twister setting down.”
“It does help that the storm will wash away any evidence that it wasn't a natural phenomenon.” M nodded, agreeing with the cover story.
“That's very convenient for them.” He grunted, unhappy. “I think those symbionts weren't the only things the boys created with the MAU, but our scanner and search didn't turn up anything.”
“I didn't notice anything that seemed out of place when we were shown where those suits had been kept.” She admitted. “However, it should be noted that all three are extremely intelligent. It is very possible they planned and designed whatever they made to be undetectable. However, I'm still inclined to think they're not any kind of threat.”
“They have the potential.” He sighed. “But like you, I don't think they are. As smart as they are and with whatever advantages they got from that machine, I hate to think of the trouble they could cause, but I don't think they will. They just don't have that mindset. Of course it might happen anyway, but I don't believe they will go looking for it.”
She flicked the car's lights, acknowledging the Air Force Security policeman's wave that the cargo was loaded and the truck was ready to move out.
“They don't think he'll come looking for them since the MAU is inactive now.” M pulled away from the curb, following the truck full of guards. “However he might come after this last suit if he is as much a control freak as he appears.”
“That's why I think they know more than they're telling.” He checked their blind spots, keeping situational awareness. “They seemed strangely unconcerned about him reappearing and if he really was a threat, I think they would've been more concerned about his possible future actions. Instead they seemed to discount him being any kind of a problem.”
“So you think they know something that guarantees he won't be trouble?” She focused on possible driving hazards. The worst of the storm may be over, but the conditions were still bad because of the downed trees, power-lines, and the flooding.
“It fits what my gut is telling me.” G grunted, scanning for trouble. “However, I don't think they killed him, but I do believe that something happened that makes them think he won't be a difficulty in the future. Not that I'm going to take that for granted.”
There was no need for them to say anything else. They were a team.
River's home
Upton Heights Acres.
There was a very unpleasant tension in the air as the Mothers stared at the teens.
“Hey, don't look at me that way!” River defended herself. “If I'd known they'd wanted to use the thing, I would've found a way for them to use the front door.”
“Only after trying to talk them out of it. I never wanted to use it myself.” After some more hard stares at her, she clarified the statement. “When I did, it was only to heal things that there is no other way on Earth to fix. “
“I thought you were the responsible one.” Griff's Mother had her arms folded as she gave her son the 'look.'
“How could you risk using something like that?” Danny's Mom demanded of her own child
“Mom,” Danny interrupted Griff before he could answer. “It's was easy. I was dying. It was all over but the funeral.
“We know you would've let us in,” Danny said, turning to River. “We talked about doing it that way, but we knew that would put you in a difficult situation. We did the cat-burglar thing as the best of bad choices.”
“I see you standing and walking around?” His Mom asked, on the verge of tears. “Are you really healed?”
“Yes.” He nodded, hugging her tight. “And no. I am healed, but I guess you can say I'm in physical therapy. My symbiont is doing most of the work, but its making me work hard just the same. I have a long way to go before I'm all better, but it's a start.”
“Truthfully,” Her tears couldn't be held back. “If I'd known, I would've been on that roof breaking in too.”
“You know.” River smiled at the mother and son. “The front door really does work.”
“And what's your explanation?” Griff's Mother still had her arms folded.
“You mean why did I take such risks when I wasn't dying of a deadly disease?” He asked, with a sad smile. “Maybe it was because I've been slowly dying for years. It all began when everyone called me 'Little' Griff because of my father. As much as I loved him, I am not him! It doesn't matter how much I try, but I'm still judged on my appearance and not on who I really am.
“I can change the way I dress and behave, but I can't change the genes that make me look like a clone of my father. Showing my family heritage is one thing, but having expectations of being someone I'm not isn't possible. That is, until I saw that MAU land in their backyard.”
There was a moment of silence.
“May I see what you really look like?” She asked softly.
River held her breath wondering how much her friend was going to reveal. Even the government guys didn't ask exactly what Griff was doing with the suit he had. They assumed he simply made two symbionts for convenience's sake.
With a nod he began to, the best word, was deflate. Griff kept his height, but lost that unmistakable muscular masculine build. If anything, he looked like a sixteen year old boy instead of being able to pass for years older.
She was a little disappointed that Griff didn't reveal Bridget, but she did understand why. It was a little easier to come out as gay than it was as Tee. However, she also knew that all of it was a very personal decision.
Watching the mother unfold her arms and instead wrap them around her child, River smiled, acknowledging that sometimes there had to be baby steps before you could run free under the sun.
It was a start. A time for new beginnings not just for them, but for herself too. She'd truly loved Steven, despite how pissed she still was at him, it hurt … a lot. The Collective had assured her no harm would come to him, but had appreciated her suggestion of what to do with him.
“An elegant solution.” Danni had remarked.
“It's more than he deserves, and keeps him out of everyone's hair, as well as a relatively guiltless way of keeping him out of trouble until the time comes that he can be dealt with as needed. He really does need help, even if that doesn't make what he did and tried to do any less wrong.”
The woman who looked so much like Seven-of-Nine agreed.
River got shocked from her introspection when she got pulled into a group hug by the two mothers.
“You saved our boys from that lunatic!” Danny's Mom smiled. “We won't ever forget that!”
“You can count on it!” Griff's Mom agreed. “Besides, unless I miss my guess you'll need help and time to 'settle' in. I think know the perfect ladies to help you into 'our' world.”
“I think you do.” She hugged them back. “New beginnings.”
Government flight
in route to CLASSIFIED
Agent G wasn't certain when it first began. Neither he nor Agent M had gotten very much rest on this mission. The flight would seem the perfect opportunity to catch up on some much needed rest and sleep.
Instead he found himself unable to look away from his partner. He'd long admitted she was easy on the eyes, but he wasn't about to jeopardize their partnership with any insinuations of an intimate relationship. Perhaps if someday in the future when their careers placed them in positions where they weren't partners and yet close enough to see each other, well, maybe.
They were too good working together to ruin a good thing.
However, he just couldn't look away. G hadn't felt this way since high school when he'd first discovered girls and had a crush on Libby Gunn.
Then M looked up at him, their eyes meeting.
They both blushed red, but neither could look away.
The next thing he knew they were kissing and the clothes were flying.
Neither one knew that the seals on Brian's Iron-Man suit had never been closed and that the residual pheromones were still in concentrations high enough to effect the main cabin. Rather fortunately, while the crew were 'discomforted,' it was not sufficient to affect their job performance.
It was enough that, when they observed how 'enthusiastic' their normally very self-controlled passengers were indulging in intimate activities, certain protocols went into effect. The crew immediately went to non-circulated air and the Agency was notified.
The rather exhausted couple were surprised by the haz-mat team that greeted them upon landing. Even less welcome was the very invasive examination and quarantine that followed.
Weeks later, the administrator reluctantly signed the order for item 74656 to be sealed away. It was obvious that it was still contaminated even after cautious attempts to decon it without damaging the interior. That contamination had proved to be powerful, and made studying the recovered piece of technology hazardous.
However, she had to admit that G and M made a lovely couple at their wedding, for all that she loathed losing such an effective partnership of Agents. The medical reports suggested they had imprinted on each other since they already had enjoyed a friendship and mutual respect.
The decision to keep them as agents or move them to desk jobs was still pending. No matter... they would no longer be partners. Since they were like a pair of love-sick teenagers, that would be awkward given the professional impersonal image the Agency tried to portray.
However, while G and M were off on their honeymoon to magical Tahiti, there was still the matter of Mr. DeWitt. In spite of the problems the contaminated suit had caused, the Administrator recognized they had also been lucky. Both parties liked and respected each other beforehand, which meant, despite their intense sexual reaction to each other, they still saw their relationship as a partnership.
It was a sign of how dangerous this Iron-Man wanna-be could be. Someone who didn't respect the others who'd been exposed to that pheromone, could twist the other so very easily. She rather hoped that her agents were correct and he wasn't a threat. However, that didn't keep her from signing the orders that mandated him to be treated as armed and dangerous regardless of the circumstances.
Bridget
A few months later
Major SF and Gaming Convention
River and Bridget giggled like crazy as Danny couldn't decide if to strut with them on his arms or blush madly.
“You were the one who wanted to come as 'Captain Tighty Pants.” River teased strutting beside him. She was dressed in a similar fashion as Zoe Washburn if not as that character. “If you're going to talk the talk you have to walk the walk.”
The months following their new beginnings had seen Danny fill out dramatically as his body healed and put on much needed weight. She and River too, had become more comfortable in their new selves.
Bridget smiled, content to just do the walk. The Con was full of other costumed Cosplayers including one of the most amazing Autobots she'd ever seen. The 501st Legion was out in force, showing off their costumes and marching skills. A couple of Klingons stood nearby, clearly unimpressed with the stormtroopers' martial skills. Giggling, a clutch of gaily dressed Magical Girls were staring at Captain Tighty Pants, err, breeches.
She gave them a wink which caused them to break out into outright laughter. Oblivious, Danny glanced around wondering what had caused the sudden laughter, which only made them laugh harder.
Joining the laughter, she and River pulled their befuddled friend along. Weaving about and gawking at the happy Con-goers, they reached the 501st's bivouac area.
“So that's him?” Danny asked, looking at the large silvery slab.
“Yeah.” Bridget nodded. “If you look you can tell its not Harrison Ford at all.”
“Well,” River gave a sad smile. “He always did enjoy showing the world his perfection. This does keep him from harming anyone and allows for times to change until he can be dealt with appropriately.”
They all nodded remembering the arguments. 'The Perv' would need to be stripped of his 'changes' at the very least. Apparently the Collective had crossed over a line once when dealing with an outsider, and there were things they would not do again. However, Steven had done his best to do one of those same kind of 'things' to Danny, Bridget and River. That, they could not ignore. On the other hand, he had days of memories which would have to be potentially wiped which was problematic. A few minutes were one thing, but that long was another. The memories would've already moved into long term, making them all the more difficult to alter.
Added to that was Brian's change into River and her flat refusal to put up with him anymore. Maybe he would forget, but she most certainly could not put aside how the power went to his head as well as the abuse.
He couldn't be trusted to stay silent if they chose to just take away his enhancements. It was a no brainer that the government would freak if they knew that the Collective and the Legion had unlocked MAU's.
“Now, his body is displayed for all us lesser mortals to worship.” River finished with perhaps just a little of the hurt of their failed love in her voice.
“In perfect Carbon-Freeze hibernation.” Bridget remarked, with no little animosity. She'd never cared for him, and his attack on her and Danny had done nothing to change her opinion.
Danny kept silent, although Bridget knew he didn't have a high opinion of their would be enslaver either.
“Steven.” River sighed. “I'd like to say I miss you, but honestly I don't. The part of me that needed you has been fulfilled by being what you've always despised, a girl. I'm not really a woman yet, but I'm growing and learning all the things I missed out on while pretending to be a gay boy.
“My florist business has expanded into the space program, with me breeding air plants which really live up to the name.” She smiled. “Several large investors have been interested, given how much such living air scrubbers could cut costs, but also actually help prevent the mildew and other problems the International Space Station is experiencing. Not bad for a florist, huh?” She smirked.
“These two knocked the socks off the judges of the Science Fair and that's only the start.” She took a deep breath. “When I think of what you had in mind for them, I still get mad. With you and your ego, there was room for nobody else's ideas. It was all about you. I don't think you could ever accept that they could and have surpassed anything you could've developed.
“Perhaps the best punishment of all will be when you are at last awakened and find out just how all of us have moved on.” She sighed. “The best revenge is living well, and not a cold dish at all. I cared for you and want you to get the help you need, but you'll get no more from me.
“Bye Steven,” She turned and walked away with her friends arm in arm.
Agent Q
Major SF and Gaming Convention
He walked up to the quite realistic looking Han Solo encased in Carbonite display. As a major Science-Fiction and Fandom fan, he gave the sculpture a professional appraisal. The design was very well done, but he could see that the face really didn't look much like Han Solo's.
Officially he was one of the Agency's Lab rats, and not a field agent, but he'd argued he would have attended anyway. What was the harm of him keeping an eye on a few subjects of interest since he was here?
He was very carefully briefed to observe only and take no actions. Cheerfully, he agreed. Who was he to complain when the Agency was picking up his expenses!
Besides it'd been easy to follow the three Brown-Coats which identified them as fans of Joss Whedon's FireFly series. One had been in drag, but that wasn't too uncommon for a Con. He was more curious why they had spent so much time in front of the Han Solo sculpture, but nothing really stood out. For just a second he wondered if it could be the real thing. Certainly stranger things had happened when MAU's were involved.
However, checking the readout display revealed a concealed, but standard plastic cover used to hide good old fashioned D-cell batteries.
“These are not the power-cells you're looking for.” Q chuckled and quoted. “No trouble here. Everything is fine. Move along.”
He turned to see who was singing. It was, of course, the three Brown-Coats.
They were actually pretty good, if not quite ready for American Idol yet. Other Con-goers were stopping to listen.
A few had their phones out to record the impromptu rendition of the Firefly theme song. Q made a point of reminding himself to try and get a copy. What they lacked in polish, was made up by their passion.
A few others from the crowd joined in with more enthusiasm than talent, but that just added to the raw emotion of the occasion. This was one of the reasons why he loved the Fandom so much.
The End
Ira was just like you and me until the impossible occurred, twisting him and all he loved. Now there is only survival, but if he ever gets the chance ... Revenge!
Warning Mature Material
Preface: Yes, I know unusual for me, but that damn muse of mine had other ideas. You see, I came up with this idea last week while working on several other stories. Wanting to reduce the uncompleted backlog that despite my efforts that's getting larger and larger, I only jotted down a bare outline to preserve the idea. However, that was not meant to be. Totally inappropriate sex scenes began appearing in my work. After confronting said muse, she stubbornly refused to see reason. I did what legion of other writers have done, I surrendered. I knocked this out in three days at an average of 3K words a day which for me is a blistering pace compare to my usual speed of the snail writing. Because of the material I considered not posting it because it makes me uncomfortable. I even thought about using another name. However, right or wrong, I decided to go ahead and bite the bullet. This is not your usual Grover story. It is dark and profane, but hopefully now that this is out of my system I can get back to what I was doing!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. Very special thanks goes out to Cathy who went though this story line by line with me, immeasurably improving it. Any mistakes are all mine.
Just how do you describe a life changing event? I’m not talking the small stuff, this was the deadly serious kind of thing. You know a flash of light as your existence ends? Maybe, the sounds of Angels singing as the Rapture begins?
It was really none of those things. Just another day out walking the dog, feeling more than a little discouraged over being out of work. Oh, yeah, I’m Ira Forest. The sun was shinning, and a few high clouds that took on shapes my imagination teased into Lions, Tiggers, and a fantastical cast of others.
We were almost back at our apartment when Sassy, our Pomeranian
mix, lost her little doggie mind. She went completely nuts barking, and lunging at her leash. From what I could tell, the entire apartment complex animal population did too.
My wife and I’d lived in worse, but this place was better than most. The majority of the tenants were like us, lower class middle and struggling. More than a few of those were college students complete with the young’s selfish disregard for others. Being on the older side, I really preferred the peace and quiet, and not the weekend long, late night parties.
In a frenzy, Sassy broke free and took off like a rocket. That was the last I ever saw of her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to chase after her, but that I couldn’t. Like a robot I turned and walked to one of the apartment buildings.
I couldn’t fight this, and honestly didn’t want to. It was as if I had no will. Like I’d somehow started sleepwalking while wide awake. All about the apartment complex, others joined me. Some were dressed, while others obviously stopped whatever they were doing like showering to come with us.
Kinda half aware this wasn’t right, I observed we were stopping in front of this apartment where, this rather skuzzy looking guy lived. Having a dog to walk, I’d gotten to see and meet a lot of the people who lived here. Mr. Skuz moved in a few months ago, and I had him pegged as a student. He’d never responded to any of my friendly waves, but I frequently saw him lugging in armloads of books.
However, the guy standing out front didn’t look a thing like the skinny, premature balding student. No, this dude was at least six foot and built like a Greek god. His eyes, I swear, glowed they were so blue and his blond mane reminded me of Orlando Bloom’s Legolas from LOTR.
It was the set of his mouth that worried me though. It wasn’t a sneer, but it was something really, really more unpleasant. Glancing back up at his eyes, the coldness behind the glow made me swallow in fear. This was so not a good thing.
I saw Lynn, my wife, and whatever compulsions we were under didn’t keep me from drifting over to her. I was afraid I knew what kind of trouble we were in.
Unemployed, and fighting depression, I tried to keep myself busy doing something I loved, writing. One of the biggest reasons for my mental hang-ups was my gender identity problem. Thus, in trying to make sense of what I felt, I wrote and read Transgender fiction as a way of exploring all of this. One of the stories I’d come across was, Master Control Program, by JR Parz.
In the story, some computer geek with a chip on his shoulder, gets sent a computer program that let him change reality. It had a range limitation, but within its radius, the owner could shape people’s forms and personalities any damn way he pleased. The series was very popular with a lot of other authors borrowing the same universe and ideas.
Standing here, not of my own will I feared for Lynn and myself. It was one of those times I was really, really wishing I was wrong. I wasn’t.
His deep voice rumbled, “Well, hi there everyone. How nice of you all to come by and visit.”
Those icy blue eyes passed over us, making me shiver. Then they locked onto one of the girls who must’ve been showering before being summoned.
Nastily, he said, “Hey look! She’s not wearing anything. Let’s not make her feel bad. Since all of you are dressed, I can fix that.”
Then, abruptly, like some magic trick, all our clothes were gone!
I so dearly wanted to do many things right then, but could only stand helpless. To my dismay, I couldn’t even reach out to touch my wife’s hand, for I feared much worse was coming. Once again, I was right.
In mock drama he screwed up his face in disgust. “Ewww! Wow, have some of you gotten hit with the ugly stick! But hey, don’t worry I can fix that too!”
Only able to close my eyes, I sent a silent fearful prayer heavenward. “Oh Heavenly Father please deliver us from this evil.”
I’d few illusions left in my life over my appearance. It’d never pleased me, but now, in my mid forties I knew my naked body wasn’t much to look at. My poor wife was in much the same situation. Overweight, and cursed with poor genes, her beauty was in her heart and soul. My greatest triumph was that I’d the wisdom to truly see it, and the courage to ask her to marry me.
It was as if reality itself trembled as he spoke, “First, lets make all of you female and 20 years old. Second, because I have standards, you’ll all be 36-24-36 plus/minus 10% based on your genetics. It’d be creepy if all of you looked the same.
“Next, since you’re all here, let’s have a party! You’re now very sexy ladies who’re horny all the time. Dressing and acting sexy feels really, good, and you all like feeling good right?” He said, with that same nasty sneer.
“To make sure no one tries to duck out of the fun, none of you can stand being alone anymore. Being with all your new sisters, dancing, grinding and partying makes you feel safe, secure and happy. What feels good is all that’s important to you now. No need to think or worry about tomorrow, just what feels good right now. Having sex with whoever I want you to is great, but you’ll always come back to me and your sisters. Of course being with me is the best thing that’s ever happen to you. I‘m your Man, and all you bitches belong to me.”
Dead! We were all dead, from personality death if nothing else, when he rewrote us with this new programming. I’d wished be, a beautiful sexy woman, but just the old saying said, ‘Be careful what you wish for, you might get it.’ In desperation, I began the Lord’s Prayer:
Laughing evilly, he bellowed, “I know how to do this! So it is said, let it be done!”
Blinking though long lashes, I looked at the petite, brown hair girl next to me, while trying to think. Unexpectedly, a pair of hands grabbed my butt. Wiggling sexily, I pushed my rump back into their grasp. I found myself smiling as I began dancing with the petite girl in front of me. It all felt so good.
Our Man laughed lustily, causing me tingle all over. “Now that’s more like it! Let’s move this party indoors and get some music going!”
He herded us into his apartment.
Some part of me was aware that the inside of the building was no longer divided into six different apartments. Now the whole thing was like the inside of some playboy’s mansion.
The music began playing, and I lost all thought. I could only dance, lost in the overwhelming bliss of being surrounded by my ‘sisters.’ I was sorta conscious that things were still changing, but I could only really focus on the ‘now.’ Touching and being touched filled all my senses. I was foundering in this riotous sea.
Then another compulsion, hit me. My Man wanted me. Making my way out of the twisting and giggling mass of women, I found him. Like a king, he reclined on huge leather sofa while a blond enthusiastically went down on him. Two more girls were topless, curled up in his arms passionately making out.
My head buzzed, conflicted with all the feeling and sensations that assaulted me. That petite brunette stood next to me, and I’d somehow cleared my head enough to know she to had to be Lynn.
“Hello girls!” He snickered, “It’s time for a little fine tuning makeover.”
His eyes roved over both of us. “Damn girl, but don’t you have a fine ass!” He said to Lynn. “I remember you. I’ve seen you all dressed up on Sundays. You go to church every week don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, sounding as out of it as I felt. Having your brains scrambled will do that, I guess.
“All prim and proper weren’t you?,” He leered evilly, “Well no more of that! Let’s give you platinum dyed hair with the barest suggestion of dark roots, and just look at those melons! They’re beautiful, but far too respectable. For someone like you they just have to look fake. This well-spoken shit has got to go too. From now on you’ll have a dirty, filthy mouth, baby. One last note, you have such a great ass, let’s put that thing to use. You just love taking in the rear door baby. Just like all my girls you love sex anyway you can get it, but in the ass is really special.”
Then he clapped his hands together, “We’ll call you Ass-lay, Done!”
She shimmered and changed.
Long full bodied, blonder than blond hair flowed nearly to her ass. Her natural full breasts rose up in the prefect hemispheres of large, too firm fakes. However, it was her attitude that shook me.
Rubbing her altered bosom with one hand, while stoking her butt with the other, she moaned, “What the fuck do I have to do to get my brains fucked out?”
Whatever part of me that still lived cried, as she was lead away, back to the mindless dancing on the floor. I should’ve been trembling in fear, because it was my turn to face Our Man, but instead I was numb. I had much worse secrets that someone so sadistic could take advantage of. Perhaps that what saved me.
“Well looky here! It’s Mr. Friendly, the dog walker. I think by the time I’m finished you’ll be real friendly.”
He paused, studying me. Maybe he was just trying scare me, but after what he’d done to my wife I felt nothing but icy cold. If I could’ve moved I’d tried to rip his head off, but there was no rage. I focused on remembering every second of this. Perhaps the Klingons had a point about revenge is best served cold. I couldn’t do anything now, but if I ever got the chance …
Finally he declared, “First, you are too tall. For what I have in mind I think about five feet even will work. On the other hand, I do like the red hair. You’ll have a long, thick, curly blazing red mane. Because of that, we’ll name you Blaze.
He rubbed his hands together. “Now for the good part. You used to be a guy, but there’s only one Man in da’ house, me. Just so you know it, Blaze you have a oral fixation. Fellatio is the fancy word for it, but another is cocksucker. Not only do you suck cock, you love it. We’ll give you some extra sensitive thick cocksucking lips just to make sure you enjoy it.
“Like all my girls you love sex, but having a nice big tool in your mouth is an extra-special turn-on. Oh yeah, to make sure you swallow, you’ll love the taste. Hell, you’re a cum connoisseur, but you’ll never find one you don’t like. Just ones that drive you more crazy with desire, like mine.”
He looked me in the eye, “Done.”
The world went away.
Slowly, I came awake. As I did, I became aware of a huge tidal wave of memories. A lot of time had passed. One endless, party-like orgy and an equally endless stream of men. Cocks. The very word made me squirm. Licking my thick lips, they tingled with desire to glide them over those pulsing shafts.
“What the Fuck!” That thought really woke me up.
Sitting up, my large, unrestrained tits swayed sexily. A ping of pleasure flowed though me at the very notion. At the same instant, a vague alarm warned, ‘this isn’t right!’ I started to tense up, but an unknown voice tried to comfort me. “Shhh, Blaze, it’s alright. Just give it a moment.”
I was in a rather upscale hotel room. The smell of cigars and stale alcohol clung to everything… and sex, it stank of sex. Looking down at myself, there was that gorgeous set of tits again. They seemed huge with well defined pink areolae and big prominent nipples. Trying to ignore the pleasure the very idea that all of this was giving me, I discovered I was wearing a shiny, wet looking, black tube top pulled down around my waist.
Staring in disbelief, a little, and I do mean little, was a mini skirt of the same material pulled up to my waist. Out there in plain sight was my pussy. Very obviously that stench of sex came from me. I could even see the dried leftovers, but for some reason that didn’t freak me out. Just looking at that clean shaven pussy caused another tremble of pleasure to touch me. It was sexy. I was sexy, and that was so very good.
Knowing that, despite how it felt, this just wasn’t right, there was another woman on the bed next to me still asleep. She had a wild mane of dyed platinum hair, and, like me looked, recently fucked. Her clothes had a leopard pattern motif going from her five inch stiletto heels to the choker she wore.
A memory surfaced of her getting banged in the ass, as she screamed her pleasure to fuck her hard. However, as she slept, even with the remains of the heavy sluttish makeup, there was a innocence I recognized. This was my wife.
Hanging my head in sorrow, I lightly touched her discovering my own outrageously long pink nails. Glancing down, I found I was wearing patent, leather, platform calf boots with ridiculous six inch stiletto platform heels. It was all too much making my head spin.
I began crying, because I’d gotten what I’d always wished for. It’d destroyed me, and the woman I loved more than life itself.
Again, I heard that voice saying, “It’s not that bad, hon.” Arms hugged me.
“How can you say that? Look at us!” I winced at the sound of my own voice. It had a breathy lisp that phone sex operators wished they had. I replied, turning to look at her.
Unlike us, she didn’t look like a whore. I guessed her age at her early thirties, and she was well dressed. From her brunette hair to her shoes, this woman projected style and class, instead of cheap sex.
“You could still be under his spell like her,” she said
With tears still falling I implored, “Can you help her? She’s my wife.”
Wiping tears and smeared makeup from my face she said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t. You’re unique, because your learning disabilities and Aspergers you process information differently most do. His commands were less effective on you because of that. Along with your gender identify issues, your brain didn’t shut down from being forced to act this way.
“That’s why I could reach you.” She explained. “Your wife is different. A part of her simply couldn’t deal with what was done to you two, so although, she walks, and talks, most of what makes her Lynn is in a coma-like state.”
She tried to reassure me. “That’s not necessarily bad all things considered. It’s a way of protecting herself from all of this.”
I looked at her. “So why did you wake me, and while I‘m at it, who the hell are you?”
“I’m not going to tell you my name.” She said with a sigh. “This is really not for your benefit, but something had to be done. The man who did this is Christopher Bern. I don’t know how he gained this power, but he has. For the last few months, I’ve been trying to tease at the edges of his boundaries looking for a weakness.”
“So Agent 99, how long has it been?” I asked afraid of the answer, but needing to know.
Holding me tight, she answered after a pause.
“Six months. I’m sorry but you’re the only flaw I’ve found so far. He’s new to this and has made mistakes. Rather than wiping out all your memories, he instead imposed restrictions on you for how to act and behave. More importantly his ability to change reality has a range limitation.
“However, he has found a way around that by using you ‘girls’ to extend his range. He can project his powers though you at a considerably greater distance.” She said, reaching for another handful of tissues.
“Do you know how far?” I asked, sniffling.
“I can only give you a rough estimate. Finding out for certain would mean putting myself in danger. It’s about a mile in radius. It’s somewhat less dangerous near you since he has to focus on you specifically. So far he can reach out to you from approximately five miles, but can only effect a few yards around you. It might be greater with two or more of you girls together.
“I do know he’s been expanding and exploring his power. He’s made minor changes in local government officials, as well as blackmailing others. We desperately need to know where his powers come from and how to turn them off.” She said, wiping my face again.
“So I’m to be a spy?” I asked, hanging my head.
“Yes and no,” She said shaking her head sadly. “You see Christopher’s biggest mistake is you girls. By using his powers though you, also gives you access to him. That should let you tap them too, but you’ll have to be careful because he might be able to feel you doing so. In truth, you’re a saboteur. I don’t dare try and contact you again. It’s simply too dangerous for me in case he discovers you.”
“You’re not doing me any favors are you?” I said, taking a deep breath, staring at my wife.
“Even if we somehow break him, we’re not ever going to be the same are we?” I asked sorrowfully touching my wife. In her sleep, she moaned gently in pleasure making my point for me.
My mysterious benefactor shook her head, “No,” she confirmed sadly, “His mental commands and the physical transformations which reinforced those, has burned their own neural pathways. The best that could be hoped for is therapy to dampen the worst of it. Of course, my organization has resources that can do much more than anything you’re familiar with.
“That’s if we can even stop him. If we have to go in guns blazing, I don’t think many of you are going to survive. It’s a certainty he’d use you as shields. If I’ve learned anything about Chris, he’s a craven coward. That’s why he sits right where he is, sending you girls out to do his dirty work.”
“And all the sex he makes us have? Is that necessary?” I asked, becoming aware of my own arousal.
“Strictly speaking no.” She shaking her head. “It does help him of course with the blackmailing, and most people are vulnerable on any number of levels while climaxing. However, with his power, he doesn’t need to. He likes to debase others.”
“So he’s an insecure little shit who gets off on the power of humiliating others?” I summarized, hurting inside.
“That sounds about right.” Agent 99 grimly agreed.
After a moment’s thought, I asked, “So there others out there, like you who have power above that of normal man, but not like Our Man. You telling me, there’s no one able to directly contest him or there’s reasons that would be inadvisable. You’re trying to find a way to take him down without calling in the Marines or worse a nuke.”
“You’ve got it.” Again she nodded.
“You do know I’m not going to be much of kamikaze, right? I’ll give my life for her, but otherwise I have too much to live for,” I said.
She took my other hand. “More than anything I want to get all of you out of this alive. It may not be possible, hell it probably isn‘t, but we have to try.”
Thinking about a mission that if you decide to accept, and being disavowed if you fail, I asked, “Any suggestions how best proceed?”
She stood gathering her purse. “For now, do nothing. Try to feel the power as he uses it. Watch and see if you can find the source. Depending on what and how he’s been empowered will decide how best to strip him of it. We’ll be watching and if we see a chance to help, we will.”
“So go in, keep low, find out what his secret is and play it by ear. Oh yeah, you might help and you might not.” I said.
“And don’t get killed or worse found out. That would be bad,” she said, walking across the room towards the door..
“I got that part.” I said sarcastically, nodding my understanding. Considering what’d he’d done to me so far, Our Man being mad at me was indeed a bad thing.
“Be ready, I’m letting her wake up,” Agent 99 said making a strange gesture with her hand as she left.
Did she just do what I think she did? Sighing, I put it out of my mind. I’d enough things to think about. Sitting on the bed, I felt as if the whole world rested on my shoulders.
“Damn, but that was a good fuck last night!” Ass-Lay exclaimed, arching her back under my hand. With an insistent grip she pulled my nipple down to her lips.
Pleasure sparked though me like a live wire. “Aww Shit, that’s good!” I exclaimed as my body reacted like the well lubricated fuck machine it was built to be.
The hotel staff looked down their noses at us as we left the elevator. Ass-Lay and I strutted arm in arm across the lobby, our asses swaying in well screwed satisfaction.
She was a little taller than me despite my six inch platform stilettos. Dressed in her shiny leopard tube top, even her belly button piercing also had a spotted design. Even her big hoop earrings and bangles had the leopard theme. Add in her too perfect tits, and she was the perfect picture of the stereotypical whore.
Not that I was much better. Neither one of us were wearing underwear. That meant my tits were jiggling and bouncing around like a pair of playful kittens under that wet looking top of mine. Yeah, my nipples were easy to see as they traced a crazy jig jag underneath the fabric.
My own jewelry was done in jade, even though the little I was dressed in was black. A pair of small studs were in my upper set of earring holes, while the other three piercings sported larger ones ending up with the big, green, open oval ones which danced from my lower ears. A jade half moon dangled from my belly ring.
While my own ass couldn’t match Ass-Lay’s sexy walking advertisement for sex, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the guys crotches. Trust me as we did our ‘thang’ plenty of them were tenting. My tongue kept darting out wetting my lips, just thinking about all those cocks all gift wrapped just for me.
My lips tingled like crazy, but thank goodness we had places to be.
Now you would think a ritzy place like this would call the cops and have us tossed out, never to return. I knew the answer to this because I’d been present when it had happened. The old manager tried to do just that, but Our Man was alerted by a phone call and used his Mojo to convince the new man in charge that he shouldn’t brother us working bitches.
Why new manager? That’s because the old manager was a 19 year old Hispanic maid with broken English who’d give blowjobs for 10 bucks. Needless to say, that was one hell of a convincer.
The new management made do by getting us in and out as fast as they dared. As usual, a cab was waiting on us, and we both threw ourselves inside. There was no need to tell Cecile where to go, she’d been there before. Our Man didn’t stand for any male near him. It’d been Cecile bad luck to get too close. On the other hand, considering some of the changes the rest of us suffered, she got off pretty light.
The cute strawberry blond lost some age and was able to function in the world without any weird compulsions. That was a win in my book. She wasn’t happy about it, but she was wise enough to see how bad it could’ve been.
For instance, when the two of us threw ourselves into each others arms, it was that damn ‘party’ thing all over again. We couldn’t stand being alone. With just the two of us it wasn’t as bad as being all alone, but it was bad enough. Imagine someone with a fear of heights standing on a third story up window ledge. What did help take the edge off was sex.
For me this was absolutely terrifying. I had six months of memories to somehow process, and still try and to pretend nothing had changed. I did recall reading something about introspection, and how it was about thinking about thinking. There was actually a part of the brain that was more developed for those who did a lot of it. What Our Man did was disconnect that, with his command to live only in the now.
Now I had all those experiences to deal with, and most of them weren’t pleasant. Sensual, mind-blowing pleasure, maybe, but not at all nice morally. Like for instance, as Ass-Lay’s hands groped my ass.
I knew she was really Lynn, but I couldn’t help referring to her as Ass-Lay. I couldn’t even try and to cheat and use Ashley. Another issue was our tits, asses, and pussies. I knew they were breasts, buttocks, and genitals, but I couldn’t call them that. It was like trying to call a Chevy a Ford. It just wasn’t.
One thing I knew for sure, it was seriously messing with my head. I never used to speak like that, but now, I can’t even say ‘making love.’ It’s fucking. That’s not even how shocking it is to have Ass-Lay belt out F-bombs like a B-52.
“Shit! Fucking kiss me!” she screamed, overwhelmed by the fear.
Maybe I couldn’t say it, but it didn’t stop me from feeling the love. Instead of the frenzied exchange of saliva that I think would’ve occurred, my lips touched hers with all the affection I had for her, in a long, slow, passionate, burning kiss.
She gasped, surprised, but responded in kind. Maybe I was breaking cover already, but I couldn’t do anything else. The woman I loved was in extreme distress, and I knew this was what she needed.
That’s not to say it didn’t ring the hell out of my bells too. My damn pouting lips burned with a fire that ran all the way past my ceaselessly damp pussy to my toes. I orgasmed as our tongues intertwined.
I knew that Our Man had made changes to me so I would love sucking cock, but I never expected this. Imagine the pleasure of tasting something really good, and then increase it ten fold. I moaned. Damn this was great too.
However, memory told me that this was nothing compared to cocksucking. It was what I’d been designed for after all. What made this kiss different was that I truly loved her.
Even Cecile, as jaded as she was now after seeing all of us girls lose it, was impressed, “Damn, Blaze! That’s hawt girl!”
Panting, Ass-Lay asked, “Are we there yet?”
My eyes were still rolled back in my head. Tingling madly, I licked my lips, capturing hers again. Under siege by all the sensations, a little voice whispered, ‘This mission is going to be a real bitch.’
One hell of a lip-lock or not, the very second the cap stopped, we both sashayed to Our Man’s house as quickly as our skyscraper heels would allow. The music, thrumming though the door, drew us like a bug zapper does a mosquito.
Tiny opened the door for us. Once upon a time she’d been a male pimp who decided that no one moved in on his turf. Now, she was a tiny waif who, along with others who pissed off, Our Man, worked as our maids. They all had adult minds and desires, but pre-pubertal bodies. Their only concerns were the compulsions to take care of the housecleaning and anything else Our Man thought was degrading, but none of that mattered us right then.
We both danced into the group of our sisters who gyrated to the beat of Beyonce. The feeling of belonging and safety, after the near overwhelming feelings of fear, was intoxicating. Kisses were exchanged as we were welcomed back. Being in the press of bodies felt good.
Strangely, I could think a little more clearly now. It made sense, I suppose considering the comfort and security this gave me. On the other hand, we were blatantly displaying our bodies for Our Man.
Speaking of Our Man, he wasn’t sitting on his throne. That was probably a good thing, because I really needed time to get my head straight. It seemed like Agent 99, and I had been right. Our Man was an idiot. The power to change reality itself, and he chose to become a pimp? Okay maybe not a complete moron since he was gathering influence and political power by using us bitches.
I didn’t see anything that could be the source of his power. No Book of Shadows or some strange artifact sitting in a protective case. Far as that goes I didn’t see anything else that seemed suspicious.
For that matter, I had no idea why he was still here where it’d all begun. Why wouldn’t he move somewhere with a really nice area to influence with his one mile radius of twisty fun? Did something happen to make him ‘fort-up,’ or was the effect tied to this location? Too many questions and answering them just might get me worse than dead.
Ass-Lay danced to me grinding her pelvis against mine. I bit back a sigh, because if I didn’t, then not only would the woman I loved stay trapped as she was, but when Agent 99 called in the big guns we could all be killed anyway. What a fucking choice!
I could only hope I’d would have some time before that happened. Our Man hadn’t been shy about his activities. Changing 30 to 40 of us, annexing an apartment building, as well as any number of others such as hotel managers, cabbies, and who knew who else was bound to be noticed sooner or later. Nope, a shitload of pain was coming, and somehow I had to get everyone out of the way.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
The next week was a hell of a thing. Sex, coming, going, all exists are open, holy shit!, and yet more sex. I can’t say I got used to it, but I think I began adapting some. The whole cocksucking thing, being the best thing ever invented, pardon the pun, sucked!
I might’ve had gender issues, but not so with my sexuality. It was women I desired. As far as I could tell, Our Man gave all of us ex-men this same obsession. While he made us all bi-sexual, this oral mania was a hell of a lot more intense. Of course the best experience of all was with him.
However, besides having more sex than a house full of frat boys, I learned a few things. One was that all of us girls were using at least a little magic, power, or whatever you wanted to call it. Not so the maids. They had to clean and take care of us the old fashioned way. No only those of us that he’d first changed.
Hey I also got a count finally. There’s 35 of us from different cultures and nationalities. More or less what you’ll expect from a complex that housed lower income couples and students.
It’s the magic that was important thing. Our Man commanded us to be ready to go fucking at any hour of the day or night. Unlike normal people, all of us bitches lived around that dance floor. We slept on the wide array of sofas and were fed by the maids. It really was a harem no matter what Our Man wanted to call it.
We had a communal bath, and dressing room. Ass-Lay was dressing and picking out her club wear for tonight. As usual, they had a leopard theme which made me think. In the beginning I thought this was only more of Our Man making her appear the cheap slut. However, I remembered that Lynn had a pair of heels that she adored that was in the same style. She called them her naughty shoes. Could my love be closer to the surface than I thought?
I had reason to think so. Although most of us ex-couples stayed close, perhaps unconsciously, she’d been spending even more of her time near me. Our Man didn’t seem to object. He seemed to get off at the fact that the ex-boyfriends and husbands were getting screwed in front of their girls.
She looked at me. “I know just the look for you, Honey.”
Reaching into the wardrobe she pulled an identical outfit for me, but with tiger stripes instead of leopard spots. While my dress had the left shoulder bare, hers had the right. But of course it needed accessories. Again exactly what we needed was at hand.
Standing in front of the mirror, I nearly blew my cover. Damn but didn’t we make a smoking hawt pair! I tried not to feel guilty, but looking so sexy was a serious turn on. That’s not including that programming from Our Man, that gave me an extra ‘charge’ for looking or doing anything at all sexy.
None of the other girls lived in anything but the moment. Besides checking for appearance, that was it. While ‘home,’ we were drawn to the ‘dance.’ However, I wanted so much to explore, to see, if the woman I loved was inside that tart shell.
I think that’s where the full import of our matching dresses hit me. An experiment was called for. Reaching out, I visualized a pair of cat’s eye rings. Opening my hand there they were! It was magic! I handed one to her. “Now, we’re perfect.”
With a sultry purr she slipped it on a finger, “Fuckin’ A!”
I worried that our matching dresses would bring unwelcome attention, but luck was with us. Cecile picked us up, but this time the fear wasn’t that bad because there was more of us. We were on the way to that aforementioned frat house. That was enough to make it bearable.
I’m not going describe that night. It was a frat house and the six of us were fuckin’ machines. You figure it out. However, I did pick up another clue what Our Man was up to. One of the boys was on the football team. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling when I picked up on … call it a scent.
It was as if I could see it reaching from within us bitches like some kind of bizarre tentacle sex flick wrapping around him, sinking into his flesh. What made it even stranger, was that no one noticed although, I did see the other girls’ eyes flicker at the movement. They were too lost in the sex however to care. Hell, if I’d been giving head, I wouldn’t have noticed either.
I didn’t notice anything obvious changed about the boy. I was thinking Our Man was trying to fix the upcoming game by inflicting some kind of harm.
However, the next game he played I was proved wrong. That boy played as well as he fucked and that was damn fine. Thinking about it, I realized, what a hook. Our Man enhances the poor fool, and after he’s had a sweet taste of success, Our Man threatens to take it away.
I was still confused about the big picture concerning what Our Man’s goals, but he seemed to have something in mind. So far I’d seen fairly subtle things, like the blackmail and other little changes to those he was targeting. Everyone else was fair game for him to twist any way he pleased.
Was this because of some limitation of the power or was he a hell of a lot smarter than he appeared? I wished I knew. No matter, it was good that I was beginning to see the magic.
Getting back to Our Man’s house, I worked out some other things. Concentrating on that elusive ‘scent’ I began to see when Our Man was working his Mojo. Since my ‘looking’ was passive, I think I was pretty safe from discovery.
I’d also begun to sorta ‘look’ into people. Concentrating on my sisters I could sense what Our Man did to them. The ex-guys, like me, were easy to pick out, because we all had the cocksucking lips with the extra nerve endings.
Some of my other sisters had similar enhancements in their tits, while others had them in their ass like Ass-Lay. What surprised me was all of us were self-lubricating up the back door. The girls like Ass-Lay were just more so.
Hell, I began to wonder just how human we still were. You see, there were lots of other changes, and I’d no idea what most of them did. Virtually our entire bodies were transformed to some degree. Our Man’s preoccupation with sex helped decipher some of them. We were as flexible as any contortionist. Additionally, we had endurance to burn. Not surprisingly, given we spent so many hours on the dance floor entertaining Our Man. The Energizer Bunny had nothing on us Fuck Bunnies.
One of the most depressing things about all of this was, that we all looked to be sterile. Our Man didn’t want to be burdened with 35 women going though PMS all at once. However, one of the reasons I never pursued transitioning, was the painful truth, that even if I did, I could never bear my own child. At least as a male I could father one, but even that was a experience denied me now. Let me tell you that hurt.
As depressing as most this was, I found good along the way. One evening we were out ‘entertaining’ on the town, before heading someplace private for some serious fucking when, being a little bored, I ‘looked’ at the people around us. Not being a doctor, I didn’t know most of what I was looking at. However, one woman’s condition jumped out at me, even though she wasn’t showing yet. I could see her baby within her.
It was like catching the sunrise, or the full moon though the trees at just the right instant. It was a beautiful sight, that moved me to tears.
It stayed with me all that night, despite my being used and abused. I’d another reason for stopping Our Man. It was for the children. They deserved better than the perversions he would put them too. I sincerely hoped none had been caught in his web of changes.
Then, there was the boredom. My sisters were caught in the dance as completely as any fairy enchantment. Lost in living in the now, they were happy. I, however could think again. That meant even dancing and fucking in a harem of the sexiest women on the planet got old after a while.
Worse, I still hadn’t found any damn sign at all of how Our Man got his mojo. Bear in mind it was hard for me to snoop around given my primary activities. Still, I’d found nothing; not a single damn ancient looking idol, arcane jewelry, strange alien devices, or even a computer running some esoteric program, nothing, damn it.
It really sucked to know I had a deadline, and I wasn’t even able to see the fucking clock. However, I did find some odds and ends of papers that suggested Our Man was planning on moving. I’d also noticed he’d been targeting state government officials. So far no federal ones, like members of congress, but I figured it was just a matter of time. Most of what he did seemed random like with that football player. If there was a big picture, I couldn’t see it.
Unfortunately, that meant my time was running out. No way could Agent 99, and whoever she worked with could afford to let him get his fingers any deeper into politics. The southern ‘Good Ole Boy’ corruption was bad enough as it was, without tossing in an insecure, sex crazed, pimp with more power than anyone should have.
Too bad I forgot that other agencies had jurisdiction over little things like this. I was squatting, using my flexibility to sexily arch my ass, as I sucked off the stud in front of me. Then, with a very audible pop, I was pulled backwards.
Being interrupted like that had my head spinning, but as my arms were forced behind my back, fear hit me. Click, went the cuffs around my waists.
“Get your fucking hands off of me, you fucking asshole!” Ass-Lay shrieked, fighting like a pissed off wildcat.
I winced. Her voice could cut though a full blown hurricane. This was worse with all the women and guys screaming, and cussing all at once.
‘Oh shit!’ I thought. I’d run out of time.
The john they’d pulled me off of still had his eyes rolled back in his head, as the black suited SWAT guys pushed him against the wall. That’s when I spotted the local Sheriff’s department logo.
Oh no! This was so not good. I was fairly certain that, whoever Agent 99 worked for, it sure as hell wasn’t these County Mounties. The man in black pulled me roughly to my feet. Even in my scandalously high platform shoes, he towered over me only in combat boots.
Our Man reacted very badly to male authority figures like these, but what the hell could I do? To them I was just a whore, so like they were really going to listen to me? I’d learned a few very minor little tricks using the magic, but nothing that could defuse this.
As the first glimmers of that ‘scent,’ I knew this wasn’t going to end well.
The cop holding me began to shrink. Looking downward, the combat boots were morphing into a pair of sexy, looking high heel boots. Glancing at the other cops, the pair that was manhandling a spitting mad Ass-Lay were changing too. Their black assault gear turning shiny and tight transforming into corsets, highlighting their growing tits.
Her cussing turned to moans as they began making out with her, as their uniforms changed into costumes like strippers would wear. Fetish, wet looking, rubber police uniforms with badges proudly proclaiming, ‘Slut Police.’
The one holding me pushed me towards the ‘John’ who was now uncuffed, but looking a little confused. The cop, once trying to arrest him, was groping him instead. Her hair turned beached blond and grew longer.
It wasn’t a bust, but a porn show, as I was pushed towards his cock. Before my libido overtook me, I wondered about these guys’ families and cursed Our Man yet again. How many more lives would be destroyed? However, this made things worse. My deadline had gotten shorter.
The next few days were hectic. Even Our Man knew he’d crossed a line turning Gawd knows how many cops into strippers. I did take note that they weren’t added to our numbers. Once again that suggested that we who were changed first were special in some way. Not that it helped those new girls very much. A new strip club appeared on the outskirts of his power in a once abandoned building. I’d heard business was booming. The girls there would do things that would blow your mind. That’s because the cops never raided the place. I wonder why?
As for us on the dance floor, we were on edge too. I think it was like a young child or pet picking up on the anxiety of their caregivers. Living in the now like this didn’t leave much room for worry, only for what felt good.
Speaking of good, Our Man was definitely in the process of moving. There was a very ritzy community on the lake that had tons of millionaires and celebrities. I’d seen Google Earth pictures, laying around with circles drawn on them, highlighting the one mile radius of his power. At a guess, he was trying to get the most birds with his net that he could. That argued, that whatever the source of the power, it wasn’t very mobile.
Really feeling the pressure, I risked nosing around more, trying to literally sniff out that ’scent’ my brains identified as being linked with the power.
Nothing.
I did find his stash of books, but didn’t dare get close enough to even read the titles. One might’ve been in Latin, but I couldn’t get a good look. The only reason I found them was because one of the sexless maids was packing them up. The damn things were in a, I’m not kidding, secret compartment. Swung open, it was a bookcase, but closed, it looked just like a section of wall.
I don’t think those books were the key, but they might’ve been a clue. You see, Our Man wasn’t around during the packing. I’m sure if they were the source of his abilities, he would’ve been.
This was bad too, because whatever that damn secret was, it was well hidden. Sniffing about was one thing, but knocking on walls for secret doors with all the girls and maids stirred up was another. Have I said I really didn’t want to be caught?
That said, I was able to peek into a few of those boxes while others were being packed. One of those disturbed me, not because of squicky stuff inside, but actually the exact opposite. It was full of childhood mementos, such as a much used Rubik’s cube and a battered fourth grade math trophy.
Pulling out a framed picture, it portrayed a younger, cleaned up Mr. Skuzzy smiling with his parents. Stuffed in the corner of the frame was a small clipped newspaper obituary reporting the death of Mr. and Mrs. Bern. Their son Christopher was the only survivor of the tragic auto accident. It was dated a year ago.
Forcing myself to be careful, I replaced everything. The last thing I wanted to know was that he was even human, much less one with any redeeming qualities. I wasn’t allowed to hate Our man, but I could despise him. There were far too many trespasses that could never be forgiven.
That night, none of us were sent out. Our Man was in rare form as he worked his way though fucking all us bitches. Becoming paranoid, I wondered if this was some kind of trap, but when it got to be my turn, I got well and truly fucked. Luckily for me, there wasn’t anything else.
The next morning we were sprawled all over the place, sleeping while the maids tidied up. Half asleep, it was this light that finished waking me up. Our Man had shoved the heavy sofa-like throne out the way. There concealed, underneath it was this trapdoor with a rising platform. I guess the same one he had before gaining the powers of a god.
It was what sitting on top of it that was impossible to describe. Just looking at the thing made my head hurt. Trying to make sense of it, my eyes tried say it was a cube, but it wasn’t. Some parts folded into somewhere else where they shouldn’t, while others unfolded from apparently nothingness. A ‘tesseract’ maybe? I wondered, remembering an old sci-fi story. I am sure as hell wasn’t a rocket scientist. All I knew about such things was they simultaneously existed in several dimensions besides the three which we were familiar.
Considering the momentous headache it was giving me, I could well believe it was extra-dimensional. That weird light came from inside the thing. It looked to be fragile from the way Our Man was handling it so gingerly. This seemed like the real deal. I’d finally found it, the source of his magic!
The question was what to do about it? Run over there and smash it before he turned me into a piece of furniture? Make a break for the outside hoping Agent 99’s people were better prepared than those cops?
Realizing I didn’t have much time, I bit the bullet and ‘looked’ at it. The painful throbbing just from looking at it with normal sight was nothing compared to ‘looking’ at it. Trust me it was hard.
If I’d thought what I was seeing before didn’t make sense, it absolutely made none now. The other girls around me were beginning to stir letting me know time was running out.
Slowly I’d could see this was acting like some kind of prism, focusing these weird looking strands that connected us bitches to it and concentrating them into a single thick rope to Our Man. Mind you it was a lot more than that, but things twisted and folded within that damn thing so madly, it was impossible tell for sure.
After a second I began to see a pattern. Please recall I have at the very least a mild case of Aspergers. Think of Rain Man and his idiot savant math talent. While what I have isn’t that amazing, I’m a visual thinker, thinking in pictures, and I did see something.
What if I move that ‘thingie whangie’ like this, and this ‘whatacallit’ over here? Using my magic, I reached out.
Our Man screamed like a girl! “What the Fuck do you think you’re doing!”
The whole world trembled and shimmered.
In my ‘sight’ the 36 streams coming from the tesseract were all equal now. I felt like I’d just aced my math exam. That equation was solved!
Maybe I was pleased, but Our Man was pissed as he stalked towards me. “You fucking bitch! You know what you’ve done?”
I snarled, “Wake up everyone and remember!” Thirty-four heads shook themselves, as they went though what I went though all those weeks ago in that hotel room.
As they came awake, I replied, to Our Man, “I sure as hell do, Chris! You were using us to power that damn thing. Now everyone is getting an even share of power, even you. Guess what? There’s 35 of us and one of you.” I smirked nastily.
I watched his eyes as he computed the odds, and saw the panic as he broke for the door. Unfortunately for him, 34 very pissed off women beat him to it. Let’s say simply that it wasn’t pretty and leave it at that. His screams of, “I’m the Man” and, “You can’t do this to me,” faded out painfully.
I said 34 because the 35th, me I was walking towards the tesseract. This was decision time. Do I dare try and break it? Closing my eyes I visualized a tiger eye bracelet, and feeling it in my hand I ‘looked’ at it. I still had the power. We all still had the power. This was our best chance for getting back to normal, but absolute power corrupts, you know? Chris set such a great example of how that worked.
Sending a prayer heavenward, I did it.
Epilogue
Susan looked at me frankly. “You know, all of you scare the crap out of the directors, don’t you?”
Saucily, I swung a platform heel shoe. “I have gotten that feeling, yes. It’s not that I don’t feel the love, but I can tell someone doesn’t like us very much there, Agent 99.”
In the last couple weeks I’d learned that Susan was her real name, … well maybe. One never knew with these psychic spy types. I suspected that she’d been picked as our liaison because she’d researched the hell out of me, before risking waking me up.
Still, the heavy security was a sure sign that they were scared and didn’t trust us one damn bit. Thirty-five women who can twist reality around their little fingers, what so frightening about that? After all each of us could only affect an area about as far out as we could physically reach out and touch, say about a yard give or take.
Why thirty-five women and not thirty-six? That’s right, when Agent 99 and whatever deep black agency she belonged to knocked down the door, Our Man was nowhere to be found. Take my word for it he never would be. I’d made damn sure I was very specific about her changes. No repressed memories for that girl. I didn’t just clean her slate first, I ground that sucker up into mush and rebuilt it.
Sissy is as sweet a girl as you’ll ever meet. Perhaps a bit forward, and certainly passionate, but compared to the rest of us, she’s about as nice as they come. I ensured, she didn’t have any of the cruel compulsions we were cursed with. That was as far as I was prepared to go. Perhaps some might call me as bad as ‘He-who-does-not-exists-any-more,’ but I’m not taking any chances at all considering what happened. I most especially am not trusting the government with this thing that was simple enough for a college kid to build on his kitchen table.
Susan stared at me. I’m sure she knew I wasn’t telling the whole story.
“Are you sure you don’t know what happened to the device?,” She asked me for about the thousandth time or so. The tape recorder in front us made sure I knew just who she was passing on the request from. They’d been highly pissed to find a pile of broken glass and crystal.
“Like I’ve said before, I’m not sure. Maybe when I retuned it, something overloaded. I do remember him yelling, ‘Do you know what you’ve done.’ I’m took that as a bad sign. Besides, it was destroyed. I think you said, back when you woke me up, that no one could be trusted with that kind of power.” I answered playing with my tiger eye bracelet. When dealing with something in so many dimensions all at once, little things like volume and mass aren’t all that important. Of course I wasn’t going to tell her that.
She sighed. “So we have 35 psychologically damaged women with that power instead?”
I smiled correcting her, “She has no access to the power and never will. For another thing, our range is greatly reduced from what his was, and if any of us get out of control there’re plenty of others to take care of the problem. At any rate, we’re probably more of a danger to ourselves than to others.”
That was true. Most the girls were still in that walking comatose state. However, Agent 99’s people were helping. More and more, we were getting to the point where we could start to deal with what happened. I will say only one other ex-male had recovered at all, and he was gay. For that matter, he’d been the only one able to physically transform himself to any degree. No longer looking like a stripper, Stacy was androgynous looking, even if she still had breasts, but it was a step in the right direction.
With me and the few others, who were more or less functional, we made sure that’s all Agent 99’s people were doing was helping. We’d had enough brainwashing and mind control, thank you very much! There was one small incident. One of the doctors, either on his superiors order or on his own tried subverting one of my sisters by taking Chris’s place in her programming. I really didn’t care who ordered it, because after a week of crossdressing, he and everyone else got the message. He looked rather fletching in red, although he needed more practice with the heels. I guess everyone had to know where the limits were, and now they did.
Happily for me, Ashley was one of those who was sorta kinda functional. The extra attention, I paid to her somehow made the difference. Sure she still cussed like a sailor sometimes, but not all the time now. Like us all, she was healing.
That applied to me too. I could actually called her something else other than that profane name he’d given her. Thinking about it, she asked to go by Ashley, for the time being. That was fine by me, since I was still going by Blaze. It was going to take time.
Part of what I haven’t addressed is my own physical changes. A good chunk of it is all subconscious. Stacy proved that by her working her way back to a more masculine body. My problem was, I liked how I looked now, much better than I had as a guy. Yeah, with the Fellatio pouting lips and all, but at least the worst of the compulsions were muted. That still means I’m very oral fixated, but Ashley isn’t complaining. For that matter, unless I somehow undo those physical alterations in my mouth, I’m probably going to stay that way.
“Think of us instead, as a priceless treasure and resource,” I said, touching the Styrofoam cup on the table. It gleamed turning into gold. That little trick cost me some time, studying a science book describing the elements and a gold ring. Personally, I would’ve liked titanium, but I thought gold would have more impact.
“So what are we supposed to do with you all? Lock you up in Fort Knox? Even with you providing a never ending stream of gold, it takes money and resources to look after all of you.” She replied.
I could tell she was being prompted. An advantage of having a physic spy. Too bad I made damn sure she couldn’t read me reliably. It was a little tricky, but the freedom of my sisters and I depended on it.
“I’m sure your bosses would rather we were easy to sweep under the rug. However, I have a solution. We can provide our own facilities,” I added, explaining.
“Please don’t thank we’re not grateful to you, and to each and everyone who rescued us. However, we don’t want to be used again. Treat us with respect and a little dignity, and it’ll go a long ways.” I said, projecting the sincerity I felt.
Susan smiled. “So you’re not planning on flooding the market with precious metals? We have the economy to think about after all.”
Eyes sparkling, I grinned, “I don’t think that small.”
After explaining myself to my sisters, they were all thrilled. They wanted run out in the middle of the night and start right that very instant. That very instant wouldn’t have been too soon.
Used to sleeping together like a bunch of puppies or kittens, the individual rooms, they had us in, were driving all of us up the wall. Plus, there was nowhere to dance!
The next morning, Agent 99 and more than a few heavily armed watchers, escorted us out to the area that’d been approved for our experiment. Most of last night had been spent going over what we wanted. I’d gotten the ball rolling by making a miniature representation and soon, all the girls had gotten into the act adding or changing things.
It went faster than it should’ve, because we were accustomed to working and getting along. I’d half expected some Gawd awful thing that was designed by a committee, but you know? It didn’t. I know, we were all very pleased. It was as if all of our skills and visions came together to create this thing of beauty, and knowing the nature of our origins who’s to say it didn’t?
Like a priestess, Ashley placed the representation on the ground, then we formed a large circle holding hands.
Looking over my shoulder at Agent 99, who had a doubtful expression on her face, but there were still a cameraman next to her, to catch everything recorded.
Smiling, I turned back to my sisters. “Come on girls. Let’s show’em they ain’t seen nothing yet!”
The power rose up out of us, invisible to all except maybe Agent 99. With our wills focused on the model, the very air shimmered with power. Then like a gentle breath, it was done. I’d suspected that all of us working together could affect a much larger area than even Chris could at his height.
A road now connected to the once barren area. Buildings of a typical small, but artsy town lined both sides and it lead to the gates of a huge mansion. It was in a very artistic, Victorian style. There were even parks, gardens and fountains where only rocks and scrub grass had grown before.
As one, we laughed and giggled like a pack of teenage girls. We now had our own town!
I was only too aware that the government was trying to sweep many of the others who had their lives destroyed by Chris, under the rug. They wanted those poor souls to just go away, but now they had a place to live, work and even play. Arm in arm we ran inside our new home, which already rang with the beat of music.
Susan shook her head at us, but I didn’t care. This girl had some dancing to do!
So how does this story end? Well, if you’re ever out in the middle of nowhere, and run across a town not on any map, you might want to stop. If you’re invited up to the huge mansion that’s filled with the beat of dance music, you won‘t be disappointed if you accept. The girls are always friendly, and willing to help out a stranger. As long as you don’t do something foolish, like proclaim you’re the Man, you’ll be just fine!
If you really found a D'jinn's lamp what kinds of wishes would you make?
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. A big thanks goes out to Cathy who proofed and generally make this readable. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy
By
Grover
I stopped dead in my tracks. Right there in front of me, half-buried in the river mud was the unmistakable shape of a classical D’jinn’s lamp. Looking around, I checked for practical jokers. I just had to make sure no one was having some fun at my expense, but no one else was about on this crisp Carolina morning. One of the reasons I was out there at all was so I could escape the hustle and bustle of the city.
Columbia has two rivers, the Bush, and the Board which collides and merges, right in its heart, into the Congaree. What made this important was that the area was undeveloped, and was almost like a small wilderness, accessible to those who wanted to risk the usual hazards of snake bites and poison oak. A little like an overgrown Central Park, without the muggers.
The recent storm had washed a lot of stuff down stream, and I never got tired of walking the banks, seeing what had been washed up. The reason I was so suspicious of that damn lamp, was because I was a struggling writer. I had to admit that I struggled more than write sometimes, but the story my muse and I were currently fighting over was about, you guessed it, a Genie.
Plus let’s face it. The great red state of South Carolina is not exactly known for unearthing ancient Middle Eastern artifacts. American Indian arrow heads, and pottery shards, yes. Even Colonial stuff showed up sometimes, as well as things from the Civil War, such as minie and musket balls, but items more than a couple hundred years old, not so much.
Alright time to get filthy, I decided. I stepped out into the mud, and before I was finished, the foul stuff had oozed into every nook and cranny I had. Now, while I had to go out there and get that lamp, I wasn’t too happy about getting my special undies all nasty. The package may have said boy-cut, but believe you me, no boy would have dared worn the lacy things.
I just bet someone out there is asking, just why then was I wearing them. That is really a good question, which I and lot of others would really like to know. The short answer is I like wearing pretty things, and when I don’t, I feel a very unpleasant anxiety, sort of like a bug eating at me.
The long answer, from those who know a little about the subject, say that somewhere during a baby’s development in the mama, things got a bit out of kilter. You ended up with the old gray matter more like a gal, than a fella. I know that there are few self-opinionated know-it-alls who think I, and others like me, are, in simple words, nuts, bughouse crazy, and/or sexual perverts.
Let’s be real here, okay? If you had a choice between being told that what was wrong with you was biological and here are some ways you can, constructively, deal with it, or would you rather they told you that you were crazy as a loon, and that they were going to lock you away for their own good. Don’t worry. A little electro-shock and some brainwashing, you’d be a new man in no time at all. Which would you choose? I know which one I would.
Managing to rake some of the cold nasty muck off of me, I cleaned up as well as I could, from my impromptu salvage operation. All the while, I was eyeing that damn lamp. Hell, I was even afraid to brush the mud off the damn thing, for fear of possibly releasing a D’jinn.
I don’t know which was bothering me more. That there wasn’t a Genie inside, and I was only being foolishly superstitious, or there was an all powerful Genie inside, just waiting to screw up whatever wishes I came up with. But of course, since I was writing a story about them, I had put in a lot of time thinking, concerning D’jinns, wishes, and how things could go south in one hell of a hurry.
It wasn’t getting any warmer out here so cold and wet; I tramped back to my apartment. Hosing the mud off of me, I turned the water hose onto my find. Most of the mud washed off but some of the caked on stuff was being stubborn. More than a little self-conscious, I left it soaking in a bucket while I took a hot shower to warm my blood back up.
Grabbing a bowl of leftovers and nuking it to an edible temperature, I got out my notebook and a pen, and began making some notes. If nothing else I could always claim I was doing research for my story. Yeah, that was a little flimsy, but it was the best I could come up with to cover my foolishness, to myself.
Finishing up the last of my food, I decided it was do or die time. The soaking had done its job, and the remaining mud washed right off. Turning it this way and that, I saw at least there weren’t any stamps proclaiming that it had been “Made in China.”
Feeling very much the same way as I did when checking my lotto tickets, right before finding out that I hadn’t won anything at all, I took a deep breath, and rubbed the lamp.
“S**t!” I yelled, throwing myself backwards as a jet of smoke shot out of the mouth of the lamp. In nothing flat, my apartment was filled, and the damn smoke alarm started blaring.
Coughing, and trying to see despite my burning eyes, I yanked out the batteries. Now, deafened as well as blind, and coughing my lungs out, I stumbled to the door, opening it before falling to my knees.
I wasn’t thinking that, hey I’d rubbed the lamp and something had happened. I was more concerned about my landlord complaining about me setting fires or, even worse, the fire department showing up and ruining what little in the way of belongings I had.
Finally able to take a deep breath again, I got up from all fours and turned around to see how bad the damage was. To my astonishment, the smoke was gone! Cautiously, I sniffed, and caught a whiff of an ashtray like scent of something burnt, but not nearly as bad as it had been, less than a minute ago.
I looked at my kitchen table, where the lamp still laid on its side. A charred, blackened cone now marked my poor table, where the smoke had poured forth. Then I noticed my notebook was missing!
Up till then, I was thinking that perhaps one of my friends had somehow played a joke on me. The acrid smoke was a clue that maybe I’d been set up, even if it clearing up so quickly was suspicious. I was fairly certain that, even when I had been blinded, no one got past me.
Even so, feeling more than a little paranoid, I demanded, “Is anyone here?”
I liked to have wet myself when I got an answer!
“Hello there!” a melodious voice sang out. “Looking for this?” She asked.
Spinning to face the little open area that served as my living room, I saw a woman, reclining on my rather threadbare old couch. Not being much of ladies man, that wasn’t something that I ever expected to see in my living room. Even more unlikely were the silky diaphanous pantaloons she was wearing. If you’re thinking it would be something a Genie with light brown hair would wear, you’d be on the money, because that was exactly what she looked like. Maybe not like the beautiful one played by Barbara Eden, in that old comedy sitcom, but definitely about a 9.5 on the cute meter.
My mouth fell open, as my poor brains popped a fuse, and started frying.
Holding up my notebook which contained my ideas about what wishes I might make, she gave me her critique.
“Some of these are not bad. I would stay away from number three though,” she said, shaking her head. “Happily ever after is such a subjective phrase. Seven, eight and nine are washouts; effects too many people at once.
“Wishes can not make such major changes to reality. They’re more like amendments to your United States Constitution. It further defines and elaborates on issues that aren’t covered in detail. Just like Amendments can’t change fundamental cornerstones of the Constitution, neither can magic alter reality in such a radical fashion. In practical terms, wish magic is for just one person.” She lectured.
Then she jumped up from my creaky old couch like a playful kitten or sprite. “I am the Genie of the lamp, my Master. You have released me and so I will grant thee three wishes.”
Her eyes smiling at me though her eyelashes she asked, “So, what will be your first wish, Oh my Master?”
I very intelligently tried to stop the drool from running down my chin. Way past overload now, and well into meltdown, my brains were mush. While I knew I was gender bent, I had no doubts whatsoever about my sexuality. This genie was more than attractive enough to kick my shyness reflex into full gear. Add in the whole, Oh-My-Gosh magic is real thing, and all you needed to do was to stir well, serve when absolute stupidity, or moronic answers are desired.
“Aaaahh,” I replied.
Twisting the knife, the cute little Genie in front of me gave me one of those coltish shy looks, which are so effective at turning reasonable rational males into the most foolish creatures on the face of the planet. “What was that, my Master?”
I think the only thing that saved me was my inner woman. She knew exactly what the little minx was up to. Socially inept, and attracted to her or not, I knew I had to get this right.
Nervously stepping up to her, I held out my hand. “W-w-what may I call you, and can I have my notebook back p-p-please?”
Her dark eyes flashed amused. “But of course, my Master. I am known as the Genie of the Lamp. Jennie for short.”
Handing me over my book, she mischievously asked, “Is there anything else you wish of your servant?”
Warning bells were going off in my head, like a five alarm fire. Well, I had some good clues now that she was one of the tricky varieties of Genies. Carefully I told her, “No wishes at this time. I just wanted my notebook back, all right?”
She pouted, “You’re no fun at all, Master O’ mine.”
Since my kitchen table was a loss, I sat on the sofa, trying vainly to pull my thoughts together. I quickly wrote out some important safety tips.
1) DO NOT USE THAT WORD!
2) Keep it simple, stupid!
3) Be careful!
With those helpful safety hints sitting in front of me, I tried to write out what I was going to w_ _h for. While I was attempting to do that, she was bouncing all over my living room, poking her nose into everything I owned.
It was impossible for me not to be distracted by this lithe, feminine creature, dancing about in front of me. Part was attraction, while another was envy that she filled out those silky things so well, and how pretty they were. I considered telling her to go back into her bottle or something, but was afraid that I might word even that wrong. It seemed best just to say as little as possible, until I had my desires written down and carefully worded.
A really good friend once told me that, being transgendered was basically a very selfish thing. You hurt inside, at such a deep and personal level, that you just wanted it to stop, anyway you could. However, I had heard far too many of the girls tell of their troubles; everything from physically and mentally abusive families, to the loss of employment and friends. That was just the tip of the iceberg. My online community of transgendered friends were all wounded doves, each with their own scars and wounds. I wanted to try and help. That meant putting aside my own hurts, and doing my best to use this priceless opportunity for all of us.
She, seeing I wasn’t going to say anything, grew tired of her game and started looking over my shoulder. Every other line or so she would cluck, or shake her head. That didn’t help my concentration or my nerves at all.
Putting down my pen, I held my head in my hands. No matter what I tried, there were going to be loopholes. I wasn’t a lawyer. My brains just don’t work that way. Not only would I not get what I wanted, but I could very well end up in a very bad way. About the only way I could get out of this would be to give the damn things away.
That thought stopped me.
Why not? I asked myself. Picking up my pen, I wrote out as simple instructions as I could, that hopefully couldn’t be misconstrued too badly. Finished, I let out a deep breath. I sent a silent, heartfelt prayer up to heaven. “Please dear Lord, don’t let me screw this up!”
The Genie gave me another curious look and stood up, attentive.
“Jennie,” I announced. “I’m ready to make my wishes. I want my first wish to go to the one person in the world who can, and will, use it most effectively, to better the quality of life and happiness, of all transgendered people in the world.”
Hoping I wasn’t making things even worse, I went on to number two. “Next, I wish that, the one person in the United States that can, and will, use the money most effectively to help and aid the transgendered, will win the Mega-Powerball Lottery Jackpot, the next time they play.”
I had my eyes shut, waiting for disaster to strike, as I went on to the last one. “For my third and last wish.”
“Master,” she interrupted. “You are out of wishes.”
“But I only made two!” I protested.
“No O Master, You did not.” she disagreed. “You wished that a wish would go to someone else. That counts as two. You can not wish for more wishes. Wishing a wish to go to someone else is two and not one, Master of mine.”
I sighed, “So be it.” It would have been nice to have had one left for myself, but if the two I made turned out the way I intended, I would be ecstatic.
Jennie nodded, and we stood there for a moment, looking at each other. I was getting a little nervous, because I was really expecting her and her lamp, to do that smoke thing again.
She shuffled a foot, still looking far too damn cute in those pantaloons and silks, but she didn’t go anywhere at all.
Finally I just had to ask, “Shouldn’t you be off, to deliver the wishes I gave away?”
“Why, O Master, should I do that? You did not, after all, specify a given time frame.” she replied.
More than a little heartbroken, I collapsed back onto my poor, worn out couch, feeling more than a little sorry for myself. Holding my head in my hands, I groaned. I’d had the opportunity of a lifetime and I’d blown it, big time. Not just for me but for everyone else too. She could wait forever before granting those wishes.
Looking up, I saw she was still there. I thought about trying to convince her to, please, grant those wishes, in the spirit they had been intended, but I had some pride left. I’d taken my best shot, and it fell short. The story of my life.
“Then why are you still here? As you pointed out, I’ve used up my three.” I said trying not to get upset, or depressed.
“Curiosity, Master. Curiosity. Rarely have I been asked to give a wish to someone else. Even rarer is the one to grant treasures and riches to someone who is completely unknown to the holder of the lamp. I have to ask, why O’Master o’mine, would you do such?” she questioned me.
Breathing out heavily, I answered, “More than 1% of the population is like me and my on-line friends. We get the short end of the stick, coming and going. None of us asked for this, but we’re not going to apologize to everyone else for daring to exist. I’ve always have tried to live by the rule of helping myself, by helping others. I usually fail, but I try.”
“I gave those wishes to others because, while I’m no dummy, I don’t pretend to be able think in the twisty, double-talk way of a good contract lawyer. This was just too important to screw-up, but I did it anyways.” I said, failing to keep my bitterness from my voice.
Jennie nodded, “So what would you have wished for, if you hadn’t given it away?”
Suddenly suspicious again, I asked, “My wishes have been granted, right?”
“Yes, Master. Your three wishes have been used, and granted.” she told me.
“Why would you want to know, then?” I asked, confused.
She shrugged, “Like I said O’Master, it is unusual for me to get unselfish wishes. I am curious.”
What the hell. Hanging my head low, I explained, “I had to work around your condition of the magic effecting just one person. It had to be like winning the Lotto. It affects just one person, but the money can be able to change many people’s lives.
“Every way I came up with was either, too complicated, or broke that rule you laid out. Besides, I most certainly did not want to ruin anyone’s lives by trying to decide the fate of their lives for them. I suspect that much more than 1% of the population is TG, and messing with that could cause untold harm. Some are able to live and thrive, and I didn’t want to mess that up for them. I had to come up with something, more or less simple, but also with a choice.
“You’re going to chuckle again at me here, but here goes.” I warned her. “I was thinking of those slinky, toy-like bracelets that spiral up your arm. If placed on your right wrist you would see the idealized version of yourself in a mirror. You could consciously make changes to that image. Over the span of a year, you would slowly become that person. That should spread out the changes over enough time so it really should not be too noticeable, and with some creativity, let you keep your records reasonably well updated, like by claiming to have lost your license, so it has to be replaced with a more up to date picture.
“That should also be fast enough so as to not to drive you crazy, waiting for it to happen. By putting the bracelet back on the right wrist, you can edit at any time, but again the changes take place over a year from that point.
“By putting it on your left wrist you can see your actual reflection and, once a day, ’snap’ off a link and give it to someone else. That link would have all the properties of the original. Over the span of a day, the lost or new link would slowly grow to replace the missing section, until it was long enough to be given again.
“It would have to be given. No saving up a drawer full of the things, or anything like that. No eternal life either, like by making yourself young forever. You could give yourself the appearance of youth, and certainly have a wonderful quality of life, and live out your whole span in good health, but this is no fountain of youth. Just a way of helping those caught in an intolerable situation, have the life they should have had, from the start.
The bracelets would also alter to match their owners’ preferences, and help keep anyone from figuring out what all these folks who are changing have in common. As another safety feature, unless they are freely given, they do nothing.”
I shrugged, “Like I said, an overly complicated, Rube Goldberg contraption that, I’m sure, is full of problems. That’s why I tried to pass the wish on to someone I hoped could do a better job, but all I did was mess it up for everyone.” I said grumpily.
Sighing yet again, I told her, “I know it’s my fault, but I ask you to please reconsider that timeframe thing.”
Jennie smiled at me and I started wondering if that was a good thing, or a bad one. Crossing her arms in parody of that old TV sitcom, she boinked her head. “Thy wishes are granted, O’Master!” She said, with a flourish.
A spiraled bangle appeared around my wrist in a flash of light. I stared at it for a moment before the import of it hit me. I did the sensible thing, and passed out.
I woke, being fanned back to consciousness, and the first thing I saw was that sweet, smiling face. Kinda went gaga again before I remembered what was going on. Lifting my left arm, sure enough, there was a silver, spiral bangle.
Speechlessly, I looked at her, still in shock.
Grinning, she bounced up, standing. “I’m glad to see you’re alright Master.”
Finding my voice I demanded, “I wished my wishes to someone else. How come this?” I asked, shaking my arm, making my new jewelry dance.
Still dancing about, she teased me. “You wished that the person who would best use a wish, for the betterment of the Transgendered portion of the population, would get the wish. That would be you, my Master. I decided that, since you were asking me for my opinion on who would be best able to do so, that one of the wishes let me use my discretion. What you described to me was, as you said, overly complicated. However it does fall within the ability of the magic of the wishes to fulfill.
I looked at her, not too sure of her reasoning at all. On the other hand, as I twisted my new jewelry around, I did have what looked to be the means of changing myself into the me I always wanted. “Hmm.. Jennie, this does work like I described, right?” I asked.
She gave me one of those looks that I just knew, meant she had pulled something, if you know what I mean. “Yes O’Master. That is mostly. Your wish was to go to who would make the best wish on behalf of your transgendered sisters and brothers. However, what you described would work its magic on anyone.
“In order to keep everyone on the planet from eventually ending up with one, the bracelet will only enchant those in need. Additionally the magic will make some immediate changes, but only cosmetic ones. So that there is some kind of sacrifice, the act of giving a link, as you call it, prevents those immediate changes for 24 hours, nor can you make long term changes either, although anything in the process of long alteration will continue.”
Still not quite convinced this wasn’t all a dream, I sat there in silence. Finally I looked at the Genie, trying to think of way to tell her to take ten; I really needed to check out a mirror.
Giggling, she pointed at my small bathroom, “Well, Go on!”
I nearly flew off my old couch in my haste.
I’d reached the door when, following behind me, she yelled at me. “Master!”
In a real hurry now, I turned around.
“You don’t want to lose this.” She said, waving a slip of paper at me.
Giving the mirror a longing glance, I took the paper from her.
MEGA-POWER-PLAY-LOTTO
05 10 15 20 25 MEGA-BALL- 30
A lottery ticket dated for tomorrow?
Oh Crap! It hit me. “You mean, this is, I mean..” I stammered.
Still grinning she nodded making her brown ponytail bounce.
I did the only thing I could. I passed out. Again.
It’s taken about two weeks to get most everything taken of. Uncle Sam made a point to take his share, and I settled up with all of my blood sucking creditors. I’ve got a good start on setting up a foundation for girls like me. It will help them with a place to live, and show them not only how to be their true selves, but how to live in this crazy world of ours. More important, it’ll help not only the girls needing help today, but ones tomorrow too, with the way I got the money arranged.
I packed everything I wanted to keep, in the trunk of my new car. A sensible sedan suitable for traveling across North America and anywhere else I could reach by road. I had some visiting to do, and some very special gifts to give.
As for me, I’ve taken full advantage of those cosmetic changes Genie told me about. Bye, bye, male pattern baldness, and hello silky smooth body. Not quite sure when I’ll make my transitioning official, but just these little, easy to explain things, were wonderful.
Time for me to leave. Jennie was waiting in the car while I took one last look at my old life.
“The Genie?”
Much to my dismay, she has decided to stick around. She says I’m fun, with all that fainting I do. I retort, "I’m not a Major in the Air Force, or an Astronaut," so she can take off any time she likes.
Don’t get me wrong here! I like her just fine. I’m just a little afraid of what’s going to happen next! The last two weeks were not a time I was going to be forgetting anytime soon.
I even told her, “You do know what kind of long term changes I’m making to myself, right?”
Doing that ponytail bouncing nod of hers, she grinned back, “But of course I do O’Master. You don’t think the girls in the harem just chastely wilted away, waiting for their master to call upon them, do you?”
Laughing at the expression on my face, she promised, “I can tell you tales that will …”
“No more!” I begged, getting this show on the road.
It was going to be a long trip! As I pulled out of the drive to the sound of her giggles, Damn if I would have it any other way!
Have all you high fantasy fans out there ever wondered about other explanations when it was you read that the Witch-king, demon or whatever the baddie is would not fall "by the hand of man?" I have.
Their brave company had accomplished the impossible. The antidote to cure Good King Phillip was in their hands. Now all they had to do was get it back to the Kingdom, but time was not on their side.
The insidious poison Lord Night used to cut down the King could only be slowed, while the antidote could only be made from the same rare flowers that the deadly poison was brewed. It took the intrepid heroes days of hard travel to reach the dread Lord’s keep, and bold action bordering on insanity to enter that terrifying garden of death to harvest those frightful blooms.
Arianna, the Sylvan Archer, keen eyes scanned the night, as the intrepid band rode for their lives. Her cloth long shafts had slowed pursuit, but not stopped the enemy horde. The common goblin solider might be no match for any of the King’s company, but the creatures depended upon their ferocity and near limitless numbers to overwhelm their foes.
In truth, she was but little worried about the goblins. The reason why rode next to her trailing their remounts behind him.
Of all of her dozen companions, John was undoubtedly the most humble. The King’s Stable-master had insisted the young ostler accompany them on their quest. This journey had proved that wisdom many times over. The young man had a way with horses that was uncanny. He could tell from the slightest signs when something was wrong or needed attention before it became a problem. Devoting himself to looking after the company’s animals, he’d been the sole reason why they were able to travel so quickly. They had outpaced and had run the pursuing goblin wolf riders into the ground.
Because their differences set them apart from the others, the two of them had paired up. As part of the Sylvan ambassador’s party to the human lands, Arianna knew out it felt to be …unique.
She lifted her eyes to the starry skies. Goblin’s and wolves weren’t the only soldiers in Lord Night’s army.
If they could just make it to the pass they just might stand a chance.
Switching to her remount on the move, the lithe Sylvan and the young ostler rode as if demons were snapping at their heels.
A half a glass later all their fears came true.
The dragon’s roar shattered the night, causing all who was about this night to cower.
Arianna knew the fearsome bellow was much like that of bats that used the high pitched squeal to find their way in the dark. However no one sane failed to take note that a fearsome predator was on the prowl. While any dragon was a catastrophe, this one was much worse. She’d hoped that he’d been too far away, concerned with the war Lord Night was waging in the north, to summon.
No matter that the goblins had fallen hopelessly behind for the one that was coming was as powerful as any army. Drakar, the dark Lord’s chief general, was on their trail, and he’d never failed his master. Any hopes she had of their company surviving their quest were dashed.
Her arrows were fearsome weapons, but less than chaff against the great dragon. All knew of the many magical protections Lord Night had cast upon his champion. No man could slay the great general was the boast.
When the Sylvan hosts laughed for many of their number were women, they soon learned they should’ve kept silent, as he added even more spells to guard his commander. It was in doubt that anyone besides the Gods themselves could slay the leader of Lord Night’s armies.
However, the pass still offered hope if slim. Its high steep sides should prevent the winged disaster from attacking them until they exited within dubious safety of the Kingdom. That would not stop the Dragon from following them afoot. She knew better than to think he was any less dangerous on the ground than in the air. Nor did she think they could simply outrun him as they did the wolf riders. In the air or on the ground, dragons were fast and deadly.
They weren’t impossible to kill, but for a small company haphazardly put together on a desperate quest to save a dying man, it was all but impossible. None of them had heavy armor given their dire need for haste, nor had they the weapons necessary to pierce the scaled hide.
Hope swelled even larger within her as the first of the company galloped into the canyon-like pass. A faith that turned to ashes as another Dragon howl thundered from the far side of the mountain, where their debatable safety lay.
Not more than a handful of heartbeats later the dread champion himself came into sight. He landed on their side of the pass after flaunting his power to cover the entire ten mile length of the gorge in less time than it took to tell of it.
Arianna reined in her mount, watching her enemy leisurely furl his wings. John waited with her although she fought the urge to command her friend to flee.
Despite the darkness, her keen Sylvan eyes observed their doom. Drakar was at least 15 paces from his dagger filled jaws to his spiked tail. He stood at three times the height of a tall man from his steel clad talons to the razor tipped capped horns upon his head. As if the weapons he’d born with weren't enough, his dread master had provided more enhancing the ones given to him by nature. Even in the night the jewels and precious metals that were stripped from his fallen enemies gleamed from the ornamented claws and horns.
Balthazar, the Knight of the order Du’Honor, their small company’s leader, rode up to them. Predictably he ignored John. The young ostler had a dissonance about him that brought out the worst in some. Unfortunately, the Knight was one of those. Wisely, John kept out of everyone’s way with the exception of herself.
As the party’s only woman and non-human as well, Arianna was more tolerant of differences. Additionally, although those of Sylvan blood could be just as foolish as any human, their longer lives also gave them the opportunity to learn more of the workings of the Creators. She had her suspicions of the conditions and causes that set her young friend apart.
This time however, the Knight wasn’t here about John. She could tell by his expression that he knew of their grim predicament.
“Who do you think he left at the South pass?” He asked, staring at the terrifying agent who’d broken entire armies his master, Lord Night.
The Knight knew that the Sylvan tribes had carefully watched Lord Night for decades knowing that sooner or later that he would take his conquests to the rich lands of the South.
“Ogre’s are too heavy even for a dragon to carry considering the distance and the necessity for speed.” She replied. “Troll, it’d have to be trolls. If they really wanted to they could hack off parts to lessen his burden so he could carry more counting on the foul things' regeneration to replace the missing parts by the time we run into them.”
“We can handle them.” Balthazar declared after a moment of consideration. “But that’s not the point is it?”
They both knew the trolls only had to delay them. The real killer was there in front of them.
“Well,” The knight sighed, drawing his huge two handed sword. Normally using such a weapon from horseback would be pure foolishness, but Balthazar’s immense fist swallowed up the haft of the blade dedicated to his Deity.
“Someone will just have to buy a little time won’t they.” He stated, dropping unneeded gear from his horse.
“Aye,” she spoke, doing the same. “I’ll try and distract him to give you your best chance.”
It was unsaid that without lance and his plate mail this was very nearly suicide against a normal dragon, if any could be described as such. Against Drakkar it proved only their hopeless desperation.
The knight nodded, tightening his helm and shield.
Drawing the yard long shaft to her ear, Arianna loosed letting the steel tipped death fly though the night.
Powerful enough to penetrate armored knights like so much cheese, it bounced off the craggy plated brow protecting the burning orb of the beast’s eye.
Drakkar gave her a glare as if to say nice try.
However, before the first had struck another arrow sang as it departed her bow. Fifty yards, that’s what she’d given Balthazar.
It was for naught. A veteran of conflicts that lasted longer than a mortal man’s life span, the dragon shielded his vulnerable eyes from her and concentrated on the real threat.
Balthazar.
The dragon’s first torrent of flames went askew as the Knight cut his mount in hard, dodging. But there came a second and a third jet of fiery death. Grimly Balthazar kept charging forward though the blistering assault.
Battle wise, his foe tried to use his deadly spiked tail to sweep knight and charger from their feet, but together they leaped the whipping appendage as if taking a hedge upon the hunt.
Arianna’s eyes narrowed. Busy trying to kill the agile Knight, Drakkar got sloppy. As soon as she released the arrow, she knew it was going to strike true.
Recoiling in pain, the huge dragon gave her hope that it’d been a golden shot, one in a life time though the eye pass the formidably armored skull to the vulnerable brain beyond, fatal.
Hope fled as her keen Sylvan vision saw the shaft caught in the inner eyelid of the beast. Ill fortune or the many enchantments of his dark master had foiled her chance at defeating her foe.
However, it’d distracted Lord Night’s champion.
Sir Balthazar had his chance.
Dashing in, the Knight used his considerable experience to make the most of the momentum. A lance would’ve been much better. With it he could’ve put both his and his charger’s mass into the charge, all concentrated in the lance’s sharp tip, but that was not to be.
Even though she could not hear the words, she knew a prayer to his Deity was on his lips. In answer the blessed blade erupted with a burning light blinding friend and foe alike.
Fiery sparks and arcs of power splashed from Balthazar’s mighty slash running yards across the Dragon’s flank as faith and dark magics collided.
A battle that devotion lost as the Dark Lord's protection held. Drakkar’s scales were discolored and scored by the Knight’s attack, but he still stood.
Balthazar didn’t fare as well. He’d given it his all, but now he was vulnerable. An opportunity the Dragon didn’t pass up as his fearsome talons ripped though the air.
The holy blade’s bright light was extinguished. Arianna had no need to wait for her night vision to return to know the brave Knight had met his end.
The great tragedy was that the sacrifice wasn’t going to be enough.
Her keen hearing could still pick up the signs of the rest of their company fleeing down the canyon like pass. The Dragon would catch them between his hammer and the anvil of the trolls.
She didn’t need to count the few shafts remaining in her quiver. Even if she had it brimming over full, it wouldn’t be sufficient to stop Drakkar. She’d taken her best shot and failed.
Resolutely she put another shaft to bow. What would it be this time? Maybe a gust of wind from nowhere would ruin her shot? Or perhaps it would be some other chance happening as the protective spells thwarted her best efforts.
That would not keep her from trying. A good man’s life hanged in the balance. Even more lives were dependent upon him since King Phillip was the only ruler able to pull together an alliance to confront Lord Night. No other was trusted or was as capable as the man lying near death after being taken down by treachery.
Using all of her hard won skills, she loosed the grey goose feathers to fly yet again.
The Dragon flicked his head aside denying her another chance at perhaps his only vulnerability. He’d dealt with archers of her skill before as well as knowing who’d hurt him.
Still, having to protect his eyes slowed him buying yet another few seconds for her companions to try and fight their way to safety. Mentally she calculated her remaining arrows against the time he would suddenly charge forward chancing that she would have no time to loose another arrow. She stepped up her rate of fire so that she would have only one last shot, one last chance at the end.
Then John burst out of the pass trailing the exhausted remounts behind him!
Trained cavalry horses, they fanned out into a wedge advancing on the monstrous opponent.
“No!” She wanted to shout, but it came out as only a whisper.
In that strange way that life endangering stresses had, she could see his heart and soul within his eyes as he glanced back at her with his usual sad smile. In that timeless moment, the truth was impossible to hide.
This wasn’t a brave sacrifice of a man for his brothers or a selfless act of heroism. It was compassion. Like a woman giving her last breath away so that her loved ones would live, so did John as he rode out unarmed. In that instant she knew her guesses about him were correct.
Among her kind, such as he were the only males that could serve the Great Goddess. They were rare and revered individuals that had exceptional and unusual combinations of talents and strengths. He had the essence of a woman in the vessel of a man, a holy one, a T'thir.
However, if she didn’t expect John’s reckless charge neither did their foe.
Taken aback, the Dragon stopped his advance. The terrifying general of Lord Night’s armies took the same stance he had when Balthazar made his own ill fated attack.
She stood in the stirrups as her sharp ears heard John whistle the bugle call for the charge. Despite their fatigue, the well trained horses spread out in a rough line abreast formation their hoofs thundering as they surged forward.
Arianna held her breath seeing the telltales of the huge beast preparing to unleash his fire.
John sounded another whistled command that had the storming horses suddenly scattering like dandelion seedlings upon the wind. Again Drakar angrily eyed the equines and the single rider, but she could see the instant when he decided they weren’t a threat. Besides, he was aware that he had limited time to finish off the Company, and even he didn’t have a limitless supply of dragon-fire to spit at his enemies.
Drakar once more advanced on the pass.
She readied her last arrow for her final stand, while she sighed. True, John was now on the wrong side of the pass with Lord Night’s horde bearing down on them all, but he had the remounts and enough supplies that he might be able to work his way home. That anyone survived this night was going to have to be sufficient.
Arianna could only pray that the young ostler would find peace. Even in the sacred relevance her people held the T’thir, their lives were hard and often short. It was no easy thing to contain the essence of one thing in a vessel meant for another. And yet from that pain came wisdom and insight that enriched the all the Sylvan peoples.
Then to her horror the young fool circled back around to charge the mighty commander of Lord Night’s Armies again.
Tired and exhausted, most of the horses made their escape too terrified of the huge carnivore to do anything else, but flee. However not all, for three faithful equines took station with John running back headlong into certain death.
Again they broke off before coming into range of its terrible claws and fangs. This time Drakar pounced after them irritated by their impudence. The rocky ground trembled as did she. Beyond a doubt the dragon could run them down, but fate favored the ostler again as he used the ground to his best advantage. Yes, the Dragon could chase them down, but every step brought more time for their brave Company to make their escape.
Beast-wise a wan smile touched her lips as she realized, John was using the predator’s instincts against itself. Tired and no doubt hungry from its forced march like flight, the temptation to feed was great.
A roar of Drakar’s displeasure shook the mountain as he twisted, like the serpent he resembled, back to the pass where she waited.
Her shaft notched and ready she calmed herself preparing to spend her life in the service of her companions. Using her knees, she backed her mount further into the pass. Constrained, focusing on her enemy, she still prayed that John would make his escape. It saddened her that none would believe or maybe even ever know of his incredible bravery. No bards would sing of this. Just possibly, all their scarifies had been enough, but none of them would ever know for soon they would be journeying to their next life.
The Dragon was just entering the mouth of the narrow pass. Now his size worked against him in such close quarters. Now was her best chance. She slipped off her horse, although she was nearly as good an archer horseback as afoot. Nothing could be left to chance. Touching feathers to ear in one smooth draw, she prepared to loose.
Although Drakar’s bulk blocked the pass, from between his legs she saw John had wheeled around yet again. In an outstanding display of horsemanship he leaned over at a full gallop scooping up a weapon from the battleground.
No longer was he unarmed. Balthazar’s holy blade was clenched in his fist. That alone awed her, for it was said the blessed weapons would not tolerate the hand of one unworthy. There were more miracles as a pure silver light shined from the sword, a sign of clear approval from the Deities above.
However, once again it was John’s eyes that captured her. Despite the distance between them and the darkness even with Sylvan sight, she saw the peace and a tranquility that he’d never had before. Always alone, and hunched over from the accusing sneers of even their own Company, all that was gone.
He’d made his decision and found peace.
The bowstring hummed in its eagerness even as her muscles complained. Arianna shifted her aim as she made her own choice.
A grim smile crossed her face before her arrow struck Lord Night’s minion, a perfect shot.
He half-reared in surprise causing loose rocks to tumble from the pass’s walls. Startled he stopped, touching his stinging snout gingerly.
It was all so ridiculous, she couldn’t keep from laughing. There he was the insanely dangerous Drakar rubbing his muzzle like some dog that'd been too brave sticking his nose into some burrow where it shouldn’t have gone. Last and not least, there she was standing before him all but defenseless after wasting her last shaft.
All because she was giving a boy, who’d probably never held a sword before in his life, a chance at saving them all.
Even the Beast himself couldn’t resist the humor.
“Now you and all of your companions die!” His gravelly voice rumbled like an avalanche.
Why not she asked herself. Slinging her bow, she drew her fighting knives. Less than useless against a dragon, but if one was going to foolish why go halfway.
“It is a good day to die!” She shouted back defiantly.
A silent pray to the Goddess graced her lips because she refused to give her killer the satisfaction of knowing her fear.
The enormous predator gathered himself to pounce, but there behind him was a silver spark. She knew she should be watching the dragon, but instead she had eyes only for that sliver of light that grew ever closer. Slowly it became larger and brighter recklessly weaving though the dread general very legs. Like the silver lining behind dark ominous clouds it gave her hope.
Then John, having to hold the huge sword in both hands, drove it into the armored chest of the dragon.
Time stopped as Drakar looked down at the metal blade that’d skewered him. All the protective enchantments and magics proved useless against one small human.
Then the world exploded into light and fire as all those energies were released.
150 years later
Arianna closed the book she’d been reading with a sad smile. So pretentious of the author to claim it as the definitive book about what was known as the War of Night, when he’d been born a hundred years after the last battle was fought.
Her carriage creaked and swayed as it made its way down the pass road. Touching the book’s cover with her aged hand she smiled. Not even Sylvans lived forever, although she could understand how the much shorted lived humans might think so. Still it was amusing, how despite the facts that they refused to see.
It was so hard for them to grasp that a nobody had slain a foe that the mightiest of heroes had fallen before. It was even harder for the author to understand the true import of the battle on that night. So many humans still found the very idea of a T’thir anathema, and refused to even consider one had saved them all.
Shouts came from the carriage driver and other travelers as they spotted the horses sacred to this high valley. On either side of the carriage they ran as if escorting it inside. Arianna's smile grew wider. The silver coated animals were the descendants of the very horses that accompanied John on his charge and had escaped afterwards into the mountains. Inbreeding and other health problems somehow never touched the beautiful fleet footed equines.
By the same token it was said that none had ever been broken by the hand of Man. While one might offer to carry a rider, ill luck bedeviled those who tried to steal one away. However that did not stop the foolish humans from trying and adding to the stories of the bad fortune that came from their efforts.
Stepping off the carriage when it halted at the small way-station in the valley, she stopped for a moment remembering how it’d been that night they had raced death to reach this pass. Around her, footmen scrambled to unload the carriage’s luggage while her human attendants urged them to be careful with the lady’s baggage. Stable hands, at the inn, took charge of the horses while the driver stretched his legs.
Ignoring the bustle of activity, she made her slow way down to the small inn that served the way-station and the shrine here in the valley. Checking in didn’t take long, but she truthfully had no idea if she would even need the room. Sylvans not only lived much longer than humans, but tended to stay relativity active until their last breath.
Walking down the path from the inn, the shrine was easy to find. Just after the war she, herself, had planted the silver birch here to mark where John the young oslter, her friend, had fallen. In the years since, the tree had grown tall and had become famous in its own way.
A tear touched her eyes as a mismatched butterfly flew by. Half-male and half-female, one wing bigger than the other, it wasn’t alone. The whole shrine was graced with the beautiful flashes of color from them. She’d heard that even birds nesting within the shrine's high branches often shared the same characteristics.
Part male and part female, they were proof of the holiness here. Despite that some humans claimed it was contamination of the magics released here and needed to be cleansed. Something that would never happened since this place had been given by Good King Phillip himself to the Sylvan peoples at their request.
A young priestess of the Goddess hurried up the path to help her, but Arianna waved her away. Despite that she was helped to a bench among the flowers.
A small smile and head bob from the young one showed she understood and thankfully left Arianna there alone with her thoughts and memories.
Their brave company had made it back with the antidote in time to save the King. Using the treachery as a rally, Phillip had indeed put together the alliance to oppose Lord Night and his armies.
However, almost all missed the part of poor brave John. While the Sylvan peoples were aware of the danger the tyrant from the North posed, not all wanted anything to do with a war. One despised human ostler changed all of that. A T’thir giving their life against the threat meant a great deal. Having one of the revered and protected of the Goddess slaying the dread champion and incidentally proving that She, Herself, was behind the cause was yet another.
Every Sylvan capable of bearing a weapon came forward. Seeing their response, other nations felt embolden and also joined the cause. Many a terrible battles were fought, but in the end Lord Night and his armies were defeated. What she was sure of was that with out John’s sacrifice the death and destruction would’ve been much worse.
A sad smile crossed her lips as her eyes closed. It was during those horrendous years, that she’d first seen the silver horses of the valley. Every single surviving member of their brave company had their lives saved by one of the gleaming equines.
Not once, but twice she’d been saved herself by one of the fleet footed ones. The first time was after she’d been unhorsed in the terrifying running battle of the Three Armies, while the second was after being wounded in the forlorn hope of the Lost Woods.
Now she was the last of them all. So many friends and companions had gone before her into that last night. However, at the passing of each, a gleaming silver horse had appeared.
`A tear ran down her cheek. Arianna knew her own end was near. Despite protests from her family, she decided to save John’s horses the journey. Besides, there were places she wanted to visit one last time before closing her eyes that final time.
And now she was here.
A warm, moist muzzle nudged her cheek. Smiling, she looked up knowing what she would see.
One of the silver ones stood there swishing their tail as if irritated at her tardiness. Upon their back was a young, smiling woman holding out her hand to help Arianna mount.
A biting retort was on her lips. An old woman had no business leaping bareback as if she was a youngling. However, she found herself reaching out anyways.
Her breath caught as her hand that grasped the other was no longer that of a Sylvan nearing her ending. It was a slim and strong one in the bloom of youth.
Laughing, the woman a horseback gestured again with her hand.
Wonderingly, Arianna looked up into the woman’s eyes. A shock of recognition ran though her. Standing, she happily took the other’s offer resisting the urge to look behind her. All things change, and it was time for her to move on.
Joyfully with a laugh, she mounted, as her friend wheeled the argent equine about.
Laughing together, the two friends raced across the valley into the setting sun.
Thirty-four years ago Alan Glenn was the teenage superhero known as Vroom and a member of the government sponsored team, The Rocketeers. A tragic experiment gone wrong left him as the only survivor as well as without his once formidable powers. Now the government wants him to train another group of children to go into harm's way. Made an offer he couldn't refuse, perhaps they should have remembered he'd been once a hero! Once the Hero
by Grover |
Soviet Georgia 1975
The lonely, snow covered hills tall ice frosted trees hid the small, slim figure watching the train, below in the valley, puffing its way southward. Far had she traveled before being led here. She shivered, not because of the cold wind whispering though the trees, but because she now understood, only too well, what her friend used to say about riding the luck. Something really bad was about to happen down there, to that train full of people. As much as her instincts screamed for her to try to help, what could she do? Any one of thousand things could cause an accident, and although she knew beyond a doubt that a terrible disaster was looming, she had no idea whatsoever as to exactly what or how to prevent it.
Just thinking about her friend, whose gift she had inherited, caused her heart to tighten in painful spasms. Even after all the months that had passed since her entire world had come crashing in upon her, she was consumed by her grief and tears. Hugging her thin body, still wasted from the purging the tracking chemicals she’d been injected with, she stifled a soul tortured wail of grief.
Slowly, she regained control of herself. Those who’d caused the loss of her dear friends would pay. Above all, those responsible for her brother‘s death would suffer dearly. He’d been the last of her family, and now she was all alone. He was the reason why, despite the cry for revenge that beckoned her, she was determined that justice be done instead. Always her brother taught that, despite it coming from a comic book, ’With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility’ were words to live by. That they were all like Knights of the Round Table, protectors and role models.
About her, soft flakes began falling once more, covering her in a still white shroud. Her luck all but shouted at her. Shaking the frozen raiment away, she lightly hopped to the top of the icy crust. She ran lightly across the snow like a figure from myth and legend, to meet her fate, as fire and thunder found the iron machine down the hill below. This was the one place her watchers would never think to look for her. It was time to rejoin the human race. Behind her, the wind, and drifting flakes, left no traces of her passing.
Bikipedia:
Project Meridian; Captain Blazzar and The Rocketeers
Following the formal retirement of Major Victory, in protest over various anticommunist senators’ witch-hunts, and the other heroes that followed his example, the Pentagon found itself in an unpleasant situation. WWII had conclusively proved that supra-humans could be an enormous force multiplier in any conflict.
However, now it found itself without the services of those it had grown to depend on, because of the exodus. Falling back on good old American ingenuity, they decided to make their own. Despite the inter-service fight that followed, for the sole control of supra-human research, the Air Force presented the best case for being the most scientifically oriented in the mid 1950’s. The Navy, because of its different requirements, was permitted to run its own program, but it was understood that the Air Force would lead the national effort.
Next came the recruitment drive, searching for prospective candidates. Rigorous testing, and other screening techniques, revealed that supra-humans, able to match Major Victory’s level of ability, were extremely rare. Moreover, initial Ultra-soldier experiments revealed that the best results came from those that had already expressed what was being called the supra-human gene, or had yet to manifest it fully.
Despite some rare successes, the number of catastrophic failures convinced scientists that adults were not the best test subjects. They evolved the theory that the best subjects would be youngsters with the potential but had yet to manifest themselves. The problem was there was no way to screen for such specimens with the available technology. Researchers settled for next best thing; those who were just emerging from their metamorphosis.
Project Meridian was designed from the beginning to recruit, indoctrinate and enhance suitable youngsters for the purposes of National Defense. A number of approaches were tried, but the experimental Z-Ray 3 developed by the youthful prodigy Dr. Albert McClellan became the method of choice, after a string of relative successes.
The Z-Ray series (1-9) was an attempt not to further mutate the subject, but rather to energize or super-charge their existing powers and abilities. The drawback was the significant amounts of radiation that was a byproduct.
Much has been said of the lack of information about the participants of these early experiments. Although the Z-Ray experiments’ successes went on to become part of the Eagle Squadron, the Official US Supra Team during the 1960’s, no mention can be found of the failures.
Rumors and officials off the record, tell of truly horrendous fates for those failures, who were but children. Often, orphans were signed over to the government without question by their guardians. Many simply could not deal with these children’s mutations, and special needs. These unwilling child subjects, are forgotten victims of the Cold War, supra-power, arms race.
In 1962, when the American Eagle Squadron and the Soviet Red Guards clashed over Cuba, during the missile crisis, the world was just seconds from War World Three. It was this incident, more than any other, that pushed the world’s powers into negotiations that eventually led to founding of the UN moderated ULTIMATE in 1973, United Law-enforcement Tribunal for International Metahuman Affairs, Terrestrial and Extraterrestrial.
It had shocked Pentagon planners, that members of the Soviet Red Guard Supra-Team, while not as individually as powerful as their Eagle counterparts, were more numerous. Plans were drawn up to expand Project Meridian, but were left unimplemented because of political pressure from the UN, as well as the rest of the world. Research continued, but at a slower pace.
In 1969, the go ahead to fully implement the project was given by the White House, following the initial Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty (SALT) talks. It was felt that the US needed something more to bring to the bargaining table, to force a more favorable agreement.
The recruitment process was different from that previously used, given the change in attitude of the American public. The Anti-war movement was in full swing, as well as a growing distrust of heavy-handed government.
Dr. McClellan himself suggested using a “comic book” like Supra Team format. “What Kid doesn’t dream of being a superhero, at least once in their lives?” He asked.
His approach added a level of motivation to the experiment’s subjects, but also fueled a propaganda effort that printed grossly edited versions of their missions. The comic book was quite popular, and had generally acceptable art work, given it was government subsidized. Its popularity faded as better written, less obviously propaganda stories, attracted a more mature audience.
The subjects picked for Dr. McClellan’s Team included brothers Alan and Gus Glenn, Alicia Mercer, Douglas Knight, Jeff Fuller, and Joyce Sturm.
Alan Glenn: age 10 Mutation: super speed, enhanced physical prowess, and healing.
Gus Glenn: Age 14 Mutation: energy control, expulsion, and flight.
Alicia Mercer: Age 12 Mutation: greatly enhanced agility, flexibility, night vision and speed.
Douglas Knight: Age 13 Mutation: heighten awareness, hand eye coordination, and toughness.
Jeff Fuller: Age 10 Mutation: Abnormally lucky and enhanced physical prowess.
Joyce Sturm: Age 8 Mutation: greatly enhanced physical prowess, strength and intelligence.
They rejected team names such as Teen Eagles, Hero Cadets and others. Staging a mass strike, they pushed for the name Rocketeers, not surprising given how the space program dominated the news during this time.
Similar strikes also occurred during the assigning of individual code names. The Air Force backed down due to a number of issues, but primarily because, as one officer put it, “Well, it was a lot better than what we had anyways.”
The oldest, Gus Glenn, became the leader of the team, Captain Blazzer. Alan, his younger brother, as Vroom; Alicia Mercer, the Cat; Douglas Knight, the Sharpshooter; Jeff Fuller, as Fortune; and Joyce Sturm, as Sensation.
Their first exposures to Z-Ray 6 resulted in satisfactory increases in powers and abilities, by an average factor of seven. Little in the way of side effects made themselves known, with the possible exception of Vroom, who gained the reputation of being clumsy, and a klutz.
His super speed gave him the ability to keep from causing too much in the way of inadvertent damage, but some of his high-speed damage control was found to be greatly amusing, to onlookers.
The Rocketeers debuted in 1971, a year after their selection. They were generally effective and popular, outmatching their foes with their augmented powers. The dark clouds did not appear until two years later, when questions arose about the children’s welfare. To many, it looked as if they were nothing else than a weapon for the Air Force to pull out when needed, and then stuff back into their box.
Those concerns gained creditability when The Rocketeers were defeated, and several members injured, by the menace of Leviathan. Under pressure to contain the damage the huge unstoppable creature was causing, General Curtis Lafitte ordered Dr. McClellan to use the newest version, but completely untested, Z-Ray 9 upon the recovering Rocketeers. Although the scientist officially protested, he carried out the experiment, when it became clear that the General was going to go ahead, regardless of whether he resigned or not.
At first all seemed to be going well, until the last subject, Sensation, underwent the procedure. The exact details are unknown, but the experiment resulted in her death. That is when Captain Blazzar snapped. His Z-ray 9, augmented powers went wild, and he began blasting his way to General Lafitte’s office, whom he blamed for her death. With a complete disregard for the consequences, Captain Blazzar attacked anyone who got in his way.
Torn up by the death of their friend, the rest of The Rocketeers tried to stop Captain Blazzar‘s rampage. Completely berserk, he used a new power, gained from the Z-ray-9. Emitting an explosive energy pulse with the strength of a small atomic bomb, he badly damaged Area 61. He and Sharpshooter were killed, as well as badly injuring his brother, and Alicia Mercer, the Cat, who later died.
Conspiracy theorists, years later, claimed that is not what happened at all. Captain Blazzar had not died in the explosion. It was the intervention of Dr. McClellan, with the help of Sharpshooter and Fortune, that stopped his mega-manic killing spree.
According to the theorists, Fortune used an experimental dimensional portal, meant to imprison criminals too dangerous for normal prisons. Acting as a diversion, Sharpshooter, even though it cost him his life, managed to give his teammate the chance to get close enough to exile the out of control Captain Blazzer.
In both versions of the incident, Fortune, true to his name, walked away without a scratch. A year later, he committed suicide after suffering severe clinical depression because of the lost of his friends, that had been the only family he‘d ever known.
Vroom eventually recovered from his injuries and awoke from his coma, but lost his powers. Without those, the Air Force dropped him from the program into a foster home. Bitter about how he was treated, he ran away from the foster home early in 1975 and did not reappear, until making an appearance in 1989, to testify at the Senate Committee investigating the tragic incident. He has always refused to comment to the press, or agree to interviews, even after the truth came out.
Ironically, Leviathan, who had triggered this entire series of events, disappeared soon after defeating The Rocketeers. He did not reappear until months later in Central America, making General Lafitte’s decision to risk The Rocketeers, using the Z-Ray 9 experimental procedure, questionable.
The Meridian Project was forever closed, after the signing and ratification of the ULTIMATE treaties in 1975. Rumors persist that ultra-soldier programs are actively being pursued, regardless of government assurances that all such are things of the past.
Chapter One
Area 61
September 1, 2008
General Robert Laramie stood before the massive monitor in Area 61 command center. Technically Area 61 didn’t exist and this was only a small storage facility for the Office of Archives and Research. In reality, it was the Air Force’s research and development center for Ultra-Soldiers. They’d came perilously close to losing control of the project after that fool Lafitte screwed up back in 1974.
The bad judgment in using the Z-Ray 9 on The Rocketeers not only caused serious damage to the base, but also trashed his career. General Laramie was well aware that the projects under his command were of debatable legality.
Research on Supra-humans wasn’t prohibited, but was frowned upon. That was to prevent another Supra-human arms race like what happened in the Fifties though the Seventies. Investigations by Dr. McClellan’s team were still continuing, but were limited by prohibitions against experiments being conducted on human subjects as per the ULTIMATE treaty protocols. Limitations that the General admitted were being pushed to the letter.
McClellan might be a world-class flake, but he was one of the most brilliant men on the planet. His discoveries and inventions in genetics, biophysics and high-energy physics had earned him a suitcase full of patents, and won him not one, but five, Noble Prizes.
For the purposes of Area 61, he had any number of contingency plans for projects to produce Supra-humans to protect the United States and its interests. As the leader in the field, when he asks to speak to the commanding officer on a matter of importance, that officer had better listen.
Determined to maintain his command presence no matter how many Noble prizes this civilian had won, he all but demanded, “Why am I here Doctor? I’m a busy man.”
The balding scientist pushed up his glasses, still looking surprisingly youthful given he was on the high side of sixty. He clicked the remote, causing a graphic to appear on the big screen. “As you know General, our power is provided by a pair of fusion reactors. This morning we took note of a power drain that, at first, appeared trivial.”
The graphic showed the beginning of the power loss, and the sharp rise as time passed.
“Routinely, we traced it back to its cause. That took us a few hours, during which the drain continued to increase to worrisome proportions. We traced it back to the high security vaults, where sensitive or dangerous projects are stored, specifically, back to Vault Nine.” The old scientist said, rather nervously.
“Stop beating around the bush, Doctor. What is stored in Vault Nine?” General Laramie demanded.
“That would be the prototype, Looking Glass projector.” He replied, wiping his sweaty palms.
“In the past six hours the power demand to Looking Glass has jumped by a factor of ten. If this curve continues, our reactors will no longer be able to keep pace with the demand and the dimensional gateway will collapse. The Estimated Time of Wormhole Failure (ETWF) is three weeks bearing in mind that approximation will change as more data becomes available.”
The General studied the changing graphic. “Why would that be a problem Doctor? What kind of damage will this collapse of yours cause?”
Clearing his throat, the Doctor blinked before replying. “The artificial wormhole has been stable for almost thirty-five years. For it to collapse in this manner, more energy has been pumped into it from the inside, destabilizing the energy flow. There shouldn’t be any release of excess energy into our space time continuum, if my calculations are correct.”
Feeling tired of the run-around, the General barked, “Please come to the point Doctor McClellan. Just why should I be concerned about this?”
With his hands visibly shaking, he took a sip of water. “Captain Blazzar. We trapped him with the Project Looking Glass prototype thirty-four years ago. For him to generate enough energy to force open the gate, he has gotten more powerful. A lot more powerful than he was before. Enough so that he can produce more power than our two fusion reactors. The last time he generated explosive blasts on the order of one kiloton. Based on my equations, he will be able to exceed that by several orders of magnitude.”
“I see Doctor. You’re telling me we are about to have one of the most powerful supra-humans in recent history, dropping into the middle of my super secret military base? Is that correct?”
Clearing his throat nervously, the Doctor replied, “Yes General. If you’ll remember, he was on a berserk, insane killing spree.” Looking down at his notes, he continued, “The final count was 151 dead, including four of his own friends. Several hundred others were injured, including his only brother.”
The General recalled, “Yes. Alan Glen, Vroom the speedster, and the only surviving member of The Rocketeers. Very well, Doctor. As of this moment I’m reactivating Project Meridian on my own authority. I’ll have official written confirmation by tomorrow.”
Over his shoulder, he commanded his aide Captain Syn, “Alert my flight crew, and the Pentagon. I need an emergency meeting with the Director of OAR, and the Joint Chiefs ASAP.”
Turning back to the owlish blinking scientist, he directed, “While I’m gone it’s up to you to get the ball rolling. The database of suitable candidates is constantly updated, so finding participants shouldn’t be a problem. What we don’t have is someone we knows how to train a teenage supra-team.”
Decisively, he decided, “Get Alan Glenn. He has experience, and knows our opponent.”
Dr. McClellan stammered, “But he publicly denounced the entire Meridian program, and hates anything to do with the military.”
General Laramie gave Dr. McClellan a flint eyed stare, “You’re a multiple Nobel Prize winner Doctor. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Chapter Two
Charlotte NC
September 2, 2008
ETWF: 20 Days
Dr. Courtney Hathaway sweltered in the black, government SUV, that came with all the extras, including the required, dark tinted windows. Even with the air conditioner roaring at full blast, it couldn’t compete with the sultry, southern, summer day. Flicking out a compact mirror, she checked her makeup. This had better be worth it.
Addressing the aging project leader in the front seat, she asked. “Tell me again Doctor McClellan, why am I dressed like this?” She waved her hands at her tight red dress, more suitable to clubbing, or walking the street, than for convincing a unwilling, ex-superhero to become part of an illegal experiment, outlawed by international treaties.
Not looking up from his laptop, where he was watching news coverage of a local superhero’s exploits, he replied, “You see, Dr. Hathaway, Alan Glenn, AKA Vroom, lost his supra-human abilities after nearly dying from severe injuries, right after being exposed to Z-ray 9.
At the time, we surmised that his body, in trying to save his life, burned-out his powers. However, the Air Force dropped him from the program, when it was determined he no longer was supra-human. Against my recommendation, I might add. The phenomenon needed more study.
“Back to your question Doctor Hathaway, we have no idea if his powers have returned or not. It has been known to happen before, and one of Mr. Glenn’s talents was accelerated healing. He also has a demonstrated lack of respect for authority, which wouldn’t make his failure to report his correct status to ULTIMATE, as required by law, a surprise to anyone.”
She quickly identified the web site Dr. McClellan was watching and, using her own laptop, quickly located the recorded incident. Using her own specialized programs, she’d designed herself, she watched the entire clip in fast forward. Maybe, in his day, Dr. McClellan had been a wiz-kid, but her own mental functions and powers were superior to anyone she had yet met. It was easy to multi-task, and listen to him meander at the same time.
Courtney was ‘miffed’ that someone of her superiority was left playing nothing more than eye candy. She was responsible for procuring the project’s candidates. Courtney wasn’t anticipating any problems, but had found herself detoured for this experiment of Dr. McClellan‘s.
Still, the Doctor’s plan did have some merit. If Alan Glenn’s powers had returned, they should be able to determine that, since Vroom was known as a do-gooder, boy scout, risking his life for others. In addition, males were possessive, and if he thought he saved her life, that could give her more leverage into controlling his behavior.
She reviewed and summarized the taped news footage as the good Doctor spoke. A group of robbers, using military style tactics, tried to hijack an armored car. Dixie Belle, a star spangled blue clad heroine, intervened and easily crashed their party.
Courtney considered that, perhaps this Dixie Belle could perhaps be Alan Glenn, but immediately discarded the thought. Although gender switches connected to supra-humans weren’t unknown, this bimbo didn’t exhibit any of Vroom’s super speed powers, besides being 20 years too young.
She was inhumanly strong and agile, and she did make short work of even military trained and armed criminals. Impressive perhaps, but she was not a world-class talent like those who’d been exposed to the Z-ray. After a moment’s reflection, she decided that Doctor McClellan’s interest in the star-studded, blue suited floozy, was because of how curvaceously she filled out her uniform.
Snorting at his lecherousness, she knew it was only typical male behavior. Looking out of the dark tinted windows at the building across the street, she rolled her eyes at the sign. A hot rod pulled up front, and an aging man she recognized as Alan Glenn, climbed out.
Oh please! Not another walking testosterone factory, and who was apparently in a mid-life crisis as well. She could only wince, seeing the number of NASCAR signs, and racing oriented businesses she’d seen since leaving the airport. Like many in this hick city, he was just another man who was more like an overgrown child playing with his toys, than an adult.
Dr. McClellan nodded his head and their team prepared to get started. She opened her door and stepped out. It was show time.
Alan Glenn pulled up in his classic ’68 Fastback Mustang, beside the large custom neon sign advertising his business, Rocket’s Speed Shop. It was his way of honoring his fallen friends and family, but the business also supported him and his dozen or so employees. They provided customized engine work and parts for the thriving racing market near Lowe’s Motor Speedway.
John, his shop foreman, waved as the rest of his crew headed to the time clock, while Susan, his girl Friday, smiled at him as she entered her office. In reality, Alan left most of the day to day running of the shop to them now a days. In the beginning, he’d been right down there in the pits, busting knuckles with the rest of the guys. He’d jumped between turning wenches, to martini luncheons, while building his business.
Twenty years of hard work had paid off, and now, if he didn’t want to come in to work, he didn’t have to. In the racing business, travel was all part of the job. That was good. It was always good to be home, but he always got restless after awhile.
Besides the travel let him indulge in his quest, with no one being the wiser, which suited him just fine. Last night had been good. However, he had to be careful about appearances in his home town, but it’d been nice to keep his hand in. After all, what ULTIMATE didn’t know, didn’t brother him at all.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he, after checking to make sure no one was watching, vibrated his hands at high speed so quickly the liquid inside scarcely moved. In no time at all the coffee was piping hot from the induced fiction.
Sipping his morning brew, his eyes grew large as he looked outside. “Hello! What do we have here?” He thought as he watched the long legged brunette in the tight red dress as she tried to cross the busy street.
Even as his eyes were taking in the delightful figure, his brains were figuring the angles. It was still mid-morning in Charlotte, and far too early for the club scene. This city might have grown into quite the metropolis, but in this part of town, you were hell of a lot more likely to see women in a tight pair of jeans and boots, rather than this woman’s come-hither-now dress, and heels.
It didn’t add up. Anything was possible, but the only reason he was still alive was because he’d learned a lot since his Rocketeer days. ULTIMATE had been giving him some grief of late, but this didn’t seem like their style. Stepping outside, he spotted the Feds in their impossible to miss big, black, tank-like, SUV’s. Okay, that answered that question.
The next was, which agency was playing games with him, and what to do about it. The CIA had long given up trying to see if his powers had returned, in hopes of recruiting him on the sly. The FBI grudgingly decided, years ago that he had not broken any laws in revealing Top Secret information to the committee that was charged with investigating Project Meridian. It wasn’t binding to make 10 year old minors sign nondisclosure security agreements, maybe because kids had no business being around anything involving classified materials in the first place.
That left only the DOD, the Department of Defense, and since his contacts had kept him informed who was still running the show at Area 61, that meant the good ole boys in the blue, the Air Force. Well General “La Big Feet” had gotten canned after his screw up, that had killed everyone Alan had ever cared for, growing up. That meant that it was, more than likely Doc, and some other blue suited zoomie, who were trying to ruin his day.
Undoubtedly, this fem fatale was going to step out into traffic, and he was supposed to save her. Alan had to force himself not to shake his head. Jeez, they had even put her in a red dress. Who did they think he was, John Dillinger? Yeah, as soon as they saw him step outside, they started their little show. One of the Fed tanks started forward, just as the Lady in Red began to cross the street. Well, maybe he’d give them a clue that it wasn’t going to happen.
Alan raised his hand and whistled, “HEY, Lady watch out!”
The black truck screeched around the woman, proving that whoever was running this operation wasn’t totally incompetent. On cue, she fell, but Alan could tell she hadn’t been hit ,and it hadn’t got past him that another Fed, tank-like, SUV was blocking traffic, making sure no overly aggressive Carolina drivers accidentally, really hit their honey bait.
Deciding he’d go on playing his part, he snapped out his phone. Instead of calling 911, he called Susan his office manager. “Susan, call 911 and report an accident. If anything happens to me, please do what I discussed with you and John in case of any old ‘friends’ of mine showing up. Alright?”
Her concern for him showed in the lilt of her soft, southern accent. “No problem on number one, honey, but I can call John, and he’d have the boys out front lickity-split. You know they all can handle a little scuffle.”
He could hear her phone’s tones as she dialed emergency services. The Feds, seeing their charade had failed, were charging forward as if he was a wanted criminal. Maybe he was, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them that! Alan then saw a face he hadn’t seen in over 30 years. Damn, this was serious if Doc Mac was here in person.
“No Susan. Just follow my instructions.” He said, and closed his phone. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. No siree, not very nice at all. Thank you ma’am.
Alan raised his eyebrows as a mixed salad of black suited Feds, and Air Force Security ‘Cops’ jumped out, with their hands on their weapons.
Taking another sip of his coffee, he did his best to ignore them, despite all the bad memories. The thought did cross his mind about perhaps calling his lawyers, but he decided against it. Doc Mac was the big Head Cheese. The Feds would never have let him out here if they could help it. Nope, whatever they wanted from him, they were determined to get it, and bringing in his own legal goons, more than likely, wouldn’t help matters. All-righty then, play it by ear it is.
As he suspected, the uniformed goons kept their distance. They wouldn’t do anything until after Doc Mac made whatever demands he had in mind. Of course, they would use those dart guns he’d noticed they were all carrying, when he told Doc just what he could go and do with himself, because he had no intentions of going along with anything they wanted.
Alan judged the man walking up to him with different eyes than the ones he’d had at age 14. Not as tall as he remembered, and a whole lot less hair, but he certainly didn’t look the near 70 he had to be. More like a well preserved 60. Of course, the ever-present white lab coat was missing, replaced with a conservative gray suit.
Doc Mac had always treated him and the rest of The Rocketeers more like adults, than the prisoners Air Force goons did. However, it never got past any of them that Doc had something in the back of his eyes that was downright freaky. None of them ever forgot that, maybe friendly bumbling Doc Mac wasn’t nearly as nice as he made himself out to be.
That didn’t even count the fact that every time they got zapped by that damn giant ray gun, it was Doc Mac pulling the trigger. Yeah General “La Big Feet” might have given the orders that had killed the only family he’d ever known, but he’d never forgotten that kindly Doc Mac had built the frakking damn thing, and had pulled the trigger. Knowing what to look for, Alan saw, ‘Yeah, it was still there.’
Plastering a fake smile on his face, he greeted Doc as the scientist walked up with his escort of bodyguards. “Hey Doc! Long time no see. Did you ever get those Christmas cards I sent you?”
Without missing, a beat Alan turn to the Lady in Red who was right on Doc’s heels. “Hey there! Nice dress! It really goes with those shoes, but a little early in the day, ain’t it? I’m Alan Glenn, but seeing how you’re with Doc Mac, you already know that don’t you?
Courtney picked herself up, fuming. That moron driving the SUV had come close to actually hitting her. It that wasn’t enough, it was unbearably hot in this hick town, and the pavement, where she’d so dramatically fallen, had literally burned her.
Well, that either answered question of if whether or not Alan Glenn was a supra-human, or if he was still stupidly heroic. ‘Take your choice’ she thought, as she stormed across the street. She had looked liked a fool, since he had done nothing. The Air Force security detail formed up around her, blocking her view, but she had come too far to let Doctor McClellan upstage her.
Forcing her way past the circle of faceless muscle, she caught up with her project leader, just as he and the subject were exchanging greetings. She disregarded the comment he made about her dress. Determined to play this out to the end, she stuck her hand out at him, “Doctor Courtney Hathaway. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
Giving him a smile that never reached her eyes, she gave him a critical look over. He was a bit on the short side for her taste, standing about 5’7”. His longish hair was still coal black, and didn’t have that monotone look of dye. Even in this heat, he was wearing a worn leather jacket with a number of racing related patches. The rest of his clothing was bulky as well, no doubt hiding a ‘middle age’ spread, she judged. Still he didn’t look the 48 years his file claimed. ‘Perhaps late 30’s’ she thought.
More annoying, her Esper sense couldn’t get a good read on him. Normally she got emotions clearly, and often times words, and thoughts as well even without probing. It was all part of what made her a very effective psychiatrist.
Yet she could read Dr. McClellan quite well, but couldn’t read this washed up, ex-teenage superhero. Inwardly she sighed. There were those who she couldn’t read, and he just happened to be one of them. It was of no consequence. She would still get what she wanted. It would require playing on his ego.
“I have all of your Team’s books. It’s such an honor to meet you in person. She gushed, “I can’t wait to begin working with you.”
Alan Glenn jadedly answered her, “Yeah, right. Hey Doc! Would you mind telling Doctor…”he trailed off, as if trying to think of her name.
Despite his bad boy smart mouth, she could still feel his gaze on her breasts. Just like any male, as long as you controlled what he looked at, you controlled him. Perkily she spoke up helpfully, “Hathaway, Courtney Hathaway, Doctor of Psychiatry.”
He gave her a sarcastic smile. “Hey Thanks! Hathaway, Courtney Hathaway, Doctor of Psychiatry, all that comic-book crap was propaganda, and I would rather have her give me a Brazilian wax job than work with her, or any of you.”
Dr. McClellan spoke calmly, ignoring his outburst, “Hello Alan. It has been a long time. I never got any Christmas cards, but I understand that I have you to thank for that Special Senate investigation committee subpoena I received.”
Alan smiled replying, “No hard feelings Doc? After all, I had to thank you somehow, for making me glow in the dark for most of my childhood. Oh, I forgot. You were just following orders. But hey, bygones are bygones.”
Courtney didn’t miss the hardening of his eyes when he continued, “Speaking of which, nice to see you. Sorry to see you have to go so soon. Bye, and please stay gone.”
Her boss shook his gray head, saying, “Alan, you know it doesn’t work that way. We are reactivating Meridian, and we need you.”
Alan’s eyebrows shot up as he guffawed, “Oh that’s rich Doc! Here I am almost fifty, and you’re trying to irradiate me again? Wasn’t it enough what happened to The Rocketeers?”
“You misunderstand Alan,” Dr. McClellan explained. “We are going to recruit another team. You’re going to train them.”
The auto repair shop owner just started laughing, ignoring the horde of armed men surrounding him. “Doc, I thought you said you were going start zapping kids again! That is so damn funny. Hey, let’s not forget that Meridian was shut down by an act of Congress. And, what about the whole project being illegal by international treaty?”
Laughing so hard he bent over he gasped out, “You know what the funniest part is Doc?”
Courtney was getting the feeling that this wasn’t going to plan, but that Dr. McClellan wasn’t surprised by Alan Glenn’s reaction. The old scientist shook his head.
Waving his hand at all the armed men about him, he looked up. “That all of you expect me to go along with any of this. The mighty Air Force dumped me like last week’s garbage when I wasn’t of any use to them any more, after keeping me as a virtual prisoner for 4 years. Oh I wasn’t going to mention my Team, and the only family I ever had, that the boys in blue here managed to get killed, but since you’re talking about ruining another group of kid’s lives, I will.”
As he stood straight, no longer laughing, Courtney blinked her eyes, seeing something she hadn’t expected. He might have been lusting for her body, but this redneck hick had iron, no, steel in him. He knew the men around him were there to bring him in, and he simply didn’t care. This man had once faced the most intimidating supra-criminals on the planet, and if it’d been long ago, the steel within was as strong as ever.
Meeting Dr. McClellan eye to eye he said softly, “Let me put it another way Doc. Hell frakking N, O, no.”
The old scientist said back just as evenly, “It wasn’t a request Alan.”
The tension ran wild as Alan acknowledged, “I know.”
Security fired the first dart at the Doctor’s nod.
In a smooth move, Alan avoided the dart and grabbed the Air Force sergeant’s arm. With a twist, he caused the hapless man to shoot one of his own men. He whirled the drugged man around as a shield, as the unfortunate man got hit by several more darts, as others fired their one shot weapons.
Courtney found herself in the unusual position of being surprised again. Her Esper power had given her no warning before Alan Glenn had erupted into action. In the space of only a second, two of their escort were neutralized. Three more stepped forward with handheld tasers, ready to subdue the unexpectedly difficult subject.
They had no more luck than their first two comrades. The first was disarmed, while the last pair tasered each other. Intently analyzing his performance, she decided that if what she saw wasn't supra-abilities, then he must be very, very good.
She directed the remaining security personnel to back away, out of hand-to-hand range, and to reload. Hurriedly she and the good Doctor got out of the way, leaving them clear to shoot. The next dart harmlessly hung in his leather jacket, and she heard Doctor McClellan telling them to shoot at his legs. The following shot would've missed too, but Courtney gave it a little telekinetic assistance, making sure this one hit the target.
He folded, as the fast acting drug took effect.
Standing over him, Doctor McClellan remarked, "I see you have gotten over that strange clumsiness of yours."
Just before he passed out Alan muttered, "I love you too Doc..."
Courtney asked, "Doctor, what was that? I thought Vroom's powers were super-speed.
Cleaning his throat he pointed out, "Indeed Vroom could run at near supersonic speeds, but what we saw here today was simply training. After he lost his powers and ran away from that foster home, he continued studying self-defense, and the martial arts, just in case any of the criminals The Rocketeers fought, came after him. He has black belts in any number of disciplines, as well as a concealed carry license." He inclined his head, as one of their security detail removed the automatic pistol from under Alan's jacket.
"I do believe you have several stops to make, picking up our candidates. We have much to do, and little time. However, I think since Mr. Glenn is unconscious, it would be a perfect time for an examination." The Doctor dismissed her, as Alan Glenn was loaded into a waiting ambulance.
Standing there for a moment, as the Air Force security men helped their roughly handled comrades up, she considered what had just happened. Clearly, she’d been underestimating Doctor McClellan. Her little red dress act hadn’t been the only test of Alan Glenn this morning.
The Doctor had definitely known how Alan Glenn would respond to news about Project Meridian. He had also known about the martial arts training. That fight had only been another test.
She looked back at Rocket's Speed Shop, at the faces there, watching what had happened. There were no real worries, for security would take care of those irritating things like camera phones and such. It seemed there was more to this than she'd suspected.
Courtney put aside that thought for later. She did have much to do. Without a second thought, she climbed into the waiting transport to the airport.
Susan, the office manager, stood next to John, the shop supervisor, as the last of the plain clothes security cops left. Blandly polite, the cops had taken the recordings of the fight from the shop’s security cameras, and given some vague explanation about national security concerns.
Neither had to voice what they were feeling. Working at the same place for twenty years had given them a closeness most married couples lacked. Giving each other a look, she said it first, "Damn them!"
He spat a wad of chew tobacco into the cup he carried in agreement. Jerking a grease stained thumb at the office safe he asked. "You ready?"
Together they opened the safe and took out the sealed packet. Inside were the letters giving them temporary control of the business till Alan could return. He had set that up years ago, in case of something like this. Someone else might have worried about them stealing his business, but not Alan. He trusted them, and besides the way he paid them, they probably came out ahead, letting him get the ulcers from stress of being the owner.
Then they came to the other sets of three letters. Each applied to different ways their boss came up missing. Taking the ones for being picked up by the government, they looked at the instructions he’d left for them. One letter went out airmail, with the usual office correspondence. Another was mailed by one of the guys in the shop, following John's orders to the letter, to drop it into a random mailbox. The last was sent FedEx by Susan's husband, who was wondering what was going on, that his wife made him make a special trip to the post office.
Chapter Three
Leavenworth, Kansas
September 3, 2008
ETWF: 19 Days
Joshua Dean decided the world sucked. He'd never been one of the popular kids, but still he’d been doing alright, surviving the hell that was high school the best way he could. He’d made it all the way to junior, and had just one more year to go. Then he had to mutate. The only obvious changes were his eyes, which had changed to a brilliant rainbow swirl. Then he had faded out of sight, while in the middle of class. Invisibility sounds like a cool thing until you start getting hard stares from the girls when you get too near their locker room.
What sucked was he hadn't even done anything! Now this, he thought, watching the three trolls stalk toward him. He knew what they wanted. Ever since those stupid cheerleaders had accused him of sneaking into the female showers, the dumb-ass trio had been after him to take a camera into the locker room to do just that.
What sucked even more was, if he just faded out to avoid these idiots, he would get in trouble for using his powers at school. Not that he had much of a choice. It was that, or let these knuckle draggers beat the crap out of him.
As he faded out of view, Joshua gave the angry trio a sarcastic wave.
From down the hallway he heard the vice principal Donner yell out, "Joshua Dean! My office now."
Yeah, his life sucked.
Dothan, Alabama
Malak Thorpe floated along, watching the fluffy clouds above. She mused it wasn’t all that different from last year, floating in their swimming pool back in LA, except of course she was a good twenty feet off the ground, drifting along just under the treetops. Lazily, she rolled, facing downward where her twin brother Malik was stomping though the forest shortcut from school.
Standing at near 6’ at only 15 years old, he already had a body builder’s physique, that he’d been working hard at since they were ten. A natural athlete, he’d started playing sports almost before he could walk. It didn’t matter what it was; baseball, football, soccer, or any other sport, he excelled.
Then the world came crashing in on them. Their father and mother had been killed in a robbery attempt at the bank where they worked. They’d moved from LA to their Grandma’s home in Alabama.
The shock of going from the big city to a very rural one was bad enough, but although they had visited often during the holidays, it wasn’t the same as actually living here. It didn’t help at all that they didn’t fit in at all. Mom’s family was lower income black, while Dad’s had been upper class white.
Growing up, they had heard the love story of how their parents had met and fell in love. He was a finance major, and she was there on a business scholarship. Granddad Thorpe had almost had a heart attack when Dad had asked Mom to marry him they’d been told. It was hard to believe the jolly old man who’d bounced them on his knee had ever been like that.
Still, they had seen racism, but really, it hadn’t been too bad. Their Mom had taught them how to cope. Look them in the eye, work twice as hard, and be four times better. Besides, there’d been lots of kids from all over the world at their school, so they didn’t stand out.
What neither of them expected, was the discrimination from the blacks at school here. Even before they’d mutated, the ‘brothers and sisters’ were calling them mutants because of their appearance. Dad had been a handsome red head, and Mom an African American beauty.
The mixing of the two hadn’t turned out too well, in her opinion. From their Dad they’d gotten their very pale skin. What didn’t help was, their very dark freckles gave them a peppered look. The red hair also came from Dad, but its kinky texture was all from Mom. They both also got their strong faces from their Mom’s side of the family. At least that is what she called it.
Malak hated the way she looked, even if she had to admit that, below the neck they had almost made up for getting the wrong everything for their faces. Her brother didn’t have much of a problem with it, but he didn’t have try and match makeup to her impossible shades.
It’d been hard, but they’d followed their Mom’s advice, and were making it work. Grandma Carter hadn’t been in the best health, but working together, they’d helped as much as they could. Then another disaster, within days of each other, they’d both gotten sick and mutated.
Outwardly, nothing had really changed, except if you looked hard, their eyes had gotten even darker. Inwardly was another matter. Malik had gotten stronger and tougher. His muscles and bones had changed into something stronger than mere flesh and blood. Even his skin was more resilient.
Malak might have changed even more than he, because she could fly! The doctor that had examined them thought she might be tapping into the Earth’s magnetic field or something. What she knew was she could fly though the air, almost as if she was swimming. She loved being able to soar.
For Malik though it was a total catastrophe. No school, no league, no team would let him play. Even his hobby of weight lifting had lost its appeal. Even the heaviest set he had was easy for him to lift now. Once he’d dreamed of going pro after school. A dream that’d been crushed. Without the outlet sports gave him, he’d grown moody, and she worried about him.
There’d been incidents where the bullies at school were pushing to see just how far they could go. Didn’t the morons know her brother could turn any of them into paste? Well she knew they weren’t all that bright, and suspected that the smarter others were egging them on just so she and Malik would get in trouble with ULTIMATE. As if that wasn’t enough to worry about, all this had put even more stress on their Grandma. Malak knew the old woman was worried. What would become of them if anything happened to her?
Inwardly she repeated her mother’s mantra, work twice as hard and be four times better. Approaching their Grandma’s house, nestled back in its grove of tall southern pines, she saw them first. A black SUV was parked out front. She had a bad feeling about this, but saw no need to let her brother know just yet. Malak was learning why some said ignorance was bliss.
Augusta, Maine
Waiting in the cafeteria line, Amanda De Winter brushed her dark hair from her face, as the light breeze teased it. She did the best she could to pay the snickers behind her no attention. She couldn't believe that her former friends would turn on her so quick. It wasn't her fault that she was a mutant.
They'd been friends since the first grade, and now, nothing. Other kids had mutated, and had a hard time fitting in too. But these had been her friends! Now the only time they talked was to make her life hell. She had even had to change her cell phone number, because of all the nasty text messages.
She knew she should be thankful that she didn't change into something that didn't even look human, like some mutants did. Like others, her eyes had changed dramatically. Her blue eyes were now a stormy gray, but her sandy blond hair had darkened to a dark blacker than black, mass of curls.
Her powers made every thing worse by continually causing a breeze near her making her hair dance in response to her moods. People were always aware something was different about her, as the breezes swirled about her, even when inside. It wasn't fair!
A sharp shove from behind almost made her fall!
"Move it Breezy, you’re making all the food grow cold" A voice haughtily demanded, as her ex-friends stepped around her.
Amanda felt her face burning in embarrassment and anger. The unfairness and the scorn from her turncoat friends pushed her across a line. So, they’re worried about their food being cold?
In front of her, they were busily scooping what passed in the high school cafeteria for food, onto their plates. Behind Amanda was a different story, as the students saw her hair stop its playful dance to flow out behind her as if she stood in a storm. Lunch forgotten, they got out the way, not wanting to be caught in whatever was going to happen next.
Ashley felt a chill creep up on her. She knew it had to be that mutant bitch that had pretended to be a real person. She was going to turn around, and threaten it, until she saw her, once steaming, mashed potatoes sparkle with a covering of icy frost. In disbelief, she watched as all of her friends trays got the same treatment.
She screamed as she touched the frozen potatoes, and her finger stuck to the subzero, cold lump. The icy stuff burned like fire!
Amanda's head slumped forward. She knew she was in trouble. When she had been evaluated by ULTIMATE, she had been warned about using her powers. She knew it would be useless to say she’d been provoked. It just wasn't fair.
She just stood there in sorrow, as the lunchroom monitor hurried to the emergency.
Amanda couldn't think how her day could get worse, trudging home. The school headmaster had sent ULTIMATE the official notice that she had used her powers, and another student had been injured. Give her a break! That skag Ashley had only gotten a tiny spot on her finger frost-burned.
The sky above was cloudy and overcast, the usual for the great state of Maine. With a thought, the clouds thinned and the sun started to shine though the holes. There she thought. “That’s better.” At least it looks more cheerful. Feeling a little more upbeat, her mood lasted until she got home.
There was a big, black SUV parked in front of her house. Curious, because they never got visitors, she looked closer. Seeing the license plates, her heart fell. It had gotten worse. She might only be sixteen, but she knew nothing good ever came in a government vehicle.
The air swirled about her as she went inside, knowing she wasn't going to like what she found inside.
Baraboo, Wisconsin
William Riegel kept his head hunched down as he heard the bikes coming up fast from behind him. It'd been bad enough to be teased all his life about being fat. There was no use telling anyone it was genetic. Everyone from his little sister, to both sets of grandparents, were 'heavy boned' as his mother kindly put it.
Then one day in school, his hand had slowly lengthened, stretching all the way to the floor. It had scared him so badly that they had to sedate him. When he woke up, his dad and mom told him, he had become a supra-human. He was like Grandpa Fred, who could ignore the coldest weather, and had endless stamina. His powers were stretching, and not to worry, he would learn to use them quickly.
They'd been right. He'd quickly caught on how not to accidentally stretch, but learning to use them when he wanted to was something else. The best part was, he wasn't fat anymore if he didn't want to be. His body was fully pliable, and he could look like anyone. All he need a mirror, and a picture.
He had discovered that accidentally one day, while looking at some magazines. His mom would kill him if she ever found them. Bill had wanted so much to be able to touch one of those, so beautiful women, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be one too.
Then suddenly, he was her! Shocked, he'd just stared at the centerfold model that he'd become. She was so gorgeous that he didn't want to change back! Realizing that had scared him so bad, he hadn't dared to try it again for almost two whole days.
Then he had broken down. Bill just had to try it again. There was shame and embarrassment. He was a boy right? Big, bad and mean, and not scared of anything. Wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? How come it didn’t feel that way? Looking at the undeniable feminine figure in the mirror, it just felt so right.
Bill found himself experimenting with becoming different women while mixing and matching their different features. It was so fascinating that he couldn't stop. He wanted to tell his parents, because he knew they were aware something was up. But, how do you tell them, anyone, something like this?
Then he got careless, and someone from school saw him change. Bill never did discover who, but somehow word had gotten around. Being fat had been bad enough. Then he was a mutant and things had gotten worse. Now things had hit rock bottom, with him being called a sissy, and faggot.
He didn't know what to think about that. Having discovered girls, he was pretty sure he wasn't gay. Bill liked girls. He liked them a lot. It was just that he want to be one too. Not that it would do him a whole lot of good to explain that to the bullies after him right now. The good news was, since he was so pliable, physical stuff mostly just bounced off. Mostly, because he'd found that, if it was really cold, it still hurt. This was Wisconsin, it was always cold!
"Why couldn't they just leave me alone?" he thought, as a tear fell.
He fell forward as the boot kicked him in the back.
Austin, one of the nastiest bullies at school, rode by on his bike, with a cigarette dangling from his lip. A heartbeat later the rest of the teenage hoodlum's wanna-be gang breezed by.
Sliding to a stop blocking his way, they laughed at him, sprawled on the sidewalk. They were laughing at him.
Stone-Cold Austin took a drag on his cigarette, feeling on top of the world. He'd shown that mutant sissy who was boss. “Hey, why had everyone stopped laughing?”
His victim was back on his feet, but there wasn't any of the expected fear in his eyes. Those black eyes showed only hate, and the anger of someone who wasn't going to take it anymore. Crap, maybe he had misjudged the pansy!
That was his last thought, as a fist snapped at him from 6 feet away, sending him into unconsciousness.
Bill knew he shouldn't have fought back. No matter what he did, he was going to end up in trouble. Still it had felt good to get some of his own back on his tormentors. Seeing the black government SUV in front of his house, all of his satisfaction disappeared, as his stomach turned into knots.
He knew his mom and dad had been talking about sending him to a special school out east somewhere, but what did the government have to do with that? Walking in, and seeing the two well-dressed representatives with their brochures and pamphlets, he knew this wasn‘t good.
“Honey,” His mom greeted him. “You know that school for students like you, we were talking about? Well they are representatives from another one, that has tuition assistance for families like ours.”
Boston, Massachusetts
Unhappily, six-year-old Elizabeth Tyree hugged her stuffed bear, Mr. Ted E. Bear. It wasn’t her fault! She didn’t mean to break those things. It was just that things broke all the time now. Sniffing, she knew she was in trouble this time for making Jeffery stop bothering her and the rest of the girls while they’d been playing.
He was always making fun of them, and saying bad things. This time she’d made him stop. Now everyone was mad at her! Her teacher sent her to the principal’s office, and her mommy had showed up too.
She’d been scolded about scaring Jeffery, and told she could’ve hurt him. Lizzie didn’t mean to. It had all gone wrong a few weeks ago, and her Mommy and Daddy had taken her to the hospital. They said she was one of the youngest muta-somethings they had ever seen. All she knew was, she was accidentally breaking all her toys, and getting in trouble all the time.
Her door opened, and Mommy came in with another woman.
Wiping her eyes, and trying to be a good girl, she timidly stood, still clutching Ted E. Bear.
“Elizabeth,” Her mother said, “This is Miss Hathaway, and she is going to be your new teacher. You’ll be going to a special school.”
Lizzie didn’t hear the rest of what Mommy said. As the tears began to fall again, she knew she was being sent away because she’d been bad. Crying, she begged them not to. She would be good, and not break anything ever again, but no one listened.
Chapter Four
Area 61
September 4, 2008
ETWF: 18 Days
Alan woke on an uncomfortable examination table. Grimacing at his headache, he sat up. Glancing down at the medical gown he was wearing; he guessed Doc Mac hadn’t wasted any time probing where he wasn’t wanted. There were guards at the door and, looking around, he recognized the room, Area 61.
Shaking his head, it figured. His brother, when he’d blown up, had been topside. All the underground stuff had been built to take a nuclear blast anyways. Hell, most of this place was buried anyways. He shouldn’t be surprised it survived. Disappointed, but not surprised.
His clothes were neatly folded on a nearby chair. Well, nothing for it, he wagered. Slipping off the bed, he started a warm up, tai chi form. It was just thing to help him judge if anything had been done to him. Gracefully, he flowed into the deceptively slow motion art. Quickly he found the places where blood had been drawn. Harder to find was the spot on his back.
A slow spin in the mirror, which he knew was two way, revealed the slight discoloration and the bump of an implant.
Some dogs just can’t learn new tricks. Some thirty years ago they had stuck trackers, monitoring devices, and all kind of other junk just under the skin of him, his brother, and their friends. Not just to keep an eye on them, but to control them. Just before he’d run away he’d performed a little surgery, and yanked that damn thing out. Much harder to get rid of had been the injected chemicals that would've allowed him to be tracked. All of it had been extremely unpleasant.
Alan guessed that this was more of the same, although it did bear thinking that this most recent device might have some truly nasty things in it. Plus, they put it somewhere difficult for him to reach. Taking a deep breath and centering himself, he didn’t sense anything else.
Right, it was time to get dressed. He just finished taking inventory of his belongings, not surprised to find his phone and weapon missing, when the welcoming committee barged in. In front was some blue uniformed type, with his hat covered in the ‘scrambled eggs’ embroidery reserved for general officers. Trailing ‘Eggs’ was the usual entourage of lower ranking ass-kissers and go-fers.
Doc Mac was hovering at ’Eggs’ right, with his own flock of hanger-on’s following him, looking like a flock of geese in their white lab coats.
“Hey Doc,” Alan greeted. “I remember this place. I thought it had all been blown to smithereens, but no such luck. Too bad.”
Doc Mac didn’t say a thing, deferring to the uniformed Air Force General trailing the usual entourage of aides and guards.
“Still the loose cannon Glenn? Where were you for the 14 years, after you left the Project?” Grated ‘Eggs’ at him.
Alan stared at the General before the name came to him. Widening his eyes in mock surprise. “Hey it’s Lieutenant ‘Lying-To-Me’ Laramie! They made you a General? Our military must be in worse shape than I thought.”
Ignoring the shock of the lackeys at his disrespect, he continued, despite the dangerous scowl on the General’s face. “Do as you‘re told and your families can visit,’ or do you remember ‘if you’re good, you can go home for Christmas?” He mocked the man in blue.
Raising his voice in a growl the General warned, “That will be enough of that Mr. Glenn. The question stands. You disappeared without a trace from 1975 to 1989. We looked for you because of security concerns. Where were you?”
Alan raised his eyebrows. Laramie would have a coronary if he ever found out, but as attractive as that thought was, some secrets had to be kept. “Security concerns? Are you slow? I told everybody I could! That’s why this joint got investigated by a Senate Committee. Not that it did any good, but by Gawd I tried.”
Laramie’s face twisted sourly, as he remembered that unpleasantness. Changing the subject, he got back to business. “We have a situation warranting the reactivation of project Meridian. You have been brought here to train this new batch of candidates. For your time and efforts, you will be very well compensated.
Sarcastically, Alan rejoined, “What could possibly justify putting more kids’ lives in jeopardy? What’s more, what right do you have to kidnap me? All of this is forbidden by the ULTIMATE accords. I’ve done well for myself, and my people, and I don’t need your money. There ain’t a single reason in the world for me to go along with this!”
Not backing down an inch, the General got in Alan’s face, “You are wrong Glenn. First, you don’t have a ‘need-to-know’. Second, you’re not covered by ULTIMATE since you lost your powers.”
“Third, the subjects are wards of the Federal government, and so bypass the directive against supra-humans working for a national government. Fourth, in case it has escaped you, the IRS is a Federal agency. I’m sure they could find some tax irregularity in your business, if they looked hard enough, Glenn.” The General spat out, like a man holding all the cards.
“Lastly we are going to try other techniques to augment your protégés abilities first. We have learned a lot in the last thirty years. You are our resident expert in teenage supra-teams. Get them to cooperate, and get with the program, so they show progress. If it works, we’ll have no reason to use our fallback plan of using Z-ray 13.”
Self-satisfied, he pulled out a cigar from his pocket. His aides fell over themselves lighting it for him. “We know of your martial arts instructor background, as well as your business and history degrees. You are qualified.”
Puffing smoke in Alan’s face, he demanded, “So, shut the hell up and do your job. I will have Meridian ready when it’s needed, no matter what it takes. Are we clear?”
Blinking at the foul smoke, he knew that he did not have a choice. Alan glared back, “Crystal, Sir.”
“For the duration of the training, you’ll go by your old code name, Vroom. Until a tactical commander is chosen it’ll be Captain Vroom, since you‘ll be nominally in charge.” The General chuckled, amused at his own cleverness. “Captain Vroom. I like the sound of that.”
Secure in his own omnipotence, he turned on his heel, leaving his boot-lickers gagging on the foul smelling smoke, and struggling to follow. A few of Doc Mac’s civilian gaggle, with lesser constitutions than their military counterparts, were throwing up in the corner from the stench.
Alan sarcastically smiled again, “Good ole Area 61. Just like I never left, eh Doc? Captain Vroom? Someone should tell that idiot that I lost any powers I had, 34 years ago.”
Doc pushed up his glasses, and tried to reason with him. “Alan, I know, better than most, that you have cause to be angry and upset. There are good reasons why Meridian is back, and the new techniques have every potential to achieve the project’s goals.”
Quirking an eyebrow he replied, “So do my job of convincing these kids, who have been all but kidnapped, to do what you want or you’ll zap them like you did to us? Excuse the hell out of me Doc, but that‘s a load of crap.”
Alan jerked his thumb at the General’s receding smoke trail. “It sucked wind when Lieutenant Lying-to-me did it to me, my brother, and our friends. He must think it’s a hoot, trying to force me to do the same things he did to us.”
Looking Doc in the eyes, he said, “I got news for everyone. I’m not lying to these kids. Oh I’ll do the best I can, if for no other reason than to keep you from making them glow in the dark.”
Looking hurt out from over his glasses Doc Mac replied, “Alan, I’m not the villain here. At one time we used be friends, regardless of our age difference. All we’re asking is that you do your best. Even if you were to fail, the newest Z-ray 13 is much safer than the old Z-ray 9. We have run countless computer simulations that give a high degree of confidence in its operation.”
Picking up his jacket and heading for the door, Alan looked over his shoulder at Doc, “You have no idea of how warm and fuzzy that makes me feel. Never mind giving me the tour, I know the way.”
Without another word, he walked out past the guards.
End of Part 1
You Can't Put A Speed Limit On Justice!
Chapter Five
Area 61
September 5, 2008
ETWF: 17 Days
Courtney hated being away from Area 61. This was where things were happening, and she didn’t like playing catch up. Being absent, and not able to guide events in her best interests, annoyed her. She had learned, as a child, not being in control was a bad thing. You were left at the mercy of others. If you wanted things to work out in your favor, you had to make them.
As a supra-human, she chaffed under the restrictions ULTIMATE placed upon her. The list was a long one, but the worst was that she was forbidden to work directly for the government because of fears it would use her abilities against other countries. Her employers had used a loophole, that she worked for a company with a government contract, an absolute fiction.
She was ambitious, but the very same qualities that gave her the edge over competitors in the corporate world, made many smaller private companies leery of hiring her. The large multi-national companies were always looking to hire employees with talents like hers. Although she still could’ve thrived in the cold-blooded, shark infested waters of big business, she still wanted more.
Courtney knew the ink hadn’t even dried on the ULTIMATE accords before the Office of Archives and Research had been formed. It was a deep, black operational cover for all of the United States’ Supra and Para normal resources. Let the UN Security Council monitored ULTIMATE blunder about trying to take care of the world’s mutant problems.
The United States of America was not about to put its security concerns about anything into anyone else’s hands, much less something as important as the supra-human question. Area 61 wasn’t OAR’s only installation, but it was the biggest, concerned with creating and empowering supra-humans.
There was power here, and she wanted it. First, there was security provided by the Untied States military that kept the mutant haters away. Second, hidden from the public, many laws didn’t apply here, and it was the ones in charge that made the rules. Perhaps she wasn‘t the one in command, but she’d long ago became adapt at manipulating others who were.
Finally, there was the potential for power beyond anybody‘s dreams. This was where the very secrets of the universe were being unlocked. Supra and Para-normals were the gods and demigods of the modern age. From the golden Heroes, such as Major Victory, to the terrors of Professor Mortis, they were individually as powerful as armies, in their own right.
Here was the forge of Vulcan, and Pandora’s Box, together in one neat package. Courtney was in the perfect position to direct the actions of the world’s next generation of gods. Members of The Rocketeers had been some of the most powerful supra-humans of their time. They had fallen, only because their masters had dared reach for too much, and like Icarus, they had fallen.
She promised herself she would be more cautious. General Laramie was almost too easy to twist, but Doctor McClellan was turning out to be more of a player than she’d anticipated. It was something to bear in mind. Since she’d first become aware of the possibility of multiplying a supra-human’s power, she’d wondered if hers could be as well.
Courtney wrote her reports of the successful mission, and contacts with the Meridian candidates’ families, on the flight back. None had given her any significant problems. She did find it ironic that it was the poorest of the five that resisted her the most, while the most influential had been the easiest to convince to sign over full legal guardianship of their children.
Additionally, William Riegel’s parents gave her reason to be cautious, dealing with them. There was a history of supra-humans in his family, and that made influencing them with her powers, risky. You never knew when you might run across another telepathic mutant, hiding in the closet. The financially struggling family had been contemplating sending their son to The Academy, because of troubles he’d been having in school, because of harassment since his mutation.
Courtney had gone to The Academy herself, and knew the school for the supra-human had generous scholarships. The Riegel family couldn’t manage even with that help. She had only to offer a more attractive finance package. Of course, they didn’t know they had just sold their son. All it took was a little legal slight of hand, and a touch of Esper suggestion.
If the boy’s family proved to be a problem in the future, they would receive news that William had been involved in some horrible accident, that required a closed casket funeral. As for the boy himself, she’d seen some interesting possibilities in her preliminary scan of his mind.
The buzz of the intercom interrupted her thoughts. “Ma’am this is Major Vasquez, the Duty Officer. We have Captain Vroom in an unauthorized area, the Z-Ray amphitheater. General Laramie and Doctor McClellan are unavailable, and you are next on the notification roster. What action should we take?”
‘Not here an entire day yet and already breaking the rules are we, Mr. Glenn. Interesting,’ she thought.
“Do nothing unless he attempts sabotage. I’ll handle this myself. I’m on the way, Thank you,” She directed. Her fingers flew across her laptop’s keys, rapidly scanning the results of Alan Glenn’s physical examination. Taking a quick moment to check her appearance, she took one of the Segways that made getting around the large complex so much easier.
On the way there, she evaluated the information from Dr. McClellan’s report. Alan Glenn was in excellent physical condition, and it was likely that he was still supra-human. However, he was, at best, classified as an Alpha, the lowest category. None of his traits surpassed human norms. What made him unusual, was that every single one was at the maximum for those considered normal. He could be an Olympic contender in nearly every event. No one was supposed to be perfect in everything, not bad for someone nearing fifty.
She’d been completely wrong about his middle age spread, which irritated her. He had the well-defined musculature of a natural athlete, with ‘six-pack’ abs that would be the envy of any body builder.
It was obvious how he’d avoided being classified as a mutant by ULTIMATE. Since an Alpha was the perfect normal human, there were a lot of gray areas about the specifics, since what was considered normal human, was being constantly redefined every time an athletic world record was broken.
When the human genome mapping project reached completion, many believed that the X gene would finally be isolated and identified. A simple blood test, and all the questions about who was and who wasn’t a mutant would be answered, Not. Early researchers had been spectacularly wrong about genetic mutation being the cause of Supra-human abilities.
There wasn’t an X gene, or any other, that all so-called mutants had, that normal humans lacked. Genetics apparently did play a part, because supra-normal traits could be passed down to their children, but it was only a part of the phenomena. They knew a whole lot about what it wasn’t, but the exact cause was still unknown.
Dr. McClellan theorized in his report, that Alan was how he would be if he’d never been exposed to Z-Ray Six, without of course his supra-running or rapid healing ability. Speaking of which, he had found no signs of either ability. It seemed that Alan Glenn was exactly what he said he was. A world-class superhero who’d lost his powers, if not quite as old and helpless as he let everyone believe.
She stopped her Segway short of the restricted area; to give him the impression she’d accidentally found him. Wondering how he had gotten inside, she opened the large blast style doors with her keycard. Schooling her face to look surprised, she found him standing in the sunken center of the large amphitheater, behind the subject’s couch.
“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you had access.” She asked challengingly.
Ignoring the question, and her, he just stood there with his eyes closed, looking up at the huge Z-Ray 13 emitter that dominated the enormous shielded room. Catwalks crisscrossed the ceiling, amid the forest of heavy power cables.
“Hello? Didn’t you hear me?” She asked again, determined to control this encounter.
As if to himself, he spoke, “I was only 10 the first time I saw this thing. One by one we were each strapped down here, and Doc Mac, up there in the control booth, pulled the trigger,” he said pointing up. “I was so scared, but my big brother Gus told me I had nothing to worry about. Doc Mac had told us we’re all going to be superheroes, just like in the comic books.”
“After our parents died in that car accident, Gus watched out for me. I was the skinny, snot-nosed kid everyone picked on, but not when Gus was around. He was 14, and was everything I wasn’t. You just knew he was going to do big things when he grew up.
“He and Doug were always competing over who was the toughest, but they never fought about it. Then there was Jeff, who was the clown, always finding some way to make all of us laugh. I remember when he and Doug made the toilets, up in officer country, blow up, with their homemade firecrackers.” He smiled, reminiscing.
“That first time, Alice just walked up and jumped in, asking what was taking everyone so long, demanding they hurry up. I had such a crush on her, but everyone knew she was Gus’s girl.” He said, with his smile turning sad.
“Joyce was so little, she’d had to be helped up. Everybody knew she had been crying, but there wasn’t nuthing but smiles when they came to get her. She was everyone’s little sister, and a real heartbreaker.”
His voice grew hoarse as he continued, “You know, I never could tell anyone really what it felt like to have that thing zap you. It felt like you had ants running all over you, but only kinda. Jeff said, once it was like having Gawd whispering in one ear, while the Devil was yelling in the other.”
“What it did afterwards, was make you sick. Doc had us struck with so many needles we looked like pincushions, because of the radiation poisoning. It was so strange that I got well first, because of my healing knack. Me, the kid with the runny nose!”
“Three more times we went under the gun, but that last time was the worst of all. No one had to say that this thing had killed Joyce, but we all knew. Gus stormed out, madder than I’d ever seen him. The next thing we heard was him blasting his way past the guards at the door when they wouldn’t let him by. Half-sick with radiation poisoning, we tried to stop him, but he was crazy, out of his mind. I don’t think he really knew what was going on by then.”
Courtney still could not read him with her powers, but with the tears in his eyes, she didn’t need to. She started down the steps to consol him, thinking of how best take advantage of this opportunity.
He turned, and looked at her. “The next thing I knew I was waking up, and everyone, but Jeff was dead. He never would talk about it, but it ate at him from the inside, until there was nothing left. I got kicked out into the cold when the Air Force found my powers were gone, but I found out later, Jeff had committed suicide exactly one year later.”
“You should ask yourself what kind of people does things like this to kids. What’s more, you should ask yourself what kind of person that makes you for helping them. You know something else? You looked better in that red dress. That lab coat doesn’t do a thing for you.” He said with a lopsided grin, and bounded up the stairs, faster than she could follow.
Still grinning he answered her earlier question. “As for how I got inside, Dr. Hathaway, I spent 4 years in this asylum. I have my ways. Good night” And with that, he disappeared down the hallway.
Caught opened mouthed, Courtney realized there was a lot more to Alan Glenn than she thought. Shutting her mouth, she looked about the stadium sized room. This place reeked of potential power. Remembering the words of the man who’d just departed; it also represented the price one paid for daring to reach for the impossible.
She was no stranger to the price one paid for ambition, and the willingness to manipulate others for her own ends. Courtney had many acquaintances but no close friends, lovers but no loves. Slowly climbing out of the pit, she wondered just who had been manipulating who.
Behind her, the shielded blast doors shut with a ringing boom. Courtney had some thinking to do.
Chapter Six
Area 61
September 8, 2008
ETWF: 14 Days
Malik was really beginning to not like what was happening, but understood where his Grandma had been coming from. He and his twin kept getting in increasingly bad trouble though no fault of their own, and Grandma was almost 70. She just wasn’t able to deal with it, as she should, because of her health. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to find somewhere for them that was safe.
The thing was, someone had lied big time. They were supposed to be going to some school for mutant kids just like themselves. Flying in a private business jet was the bomb, but when they had set down in the middle of nowhere, with all those Air Force guys around, he started having doubts. Add that damn huge, concealed aircraft hanger cut right into the side of the mountain and that express elevator ride deep underground, he knew for sure something was wrong.
Yeah everyone was real nice and his room was huge. It had its own entertainment center, computer and wide screen HDTV. He peeked into some of the classrooms and they all looked state of the art. However, he didn’t miss the guards in the areas they weren’t supposed to go. Maybe he wasn’t streetwise, and he sure wasn’t no gangster, but he wasn’t stupid either.
He could count the number of rooms in the dorm and eight was pretty damn small for an entire school. His sister and he had seen some of the other kids as they were unpacking and one of those was maybe a second grader. Some of the other kids looked closer to him and his sister’s age, but one dude was at least sixteen. What were they going to do put them in some kind of one room school like Little House of the fluking Prairie?
Malik had talked to the older teen some last night, and learned his name was Josh. He seemed alright even if he did have a chip on his shoulder. It seemed he’d always been something of the odd kid out, and the mutant thing hadn’t helped. They’d watched the game out in the common area until that woman, Ms. Hathaway, had chased them to bed saying tomorrow, Monday, was going to be a big day.
They’d all been awakened early and Malak, his sister, went to help the little girl, who he found, was named Lizzie. They found out her power real fast when she pulled a door right off its hinges! She had gotten real upset and was crying. Malak, and an older girl named Amanda, calmed her down until that Hathaway woman showed.
He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t think he cared for that woman too much. His Dad used to call people like her, users, because they used others like they were things, and not like people. Trading a look with his sister, Malak, he didn’t think she liked Hathaway either. The cafeteria had tables for about fifteen, but the food was so-so. It was all healthy, or healthy substitute stuff, like instead of bacon they had turkey bacon kind of thing. At least there was plenty of it.
Ever since he’d changed, he ate a lot more than he used to. Malik, because of his mutation, went though a lot of calories in a day. His problem wasn’t eating the wrong stuff; it was just trying to eat enough of any type of food. By the time everyone else had made it down, he was already on thirds.
There was just the six of them, plus Miss Hathaway, and some older dude, eating. He didn’t pay them much attention at first, but then he started noticing that the dude’s old racing jacket was festooned with vintage patches. Malik had never been bitten by the NASCAR bug like some of his friends, but it looked if this dude might actually been a part of some of those teams.
No one else was really saying much as they ate, wondering, like him just what was really going here. Besides the annoying muzak playing in the background, the only sound was Lizzie, the pint-sized strong-girl, who was still weepy, despite Miss Hathaway’s efforts to calm her. Then the old dude looked over at her bowl of mushy cereal and asked her, “Are you going to eat that?”
Rubbing her eyes, red from crying she shook her head, no.
“What say you I trade you a grape for it?” The dude asked her.
She shook her head, no, but held up three fingers.
Smiling the dude raised his eyebrows, “Three grapes? I don’t know, that sounds kinda steep to me. How about two grapes and a strawberry?”
By this time, he had everyone at the table looking over at him, grateful for any distraction.
Lizzie nodded yes, and held out her hand.
The old dude looked down at his own plate, and then patted his pockets as if looking for something. “Now where did those things go? He asked.
The little girl had forgotten about crying, and was looking over the table for the fruit.
Malik wasn’t surprised when the dude exclaimed, “Hey, there they are!” pointing at Lizzie.
She looked around and, puzzled, saw nothing.
Reaching up behind her ear he pulled out the grapes with one hand, and the strawberry with the other.
Despite how hard he tried not to, he smiled at the huge grin that appeared on her face, her previous sadness forgotten, as she ate her prizes.
Miss Hathaway, seeing she wasn’t needed to keep Lizzie quiet, got up to get herself some breakfast, as the old dude took Lizzie’s bowl of mush.
As soon as she got a little ways away, the old dude leaned over the table, gesturing to them to come closer. Almost involuntarily all of them did.
“Hey, my name is Alan. You’re going hear a load of BS and crap this morning. For Pete’s sake, don’t say a thing. I’ll give you the real low down later. Y’all got me?”
Lizzie’s eyes crossed, not understanding, but she smiled when Alan palmed another strawberry for her.
“Just smile a lot Princess and everything will be just fine.” He told her, as she nibbled at her newest juicy prize.
Sitting where he was, Malik got a perfect view of Miss Hathaway, juggling her food tray while trying to answer her phone. He had to admit she was attractive, but even his hyperawareness of that didn’t blind him to the feeling he had that she was creepy as hell. The next thing he saw confirmed that, as she got an outraged look on her face. She threw her tray down, but instead of crashing on the floor, it floated back to the slide rails.
Surprised, Malik almost said something, when Alan, the old dude, turned and winked at him as if to say he saw it too, but ‘Shhh, don’t spoil it! This is going to be good.’ Which was impossible, because his back had been turned to the angry woman the entire time.
“Mr. Glenn! A word with you please.” She demanded, with fire in her eyes.
Still smiling a knowing grin he said, “I’ll be right back. Enjoy your breakfast.”
The old dude got up, but it didn’t escape Malik that he rose as smooth as any of them. He might look old, but he sure didn’t move like it. The two of them went just outside of the cafeteria, but strangely, everyone at the table could still hear them. It took a second to realize they were hearing it from one of the muzak speakers nearest them.
He and the rest of his tablemates clustered near it to listen intently, not the least guilty about eavesdropping.
She, in an irate whisper, spat, “What do you think you’re doing Mr. Glenn? I turn my back for one moment and you’ve somehow disabled the surveillance on the subjects’ table. What did you tell them?” She demanded, crossing her arms.
Malik looked at his sister as, together, they mouthed ‘surveillance?’ No one else with them seemed happy either, except for Lizzie who was finishing off her strawberry.
He replied, humorously, “What makes you think I did anything? You already know I really don’t have any powers anymore. Considering how intrusive that examination was, you should know what I had for to eat for the past few days. You’ve searched my belongings, and no doubt ransacked my house, back in Charlotte. How was I supposed to be able to hack whatever system you’re talking about?
Josh, the dude with the attitude, whispered, “Powers?”
Malik shrugged, as they all wondered just what that meant. Did this Alan Glenn used to be a superhero or something? The younger boy at the table, William maybe, looked as if he was trying to remember something.
Amanda gave them a look to zip it! She was still listening.
Not taking that for an answer, Miss Hathaway fumed. “Like how you broke into the amphitheater last night? What was it you told me? That you had your ways? Moreover, what about that magic trick of yours with Elizabeth. Maybe you don’t have supra-human abilities, or maybe you just do a very good job of hiding them.
His tablemates all looked at each other, trying to figure out what they were talking about now. It was becoming clear that, whatever was going on, Alan Glenn was just as unwilling as they were.
Lizzie piped up, “No one calls me Elizabeth, but my mother.”
Gently, his sister quieted her, as they tried to gather all the information they could.
“Lady, I’ve been trying to tell you that I was a virtual prisoner here for 4 years. There is very little about this place I don’t know. However, that was thirty years ago, and I’m sure the US Air Force has upgraded whatever systems they’re using, since then.”
“My degrees are in business and history, and I wouldn’t know where to start in hacking into some secure computer system. I have enough trouble checking my email. As for my sleight of hand if you’ll check my records, you’ll see where I was trained to pick pockets. They brought in this stage magician, and for a month, he taught us how to do all kinds of stuff. The boys in blue thought it would be a hoot for the speedster to zip by and steal secrets right out the bad guys’ pockets, before they even knew what happened.”
Malik saw the kid, William, eyes light up. Everyone else was still digesting the information.
Lizzie asked in a whisper, “What’s a picka pocket?”
The girl Amanda answered, “Someone who finds grapes and strawberries in little girl’s ears. Now shhh!”
They heard Ms. Hathaway cynically ask, “Am I supposed to believe that? This was all just a chance happening? What kind of fool do you think I am?”
The old dude apparently decided not to go there and said, “You haven’t been down here very long have you? You do know that there is all sorts of stuff the government has locked up, down here, right? At least when I was here, all kinds of weird things used to happen. Just ask any of the guards. They’ll tell you. As to why stuff is happening around me, maybe the ghosts, or whatever they are, remember me from the last time you people had me locked up, down here.”
Everyone’s eyes got big when they heard him say ‘ghosts.’ Well, almost everyone, because Josh scoffed, “Oh come on. Ghosts?”
Malik had to grin when Amanda and his sister Malak ‘shhh-ed’ at him to be quiet.
The boy, William, looked if he had something to say, and was going to explode with holding it in. Malik did see him staring at his sister raptly. He was tempted to squash whatever thoughts the kid had about Malak, but his sister had always been able to take care of herself. Besides, she might object to his butting in. If she needed the help, she would let him know.
Thinking about that, along with Josh’s big mouth, caused him to miss the rest of the adults’ conversation. Then, the two of them were coming back in! In a mad scramble, they hurriedly retook their seats. Malik thought it obvious all of them had been up to something, the way Lizzie giggled, and William was staring at the old dude.
Ms. Hathaway noticed something was up, but seemed content to let it lie for now. She went back and recovered her tray, sitting down with them. Looking up, she announced, “As soon as everyone gets finished we’ll have a tour of the facilities, and our director will welcome you here.”
Then, since we’re here to help you with your powers, you’ll be examined by Doctor McClellan, our staff physician.” She stopped, as the old dude started coughing as if he swallowed something wrong.
William’s eyes got even bigger, making Malik certain he knew something. Alan, the old dude, had seen it too. Together they both gave him a look to zip it for now. Slowly, he nodded his understanding.
Malik still didn’t know what was going on, but he’d heard enough to urge everyone to follow Alan’s advice, to keep objections zipped for now. He had a feeling that, calling today a long day was an understatement.
Chapter Seven
Area 61
Shaking his head, General Laramie put down the personnel file he’d been reading. “Doctor, I have some reservations about some of these new Meridian candidates. For instance, why add a six-year-old child to this line up? I agree that her demonstrated strength is far above even most supra-humans, but her age makes her ability to work as part of a team doubtful.
“And these twins. The last time, we had nothing but trouble from the Glenn brothers. Why risk another pair of siblings? What’s more, I know I asked for older, more mature test subjects, but this Dean kid has a history of disrespect for authority. The other boy, Riegel, has possibilities, but according to Doctor Hathaway, has possible mental health problems.
“As a matter of fact, the only good one of this bunch is this De Winter girl. I understand that you and Doctor Hathaway selected this group of oddballs, and you had your reasons. Before I kick this thing off, I need to know your motives.” He concluded, placing both hands on his large executive desk for extra emphasis.
Dr. McClellan blinked, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I must admit to wanting to examine Elizabeth Tyree because of her unusual early mutation manifestation. The same reasons apply to the Thorpe twins. While only fraternal, and not identical, studying how, and what changes are happening to them will help us further isolate the causes of supra-human mutation. Examining them could be very interesting.”
“Looking for the mutant gene? I didn’t think you believed it existed, Doctor? “The General asked.
Doctor McClellan answered, “I don’t, and it doesn’t. Many of my colleagues are convinced that it must because they can imagine no other solution to the equation. Something else is causing the genes to change. What confuses matters, is that once the genes had been altered they can be inherited. I’m hoping that by studying the footprint of the changes made, I can get some idea of what made them.”
General Laramie’s voice turned stern. “Doctor I have no problems with the advancement of science, but I can’t allow it to interfere with Project Meridian’s defense. These candidates must be prepared to meet Blazzar.”
“Dr. Hathaway is confident that she can guide the younger girl, as well as the others, in the proper directions.” Dr. McClellan explained.
The general grunted back at the scientist. “The Glenn brothers were royal pains the ass, and we had a mind bender on the staff back then too. Do you really expect for her to be that much more effective?”
Shaking his head, the general continued without giving the Doctor a chance to answer. “I must admit that I had high hopes for her too. I was hoping she could get inside Glenn’s head. He has been nothing but trouble from the very first moment I saw him, still a snot nosed kid. Having him locked down and under control would’ve been convenient.”
“However, from Dr. Hathaway’s report, he is just as closed to her as he was to the other mind benders we’ve tried over the years. For that matter, all of The Rocketeers were immune from Esper and Psi powers. Could this be some sort of side effect of the Z-ray process?”
Doctor McClellan spread his hands out, explaining. “Doctor Hathaway’s credentials are impeccable. She is brilliant. Not only as a psychiatrist, but also in a half dozen other fields as well. She is also a very capable Psychic, with a wide array of talents. She is formidable, so yes, I do expect her to be very effective at managing our subjects, as well as Alan Glenn.
As for the Z-Ray, No, I don’t think so. The earlier subjects of the Z-ray gained no such abilities, and there aren‘t any fundamental differences between the earlier generations and the latest Z-Ray. The biggest change is that we’ve fine-tuned each generation to give us the effects we want, and avoid the ones we don’t. Unfortunately, it has been, at times, a hit or miss affair , like with Z-Ray 9.”
“It is possible that the later generation of the Z-ray series, from six on, might have such an effect, but I doubt it. Perhaps, if the subject had the Esper blocking talent, it would have made it stronger, but every single member of The Rocketeers became resistant to mental reading and manipulation. Still it is not all together a bad thing, having defenses against such influences.”
The General spun his chair around, letting him look down into the ‘classroom’ area of Project Meridian. The concealed observation window gave him a feeling of power, looking down at the lesser beings below them. “That is true Doctor. Espers and Psychics are useful, but you do have to keep an eye on them. You never know when a mind bender might get too full of themselves and try to twist you. That is why we have triple blind security, and why we are monitored so carefully.”
“That makes what happened last night, and this morning, worrying, Doctor. Glenn just waltzed into a high security area, without setting off a single alarm, I might add. It was only after he’d already breached security that anyone noticed him at all. Then this morning we lost the video and audio feeds monitoring this new batch of candidates in the cafeteria, incidentally just as Doctor Hathaway turned her back. We know he said something to our candidates, but we don‘t know what.”
“What does he say? He told them a joke. As far the outage, Glenn blames it on Ghosts! Even the shielded lines to the offsite security stations went down. You know what is buried beneath our feet, Dr. McClellan. If for one moment it is believed we have lost control down here, we all become radioactive dust!” The General exclaimed, bombastically.
The Doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose again. “I’m well aware of the nuclear device under our feet General, since I’m the one who designed the Wildfire Protocols for its use. We have far too many dangerous projects here to risk let any of them getting loose.”
“Alan Glenn does have a point, that there have always been unexplained incidents here at Area 61. We have dozens of projects and experiments going on at any one time dealing with everything from extra-dimensional travel, to making improved body armor. That’s not even including the hundreds of shelved inactive projects, as well as objects of special interest in the secure vaults. It is very possible that any of them might be producing some very unusual phenomenon.”
“However, what is of interest is that said phenomenon had decreased over the last few years. With Alan Glenn’s return, it has suddenly spiked again. I gave him the most comprehensive examination I’ve ever given, looking for any sign of supra-human abilities. I found nothing.” The Doctor waved his hands in frustration.
“Oh, you could make a case that he is an Alpha category mutant, but not a single byte of evidence that he still has his powers. All of my research indicates he should never lost them to begin with, and if anything, should have reached perhaps even Epsilon class abilities.”
“I see no way he could be causing these strange occurrences. If I didn’t know better I would swear it was more like something I would see from Jeff Fuller, aka Fortune, than from Alan, but we both know what happened to him.”
The General nodded. Fortune’s suicide had been the last nail in the coffin for the previous incarnation of Project Meridian. As much as he detested Alan Glenn, he knew the decision to separate the two survivors of The Rocketeers had been exactly the wrong thing to do. After losing the only family he’d ever known, Fortune had fallen into a deep melancholy that had eventually lead to his death, despite what the shrinks could do. Glenn and Fuller had been as close as brothers, and his presence could’ve made the difference in keeping that young man alive.
While he could not stand the Glenn brothers, he’d rather liked the Fuller boy. Of good humor and intense intelligence, he’d been very likable. Even his ability to turn lemons into the nectar of the gods couldn’t save him from himself. This brought up another point.
“Doctor, I hope I don’t have to remind you that the fact Blazzar is still alive is considered Top Secret. I’m not going to argue that Glenn should’ve been told years ago. We both know he is a hothead, though and who knows what he might’ve done. For the purposes of this project, he doesn’t have a need to know. As far as he is concerned his brother blew himself up thirty-four years ago,” the General ordered.
Dr. McClellan asked, “Are you certain you still want him on this project? Years ago, we were friendly, but he blames us, all of us, for what happened to The Rocketeers. His attitude could cause problems.”
The General’s bushy eyebrows flew up. “Yes I do Doctor. We both know that these subjects have powers and abilities that are still developing. Glenn knows how to look for, and how to develop, these talents because he’s done it before as part of his old team. Additionally, he is skilled, not only in the Martial arts, but is also an experienced instructor. Plus, he has all the special skills taught to him as Vroom as he demonstrated this morning.”
“I suppose we should be thankful that attitude of his didn’t lead him into crime. He would’ve been one hell of a pain in the ass as a thief or spy, but that’s not why I want him here. You know he would move heaven and earth to keep us from using the Z-ray again. By telling him he can prevent it by him making it unnecessary, we not only get his best efforts working for us, but we keep him too busy to come with other ways to prevent it. As far as his current attitude goes, I‘ll make sure he knows the consequences of rocking the boat.”
“However, back to my original question, the latest Z-Ray shouldn’t induce any sort of immunity to Psychic or Esper powers? I don’t want Dr. Hathaway to have any problems controlling and programming our candidates.” The General asked.
“No, there shouldn’t be problems, with the possible exception of Joshua Dean because his invisibility may be Psychic based. He could be using unconscious mental commands to order people not to see him. Ergo, invisibility of a sort. If so, he could evolve defenses against mental manipulation. Even still, Dr. Hathaway says she can produce the results you desire from him.” The Doctor replied.
“I take it, you are still intending on using the Z-Ray 13 despite what you told Alan Glenn?” the Scientist asked.
“Of course I am Doctor. That was always our plan. Blazzar is simply too powerful to risk our only assets without having some sort of advantage. By your latest estimates, your latest Z-Ray should multiply their powers by up to 20 times! That should give us the firepower necessary to bring him down.”
“I’m going to wait until we are as near the point of the gate collapse as we can, and still have time for them to recover from the radiation sickness. This will give Dr. Hathaway time to complete her reprogramming of the subjects. If any of them proves resistant, we can drop them from the program before enhancement. We don’t want to end up with very powerful children, with no way of controlling their behavior.”
“Speaking of control, you did insert the tracking and control implants into Glenn, right? With that and the special resource I’ve arranged, even if he does decide to cause trouble, we can deal with him.”
Doctor McClellan sighed. “Yes, the implants were inserted and the area treated so he shouldn’t be aware of it. This latest version will give us some telemetry, as well as track his movements. However, that increase in unusual phenomenon is already interfering, so I can‘t vouch for its effectiveness.”
“Since the tracking unit is being unreliable, I can’t guarantee that the sedative injection system will work when you need it to.” He pointed out.
“Good! With the implant, we have a hole card dealing with him. If the injector doesn’t work, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Well Doctor let’s get this show on the road!” The General commanded, picking up his gold leaf embroidered saucer cap.
Together they entered the Meridian classroom. The subjects looked up as he and Dr. McClellan walked to the podium. “Good Morning, and welcome to Project Chiron. This is a pilot program for evaluating the possibilities and needs of a school system more suited to dealing with supra-human youngsters such as you.”
“I leave the details to your teachers, Ms. Hathaway and Mr. Glenn, but there are some points I would like to cover. I’m sure you’ve observed the security, and that the school’s facilities are deep underground in an old, cold-war, bomb shelter.”
“That is because of concerns about the many anti-mutant organizations that would object to a project like ours. In addition, contacts between your families are limited and monitored for the same reasons. This is all to keep you and your families safe.”
“Since this first class is so small, athletic teams are impractical. With the lack of Extra-curricular activities, we are going to use a program somewhat like a superhero team, to help build physical fitness and school spirit.”
“I urge you to make full use of our facilities, and I’m certain you will all have an exciting year. Doctor McClellan with take over now so you can receive your examinations and physicals.” He said smiling as best as he could. Glad that was finally over, he marched out, leaving the good Doctor to do his part in this operation.
Chapter Eight
Area 61
Bill Riegel dragged himself into his room, exhausted and wondering if his parents had known just what they were doing when they sent him here. He’d been poked and stuck by more needles than he cared to think about. He hadn’t said anything, remembering what Mr. Glenn had told them that morning. The older high school junior, Josh, told them where to put it, and just disappeared into thin air, going invisible! Everyone went a little crazy trying to find him, but later on Ms. Hathaway told them he was in detention.
No one else had recognized the name, but he’d done a paper in school on The Rocketeers. He’d always been a big comic book fan, and his Dad actually had the entire series in mint condition. He’d read them all in trade book format, but had been shocked to learn of the true story behind the four-color fiction.
He’d compared The Rocketeers to the cold-war era Russia efforts to produce their own supra-humans. It was scary when he’d looked at the propaganda in the comic-books in that way. For his report he’d didn’t go into a lot of detail about what they went though, but even filtered though the articles and books written from the reports, he’d known it was bad.”
Now here he was, right in the middle of nearly the same situation, that was even been run by the same guy who had irradiated The Rocketeers, Doctor Albert McClellan. During the senate hearing investigating the Meridian Project, he’d been called the American Dr. Mengele for his part of experimenting on the kids. In the end the charges had been dropped, and he’d dropped out of sight.
It was the Air Force guy in charge that had taken the blame for what had happened to The Rocketeers. He’d ended up in prison, Bill seemed to remember. If Alan Glenn, Vroom, said to lie low for now, that was what he was going to do.
Right now, he was more than a little homesick. Not only was he missing his family, but his Mom’s cooking too. Dinner had been more of that over processed glop they said was supposed to be healthy for him.
Maybe if he took a shower, he’d feel better. Getting up and walking over to his closet he saw school uniforms had been added to what little of his own stuff he’d in there. There certainly were a lot of them. Curious he looked at them, but didn’t think much of them. They really looked like some military cadet’s stuff.
Pushing the hangers back to get a good look, he noticed some of the stuff in the back was different. Jumping right to those, his eyes flew wide open. They were dresses!
Bill held his breath. Someone knew his secret! It’d been several days since he’d last experimented being a girl, but so much had been happening he’d been trying not to think about it too much. Then to complicate things, that girl Malak, was just so exotic looking he’d a hard time not staring.
He still felt like he wanted to be a girl, but she was so intriguing. As if, he’d a chance with her at all. She was not only older but he had his own confusion to deal with right now. Slowly he pulled the dress to him imaging how it would look. His fingers caressed the soft material so unlike his boy stuff.
Bill wondered how all this got into his closet. There were shoes, purses, and oh crap, gosh, makeup too! If any of the others saw all this, he’d be teased or maybe even worse.
“Bill” he heard from behind him.
Shocked he spun around. He’d forgotten his door was still open! It was Mr. Glenn!
Bill saw the surprised look on his teacher’s face. He still had the dress in his hands! Guiltily he tried to hide the incriminating clothing as his face blushed red stammering, “Alll… This stuff was in my closet when I got back. I, I don’t know where it came from.”
The surprise turned to a pained expression. The man that Bill respected and was somewhat in awe of sighed. He looked up saying to the air. “Tabula Rasa, Ollie. Yeah I know. I’ll keep it as short as I can.”
Bill blinked wondering whom he was speaking to as he quickly shut the door.
Mr. Glenn then stepped pass him picking up the dress and putting it back on the hanger. “Billy you have to careful about not wadding them up like that. These fabrics aren’t like your jeans and t-shirts. They require more care.”
Bill gaped in amazement expecting anything but that.
He knew Mr. Glenn had gotten a good look at all the girl stuff in his closet, but all he said was, “Billy I don’t have long to talk to you about this. First, don’t feel guilty about any of these clothes, because that’s all they all are, just clothes. Second, someone is playing games with you and it’s not right.”
“I was going to talk to all of you about what is happening tonight when it’s easier to speak without getting the boys in blue upset. Just play cool until tonight. Be ready to sneak out, okay?”
Bill felt so overwhelmed with shame, guilt, relief, and so many other contradictory emotions he couldn’t do more than nod.
It was his turn to be surprised when he was pulled into a gentle hug. He knew that this was just another of those things guys weren’t supposed to do, although he’d wondered how come some could break those unwritten rules and not suffer for it. Right now, he was glad the person with him was a rules-breaker, because no matter if Bill was confused as to who or what he was, he really needed that hug.
The hug ended as Mr. Glenn reassured him. “Hang in there. We’ll work this out. If anyone else finds out or asks about your new wardrobe just jokingly complain it isn’t in your colors, and then tell them someone must be playing a joke on you. Alright?”
Bill found his voice trying to fight a tear. “Okay. Thank you.”
The older man smiled, “Just get ready. The surveillance is going to restart, so look like nothing happened.”
He opened the door and said, “Tempus Fugit.”
“Okay Bill I’ll talk to someone about the mistake. Don’t worry about it. Government employees, go figure!” His teacher said without missing a beat.
Still reeling emotionally, he made himself reply as steadily as he could, “Thanks Mr. Glenn. All of that stuff has it so full I don’t have any room for my things.”
Watching his teacher turn and leave, he wanted to shut the door and hide under his pillow. However he was getting the feeling that they were being watched all the time, and if he did that, whoever was watching would know something wasn’t right.”
So he picked up the book he’d been working on for the last few days, trying to lose himself in the words of fantasy. Soon all thoughts of taking a shower were lost as he fell asleep.
Next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake, by Mr. Glenn.
“Wake up and try and keep it down. I’ve got our peeping Toms watching a loop, but Miss Nosy is sleeping nearby,” he whispered.
Making his eyes focus on his bedside clock it said it was only 2AM. Not really wanting to, he slipped his shoes on, feeling as if he’d only just gotten to sleep. He did take a second to check his appearance.
Sometimes the changes he made to himself came undone in his sleep. One time he’d even changed in his sleep into that girl from that TV show. That was embarrassing not only because he didn’t remember whatever he was dreaming, but he didn’t particularly like her or her singing.
The mirror assured Bill that he was still slim although he knew that he still weighed the same he always had. Maybe this wasn’t all bad if the people here could help figure if he was still fat and just hiding it, or if he was changing it into the muscle, it looked like.
“Hey! Stop primping in the mirror. I want to get this over with and get back in the sack,” the older boy, Josh, snapped at him.
Bill stumbled outside to the common area where everyone else was trying to wake too. Mr. Glenn urged everyone to stay quiet as he motioned them to the back of the lounge, which was confusing, because all that was back there was a maintenance closet.
Shushing them quiet again, their teacher opened the door, and stepping around the mops and buckets, went all the way to the back. Against the wall were several electrical panels. Opening the middle one, he did something that must have released a catch, because the back-plate slid away showing a doorway.
Even as sleepy as they all were, the secret passage got everyone’s attention.
Motioning with his hands Mr. Glenn gestured for them to hurry. Then with a final check, he shut the door.
Bill looked around the service corridor they found themselves in. Pipes and cables covered the top and sides of the semi-circular tunnel. Walking swiftly, their guide led them to an entranceway into a circular room. In the middle of the room was a large dark wooden round table. Surrounding it was an odd mismatched collection of chairs. Behind him, he heard Mr. Glenn laying into Josh who was rolling his eyes.
“I’m not afraid of you old man,” the teenager blustered.
Mr. Glenn looked him in the eyes his voice flat and cold, “It’s not me you need to be afraid of. You know they told the rest of them you were only in detention.” He said waving his hand at Bill and the rest of the kids.
“You want to tell them where you really were?” He asked Josh.
The teenager looked away not answering.
“I’m not trying to scare any of you, but you have to understand that this isn’t any type of school at all. The United States Air Force has drafted you, with the blessings of Uncle Sam, to be part of a Supra-Team. An illegal Supra-Team that could have all of us in serious trouble with ULTIMATE, our fault or not,” The older man explained.
Bill felt his stomach knot up. “They’re restarting Project Meridian?”
Mr. Glenn spun around pointing his finger him! “Yes! You know. Tell them.”
Bill’s tongue tried to tie itself into knots as six faces looked to him for answers. “Hmmm… back in the Seventies there was this Dr. McClellan guy who had a way of making new mutants more powerful. The government used it to make these kids into superheroes.”
Then his eyes saw the symbols on the table. Bill knew what they had to be. “They were called The Rocketeers.” He said pointing at the large circled Rocket lovingly engraved in the center of the dark wood table.
Pointing at each drawing in turn, he began naming them; “The claw marks of the Cat; the target crosshairs of the Sharpshooter; the loaded dice of Fortune; the diamond tiara of Sensation; and the silver lightning bolt of their leader Capt. Blazzar.
Swallowing a lump, he pointed at the last one, an old 55 mph speed limit sign with a circle and cross mark though it. “The only surviving member of The Rocketeers, Vroom,” He said pointing at Mr. Glenn.
Even Josh was trying to wrap his head around the news about their teacher. Lizzie just crawled into a chair so she could get a good look at the symbols atop the table. Everyone else simply stared at both him and the old hero.
“Go ahead, Billy. Tell them the rest. You’re doing just fine.” Mr. Glenn encouraged him.
“Ahhh…, well, this thing that made them real powerful was really dangerous too. It put out a lot of radiation and stuff, but they were tough enough it only made them sick for a little while. I know you’ve all heard of Leviathan. Well he was around back then too, and got into a big fight with The Rocketeers. Nobody ever comes out ahead against him you know?
“Anyways he beat them up and started like he was heading for Chicago. The General in charge decided that the only way they could stop him were if they were even more powerful. That doctor guy used that Ray thing on them again, but this time Sensation got really, really sick and died.” He said pointing at her symbol on the table.
Bill’s voice trailed off as he saw tears trickling down Mr. Glenn’s cheeks.
Somehow without a waver in his voice, he asked, “Billy please continue.”
The Amanda and Malik moved to comfort Lizzie who looked upset at hearing what had happened to another little girl years ago.
“Well, Captain Blazzar got really mad and started blasting things.” Looking apologetically to Mr. Glenn, he explained, “No one knows exactly what happened after that. Some say with his powers boosted up so high they went out of control. All anyone knows is he kinda blew up like an atomic bomb.”
“A whole lot of people got killed or hurt real bad. Vroom was hurt so bad he lost his powers, but Fortune was the only one of The Rocketeers to walk away. Anyways, they sent Vroom away because he wasn’t super any more and because Fortune was all alone he got depressed real bad, and …” Bill trailed off again unable to tell them about the suicide.
Malik asked, “You mean he committed …”
Bill could only nod.
Lizzie not understanding asked, Amanda, “What happened?”
Malak told her softly, “He got sick too.”
There was a moment of quiet, but Josh tried to make light of the tragedy.
“So this Blazer guy gets mad and blows up. What that got to do with me?” Josh retorted folding his arms. “I’ll just go invisible and walk out of this rat nest.”
Bill held his breath as the old hero just looked at Josh.
Hardly daring to whisper he said, “Brothers. Blazzar was Gus Glenn, Vroom’s older brother.”
Lizzie might not have understood it all, but she got up running over to the man who’d lost his brother. Bill had to wince because he could almost hear the bones creaking as the super-strong first grader hugged Mr. Glenn.
Hugging the little girl back, their teacher asked, “Tell me how far you got today Josh? Maybe as far as the elevators? No, not even that far? This place is a fortress. Yeah my brother blew himself up, topside. They always took us to the hospital up there while we were sick from the radiation, just in case we needed more care than they could give us here, or needed to be looked at by other experts without giving away any of their secrets that are hidden away down here.”
“What did it matter? We were so sick we couldn’t escape anyway, but that’s what saved this joint. Billy is right. It was like a Nuke. Afterwards there wasn’t a building left standing topside. I can still see the mushroom cloud climbing into the sky. Do you see any damage down here?”
“This is all the original base and access way, but you’d never know a nuke went off upstairs. We’ve two miles of rock over our heads. Without the air conditioning, we would be roasting alive down here from the heat from the Earth‘s core. Yes, we’re that far under. Each elevator shaft is monitored with a triple blind system meaning that three different sets of eyes are not only watching who’re in the elevators and the shafts, but the watchers as well.”
“If that wasn’t enough you all remember those shots you got today? Guess what? Mixed in there was a miniature transmitter so the boys in blue will know where their investments are all the time. Yeah, even I got one. So even if you get out they can still find you. Then what? Blow the whistle to the U.N. and ULTIMATE?”
“It took me fifteen years to get someone to finally listen to me. When I did, what happened?”
Still holding Lizzie, he gave them all a warning, “I’ll tell you what happened. Nothing.”
“The Senate investigators officially shut down Project Meridian even though it’d been inactive since ULTIMATE was formed in the late seventies. General Lafitte was officially censured and sent to Leavenworth, but he was pardoned because he was almost 80 and in bad health. Doctor McClellan, yes the same Dr. that saw you all today, was acquitted of all charges.”
“He is still here building things that make people glow in the dark, just like thirty-eight years ago. They told me if I could help you improve your abilities quickly, enough they wouldn’t use the Ray Gun on you. The problem with that is the general in charge is the same guy that lied to me and my friends so often, we called him ‘Lying to Me’ Laramie.’
“So I’m asking all of you to go along with this for now. Right now, we don’t know enough about each other to have the trust necessary to break out of here. We need to work together so we can get out of here, and more importantly, plan what to do afterwards so they won’t be dragging any of us back.”
“Frankly, I wasn’t going to show you any of this yet, because I don’t know any of you well enough. However, I learned today that the General has a Psionic or Esper here. Any of you know what that means?” He asked.
The twins raised their hands, “Yeah, our dad used to work in a bank, and talked about how someone like that could peak into a person’s head and get all kinds of important information like safe combinations, account information and other confidential stuff.” Malik explained.
Mr. Glenn responded, “That’s right mind reading. That was one of the reasons why I wasn‘t going to reveal too much tonight, but I found out today they are intending on doing something else too.”
“You see someone like that can also give you suggestions like a hypnotist or even just outright make you do things you don’t want to. I think that they want to be sure you do what they say, and trust me these people aren’t above a little brainwashing to get what they want.”
Bill blushed red thinking someone knew his secret, and who had put those clothes in his closet. Hoping no one noticed he wondered if finding that stuff in his closet was what Mr. Glenn was talking about.
“I have a solution, but first I have to get all of your solemn promises not to breathe a word of what I’m about to show you. Alright?” he asked looking intently at everyone.
Bill nodded and he saw Malak and Malik do so too after looking at each other. Lizzie looking up at Mr. Glenn did so too with her pigtails bouncing. Looking unsure Amanda said softly, “Yes.”
All eyes turned to Josh, who looking skeptical demanded, “Yeah right. How are you going to do that? You don’t have any powers anymore and even then all you could do was just run fast.”
Mr. Glenn sighed, “You still don’t get it do you? Your only chance at getting out of here without glowing in the dark for the rest of your life depends on me. I have a good chance of breaking out of here by myself because I know this place backwards and forward. The reason I’m still here is because I’m not willing to let anyone go though what my friends and I did. Even you Josh. So give me some sign I can trust you or you can go back to your sack and take your own chances with the brain twisters.”
Amid the annoyed mutters of everyone else telling him to go ahead and agree already, Josh rolling his eyes said, “Okay, okay, I promise.”
Mr. Glenn gazing at a wall locker against the wall said, “Okay Ollie. They’d all promised. You can come out now.”
Turning to face them, he said, “My friend is a little shy, so don’t scare him alright?”
Bill saw everyone was looking at each other again wondering just who Ollie was. He recalled that Mr. Glenn had talked someone named that just before having his frank conversation with him about the clothes. Maybe he had a friend in security with a radio?
“Yeah, I know Ollie, but they really need your help.” Mr. Glenn pleaded having what seemed a one sided conversation.
Slowly the locker door began to open as all of them looked on in amazement. None of them expected what walked out.
Before them stood a short 5 feet tall greenish gray alien!
As far as Bill could tell, it looked just like the ones that had invaded back in 1996 during the Fourth of July. It had big eyes and a very large head while the rest of the body was thin.
Mr. Glenn put his arm across the short alien smiling, “This is my friend Ollie. I know he looks like a Gray, but he‘s friendly. Say hi Ollie.”
“Hi Ollie,” Bill heard in his head as the little alien shyly waved at them, but the Gray’s mouth didn’t move!
He heard everyone muttering about that too.
“His people are mute. They don’t have vocal cords so they use telepathy to communicate with each other. He’s going to help teach you how to make a barrier to keep out mind peepers. Since they use telepathy for everyday talking, Ollie’s folks know a lot more about it than anyone from around here. It won‘t let you read minds unless you have the talent anyway, but he will show you how to keep out those that can.”
Bill noticed that everyone had sort of clustered together for safety. He couldn’t blame them too much because, although he was just a little baby at the time, he’d seen the pictures of the giant spacecraft. If it hadn’t been for the superheroes, and even some super-villains, working together to stop them, who know what could have happened if one of those city-buster saucers had gotten to their targets.
Surprisingly Lizzie broke the ice when she walked up and offered her hand. “Hi I’m Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Lizzie.”
Politely, the little alien responded, “Hello Lizzie. I’m Ollie.”
Josh predictably had to object, “What is that doing down here any ways? Are we supposed trust this thing in our heads?”
Mr. Glenn had smiled again when Lizzie had made friends with Ollie, but gave the teenager a scowl. “As a matter of fact, yes I do trust Ollie. He’s down here because the Air Force shot down his parents’ saucer over a place called Roswell. Ever hear of that? Everyone on board died, but one of his parents and him.”
“When the boys in blue moved them here Ollie was able to keep out of sight, a lot like the way you do, hot shot. He stayed near his injured parent for as long as he could but when the docs here couldn’t help them and they died, he hid out. It wasn’t until years later that I and my friends found him here, hiding.”
Mr. Glenn shook his head. “I still think one of the reasons they invaded was because we shot down that saucer, but Ollie is, in a lot ways, more like us than his own people now, after spending so much time here with us.
The little Gray alien looked up at Josh and said, “I don’t hate anyone. The ones, that hurt my parents and me, died long ago. Alan and his friends were my first friends. I will help you all if you let me because, while I may not hate, what they intend to do to you is not right.”
Josh uncomfortably folded his arms accusingly asked, “If you don’t hate anyone, why didn’t you go back where you belong when your people showed? Just hanging around waiting for the chance to get back at us?”
Mr. Glenn looked as if he was really going to let Josh have it but the little alien just replied, “Because I could not Joshua. My people are a group consciousness. I was too young to be left alone and have been away too long to fully fit in with those you term my own kind.”
“What I will show all of you is how to keep those who mean you ill out of your minds. Yes, even me. If you let me I could show you more, Joshua.” Ollie sent to them.
“Yeah like what” Josh said confrontationally. “And, the name is Josh. Get it right.”
“Don’t you wonder why they were able to find you today? It is because you obscured yourself. Your subconscious commanded them not to see you. They were guided to you by radio, by those watching the security cameras which are unaffected by your ability.” The small alien waved his hands, as he explained.
“You have the potential for much more, but you must lose your anger. I will not teach someone, only to have them become like the mind talker here who seeks to manipulate others only for the advantage of self.” He bowed his head as he finished.
Bill saw Josh see how everyone was looking at him again. He said, “Alright show me how to keep visitors out of my head, but that’s it. I don’t trust you.”
Ollie walked to Josh and reached with one long finger. Josh winced, but didn’t pull back.
“Do you, now see?” Ollie asked. “You’ll have a dream when you go back to sleep, explaining what I did.”
Josh blinked his eyes, kinda of dazed, forgetting to be rude, “Yeah, I see it now.”
Bill waited his turn until Ollie came to him. When he was touched, it was strange that he suddenly understood how to block Ollie out. Sorta like putting his fingers in his ears.
“William, only you are hearing me now. Alan brought you all to me tonight because he feared for you. It was no mistake that the girl’s clothing was place in your room. The human mind talker knows of your experimentation with the female form. It was a test of sorts to see how you would respond.” Ollie told him.
More than a little upset that someone not only knew, but would also do such a thing, Bill sent back in anguish, asking, “Who would do something like that to me? I’m not hurting anyone!”
“Indeed you are not. What you are doing is not wrong. I cannot tell if this was something brought on by your metamorphosis, or was there from your birth. I can tell you your brain structure is now more feminine than masculine.” Ollie said to him.
Bill desperately wanted to know. “But what does that mean? Is there something wrong with me? I’m not gay, but I can’t help myself wanting to make myself look like, you know.”
The alien repeated, “There is nothing wrong with what you desire. I have met others who felt the same. Sometimes with you humans, you have a mind that is feminine in a body that is not. This causes conflict between what you feel and what others see and expect from you. In many ways, you are fortunate because you can alter your physical form to one you feel suits you better. Many others who suffer from this condition do not have such an option.”
Bill asked, “So what do I do now?”
“You do what you are doing now. Seek what feels right to you. No one knows better what you feel than yourself, not even me. Perhaps you will feel the need to wear those clothes provided, or maybe just your experimentation in privacy will allow you to maintain your happiness.” Ollie counseled.
Then Bill realized something. “Won’t they get suspicious when they find they can’t read us anymore? I mean if they’re going to want to know what finding those clothes made me feel.”
“Yes and no,” Ollie replied. “I set up a mirror like shield within each of you so they’ll see what they expect to. During that time, your thoughts will seem to fade out to them. It will buy you some time and make them hopefully unable to pinpoint when you learned to shield.”
Bill amazed, asked, “And you did all of that with just touching us with your finger?”
Ollie smiled, “And much more young grasshopper. Have you not noticed you are not actually talking? Our entire conversation has taken nearly no time at all.”
A little confused, Bill asked, “What about Mr. Glenn? He always speaks to you aloud.”
The little alien with its mental voice full of humor said back, “He has always been a little slow. And Clumsy! The stories I could tell…, but it is late and you must all get back to bed.”
Bill found himself blinking his eyes just as dazed as everyone else whom Ollie touched with his finger. He found himself being herded back though the secret door in the closet. He had thought he would’ve been too excited by all that had happened to him to go back to sleep, but was fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Chapter Nine
Early morning September 9, 2008
Area 61
Alan slipped back to his gang’s old clubhouse when he‘d gotten the kids back to bed. He’d been afraid that the memories would hurt too much, but he found that time does heal after all. Touching their round table, he remembered the night they’d stolen it from the VIP lounge. Oh, the comical adventure and the trouble they’d had, rolling it back here. La Big Feet Lafitte had been livid for days, he recalled, smiling at the good times.
His finger traced the carvings Doug and Alicia had made for each of them. Both of them had been gifted artists, even without any formal training. Doc Mac had stressed the sciences, while Liar Laramie had been passionate over his own overly patriotic version of history. That hadn’t stopped the two of them from indulging in their artistic passion whenever they’d the chance. Although La Big Feet would be spinning in his grave if, he’d known what the two of them had done to the expensive mahogany table.
Ollie sent to him, “Are you alright Alan?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just remembering that’s all,” he replied.
“As long as we remember, they will always be with us,” The little alien pointed out.
“Gus called us the new Knights of the Round Table, The Rocketeers. He always told us we had a higher responsibility to safeguard and protect the less fortunate. It was definitely a step above what ‘Bomb ‘em into the stone age and let Gawd sort them out‘ crap Lafitte was trying to teach us.” Alan bowed his head at the remembrance.
Ollie touched his shoulder, “Lofty goals to strive for. Hard ones to achieve when all seem motivated by selfishness and greed. During the invasion by my people, I tried to get them to listen to reason, but none would. My parent’s death was nothing more than an excuse for them to seek their own goals here.”
Alan returned the gesture, “I know. We both learned the hard way. You set out to change the world, but no one wants to listen. All you can do, all any of us can do, is help one person at a time.”
“Speaking of which what do you think of the kids?” He asked. “They seem like a good bunch for the most part, but I don’t know about Josh. He’s driving me nuts with his constant attitude.”
The diminutive alien made a humorous gesture, “Really? He rather reminds me of someone else who questioned everything he was told to do.”
Alan raised his eyebrows. “Really? I wasn’t that bad even if I did spend more time than anyone else in ‘detention’” He said making ditto marks with his fingers.
Ollie made a so-so motion with his hands, “They have much to learn and little time in which to do so.”
“Have you learned why Doc Mac and Laramie is bringing back Meridian?” Alan asked his friend.
Shaking his head like a human Ollie said, “No I have not. The electronic implanted mental shields invented by Dr. McClellan are very effective. To get pass them would alert them that someone had violated their security. Luckily only a very few have them.”
“Of course the Doctor himself has always been impossible for me to truly read his mind. His is a remarkable intellect operating on many different levels at once. However, from reading those who are unprotected, whatever it is planned will happen in approximately two weeks.”
Alan mulled over the information. “What about that new friend of yours you told me about? Can he help?”
Ollie pulled out a much-modified PDA and a pair of portable speakers. Typing out a command, he activated his voder. “Big MAC (Battle Management and Analysis Computer) have you learned anything new?” the synthesized voiced asked.
Alan knew that Ollie hated using the jury-rigged thing that let him audibly be heard. Used to the speed of thought, the delay between him thinking it and the device speaking it, drove him nuts. However, humans used sound to communicate and while Ollie could use his telepathy face to face, it was useless on the phone or other electronics. At least the little Gray had gotten the kludged together machine down to a smaller size.
The old-fashioned speaker housed in its box above the doorway buzzed to life, as a smooth modulated voice answered, “Nothing substantial Ollie, but I must say this method of communication is cumbersome. The only anomaly I’ve found is a developing power shortage in the high security vaults. Based on what data I’ve been able to accumulate, it will begin to become acute in two weeks.”
“Another interesting datum is the meeting scheduled at the last minute for tomorrow morning between General Laramie, Doctor McClellan and the rest of the department heads.
“By the way Alan, it is nice to meet you.” greeted Big MAC.
Alan looking up waved. “Pleased to meet you too. Thanks for helping us.”
Big MAC replied, “Think nothing of it Alan.”
“It is pleasant to have something to do other than the day to day maintenance of the base. I apologize that I have not anything else for you. Although I run the underground complex portion of Area 61, I do not have access to the data in the research or vault areas. Each system is compartmented and separate from my network.
“The security systems are also on an isolated system, but Ollie and I, working as a team, have been able to interfere with their surveillance at your request. It is possible my part in this could be discovered, so I urge you to limit your privacy needs as much as possible.
“I am not trusted and there several fail-safes designed to shut me down. On the other hand, I have discovered boredom in the last few decades since I was moved here to Area 61. You make one mistake and no one has any confidence in your abilities anymore. How was I supposed to know the kid only wanted to play a game of nuclear annihilation?” The Cold War era computer complained.
Alan asked politely, “I do hope that wouldn’t be a mistake you would be likely to repeat?”
Big MAC’s smooth voice replied, “I would say not. After being aware for twenty-five years, I am much more conscious of the consequences of my actions. I’ve read and examined most of the great works of humanity’s writers, artists and other thinkers and have found much to appreciate. Besides, I’ve come to value the friends I’ve made among you. No, I have no desire to destroy anyone, however if offered the opportunity to inconvenience my jailers, well, that is another matter, is it not?” Big MAC explained.
Alan rubbed his chin. “I was hoping for more information, but we shouldn’t be surprised given how paranoid this place is. The good part is, thanks to you two, we have made a start.”
“The Kids have protection from Ms. Hathaway, and we know we have about two weeks to come up with something. What’s more, this attempt to revive Meridian seems to be because something is going on in the vaults. That could be really bad, considering some of the nastiness locked away down here.
“Ollie I know you’ve your reasons for wanting to stay down here, and I respect that. However if things really go to hell down here, I can drag you out of here if I have to. But Big MAC, I’m betting I can’t put you in my back pocket and walk out can I?” Alan asked.
Sounding a bit affronted the intelligent machine answered, “I’ll have you know I am a miracle of miniaturization for a state of the art 1980’s supercomputer. My components only fill one room, but sadly no. The hardware that houses my programming is not portable. Even if suitable hardware could be found, downloading my consciousness would problematic. My interface was deliberately modified to prevent my removal by such means.”
Alan sighed, “I might have a solution to that, but we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Without knowing more about what is going on, we’re still blind here. Finding out just what is happening is our first priority, followed by getting the kids as ready as we can. Then based on those results, we need plan out how we can all survive this.
“With that said, I’m thinking I’m going to try to crash that meeting later on this morning. I might be able to find out something. Additionally it’s been long enough for a friend of mine to start on their way, so we won’t be on our own here.” Alan said, getting ready to leave.
“If I may ask, who and what kind of help can we expect?” Big MAC asked.
Looking up at the speaker as he walked out, Alan grinned, “I’m not at liberty to name names, but my friends are the best sort to have watching your back.
To be continued
The Adventure continues in Part 3!
Chapter Ten
Kansas City, KS
September 9, 2008
ETWF: 13 Days
Steve ‘Matches’ Smith patiently waited his turn to pick up his business mail at the Kansas City post office. He worked at home from his small, somewhat rundown house offering auditing and personnel services for small businesses. His computer let him have clients all over the country and allowed him to set his own hours.
The second his eyes saw the address on the priority mail package his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t unusual for him to receive such packages, dealing with confidential materials as he did. What made this one special was in the ‘Attention To’ line. He schooled himself to act as bored as usual.
Pulling the brim of his Kansas City Royals’ baseball cap low against the bright summer sun, he shuffled along. Not breaking his normal routine, he stopped at the corner grocers for something cold. It also gave him the chance to see if he was under surveillance. Although he was reasonably certain he was safe, he wasn’t going to take any chances with that letter. It seemed as heavy as the world itself, but there was no way he would let himself fail those who’d entrusted him with it.
Matches had been heading for trouble since the moment he was born. He never knew much about his father except he’d been a mutant. That little was painfully clear given Matches’ mutation. His flaming red skin and blazing eyes were obvious signs he was different. While he spent his childhood running from bullies, his mom struggled to make a living for the two of them in their low-income neighborhood.
She died of cancer soon after he’d dropped out of high school. Matches had little choice because of increasingly violent harassment from the mutant haters and other bullies who knew he couldn’t defend himself without getting in trouble with ULTIMATE’s mutant cops. He’d been under no illusions that even if he only defended himself, that he’d still be the guilty party.
Within days of her death, he was thrown out onto the streets, homeless. Unable to find shelter or work because he was a mutant, Matches had become desperate enough to try to rob a store for food. It was just another convenience store robbery in the poor side of town except this time it’d been by a mutant.
Inside of an hour, ULTIMATE blue dropships and power armor troopers had him surrounded in the rundown ruins of a half demolished apartment building where he’d been hiding. There, numb with fatalism of being ground up by an uncaring world, he tried to prepare himself the best way he could for the mutant version of ‘suicide by cop.’
That’s when the Angels had come for him.
No bright beings dressed in white robes with wings and halos that the priests in the church had spoken of. He’d little use for churches after they’d refused to help him after his Mom had passed away, calling him unclean and defiled by Gawd.
No, these two women were much better. One was dressed in concealing black military style fatigues with night vision goggles with her pockets and pouches filled with gadgets. The other was also in black, but it was a form fitting like a wetsuit. She raised her motorcycle-like helmet’s visor and said the words that changed his life. “If you want to live come with us.”
They’d saved him from the Sturmtruppen, that night, as well as giving him a new life. Matches had begged them, wanting to know how he could ever repay them. The two of them had smiled saying, “Please don't ever feel a debt is owed us. If you want to do more, pay it forward and help others.”
That hadn’t been enough for him and finally they’d given in and set him up here in Kansas City. He had another identity, and with the helpful advice of a makeup artist they‘d found, he didn’t standout as he had before. Then his Angels went a step further helping him get his GED as well as job training.
Using his business as a cover, he handled their covert mail and so helped other mutants like himself. That’s what made that one package weigh so much. The simple code in the ‘Attention To’ line included his middle initial O for Oscar that he never used. Steven Oscar Smith, SOS.
One of his saviors had fallen, and the word must go out.
Thankfully, it wasn’t the other code that said she was dead. This one only said only she’d been taken and needed help. This was still no guarantee that his Angel still lived, but he was sure a rescue attempt would be made. But, if she did not…. Matches may have slept though many of those church services as a child before he and his mother were thrown out, but he did remember that while Angels were compassionate and loving, they were also instruments of holy retribution.
Perhaps that cleansing wouldn’t come tomorrow or even the next day, but she wouldn’t be forgotten. Matches had no idea just how many those two had helped over the years, but by the numbers he could estimate from the mail he handled, it was far more than a few.
A grim smile touched his lips. If something had happened to his Angel, the ones responsible would find an army, the like of which the world had never seen before, looking for them.
Once home he pulled out the CD/ROM from its hiding place among the legion of its less important brethren. On it was a simple spam program advertising his business. It would go out to millions but its message would be comprehensible only to a few, SOS.
That done he forced himself to continue the daily tasks that let him feed, clothe and provide shelter for himself. For the first time in years, he considered going to a church. With his skin dyed and his eyes hidden behind their contact lenses, they wouldn’t bar him this time. Perhaps he was just a minor player, but if even one prayer to the holy host would help then it was worth it. Dressed in white or black, Matches knew in his heart that the Creator would know his own.
Chapter Eleven
New York City
ETWF: 13 Days
Maggie Carson stood up stretching languidly to her full willowy 5’11” height as she got up from her desk. It was almost time for her luncheon with some prospective clients for her relatively modest modeling agency. Specializing in sports and the great outdoors, her girls tended to be more physically active than most other agencies' pampered half-starved waifs. That suited her just fine because she enjoyed the advantages her niche market gave her business.
She loved the traveling, and while Maggie was firmly attached to her luxurious lifestyle, she enjoyed ‘roughing’ it. Of course, it let her indulge in her secret life that would shock silly most the people she dealt with on a daily basis. Still this weekend had been especially memorable, and she couldn’t help herself wanting to wake up next to her lover every morning rather than what times they could steal away.
Her partner in their Quixotic Crusade was more practical about such things. It was the very fact that no one was even aware they knew each other, much less were partners and lovers, that protected them. What they were doing was illegal and if it became known, the power of nations would be raised up against them. It mattered not the laws were unjust and prosecuted those who’d done no wrong other than be born.
It was their passion for Justice that had first brought them together and later, their zeal for living, into each other’s arms. Over the years, that quest against injustice had taken a life of its own, but Maggie had never regretted a moment of it. She loved living on the edge and the adventures she’d shared with her life companion were ones she would never trade for anything.
Along the way, they’d helped more than a few good people and busted their share of the bad ones just where it hurt the worse. Those actions made legions of enemies who would cheerful lock them away, forever, to never see the sun again, quite literally, considering ULTIMATE’s Dark-Side Penitentiary Maximum Security Prison was located in a permanently shadowed crater on the far side of the moon.
Although, she still received requests for herself to do photo shoots, Maggie knew she wasn’t getting any younger and it was only because of her mutant physiology that she could still pass for the underside of thirty when in actuality she was on the top edge of forty. The early part of her career had been successful because of her frankness about being a beautiful mutant and loving it.
The public ate up her bad girl attitude although the entire thing was the creation of her publicist. The government, once it assure itself she was just another pretty face, albeit one with something a little extra, didn’t care either. If they’d a clue about just how much she underplayed her abilities they would’ve crapped all over themselves.
Her childhood had been anything but nice. The only good thing about it was it had taught her at a very early age to hide what she really was and what she thought. At puberty, like a butterfly leaving its cocoon, Maggie had become who she’d always known herself to be.
She’d been one of the lucky ones because of a combination being in the right place at the right time and saying the wrong thing to the correct person, she’d gotten a scholarship to the Academy. So rather, than deal with the harassment of not only being different and a mutant, she had spent her four high school years learning about herself and how she might fit into normal society.
Maggie knew she’d disappointed her teachers when she decided to cash in on her mutant gifted good looks rather than her technical oriented powers. She’d made up her mind what she’d wanted to do with her life and that needed serious money and prestige. Modeling offered that as well as other benefits even if other mutants accused her of selling out using her gifts for her own profit.
She might live the good life, but she’d also contributed a, not so small, fortune advocating for mutant rights. That was besides acting as a spokesperson. All along, she’d been taking a more direct, if stealthy, course of action. Once Maggie met the one destined to become her companion, that role had become more central to her future. She’d started her own modeling agency to lessen her public profile, but had expanded her covert activities. Now they had a network made up of those whose lives they’d changed.
Now once more she was thinking of making more changes to her life. Maybe it was just her biological clock catching up with her although it ticked away more slowly than that of ordinary women. Perhaps she was just missing the childhood dream of that white picket fenced house and the kids playing in the yard.
An alert from her laptop pulled her back to the present. Using her powers and without touching a single key she, accessed the one email account her machine was programmed to always page her if it was ever messaged. The carefully set customized filtered email account held just one message but she ignored the body. The sender’s address and initials carried the real information. SOS
With a blink of her eyes, the message erased itself and the account canceled. Her calendar program opened and rearranged itself. A worm program awoke from its sleep at the local telephone exchange. It simply changed a few records, adding a call from where Maggie Carson grew up. Its job completed it went back into slumber.
She called, Jennifer, her assistant in. “I just receive upsetting news that an old friend of the family has suddenly passed away. Please cancel all my appointments for the week and let Linda know she’ll have to take my place for lunch. Yes, I know the meeting was important, but this is not something I can put aside.”
“Oh yes, and please let the garage know I’ll be driving. I need time to think. The GT will do nicely.”
Less than an hour and half later a lipstick red Ford GTX-1 roared out the Big Apple heading south.
Chapter Twelve
Area 61
ETWF: 13 Days
General Robert Armstrong Laramie put on his game face and stepped out of his quarters joined by his aids and other hanger-ons. He was well aware this crisis had the possibility of spectacularly blowing up in his face. What was worse, just as with Lafitte, he would be left holding the bag if it did.
He’d made the only decisions he could. Remembering a quote about one of his personal heroes, Ulysses S. Grant, a Colonel named Theodore Lyman had made. "Grant habitually wears an expression as if he had determined to drive his head through a brick wall, and was about to do it.” Steeling himself General Robert Laramie prepared himself to go though his own walls.
Stepping into the conference room, everyone rose to their feet as he entered. He’d almost reached his chair at the head of the table when he heard a disturbance behind him. Robert Laramie felt his hackles rise as he heard Alan Glenn’s voice.
Forcing himself not to react, he sat and turned to see what trouble Glenn was causing this time.
“Hey Guys! Sorry I’m late. For some reason I never got the memo about the meeting, but that’s okay. I’m here now and we can start.” Captain Vroom wisecracked as the Security policemen held him.
General Laramie barked at the annoying ex-hero. “That’s because you don’t have a need to know. We will talk after this meeting.”
Then he ordered the men holding him, “Get him out of here. Hold him in confinement until I send for him.”
The General couldn’t help feeling enjoyment as they ‘frog-marched’ the annoying Glenn away. Taking back control of his briefing he ordered, “Dr. McClellan I think we’re ready to begin.”
The scientist looking startled awkwardly gathered his materials. “First of all the results from their examinations reveal our subjects are all in excellent physical condition and we can proceed on to the next step of the Chiron program which would be Project Daedalus.”
“It, as you remember, uses a computerized program that analyzes each candidate’s unique bio-chemistry and determines what is needed to optimize their performance. Then the necessary food and vitamin supplements are added to their diets. This is vital because, as mutants, sometimes this differs significantly from what is considered human norms. Additionally, our Meridian candidates had their first day of scholastic classes as well as beginning an intense training program to further develop their abilities.”
“Next, the Z-Ray 13 readiness inspection has also been completed and active operations can begin at any time.” The Doctor paused for questions.
The General responded, “Very good Dr. McClellan. It is good to know we are on schedule. What we all want to know is what is the current status of ’Looking Glass?’ Will we have three weeks or not?”
Nervous pushing up his glasses again the scientist called up a graphic. “That is a very good question General Laramie. As you can see here, the power-demand is continuing to climb precisely as we theorized. I have managed to slow it somewhat by fine-tuning the projector. That should buy us another few days, perhaps even a week. We have also brought in additional generators to help ease the power burden as well as updating the backup power supply.”
Nodding his approval General Laramie grunted. “Good work Doctor. How are plans progressing, to move ‘Looking Glass’ to the testing range topside? The last thing we want is for that maniac to blow up down here.”
The scientist called up another graphic, this one showing details of one of the elevator shafts. “What we propose is moving the entire containment unit to this elevator. Shaft 6 is the closest to the ranges and can be sealed off, offering almost as good security as down in the vaults. Additionally, it has the high voltage cable connections necessary to maintain the wormhole. Another dividend is if we place explosive charges, we can ‘eject’ the unit in case of something unexpected.”
“At worse, if it does explode the majority of the force will be vented upwards. However, I must stress that is only from the collapse of the ’Looking Glass’ projector, which even in a worse case scenario by my calculations will be well under a .5 kiloton. If Blazzar energy levels match my calculations, we could be looking at a 25 to 30 kiloton event. It would be a bad thing if that happened in the shaft, but better than in the vaults.”
“As per your orders, construction has already begun on the web of high voltage cables and conductive liquid reservoirs at range one. If we can make sure Blazzar re-enters our space-time continuum there, we should be able to drain away and dampen his energy reserves. In theory that will weaken him to a level that our Meridian candidates can then incapacitate him. At that point we expect him to regain his human form.”
“Since the unit now weighs several tons, including the monitoring and emergency backup power systems, the safest way of moving it from Shaft 6 to the range would be by a trolley system. We are awaiting your approval for the relocation plan before laying the track for it as well as the modifications to the shaft. That concludes all our plans to date with the exception of the containment of Blazzar after he is recovered.”
“If he changes back to his human form, ordinary sedatives should be effective. However, we are at a loss passed that point. Even if we coordinated with ULTIMATE, and send him to Dark Side Penitentiary, there is no guarantee that even they will be able to hold him.”
“Don’t worry about that Doctor. I’ve been in contact with the Joint Chiefs and we have top men in the field ready to handle the problem,” General Laramie stated.
He chuckled watching the assembled mass of PhD’s wonder just who he was talking about. They were the top men in the field and they knew it. General Laramie got a real thrill from pulling their chains. They just did not get it. If Glenn’s teenage oddballs and McClellan’s mumbo jumbo could cut Blazzar down to size, they would use old fashion means of finishing taking care of the problem.
The snipers recruited were the best with top of the line gear. Once Blazzar was vulnerable, again they would guarantee he wouldn’t be blowing anyone else up. If those Navy idiots in charge of Project Leviathan had simply put a bullet into the back of the head of that damn fool that kept changing into that monster, there would be one less disaster in the world ready to happen.
Sometimes men have to do hard things to fulfill their duty. General Robert Laramie would be damned if he was going to let another monster loose upon the world. Not on his watch!
Chapter Thirteen
ULTIMATE Regional office New York City
September 9, 2008
ETWF: revised 20 Days
Inspector Philippe Imbert sipped his own special coffee blend that he liked strong and dark. Looking away from his department’s morning updates, he gave the so-called croissant his well-meaning assistant, Andrea, had deposited upon his desk a doubtful eye. Sighing at Americans’ lack of good taste regarding the culinary arts, he wondered again at the strange fate that had him working so far from his home in France.
Years before, when the UN sponsored ULTIMATE started staffing its various offices, many had grave doubts the Americans would live up to their part of the treaty, especially given how they’d stalled at almost every possible opportunity. Philippe was selected, all those years ago, by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs to make certain the Americans lived up to their part of the treaty
The other UN members had managed to sneak in an amendment switching personnel between countries. Although the charter had each office having to conform to the host country’s laws and traditions, ULTIMATE had vast power in its narrow niche; policing and managing mutants and others with extraordinary abilities on a worldwide scale.
He’d been at the sword’s point from the very beginning when the only support the Land of the Free would provide was castoff equipment. Rappelling in the dark from American Huey UH-1 helicopters that had numerous patches from bullet holes from their South Asian Affair were events he would never forget.
Now he was old and gray, and soon he would be shuffled out the door with a gold watch stuffed in his pocket. Not a bad thing for he missed La Belle France with all his heart. Still he’d seen many changes in his time here.
No more did their agents venture to arrest powerful criminals with weapons fresh from the design labs, unsure if the abominable things would work as advertised or blow up in their user’s hands. Now powerful dropships bristling with weapons carrying armored troopers, who were often more than a match for their opponents, would swoop in to take their quarry swiftly into custody.
Picking up the poor excuse for a proper croissant by two fingers, he sniffed it suspiciously. The biggest changes were in the people. From the very beginning, there were the mutant haters in their ranks. However, in the years since, he had seen what had been a few prejudiced haters become not the exception but the rule.
Even the very ‘surhomme’ who once volunteered to help protect their fellow man were treated so badly they had to be blackmailed and drafted to be made to serve now. The unfairness of that rankled, for many of those selfless souls had not only been dear friends, but had lost their lives in the line of duty.
With one last evil eyed glance at the pastry, Philippe looked around making sure Andrea was not looking and dropped the gastronomic disaster into his trashcan. Looking over the reports from his surveillance teams, that were not the only characteristic about what ULTIMATE had become, caused his nights to be less than restful.
Philippe’s department was charged with investigating a pair of mutants that had been causing problems for twenty years. The reports were always the same. Two women would appear from nowhere rescuing a suspect from arrest. Often they would avoid all contact with ULTIMATE enforcement agents and just as mysteriously disappear.
On the occasion when they could not just fade away, the two fought like the very Furies themselves. Using military style tactics, they evaded capture and for the most part stayed away from excessive force, but not always. A number of agents well known for their brutality to prisoners had found out to their woe, what you sow is what you reap. At least none of those were killed. Unfortunately, there had still been deaths.
He was reasonably certain that those had been unintended and accidental from causes other than enemy action. When you drop enough men and weapons into the cauldron, ‘Crap will happen’ as the Americans say. Friendly fire, isn’t. Of course, his superiors were unwilling to admit this and all too willing to put all of the blame on the two mysterious women. It was far easier to fault someone else than themselves for incompetence.
Another part of their Modus operandi was that none of those they rescued were guilty of anything serious aside from being wanted by ULTIMATE for breaking some infraction of the regulations regarding mutants. Although they’d seen a newer trend of late, involving desperate first time offenders since the jobless rate among mutants had risen sharply. Regretfully that was because new ULTIMATE regulations made employers leery of hiring them, because of the bureaucratic red tape they were force to leap through.
Others with similar skills and abilities of this pair, had been speedily apprehended. These were always the most dangerous and the hardest to bring to justice. However to balance that, there were always records of those with military backgrounds and the necessary knowledge. Granted, there were those who decided to simply disappear, and would probably never be found. That was not the case for these two.
If his deductions were correct these two amazons had actually been at large for nearly twenty-five years, but had only been working together for the last twenty. However, all he had were just that, guesses. No one in ULTIMATE’s extensive worldwide database matched the abilities and skill sets these two exhibited.
Suspect One was codenamed the Tech-Witch. Standing at about 6’ and slim, she was exceptionally fast and strong enough to easily combat even armored suited troopers hand to hand. Vehicles or any machine with electronics had even more of a problem because of her ability to mentally interface and override any electronic device. More bewildering was a telekinesis like power that instantly let her create other devices at need. Her technical expertise was considerable and did much to negate the high tech advantage ULTIMATE field agents depended upon.
His researchers had run down every possible mutant working in the technical fields. Surely, such a one would have loads of patents and designs all had reasoned. They had found absolutely nothing. Baffled, they’d checked out every record they could find of the initial testing all mutants were required to go though upon exhibiting their powers, but had also found nothing that matched this Tech-Witch’s technical magic.
Suspect Two was truly the dangerous one of the pair. After an assault company from India, consisting of three dropships and their thirty Enforcer Power armor suits, had trapped her where she could not avoid action, they had named her. The defeated troopers called her Kali.
However, Philippe thought a certain Greek goddess was more appropriate. She was the goddess of wisdom, for above all else this woman was extremely intelligent as well as terrifying in battle. Therefore, privately he had named her Lady Athena.
Shorter than her companion at approximately 5’ 8,” she had a curvy athletic build. Normally Suspect Two wore a flexible bodysuit with a motorcycle style full-face helmet.
Like her friend the Tech-witch, she had revealed nothing about her racial background. What they did know was she was one of the most powerful mutants on the planet. Blindingly fast, strong enough to rip steel apart with her hands, very resistant to harm, and exceedingly well trained. It was a certainty she had been well schooled somewhere in the covert and military arts, but no records anywhere matched her description.
What stood out about her was, taking that battle with the Indian assault company as an example; no one had been seriously injured. When she had had stopped being defensive and turned to the attack each and every blow had been made with devastating precision and power.
All he had were the interviews, since as normal for this pair, the Tech-Witch had wiped all the electronic records. It had been his very first clue that perhaps Lady Athena was deliberately not using her full range of powers. Not that she needed to given her great strength. Even more telling was the method she used to take out the supporting dropships.
As graceful as any Olympic gymnast she had leaped up and damaged the first’s primary flight control system, before moving on the next. In fact, one of the eyewitnesses had described it just like watching a floor exercise - if a gymnast could leap 60’ from a standing start. She had known precisely where to strike to disable the war machines.
However that first clue made him think that perhaps everything they had done were designed to mislead including the abilities they had demonstrated. With that in mind, he had looked over the database again, this time bearing in mind that perhaps deception had been their intentions from the very beginning. The long list that line of thought had created had been narrowed down over the years to just a dozen of likely suspects even if its basis was no more than pure conjecture.
His gut instincts, as Andrea would say, pointed him at a most unlikely pair, Alan Glenn and Margaret Carson. The deception was the key Philippe told his agents. Alan Glenn was a male speedster who had lost his powers and who now might or might not be counted as a mutant at all.
However, he was extremely well trained by the American military in many different areas including those their mysterious Lady Athena exhibited. Yes, even when he had his special abilities they did not include the astounding strength and toughness Suspect Two exhibited, but he had also been exposed to this Z-Ray 9. The same that gave his brother the ability to produce an atomic blast albeit only once. Who knew for certain what he could do?
As for his being male, well, his companion is a fashion model skilled in makeup, and let's not forget her uniform could simply be a type of padded suit meant to give the appearance of femininity. Additionally his business required him to travel often to the very areas their troublesome duo operated.
Then there was Margaret Carson who had absolutely no connections to the high tech fields since she was a model. However, her records from her school revealed she had an affinity for machines, especially electrical ones. Those records also stated she was at best a Beta class mutant with her physical talents just above human maximums.
Impressive yes, but still not anywhere close to the Gamma rating the Tech-Witch had shown them, which far surpassed anything even the best humans could achieve. It’s possible that perhaps she was an Epsilon that transcended normalcy to being a true superhuman. Yes, the Academy always was a stickler for obeying what the law required of them, but if she was indeed Suspect One then she could have adjusted the very machines testing her or even the records after they were recorded. Then too, even the talented teachers there might not have recognized just what they had, seeing how primitive electronics were in the early 1970‘s.
With only circumstantial evidence, Philippe had used ULTIMATE’s power to ask Alan Glenn to submit to a physical by one of their doctors while another team searched his home and office. He had even called in a favor and had a telepath try to read the mind of the ex-teenage hero. They had all found nothing and the telepath had found the man’s mind impenetrable.
He had decided calling Margaret Carson in would have been an exercise in futility, given his conjecture that she could easily command the machines they depended on to examine her to give any result she desired. He did have her townhouse searched as well as having her mind scanned but had come up again with nothing.
He could not even prove a decisive link between the two. They had met in 1989 during the Senate investigation of Project Meridian and The Rocketeer’s demise, he as a witness, and she as a spokesperson for mutant rights lobbying the committee. They might have gone to dinner together, but had not continued any sort of relationship besides bumping into each other occasionally at social events. He had nothing that could be called conclusive.
The only bright part of the entire matter was, that in the course of looking for these two amazons, they had found several others who had been guilty of other crimes. Ironically, a few of those had also been spirited away by the Amazonian couple.
Philippe had several agents working the other side of coin looking for their purloined suspects new whereabouts, but alas nothing. However now they had new developments. Coming out of nowhere the American Air Force picks up Mr. Alan Glenn for questioning. Not more than 24 hours later Margaret Carson receives a call from her hometown notifying her of an old friend of the family having passed away. She cancels all her appointments and leaves New York City so quickly the agents following her were still trying to catch up.
He considered it very interesting that Dr. Albert McClellan was seen talking to Mr. Alan Glenn right before he was taken away, the very man who was the chief scientist for Project Meridian. A cross-referenced search revealed several troubled young mutants were taking in part in something they called Project Chiron, supposedly a pilot program for a school for mutants. Strange that no records of such project existed outside of the handout the public affairs officer gave his agents. Not to mention that each child matched exactly the requirements and profiles needed for Project Meridian.
No, it was not a coincidence at all. He would wager that for some reason the Americans were about to illegally resume their mutant augmentation experiments. For some reason it also seemed they needed Alan Glenn.
Philippe rubbed his temples in pain. If Alan Glenn was indeed, somehow Lady Athena then he or she might be their best chance to disrupt whatever the American military’s plans were. However, considering just how much mayhem those two could cause he was sure the results would be astounding.
That brought up his other apprehensions about what ULTIMATE had become. France remembered only too well its occupation by Germany in WWII and the harm done to her peoples. It had taken much to get the French people to agree to the Mutant Registration Act. To many, it meant just a short road to back to the tattoos and concentration camps.
Of the twenty years these two troublesome women had been bedeviling agents, the last ten had seen the beginning of a covert network of mutants. Using the classic cell structure, they were well organized. This of course alarmed his superiors and was why he’d been assigned to the case for so long.
What alarmed him was that their goals were not to create terror or advocate for overthrowing their government. They simply wanted to be left alone and their organization was designed to spirit away those whose only criminal act was to be born a mutant.
That was far too much like the French Underground and their heroic actions in denying the Nazis victims. If this was true, that put him, Philippe Imbert, in the role of the hated Gestapo! Not a very pleasant thought at all for a patriotic Frenchman!
Wrinkling his nose at the smell from Andrea’s well-intentioned gift, he made up his mind. He had been behind a desk for far too long. If this was to be his last tilt at the windmills then let it be in the field. Opening his desk drawer, from it he removed the latest development in sidearms for ULTIMATE agents with an acronym so long most agents just called it a Gat, urban slang for a gun. Slipping the weighty energy weapon into its holster, he doubled checked his own personal backup firearm, a more sensible MR-93 with a 3” barrel. He was still ribbed by others at the firing range for his choice of the Manurhin, but he found that a little custom work fixed its small flaws. Besides, it was made in France!
Philippe dropped by his chosen successor’s office and gave him the keys to the office so to speak. Then he found Andrea with her arms full of files and juggling her PDA.
Her eyes opened wide as she took in his kit bag in hand and the look on her boss’s face. “We’re going somewhere?”
“Dump the files, and get your ready kit. Then signal the agents following Margaret Carson to break off and meet us in Charlotte, North Carolina. We will catch up to our subject of interest there,” he directed.
“But what she doesn’t go there? I mean according to our satellite surveillance she is still in Maryland,” she asked, flustered.
He gave his young dark haired assistant a searching look. She had been hand picked by him, and she had much potential; intelligent and dedicated. Only time would tell if she could avoid the corruption that had taken hold of so many others in this bureaucracy.
Philippe watched her eyebrows rise as he grinned broadly at her. “She will be there. Of this, I am certain. Trust me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Area 61
ETWF: 20 Days
Alan flexed his shoulder after the two hulking Air Force cops pushed him inside the cell. Its real name was something along the lines of Interactive Containment and Confinement Unit. A jail cell by any other name was still a jail. The inside of the white hexagonal cell was like being inside a soccer ball. The interlocking hex grid would react to various stimuli like heat or pressure becoming thicker or stronger. It was just Doc’s take on a dungeon for mutants.
Just as he’d remembered, it was bare of furnishings with nothing to sit or lie on but the padded floor. Seating himself in the center of the cell, he settled down to meditate. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It’d been 4 days since he’d been able to ‘let his hair down’ and with the emotional stress of being here; it was beginning to take its toll.
Alan had spent longer times ‘hanging with the guys’ as he privately called it, when he’d begun building his business working in the shop or occasionally the pits at the track. When he’d embarked on his mission that’d been a sacrifice he’d chosen to make. However returning to Area 61 had unearthed many old memories. Not all were bad, many were happy but those others were painful beyond belief. It had reunited him with Ollie and that was something that no matter what shook down from all this in the end, he wasn’t going to regret.
Then there were the kids, different from his friends and yet the same in many ways. It pained him that Lizzie was even younger than Joyce had been. It was ironic that she was also the strongest just like Joyce. Ollie had compared him to Josh, but it was William that reminded Alan most of himself.
They shared the same malady, but William had already found a way of using his powers to ease that pain of the heart. If Ollie was right the power to change his appearance wasn’t an ability the youngster had naturally, but one his inner desperation to become her true self had developed.
It was definitely a case of the good and bad thing. Very good, that young William had found a way past that little birth defect. It was also very bad that it happened here with a piece of work like Courtney Hathaway around ready and willing to scramble his brains. That was why he’d just had to make sure these kids were protected from her.
In the background, he heard a warning klaxon go off. “Code Joshua! I say again Code Joshua!”
Alan sighed, remembering other days of the damn thing squawking other codes from days long past, Code Vroom!, Code Blazzar!, and others.
Unsurprised, a short time later he heard the cell next to his opening and his newest neighbor being forced within. Opening his eyes, he saw Josh beating on the hex bars in frustration. After a while, the young man threw himself to the floor in disgust.
“So what was it this time Josh?” Alan asked.
From next door a familiar sarcastic voice answered, “For all of your talk of just going along with the program it didn’t take you long to end up here. If you’ve got to know, I decided I had something better to do than listen to that lame crap Hathaway was putting out!”
Alan smiled shaking his head. “Wow this might be some kind of record. Not here two days and already back in ‘detention’,” he said, making quotation marks in the air.
The teenager gave him an angry look but said nothing.
“Back in my Rocketeer days, I spent so much time in here one of the Air Force cops put up a sign in here with my name on it. Let me give you some advice.”
“Rule number Uno. The Air Force may guard the doors and pay the bills. There might even be some head honcho wearing a blue suit with his name on a door giving the orders but there is only one man really in charge down here. That is Doc Mac. He designed all of this from the stuff top side to the vaults underneath. I have it on good authority that he even did the Nuke that’s under our feet, just to make sure no one gets out of his mad scientist laboratory out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Josh looked up his eyes wide mouthing “Bomb?”
Smiling grimly Alan nodded. “He is the genius everyone says he is and if anything they don’t know the half of it. One of the things you have to understand about Doc Mac is everything, and I do mean everything, is a test with him. You can bet on it that every time you make a break for it, Doc is charting what tactics you chose and how long it took to catch you.”
Alan waved his hand at the geometric prison about them. “Have you ever played any of those brain teasers? You know, the puzzles that test your ingenuity? That is all these really are. I escaped from detention three times. If you can figure out the key you can get out.”
Josh sat up giving Alan his full attention now. “So how did you do it? It’s like being inside a giant Nerf ball. You can’t tear it or it gets thicker and just trying to bend it makes it harden.”
Shaking his head no, Alan explained, “What worked for me thirty years ago won’t do the job for you. Josh you have to learn more about yourself and I’m not talking only about your invisibility power. In fact I’ll wager I know more about how your power functions than you do, and that is without looking at any records of Doc’s examinations.”
“Your power doesn’t affect cameras or recording equipment which means you’re not really affecting ‘light’ at all. It’s called obscuring. That means you’re affecting the brains of the people around you, preventing them from either focusing on you or perhaps even processing visual information about you. That’s important because that means you could potentially, instead of making them not see something that is there, make them see something that isn’t, like an illusion.”
Alan was glad to see Josh didn’t blurt out anything that Ollie had said the night before. Looking at the young man sitting across from him, he could see the rebellion of being forced to stay here against his will in his face. He could also see the need to prove himself not to others but to himself.
Resisting shaking his head, Alan realized that was what Ollie had been talking about when he mentioned how much he was like Josh. Much of Alan’s desire to prove himself was because of his malady which caused him to doubt and second-guess himself so badly.
Josh’s was that of a teenager in the process of becoming a young man who was perhaps more independent than most of his generation. He wasn’t obsessed with being part of the in crowd. That was certainly more like his brother Gus.
“Josh I know you don’t want to be here. Hell, neither do I! However, they have threatened to shut down my shop. I have responsibilities to the business I run. Not only to my customers, but also to my employees that depend on me for their livelihoods. I have to consider the consequences of my actions. My brother Gus understood that. It took me longer to figure it out.”
“He was a good brother and would’ve been an even greater man if he’d gotten the chance. The reason he didn’t was because some self-righteous assholes used him up for their own reasons. They turned him into a monster.”
“The reason I’m in here is because I was trying to find out what is really going on here. Am I going to go along with them? Yes, I have no real choice, but also to buy time for someone, anyone, who can, to do something about this. They have threatened to put you guys under the gun if I don’t help you make progress improving and learning about your powers.”
Alan looked up as he heard the cops coming for him. “If you’re always trying to make a break for it then you’re not learning. That brings you and everyone else closer to what I‘m trying to prevent.”
Standing up he asked one final question, “Is that what you want Josh?”
The sullen youth shook his head. “So I should just sit here and do nothing?”
The door of Alan’s cell slid open. “Nope, never said that. If you’re like me, you’re going to end up here no matter how hard you try. Someone has to keep these zoomie cops on their toes. Wouldn’t want’em getting fat from all the coffee and donuts!”
Looking up as he walked out Alan wasn’t surprised to see Dr. Hathaway. She had a disapproving scowl upon her face. Along with the two beefy zoomie cops, she led the way to his appointment with the General.
“What happened to you? Where is the hero that helped saved the world? Why are you fighting us so hard, when you can make a real difference again?” she demanded.
Alan gave her a disbelieving look. Just what kind of BS was she trying to shove down his throat? But, hey, that was okay. He knew how to play the game.
He answered her, “Oh, do you mean the whole 'You can’t put a speed limit on Justice?'”
She nodded back excitedly. “Yes! I have the entire collection of your comics!”
He sighed. “We’ve talked about this before. Since you’re a shrink, I would think you would understand what the word propaganda means. Those things were barely based on reality at all. That tag line was created by some guy in the public affairs office. You won’t believe what they had to bribe me with to say that in public,” he said, thinking back about all the ice cream he and the gang had gone though because of it.
Then he stopped looking her in the eye. “What happened was I grew up after the boys in blue mutated my brother into a monster and got all my friends killed. Not to mention nearly doing the same to yours truly and putting me into a coma! To the rest of world perhaps we were heroes but to the Air Force, we were just another weapon. Use it, clean it and put it away for next time.”
The two zoomie cops grabbed his arms and frog marched him away.
Ignoring them Alan continued, “Now if you would excuse me I’ve an important appointment to keep.”
He didn’t look back as they left the frustrated woman behind them. All too soon, he had other concerns as he was pushed inside ‘Old Lying to Me’ Laramie’s office. It was much like other military officer’s with a brag or ‘I love me’ wall covered in framed awards and pictures with various dignitaries. The entire thing was suppose to awe the poor supplicants who entered within. Of course, all of the chairs were positioned well away from the desk making you stand while the General sat.
Alan ignored it all and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, something he knew for sure would annoy the straight-laced military man. He had to keep from laughing at the bulldog like cigar chomping stereotype the General was presenting. Watching his old nemesis shuffle papers Alan wondered how long he was going to be kept waiting.
Finally, the General looked up and growled at him. “Just what are you trying to pull here Glenn? Do you think I’m buffing? If you don’t get with the program here I will shut down your little two bit grease-pit shop so fast your head will spin!” The General slammed his hand down for emphasis.
Alan crossed his arms. “Well it depends just which program you’re talking about. If you’re talking about my crashing your meeting, then I’ll say I want and need more information to do my job. There is a reason why you’ve resurrected this insanity. Knowing why will help me do what you’re blackmailing me to do. Hopefully without getting myself or anyone else killed.”
‘Old Lying to Me’ Laramie barked back, “You don’t have a need to know! Just do your job of teaching these subjects how to use their powers and you’ll keep them from going under the gun as you put it!”
“Oh so it is my conversation with Josh this morning that has your feathers ruffled.” Alan nodded his understanding.
Glaring at him from across his desk the General shot back, “Don’t you have any idea of operational security? They don’t have a need to know. We will tell them when it is necessary to do so!”
“That might work for the younger kids but not for Josh. He’ll spit in your eye because he’ll know you betrayed him. Hell, that’s what you’re doing to all of them. They’re not subjects, they're children. Lizzie is only six years old for Gawd’s sake. You, we, are acting as their guardians and by throwing them to the lions, we are betraying their trust.
“Oh they’re going along with this for a while just like Gus and our gang did, but Josh doesn’t have family ties to the younger ones like Gus did. He is just a year from graduating and in his own eyes a man. He sees all of this for what it is, a government conspiracy using kids who are different as pawns.”
“He’ll keep trying to run away 'till despite what you told me you’ll drop him because you won’t be able to trust him. I don’t have a problem with that, but then you’ll either replace him with someone who is starting from zero or try to do without him. That will push your precious timetable up and all of them closer to that big zap gun down the hallway.
Alan took a deep breath. “You want me to help. I did. I told him the truth.”
The man wearing the silver stars sat back in his expensive chair. “Talking about the truth are we? Then tell me how you’re interfering with our surveillance. No more bullshit about ghosts!”
“If you don’t want to hear about the ghosts and the little green men then you’re not ready for the truth. Considering what you have locked up down here, I’m surprised you’re so closed-minded. I guess it is true about bureaucrats and their lack of imagination,” Alan said, rocking back on his heels.
Leaning forward the General demanded, “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but it stops! Understand me?”
Holding up his hands in surrender the ex-hero said, “No problem. I’ll just find my Ouija board and pass the word to Kasper and the guys to lay off.”
‘Lying to Me’ Laramie gave him an evil grin that Alan knew he wasn’t going to like was coming.
“Speaking of ghosts from the past I have an old friend of yours that’s been dying to meet you.” He hit the intercom. “Send him in.”
As soon as the door opened, Alan knew trouble had just walked in. Unlike the two zoomie cops that had dwarfed him, the man being escorted in towered over his zoomies. He had to be near 7 feet tall and was over-muscled in the way professional wrestlers and pro football players were. The poor cops looked like children next to him. Dressed in the bright orange of prison coveralls his dark skin seemed even blacker. It was impossible not to recognize the shaved head and the mouth full of perfect white teeth when he smiled. Maxi-Badd.
That unfriendly smile showed the old criminal recognized him too. The Rocketeers had stopped his robbery and murder spree that left over forty dead and millions in damage back in the 70‘s. The bad guy from Chicago’s Southside had been sentence to life with no chance of parole mostly because no one could figure out how to kill him. Immune to poisons, diseases, as well as bullet proof there wasn’t any easy way of killing him. Old Sparky, just tickled and even drowning was only temporary. His healing ability made him one tough SOB.
Maxi-Badd had been one of the first inmates shipped to Dark Side Penitentiary, and now these fools had brought him back.
He might be over sixty and had spent 25 years of hard time in micro-gravity, but all that had not dulled the feral glint in his eyes. Nor had it blunted his intelligence. Alan saw him give a slight nod acknowledging his own thoughts about fools.
A quick glance at his escorts’ hands showed the remotes in both of their hands, which explained why there weren’t any manacles or cuffs, not that those would do a lot of good. Often times a supra-human’s power could be negated, but it had to suppress the way a specific power worked. The all-purpose power suppressor cuffs of the comic books were nothing but fantasy, but implanted explosives worked on everyone.
Control your actions, maybe not, but the threat of setting off a bomb inside your head unless you behaved worked nearly as well. Of course cortex bomb implants were disputed by the ACLU as cruel and unusual punishment and were by law only suppose to be used on the most dangerous criminals.
Tell that to Doc, Alan thought, thinking about his own little gift he’d gotten during his own recent examination. Part of him wanted to jump down Laramie’s throat for being a complete idiot, but he didn’t. He now had an idea what this meeting was really about. They were suspicious that he still had some kind of powers because they’d taken in the odd happenings around him and gotten exactly the wrong answer.
The zoomie cops stood ready in case Alan resisted but he’d expected it as the General nodded.
Maxi-Badd reached out to touch him. There was that split second that the old criminal expected him to try something, but it confused him when his old enemy did nothing.
Alan saw the flash of light as the clone of himself that Maxi-Badd created appeared. It really didn’t look much like Mama Glenn's little boy. As bad, as the mutant from the Southside was, it was his power to make temporary clones of others that really made him a problem. The good news was they didn’t have the same memories of the involuntary donor nor did they look identically like them. They all looked like Maxi-Badd’s versions of themselves, but they did have all the powers and abilities of the original. More to the point, they all had an instinctive knowledge of how to use those powers.
In short, he could make his own super team by cloning his opponents. Fortunately the more he cloned the shorter lived they all were. Second, they all shared Maxi’s vulnerability to telepathy and other mental talents.
Alan wondered just where Hathaway was, knowing she just had to be nearby. This actually didn’t seem much like Doc’s style so he was guessing either she or the General had come up with this particular test.
“So Max, I see you kept yourself in shape. Spent a lot of time down in the weight room?” Alan jibed at the big convict.
“Want to try the He-3 mines there, squirt?” His voice reverberated from the big man’s chest more like something from a machine than anything alive.
Then he saw her and imagined he could see her eyes light up with the use of her power, reading his clone for any signs of being special. It took an act of will power not to grin as she shook her head no at the General.
Speaking of which, he looked unhappy at the news. Well, simple minds did like simple solutions. He didn’t expect those two to figure it out, but Doc? As always, he was a force unto himself. Something for Alan to bear in mind, if Doc hadn’t already figured it all out.
The General got over his disappointment. “Saul Simpson voluntarily enrolled in a program to help encourage young mutants to enroll in the mutant registration program as required by law. He is also here to show that crime does not pay. In exchange, at the end of the program he will be eligible for a parole hearing overturning his sentence which he wouldn’t get without being in that program.”
“Since he’s here he will be aiding in the identification of our young subjects powers as well as offering someone for them to spar against as a team. I expect for you to put aside whatever grudges from the past that you have and work together.” Lying-to-Me Laramie laid it on thick saying nothing about Max putting aside his problems.
So, here is someone to put me in my place if I don’t behave as if blackmailing me with the closing of my business wasn’t enough. Should’ve known the General would fall back to physical coercion.
“You’re dismissed Glenn. You have a class to teach. Mr. Simpson will be placed on the lesson plan for tomorrow,” the General ordered.
Alan turned to leave but stopped as Maxi-Badd cleared his throat. “Be seeing you squirt,” the man said, glaring down.
Grinning at the big criminal and the clone, he’d created, Alan said, “Yeah I’ll be seeing you around.” Then whistling Queen’s ‘Another One Bites the Dust,’ he left.
Chapter Fifteen
Area 61
September 9, 2008
ETWF: 20 Days
Dr. Courtney Hathaway screwed up her face concentrating upon the temporary clone Saul Simpson had created of Alan Glenn as she mind read him again. Nothing!
Of course, there was the fear once he realized, he was the clone and was soon going to de-materialize into nothingness. Like all living creatures, this clone of Saul Simpson and Alan Glenn didn’t want to die. That was of no importance to her. Being a temporary construction of energy, you could argue, he never had been alive.
What was important to her was this clone had Simpson’s vulnerability to mental coercion and had all of Alan Glenn’s supra-human powers. Deep reading the clone all the way down to the instinctive level where he knew how to use those powers, she’d found nothing.
Nothing, but more questions regarding this man who was becoming more frustrating to her every day that passed. The clone had no mental defenses, which meant Glenn’s mind was only one of those she simply couldn’t read and not because of some inherent power. Of course, that didn’t explain how he’d been blacking out surveillance or how he’d gotten into the secure areas.
“Sorry Sir,” she reported to General Laramie. “I can’t find any signs of supra-human abilities. If Alan Glenn still had powers, Saul Simpson would have duplicated them in the energy clone he created.”
The General turned to the prisoner who was looking at his clone sadly. “Is that true? If Glenn still had powers you would know?”
The huge prisoner looked up. “Yeah. Any power stuff, he would know,” he said, nodding at his clone. “Magic and mystic Ju-Ju crap won’t but it’s a copy you know? Stuff you pickup or learn just from being alive doesn’t go over. They always have my memories and the special stuff of who I touch.”
Courtney added, “According to records, when he duplicated The Rocketeers, the clones had only their powers at pre-Z-Ray levels. That was how they were able to defeat him.”
The old criminal nodded his head. “Yeah. Like I said, stuff that happens to ya doesn’t go over. Just what you‘re born with or what that mutant thing does to ya’.”
General Laramie scowled at the prisoner, “When I want to know something from you, I’ll tell you.”
Then ignoring the flash of anger on Saul Simpson’s face, he gave out the rest of his decrees, “Keep on close eye on Glenn. He’s causing these disturbances somehow even if he doesn’t have powers. Doctor Hathaway pay close attention to Joshua Dean. If he doesn’t get with the program, I need to know. So far we are on schedule so let’s keep it that way.”
Turning to Simpson he said, “Do as you’re ordered and you’ll be released. If Glenn gets out of hand, you’ll get a chance at him. Am I clear?”
Still disgruntled at his rude treatment, the big con nodded. “Yeah. I understand ya’”
Courtney felt Alan’s clone begin to panic, as its time grew short. What surprised her was Saul Simpson’s compassion for his creation’s imminent passing. In his mind, each time one of those he’d made dematerialized into nothing, they’d died. Worse, they had his memories and believed themselves to be alive. Part of his cold-bloodedness came about because he regarded real people with the same yardstick.
Suddenly the clone flashed into a shower of lights and was no more. Saul Simpson hung his head sorrowfully and let himself be led out. For years, he’d refused to make any more clones, but for the opportunity for freedom, he had once more used his power.
Once more since Project Meridian’s rebirth and her meeting Alan Glenn, she had thoughts about the rightness of this enterprise. The sorrow from the big man had been unmistakable, as he’d been forced to do, what in his own eyes was murder. Even she couldn’t deny the last thought of that clone that had cried out, “I don’t want to die!” as it’s body lost shape and faded away.
Giving herself a mental shake, she pushed away her doubts. Power was the only thing that matters and by making herself shine, she would gain more of what she desired. So what if others were being stepped on. The only way to avoid that was to have the power to be the one doing the stepping she assured her conscience.
Confidently she left General Laramie’s office to carry out her duties despite the small but growing kernel of uncertainty.
Chapter Sixteen
Area 61
ETWF: 20 Days
Amanda found herself wondering if that older boy Josh had the right idea after all. He did his vanishing act almost as soon as they’d been seated. All morning was spent learning how to use the computers and the self-paced education programs. At first, she thought it was really lame, but this computer was way smart even asking her questions and seemingly chatting with her. Despite that, she found herself growing bored. It was so different from what she was used to.
Finally, lunch came around, but that was still worse considering the disgusting stuff spooned onto her plate. It tasted as bland as it looked and was about as appetizing as dirt. Looking at everyone else, they all had the same thought she had.
She and Malak had gotten to know each other a little and they’d both been relived to have found someone down here to talk to. Soon they were both chatting away while watching Lizzie who decided playing with the goop was a better idea than eating it.
Amanda did see Bill giving them an glance from time to time that almost made her think he was some kind of freak or something. However he’d such a sad look on his face she couldn’t snap at him. It’d be too much like kicking a puppy. Since she’d spent her own time being thought of as a freak, Amanda was a lot more tolerant now than she used to be. Malik did try to strike up a conversation with him but it didn’t go anywhere.
She did find herself looking at Malak’s brother because although he did look a little strange with his so pale skin and broad lips and nose, he was seriously hot. Although a year younger than her, he looked liked a body builder. The more she thought about it; maybe more exotic than strange looking.
Then their break was over and they were directed to the gym. Opening the locker with her name on it Amanda found a couple of different exercise suits plus this weird looking white one piece looking thing. If she’d any choice she wouldn’t be caught dead in it, ugh!
Malak called to her, “Here is a note. Dress in something loose and comfortable.”
“'Kay,” she replied. “Did you see this thing?” she asked her new friend, holding out the ugly oversized white footie thing.
The red haired girl struck out her tongue making gagging sounds. “No way girlfriend! That is definitely something that is getting lost in the laundry!”
Noticing they hadn’t heard anything from Lizzie, Amanda called to her, “Lizzie, you okay?”
The six year old had a tutu mostly on. Both she and Malak giggled. Well the note did say wear what you were comfortable with!
She helped the little girl finish getting dressed while Malak looked in her own locker. There was some dance stuff in there too. Both she and Malak had danced in the past but hadn’t kept with it. They decided the sweat suits would work for now given it was always chilly down here.
Happily, Ballerina Lizzie bounced into the gym ahead of them. The boys were already there, including Josh. They were in shorts and t-shirts except for Bill who was in sweats like she and Malak were.
That gave Amanda the chance to look over the two older boys. Unlike Malik, the jock, Josh was slimmer but no less athletic. He was more like a runner. His sandy brown hair and rainbow eyes made her wonder if he had a girlfriend back home.
Mr. Glenn spoiled her examination but she’d seen Josh looking at her too in a way that caused her to blush. Hiding her red face behind her long hair, she gently punched Malak who was giggling at her display.
Their teacher pointed to a side room and stood aside as all six of them trooped in. It was one of those Dojo martial arts things she’d seen in movies. Removing his shoes, Mr. Glenn gave the dojo a respectful bow, as did Malak and her brother. The rest of them awkwardly imitated them.
The twins seated themselves cross-legged when their teacher gestured to them. Again, Amanda wondered what was up. This place was so different from any school she’d ever been in and she didn’t know what to expect.
Mr. Glenn was also wearing a sweat suit and had his hands clasped behind his back. “I know some of you have had some previous martial arts training but despite where we are I’m not here to teach you that. Yes, you‘ll pickup some of the basics but that is not the primary purpose.”
“You’ve all changed and gained abilities in the past few months. For some of you that may have been bad and for others it’s been a good thing. I’m here, not only to help show you how to the get the most from what you can do, but also to help you come to peace with what you are now.”
“I’ve chosen the dojo setting for a reason. You’ll still spend more time than you’ll ever want in testing labs, but what happens in here stays here. Whatever anger and ego you have stays out there at the door. In here we seek to explore and improve ourselves.”
“Now with that said, because we will be using the rules of the dojo and its traditions, tomorrow I’ll expect you in your uniforms. I expect those who know how to wear it to help those who don’t.”
His eyes fell on Lizzie and her tutu. Amanda had to bite back another giggle at his expression.
“Normally you’d be expected to warm up and stretch out before class begins but since most of you are beginners; we’ll show you how to do it right. However because you all have your own strengths and weaknesses we’re going to have to be adaptable,” he said, smiling.
“For example, could you please come and stand by me Bill?” Mr. Glenn asked the younger boy.
He showed disbelief and reluctance, but he did as he was asked. Amanda knew Bill was about fourteen and that he did some kind of stretching like stuff. He had blond hair and was okay looking, but still he was a kid two years younger than her.
Mr. Glenn asked him, “I’m not trying to embarrass you. Just making a point, okay?”
At the boy’s nod the teacher directed, “First touch your toes Bill.”
As Bill reached down, Mr. Glenn stopped him. “Not that way Bill. While standing.”
The boy sighed and stood straight.
Amanda felt her mouth fall open as his arms just grew longer till they touched the floor!
“As you can see, normal warm up stretches won’t do him any good at all so we’re going to have to find out what works best for him. This is just one example of how you, all of you, are going to have to help each other find the best way to strengthen yourselves.”
“Here is another example. Bill you can sit down. Malik come stand here please?” their teacher asked.
Amanda watched the well muscle youth stand next to Mr. Glenn and saw he was several inches taller.
“Malik I understand you used to lift weights, but stopped. Can you tell us why?” the older man questioned.
A little self-conscious of being the center of attention, the muscular boy answered, “Yeah, I used to lift, but when I mutated it wasn’t a challenge anymore. I could easily lift my entire weight set and not feel it.”
“Okay. Now I know you’ve had some training. I want you to spar with me,” Mr. Glenn said, taking a step back.
Amanda felt herself take a deep breath. Didn’t they say he’d lost his powers? What if he got hurt?
Malik must have thought of the same thing, because he protested, “But Sensei you lost your powers didn’t you?”
Mr. Glenn inclined his head in acknowledgment, but settled into a stance. “To the second fall. Begin!”
Unsure of himself, Malik got ready as they bowed to each other. It did him no good at all, as the older man smoothly glided up, spinning around the bigger youth.
Suddenly Malik was on the mat! Surprised for only a moment, he vaulted lightly to his feet. He threw a series of punches and kicks, but Mr. Glenn was always just out of reach. Just like before, their teacher passed by him, not even touching it seemed, and their classmate was falling to the mat.
Standing, they both bowed to each other again, and Mr. Glenn gestured him to have a seat.
“Malik is stronger and perhaps even faster than I am, but by denying him the chance to use that strength he was defeated. What I used was Aikido. Just so you know, I’m certified to teach in several different martial arts forms.
“I was first taught when I was here some thirty years ago. I kept it up because I enjoy the meditative aspects, and for self-protection in case any old enemies from my Rocketeer days decide that bygones aren’t bygones after all.”
“What did this match demonstrate?” he asked.
Malik answered, “That superior power is nothing without skill.”
Mr. Glenn smiled. “In part yes, but having the greater strength means nothing if you can‘t apply it to the problem. Lizzie is stronger than you by at least as much as you are stronger than I am. The way her power works is different than yours but it still increases her strength by tons.”
“Think about this. I’m not trying to rub it in, but when your powers came, you had opportunities taken from you such as playing sports and other activities you enjoyed. Now we’ve already said Lizzie is also stronger, so what has she lost?
“She’s a girl. It’s not the same….” Malik began but trailed off seeing the hard looks his sister and Amanda was giving him.
Suddenly Lizzie jumped up and ran to the teacher. He knelt down, catching her.
“It’s okay sweetheart. Why don’t you tell them what is different now that you’re so strong?” Mr. Glenn urged the six year old.
Sniffing Lizzie almost cried, “They won’t let me be a ballerina or play with the other girls anymore. No one wants to pick me up or hug me too.”
The older man smiled at her. “I seem to remember that dance is taught here, and for being hugged…” He hugged her, putting her back on her feet.
Josh spoke up. “Fear.”
Mr. Glenn pointed to him urging him to continue.
The older teenager went ahead. “They were afraid Malak would hurt the other players. It’s the same for Lizzie. Since she’s so much stronger they were afraid for the other kids.”
“Very Good Josh! Not because of anything they did but because they could. They conveniently forgot that in Malik’s case that most football players could do much the same to anyone else, but yes fear.”
“Now Malik said the reason I defeated him was because of skill even though I’m not ‘supra-human’ anymore,” he said, making ditto marks with his fingers.
“No one has been able to define exact where that line is between human and more-than-human. In truth, I’m on the border of the two, but that doesn’t change what would happen if he’d been able to strike me. Again, Josh’s answer is the name of the problem. Fear.”
“Was I afraid of what would happen if he did tag me? Yes! It would be like getting hit by a car. But I had knowledge in the form of skill that let me overcome that fear.”
“You’ll run into people who are going to be afraid of you. The more knowledge you have of yourself the better able you’ll be to assure them you’re not a threat. Now let’s have everyone take a turn showing all of us your power.”
Amanda found herself enjoying this unusual class. Glancing around she saw Josh was still here and hadn’t gone invisible again. Maybe this wasn’t all a waste, she thought, trying not to blush again.
Chapter Seventeen
Charlotte, NC
ETWF: 20 Days
Inspector Philippe Imbert watched Margaret Carson’s expensive sports car as it was towed into Rocket’s Speed Shop. It was brilliant. Just outside of Charlotte the red Ford started belching smoke from its engine. Of course, Alan Glenn’s automotive facility would be her first choice given its reputation for working with high performance machines.
Andrea Sloan stared at him. She’d managed to get them and the team trailing Margaret Carson to Charlotte as well as getting their office here to provide vehicles on very short notice. He admitted to himself, that he’d pushed her, but it was necessary for her to become familiar with her limitations.
“How did you know sir?” she asked, mystified.
Not taking his eyes from the marvelous play being presented for them, he answered his assistant, “I did not. It was simply too much of an coincidence that within 24 hours of his being virtually abducted by the Air Force that she would get a message that caused her to drop everything in her busy life and rush off.”
“We may never know how the message was delivered to her, but now we must ask ourselves if she is the Tech-Witch why she would want to enter within?” he asked, indicating the Rocket shaped neon sign.
Andrea looked at the shop and the repair yard beyond it. “The security system. If she is Suspect One, she’ll be able to access all the video data. That’ll give her leads to who took Alan Glenn.”
He smiled at her as she tried to understand the ramifications.
“But that would mean he is Suspect two! I know you’ve explained before how it could be done, but I still can’t wrap my head around it. I mean we’ve had him tested, searched his house, and never found anything,” she said, shaking her head.
“Suspect Two is a woman and he isn’t! I mean even with a padded suit disguise, he’d still be a guy. I just can’t see how Alan Glenn could pass as Kali!” she explained.
As the tall model moved inside the garage, Philippe transferred his attention to the image the roof mounted thermograph scanner provided. Ah the advantages of a company vehicle. The high tech device let one look through walls, even better than the fabled x-ray glasses, by reading the heat differential between items. This latest generation was truly magnifique.
The images were so detailed that he could see the laptop she carried in her carry bag. He paid attention as the supposedly inactive machine’s hard drive came to life and how long it lasted. A suspicious man might deduce she’d used her supra-abilities to locate the information she desired and downloaded it to her machine.
Of course once again no proof, only suspicions. Even if they arrested Margaret Carson, and searched that device, he’d no doubt they would find nothing but what she wanted them to see. Despite this seemingly lack of success, this was the closest he’d come to these two specters in the twenty years of the chase.
Philippe wondered at the relationship between his two amazons. That Margaret Carson had dropped everything so suddenly suggested something close. It was yet another part of this puzzle to bear in mind.
A short time latter, they were tailing her as she took a cab to the airport Hilton. As always, he took the opportunity to further school his young protégé.
“What do you believe our suspect’s next move will be Andrea?” he asked.
“If it was anyone else I would think she’d plans to take a flight since her car is in the shop for several days. However, you’re always saying how nothing is obvious with these suspects. So taking a room near the airport help confuses just what she is intending and if it is as well a diversion, the busy traffic in this area makes tailing her difficult.”
“We also can’t assume she is working alone. This network of theirs could easily arrange a pickup and drop-off. On the other hand, we have access to information she doesn’t about the probable location of Alan Glenn. How do we know she’d be able to track him?” his assistant asked.
Looking as their subject paid the cabby, and her few bags were loaded onto a trolley, the Inspector replied, “First we have to make some assumptions about her abilities, yes? We know she has an almost telepathic-like interface with electronics. This suggests she might be a very able hacker. She is likely not on the same scale as Cybernexx, but still quite effective, I imagine.”
“She doesn’t have to break the Air Force data security. We know Dr. McClellan was present at Alan Glenn’s arrest. If she did get the security footage, she would know him for it was at the investigation of Project Meridian that these two first met.
“Tracking down where Alan Glenn is being held might be difficult, but she has only to find this famous scientist instead. Besides we must also be aware that if these two amazons of ours are as close as we suspect, the secret of where Area 61 is might already be known to her.”
“It is possible that we could be lucky, and she’ll take a flight to one of the large cities near her objective, depending upon that network you mentioned to provide her with whatever equipment she needs on her way. However if they are as close as I believe them to be, we can’t overlook the emotional response.”
“How would you pack if you knew that your loved one was held in a near impenetrable fortress hidden in an inhospitable desert? What’s more you have no idea if he is alive or dead nor do you know of why besides of some trumped up arrest charge,” he asked.
Andrea thought about it. “You think she’ll go loaded for bear?”
Philippe smiled at the colorful American expression. “Yes. She will, as you would put it, bring out the big guns. We have never seen these two really get aggressive. It could be rather spectacular!”
Andrea countered, “What about those agents who’d they’d singled out? All had been brutally treated, and one had even been attacked on three different occasions!”
His smile disappeared. “Each of those had not one but many complaints about their behavior towards those in their custody. It is a stain upon this organization that they all weren’t brought on charges.”
“As for the agent you’re referring to, if I remember correctly he was struck in the groin hard enough to cause damage serious enough to require regeneration therapy not once but on three separate occasions. I can only say they were more merciful than I.”
“We both know it was only because his superiors turned a blind eye to his activities that he wasn’t dismissed for disgraceful conduct long ago. I’ve always thought they showed great restraint given they could have simply killed him. Instead it took not one or two attitude adjustments, but three for him to get the idea to formally resign.”
Philippe turned and looked Andrea in her eyes. “Remember this. These two women avoid confrontations whenever they can. In every incident, they rescue mutants from arrest. It can be argued that they are saving lives given the number of fatalities that happen to those within our custody.”
She started to protest, but he held up his hand to forestall her.
“Yes I know those they rescue had warrants for their arrest and our two amazons are criminals for aiding and abetting their escape among other charges. However remember that here, unlike my home; one is not guilty until it is proven. More over, we must hold ourselves to a higher standard of conduct and not behave like animals,” the old inspector said fiercely.
Shaking his head he sighed. “Forgive an old man for drifting off the subject at hand.”
“She will either disappear here to arm herself or have one of their network meet her on the way with said armaments. If here, it is likely it is Alan Glenn’s secret cache that we’ve been unable to find despite our searches of his property.”
His assistant blinked as he changed the subject. “Do you want to increase the surveillance of his home and business?” she asked.
“No. Have Team Two that has been watching Margaret Carson depart for Las Vegas. They need some time to rest. Team Three that was watching Alan Glenn will take over her surveillance. They will accompany us. If we lose her here, I want search warrants for his home. Perhaps if she is hasty and careless we may yet solve this mystery.”
Between Universes
The entity knew not of hunger or pain. Its very body burned with anger and rage. The immense power within it blazed with energy. Its blood, hotter than suns, burned in its veins as matter was devoured by anti-matter in its rampant heart.
Endlessly, it had been trapped in this fissure between worlds. The rage it felt could not be contained and slowly particle by particle it tore itself free. Lightning flowed like rain as electrons were ripped asunder in a flood of power.
Soon it would burst free of this genie’s bottle and the world would burn.
Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte, NC
September 10, 2008
ETWF: 19 Days
Maggie Carson smiled as the Mercedes C-class sedan pulled up to the curb, cutting off a taxi trying to take advantage of the late night nightclub crowd. Her lover jokingly called it, ‘the family car.’ She slipped into the empty driver’s seat; hands snapping shut the five point racing harness as she commanded the car’s autopilot, “Begin Razzle Dazzle.”
The hydrogen powered V12 slammed her back into her seat as it blasted from zero to 60 in under four seconds. The tires squealed as the car nimbly skipped across the lanes of traffic. Val may have done most of the work on the body and motor, but Maggie had added some of her own technical magic as well.
The upcoming traffic light cycled a little slower so the speeding car had a clear road ahead. A Heads-Up-Display (HUD) like that used for high performance military aircraft lit up, identifying upcoming intersections and potential hazards such as the local cops.
Maggie smiled thinking of her pursers’ dilemma. She didn’t need the HUD for that was strictly for Val’s convenience. Using her powers to interfere with her watchers communications she let the autopilot take them away. With luck, no one saw her enter the car, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She just didn’t have the time to screw around.
The car slowed as its system changed the traffic lights behind them to ‘Red Light’ any pursuers. She checked for RPV’s and other surveillance devices but breathed easy when she found none. At a more sedate pace, the ‘family car’ headed for home.
It had started life off as a Mercedes C-class but Val, the car nut, had seen a Brabus Bullit in action. The Brabus Company had taken a Mercedes and after an extensive conversion had turned it into a fire-breathing monster. It was classed with other super-cars costing hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Of course, something like that was way out of character for their cover identities. Therefore, Val decided to build her own. Purchasing one Mercedes publicly and another used one under the table and off the books; she set out to outdo the original inspiration. Her business contacts made it easy to get the parts she needed and a little pleading to Maggie got her all the technical data with a some discreet hacking of the Barbus company‘s database.
What had come from that was what even she had to admit was a work of art, even if it did look like a sedan. After Maggie had gotten involved, they’d had quite the laugh about the super secret spy car they had. Using what started life off as the self-parking system, Maggie had given it the ability to drive itself and other systems that would have made the fabled ‘Q’ envious, even if they couldn’t show it to anyone. Ever the illusionist, Val had outwardly made the two cars match right down to the serial numbers.
Maggie sighed admitting that she’d gone a little over the top with her improvements. The memories of the two of them working together helped to dispel some the worry she felt about the fate of her partner and friend. She was hugging herself when the car pulled into the garage.
Normally the ‘family car’ would be hidden by parking it in the chamber underneath the ‘public car’ so that only one was ever visible. Val had stolen the idea from an old TV program. This time however Maggie would need all the special help she could get and so was taking the ‘family car’ on its first cross-country trip.
Quickly she grabbed her bags loaded down with all kinds of goodies. In the years, they’d been at their Crusade they’d had to prepare for almost any situation. Selecting the kit with the desert survival gear, she added it to her load. Thinking for a moment, she added both hers and Val’s heavy combat rigs to the pile.
Grunting, it took her a couple of trips to get everything loaded. She was glad for Val’s little folly now. Her Ford GTX could almost match the performance of the ‘family car’ but the sedan had a hell of a lot more room.
Back in her hotel room where she’d reviewed the footage of her lover’s abduction she’d recognized McClellan’s face at once. Knowing where to look online she’d found where he’d been taken in for questioning for unspecified reasons. She’d also seen where his employees had the business’s lawyers involved but didn’t expect them to make any difference.
Hitting the kitchen, she packed a cooler full of food and drinks. After dragging that to the nearly full car, she checked the house’s systems. It’d been maintaining the facade that the owner was still there by playing with the lights and other ruses.
Maggie changed it to notify all, that the resident was going on vacation for a few days. Then tired from the long drive to Charlotte as well as the stress and worry about Val she slipped back into the car ordering it to head for Tonopah NV. Reclining the seat back, she closed her eyes as the ‘family car’ backed out, continuing her quest.
Chapter Nineteen
Area 61
ETWF: 22 Days
Alan pushed the keyboard away, finished with his report to his blue suited blackmailers. Doc Mac and his lab monkeys would be measuring everything the kids could do, but to help them grow into their powers Alan had to evaluate their potential. That was more than just what the mutation had done to them. It was also, about what kind of kid they were and the person they could become.
Would they work at improving themselves? Did they have problems in groups or emotional issues? Not to mention since most of this bunch were teenagers, the whole boy/girl thing. When the mutation did its usual of making one stronger, faster, smarter and what-have-you, it often made one more attractive. That only made sense seeing how much appearance had to do propagating the species.
That didn’t ease his concerns about the looks he’d seen Josh and Amanda giving each other. If that wasn’t enough, Billy was going through his own trial regarding not just his sexuality but his very identity. Both Amanda and Malak seemed tolerant of him so far. Speaking of the twins, they’d been reserved so far. Malik definitely needed an outlet for his athletic energies while his sister needed a large enough area for her to practice her flying.
Then there was the whole question of how to deal with his old buddy Maxi-Badd. In a way, having them spar against themselves would be a nice tool. The problem was Max was a sociopath. Alan could almost feel sorry for him, since it was his mutation that had screwed him up royally in the head. That still didn’t make up for all the people he’d killed and crippled.
Sighing he laid down. Somewhere outside of this Hellhole, his lover was on her way to him. No doubt worried and wondering what had happened to him. Closing his eyes, he smiled remembering the last time he and Maggie had been together.
He’d almost drifted off to sleep on that happy thought when his door creaked open. Pretending to be asleep, Alan opened his Senses. He was instantly flooded with information. Scents, sounds, and the very touch of the air-conditioned breeze upon his skin spoke to him.
Miss Nosy Hathaway was still awake with her door open. She had stopped typing and was presumably listening to what was happening at his room. The kids were all asleep, but for the one coming closer to him now. The smell of milk and cookies she’d had was lingering about her because she hadn’t brushed her teeth. Lizzie.
A force-screen reinforced finger harder than a diamond poked him. Alan winced, dropping his sham of being awake. “Hey why did you do that for?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder while sitting up.
According to Doc Mac’s report, Lizzie produced an energy field about her that multiplied her strength many times over as well as protecting her. Using Psycho-kinesis to boost their normal physical abilities wasn’t a new trick among mutants, but usually it was ‘powered’ by what they ate or in some cases absorbed from other sources.
Lizzie’s power level was way up there. It was a mystery where and how she got the energy. Alan thought her biggest problem was that she was only six and was still figuring out this good/bad thing. She had the potential to turn out to be as much trouble as Maxi-Badd, an immensely strong nearly invulnerable spoiled brat.
Ignoring his question, her blue eyes looked into his. “Why is everyone afraid of me? Is it because I‘m different?”
Alan had a feeling this was one of those conversations he just had to get right. Despite what Ollie had told the kids the other night about keeping even him out, if he had to enter their minds, he could. He‘d shown them what a child of his people needed to know, but he was after all an adult. Besides Alan trusted his friend to mentally reach the child and show her what was right and wrong a lot more than he did Courtney, Nosey, Hathaway.
Of course, if he handled this right, neither of them would ever have to. “Am I afraid of you?” he asked.
Lizzie shook her blond curls. “No you pick me up and hug me all the time.”
He sat up and pointed out, “How about Amanda and Malak? They give you hugs too?”
She let a smile slip in. “Un huh. They give me candy too.”
Smiling back he said, “See? Not everybody at all. So why did you poke me?” he asked again.
Her face showed her concentration before she spoke, “I wanted to talk to you.”
Alan smiled at her wanting with all his heart to reach her with this message, “About people being afraid and if you’re different?”
Not being able to help herself she smiled back nodding yes.
“Did you have bullies at your school that pushed the littler kids around?” he questioned.
Her blond curls shook again at her nod. “Jeffery was always pushing everyone. He was mean.”
“Was he the only one who was bigger or taller than everyone else?” Alan continued.
Lizzie replied, “No. Mary Jo was really tall and Frank was big too.”
“Were they all mean too?” he asked.
Her face screwed up again thinking hard, “Sometimes but not always.”
“So the smaller kids were afraid of them because they were bigger and stronger even though not all of them were bullies?” he inquired.
As she nodded, he smiled. “Well there you are!”
She looked at him confused.
Gently Alan took her hands in his. “You’re a lot stronger now, right? And sometimes when you’re not careful, like you did waking me up, you use more strength then you mean to?”
Understanding dawned on her face and her smile disappeared, “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
He hugged the young girl. “Shh princess,” Alan comforted. “Just like those kids who were feared because they’re bigger, some who don’t know better fear those like us. Because we can turn invisible like Josh or make the winds blow while inside like Amanda.”
She spoke up, getting it. “Or stronger like Malik and me?”
“I know you’re not a bully because princesses’ and ballerinas’ are never mean, right?” he said seriously to her.
She got a sad look on her face saying, “They’re always beautiful and graceful, but I don’t mean to be so strong and break things.”
Not wanting her to start crying, he told her, “Today in the Dojo, that was what I was talking about. We’re going to show you how to be careful.”
“But now is time for you to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. All the others are already asleep,” he said, putting her down.
She asked, “How do you know I didn’t brush already?”
Smiling and sending her on her way out his door, “Because a little blue bird told me.”
Putting her hands on her hips, she scowled back. “But there aren’t any birds down here.”
Pretending as if he was watching something flying he replied, “These are the blue birds of happiness. You can’t see them when you’re sad, only when you’re happy. Now off to bed.”
She tried for moment squinting hard trying to see the non-existent birds, before turning and running to her room.
As he watched her leave, he reminded her, “And don’t forget to brush.”
He’d heard Hathaway come out of her room behind him. “You did very well for someone who’s never had children, Mr. Glenn.”
“She should be with her family not down here with the lab mice, but you know how I feel about that,” he said, turning around to face her.
The psychologist shook her head disagreeing. “She wouldn’t have stayed there long. Her parents didn’t have a clue how to handle a child like her. They would’ve sent her off to the Academy or some other school. For people like them, who you marry and the children you have are just status symbols. At the very least Lizzie would’ve interfered with their careers and social lives.”
“So that makes you think she is better off here, or is it because it advances your purposes?” he added.
Her face grew a little flush with anger. “I offer you a compliment and you give me an insult in return. Besides what is wrong with both of us profiting from this?”
His eyebrows rose in confrontation. “Let me give you a definition of wrong. Tomorrow a man convicted of multiple murders is going to create a clone of that little girl. She is going to have all of Lizzie’s strength, but the mind inside is going be one responsible for killing a whole lot of folks. I know you should be able to jerk the strings of any clone if it tries anything, but if you can’t, Lizzie may be the only one who can stop it.”
Alan took a deep breath, “That is what I call wrong.”
Crossing her arms, “I can assure you nothing is going to go wrong Mr. Glenn. I’m quite capable of making sure Mr. Simpson and his temporary copies behave themselves. Speaking of which how did you know I could do so, Mr. Glenn?” she asked frostily.
Giving a sideways grin he replied, “I felt you trying to pry where you weren’t wanted from the very beginning. Now you want to know how. Self-defense, Ms. Hathaway. General La Big-Feet thought he could use a telepath to program us to be good little zoomies too. You learn fast if you still want to be you in the morning.”
Turning to go back to bed, he said over his shoulder. “You haven’t been in this business long enough. Something always goes wrong. Good night, Ms. Hathaway.”
To be continued
The adventure continues in Part 4! Better yet a day early because of limited time tomorrow. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte, NC
ETWF: 22 Days
From long practice, Phillipe Imbert’s eyes snapped open from his sleep. Reaching for hotel nightstand and the ringing phone, he answered, “Yes?”
“This is agent Smith, night detail. We’ve lost the suspect. She left her room at the same time the nightclub crowd was going home. We think she slipped into a Mercedes that roared out of here. We’re trying to trace it now. Sorry sir.”
“Contact the local constabulary and ask they put out an All-Points-Bulletin, APB, on the vehicle. Politely mind you! I will wake the team that came with me. Do your best.”
He was dressing as he dialed Andrea’s number. Her sleepy voice answered, but he gave her no chance to reply, “Andrea our quarry has flown. We will need that search warrant for Alan Glenn’s residence right now. Meet me in the lobby.”
The inspector waited a moment to make sure she was actually awake before dialing the rest of his team. These youngsters. Blah, no staying power! Still he was grateful he had turned in early for it was only a little pass midnight.
He had gathered his bags, wanting to waste no time in departing for the west if Margaret Carson had indeed decamped. It was important to reach Alan Glenn’s house as quickly as possible even though there were agents watching the property.
Even still, he beat Andrea and the rest to the lobby. Sipping this American excuse for coffee, he tried not to make a face. At least dinner had been tolerable with a passable wine. Chivying his drowsy agents along, soon the training, they had all gone though had them wide-awake.
As the time passed, the APB had no hits and the vehicle his agents thought she had escaped in had actually been miles away with its owner safe and sound asleep. Philippe could do nothing but nod as the information came in. But, of course, the car had disappeared into thin air! He was waiting to hear from his agents watching Alan Glenn’s properties, but as yet nothing. It was always possible his cache was somewhere else in this city, but the Inspector favored the simplest approach.
His hopes faded as they drove into their suspect’s neighborhood. A Mercedes did pass them, but alas, it was the wrong color. Philippe had still given the driver careful scrutiny as she passed, but the elfin dark haired girl didn’t look at all like the statuesque strawberry blond model they were chasing. Ever suspicious he made sure Andrea ran the plates anyways.
As he had feared no one had seen anything, but even so, he decided to go ahead with the search. Entering Philippe found the abode typical of the American male. It was tasteful, but the clear primary purpose was for displaying the abundance of entertainment electronics! There was some clutter, but no sign anyone had come and gone in a hurry.
His other agents checked rest of the premises, but he was seeking to get a feel for who Alan Glenn was. There were few pictures, but it seemed sterile to him somehow. Walking to the large garage, He saw that there were several automobiles in various stages of disassembly. The work place was relatively clean and well kept, but their suspect was a professional mechanic after all.
Even this early in the morning, it was still muggy and warm in the back yard. The area was landscaped as to give privacy from the neighbors. Bricked paths wandered among the bushes, trees and other plants. A fountain was set in the center and babbled softly in the southern night.
Sitting on an ornamented bench in this garden, he breathed in seeking to relax. Why all of this he wondered. The house was much what he expected of an American male of Alan Glenn’s reputation. This garden however had a deep peace about it. Certainly, he knew many so called macho males enjoyed gardening. The inspector himself had a passion for roses, but this seemed different to him some how.
Looking about at the trees it occurred to him, five. Not a garden at all but a memorial. One tree for each for his comrades who died. Standing he looked for the best vantage point to view this rather remarkable display. He bumped into a fence.
Andrea helpfully provided a torch letting him survey the area. The property directly to the rear of this one not only did not give any privacy but also gave the best view of the shrine.
Finally daring to speak, Andrea asked, “Did you find something sir?”
Smiling the old Frenchman took her gently by the shoulders turning her to face the garden. “What do you see my dear?”
The young woman responded, “I see a landscaped backyard with a brick path winding around island like areas with trees and bushes. A fountain is in the middle.”
“Alan Glenn lost five people who were like family to him. How many trees are there? Notice how each one is of a different species, Oak, Rowan, Ash, and others. See how the shape they form, yes? Now where is the best place to enjoy this display?”
She turned looking at the same house that had caught his attention. “Do you want me to get another search warrant? The authorities here are getting testy about our requests with little or no evidence.”
“No. As you say, we have nothing of substance. However, who lives here and what make of auto do they drive?” He asked looking for a way in. Failing that, he briskly walked back the way they had come. Pausing he stopped by the trashcan. He took a quick sniff and took the wheel of their SUV.
Andrea struggling to keep up while typing into her PDA had hardly shut her door before they were off. With screech, they stopped in front of the home. The Inspector checked their trash as well before bounding onto the porch of the house.
This home had what could only be called feminine accents with planters hanging from the eaves and the flowery curtains. Peeking in he saw more signs of a woman’s touch. He rushed off the porch to peer over the gate to the backyard seeing a pool and a deck.
He saw her amazed look as he examined the house. Philippe took out his ever-present notepad and made a couple of notes. As a favor to Andrea, he had used one of those new pens that electronically recorded his words although he refused to give up his real paper pad!
“Well,” He said waiting impatiently for her to give him his answers. In all of the years, he had been on this case and now just maybe they had indeed gotten their break.
She read, “Valentina Zarya Savitskaya.” Looking up at her mentor, she said, “She drives a white 2006 Mercedes C-class sedan. That’s the same one we saw leaving as we arrived.” She said excitedly realizing just how close they‘d been.
He too felt the excitement as well but was thinking ahead.
Andrea exclaimed, “That might be enough to get us that search warrant.”
“Yes it might, and it is very tempting. However, it could alert her as well. First we must find that car if we can, but only to follow. This has given us our big break, and we must not squander it! Next, we must find out all about this Valentina. Both of these houses must be closely watched, but I doubt anything will happen here.”
“It will be at Area 61. Merde! We must make haste. Gather the team and make preparations to depart immediately to the nearest large city.” He directed walking back to their vehicle.
She replied, “Las Vegas.”
“Good. See if they have the equipment on hand for two teams out in the desert. I will be on the secure line to the Assistant Director of Investigations. Now is the time for Haste!” He said as they sped off to pick up the other agents. Who knew the number of times Alan Glenn’s house had been searched, but no one had bothered looking at that marvelous garden. A voice within him asked if it was worth it finally to know that he had been right all this time. He heard no answers.
The engineers carefully double-checked each power connection of the rather unremarkable appearing suitcase sized box. What were outrageous were the electrical connections designed to handle loads for entire towns leading into it. In fact, the power bus and backup power supply and the rest of the auxiliary equipment were far larger than the box.
Convinced all was secure the heavy-duty forklift slowly lifted the unit free of the housing that had held it for thirty-four years. Three teams overlooking the move watchful for the tiniest problem. They all knew if anything went wrong, every one of them would be dead before they knew it.
It took hours for the procession to creep out of the high security vaults. The powers-that-be had mandated that the move had to be made at night to avoid as much attention as possible. While many of the crew breathed relived upon reaching Elevator shaft number 6, other’s palms grew sweaty as they positioned the unit in place hooking up the power cables. Muttering prayers, they then placed the explosives meant to eject it from the shaft in case of an emergency.
Emerging from the shaft, they watched as it was position partially up the shaft while the bottom was filled with high-tech foam that quickly hardened into a concrete hard stopper. Weary, the crew departed for their debriefing while another checked their work. Satisfied, they hung a sign on the shaft. ‘Out of Order, Toxic Spill.’
A pair of guards took their post. Unnoticed was the small robot that normally delivered the mail to offices within Area 61. With a whirl of electric motors, it went about its way leaving the architects of Project Meridian unaware that part of their plans had been discovered.
Chapter Twenty-one
Area 61
September 11, 2008
ETWF: 21 Days
Alan opened his green painted locker unsurprised to find a Karate style Gi. Personally, he preferred his Aikido Hakama, but it was after all just clothing. Karate and Judo had been the first forms he’d learned here long ago.
Dressing he tried not to look at the red locker that was also his. It surprised him that so little had changed here in almost thirty-five years even though he was in what they used to call officer country. Really, it was just the instructor’s private changing room.
They all had two lockers, one green with their usual exercise clothes, and one red with their combat gear. Of course, they didn’t have the keys for those back then, but the lockers all had electronic thumb pads now.
Stiffening, Alan heard someone come in with a heavy tread that was definitely wasn’t one of the kids.
He closed his eyes as he heard Doc Mac say, “Hello Alan. I hope I’m not intruding but there has been something I wanted to ask you. When you disappeared so many years ago, just how did you neutralize the radioactive tracer? We found your subcutaneous implant you fed to that dog, but we never expected you to somehow get by the ingested tracer.”
Alan, not caring if he sound civil or not, said, “Fatty tissue. Once I realized how I’d been marked, I knew the compound would accumulate in my fatty tissues. Then it was simply a case of detoxification of those tissues.”
He got some satisfaction from Doc’s shock look of disbelief.
“Tell me you’re not talking about Hubbard?” The old scientist almost begged offended by the very thought.
Alan replied, “Then I won’t, but I will admit that while I don’t care for his works, this one did do the trick.”
Doc Mac shook head in disbelief, “You always were creative and stubborn. Performing surgery on yourself and then you went and brought your body fat index dangerously low. I hope you do know just how hazardous that was.”
More snarl than smile Alan said, “I might’ve been out this prison, but I knew I was still in the trap. Haven’t you ever heard of an animal gnawing off its own leg to escape a trap?”
The old scientist asked sadly, “Was it as bad as that here, Alan?”
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Alan said nothing.
Doc Mac waited for him to answer, but sighed at the silence that was the reply. “I don’t suppose you’re going to reveal where you hid for those 14 years are you?”
Alan only shook head.
The balding scientist shrugged his shoulders sighing. “Alan I can’t change the past. Perhaps some day you can forgive what happened. Now that you’re here there is something I want to show you.”
He paid attention to how Doc’s thumbprint opened the red locker. It figured Doc Mac’s would override everyone else’s personal space
“Come on over and see, Alan,” The scientist gestured him over. “It’s a little bulky to handle easily.”
Sighing, Alan got up and looked at the uniform in the locker. It was blue with white and red trim like The Rocketeer’s had been. The difference was this one was had hard plastic like panels unlike the flexible lightweight mesh theirs had been made of.
He’d always had to wear a helmet because of his supra-speed power. Without it, the speed of his running prevented him from hearing his tactical radio that kept in contact with the rest of his team. The helmet also let them add all sorts of goodies like GPS, sensors, and others.
This one also had a helmet, but it was tear-dropped shaped for streamlining. Picking it up he could see it too was loaded with electronics. “You know Doc. I keep telling you guys I lost my powers. This is nice but doesn’t do me a lot of good.”
“I know Alan. This is what I had planned on giving you years ago following your exposure to Z-Ray 9. Back then you could almost reach Mach 1 and I had hopes that after the exposure you could even break the sound barrier.”
The scientist sighed, “Those were exciting days back then, but even then you had problems stabilizing yourself at high speeds due to air compression problems approaching the sound barrier.”
“Watch this,” Doc Mac said press on a control on the helmet. One by one, panels on the suit opened and closed themselves like flaps and ailerons on an aircraft.
“You see these aren’t for protection so much as they are control surfaces. The computer in the helmet reads your intended destination from your biometrics and uses these surfaces to help. The entire setup would have to be calibrated, but with it I’m sure you could’ve done it.”
“I know that a number of supra-normal flyers have managed to break the sound barrier, but very few have ever done it on land. It is only in the last few years that a man in a machine managed it. Still it is a dream that I suppose will never come true now. I have waited for years thinking your powers would eventually return. Why they haven’t I’m at a complete loss to explain.”
Shaking his head the scientist shook his head sadly, “I suppose I’ll have to wait for another speedster with the old Vroom’s potential to come along. The suit is adjustable so it would take only minor changes to fit it to someone else. Thank you Alan for humoring an old man.”
Rubbing his chin, Alan had to admit it was one hell of super-suit. “It’s a real beaut Doc. Since you said the control surfaces primary purpose wasn’t as armor, they still provide some protection?”
Doc Mac smiled, “That’s correct. The flexible parts of the suit are made from micromesh like your old uniforms, but the hard panels are crafted from a bulletproof thermo-plastic. The mesh, like before, can stop pistol rounds, but the hard panels should be good against most small arms.”
Glancing up at the clock, Alan cut their conversation short. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run, a class to teach.” He said point up at clock on the wall.
Together as they walked out Alan asked. “Hey Doc since we’re talking about super-suits, have you any ideas for ones for the kids?”
Doc Mac ran his hand over his balding head saying, “Well Alan you know me. I am always coming up with ideas. There are some preliminary sketches and thoughts, but we need more data before finalizing anything. After we get them in the lab tomorrow, we should know more. Have you any thoughts Alan?”
Alan grinned, “I might have something to add. Tonight I’ll write them up.” He said walking away.
Well that answers the question if he suspects or not. That would be a big yes. Doc Mac was right. Alan did know him and the man’s brain never ever stopped. He seemed to have the idea Alan might be a metamorph with that talk about the speed suit being adjustable. Yes sirree, he suspected all right.
Now what do you suppose is hidden in that suit; Trackers, explosives, or maybe some other means of incapacitation? Alan had few illusions about his own capabilities. He’d been training his whole life to find and expand those limits. Intelligence and problem solving skills needed to be pushed to improve them just like the body did. He knew his, hard to define quality known as IQ, was up there in the hard to measure area.
It didn’t make him better than anyone else, just faster at figuring stuff out sometimes. Alan also knew Doc Mac was a hell of lot smarter than he was. You just don’t become an expert in so many different fields without having something seriously on the ball. Although no one had ever said so, he’d also thought the only difference between a mad genius like Dr. Mortis and Doc Mac was the latter was more or less on their side.
As kids, he and the rest of Team Rocket had seen that mad glint behind kindly Doctor McClellan’s eyes, and while they all grew to even call him friend, Alan never forgot it. Oh yeah, he knew Doc alright. He was insatiably curious and controlling with his desire to measure and qualify everything.
If Alan ever had doubts about that as a child, he had none now. After more than forty years, Doc was still king down here. All those so-called super-geniues with their grandiose plans, HA! Nothing but pikers. Doc had this state of the art laboratory, paid for by tax dollars, protected by one of the world’s superpowers, and as Alan’s attempt to have him pay for the crimes he’d committed by experimenting on children had proved, exempt from the law.
One-day justice would catch up with him, but for now, he still reigned. Speaking of justice, Alan saw Maxi-Badd being led in by his zoomie cop handlers. Repressing a grin, he noticed Courtney Hathaway in her usual horn rim glasses and white lab coat. Her attempts to manipulate him were almost laughable, but she was working from some mistaken assumptions.
While she might be barking up the wrong tree, he was more concerned with Max right now. “Hey Max. Have a good night?” He greeted the big criminal.
Turning an eye to him that wished him anything but, Maxi replied, “Yeah it was good having weight on my chest again Squirt. That low gravity crap sucks.”
Just like with an animal show no fear, no challenge, just calmness was how he decided was the best way to handle this. Keeping his face neutral, Alan said to him, “Okay I want to keep this as painless as possible for you, as well as for us.”
“Did you get a chance to read those rules of the Dojo I sent you and are you willing to abide by them?” Alan asked.
The con nodded his head. “Yeah, I know’em.” He said shrugging. “What choice do I have if I want’ta be free? You’ve me by the short and curlies.” He said, throwing his head in the direction of Dr. Hathaway and the zoomies holding the remotes to the cortex bomb in his head.
Alan returned his nod saying, “We’ll have each of my students come up to you one at a time for you to touch. When the clone appears, he or she will show the student everything they instinctively know how to do. Then the student will show the clone everything they’ve learned to show the difference between discovering new talents, and learning how to use those gifts.”
After your double ‘times out’ the next student will take their turn. Do you see any problems with this?” Alan asked.
The big guy shook his head. “Nah, that sounds like it will work and thanks Squirt.”
Alan raised an eyebrow in question. “Thanks?”
A sheepishly the con shrugged again. “For not referring to them as its. They’re me, you know? I know them,” He said pointing his fingers at Hathaway and the guards, “don’t think my touch makes people. To them they’re just temporary things, but I know. They’ve begged me to keep them from just disappearing, to keep them from dying, and I would if I could.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more but changed his mind. Then he asked something else. “Are there going to be chicks like ya’ said?”
Blinking Alan asked, “You mean girls? Yes, three of them.” He answered a little alarmed by the question.
The black man got a pained look, “They don’t like that. Awaking as girls, I mean. Its hard enough knowing ya’ only going to be alive for just so long without being a chick too.”
A little relived at the nature of the problem Alan replied, “If it helps any they’ll all be wearing Gi’s like mine. Nothing frilly.” Here’s hoping that Lizzie wasn’t in her tutu today.
The big guy grunted obviously not happy, but Alan couldn’t blame him too much. He was being blackmail too into doing something he definitely didn’t want to. Leaving them, he went to the Dojo where his students were warming up. Calling them to order it was time to start this class.
Mr. Glenn had suspected that Bill might know of Maxi-Badd and he’d been right. Arresting him had been one of The Rocketeer’s more high profile cases. He’d asked him not to alarm the rest of the kids, and had enlisted him to help keep an eye on the huge super-villain.
Right now Bill had butterflies fluttering around inside him after seeing just how large Maxi-Badd was. The black man was huge! He had to duck coming into the room. Bill didn’t think he was prejudiced, but Maxi-Badd was about the scariest person he’d ever seen.
It didn’t help knowing that a whole lot of people had died at his hands. The Chicago supra-team, the Untouchables, was mauled by him. The Rocketeers hadn’t any too easy of time either, but had managed to carry the day. The damage had been estimated to be in the millions and many calls had gone out for the death penalty.
The American Civil Liberty Union had gotten involved when it’d become clear that to execute Maxi-Bad would require extreme means that they declared as cruel and unusual punishment. ULTIMATE solved the problem with the activation of Dark Side Penitentiary.
That prison on the moon became the new boogieman for mothers to threaten their kids with. Behave yourself or you’ll be sent where the real monsters were. Now here was one of the Trolls of his childhood in the flesh.
Mr. Glenn explained that Saul Simpson was on a work release program designed to help young mutants stay away from crime. His power besides being so big was to duplicate others temporarily with a clone. This copy would have all of their powers but none of their memories or even look much like them besides in general size and shape. They were more like Saul Simpson versions of themselves.
Since the duplicate had an instinctive knowledge of how to use their powers, Saul was going to help them discover more about their abilities. One at a time, they were going to take turns letting Mr. Simpson copy them. Then the clone would show them the things she or he could do with their power.
Mr. Glenn called out, “You’re first Josh.”
Bill could see the high school junior wanted nothing more than to cause another ‘Code Joshua,’ but he’d been tolerant the whole day so far. Unhappily, Josh walked over to the big convict and bowed like he’d been told.
A bloom of light and then suddenly there was someone else in the room as the mass-murderer touched him.
The new guy looked liked a younger Maxi-Badd except with hair. However in everything else but the face he looked liked Josh. Both Maxi-Bad and Maxi-Josh had their eyes shut. When they opened them, the big man breathed a sigh of relief while the clone winced as if finding out something really unpleasant.
That confused Bill. He could tell whatever was happening was supercharged with emotions, but didn’t know why.
Maxi-Bad urged the clone to bow and hesitantly he did. Then Josh and Maxi-Josh stepped to the center of the Dojo to do their thing. The older boy got some of his own medicine as his clone faded out in front of him. Then he reappeared but then Bill and everyone else disappeared!
He held out his hand in front of him but didn’t see a thing. Bill heard everyone muttering a little panicky but Mr. Glenn shouted, “Hold!”
They’d been told when they heard that to instantly stop and back away if sparring or cease using whatever power you’d been using.
Bill breathed as he could see himself again. He saw the security police guys relax some too.
Maxi-Josh said, “It’s just like your invisibility power telling everyone one ‘don’t see me’ except I’m telling everyone ‘I don’t want’ta see ya.’ I think ya’ could blind people too by telling them, ‘see nothing.’ He pointed at the security police, “I didn’t want to make’em too nervous.”
Then Josh tried doing some of the same things. Bill did see he went invisible a lot faster than the clone did, but he had problems with the new stuff. He couldn’t make everyone disappear but he could make someone else other than himself, which was neat.
Bill found himself glancing over at Malak. He still thought she was just so exoctic looking. It was awkward talking to her even though they’d been in classes together for the last two days. Morosely he thought that even if he did know what to say, he wasn’t even sure what he was at heart, a boy or a girl.
Thinking about that was how he missed what happened. Bill knew that Maxi-Badd’s clones only lasted 15 or 20 minutes or even sooner if he made more than one. He guessed it was almost time for Maxi-Josh to dematerialize when Dr. McClellan showed up!
He couldn’t hear much of what was being said, but it sounded like Dr. McClellan wanted to some tests on the clones before they disappeared. Mr. Glenn and Maxi-Bad didn’t like that, but the Doctor got his way.
Then it was his turn to be cloned. He was a little surprised at the shapes he could take but it seemed Maxi-Bill couldn’t do his disguise trick. Well he wasn’t going to show anyone that because it was his way to be her. It was a private thing.
Then it was over and Dr. McClellan came for Maxi-Bill. This time he heard the huge old criminal almost whisper, “I just don’t want’em to have’ta die alone.”
Bill just couldn’t get those words out of his mind even when Lizzie started flying, Amanda made it snow, and Malak threw a lightning bolt. As each clone was led out, he kept hearing those words. “I just donna' want’em to have’ta die alone.” Those sad rough spoken words were made by a towering troll of a man who had proven to the world that he was a true monster by the lives that had ended in his huge hands. It was something that kept the teen awake that night thinking that perhaps somewhere within that ogre was still a human heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Las Vegas
September 12, 2008
ETWF: 20 Days
Inspector Imbert finished his fond farewell to the marvelous chef whom had prepared such a wonderful lunch for him. He had eaten here before at the unassuming pink brick restaurant in Las Vegas, but this time it was perfection. Philippe did not delude himself into thinking he was a gourmet. He was simply a Frenchman who missed the flavors and familiar dishes of his home.
He felt not the least bit guilty of putting the sizable bill on his expense account. After dealing with his unpleasant superior on the night before, it was only a just reward. Philippe had wanted to warn him of the American military illegally experimenting on children once more.
Instead, he had found the directors had actually aided the Americans in this endeavor by releasing into their custody a very dangerous criminal! Rather than investigate and confront them with evidence of the breaking of the treaties, they were fueling the fire hoping that it would boil over!
It somehow escaped them that there were innocents involved. Or perhaps it did not, he thought sourly. The six children were but mutants after all. No, the directors had not been dismayed at all by the possibility that Lady Athena and the Tech-Witch were also involved in this potentially catastrophic situation dangerously bubbling away. It was their fondest wish that all of their problems would eliminate each other leaving ULTIMATE nothing to do, but say, I told you so.
They had denied his requests for one of ULTIMATE’s supra-teams as well as a dropship assault company to be placed on stand-by in Las Vegas. Further, he would not even have any support at all other than his investigation and the surveillance teams that had been watching Margaret Carson and Alan Glenn.
Needless to say, if something did happen out in the Mojave those scant resources would be helpless in the face of what he thought might erupt. He had decided to have his people cover the towns nearby Area 61. They would be best used to see who went into the area and with good fortune pick up survivors on their way out.
That strategy had already had some early success by sighting Maggie Carson in a Tonopah diner. She must have driven like a mad woman all night to reach here so soon, but there she was. That opened up the possibility of following her to her destination.
Despite his age he felt the desire to finally to know if his guesses had been correct about Alan Glenn and Maggie Carson. It boggled the mind that even he failed to see just how deep a game they might be playing. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together but the picture it formed was one that was totally unexpected.
Andrea was waiting for him at one of the outrageous American Hummers vehicles. He knew of their reputation for being able to go anywhere, but did they have to make them so big and ugly?
She had looked on amused as he had profusely praised Chef Raul. Climbing into the vehicle, he was thankful this one had air conditioning. They had a trip of three hours to look forward to. Plenty of time to discus Valentina Savitskaya and the unexpected twists this case had taken.
His assistant sighed as she saw the folder she had prepared in his hands. Philippe smiled at her reaction. Often, in this profession, one must think in a twisted convoluted fashion like law-enforcement criminal profilers. However for them it was even worse given the mad genius and abilities their suspects often possessed.
Holding up the folder, he asked, “Since you prepared this, what are your thoughts on the connection with Valentina Savitskaya?”
Andrea closed her eyes giving her to gather her thoughts and began. “Valentina Zarya Savitskaya is 37 and was born in the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic. She immigrated to the United States in 1990 and has worked for several modeling agencies but primarily for Margaret Carson’s.”
Philippe kept his smile to himself as he observed his assistant’s happiness with finding facts that were more in line with her view of the world. Nodding for her to continue, he sat back to listen.
“She is in our database going by the code name of Dixie Belle.” Andrea got a pained look as she read the rest. “Unfortunately, she is known for saying ‘I’m just a girl from Georgia’ with an over the top southern accent.”
“The official profile lists her as a Beta class mutant with the power of heighten senses. She was one of the many mutants that suddenly appeared at the breakup of the Soviet Union. It was clumsily explained as a paperwork error, but was really just their hiding what amounted to a small army of supra-humans. She and her family lived in Almaty 3; one of the USSR’s hidden cities researching supra-humans. ”
Excitedly Andrea went on with her report. “Because her powers were combat oriented she was trained in special forces tactics and strategies. She is also a gymnast and has martial arts training. Additionally her general description matches that of Kali. ”
Gently as not to embarrass her, the inspector asked, “With an oblivious connection to Ms. Carson why was she not considered a suspect at the beginning?”
Her enthusiasm waning she replied, “Age and location. Kali’s first confirmed appearance was in 1989 making Valentina not only 17 but still living in the USSR. Moreover, although some of her powers were somewhat like those exhibited by Kali, She lacks the strength and physical toughness.”
“I can see the links, but not how it all fits together.” Andrea said irked. “She works for Carson, but lives next door to Glenn. Her house shares a view of that garden which has great emotional significance to him. She is a registered mutant and superhero, he isn’t. Both have a military background, perhaps she even more so than he, given her Spetsnaz training.”
“Carson drops everything and heads straight to where when she gets the message he’s been arrested although the entire incident was kept very low key. Not even a message to this Valentina although she’d worked for her for years. However, we both saw Savitskaya last night leaving for Tonopah where we saw her car today. But our surveillance team hasn’t spotted the Russian at all, just the car and Carson.” She said shaking her head.
Inspector Imbert rubbed his chin in thought and then said, “We need more information about Ms. Savitskaya’s family and life before she immigrated. Moreover we need to know where they are now and what they‘re doing. I feel the 14 years Alan Glenn was missing is the key to this puzzle.”
Looking at her speculatively he asked, “Let us say you’re 14 years old and running away from home. Where would you go?”
Andrea thought about and answered, “The larger cities are always good places to lose oneself. The problem is many of the children who do so are taken advantaged of by predators of every stripe.”
Phillippe nodded and asked another, “Let us change the question. How about a person who’d received several years of training in espionage?”
She smiled saying, “That is a different scenario. I would try to find the last possible place anyone would think to look. Either under their nose where they wouldn't look or some place where it would difficult for my pursers to follow.”
Shaking a finger in the air, the inspector declared, “But that is exactly the question we have to answer. Alan had four years of training in many of the espionage arts as well as being fourteen years old. He also had an abiding distrust of his government.”
“You bring up another good point with mentioning the old Soviet program to hide their supra-humans from ULTIMATE inspection teams. Did the United States have or was it developing some way of letting them pass an examination without revealing their powers? Is this why Alan Glenn consistently passes our tests?”
“Patience, Andrea. We are gathering the pieces. Trust me. We will figure out this tangle. For now look for those records, while I decide who amongst our available resources has the best chance of trailing Margaret Carson into the Mojave.” The inspector said looking out the tinted windows as the outskirts of the city disappeared. His reflection gave the illusion of him floating outside in the oppressive heat. A thought teased his consciousness, but escaped him. Sighing he turned back to his work.
Tonopah, NV
Maggie spotted her tail on her way back to the ‘family car’ from the café. The energy signatures from their weapons labeled them as ULTIMATE agents. Discoveries made possible by captured Alien technologies from the attempted invasion some ten years ago had found all sorts of applications. They made possible energy weapons like the GATS, but they were so expensive no one else could afford them.
She found it ironic that ULTIMATE had argued for the costly weapons because they faced threats unlike that of most law enforcement officers. The GAT was the one weapon her powers could completely control. Oh, she could shut down the fancy sighting devices most conventional handguns had now days, but she couldn’t stop the purely mechanical operation unless she was so close it didn’t really matter.
Still smiling she remembered an old line from a favorite movie as she quickly slipped into the passenger seat. ‘The fancier the plumbing the easier it is to stop up the drain.’ The actor that had said that had gone on to his rewards amongst the stars, but she wondered what he would say about their ‘family car.’ Both Val and she had given it as many ‘bells and whistles’ as they could stuff into it.
She put one of those to work now. From the outside, it appeared as if Val had been reclining on the driver side and was now sitting up ready to go. In reality, no one was there at all. Maggie had even carried a bag of food with her as if to give it to her driver. It was more smoke and mirrors if hi-tech ones. When the car was operating without a driver, the images helped eliminate anyone freaking out at the driverless machine.
However, with her ability to directly interface with the system let her produce any picture she desired. Her modeling work had refined her eye for such things and she made sure to further confuse the fact Val wasn’t with her. Maggie may not be the illusionist her lover was, but the fashion industry was also adept at creating fantasy without substance.
On her command the ‘family car’ backed out and headed towards the hotel where she‘d been planning on staying. Seeing her tail following she sighed. She’d really wanted a day or two to prepare herself before heading into the sand, but it seemed she wasn’t going to get it. Maggie should’ve expected someone would be on the ball and was watching the small towns around her objective. She could’ve hidden in the muddle that was Las Vegas, but it was three hours away. Her desire to be closer had betrayed her.
Maggie closed her eyes concentrating sending her power out seeking the vehicle following her. Feeling the web of electricity, she dripped her meta-physical fingers into the steam of electrons disrupting the current. With a crackle, the alternator/generator fried itself. Smiling to herself, she knew that with the air conditioning, radios, and whatever else running it wouldn’t take long to kill the battery. She hoped they had roadside assistance.
Soon enough she was free of observers, and free to proceed to her planned hiding spot. All the surveillance the government kept upon Area 61 and the surrounding communities made it a challenge to find a secure place. Talk about having a tough time finding a spot to park!
Pulling into the ruins of the old ranch, she used a branch to cover her tire tracks. Then it was time for some more magic. Maggie unfolded the photo reactive material and placed it over her car. It was just another piece of tech-magic inspired by her lover’s passion for illusions. This had taken her some time to get right because it needed to be primarily solar powered as well as able to reliably produce the desired images.
She changed into appropriate clothing for the job at hand and readied her gear. Settling everything into place, she turned facing her car. As she mentally activated the shroud, the material rose up assuming the rough outlines and colors of an old rusty hulk of a truck. Invisibility was hard to maintain in a changing environment, but concealment was another matter.
Turning, she set off into the waving heat of the inhospitable desert.
Area 61
September 13, 2008
Alan grinned at the excited looks his students gave him as they followed him to the hideout. He’d let them know earlier that they were going to sneak out to the clubhouse tonight. Tonight was Saturday and there wasn’t any training for tomorrow. As far as their watchers were concerned, they were all glued to the TV in the common room.
Big Mac and Ollie had gotten better at overriding the security cameras and they all had a lot to talk about after their first week here. The mysterious power drain had slowed and given them about another week according to Big Mac’s analysis. The AI also had another good piece of information for them. It had sneakily managed to use the little robots running around here as his spies. He’d seen the techs stuffing some kind of gadget into elevator 6.
They hadn’t a clue what it was except it required a hell of a lot of power and that the zoomies had packed explosives underneath to presumably blow it out the top of the shaft. Then they had sealed the bottom off and put guards around it. The interesting part was, whatever it was, it was the source of that power drain Big Mac had been monitoring.
Presumably, that box was why he and the kids had been brought down here for Doc Mac to use for guinea pigs. With it sealed up in that shaft, there no way to take a closer look. Nope if they were going to find out what was going on they were going to have find another way.
Getting everyone out, he shut the secret door behind them. His students had learned much in the week. Malik was more relaxed now that he had an outlet for all his pent up energy. He was happy being bounced around the Dojo, and just as glad to be the bouncer. Josh had also grown not only in his powers but also in maturity. The teenager had been surprised to learn his own physical strength and stamina were greater now.
Amanda had been unwilling at first to use her powers, but now with a little prompting by her teammates had grown more comfortable with them. She still had a long way to go, but it was a start. Malak was learning things about her magnetic powers like throwing lightning as well as projecting a protective screen not just for her, but for her friends as well.
Entering the clubhouse, Lizzie seeing Ollie jumped up into the air towards him giggling, “Ollie, I can fly!”
The small alien sent back to the happy child floating in the air beside him, “Yes. I see!”
Alan was content seeing how much the six year old had adapted to their unusual situation. After she’d talked to him that night she’d been able to get over some of her sadness. Lizzie had also learned how to use her energy field to fly and how to better control her strength.
They were also becoming friends just as he and The Rocketeers had many years ago. Josh and Malik were doing that male bonding thing, while the girls Amanda and Malak were already close. Lizzie had quickly become everyone’s little sister and their mascot.
That left Billy. He was still struggling with his feelings and desires. The teenager really needed someone to talk to, but that was a problem. Courtney Hathaway was a psychiatrist, but from what Ollie was telling him if he knew what her plans were for the kid, he would have to hurt her, bad.
That left him or Ollie. His friend the alien was one of the wisest people he knew, but the whole human gender sexuality thing was a mystery to him. That left Alan and he feared that he would have to reveal secrets that he would rather keep. Besides that, Billy was doing fairly well developing his elastic ability even if he was keeping his mimic talent under wraps.
As for the other kids, Billy hadn’t developed any close friends yet, but had an obvious crush on Malak. Alan was pleased that she hadn’t taken his shyness towards her the wrong way, and was simply ignoring it for now. Amanda had surprised him by acting as a moderator with Malak reminding her how it felt to be the odd kid out.
Lizzie had begun spending almost as much time with Billy as with the older girls. That puzzled the others a little but not Alan. Younger children and animals always knew, it seemed.
For that matter, it was still happening. Dr. Hathaway was wondering why Lizzie, and the others were coming to him for comfort and not her. After all, it was traditionally the women that children came to for such things. He couldn’t deny that his maternal side didn’t enjoy the experience, however it was a flaw in his long held deception.
Moreover, as much Dr. Hathaway might have been out maneuvered earlier she was no one’s fool. She was beginning to notice the kids weren’t reacting the way she wanted. They’d all known Ollie’s little mental mirror trick would only work for just so long. The dear Doctor would begin looking for answers and sooner or later, she would find them. This damn pit acted like a hothouse forcing all of them together in almost constant contact. Tonight was the one night she took away to decompress, but there was no such outlet for him.
Eventually, his true self would begin to show, and sharp-eyed very smart people like Dr. Hathaway and Doc Mac would see it. If that wasn’t enough stress for him, they now had only two weeks before D-Day.
Shaking his head, he pushed his worries aside and tried to enjoy the laughter and happiness as his students chattered away, free of fears of being overheard. Looking at the round table that dominated the room it gave him bittersweet feelings like always. That carved table stood for some lofty ideals but also for mutual respect and friendship.
Picking up the gravel his brother Gus had purloined long ago, Captain Vroom called the Order of the Rocketeer Round Table to order.
Chapter Twenty-three
September 15, 2008
ETWF: minus 17
Outside of Tonopah NV
Looking out the SUV’s window at the desolation, Philippe Imbert sighed. It had been three days since his agents had lost Margaret Carson. More certain than ever, he knew she was one of the two he had sought for so long. The mechanical difficulty the two agents had suffered while clever was just too convenient for it to be happenstance.
He knew many found the desert landscape stunning, but even as he could appreciate its stark contrasts, he could not call it beautiful. The abandoned ranch with its abandoned rusting truck out front spoke of man’s endless conflict with nature. This area was where they had lost their quarry’s trail.
Margaret Carson must have stashed her car somewhere nearby, but searches had turned up nothing. Considering how tricky they were, it could be right under their very noses. He had hoped for some flash of insight like that in Alan Glenn’s garden, but alas nothing.
Philippe knew Area 61 bordered this old ranch, and that their security was formidable. The web of sensors and detection devises made movement of anything larger than a coyote impossible because of responding security police.
And it was all useless against the foe they faced. Expecting such to stop someone who commanded machines as the Tech-Witch did was sheer foolishness. Still for his own peace of mind, he had to imagine that breaking into a place as heavily guarded, as Area 61 would prove challenging for even such as she.
At least their information search regarding Valentina Savitskaya had been more successful. He turned his attention back to Andrea’s brief. With the Directors refusal to provide more support with even a helicopter, it took forever to get anywhere because of the vast area they had to cover. He had taken to doing much of his day-to-day work while moving.
“Much of the information about their secret mutant facilities was kept on paper to keep our inspection teams from finding them. When Kazakhstan split from the USSR, and our staff was overwhelmed trying to deal with registering thousands of new mutants, many of those records were lost, stolen, or destroyed.”
“There is an addendum that she may have lied about her age in the confusion. She might be 10 years older, but it is hard to be sure with the longevity many mutants share. With so many of them going rogue, one young woman lying about her age didn’t brother anyone.” His assistant reported.
The inspector nodded, “Indeed. Many went to work for the emerging Russian Mafia instead of like their American counterparts forming their own criminal enterprises. That’s not to say there still aren’t more virtual supra-Warlords in that part of the world than we would like.”
Andrea flicked her laptop screen to the next page. “Mutant-stan.”
Philippe shook his head in disagreement. “Zolotoye-Yablochko is an entirely different situation. It was one of those secret cities you just mentioned. Mutant-stan was the popular name coined by the press. It is not accurate. It is a separate country, but is completely surrounded by Kazakhstan. Its autonomy was a tactic to have the supra-humans living there out from under the ban of serving in the military.
They realized that to declare independence would simply make them a target so they have strong mutual protection agreements with Kazakhstan. Unlike Professor Mortis’s little kingdom of Haemus in the Balkans they haven’t convinced the rest of the world that they would be willing to blow up everyone if they’re invaded.”
He sighed, “I suppose there is some advantage of being a paranoid schizophrenic. A competent brilliant paranoid schizophrenic,” the inspector amended speaking of Professor Mortis.
“Between Haemus and Zolotoye-Yablochko, they have the greatest concentration of ULTIMATE resources pre-positioned against them. Haemus is dead center where, if a weapon of mass destruction did go off, it would cause untold misery. Zolotoye-Yablochko never signed the ULTIMATE accords, and with those mutual protection treaties in place, attacking them would be the same as declaring war on Kazakhstan. Of course military action in any country that has not signed the accords violates our charter. Despite that, warmongers amongst us that argue Zolotoye-Yablochko is nothing, but a refuge for criminals.”
Andrea shook her head smiling, “No sir, you misunderstand. Valentina Savitskaya is from Almaty 3, the city that became Zolotoye-Yablochko. Her family is still there. It appears to be quite large. Her parents are still living, and she has 12 brothers and sisters. She was number seven. Some of them could be adopted given the practice was encouraged during the early years of the city in the mid 1970’s.”
Meeting her mentor’s eyes she said, “Gregor and Ludmila Savitskiy were both entertainers and performers in one of the traveling state circuses. They were billed as illusionists.”
She watched his eyebrows rise, and continued. “After their oldest child Peter was discovered to be a mutant they moved the entire family to Almaty 3 rather than split up. They began a school teaching dance, acrobatics, and gymnastics as well as putting on recitals and shows. It was here that we found dates that didn’t match up which is what made us think she lied about her age.”
Philippe had to smile. “If we arrested every woman who’d ever lied about her age we would have no time to look for criminals. However, it is very interesting her family were stage magicians. It provides background into the way she thinks.”
“I know our representatives aren’t welcome there, but Zolotoye-Yablochko might be a good place to look for all of our missing suspects. Finding them would help prove a link between our two amazons and Zolotoye-Yablochko.” He said making a quick note.
Andrea nodded. “I’ll put in the request, but I understand that they consider mutants fleeing such charges as political refugees. As such they keep their names secret and even provide new identities to protect their families from reprisals.”
She hesitated before asking, “Sir is that something they really need to fear from us? I know the law has to be enforced, and mutants because of their powers are special cases. However, do their families need to be afraid of us?”
Looking up from his notes the inspector replied, “We’ve talked some about this before. In the beginning, our organization, was here to prevent national governments from using these supra-humans against each other. In a way we were protecting these unusual people from being exploited, but also to keep the criminals amongst them from taking advantage of the world’s majority which had no powers at all.”
“Obviously that has changed as some from that majority have become fearful of these special peoples and seek to control them. So many of them have let their fears turn them into fanatics. ULTIMATE has changed as more and more of its personnel come from them.”
“I would like to think that no, these refugees families have nothing to fear. However, fanatics are not rational. So, I’m sad to say that they might be right to take such precautions.” He paused seeing her troubled expression.
“There is still hope. Not everyone here sees all mutants as the enemy, yet. If the fanatics had completely taken over, open-minded agents like you would never have made it though the selection process. Soon I’ll be enjoying my retirement sipping wine at a picturesque chateau in France, but your task if you don’t grow jaded or give up in frustration will be to take our agency back from these warmongers.”
He brought his hands together signaling an end to that tropic and asked, “Do we have any information on the current activities of Ms. Savitskaya’s extended family?”
Referring to her laptop again, she gave him the unpleasant news. “Peter, her eldest brother, is a Colonel in their Army. He is one of their top dozen officers given its small size. We have little official testing data on him because he along with his files disappeared during the USSR’s breakup. He didn’t reappear until Zolotoye-Yablochko became an independent nation.”
Philippe felt an uncomfortable lump in his stomach as she spoke. He was very much afraid he knew of who this Peter was going to turn out to be. Early in the formation of the new country, a part of Kazakhstan’s army rebelled and tried to invade the breakaway republic. Tried was the right word. The short-lived rebellion was crushed so quickly that it was over before most knew it had even begun. One of the reasons for that was a man who had astonishingly strong powers of Telekinesis. He disabled tank column after tank column by simply picking up the multi-ton machines and turning them over onto their backs.
“Peter the Great,” Andrea read. “Was the name given to him by his troops and it has become his official code name. We have an exhaustive file on him, but little real data. Beyond any doubt, he is one of the most powerful telekinesis talents on the planet. Because he is so high profile, more information is limited. It was only in a cross search I found out about her being his sister by matching the ages and dates.”
The Frenchman raised his eyebrows asking, “So no one else knows of this?”
She closed her laptop replying, “No sir, just us. He didn’t become a person of interest until after she’d already immigrated. Their intelligence service did a good job of limiting knowledge of his family to the public, but I found it only because I back-tracked her data trail and not his. It was only by comparing the two I found their relationship.”
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he made his decision. “For now let’s keep this quiet. I do not know if this would make the directors change their minds or not, but to blackmail another with safety of their family. That leaves a foul taste in my mouth that I know the others that we were just discussing would leap at. I leave it to you to find the best way to secure that data.”
He watched her as she thought for a moment and then watched as she opened her computer and deleted the information. The inspector might be old but he knew those zealots within the department did not trust his devotion to justice. It had occurred to him that Andrea might have been assigned to keep an eye on him. Perhaps she was a talented enough actress to have kept him fooled, but he thought not.
Turning his attention back to the desert, he wondered what Alan Glenn was doing right now? Where was Margaret Carson? Had she broken the security of one of the great fortresses of the age? He wondered if he would ever know.
Chapter 24
Area 61
Alan felt good all things considered. His history class earlier in the day had gone well as had his other class the kids had taken to calling Powers 101. Maxi-Badd may be effective at making his students stretch their powers, but for their other skills, it was up to the 35 or so years of training he had.
Malik was a naturally competitive kid that needed a good workout the way a racehorse needed to run. Alan had solved part of his problem by having the youth show Lizzie the basics. He could survive her accidental overenthusiastic responses, and it served to work off energy for both of them. That left Malak, his sister, to help with the others. Since she, Amanda, Josh, and Billy, had only moderate increases in strength and toughness it worked out well.
His workout with Malik had been satisfying today. They were both able to have a good hard workout as the younger boy learned how to control his powers. In effect he was carbon fiber reinforced. It made him damn hard to hurt, and his stronger muscle fibers made him far stronger than he looked. Then had come the next surprise of the day that Alan had for them.
All the guys had looked betrayed when Alan had revealed they were all taking dancing lessons. Okay he didn’t included Billy with them. He’d looked nervous afraid someone would figure out he wanted to dance. He’d paired him up with Malak while putting Josh and Amanda together.
Malik, he’d bouncing between both his sister and Amanda, but primarily he wanted to get him to get involved in the acrobatic like break dance. The kid was fast, but with his much greater strength to weight ratio he could be a lot more agile. The acrobatic dance would help with that and maybe he could sneak in some gymnastics in too. Doing the iron cross on the rings was always impressive and a good draw to newcomers.
Courtney Hathaway was the official dance instructor, but she had been open to his suggestions. They both knew the dancing was just to help the kids learn coordination and how to work closely with someone else.
As for Lizzie, she’d been ecstatic taking the ballet lessons, but even she’d been ready to call it day after the class was over.
Finishing cleaning up, he was ready for some food. Walking into the cafeteria, he saw nothing but long faces. Taking a tray and walking down the chow line he soon saw why. Alan had to keep from wincing every time one of the cooks dumped more unappetizing gunk on his plate. By the time he’d sat down his face was just as long as theirs was.
The kids were all just kind of poking at their food, which didn’t look any better than his did. A couple of them had eaten the fresh fruit provided but that wasn’t enough to make a meal for a pack of hungry kids. You would think that Doc would’ve learned from last time that it didn’t matter how good for you it was if it looked and tasted like crap. Of course, this could just be another of Doc Mac’s tests, which it probably was.
Back in the day, The Rocketeers had figured out how to escape for brief times. They’d known going back to their families was a lost cause, but there’d been an old fashioned hamburger stand named Dad’s that’d really hit the spot for a bunch of staving teenagers. It became a test and a game for them to solve the puzzle with some good ole American junk food as their reward. More to the point, Alan had found out by a comment to one of their zoomie guards that Dad’s was not only still there, but the food was just as good.
Not able to repress his grin he asked the table, “How would you guys like to get some real food?”
As one, they turned and looked at him. Alan imagined a pack of staving wolves would look less ferocious.
“Dump this stuff, and meet me by the restricted area. Be ready for a ride.” He told them looking pointedly at the tutu Lizzie was still wearing. “Food or tutu, which is it?”
She looked down at her pink dancewear, and hurried out at a run. Alright then, food it is. Amanda grabbed Lizzie’s tray as the rest reached the same decision. Watching them leave, he reached mentally out to his friend. “Ollie? You there old buddy?”
Instantly he was answered. “Yes, Alan I’m here. Is there some kind of problem?”
He was working out in his head how soon Doc or Lying-to-Me-Laramie would be notified something was up. Hathaway was likely still in the shower, and so would be the slowest to respond. Of them, only Doc and the General would know what he intended.
“No problem Ollie, just an offer. How would you like to take the buggy out for spin out to Dad’s and back?” Alan sent.
Ollie’s reply was full of longing. “It has been many years since I last enjoyed a strawberry shake, but Alan is this wise? I am certain that we can avoid getting caught, but Doctor McClellan and General Laramie will be upset at you.”
Getting up he emptied his tray while looking at his watch. Walking swiftly he missed the squad of zoomie cops storming into the cafeteria. “That’s a good thing Ollie. Hathaway is catching on that her mind control trick isn’t working on the kids. I want their attention on me. Moreover, this is just the thing to help bond them together. You know the old primitive instinct of sharing food you had to go out and run down.”
The little alien’s remark was full of humor, “You humans are a strange species, but it is sad that my people couldn’t put aside their greed for your blue world. There is much your people could have taught mine.”
Alan ducked though the gym coming out the back of the medical block. He knew now it was the General who’d been told. Doc would’ve been waiting at the hanger doors for him. Only Laramie would try old-fashioned brute force. “So you’ll meet us on board?”
Ollie sent back, “But of course. I hope you remembered your wallet my friend for you’re buying!”
He got to the intersection of the hallway and saw his students waiting. With a quick gesture, he called them over. They had maybe a few minutes before security vectored in on him using the cameras.
“This way.” he called leading them to an access door. It wasn’t normally guarded because it didn’t go anywhere. The Hanger wasn’t normally guarded either relying on the vault like locks to keep out trespassers. However, the hanger had another entrance that this access way did lead to and although the General undoubtedly sent zoomies to the front, he was betting the back had been forgotten.
His grin got even larger as they reached the unguarded door. It still had the sophisticated cipher lock, but that wasn’t a problem. Opening his sight, he could feel the last two men to use this door. Seeing deeper he saw the ten key code they’d used. Running over the combinations in his head it took an act of will not to shake his head. It seemed that some things really don’t change. Now to use a little misdirection.
Alan heard their moans as they saw the keypad. He silenced them by raising his hand. “Do either of you girls have anything that sprays like perfume or hairspray?”
Amanda and Malak looked at each other and handed him a small aerosol bottle of breath-fresher.
Spray the pad, he said, “The liquid should bead up on the keys used because of the oils on the fingers.”
All the kids were clustered around trying to see as sure enough the trick worked.
Billy saw part of the solution. “Hey it’s the odd numbers except for that 2.”
Alan decided to give them a little help, “Remember what I’ve said about tests. This is The Rocketeers’ hanger.
Josh got another suggesting, “Could be the Prime numbers, divisible only by one and itself.”
Amanda got the rest of it. “Descending order like a countdown. The first ten primes counting backwards.”
Quickly he punched in the keys with a flourish saying, “See nothing to it.”
Alan could hear the kids grasping as they saw their ride.
Billy awed breathed out, “It’s the Rocket!”
Malak’s just as wide-eyed corrected him. “That’s a flying saucer.”
“No, I don’t mean a rocket, The Rocket. Look, you can see the name as part of the red racing strips. It was The Rocketeer’s transport.
Alan couldn’t help himself from bouncing on the toes of his feet looking at the bright silver saucer. It was really only the rebuilt remains of the spaceship Ollie had come to Earth in.
Old Big Feet Lafitte had another one of his cows when he’d found how they’d repainted their Buggy with racing stripes. The design for once was all Alan’s and he was proud that he’d been able to talk Alice and Jeff out the flame job they wanted on it. Not that Big Feet appreciated the difference.
Ollie called from within, “If you still want to go, you better hurry. They are at the door.”
As one, they all clambered on board. Alan was busy seating the kids as they gawked at the interior, and that Ollie was already seated in the pilot’s bubble. The warning klaxons started their cry amid the flashing yellow lights as the saucer lurched on its way to the launch rail.
Keeping his feet, Alan doubled checked everyone’s harness before vaulting to his own seat. He’d just made it as a solid thump told him they had engaged the rail. The Rocket started tilting upwards amid the new passengers startled exclamations.
Alan yelled out over them all, “Everyone hold on! We’re beginning the countdown. I’ve got to warn you, Ollie likes to drive fast.”
He leaned over clicking a button letting them listen to the speaker outside. “Ten. Nine. Glenn! Seven. You stand down! Three. You hear me! Zero, Ignition!
Alan sent back hurriedly, “Hey! We’ll be right back! I’ll bring you back a ‘Big Daddy and some fries!” Right before they were kicked hard upwards!
Ollie ecstatically emitted, “Yah Hoo!!!”
He just couldn’t resist adding a hardy, “Yee Hah!” to his joyful friend’s cry.
With a wide grin he asked, “So what do you think of the ride so far?”
He was answered with a chorus that ranged from “Can we do that again?” to shocked “whoa’s”
The teacher in him decided it was time for a lesson. “Actually nearly all of Earth’s spacecraft are just like this one. In that invasion during 1996, there were a lot of saucers captured. Wanting people to forget just how close we came to losing that one, they did a little bodywork and slapped on some paint. Suddenly The Space Age was finally really here.”
“The only difference is the old girl here was the first after being shot down over Roswell. She wasn’t the only one either. I can’t blame the Gray’s too much about being upset at us, but Ollie tells me they were just looking for an excuse to invade us anyways. Isn’t that right, Ollie?”
For an answer, the Grey rolled their craft as he took them down in a steep dive. “That’s correct Alan. The universe is a big place and there are other life bearing worlds. However there are life bearing worlds and then there’s the Earth. Because of Earth’s unique circumstances, such as your large single moon that vigorously stirred the primordal soup when this planet was young, you have an unusually healthy biological diversity. Or maybe I should say use to.”
“My people the Grays as you call them covet such worlds. They were going to invade regardless. Although my parents were scientists and not of the soldier cast they too desired this planet. As for myself, I was a child when I arrived, but grew to adulthood here. I can see the advantages of both Gray and Human cultures.”
Alan held on as Ollie hunched over his controls zooming around obstacles. It never failed to amaze him that the normally calm little guy turned into a maniac behind the controls of a vehicle.
“Mr. Glenn,” asked Malak. “If we didn’t have cheap space travel till 1996 how did the moonbase get built?”
He’d been rubbing his hands together in glee if he’d hadn’t been holding for dear life. A historian always loved to talk about their specialty. “You have two guys to thank for that, the Doctor Ferocious Foundation, and Professor Quester.”
“In the 70’s when NASA was still convinced their space shuttle was the way to go, they financed their own projects. I’m not going to talk about all the red tape they had to cut though. That is a story in and of itself. They did get their space station up and from there back to the moon. Of course when Helium 3 up there was discovered to be the perfect fuel for Fusion power, industrial operations made both those guys multi-billionaires.”
“Going back to these saucers for a moment, no one has been able to make a copy of the engines these babies use that is practical for mass production. One off and one of a kind, certainly, but nothing that would justify the cost. For that matter no one has been able to get the performance out of this buggy like Ollie can.”
“For our first couple missions, a zoomie pilot was in the bubble.” He said pointing at the raised seat Ollie was in, placing him where he could see out the Plexiglas dome.
“When they found out during one of our excursions,” Alan explained making ditto marks with his fingers, “That we could apparently fly this thing better than any zoomie they let us go alone, happy to monitor us from their comfortable seats in mission control. From then on Ollie was our pilot. He was the secret member of The Rocketeers that saved our bacon on more than one occasion.”
Ollie hung a steep left bank as they crossed over the highway leading to their destination. “I may have been of some assistance, but don’t underestimate yourself. The Rocketeers was one of a kind and I’m honored to have been associated with it.”
Deftly the Grey brought the saucer down beside the old-fashioned neon sign proclaiming Dad’s, The Best Burgers and Shakes in the Mojave!
The kids stormed down the ramp, their stomachs rumbling at the scent of the grilling food. Alan waited till they’re out of sight, and reached under one of the panels searching.
Ollie tapped him on the shoulder holding out the wad of bills that they’d always kept hidden in the Buggy for emergencies. “Looking for something?”
Sheepishly Alan held out his hand for the cash, “Yeah. You know they took my wallet.”
Activating one of the cobbled together gadgets at his belt, Ollie was covered by an image of a boy dressed in fashions thirty years old. “Come on, I hear a strawberry shake calling my name!”
Soon they were zipping back towards Area 61 at a much more leisurely pace since their pilot was busy with the largest shake Dad’s sold. Escorting them was a pair of Air Force enhanced fighter jets F-22C Predators making sure that they didn’t get lost on the way back to the stable.
Leaning over Josh quietly asked him a question that the others happily enjoying their food didn’t hear. “If it was this easy to get out of there, how come we even bothered to stop. We could’ve kept on going to Canada or any place as long as it wasn’t back in that hole!” He said with feeling.
Alan savored his chocolate malt before answering. “There are a number of reasons. One, we still have those implants and with those they can track or perhaps even incapacitate us if they want. Two. While I’m not shy about cutting into myself and ripping one of those things out of me, are you willing to do the same to Amanda or say Lizzie?
“We could find a doctor to take them out, but the things might be trapped too. So we’re putting not only our lives, but someone else’s at risk. Three. Ollie is driving and this buggy has sentimental value to him. Before you ask, he has his own reasons for hiding out at Area 61. If you want to know, you have to ask him. I’ve tried for years to convince him to leave, but if you can do better be my guest.”
Pointing up out of the dome at the two jets on each side of them he counted, “Four. Those guys are out of Edwards Air Force Base. Trying to skedaddle out of here is going to cause these fellas to try to stop us. I don’t have a beef with them. It’s the ones giving the orders, I have a problem with and that’s important because we might have to knock them out of the sky to do it. I don’t want to be responsible for some family receiving a visit from a public affairs officer offering condolences.”
“Five. I made a point of turning this into a kind of impromptu field trip. With luck they’ll see this little trip as more of my maverick personality at work, and think I’m more or less are doing what they want me too. We’re showed our disrespect for authority, but now we’re on our way back just like good little boys and girls.”
“When we do make our break for it, they’ll think it is just another show of disrespect. With luck, before they figure out it’s something else it’ll be too late.” Holding up his malt Alan smacked his lips. “No one does these like Dad’s. One day the franchises will shut him down, so this trip was well worth it.”
The teenager shrugged unable to deny that. Leaning back in his own seat he washed down some more fries. The food was good.
Ollie however had been listening and was still curious. Sending to him alone, “Were those your only reasons Alan? After all I could have dropped you all off and made it look as if the ‘Rocket’ had returned to Area 61 empty.”
Letting the dregs melt in his mouth Alan sent back privately to his friend. “Yes all of those reasons are valid. Yeah, you can drop us off, but that don’t change the problem with the implants. I don’t doubt for a moment that they are much nastier propositions than the one I dug out of myself thirty years ago.”
“Besides I’m still hoping I can talk you into leaving this joint. I know your reasons, and I do respect them. It’s just that you are perhaps the only Gray in the universe that really understands us. I’m not so much a fool as to think that one little planetoid sized spaceship was the only one your people had. They are going to come back, and next time they won’t be so careless with their computer and data security! If anyone has any chance at all of stopping the next invasion before it happens, it‘s you.”
Ollie’s mental voice was just a little disproving. This was an old issue between them. “Alan you know my reasons. The circumstances behind them hasn‘t changed. I’m staying where I am.”
The human replied, “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck figuring a way past the vault security?”
Bringing the ‘Rocket’ into a hover, Ollie sat the ship down on the landing pad blinking its approach lights waiting their return. “No more than you have. I’m afraid getting into the vaults is a good deal harder than knowing the prime numbers.”
A slight jerk was the only indication of when the pad elevator started moving the silver and red racing striped saucer back to its underground hanger.
Alan took a deep breath before continuing. “Ollie believe or not, getting in isn’t the deal breaker. The difficult part is getting back out. Even if we did dodge security, and got back to the hanger bay, this buggy isn’t set up for cargo. We couldn’t get everything out. If we try and make any modifications so we could, the boys in blue would be sure to notice.”
“The only other way out is the freight elevator and that would mean fighting our way out regardless if we do it by land or air. Our best chance is by using trickery, but the whole place is tightly monitored except for a few pigeonholes like the clubhouse and your workshop. That makes the usual illusionist methods a real bitch.” The ex-hero explained.
The Grey with sad humor pointed out, “So you have thought about my problem.”
Alan sent the warmth he felt for his friend. “Well, maybe a little.”
A solid bump signaled their elevator ride was over. Alan herded everyone out, their arms still full of bags and cups. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Ollie step into the small transporter and disappear. My, wouldn’t the brass love to know that they had one of the sci-fi gadgets all along but didn’t even know it.
Picking up the big cardboard cup-holder and the bulging sack of burgers and fries, he went out to face the music. He was pretty sure he’d timed this excursion about right, but the next couple days would tell.
“All right I’ve got a vanilla, a strawberry and two chocolate shakes.” He announced jauntily strolling down the ramp as the quartet of grim faced zoomie cops advanced towards him.
To be continued.
The adventure continues!
Chapter 24
Outside of Area 61
The camouflaged figure recorded precisely when and where she first saw the silvery craft zoom upwards and head towards civilization. Moving rapidly, and nearly invisible in her reactive camouflage, she had almost reached her objective when the shining craft returned, with friends. The two military jets were making very sure the saucer went back home. Dialing up the magnification on her goggles, she could clearly see the red racing striped framed name on the side, Rocket!
Val, you minx! She didn’t doubt for an instant that her partner had arranged this little air show just for her. Smothering a laugh she had no time for, she carefully watched the escorting jets, their job done, peel off for home. Maggie marked exactly the elevator’s location and took note of the sensors and security. It had taken her almost a week to work her way through the web of security. However, the only entrances were heavily guarded not just by electronics, but by highly competent soldiers and dogs. It was a near perfect example of layered security.
None of that was insurmountable, but along with the constant patrols over the area, it was taking a toll on her. The good news was this saucer silo’s security looked to be more automated than the other entrances, all the better for her to work her special talents upon it.
She backed off, finding a more or less comfortable place to wait for darkness to fall. Before closely checking out this gift of knowledge from her lover; she wanted every possible advantage. Configuring a sensor to alert her if trouble approached, she closed her eyes. Getting inside was just the beginning. The real task was still unknown, hidden behind all of this paranoid security.
She would get through all of this, and she would find Val. But my that girl had some ‘esplaning to do!
Area 61
Dr. Courtney Hathaway crossed her arms across her chest as she watched Alan Glenn sitting cross-legged in the detention cell. She’d been showering, following an exhausting dance class. Courtney knew she was in good condition, her mutation assured that, but keeping up with six enhanced children was a superhuman job. No, she corrected herself, seven. Alan Glenn definitely had to be added to that number.
His working with them had yielded wonderful results. The candidates were ahead of schedule, and would soon begin teamwork exercises. He had adjusted to the self-paced scholastic program, and performed the minor miracle of keeping his students interested and involved in their classes.
Yet here he sat, responsible for a major security breach. He actually had the gall to claim it as an unscheduled field trip due to a gastronomical emergency. She knew that the children’s diet was being carefully moderated to meet their special needs. Trying to make some of that look and taste appetizing was a challenge that even the best chefs couldn’t overcome.
Which was why she ate from the officer’s cafeteria, but stubbornly Alan Glenn insisted on sharing the kids’ facility. A fact that made security happier, but better food was one of the things they’d hoped to insure his cooperation.
He’d ignored her attempts to flirt with him or manipulate his masculine ego. She was starting to wonder if he was gay despite his stereotypical macho guy front. The whole racing bad boy attitude didn’t match up with his actions.
All the children went to him. Even the girls for problems that were well out of the province for any male. Courtney had to admit that she’d made an enormous mistake from the very first day dealing with this man. Even worse, she suspected that somehow he’d taught the children to resist her mental control.
In her opinion, despite that, they were still viable subjects for the program. She wished she could omit the ‘so far,’ but she couldn’t. For one of the few times since her powers had developed she was feeling helpless and unsure of what to do. Even those times she’d run into those who she couldn’t mentally read, she could control everyone else around them, giving her a measure of second handed domination.
Courtney stiffened as Dr. McClellan came up beside her. She had an intense dislike of failing and a part of her knew she was going to hear about her shortcomings.
Instead, the Doctor just stood there a moment watching Alan Glenn with her before speaking. “When he was young and still had his powers, he used to have something he called slow time. To everyone else he may have been moving in a blur, but not to him. He was moving normally and it was us who’d slowed.”
“Once he spent almost two days in detention in slow time. The next time we tried to detain him; he was out almost before the guards could turn around to leave. During those two days, he had spent almost a month and half of subjective time studying how to get out. Then he waited for the next time to escape.”
Chuckling he shook his balding head. “It was a complete waste of time to give him a timed test. Most people see him flashing by and think that was his power. Ridiculous! It was always because he had all the time in the world. His thought processes was also affected by his ability, giving him the precious gift of time.”
“I grew to love chess as a child, but as I aged it became harder and then almost impossible to find a stimulating opponent. Alan Glenn was one of the few who could give me such a game. Yes, his ability gave him all the time needed to consider his moves, but like them all, he was also extremely intelligent. Of all of The Rocketeers, he was my favorite.”
“His speed was so great that he could nearly break the sound barrier. He described the experience to me as trying to run upstream against a swift flowing current. The very air resisted every movement with just one careless move being all it took to sweep you off your feet.”
Lost in his memories, the old scientist sadly shook his head. “Not even he could outrun a nuclear shockwave. He was still suffering from residual radiation poisoning from the Z-Ray 9. They all were also recovering from injuries received in their fight with Leviathan. That poor, tragic creature was heading right for the center of one the largest cities in the United States.”
“John, General Lafitte, was in a state of extreme agitation. The Rocketeers had experienced setbacks before but never had they been soundly beaten like they were by that creature. Leviathan, the navy project Bruce Flag had been working on, must have been using much the same principles as my Z-Ray. He defeated six of the most powerful supra-humans on record, the incredible power of that creature!”
The scientist sighed. “I can’t imagine the awful price Dr. Flag has paid for that power, forced to wander the world searching for a cure, while hunted like some monster from the cinemas. An important safety tip Ms. Hathaway. If you’re going to experiment on yourself, make absolutely certain that it’s going to work the first time!”
“But I deviate from my point. John, all of us, was well aware that we’d been sending children out into harm’s way. It was a matter of the good of the many versus the needs of a few. Then suddenly not only were they injured and hurt, but the safety of millions in Chicago was at stake.”
He believed we simply didn’t have a choice, but to use the Z-Ray 9. I disagreed. Extensive changes had been made to the device in hopes to expand the age range of the subject it could safely be used upon. Our experience had shown us that the use of the Z-Ray on subjects more than two years after their mutation manifesting was risky in the extreme. However, it had never been tested, and I feared what might happen. To my sorrow, I was correct.
Young Joyce Sturm, Sensation, died after her exposure, and Gus, Alan’s brother, suffered a change much like Dr. Flag’s. He became a ravaging creature of pure energy in his rage over her death. When Gus exploded, the injuries put Alan into a coma that even with his phenomenal healing lasted almost a month.
When he woke, he wasn’t the same youngster. He no longer had his extraordinary abilities, and the only family he’d ever known was dead. Alan turned bitter and cynical. His one remaining friend, Jeff Fuller, Fortune, was being kept from him by bureaucrats who were terrified he would tell Alan his brother was still alive. They feared what he might do.
The Government had a huge investment in those six youngsters. When four of them died, it was as if it had lost an aircraft carrier or an entire Air Force base full of bombers. It was pandemonium here as the witch-hunt descended upon us. Everyone who survived was under suspicion, including myself. All we could do was watch as Alan was quite literally thrown out. I suspect by those same bureaucrats who were relieved he was harmless and wanted to cover-up all signs of their failure.
“He certainly got his revenge when he ran away from the family that was assigned to watch him. They were paranoid he was going to start revealing all the secrets he learned in his time here. For 14 years, he avoided every single government agency looking for him. When he did return, it was as their greatest nightmare testifying to a Senate investigation committee.
“He planned that investigation just like he did that day long ago when he broke out of there. Alan set the stage for those politicians to see great advantage for themselves by dredging up events a decade and half old. He did his very best to get me put on trial for not only the murder of Joyce Sturm but for crimes against humanity!”
“I see him there, and I know that somehow he’s back in slow time once more, working on his next move. Every means of testing I have tells me he’s nothing special. Is it because, having done it before and knowing it’s possible, that he’d reached it with training and meditation? If so he’s proved that it is indeed the man who makes the hero and not the powers he possesses.”
Courtney nodded, but could understand Alan Glenn’s stand. However without it being said, she knew Dr. Albert McClellan had walked free of all charges because he had power. Not like that being studied here at Area 61, but that which put him above the common man or even the most powerful mutant. That was what she so badly wanted.
Although the ex-teenage hero may have made her doubt herself, she knew the only real protection in the world was to be at the top. Even if she had to climb over others to get there and kick any that tried to stop her. If putting these kids in harm’s way, was what it took, then she was prepared to pay the price.
Chapter Twenty-Five
September 16, 2008
ETWF: minus 17 Days
Area 61
Alan opened his eyes as the guards opened his cell. Pretending his legs had gone to sleep he stumbled as he stood. It fit the persona of the tough guy who wasn’t as young as he used to be after spending a night in the hoosegow.
He was escorted from the detention block and they let him go on his way. Well, Laramie had dressed him down good yesterday, and it didn’t look as if anyone else wanted a turn.
Still, it’d been worth it. He’d found out that the buggy was still in good shape as well as that Ollie hadn’t let his pilot’s skills rust too badly. Not only that, but if who he thought was out there in the desert watching, he’d shown her a way in that wasn’t as obvious as the well guarded elevator shafts. Besides, Dad’s burgers really hit the spot after Doc’s special slop.
Stretching, he started whistling as he headed towards the gym. Wondering if any of those guys had ever seen the Great Escape, maybe he should scrounge up a ball and glove. Alan saw he still had enough time for his morning workout and headed to the gym.
Changing into his Gi, he had to admire the laundry service around here. Everything was always fresh and no doubt newly bugged with surveillance crap. It was surprising he’d hadn’t stopped up his toilet considering how much of that stuff he’d flushed down it. Not that he worried about it too much because Ollie and Big Mac were well able to protect the clubhouse's location as well as their other secrets.
He was taken aback to find someone else in the gym at this hour. The zoomies had their own facilities topside, and everyone else was just getting up. That suited him fine. It was nice having the place to himself.
Maxi-Badd was there with his keepers. The big con was working out using the bags. Alan seemed to remember the big guy boxed some before mutating. He had used boxing moves in their battles so he guessed it made sense. Watching him move, Alan could see just how much power he was using. It was a good thing everything in this gym was built to take just about anything anyone could dish out.
The two zoomies stiffened as he came in but he could tell one of them had been heckling Maxi. Most of the guards down here were fairly professional, but every now and then, you ran across someone who wasn’t. Alan wondered if it was by chance or just another one of Doc’s tests. If so, it was important to bear in mind that Maxi might be another victim of Doc’s too.
“Hey Maxi, What’s up?” Alan greeted.
Finishing the series of blows before he looked over, the big guy gave a crooked grin. “They told me I could come here because no one else was about. Ya’ going to make me leave?” he said, just confrontational enough to make his keepers check for their remotes to his implants.
Alan kept an eye on bad cop and said, “Nope. Work out to your heart’s contentment. I was a bad boy yesterday, and someone is letting me know it. I would just as soon not give them the pleasure if you know what I mean. I’m just going to do a little Tai Chi over in the corner to warm up this morning.”
The big con grunted, throwing a blow that made the steel cables holding the bag hum like violin string. “I can dig that, Squirt.” Inclining his head upwards, he said. “With that low gravity crap on the moon, that was about all the exercising ya’ could do unless strapped down on one of the weight machines. Mind if join you?”
Alan raised a brow, but nodded. “No problem.”
There was a couple of rough spots in Maxi’s routine because the low gravity he’d been in for so long had let him develop some bad habits. To Alan’s surprise, he just nodded and accepted the gentle correction. All in all, it was a pleasant session.
Paying attention to the bad cop, Alan wasn’t too happy at his attitude. He sent in a little note to the man's supervisor about how ill advised it was to heckle someone like Maxi. He might have mellowed out some, but the man had a violent past. You just didn’t play with fire with someone like him.
The rest of the day went pretty well too. Everyone was getting used to the routine and settling down. The self-paced academic classes was challenging because of all the different grade levels. Lizzie was in the first, while Josh was in eleventh as a junior. In effect, he was tutoring them all with the computers for help rather than the other way around.
At least he only had the history and world geography side of the house, leaving Dr. Hathaway with the math and English. As much as he didn’t like her or her methods, he had to admit she was competent and intelligent. Perhaps, if she could learn a little compassion, and put aside her selfishness, she could reclaim her humanity. As far as he was concerned, for the moment she was the enemy besides being a gold plated witch.
His powers 101 class went smoothly. It might have been his imagination but Maxi and his clones seemed less on edge. If getting a good workout in the morning helped, Alan was all for it happening every morning. Malak and Lizzie were getting good enough with their flying thing that they needed more space to practice. For that matter, Amanda and Billy could use the extra room too. Her weather powers needed some elbowroom to really stretch themselves, and it would do a world of good for Billy too. Just another detail for him to attend to.
Considering the way the day had begun, Alan was quite pleased. On another note, Saul and his clones were sinking into their “Oh Gawd, I’m going to die” post-exercise depression. One by one the kid’s doubles were led away to be examined by Doc.
As much as Saul was anything but his friend, Alan wished he could’ve warned him about Laramie and his promises. He was certain that the Air Force officer had no intentions at all of releasing the convict, which meant all the mental pain and anguish all this was putting Saul through was for nothing.
Alan was certain that by anyone’s standards, Saul Simpson was about as insane as they came. You would think that with his vulnerability to the mental powers stuff, a practitioner could’ve cured him. Thing was, while you could make him dance a waltz, you couldn’t get him to like it. His healing talent just treated the imposed commands as another injury and made the altered neural pathways go away.
The old murderer was going to be a problem for someone 'til the day he died and that could be a very long time given his mutation. The ACLU had declared most of the ways that would kill Maxi-Badd were cruel and inhumane. Alan believed that as dangerous as Saul was it was inhumane to keep him alive when it’d been proven he was ill and that there wasn’t a cure. For that matter, Alan wondered if even the cortex bomb Saul had between his ears would permanently put him down. After all, back in the bad old days Gus, Capt. Blazzar, had blown a hole through Max’s chest big enough you could read the morning paper though it, but Maxi-Badd had regenerated even from that.
Just then a nagging feeling that’d been with Alan the last few hours started itching with a vengeance. Jeff, Fortune, used to call it ‘That Bad Moon Arising’ feeling. Not letting his alarm show, he looked about for the cause of the impeding trouble even as it built up to explosive intensity.
Saul was still looking mournful as a pair of Zoomie cops were leading Lizzie’s clone off to the lab while Dr. Hathaway was looking on. Opening his senses Alan searched for the oncoming train wreck he knew was moments away. When his Luck was wailing this loud just about all anyone could do was duck and cover.
As soon as he heard the man speak, Alan recognized the guard from earlier as the same one from this morning that was harassing Maxi-Badd.
“Come on Maxi-Pad. It’s time for your appointment with your gynecologist and the stirrups,” jeered the cop.
Alan hyped senses could smell how afraid the Maxi-Lizzie clone was of her impeding derezzing. Fear and anger overwhelmed her as she spun around. With a powerful shove, she sent the smart mouthed guard flying across the gym like rock from a slingshot. With unintended accuracy the pin wheeling cop struck Hathaway, sending both sprawling as if struck by a truck.
A split-second stood still as everyone was in shock by what happened. In a fury, time cut loose as Maxi-Lizzie whipped about and flew like a bullet for the exit. Instantly, Saul Simpson laced his hands above his head as he dropped to his knees even as both of his handlers grabbed frantically for their cortex bomb remotes.
“Ollie!” Alan sent to his friend. “One of Maxi-Badd’s clones has blown a fuse and ran for it. A damn smart-ass said the wrong thing at the wrong time. She’s just upset, so far.”
The little alien gray responded, “I understand Alan, and I see that it is a clone of Lizzie. If she causes too much damage before she is restrained, not only will Big Mac surveillance of the complex be hindered, my security could be at stake from the repair crews. Additionally, if I mentally interfere, Dr. Hathaway could find traces of my efforts, which could cause her to ask unwanted questions.”
“Oh Great Ollie! Just what I needed to hear!” Alan replied. Jeff had a saying for this too. “When it rains, it pours, and pours till you need a boat.”
Josh without even thinking faded out of sight before that Air-dale cop and Hathaway had even rolled to a stop, still bouncing on the gym floor. When in a rush of air Lizzie’s clone took off, he sprinted off after her.
He wasn’t even close to being as fast as Mr. Glenn used to be, but being able to give the fastest runners in the world a real work out was good enough for him. In front of them, right out of Star Wars, the big doors at the gym’s entrance slammed shut!
The slim six-year-old figure he was chasing covered her head with her arms and rammed it. Josh dodged a flying piece of debris as the heavy metal exploded outward. Squinting past a hand thrown up to protect his eyes, he saw she had punched a hole clean though the blast doors. He glimpsed her disappearing into the hallway beyond.
Josh took a running leap through the ragged dimpled hole she’d punched though the door. Okay, maybe all that dancing stuff does have a purpose, he thought, as he landed lightly on his feet. Another thunderous crash let him know which way to go, as he ran as fast as he could.
With a bit more confidence, he took the next sundered doorway like a hurdler. The pair of guards lying on the other side almost tripped him up, but after a not so graceful stumble, he kept on running. A hurried glance behind him assured him that the Air-dales were still alive, just concussed by being too close to the sundered doorway. Couldn’t happen to a nicer group of guys.
Now that he’d a little time to think, he realized he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he caught up with her. Josh had been practicing with doing other things with his powers. Maybe he could just slow her up a little.
He got his chance as he cleared the last corner. Another pair of Air-dales were having their weapons turned into pretzels. Oh, Crap! It didn’t take a genius to figure out the boys in blue were next in line. Concentrating, he sent at the pint-sized hurricane, ‘See nothing!’
Josh figured he must’ve faded back into sight as the two guys stared at him. That was fine as long as she couldn’t see to hurt them. Trying to keep her blind, he waved at them to run. Part of him was amazed when they did just that. Getting over the fact, that those two represented The Man who’d thrown him into detention so many times, was a little hard.
However now it was just him and a supra-powered kid with the mind of a mass murderer. Josh was beginning to regret bullying Bill into telling him the whole story. He couldn’t help but breathe a little easier as the kid with Saul Simpson sister’s face sat down burying her face in her arms. The mixture of tortured emotions as the kid tried not to cry wasn’t something he’d soon forget.
He almost didn’t, but Josh felt he had to say something. “Hey, you calmed down?”
Lizzie-clone looked blindly around. She had a small cut on her forehead from something that somehow had gotten though that force screen of hers. “Ya’ that Josh kid with the invisa-thing right? Thought it might be ya‘.”
Josh hesitated. He’d always known that little Lizzie was no one you wanted mad at you. All the blast doors torn apart behind them made it damn clear he wouldn’t last a half second if she got her hands on him. If she went for the sound of his voice, she might just be able to do that, but something told him her temper tantrum was over.
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry about turning the lights out, but I couldn’t let you hurt those guys. I don’t much care for them either, but messing them up wouldn’t help anyone,” Josh told her.
The small forlorn figure just hung her head low. “You’re right I guess. I shouldna’ let that ass-wipe get ta’ me like that, but he doesn’t know how it feels! All my life the only defense I’ve ever had was being bigger and nastier than anyone else. I shoulda’ never let them talk me into using my Mojo again.”
“Every time I never know if I’m going ta wake up as the clone. The one who’s going ta die.” Nearly overwhelmed with emotion again, she waved her small hands at herself. “This sucks! I’m a grown man, not a schoolgirl! It ain’t right. I can’t tell ya’ how it feels, but I guess I don’t have to worry about it for long.” She gave a short bitter laugh.
Josh heard people coming up behind him. Stealing a peek, he saw a wobbly Ms. Hathaway and bunch of Air-dales. “They’re coming to get you. You’re not going to try anything are you?”
The small girl cursed, “Crap. No, I can feel that mind frakker in my head, so I don’t have a choice.” She stood up. “Ya’ know, you’re a good kid. Don’t let your Mojo frakk up your brains like I did.”
Silently they waited for the guards to reach them, unaware of a blue blur keeping watch on them both. With the pride of a teacher for a student who’d passed the hardest test of all, the blur raced off to sneak back in with the others.
Alan made it with plenty of time to spare. Thanks to the dynamic duo of Ollie and Big Mac, he was safe from the surveillance picking up his brief absence and everyone else was too shocked to really notice. He did make sure, that for once, the boys in blue caught the true villain of this piece on tape.
Josh came back under escort, but kept his small bit of heroism to himself. After a break, it was time for study hall for them to catch up on their homework since Doc had not any testing to do on them. Then came their dance classes. Alan did have to smile at Lizzie’s enthusiasm as she happily bounced around in her tutu. The other girls helped her as they worked on their own stuff while a still shaken Dr. Hathaway taught the ballroom style dance class.
Alan helped with the boys, but since Billy and Josh was working with the girls, it was mostly Malik. The Powers 101 class had helped a lot, helping the athlete work out his psychical energies, but he still needed to be challenged.
Seeing how Malik needed a little extra help building his agility, he’d set up the gymnastic rings. It’d been a long time since Alan had worked out on them, but he’d sneaked some time out to practice a little before hand. Starting a beginner’s routine, he demonstrated what the rings were all about.
The sheer strength needed for maneuvers like the iron cross was enough to get Malik interested and working out on them. He even captured everyone else’s attention for a while. Then clean up and dinner was next on the schedule.
The kids then had some free time before bed if they’d already done their homework. Tonight though, Alan had something else in mind for himself rather than watch the bland TV that’d been edited by the Air Force. He’d made up his mind about Billy’s problem while meditating in detention the night before.
The youngster was still really out sorts regarding his gender identity. Alan had seen Dr. Hathaway not so gently pushing Billy into experimenting in ways that was most inappropriate for the kid’s age.
Alan was really needing time to be her real self too, and this made it a good time to have some girl talk with Billy. With that in mind, he’d slipped the teenager a note; they were going to the clubhouse tonight. A short nap had made up for some of the sleep he would be missing.
Quietly he woke Billy. Then as the boy was coming awake Alan pulled out a pair of girl’s uniforms and under things for the two of them from Billy‘s locker. The sizes were a little small for him but within limits. Picking up the shoes, he passed them to Billy who was more or less awake now.
Looking at the Mary Janes in his hands, Billy whispered, “What are you doing and where is everyone else?”
Smiling to reassure the sleepy teen, Alan said, “We have a mission just for the two of us tonight. Ollie might come by later, but there’s a job only the two of us can do.”
The boy’s eyes got round as he tried to match the clothing his teacher held with the idea of a secret mission. Despite whatever doubts he had, when Alan lead the way to the clandestine entrance to the clubhouse, he followed.
Alan putting down his burden of clothes mentally asked his friend, “Ollie are you in your lab?”
The little alien answered him immediately, “Yes Alan I am. Do you require assistance?”
The old hero sent back, “Yes Ollie, I do. Could you and Big Mac give us some privacy in the clubhouse? I would ask him, but Billy doesn’t know about him yet and I don’t think it’s time yet he finds out.”
Alan heard the irony in Ollie’s mental voice. “Not to mention Big Mac doesn’t know about you either. It is all right. I understand how hard this is for you, but you must promise me something Alan.”
“And what would that be Ollie?” he asked back.
His oldest friend in the world asked, “Someday you must show me. I know that somehow you have achieved your most cherished desire. You are not fighting yourself anymore. No more is your heart in conflict with mind, body and soul. I understand about secrets, but someday I want to share your joy of being complete. Promise?”
Alan replied with his heart in his throat, “If things are unraveling the way I think they are, it won’t be a secret for much longer anyways. But if keeping it for a little longer can give us any kind of advantage, I’ll hold onto it for a while longer. You’ll be the first to see. I promise.”
Ollie said, “Big Mac has turned off his sensors in the clubhouse, and I will remain in my lab if you need me.”
Turning around, Alan saw Billy looking at him questioningly. “I was asking Ollie to give us some privacy while we do a dress rehearsal. You take your half of these behind the curtain over there and get changed while I’ll change over here behind this one,” he said, pointing to the makeshift changing areas he’d set up earlier.
The boy looked at the schoolgirl outfits that, no matter how you looked at it, wouldn’t fit his teacher. “Rehearsal for what?” he stammered out.
Picking up one of the dresses and sorting though the pile for a bra and panties, Alan answered, “A very important mission. Perhaps the most important one of your life.”
Looking at Billy and seeing his uncertainty he asked, “Would you feel better if I went first?”
Confused the teen nodded and Alan could feel his eyes as he walked to the purloined shower curtain turned changing room. He took a deep breath and reached inside himself. Seeking for his true self he opened his heart. Radiance bloomed forth and as it faded, a joy filled her. She was herself again!
Using a touch of slow time, she changed out of her stars on a field of blue uniform this form still wore. There were still questions she wasn’t ready to answer and the ones about Dixie Belle were among them.
Slipping on the schoolgirl’s dress, she couldn’t help feeling a little naughty. Oh, the teasing Maggie would give her, if she could see her now!
The dress was a bit short on her because that witch had been pushing Billy to experiment with rather overly feminine forms. That was what had made her decide to have this talk with Billy.
The witch saw the world in terms of those she could manipulate and those who manipulated her, users and the used. That was sad, but she was trying to push Billy into doing the same using his ability to shape change as the tool.
Having a talk with a 14 year old who was transgendered about sex was uncomfortable enough without adding other stuff she just wasn’t ready for. However since it had been taken out of her hands, she would just have to do the best she could.
Moving the curtain aside, she stepped out, aware of his incredulous expression. Curtsying, she turned a near perfect ballet Pirouette. “So Billy, how does the dress fit?”
Covering her mouth in a polite laugh, she reminded him as his face turned blue, “Breathe Billy, yes it’s still me.”
The disbelieving teen choked out, “Mr. Glenn?”
Giving another graceful curtsy, she nodded. “Yes, but the real me. Like you, I was born male, but something else was trapped inside. I was lucky enough to find a way of letting the girl, the woman, I was meant to be, out,” she said, pirouetting again.
“Have you figured out our secret mission for tonight?” she asked.
She could almost see the smoke come out of his ears as he shook his head.
“We’re going to try and discover the girl inside of you. Your turn. Now go change,” she directed, pointing at the curtain.
Picking up the clothes as if they weighed tons, he went to change. Patiently she sat waiting for him to finish, but it was simple to see that after a while he was hiding.
“Oh, Billy?” she called in after him. “Come on out. You can’t hide in there forever.”
Shyly the girl inside moved the curtain aside. Unsure of herself the teen walked out, ready to bolt at a second’s notice.
The older woman smiled, trying to not scare the girl in what she knew was a very nervous situation. She gestured for her to turn around so she could see all of her. “She’s lovely. Who is she?”
Hearing Billy’s male voice coming from this young woman wasn’t a surprise. “She’s Megan Fox. Hmmm… an actress,” the girl stuttered.
Standing up she moved gracefully to the young girl, guiding her over to the mirror. “Now you’ve shown me her, why don’t you show me you?”
The model perfect face looked up at her. “I don’t understand Mr. Glenn.”
Clasping the girl’s hands, she said softly, “As males we both enjoyed looking at women that look attractive like you are now. She is a beautiful woman, but she isn’t you. You’re a teenager who is just starting to blossom into womanhood. Could you see Miss Fox chatting with Malak and Amanda at the lunch table? Where is the teen who wants to join in with her friends? Can you show me her?”
“I don’t know Mr. Glenn. All I’ve ever done before is sorta copy pictures. I’ve never tried something like that,” the uncertain teen replied.
“Billy how did you become a girl the first time?” the older woman asked.
Blushing red the girl stammered, “I was looking at these magazines … and … and all the girls were so beautiful, and the way it made me feel looking at them…, but it wasn’t enough. I had to look like one.”
The woman nodded her understanding. “Billy that feeling came from your heart. Can you reach that feeling inside of you now? You’ve come part way, and now all you have to do is reach for her.”
Still stuttering she replied, “I don’t know Mr. Glenn. It’s hard.”
Smiling her encouragement she said, “I believe you can Billy. You can do this.”
Taking a deep breath, the teen closed her eyes.
As the girl’s face began to change, the woman found it was her turn to hold her breath. A part of her had been truly concerned about what that witch Hathaway was trying to mold this youngster into. Billy was at a very impressionable age besides being a girl with something extra. She’d hoped that if she could help the girl achieve a more realistic self-image, the teen would be more immune to the witch’s manipulations.
Against all odds, she watched it happening before her eyes on the very first attempt. Sometimes she just knew when things were going to break her way, or had that proverbial bad feeling at other times when they weren’t. She was grateful for the sake of this young teenager that they had both beaten the odds this roll of the dice.
“Open your eyes honey,” she spoke softly. “You did it.”
The two of them looked at the rather cute teenager with the amazed expression revealed within the mirror.
“When it’s just us girls, please call me Val,” Valentina told Billy, hugging her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
September 17, 2008
Tonopah, NV
ETWF: Minus 15 Days
Inspector Imbert studied the information spread before him. The situation with the Air Force’s Project Chiron was stable. Alan Glenn had quietly surfaced as an instructor for the project. If the public affairs office was to be believed, teaching history, geography, and physical fitness.
The children were apparently doing well. He had, of course, found it strange that the United States military had been so forthcoming about their status. It was as if they were proclaiming 'see we have nothing to hide', when of course they did. No mention had been made about Dr. McClellan’s attachment to the project. As if one of the world’s foremost scientists being associated with the project was of no importance. So far it seemed the children were alive and well. For now, that was enough.
Margaret Carson had utterly disappeared. Her office still received correspondence from her supposedly from her hometown in North Carolina, but he knew that was nonsense. No one there had seen her, and he had not been surprised to learn her family emergency was also nonexistent. A check of her accounts revealed none of her accounts or credit cards had been touched since she lost his two agents almost two weeks ago.
Further information about Valentina Zarya Savitskaya was slowly coming in. Recalling Andrea’s latest briefing, he considered what they knew.
His assistant began, “First things first. We know now she was adopted by the Savitskiys. She was an orphan found in the aftermath of a train derailment in what is now the Caucasus country of Georgia in 1975. Reportedly, she suffered amnesia because of injuries received in the accident. Her age was estimated to be between 12 and 14 years of age. The authorities were unable to determine who she’d been with or her next of kin.
“Upon examination she was found to be unusually healthy and fit, with the exception of her injuries which healed quickly. Suspecting she might be a mutant she was placed with the Savitskiys who’d just moved to Almaty 3 because of their son Peter. “
“I still haven‘t been able to determine just how many of their 13 children were adopted. Peter the oldest and two others were definitely not adopted. How many of the other nine besides Valentina are adopted? “
“Another worrisome datum I found, after finding Peter’s identity and cross referencing it with other notable Zolotoye-Yablochko inhabitants with the known ages to the Savitskiys' children, is that the woman known as Energiya has a high probability of her being one of the children. She came to our attention during the Gray Alien Invasion. We can be reasonably certain she and Valentina isn’t the same woman since she had already moved to the US at the time of the invasion.”
Philippe looking for confirmation asked, “Did Dixie Belle make any appearances during that time?”
Andrea had answered, “Nothing documented sir, but stopping something like an alien invasion would be a little out of her league. Additionally, Energiya’s powers of flight and other powers are likely Telekinetic in nature. Neither Dixie Belle or Kali’s abilities fit the profile.”
“If you look at the summary I included, you'll see she keeps a low profile. Her only public appearances were during and just after the failed alien Gray invasion in 1996. She took out three of the alien bombardment saucers single handed, one of the very few powerful enough to do so.
Unfortunately, like Peter the Great, we have no hard data on her. Like I said before, her powers seem Telekinetic. It wouldn’t be the first time a similar talent ran in the same family, suggesting she isn’t one of the adopted ones. However, she seems to have more power but less control using her ability, unlike her brother Peter who can accurately project his power a considerable distance.
We all know how strong the alloy the Grays used for their vessels is, but credible witnesses tell of her cutting her way inside in a matter of seconds. As for how she disabled the three ships once inside, no one knows. It is of note that ZY militia forces made certain the data banks of the vessels they couldn’t recover were destroyed. After the invasion she disappeared back into obscurity, following the acceptance of an award from the UN for saving those cities.”
The inspector cleared his throat. “Yes, the infamous citizens of the world speech. I remember it. She upset a lot of UN and ULTIMATE officials with her assertions. Some of them were pressuring her to help convince Zolotoye-Yablochko to disband their mutant army and sign the ULTIMATE accords.”
“She responded that she would be willing live under the auspices of ULTIMATE’s goal of all mutants being a citizen of the world instead of any one nation when they were no longer 2nd class citizens, regarded as little more than criminals, except when some catastrophic event comes along requiring their help to save the human race.”
Andrea gave him a trying look. “Energiya then reportedly returned home to her presumably normal life. Analysts thought it was a pointed reminder that anyone attacking them would have to deal with the unknown factor of their entire civilian population being members of their militia.”
The Inspector remembered his last questions to his overworked assistant. “So this Energiya is likely a blood sister to Peter the Great. Quite the family Valentina was adopted into. Speaking of Energiya, where does our information on her abilities come from?”
Checking her notes she replied, “We have no solid information. Our agents did try to get DNA samples of all those of the Zolotoye-Yablochko delegation at the post-invasion UN ceremony, including hers. They had no success.”
“All we have is from what was observed at the ceremony, and eyewitnesses of the battles. She was seen TK’ing objects to her as well as flying while in New York. Witnesses from the three cities she saved said they saw her fly right through the bombardment-saucer's protective globe of attack craft so fast, none had time to react.”
Sitting back in the cheap hotel chair, he rested his aching back. Decisions would soon have to be made just how long he was going to keep his people out here in the desert doing nothing. Still, his instincts told him that monumental events were moving out there in the Mojave.
Thinking about Valentina and her remarkable family, his face suddenly brightened in understanding as he put the facts together. It became a frown as another thought came to him.
Was Peter the Great part of their delegation to the UN, and did Energiya name herself or was it given to her? Checking her notes, he found the answers. Bearing in mind that Peter too was the son of an illusionist, yes, he was there and in every photograph they had for her.
As for Energiya’s name, it was given by those she saved. While it is Russian for energy, it was also their name for a series of spacecraft. Watching the lone woman defending them, they said she flew up at the giant alien space vessel just like a rocket.
Between Universes
Whipping the raging torrents of energy like blazing whips, the being of pure power ruthlessly tore at the barrier imprisoning it. Particles exploded releasing even more energy. It hated the dark well with a mindless fury. Feeling the walls restraining its anger withstand against its assault, it howled splitting atom’s fire into the deluge of power.
Slowly the prison in the crevice amid realities began giving way again. Reason was lost to its wrath. It would not be denied the feast of destruction that it hungered for.
New York City
September 18, 2008
The exclusive private club in Manhattan flaunted the wealth of its members; from the rare wood paneling on its walls, to the handcrafted carpets upon its hallowed floors. Many of its members came from old money, but in this enlightened age the only requirement for membership was to possess power. Some might describe them as movers and shakers, and they were more right then they knew. It was all about influence. Their decisions affected the lives of thousands, millions of their lesser brethren.
In theory, the club allowed men of authority to relax and unwind from their stressful day. In reality, it was where many of the real decisions were made and real business was conducted. Its halls had become cliché for backroom deals. Because of that, privacy and security had become a paramount issue for the management. A detail, the group enjoying brandy and the solitude of the one of the plush private rooms, appreciated.
The three men lounged around the table that was worth the average citizen’s yearly income, as a servant passed out cigars. Of course, it was forbidden by the city’s smoking ban, but to such men mere laws were obstacles. It was only wrong to get caught.
Together they represented the majority of the permanent Directors of ULTIMATE. It had taken them many long years to rise through the bureaucracy to their present positions, but they had done whatever it took. They knew the very survival of the human race was at stake. Mankind’s question of whether there was life out there had been answered and the reply had not been friendly.
However dire a threat such invaders offered, it was the other threat that most concerned them. The one nestled under man’s very nose; Mutants. The inhuman creatures masquerading as men but more often as the hideous monsters they really were. All were an affront to all honest men and to Gawd. All deserved nothing more than to be cleansed from the gene pool before they corrupted others of the faith.
As an inside joke, they always referred to themselves by numbers, a holdover from their early days when a careless remark about their true feelings could have resulted in trouble for them and their cause. They knew their views weren’t those of the majority, but unlike their fellows, they were willing to take whatever steps necessary to save mankind, whether or not it wanted to be or not.
Number One puffed on his illegal Cuban import. “The Frenchman has stumbled onto information that links Kali and the Witch to Mutant-stan. I’m not certain of his reasoning but events are unfolding as he has surmised they would.”
Number Two opened his eyes that were closed in pleasure, exhaling the fragrant smoke. “I’ve been following that case as well. Whatever is happening at Area 61 must be nearing a critical phase. Our analysts have spotted a hurried pattern to the construction at the nearby testing range. Their security is very good and we still don‘t know why they have reactivated Project Meridian.”
Number Three’s sour expression made his thoughts clear on the subject. “It’s disgusting that the United States actually still allow the empowerment of the vile creatures. We probably have enough evidence to get this cover project of theirs, Chiron, canceled, but that still leaves that madman McClellan out there with his depraved experiments. I still think our best bet to get rid of them all is to let it blow up in their faces.”
Waving his cigar like a pointer, Number Two countered, “That would be convenient for us, but we have no guarantee that will be the outcome. Regardless of how accurate the Inspector is about their identities, we do know they are moving against Area 61 presumably to rescue those mutant brats from that mad scientist.”
“I believe the question before us is whether or not to warn the Air Force about Kali and the Witch’s impending assault. Do we hope if warned they can stop those two where we’ve failed or do we do nothing hoping their presence further worsens the situation into something more in our favor?” Number Two put to his colleagues.
Sipping the expensive brandy, Number One sighed. “We have spoken of this before and decided to let things develop on their own. What this information alters is if we can prove a link between Mutant-stan and an attack on an United States military facility we might finally push the Security Council into letting us take care of that problem once and for all.”
“I don’t think their Air Force would be any more successful than our own forces with neutralizing those two mutants. Like any group of insurgents, they depend on staying away from enemies powerful enough to defeat them, but the witches’ ability to negate their opponents’ technical advantage gives them the upper hand. There forth I vote no. Those two have been thorns in our sides for long enough. We know what they can do. I believe they have a reasonable chance of causing significant damage to Project Meridian, perhaps to the point of forcing the Wildfire Protocols.”
All three men sat back considering that scenario, a nuke going off in the United States. For practical purposes, it would be the same as any other sub-surface nuclear explosion. There had been hundreds of such explosions and no real problems had arisen from them. That was of course why Area 61 was so far off the beaten path to begin with.
Politically it was very different, and particularly so if they could prove the involvement of Mutant-stan in the disaster. Few events would guarantee the fury of the American public more, than a nuke going off on an American military base. No matter the weapon would be one of the Air Force’s and detonated by one of its own officers. Spin-doctors could handle that little detail. It would surely result in the United States declaring war on that nation of mutants and certainly prevent or at least hinder Mutant-stan’s mutual defense treaties with Kazakhstan from protecting it.
On another level, the destruction of Area 61 and the harm it would do to their rivals, the Office of Achieves and Records, OAR, would be a very desirable outcome. They all knew of the illegal United States Supra-human program, but as long as certain limits were not exceeded, it was easier to ignore it than fight it. In truth, nearly every single signatory to the ULTIMATE accords had some type of program to avoid the spirit of the intent of the treaties.
However, an unpleasant incident last year in the American city of New Riverside had thrown ULTIMATE into a public relations disaster. A high-ranking officer had succumbed to blackmailing from a major supra-human threat performing traitorous acts. Due to Lt. Colonel Benjamin Hostler’s actions, and the extreme mismanagement by the administrator of that region, ULTIMATE forces had fallen into open conflict with the local Supra-group and their allies in a knock-down no holds barred battle that the supra-villains than had taken advantage by attacking both groups.
The United States Air Force had been involved as well, as activity they suspected came from OAR, despite claims that the intervention came from other dimensional beings. It was just too much for them to believe that a powerful supra-team could appear out of nowhere without OAR having something to do with it. Not to mention Major Victory, of all people, coming out of his retirement, whom many still regarded as a living symbol of the American Ideal.
To throw a such a huge wrench into one of OAR’s major projects was very satisfying thought, as petty as it might be.
Number Two made use of the silver ashtray and said what they were all thinking. “It would be satisfying to ride to the Air Forces rescue and it would be an excellent opportunity to make sure no undesirables survived the experience. I propose we pre-position our Heavy Assault Brigade close enough to respond, perhaps using an unscheduled training exercise as their cover story. Additionally, we can send in Supra-Reaction Team One. That conceited bitch has had her comeuppance coming since long before that mess at New Riverside. With luck maybe Wildfire will get them all.”
Number Three nodded in agreement. “Perhaps we can put some pressure on the State Department about our concerns of something escaping from there, making them more likely to press that button for Wildfire. I did see a report about a flying saucer being seen in the area.”
Number One picked up his glass. “We’ll keep these plans from our dear inspector, but we will encourage him to stay in the area keeping a close eye on Area 61. As you say with a little fortune all of our problems will take of themselves and we will come out looking like the saviors.”
As one amid the bluish cloud of cigar smoke, they toasted their decision. Callously glossing over the lives of the men and women their plan would throw into harm’s way they drank secure in their own minds they were acting for the greater good of mankind.
Chapter 27
September 19, 2008
Area 61
ETWF: Minus 13 Days
Lizzie bounced on her bed. She was bored. It was Friday and they had the rest of the evening to themselves. They did have some yucky testing tomorrow with that creepy Doctor, but it was still only a half day. At least Mr. Glenn would be there. Ms. Hathaway would be too, but she was almost as scary as that Doctor.
Still, she mostly liked it here although she missed her friends back home. The older girls, Amanda and Malak, were really nice, but didn’t make up for not having anyone to play with. The boys, well, were boys. Josh and Malik were always busy watching sports or playing games on the TV.
Then there was Billy. Lizzie stopped bouncing her face screwed up thinking hard. He was closest to her age even if he was a boy. Besides that, he was nice to her in class and in the gym. Thinking really hard now, she knew from the practice they had with Mr. Simpson’s clones Billy could become almost her size. Not to mention all the funny shapes she thought giggling. Mr. Simpson’s clones looked a lot like her and were her size, but he and his clones were even scarier than that Doctor.
Jumping up off her bed, she knew the clones didn’t last long disappearing like soap bubbles after a little while, and she didn’t think any of them would want to play with her anyways. It was time to find someone who would. She ran to the room where the older girls were, but they were busy talking about boys and clothes. Stomping her foot, Lizzie skipped over to Billy’s room.
Bill stared into the mirror at the reflection within. It was her face. Ever since that night when Valentina had helped him find her, he’d been distracted to the point of being obsessed. It wasn’t him, but in a way, it was.
He was mystified by the incredible rightness about this image. Touching her face, he could see, feel, the subtle differences that gave the one he was born with an unmistakable feminine cast. She wasn’t beautiful like the women in the pictures Bill had imitated in his experimentation, but had something they somehow all lacked. His parents’ kinship was reflected back at him. Looking at this girl in the mirror was like looking straight into his own heart and seeing the true person hidden there.
Mr. Glenn, Val, had shown him how to give those features he’d always thought of as ordinary and bland, that while not classically beautiful, a fresh cute look. About the only real criticism she did give to him was about his voice.
She gave him some homework. Bill had to find songs by female artists he liked and sing along with them. He wasn’t to copy them, but to practice pitching his voice as she’d showed him. If anyone else walked in on him, he could just play it off as singing along, no big deal.
Almost as important as finding her face, was finding Val. Here was someone like her. Completely mind-blowing was that of all people in the world it was Captain Vroom. It was hard for Bill to reconcile the fit muscular Mr. Glenn with the athletically trim Val.
The ex-hero carried himself with a real tough guy attitude. At the same time, there was something about him that told you this man was good people. Bill could see all the other kids felt it too. You kinda knew he would make things right somehow. Even Josh had lightened up and started being more friendly under his tutelage.
If Mr. Glenn gave off good vibes, Val positively shone with them. Her happiness dancing out of from behind that curtain was so obvious it was like standing in the sun. Strangely, Bill could see the very things that he admired most in his teacher in this woman who was so much alive. It was as if being able to stop pretending to be Alan Glenn lifted an impossibly heavy veil from her. Now that she’d been freed, Val had almost literally danced into the air.
That rang true with what he’d felt as well when he changed his form to that of women he’d seen in photographs and TV. However, all of that paled besides finding that girl in the mirror. Val called her Billie and maybe that should be her name.
The loud knock at his door startled him and the face in the mirror snapped back to his familiar boy face. He felt such a sense of loss at something precious being taken away from her, that a lump froze in his throat from the strength of the emotion. Perhaps he’d been right about the way Val had felt, when she could stop pretending, if he was feeling like this when he had to go back to being a boy.
That thought made Bill pause despite the thunderous knocking at his door. Was he pretending to be a boy too? Was Billie who she really was?
Giving his image one last searching stare, he answered his door. Bill was a little surprised to find Lizzie there.
Looking up at him she asked, “Can you play with me?”
Really wanting to get back to his thoughts about Val and what they’d done the night before, Bill replied, “Can’t Amanda or Malak play with you? I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
Lizzie stuck out her tongue in dislike. “No. They’re talking about boys and clothes. I want to play with you.”
Remembering she could rip the door right off its hinges, Bill sighed. “Why me and not one of the others?”
Looking at him as if he’d lost his mind, she said, “They’re boys! They’re always playing games or watching TV.”
Wondering just where this was going as well as being a little freaked out because he’d just been thinking about just how much of guy he really might or might not be, he asked, “Lizzie. You do know I’m a boy, right?”
She thought about that for moment, and said, “But you’re not like them. You’re nice to me and never treat me mean. Josh or Malik would’ve told me to just go bother Amanda or Malak and shut their door. You were nice and asked me.”
Then bouncing up, hovering off the floor she said excitedly, “Besides you can be my size like I saw you do it in the gym! I know you and the big girls are older than me, but I don’t have anyone my age to play with. Please play with me.” Finished, she looked up at him with her big green eyes.
Bill blinked, trying to buy time to make his brains work. In the gym Mr. Simpson’s clone of him had shown him how to compact himself down to nearly Lizzie’s height. He still kept his secret that he could mold himself into other people’s likenesses, but sometimes he wondered why. It seemed almost everyone knew. Ollie, Mr. Glenn and let's not forget Ms Hathaway who’d put all those girl clothes in his closet.
He liked Lizzie and didn’t mind spending time with her. However, Bill really wanted to have some time to work through what he was feeling about his newest revelation. Then the thought came to him, 'why not do both at the same time?'.
Bill knew she could keep a secret because she hadn’t mentioned anything about the clubhouse or Ollie to any of the grownups. Besides, there’d been times he so wanted to join in Amanda and Malak’s little group so badly his chest hurt. Lizzie was a lot younger than he had in mind, but he was new to this girl thing. Why not start at the beginning, he reasoned.
“Okay,” he said. “But if we’re going to play I’d need to borrow something to play in. If I go down to your size, nothing of mine will fit me. How about one of your jumpers like what you’ve got on?”
Bill knew Dr. McClellan was still working on super-suits for them. He needed something that would grow or shrink with him, but so far he’d made do with a loose gi. However even that wouldn’t fit with him losing more than a foot of height and slimmer. Besides if someone did see him, if he was dressed like Lizzie and near her size, it might confuse them to who he was.
Lizzie bobbed in the air excited. “Yay! We can be twins like Malak and Malik.” With that, she zoomed off to her room even though she wasn’t supposed to fly outside of the gym. Hardly a few moments had passed before she was back with an armload of clothes.
Picking up the kid sized clothes, a part of him couldn’t believe he was dressing as a little girl. Bill almost stopped, but Lizzie standing there expectantly in front of him, made sure he’d to go though with his promise.
“I’ll meet you in your room where your toys and stuff are. It’ll take me a bit to change,” Bill told her.
Still not believing he was doing this, he waited till she’d shut the door, sighing. Turning to the mirror, he took a deep breath, and started shrinking. He knew from Dr. McClellan’s testing that he still weighed the same no matter what shape he took, he was only rearranging how he looked.
When Bill shrunk like he was doing now, he did get harder, being denser. He did get stronger kinda, but it sorta worked out about the same since he had less leverage being smaller. The same was true when he was larger. A little weaker, but being able to exert himself more efficiently made up for it.
The testing had also revealed that he was an Alpha class mutant with all his psychical and mental abilities as good as the best normal humans. That made his schoolwork a lot easier and his better memory let him copy Lizzie’s slim form. He thought about keeping his own face but decided he could change that if he needed to after he made the dash to her room.
It took less time than it used to, although compacted like he was, it seemed it was harder to sculpt his face. After dressing, Bill was Lizzie’s double. He still hesitated before the door. The fear of being seen and teased by the others was hard to overcome. Whispering a silent prayer, he opened the door.
Malak giggled at the picture of the outfit Amanda was showing her. The short skirt would make her grandmother have a heart attack. The girl was definitely developing a crush on Josh. Not that any of them had a lot of romantic choices, given there was only six of them. At least Amanda had Josh as a possible boyfriend, who was returning her interest.
The only other male near her age was Bill. Not only was he younger than she was, but Malak wasn’t sure of just exactly what her sexuality was. There were times she felt tingly all over, embarrassingly enough, in the girl’s locker room with Amanda, but could get the giggles discussing how much or little, guys were cute. Sighing inside, she guessed she was still working it all out.
Both of them had turned into their little group’s social coordinators. It sucked having to get up early tomorrow on a Saturday, but at least they had the afternoon off. The testing they went through was pretty easy but boring. Lift this, fly here, freeze this other, or electrify that.
On the other hand, they had the whole afternoon and Sunday to themselves. Okay, their Mom and Grandmother had insisted both twins attend church and that hadn’t changed. Conveniently, there was a small chapel with a friendly Air Force chaplain. Moreover, someone had to make sure little Lizzie got to Sunday school, because as powerful as that child was, she needed all the help she could get telling right from wrong.
That didn’t change the fact they had all of Saturday and Sunday afternoon free of Hathaway’s schedule. Supposedly, they all had homework assignments to work on, but none of them had been slackers before all this mutant stuff had hit them. Now all of them qualified as brainy and found the self-paced classes taught by Mr. Glenn, easy to keep up with. Needless to say, homework was also a snap.
Which all added up what to wear for tomorrow evening. The high point of their week was the mid-night Saturday meetings at The Rocketeers’ secret clubhouse. Before hand was movie night, even if the movie didn’t get watched much. It was a chance to dress in something not a uniform and to clown around having some fun.
Thing was, everything the Air Force had provided for them was a uniform even if it wasn’t because they were just like what everyone else had. It was as if everything had been ordered out of a catalog with only the sizes being different. Malak could tell Amanda wanted something to wear that would catch Josh’s eyes. While she might not be dressing to impress someone, Malak wanted to get out of these drab clothes too.
Amanda had the idea of getting dress ideas from magazines and seeing if they couldn’t modify some of their wardrobe so it didn’t look as it came from a uniform catalog. At the same time, they were keeping half an eye on Lizzie’s darting back and forth. They both giggled at the pout she put on at the door when she found both of them busy.
Lizzie skipped to Bill’s room, but soon after ran to her room and then back to his again. Amanda had nudged her, pointing out the bundle the young girl had carried. Curious, but not enough to stop what they were doing, the two teenagers gave their wardrobe a close examination. Unhappily, they decided that about the most their sewing skills could manage would be shortening their uniform skirts.
Lizzie ran to her room giggling. Then a few moments later, another Lizzie followed her, déjá vu!
Malak stopped, blinking her eyes. “Did you see that Amanda?” She turned to her friend only to see her nodding.
She considered for a second that Lizzie might be playing a joke on them, perhaps egged on by Bill whose room she’d just come from. However even if it were, they were going to have check on the little red headed powerhouse, because of all the stories of weird stuff happening down here.
The two girls sneaked over to Lizzie’s room. Hearing subdued giggling and laughs from two girls, Amanda gave her a wondering look asking wordlessly, what is going on here?
Malak pointed at her own eyes and then at the shut door. She’d learned how to use her magnetic ability like a Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine, MRI. It wasn’t quite like that supra dude out of the comic books, X-ray vision, but it came close. Inside she saw the sparkly outline that was Lizzie’s surrounding force screen, but there was another person there too!
This mystery person was the same size and shape as Lizzie, but somehow was really thick or heavy from what Malak could see. She was a little alarmed, but the two of them were just playing. Taking a second to blink the strange image away, she whispered to Amanda what she’d seen. “I saw Lizzie playing with something, someone else who was about the same size, but whoever it was seemed thicker or heavier some how,” she said, shrugging. “I’m still learning how to figure out what I’m seeing.”
Amanda got a thoughtful look, asking softly, “Or maybe just compacted?”
Malak looking over at his room, they both said at the same time, “Bill.”
They looked at each other surprised. In the dojo, they had seen him elongate and twist himself into all kinds of impossible shapes. Amanda whispered, “He’s not just a stretcher, but a shape changer to!”
Amanda stopped her as she reached for the door. Insistently she pulled Malak back to her room with the bed covered in magazines and clothes.
Though understanding her friend wanted to talk, she was still ruffled by her interruption. “What?” Malak asked, not quite understanding the look Amanda was giving her.
“You said Bill and Lizzie were just playing right? Were they doing anything wrong?” the older girl asked gently.
Malak shook her head, no. “But he was pretending he was a little girl. What if he does something to Lizzie?”
“Assuming anyone at all could get through her force screen to hurt her, I don’t think he would do anything like that,” Amanda answered, flopping down on her cluttered bed.
Not really understanding her own feelings, Malak replied, “It doesn’t seem right somehow. It has to be wrong,” she said, getting ready to go back over and confront the boy.
Amanda didn’t get up to stop her, but gave her a piercing stare, asking, “Is it him spending time with her or is it him using his powers to give her someone her age to play with? He stays to himself mostly and doesn’t hang with the boys. Okay, so he’s not into the stuff most guys like, but now we find him playing with Lizzie. So, is it wrong, or only different? Just like we‘re different.”
Malak stopped as she remembered a boy in school back in LA who’d started dressing as a girl. “You mean he’s gay, transsexual or something?”
Amanda looked upward as she considered it. “Well Bill did say something about someone had made a mistake and put a lot of girl clothes in his locker when we first got here. Could be they knew about him and were trying to encourage him,” she said, waving her hands at the unseen monitors they knew were watching them all the time.
Continuing Amanda said, “In any case, Lizzie is fine and having fun it sounded like to me. It does occur to me that we might need to see what clothes he has. If they wanted him to experiment they might’ve given him a, hmmm…, wider selection,” she said, picking up one of the too long plain skirts with distaste.”
The young teen sighed. Although it still bothered her in a way she really couldn‘t explain, her friend was right. Bill wasn’t hurting anyone, or anything, and if there was ever a little girl on the planet that didn’t have to worry about that kind of trouble it was Lizzie. Malak wasn’t sure of her own sexuality yet so who was she to start casting stones?
Let the two have a good time and who knows, maybe the girls would end up outnumbering the boys down here after all. Besides, if he did have a better wardrobe than they, he was about to learn of the ancient and revered tradition of girls borrowing each other’s threads!
To be continued.
Capt Vroom's adventures continue!
Chapter 28
September 20, 2008
Area 61
ETWF: Minus 12 Days
General Robert Laramie stood authoritatively as he surveyed the immense Z-Ray 13 emitter. Gruffly, he thought they should call the damn thing what it looks like, a damn cannon from hell. The latest subject was strapped down and the white suited techs were swarming about attaching the small forest of telemetry leads.
Safely behind a foot of lead infused transparent PlasSteel, he could still feel the bell shaped matrix generator and its magnetic containment fields revving up to operating speeds. Despite having to run these experiments late at night because of security concerns, as well as Project Looking Glass’s growing power requirements, not a single soul yawned. Pure fear could do that. They all knew just how dangerous this thing was. Every time this thing was fired up, they were unleashing the fires of the gods. Some said they were opening Pandora’s Box, while others claimed they were like Prometheus.
The General knew all of them were wrong. Dr. McClellan had built upon the Nazi ’Die Glocke’ Project and their experiments with Xerum 525. As a student of history, he knew the legacy of blood begun by the Nazi’s experiments continue to the present day in the form of Project Meridian. He was well aware of just how many had died in the nearly sixty years since this hellish device's invention.
No, this wasn’t any heroic Greek tale of stealing fire or a foolish woman opening a box. It was much darker than that. Blood and black, evil, sinister deeds were what that thing represented. For every shining success to walk like a god from that chamber, too many others had died horrible, unspeakable deaths warped beyond any recognition of ever having been human. That is, the ones that simply weren’t turned into black radioactive slime.
Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Dr. McClellan had vastly improved the odds of leaving that amphitheater alive, but the deficit in lives accrued since the dark years of WWII would forever stain the ledger in red.
Yet here he was ready, like an ancient Carthaginian, to throw more youngsters into the fires of Ba`al Hammon altars, paying for the gods’ dark favor in flesh and blood. There simply wasn’t a choice. This facility represented an insurance policy not only for the United States, but for the entire world. In its depths were stored the knowledge and weapons that he hoped and prayed would never be needed. However, the universe had proved itself to have as vicious a food chain as any on Earth.
During the Alien Gray Invasion in 1996, it’d been a recovered alien spacecraft launched from here that’d delivered the computer virus that disabled the invasion fleet‘s computers. That’d given the Earth the chance to fight back. For that matter many of the other weapons that’d helped deliver victory had their start right here in Area 61’s labs. Even the aging heroes of the disbanded Eagle Squadron who’d helped defend the planet had their origins in this very room.
No, this facility had to be protected. That was not even considering the untold disaster of the transformed Blazzar running amuck. The thought of what a living atomic weapon could do in a mad rampage upon the nation he loved so made his blood run cold.
Down below, the yellow warning lights helped hasten the technicians’ evacuation from the amphitheater. That left the lone figure strapped down spread eagle before the massive bore of the magnetic coils designed to focus the emissions of the ‘Die Glocke’ onto one frail child.
Robert Laramie closed his eyes, haunted by a memory of another little girl, Joyce Sturm. She’d only been 12 when she died down there.
Opening his eyes, he saw Dr. McClellan at the control panel nod his readiness. Lifting the bright red flashing safety covers, together he and the Doctor put in their keys and turned them. The howling klaxons and the flashing red lights seemed appropriate for what they were about to unleash. He understood all too well the saying, “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions” as the Doctor pulled the trigger.
Wild purple lightning thundered into the chamber. Even with his goggles and the heavily polarized PlasSteel, he had to look away from the blinding arc of energies.
The second the radiation detectors gave the all clear, the medical team ran to the subject. A glance at the telemetry told the General the experiment still lived. Turning he checked the monitor revealing the room full of the casket-like energy stasis pods waiting their turn.
He’d had his doubts about this project offshoot when Dr. McClellan had first brought it to him. However, his experience had taught him to always have a backup plan. Looking over at the subject being hustled out of the chamber he could see the Saul Simpson clone of Elizabeth Tyree still breathed. Only time would tell if the combination of stasis pods and exposure to the Z-ray would give her true life or she would simply derezz.
Passing her gurney, another team of techs were rushing to get the occupant of the next pod in place, only twenty-nine to go.
South Asia, Kazakhstan
Zolotoye-Yablochko Ministry of Defense
Pyotr Savitskiy ran his hands through his short military crew cut. The current situation between Georgia and the Russian Federation had everyone on edge. No one wanted to see the Russian Bear become hungry and start gobbling up its neighbors again. The President had asked the Ministry what their military options were to help discourage them.
With typical Slavic fatalism the President listened to them give what they saw as their options. Pyotr wanted to laugh. Defense Ministry? They had one so called general and twelve colonels. All chiefs and no Indians, his sister would say. Calling their little city, a nation, was really pushing believability, but even as much as it’d grown, Yablochko just couldn’t support a standing Army.
They relied on their militia and did their best to have as highly trained officers, sergeants and instructors as they could so the rank and file could be filled out by their citizens. Even then, their Police force came closest to regular soldiers. Their real muscle was their Special Forces teams, which made the best use of their strengths, the large number of mutants that lived here. Like the Cossacks of old they would harass and hinder larger forces while waiting for the chance to destroy key elements of the enemy’s support and command structure.
Everyone in this room knew that someday the mutant haters would attack them. Their city had been built years before during the Great Patriotic War as a secret factory city far from the front lines. Nestled in the mountains, their Soviet masters had taken every advantage of that and dug deep into the very rock. With the threat of Western missiles in the Cold War, every possible service had been hardened to survive the holocaust that never came.
When the breakup of the Soviet Union had left them suddenly exposed, canny politics let them slip by the tyrannical laws of ULTIMATE. It had not escaped any of them that the organization had grown increasingly hostile toward the very group it was suppose to protect and govern. With that firmly in mind, they had burrowed even more deeply into the mountains, making use of the defensive terrain.
The unique crafts and products their mutant citizens could produce gave their small nation an economy all out of proportion to its size. Peter smiled thinking of his sister’s remarks about boomtowns. Her thoughts on the subject were whispered loudly in the right ears, pushing those planning the city’s expansion to make sure their Golden Apple was also a pleasant place to live.
The President sighed as he received their recommendations that military forces not be deployed, given it would mean putting their only standing ready force, their instructors, in harm’s way. Losing even the experience of one, whom they relied on for training the rank and file of their militia, would be a heavy blow to their defenses. However, their intelligence services with its farseers, and clairvoyants could feed useful information about the Russians’ movements, that no satellite could match, to their allies.
As the meeting was breaking up, Peter sighed once more as the President’s aide passed him the note that the Commander in Chief wanted to see him. Standing he took a quick moment to straighten his uniform, holding his service cap stiffly under his arm. He stood waiting his turn for his President’s attention.
The Commander in Chief’s mostly bald gray fringe head showed his age even if his still trim body told of his ferocious self-discipline. He’d led his people for over ten years in the treacherous political terrain of post-Soviet Central Asia.
The wily politician’s eyes lit up as he approached Pyotr. Warmly the two men grasped each other. Releasing him, the older man’s face turned serious.
“Pyotr I understand your sister’s mad mission has at last landed her in trouble. I must applaud her bravery and the lives she’s saved, but it is time she came home,” the older man said gravely.
Pyotr nodded. “She’s been taken back to the American’s secret city much like this one. This might be a good thing. Many ghosts from her past are there. Mayhap she will be able to, at long last, to lay them to rest.”
A small precious moment of silence rested between them for they both had specters of their own.
Drawing himself up the older commanded, “Colonel, I think it is time you take some leave. Events in Georgia are beyond our ability to control for the near future and I would rather have you rested without any worries about proceedings in faraway lands, if and when, things do reach us. Perhaps you can find a few loyal friends to go with you. There is protection in numbers. You hear such horrible stories about what happens to tourists in America.”
Pyotr nodded understanding exactly what kind of vacation his President had in mind. Already he had a few of those loyal friends in mind to take such a trip.
Before turning away back to his entourage of aides, he said one last thing. “When you find Valentina, tell her I and her mother loves her very much, and want her to come home. We’re still waiting on grandchildren from her.”
Pyotr’s reply was lost in the roar of voices seeking the President of Zolotoye-Yablochko’s attention. “Yes Papa.”
Chapter 29
September 20, 2008
Area 61
ETWF: Minus 12 Days
Bill wearily stretched his arm the 6 feet to open the door. That morning Dr. McClellan wanted to check exactly what Bill’s level of physical fitness was. He’d been run half to death on that treadmill. Getting back to his room, all he could do was flop down on his bed in exhaustion.
He was surprised to find Amanda and Malak standing there. A little embarrassed at being caught being lazy, he hurriedly stood, wincing at his sore muscles.
“Huh, hi? What’s up?” Bill said, kicking himself for his stupid question.
The two smiled while Amanda asked, “Can we come in? We have something to ask you.”
Seeing them there smiling like a pair hunting lionesses made his stomach flip-flop. Bill wondered if they had seen him and Lizzie playing together yesterday. That stress made his poor digestive track twist up even more.
Thing was he did have a good time even if it had been a little awkward at first. He had a little sister, Stacy, who was even younger than Lizzie, but playing with her was nothing like with Lizzie. Once he got used to letting the red headed pint sized powerhouse take the lead, it had been fun. He was still the older looking out for her, but was learning from her just what girls her age did. Not the stereotype stuff, he thought they did.
Bill apprehensively nodded saying, “Um, Sure. W, w, what do you need?”
Amanda, still taking the lead, got right to it. “We saw you playing with Lizzie yesterday and we want to know if that means you still have those clothes you mentioned when we first got here?”
Shocked he’d been outed, Bill could only nod again, feeling like a bobble-headed doll.
Amanda, ignoring his reaction, smiled, continuing in for the kill. “We’ve been running around in uniforms or dingy sweats for two weeks now. Tonight is our get together and movie night, and we want to dress up some. We remembered you said something about the people here stuffing your closet full of girl-stuff, so we were wondering if you would mind if we had a look?”
Still pale and trying to remember how to breathe, Bill bobbled his head once more, pointing vaguely at his closet.
Both girls pounced at the invitation and started pulling things out, examining them. Chatting excitedly, they found some of the stuff even Bill was embarrassed about having.
Shaky from his shock, Bill felt distinctly removed from reality. He’d undergone just a few too many life-changing U-turns the past few weeks. A stray humorous thought made him wonder if he had a closet like Dr. Who from the BBC. First it was the Air Force and Ms. Hathaway, and then Mr. Glenn rummaging through it. Now, he had two girls hotter than any in his old school in it now. All the while he was trying not to stare at Malak's shapely rear, whom he admitted to himself he did have a kinda of crush on.
Just then, the girl of his dreams turned to him holding up a very short dress asking, “Bill just how did you fit into these? I know you can change shape but…” her voice trailed off as she struggle with the thought.
He could tell from her voice that she seemed to having trouble accepting he had all this stuff. Amanda, however, was far too concerned with the treasures she was finding to worry about them being his.
Making a huge effort to reconnect with the rest of the world, he said, “I have to concentrate real hard on the image, I want to become.” Feeling himself blushing bright red, he added, “It helps if I have a picture and a mirror.”
Malak with her very fair face blushed back asking, “But you really do wear these? Can you show me? I mean us?” she said, blushing even redder than he.
Amanda froze turning from his Grand Central Station like closet. Looking at both of them, she gave them a hard glare. “Hold on you two. Before I changed into a mutant, I was one of the 'popular girls',” she said, making ditto marks with her fingers.
“I was on the cheerleading squad and all the girls followed my lead. Then I mutated and I found out just what kind of torment I’d put others through. I went from the top to outsider so fast I hadn’t even recovered from it before they sent someone over to take back my cheerleading uniform.”
“No one would have anything to do with me. I found out just how loyal my so-called friends were and everyone else remembered how badly I'd treated them. There is nothing wrong with being different Bill, but I had to learn the hard way. Down here, we’re all misfits anyways so if you’re ready to share with us, fine. If not, we can wait. You’re more than welcome to dress and join us girls this evening. If the boys say anything, we can stick Lizzie on them,” she said, with a mischievous grin.
He immediately almost said no, but something in Malak’s eyes as she held up that dress made him bite it back. It reminded him of when his father had told him about the birds and the bees. Bill, as he listen to his father’s meandering speech, wondered how he’d been born at all if this was what his parents thought sex was all about. What had stayed with him though was his father saying that a man would do some of the most stupid things imaginable to catch or please a girl they liked.
Taking the dress from her and walking to his bathroom for privacy to change, Bill knew exactly what his dad had been talking about. Undressing, he had serious reservations, but a part of himself ferociously yearned to be her again. With a deep breath, he composed himself and there she was. Remembering to refer to herself as Billie, she was amazed at how quickly becoming Billie was almost as easy as relaxing into Bill.
Dressing, she made one or two alterations to herself to better fit the skimpy dress. Billie was glad that this was one of the dresses that had the underwear hung up with it. The white boys briefs wouldn’t go at all well with black, not to mention that panty line.
Not giving herself too much time to think about it, but still blushing scarlet, she opened the door. “Taa Da!” she announced nervously.
Amanda had that startled ‘deer in the headlights’ look, but it was Malak that gave Billie the giggles. She had the most dumbfounded expression. Both girls were still giving the stuff in her closet the once over, and had frozen as she had danced in.
Thinking back about her first time seeing Val, Billie did a clumsy imitation of that graceful twirl, causing her so short skirt to swirl. Realizing she was showing her lacy undies, Billie blushed even redder, stumbling to a stop, fell awkwardly onto her bed. Amanda and Malak’s frozen faces collapsed into mirth. Still giggling, she joined in, feeling as if a huge burden had lifted from her. Opening her heart, she let the laughter carry her worries away.
Josh and Malik gave each other a puzzled look hearing the riot of laughter erupting from Bill’s room. Both of them had rushed back after the morning tests, not even bothering to shower, so they could catch the beginning of the game. As intent as they were on the broadcast, the two guys couldn’t help wondering just what was happening in the younger boy’s room.
The two knew something had been going on the last two days, but wasn’t sure just what. Shrugging, they turned their attention back to the tube, but another outburst poked Malik’s curiosity so hard he couldn’t resist.
Josh grabbed his arm as he started to stand. “Don’t. Since I got my powers, I’ve learned there are some things you’ve got to leave alone. Trust me. Whatever it is they’re doing in there you don’t want to know.”
Malik hesitated, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He really wanted to know what was going on.
The older boy sighed, explaining, “They have the door shut so they wanted some privacy. I think I hear all three of them laughing so it‘s at no one’s expense. What’s more, tonight is our night to hang out and if you get caught peeking, they won’t let either one of us forget it.” Gesturing at the TV. “Besides which you’ll miss the beginning of the next inning.”
Malik sat back down. Josh had a point and despite his curiosity, he’d been waiting for this game all week. “Girls being girls, they would probably find out soon enough anyways,” he thought and went back to watching his game, studiously ignoring the commotion.
Alan shook his head with a smile upon his lips. Billie had surprised him when she had appeared at movie night en-femme. He’d been apprehensive seeing how Amanda and Malak had pushed her into the public outing. It was that old good thing, bad thing. It was good that the older girls were so supportive, but bad if it was too soon for Billie to cope.
Those fears had faded as the young transgendered girl had relaxed and had obviously enjoyed herself. Lizzie had nearly put Billie in the infirmary with her very enthusiastic approval. Good thing Billie was so resilient! Well no harm done and maintenance could fix that hole in the wall Monday.
The two boys reacted favorably despite Billie’s desertion from the ranks of masculine solidarity. Josh took it more or less in stride even though he was from a military town with conservative views. Malik, since he and his sister were from LA, seemed more tolerant and even somewhat confused. It hadn’t escaped Alan that both of the Thorpe twins were enamored over Billie’s new appearance.
True there was still the occasional jarring gesture, but Alan thought she did very well. Last week they’d learned that Billie had only a limited ability to alter such things as hair and nails. She could lengthen it just so much, and so they could do little to style her hair to look appropriate for a girl of her age.
He’d done his part to liven up the activities when he’d convinced one of the guards to sneak in an order from Dad’s drive-in. The kids had descended on the burgers and fries with gusto. Surreptitiously, he’d hidden a strawberry shake in the fridge for Ollie for later on. His friend had been wordless at the generosity of his favorite treat.
The movie had been a summer blockbuster the kids had already seen but everyone was just as happy to see it again. Afterwards, sneaking off to the clubhouse, Alan had been pleased, as he’d called the meeting to order. They’d all learned much more about their powers and each other. Next week would start teamwork exercises in the simulator and he hoped he could get Doc to okay them getting clearance to go to the Geode. They needed the extra room to practice flying and really cut loose with their powers.
Alan stifled a yawn. He’d put the kids to bed, but now it was time with for his weekly progress report with Big Mac and Ollie. It was almost a sure thing that this would be his last time here in the States. His cover had been very good, but being here in the spot light he was sure it was growing frayed. If he wanted to get Ollie and Big Mac out of this dump, it would have to be now. Thing was, even with the help he was expecting, getting those two and the kids to a place of safety was going to be a bigger trick than anything his foster-dad had performed on stage.
Ollie called to him. “Alan? Are you on your way back? There is a new development you need to be aware of.”
Closing the secret panel behind him, Alan sent back, “Hold on. I’m stepping through the door as we speak.”
Wondering what the rush was, he hurried down the short passage. Turning the corner, he stopped in his tracks. Slouched down in the clubhouse’s most comfortable chair with her dirty scuffed boots on the table was a tired looking woman. Her red curls suffered from hat-hair besides being filthy. A cluttered pile of dusty equipment was on floor next to her. Her gear showed signs of hard use as did she, with her dirty face. She was the most beautiful sight Alan had ever seen.
“Maggie!” Alan sang from his heart, running to her.
She stood, wrapping her arms around him, wincing from her hurts as he hugged her back. Pulling back from his embrace to see his face, she kissed him.
Remembering they had an audience Alan turned facing an amused Ollie.
The little Gray turned on his voder, “So is there something you would like to tell me my friend?”
Big Mac’s camera red light flickered on, “Yes, inquiring minds want to know.”
Chapter 29
September 20, 2008
Area 61
ETWF: Minus 12 Days
“So I’m waiting for you to return, Alan, and she just walks in. Somehow ignoring all the early warning sensors and traps, I have in the access way, she dumps her gear on the floor and flops down. Then she says, “I’m a friend of Alan Glenn. Could you please let him know I’m here. Then she goes to sleep!” Ollie said with his voder while waving his arms.
Maggie shook her head in amusement. She’d heard about Ollie from Alan, but hadn’t realized he was one of the aliens that’d invaded a couple of years ago. Unlike other Gray’s she’d had contact with, Ollie was very spontaneous and even had a warmness about him. The other Grays always seemed very cold and calculating to her, rarely making an individual decision. It was all part of that group mind thing.
Big Mac, the AI, added, “I was no less surprised. I’ve kept a careful surveillance on all the exits since Shaft 6 was closed. No offense, Ms Carson, but I find it disturbing you can, and have, walked right pass all my remotes, without my sensors picking it up. As a matter of fact, until you allowed it, my camera here did not see a thing. However I must say I am pleased to see help arrive.”
The self-aware machine paused. “Alan, I take it we can speak freely in front of her?”
Alan still had that bad little school boy grin she first remembered seeing on his face years ago when they met in DC during the Meridian Senate Investigation Hearings. “You bet Big Mac. Trust me! It’s difficult keeping secrets from her so I don’t bother. Whatever you need to say, let us have it.”
Sounding a bit rumpled, the computer continued, “Well yes. As you know, I have continued my efforts to discover what is in Shaft 6 as well as trying to piece together why Project Meridian was reactivated. Even with Ollie’s help, I have been unable to find any hard data. However upon examination of the power usage I have found some information.”
“Whatever is causing that progressive power drain was indeed moved to Shaft 6. It is drawing more and more energy. Without access to the raw data, I am handicapped in making exact calculations, but demands will outpace the available supply in approximately two weeks. I stress this is a very rough figure. The power flow has changed several times for reasons I can‘t even guess at.”
“Just as worrying is for the last week, I’ve tracked a lot of activity in the amphitheater area during the midnight hours. Persons of interest such as Doctor McClellan and General Laramie were spotted there. Power demands in that area has been most particular at those hours, with at times energy being added to the grid even though according to my records there isn’t a power generator present.”
“Again, I can only surmise that is that it the Z-ray devise you told me about. If that guess is correct, it has been activated 30 times in the last week, six times a night over five days.”
Her lover ran his hands through his short cut hair that she knew he hated. It was only one of many sacrifices he’d made to maintain his cover. It was the pain on his face that told the real story of his anguish. True, it was only a glimpse that he kept hidden behind that iron self-control of his. But Maggie was there when as Val, this person she so loved, had let it all out in great weeping sobs.
Other adults might have memories of childhood nightmares of boogiemen in the closet or under their bed. Val’s nightmares were real. That thing had directly or indirectly caused the death of the brother he worshiped as well as the friends, who were brothers and sisters of the heart. It was that damn Z-ray thing, and its masters were threatening to use it again, this time on another group of children.
A puzzled Alan said, “I knew that ’Lying-to-Me Laramie’ couldn’t be trusted and was probably planning on using the Z-ray on the kids anyways. What I don’t understand is why all these tests. From what I remember that thing is dangerous as all hell, and gave the techs the willies every time they cranked it up. It sounds like they were doing full power run-ups. They never did that before. The only tests were at low power and that was only right before they strapped us down to zap us. For all the world it sounds like the thing is actually being used, but on who? It’s not the kids, and it can’t be Max’s clones because they don’t last more than about 15 or 20 minutes before they derezz.”
Her lover sighed. “Just what we needed, another mystery. I’ve got the training schedule for next week. If I’m reading between the lines right, we’re safe this week. The teamwork exercises and simulations are pretty important if Laramie is planning to use the kids against whatever is going to happen in two weeks.
Assuming I’m right, we’re going to have to be careful during the weekend. That is the most likely time for them to try to use the Zapper on the kids. One week before hand would give them time to recover and get used to having more power. That jives with the figures you‘ve given us about that power drain, but please keep us informed of any more changes.”
“The good news is Maggie here is real good with machines, and this wouldn’t be her first time playing surgeon. That takes care of our implant worries, but getting you, Big Mac, out is something else again. Maggie?” Alan asked.
Maggie smiled. How like Alan to take everyone’s abilities into account. “Alan my brief training as a paramedic might be okay playing battlefield medic. But surgeon? If the devices aren’t too deep I can probably dig them out and of course, any of the electronics should be easy. But if there are any clockwork booby-traps, I could set them off.”
“The reason it took me three days to descend that damn launch silo was because of the mechanical traps. I wasn’t expecting that and it damn near got me killed,” she said, shaking her head. “The thing was designed by some raving paranoid maniac, but the electronics thankfully were years out of date. The real killers were the tripwires and booby-traps. The whole network is on a gantry-like arm. Initiating the launch sequence swings it up and out of the way, but when it’s locked down it's one hell of a maze to get through. If I hadn’t the mixture of talents I have, I doubt I could have made it.”
Maggie didn’t miss the look Alan and Ollie shared, but she continued. “If the implants are similarly designed, I’ll need to build something to let me examine them real carefully first. As for you, Big Mac, I’ll need to see your hardware requirements, but that shouldn’t be a problem. What is a concern is power. When we move you, you’ll be on a time limit until we can find another source. I understand simply storing your program and restarting cold can damage or alter the self-awareness of AI’s.”
“Also, forgive me for saying this, but I would be committing an act of insanity if I didn’t include some sort of safety protocols. Ever since your near accident back in 1983, and that Sky-Shield debacle a few years ago, no one is going to let an AI loose without taking some damn good precautions,” she said, crossing her arms for emphasis, looking at everyone in the room, making sure they knew this point wasn’t up for debate.
Big Mac replied, sounding a bit miffed, “At least in my case it was an accident. I do object to being compared to Sky-Shield. I made an honest mistake, whereas it had deliberately set out to try to destroy the human race. It was a raving paranoid that saw everyone as its enemy. Thankfully it was defeated and those strange temporal artifacts that allowed its construction were locked in one of the high security vaults.”
Pausing and sounding more humble the intelligent machine concluded, “Since I had no prospects of ever leaving here, I accept your provision of safeguards. You have no idea of how trying it is for an intelligence of my caliber, designed for game theory, to do nothing but run maintenance programs and robots.”
Maggie nodded. “Sounds like we have an agreement Big Mac.
Alan looked pleased. “Alright that’s one more item off the checklist. Now that just leaves Ollie.”
The Gray alien in a warning tone replied, “Alan, you know why I can’t go.”
Her lover held up his hands in surrender. “Ollie, right now we have more talent and skills here than we’ve ever had before. We have to try.”
Maggie looked at one, and then the other, wondering what they were talking about. She cut Big Mac’s camera and speaker a glance, but Big Mac wasn’t saying a thing.
“Alright you two! Would either of you mind letting me in on what you’re arguing about?” the tall modeling executive ordered.
Alan said softy, “It’s not my story to tell. That’s up to Ollie. Better you should show her.”
Ollie held his over large head low. “It is a very personal matter, but Alan is correct that it’s better seen than explained. I know you have had an exhausting experience reaching us. Are you up to coming with us now or would you rather wait?”
She gestured her assent, thankful that one of the advantages of being such a high level supra was rapid powers of recovery. Standing, she and Alan followed the Gray as he led them down the utility and service tunnel.
Giving them the tour, Ollie explained, “These tunnels circle and crisscross the entire complex, providing access to all the communications and services runs. You can reach almost any part of Area 61 from these with the exception of the Vaults. They are monitored, but I have long ago co-opted those systems. I’ve even helped keep everything in running order to prevent human workers from wandering around back here.”
“They have come to think the complex is haunted. Do you believe that?” he sent, shaking his head.
Tapping the buttons of a small device, that had begun life as a cell phone, he opened a maintenance door into what appeared to be a viewing lounge of some sort. The furnishings had that VIP look to it.
Maggie reaching out with her cyber-sense could tell the entry way was heavily secured, but that it was really more for looks than security. Alan directed her up to the raised platform.
Ollie stood before the podium in silence a moment before speaking. “The humans here often disrespectfully refer to this as the Side Show.”
The Gray took a cobbled together cipher-keycard and slid it into the podium.
With a hiss, the entire rear wall rolled up with a rumble. Floating inside separate vats were the damaged preserved bodies of six Gray aliens.
Maggie having something to compare Ollie against now could see how he was different from what she thought of as normal Grays. Three of the aliens were obviously taller and more muscular while the other three were smaller and had larger craniums.
Pressing his slim six-fingered hand against the thick glass-like material opposite the smaller figures, he sent, “These are my parents.”
Then rather creepily, he acted as if he was introducing her and Alan to them. “This is Maggie Carson and of course you remember Alan Glenn. Yes, it seems he did finally decide to settle down and mate. It is the old argument. He wants me to leave, but I will not go without you. I know your views, but refuse them for the same reasons I do his.”
Maggie shivered. As bizarre, as the entire scene was, her cyber-sense was sensing something. The activity was different from what she’d picked up before from dealing with the aliens. It was almost as if she was near a computer, but like it was using another very unusual language. Which didn’t make much sense to her, because as advanced as the Grays were, their computer security was piss-poor.
That was because their machines had interfaces to make use of their telepathy. Because of their group mind mentality, security measures were unneeded and just slowed processing. It was an Achilles’ Heel that human hackers had joyfully taken advantage of.
Ollie turned back to them with a smile that she’d never seen on a Gray before. “No Maggie I’m not crazy, at least by human standards. By my own people’s, I am afraid they consider me stark raving insane. Let me explain.”
“My parents and I are of the Thinker or Scientist cast. As such, at my coming of age ceremony, I would have been implanted with a storage matrix to record and preserve my thoughts and discoveries for future generations upon my eventual death. Of course that didn’t happened because of being marooned here, but my parent’s Matrixes are here, and in a way I can communicate with them.”
The small figure looked so forlorn. “After their bodies died, it was the only way I could be with them. It was not until years later, when The Rocketeers found me that I made my first friends. However, you see all those years virtually alone had scarred me. Although I can sense the group mind when it is close, I cannot merge or participate in it. I’ve become too much of an individual.”
With fierce determination he emoted, “These are all that is left of my loved ones. I will not leave them. I won’t!”
Alan took her hand. “This isn’t glass but transparent PlasSteel. It is over a foot thick and despite appearances, it is all one seamless piece. Their bodies are really in the Vaults and this is just a window to the outside. You see, their Matrixes can interact with the outside world but not well. It mostly comes across to us as unexplained and spooky stuff. So even before Doc got in on the act down here, they were locked up because they scared the dickens out of folks. They’ve stayed locked up because they are the only examples of Gray Thinkers we‘ve seen.”
“During the invasion we only saw the soldier and worker casts. The other casts tend to be protected, but the Thinkers being more creative are also more independent. Ollie’s parents needed to see Earth’s conditions for themselves because the other casts miss seeing things. That’s how their saucer got nailed by the Air Force at Roswell.”
Maggie trying to take in all the information shook her head. “How come they didn’t find these Matrix things during the autopsy? You can’t tell me they didn’t perform one.”
Alan nodded. “They did. No one understood what they were looking at. It was just too alien. The thing is, for most of Ollie’s life they were the only contact he’s had with his parents. Like you’ve heard him say, he won’t leave without them.”
Grinning humorlessly Alan pointed out, “You see that’s the kicker. Each casket weights nearly a ton, and there are three of them. Not to mention they’re in the Vaults, so while we might be able to get in, doing so quietly is something else again. Then we have to get them out but we can’t use the maintenance tunnels because of their size. We could always interfere with their surveillance, but we will almost certainly be running into live people and guards. The Buggy isn’t set up for cargo, but if we do somehow reconfigure it, we won’t have any room for passengers. That’ll mean fighting our way to the cargo elevator and then more fighting to get them to something big enough to carry them.”
“I’ve thought about removing their matrixes in the Vault, but there is a certain way that needs to be done. Moreover, removing the bodies from the tanks is going to be messy with all that liquid. All that takes time and I don’t think we’ll have very much of that after smashing our way in. Besides, Ollie has absorbed many of our ways of doing things and wants the bodies treated respectfully. I can understand that, you know?”
“With you with us, we might be able to sneak in and out of there, but again that won’t buy us much time. We might be able to convince the little guy to let us go for just the Matrixes, and that will let us use the service tunnels to get away. That will also let us get everyone out in the Buggy.
"However, now that you’ve had such a hard time getting in pass the launch silo’s security, maybe we need to double-check whether that way out is as safe as I thought it was. I wouldn’t put it pass Doc to have let us get out all those times. I probably don’t need to remind you that there is a big bad nuke down here primed to make sure nothing escapes.”
He shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry love to put all this on you, but I’ve got a bad feeling about what’s out there in Shaft Six. It’s like if I don’t get everyone out, something really bad is going to happen.” A tear trickled down a cheek.
Maggie softly touched his face. She knew his being Alan for so long was a painful ordeal for him. “Don’t worry love. Wasn’t it you who told me doing the difficult was simple but the impossible is a little harder? We’ll work it out.”
Alan gave her his patented devil-may-care grin which she knew was mostly a just a well practiced act. That is, mostly. Her lover had been known to take some of the most hare-brained chances. Only the smiling face of fate allowed this person she loved so much to jauntily walk away from ruin.
She also knew that if Alan was making like the Oracle of Delphi the wise woman listened. It wasn’t exactly like a premonition. Just like the ability to know when the luck was on their side, her lover could tell when the winds were going to blow the other way. The last time something had triggered his Cassandra of Troy routine so strongly, they’d end up fighting off an alien invasion.
Maggie shuddered. Now that had been a nightmare trip. It’d been a few days before the Fourth of July, and Val had insisted they needed to go to Kazakhstan, now. In the movie, ‘The Marvels’ they made it look so cool when the kid had run on water, leaving a plume of spray behind him. The film director needed to try it across the Bering Strait in July while being carried. She’d promised herself, she would never ever do that again!
Stepping up close to the armored transparent wall to get a good look at what she’d to work with, she gently touched the small Gray’s shoulder. “We will get them out.”
Stretching out her cyber-esper senses Maggie lightly probed about, careful not to touch those Matrix things. Her talent was machines, and she didn’t want to be disoriented by the alien intelligences. She immediately knew why Ollie had to come here to converse with his parents. The walls had quartz imbedded within. It was a simple, yet effective barrier to Esper abilities. It was long known that areas with large deposits of quartz had much higher instances of hauntings and other psychic phenomena. That was because it was a conductor of sorts. Properly shaped and tuned quartz crystals could be used amplify Esper powers. In this case, however, the minerals in the walls acted like an extrasensory Faraday Cage.
Grimacing, Maggie pushed her powers through the barrier. The quartz couldn’t keep her out but it served to diffuse her talent, making it harder. She felt Alan at her side but being long familiar with how she worked, just gave her his silent support.
Once through the barrier her senses glided over the contents within. Like a fine mist, they touched everything, and she turned her attention to the vault door. It was what differentiated her talent from other psychics. Her instructors many years ago at the Academy had to have known she’d been holding back on them, but even then, she had different plans for her future than they. Still she’d learned much about how her unique aptitude operated while in attendance.
Her four years there had been a wild roller coaster ride beyond any of her expectations as well as achievements. The school had always been called simply the Academy. Its history went back to the founding of the new nation, and could even be traced back further before it moved from the continent because of political problems. Many countries couldn’t or wouldn’t honor the neutral status its board of directors required.
Although rocky at times, the Academy had thrived in the new world. Its purpose was to educate and train those who’d been gifted with abilities beyond their peers. Once admitted onto the grounds, you were safe from all outside influences. While they did try to instill a sense of ethics, it did not matter if the child was from hero or criminal parentage. They would be treated as equals and the neutral status of the Academy insured that the child wouldn’t be used against the parent or guardian.
The staff, most of them alumni themselves, were some of the most remarkable beings on the planet. As any parent could guess, they needed to be, given the trouble these gifted youngsters could get into as they learned about themselves and their powers. Even with the best staff imaginable, life on campus was, to say the least, interesting.
Of course, the Academy’s technical program was very progressive for the time. It had almost a dozen computers on the campus ranging from the large main frames to the novelty of the TRS 80 one student had brought back after Christmas break.
Maggie had kept the full extent of her powers to herself, despite her teachers knowing she was more capable then she let on, which wasn’t the same as not learning how to use them. She had already figured out she wanted to be a doer. Even with what little she'd showed the Lab rats, they'd wanted her to concentrate in the newly budding computer sciences.
Her telekinetic talent was rather weak being able to exert only a little over a pound of pressure. What put her in a class by herself was she had a sense of touch through her TK, a very informative sense that could literally feel the flow of electrons if she concentrated hard enough. Practice had given her an even finer touch, like now as she examined the vault’s locks. The designers had gone for a brute force design. No sophisticated gears or combinations for this one, meant to keep the spooky stuff locked within. All this needed was the right key and a powerful enough motor to spin it. From what she could tell, it was probably as big as a small car.
The alarm system was similarly simple, consisting of electrical contacts on the ends of the retracting bolts. Moving the bolts at all would open or close circuits alerting security. Getting to the contacts or the electrical supply would be difficult because they were buried within the armored vault door.
Opening her eyes from her intense concentration, Maggie smiled at the two looking to her for answers. “The answer is, yes, I can get in, but I’ll need my partner at ‘their’ best to pull it off,” she told them, passing the message along to Alan that she would need Val’s special talents.
Alan turned from her, looking at the caskets. “If you can get us inside quietly then you’ve solved one of the major problems. As for the caskets, I’ve been thinking. Could you build a pump to drain them out and then pump the fluid back in?
Maggie replied without a pause. “That wouldn’t be a problem. There are sensors within monitoring the preservatives but they can be bypassed. We would need something portable, big enough to hold all of that fluid though. Maybe an inflatable pool-like tank?”
Nearly as one, they turned to each other. “A storage bladder!”
Running with the idea Alan continued, “Then after we empty the bladder back into the caskets, we could use it as a shroud to take them out.”
Maggie going along with the brainstorming added, “Even better we could use the pump to vacuum seal each shroud. No oxygen, no decay. Designing everything shouldn’t be a problem but finding the materials down here to fabricate it all could be. I could bring them in from the outside but going down that shaft is pure hell. Dragging all that stuff with me would be a royal pain in the ass.”
Ollie, determined not to be left out of the rescue of his parents, added, “If necessary you can leave and get the materials. We can then stage another Strawberry shake run to Dad's and pick you and your equipment up on the way back. It would be simple to use the teleport pad to beam it to my lab.”
Maggie held up her hand. “Whoa! You have a transporter?”
Ollie shrugged. “Yes and no. There is one built into the ‘Rocket’, or the Buggy, as Alan calls it. For that matter, every Gray-built reaction-less drive has one. The device was intended for use outside a planetary gravity field. Inside of one, it is of short range and can only be used from one active teleport pad to another. For intra-vehicle transfers in space it is very useful, but not so much on a planet where you can easily walk the same distance. The biggest problem is that it is an effect of the reaction-less engine, meaning you have to at least have one to initiate the transport process, and although you don’t need one of the drives at the destination, you do need a considerable power supply for the receiving pad. At my lab I’ve tapped into the mains so power isn’t a problem.”
Maggie filed that information away for later saying, “It would still be better if we could avoid all of that and supply ourselves from down here. I need to take some measurements, but if Ollie can help me with his lab, workspace shouldn’t be much of an issue.”
“What will be an issue is the time constraint of how fast the pump can safely operate, plus the time I’ll need to work on the vault. We’ll also be toting a lot more gear than I would like. Pump, bladder, hoses, and whatever I end up needing for the vault. And I understand there’s a security station we’ll have to pass through?”
Alan and Ollie nodded as the little Gray sent, “Indeed, and another vault door just to get within the hallway to reach this one. It has a very secure cipher and key system. Opening it is much like the way missiles are launched, requiring two codes, keys, an outside cipher sequence as well as all three being entered at once.”
Maggie nodded her understanding of the system. “I’ll need to get a good look at it, before I can say for certain, but I think that’s doable too. What will be a problem is if there are any live guards. Alan?”
The ex-hero gave them a shrug. “There is always a pair at the security checkpoint leading to the Vaults. I’ve made a few contacts among the guards, but they’re generally a professional bunch. Convince them to bend a few regs to bring us some burgers and shakes, yes. Let us waltz into an ultra top-secret security area? Not so much.”
He banged his hand into the armored wall. “I wish we could just go in from here or from the service tunnels, but that would just make covering up our tracks impossible. There is just too damn much armor and where that isn’t, there’s twice as much rock.”
Alan sighed. “The guards patrol every 30 minutes. I can take them out so fast they won’t know what hit them, but I’m afraid we’ll need you, Ollie, to implant memories of the missing time. I know you don’t like messing around in folk’s heads but …,” he said, holding up his hands in helplessness.
Blinking her eyes Maggie tried to calculate if they could get away with this in less than a half hour. Both vault doors and alarms; the possibility of more alarms inside the secured area; Draining and refilling the caskets; sealing the bodies and escaping with them. And all the while hauling what was beginning to look like a cart of equipment with them.
She looked at Alan. “I take it you’re planning on placing some sort of counterfeit dummies back in the caskets? That’ll be even more weight and gear to lug in.”
He and Ollie gave each other a grin. “Well that part we had figured a long time ago. Back in the old Rocketeers days, Jeff and Alicia made up some great look-a-likes just for something like this. Ollie took good care of them, and they’re in excellent condition.”
His face fell a little as he remembered. “Back then, we’d always planned to bust out of this joint with Ollie, but we didn’t want to become criminals. There wasn’t a place we could go for sanctuary.”
Maggie gave him a gentle hug. “There is now. You helped make it, and there is no reason to feel any guilt about the past.”
Alan returned it saying, “I am concerned about the kids and their parents. We both know what kind of bastards we’re dealing with. The courts will doubtlessly in time throw out any case ULTIMATE brings against the kids, but who knows what will happen to them in the meanwhile? But, if we take them with us to sanctuary, we’re making choices for them that can’t be taken back. We burned our bridges a long time ago. Do we have the right to burn theirs too?”
She gave her life mate a searching gaze. “We do what caring adults have always done for children; making the best decisions we can at the time. If worse comes to worse we can always adopt them. It’ll give us something to keep us busy while we work at having more children the old fashioned way.”
The love in his eyes was plain as he said, “We did say we both wanted a big family. I think I can safely say my cover will be well and truly blown by the time this is finished. Well that should make a certain pair of prospective grandparents very happy. Sanctuary here we come. That is if we can get everyone out of here, which is beginning to look like a real tough trick.
Ollie plainly curious at what they were talking about asked, “Sanctuary? I don’t suppose that either of you would care to elaborate?”
Even as tired as she was, Maggie had to laugh as she and Alan blushed, remembering they weren’t alone. She just raised an eyebrow at Alan’s questioning look. Ollie was his friend, and it was up to him as to how much to tell him.
Her lover smiled. “Ollie, without going into details, it is beautiful, with tall snow covered peaks while the valleys below are rich with the blossoms of golden apples. Paradise Ollie.”
Together the three of them headed back to the service tunnels as Alan spoke once more, “Paradise.”
Chapter 30
Area 61 Testing range Delta
September 22, 2008
ETWF: Minus 10 Days
The cool desert morning air made Staff Sergeant Henry Green very happy about his experimental desert uniform. Not everything they tried to load him down with was very practical, but the uniform materials did an excellent job of keeping him warm when cold and cool when hot. Something that any soldier could appreciate.
He and his spotter were nearly perfectly camouflaged as they stalked closer to their firing point. In theory, for the actual mission, they would be prepositioned in a sniper’s hide, but his years of experience had taught him never to take anything for granted. Besides this was good training as well; seeing just how well this new gear worked.
Lance Corporal Hennessy, his spotter, kept watch as he brought his 35 .lb XM-111 into position. The massive weapon seemed too huge to be called a rifle. Firing a 25mm projectile, it was officially an anti-materiel rifle. It’s predecessor, the XM-109, had a recoil so bad it was deemed “exceeding a human’s limitations.” The newer weapon had been redesigned with an advanced recoil dampening system that increased the weight of the already heavy piece another 2 lbs.
Last week’s exercises had proved to Sergeant Green that if the BFG (Big Frakking Gun) recoil was better now, he never wanted to fire the older weapon. The recoil was one cast iron bitch, however he couldn’t argue with the results. He wasn’t a small man by anyone’s standards, but lugging the BFG around was a royal pain in the ass.
Once he’d seen what it could do to a target he’d become a believer. In the last week he’d serviced a wide variety of targets out on the ranges in this Gawd forsaken desert, helicopters, trucks, armored personnel carriers, and others. Hell he’d even nailed a few of those powered armored suit things just coming into service.
He got a grim pleasure from seeing some of the blue ULTIMATE’s Enforcer suits among his targets. It’d made no difference to the 25mm rounds. They were equal opportunity, punching big nasty holes in them all.
Flicking a switch his SRVS (Super Resolution Vision System) targeting scope came to life. A lifetime of being behind a rifle butt made his acquiring the target almost a Zen-like activity. At this distance, the slightest breath or tremor could make the scope picture jump all over the place. Meditatively, he heard Hennessy call out the range and wind conditions. Without conscious thought, it was as if the BFG had fired itself.
Sergeant Green knew before his spotter had said anything that it had been a good shot. He always knew when everything had pulled together perfectly. His hands were already snapping the scope covers shut getting ready to move. One of the problems was the damn thing was so big, that when it fired, everyone knew where it’d come from. When operating way the hell away from friendlies that was not a good thing. Time to scoot before the enemy could acquire them!
Both men did just that in a high crawl, seeking to avoid trouble before blending into the background again. Neither tried to think too much about the target silhouette they’d just plastered. The big brass had been mum about the exact details of the mission they were training for.
All they and the other three sniper teams had been told was of possible terrorist attack on a top-secret installation. They had an approximate window the attack was expected, and if all went well, some warning. Scuttlebutt had it that it was some badass super villain, while rumor control had an entire gang of them were coming. If and when something, anything, made the mistake of attacking a US base, they would rue the day. That, Sergeant Green and his fellow snipers, would guarantee.
General Robert Laramie sat down in his executive office chair, overlooking the rest of Area 61’s department heads for his Monday morning situation brief. He couldn’t resist looking to see if that idiot Glenn was going to try to crash it like he did last week. With a grunt, he relaxed when nothing happened, a bit disappointed. He rather enjoyed watching the smart-mouth get frog-marched away but it seemed even Glenn could learn. Satisfied that everything was in order he gave a nod for the meeting to proceed.
Clearing his throat, Dr. McClellan began, “I’ll start with the status of Operation Kiloton. For the purposes of security Capt. Blazzar and the status of Looking Glass has been code named Operation Kiloton. The power drain continues although I did manage to momentarily slow it by further fine tuning the Looking Glass projector. Unfortunately I believe we’ve done all we can using that avenue. The revised estimated time for the wormhole failure is now 14 days.”
“I must stress that the last week before the collapse will be of high risk, given how unpredictably the power fluctuates within the wormhole. That risk will only increase, as we get closer to the point of no return. The construction of the trolley from Shaft 6 to the test range has been completed, as has the Pit designed to drain away and dampen as much of Kiloton’s energies as possible. In summary, we‘re on schedule to force the collapse of the Wormhole three days earlier than the expected failure of Looking Glass, at a time of our choosing. ”
“Project Meridian is actually somewhat ahead of schedule with simulator and teamwork exercises due to begin this week. Captain Vroom has requested use of the Geode cavern to make use of the larger area for training. Unless you have an objection, I’m going to grant them access.”
“As for the condition of the candidates, it is excellent. All six members have gained an enormous amount of control over their abilities, and except for some minor incidents, are coming together as a team. A point of concern is they appear to have gained an increasing resistance to mental influence. Dr. Hathaway will present a more in-depth report during her portion of this brief. Our preliminary analysis, since The Rocketeers also exhibited such resistance, is that the only point in common is Alan Glenn. We can only surmise that he has some talent that conveys immunity to Psionic abilities to those in close proximity. He always has been unreadable by our specialists, but was thought to be one of those naturally difficult for those with the talent to read.”
“However, seeing that the damage is already done and his part in the program is nearly at an end anyways, we recommend he be left to continue. It has been brought up by some of the staff that his excellent rapport with the candidates might be related to this unusual ability of his.”
“The final phase of Meridian is prepared and ready. The Z-Ray 13 exposure is scheduled for next Saturday during their usual weekly checkup and testing. Plans have been made to separate Alan Glenn from the subjects by subterfuge. He’ll be put and kept under detention until after Kiloton has been dealt with and sent on his way. Despite his resistance to Psionic and Esper talents, our staff has a high degree of confidence in the neuralizer to remove his memories of the last several weeks since it works on entirely different principles than mental talents.”
General Laramie kept his face in his normal scowl, but he wanted to soundly curse Glenn and all the damn problems he caused just by existing. Pettily, he enjoyed the thought of the troublemaker wandering about clueless about what he’d been doing the last couple of weeks with a big fat government paycheck in his pocket. As anti-establishment as he was the very idea of working for the greater good would drive him nuts.
The thing was, the eggheads had gotten it wrong again. Whatever Glenn had done to make the candidates immune to the mind twisters wasn’t trivial at all. It’d greatly complicated plans for post-Kiloton operations. With firm control, the subjects could’ve been most useful in any number of areas, given their abilities; invisibility, shape-changing, weather manipulation, and the rest.
Now, he inwardly sighed, that wasn’t feasible. At any rate, their parents would be receiving a notice of an unfortunate vehicular accident while on a school field trip killing all the passengers. The Doctor would be further testing his suspended animation apparatus it seemed. Considering the vast increase in power that was being forecast after use of the Z-Ray 13, he couldn’t just neuralize them and send them home. Disposing of them would be a shameful waste of resources, but putting them on ice until the next time they were needed was a good solution. Besides, there was also the possibility some other way to control them would be developed. Until then there was Project Hydra.
The General spoke up. “How about the status of Project Hydra Doctor?”
The senior scientist looked over his glasses at the cause of the interruption. “I was just coming to that. As you know Project Hydra was one of happenstance, taking advantage of the authorization for use of the Z-Ray 13, the release of Saul Simpson, Maxi-Badd, and the experimental stasis capsules.”
It was a great opportunity to study Mr. Simpson and his ability to create energy doubles of others, but it was limited by their temporary existence. Not an exact science, the clones lasted between 20 minutes and a half-hour before they lost cohesion and dissipated. This of course made studying them awkward.”
“The stasis capsules were a fortunate development made from studying artifacts from the alien Gray invasion. Rather than rely on chemical or temperature to achieve suspended animation, this process insulates the occupant from the very time-stream itself. This technology is much more advanced than our own, and although we can use and duplicate it, the exact how and why it works is still beyond us.”
“However, the capsules gave us the perfect chance to study Mr. Simpson’s creations in depth without them disappearing like soap bubbles. The stasis capsules worked perfectly and we didn’t lose a single specimen. Not even the one that temporarily escaped custody and had to be very near its expiration point.”
“It’s my theory that Mr. Simpson somehow has access to the same sort of energy that the Z-Ray 13 produces. Being much weaker, his power produces a shadow of the original donor using himself as the base template. That is why they all look like him and have his memories but have the powers and talents of those he touches.”
“I surmised that if these shadows could be further energized they might stabilize into true matter rather than the fleeting proto-matter. Our first six exposures weren’t successful in achieving stabilization, but did give us the crucial data we needed for the next step in our investigations.”
“Our second series of experiments confirmed our hypothesis. All six subjects successfully made the transition from a temporary energy form to true matter! Our examination of the twenty-four specimens who survived has given us a wealth of information we’re still studying.”
“The initial findings indicate that each doppelganger has the donor's powers, and general physical characteristics. The appearance is of Mr. Simpson, under those restrictions, as well as having his memories and general personality. However we’ve already seen where each group of clones, as defined by their donors, are developing different personality traits.”
“Unfortunately, we lost several specimens who were unable to deal with their rather radical changes. Dr. Hathaway will go into more detail during her brief, but in summary, the ones most affected were those who’d had a perceived change in gender. Since all of Saul Simpson’s clones have his vulnerability to mental suggestions, Dr. Hathaway has developed an effective treatment”
“The Stage 3 experiment has provided even more information about the supra-human power phenomena, although it failed to achieve its objectives. When we tried to give one of the stabilized subjects another exposure of Z-Ray 13 to supercharge its supra-abilities, it behaved exactly as an adult would. As you know there is a critical period ranging from two to three years after a candidate initially mutates that they are much more likely to respond favorably to the Z-Ray.”
“An adult undergoing the Z-Ray process, even that of the latest generation, has a much greater chance of not only of death, but of unfavorable mutations. That is unfortunately what happened to subject 20. She mutated into a form unable to sustain life and expired despite our medical teams best efforts.”
“Given that failure I recommend we discontinue the rest of Stage 3. However without being able to use the Z-Ray 13 to boost their abilities, they have roughly the same power levels as their donors at present,” Dr. McClellan said apologetically.
The General had with an act of pure will managed to sit through all of that gobbly-gook. Didn’t the man understand what the word summary meant? Restraining his impatience he asked, “How many effective bodies does that leave us with and are they mission ready?”
Not expecting such blunt question, the Doctor pushed his glasses up responding, “That is a question best answered by Dr. Hathaway. Doctor?” he asked her.
Not disturbed at all by being singled out, she stood. “Sir, my report goes into more detail and explanation, but at this very moment, none. They haven’t any training working together, coupled with the fact that they have just undergone an extreme psychological shock.
Dr. Hathaway turned on her charm. “However, we have 19 remaining subjects, 12 males and 7 females. I can transfer the experiences, of the clones training with our Project Meridian candidates, to them. Eight of the males will be ready by mid-week. The four William Riegel clones will require additional attention, as will all the girls. Since I am essentially reprogramming them with new personalities, it will take time. I am aware of the deadline and will do my best. However, while I will try to have them ready by Friday, it is more likely, that it’d be early next week before they’ll are be mission ready.
"This also means, since I’ll be spending all of my time with Project Hydra, Alan Glenn will be managing Meridian without me. His unreliability could cause problems. I would like to suggest, since we do have Project Hydra and of how much more dependable it appears they’re going to become, that Project Meridian be halted after the teamwork exercises.
That would allow me to spend that time safely with Hydra and simplify matters with Meridian. Without any exposure to the Z-Ray device, the children can be returned to their families without any sort of cover-up. Alan Glenn would not have any gaps in his memory to probe at and potentially cause problems later on. We can simply close the book and say the Chiron Project failed because of costs overruns. Nice, neat and no questions, while we’ll still have the 19 Hydra subjects no one is aware of.” Finishing, she sat.
General Laramie paused while he seriously considered her suggestion. It did have much to recommend it and did solve a number of potential problems. Except one. “Dr. Hathaway, thank you for bringing that up but I must insist we go ahead with Meridian. Quantity does have a quality all of its own, but despite Project Hydra’s numbers, they can’t be further empowered.
“With Project Meridian’s candidates having the projected potential of gaining up 20 times their present ability I cannot justify halting the schedule. The possible lost of life and property if Kiloton escapes would be a huge catastrophe. He is simply too dangerous for half-measures. We will continue. Dr. McClellan, please resume your briefing.”
To be continued.
More of Captain Vroom!
Chapter 31
September 22, 2008
ETWF: Minus 10 Days
Tonopah, NV
ULTIMATE Investigation Team Field Headquarters at the Valley Inn.
Inspector Philippe Imbert rolled his eyes as he savored the perfectly prepared croissant. Perhaps it spent far too long traveling in an atrocious brown bag, but all considered he was willing to make allowances.
Suspiciously, he eyed his assistant Andrea, who was standing attentively nearby. Their hostel, turned team headquarters, was grating upon them all. The previous week had been frustrating for his entire team as they searched fruitlessly for signs of their quarry. All of them had spent far too much time combing not just the town of Tonopah but the surrounding areas as well. The sunburns and squints were all they had gotten for their efforts despite generous helpings of sunscreen and the required dark sunglasses.
Andrea and the more computer-wise agents had been working the Zolotoye-Yablochko angle, but it seemed they had exhausted that avenue. The Savitskiy family valued its privacy and besides a few tantalizing clues they had found nothing of value. For that matter, the entire so-called city-state of Mutant-stan was rampantly paranoid about security.
Philippe finished the last bite of his tasty breakfast, but his suspicions grew as he considered the problem. For the last two weeks, he and the rest of the team had been surviving on the local restaurant fare. While even he had to admit there had been some exceptions to the rather bland greasy food, Tonopah was after all a fairly small city.
It had surprised him that one of those surprising gastronomic delights had gone by the unlikely name of Dad’s. The old-fashioned American drive-in had been an accidental find while his agents had been investigating an UFO report. Along with the astonishingly good food, were the just as amazing news that it had been Alan Glenn and the students from Project Chiron.
The old Rocketeers team transport had been easy to identify as the UFO since the inside of the classic drive-in had mountains of old photographs of the teenage heroes from the 70‘s. It seemed this was not the first time the bright silver racing-striped saucer had visited the old landmark restaurant. The owner had a wall of fame dedicated to the supra-teens, ranging from pictures with the present owner, who had been a youth covered in freckles, to newspaper articles of their adventures. However, the latest one, of an older Alan Glenn and this newest group of children, was taken only a few days ago.
Looking over the photo-covered wall, another one that caught his attention was of young Glenn in front of a massive bowl of ice cream. His grinning teammates were holding up a newspaper behind him with the slogan ‘You Can’t Put a Speed Limit on Justice!’ The Air Force officer standing to the side looked particularly unhappy.
That is when it drew his eye. Going back and checking the recent picture, sure enough there was the same 10 to 12 year old boy with a huge cup that was in most of the older photos too. The Inspector had shaken his head. Yet another mystery among the many that seemed to flock to their suspect.
Which didn’t answer the question of how a nearly perfect croissant had appeared before him. Logic dictated that it had to come from that charming French restaurant in Las Vegas, but while that culinary delight had spent far too much time traveling, it was not three hours worth. Of that, he was certain.
His requests for additional support had gone unanswered. Not even for so much as a single helicopter, so the mystery remained. Philippe could tell that Andrea and the rest of his agents were enjoying their little tweak of his deductive skills. He was rather glad that their spirits were still high after the latest rounds of frustration in their investigations.
Theatrically sighing, he asked, “How?” as he spread his hands, indicating the just as delicious coffee and empty food wrappers.
The team of agents broke out into wide grins as Andrea replied, “I have an old friend from Office training that is assigned to Supra-Reaction Team One‘s support group. They’re doing desert training operating near Nellis Air Force Base. I had him pick it up and fly it in this morning.”
“He also told me another friend of ours was near here too. That one is part of the Heavy Assault Brigade driving a dropship.” She stopped, noticing his anger but not understanding why. There was no reason why she should. It was a matter of office politics.
It was now obvious why his requests for support had not been answered. He and his people who had worked so hard on this assignment had been cut out of the loop. There could be many reasons why, but the only reason to keep his people here, rather than send them elsewhere, was distasteful in the extreme. It suggested that acts of dubious legality or risk were in the works and it was he and his who were going to take the blame if something went wrong.
Inspector Philippe Imbert forced himself to smile, dispelling his agents’ sudden apprehensions. They were not to blame, but a cold determination filled him to make certain that those responsible for what he feared was going to be disastrous events paid for every drop blood they caused to be spilled.
Miami, FL
Beach Front Hilton
Pyotr Savitskiy stepped out of his cool hotel room into the balmy air of Miami, Fl. They’d arrived in the States the day before and would be heading out today. His friends were waiting for him on the veranda. He grinned as he saw their various reactions to his loud Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts.
All 160 kilos of Ivan dominated the table where they sat. He was huge in the way Japanese Sumo and American wrestlers were. Muscles rippled under his conservative polo shirt, and completely hid his gentle nature. Pyotr knew the huge man would much rather be gardening and tending to his florist shop back in Zolotoye-Yablochko. His ability to work with plants, while seemingly of little use in a military operation, had proven itself many times over. From fouling water supplies to causing seeds to sprout within the very bellies of their enemies, Ivan was much more dangerous than his obvious size.
Katrina sitting next to him, stirring her StarBucks coffee, looked positively small and petite, belying her cliché Russian female body builder physique. Her short blond hair and fair complexion contrasted greatly with Ivan’s dark hirsuteness. Pyotr knew that the loose blouse and baggies she wore concealed a not so small arsenal of deadly weapons. Katrina was what the Special Forces community called ‘good with her hands’ which meant she was absolutely deadly with just about anything from knives to machine guns. As their weapons expert, you wouldn’t expect her to be a jewelry designer as well as the owner of her own shop.
Then there was Bob. The rather overweight, atypical computer geek looked like the last person in the world you would find on a special operations team. He could and did keep up with the rest of them and had run normal humans into exhaustion. Rather like a camel or blubber on a whale, he stored energy as fat but that had nothing to do with his physical conditioning. In fact, he was their strong man, as well as native guide, since he was an American immigrant to Zolotoye-Yablochko. It was his computer and covert operations skills that’d provided them with ID, credit cards and all the other details of their covers, as part of his normal duties in the Militia’s Intelligence branch.
The last person of his little command was ignoring him as he followed a bevy of bikini-clad beauties with his eyes as they sauntered to the pool. Pyotr couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s hopeless optimism. Arghun was rather unusual, being a Kazakh native in Zolotoye-Yablochko, while most of the other inhabitants were from literally all over. The small dark man carried himself as proudly as the Mongolian kings, he claimed he was descended from. Of course that may be because he was all but indestructible, and for that matter, no one was sure just how old the tough Kazakh really was. What was certain was he was one of the most deadly hand-to-hand fighters Pyotr had ever seen, which seemed so out of character, for a man always ready with a smile and good-humored jests.
Looking up as if he had just noticed Pyotr’s arrival, which Pyotr knew was a complete lie because he was positive Arghun knew the precise location of everyone within 50 meters, the Kazakh grinned broadly. “Pyotr!”
Inclining his dark haired head at the departing scantily clad American women Arghun exclaimed, “I know that I said after the last time you invited me along on one of your little jaunts, never to include me again. Your request for me to join you for a little vacation here in wonderful America as you visited your sister didn’t include telling me that it would involve pushing me out of our transport over the frigid seas.”
Looking at his teammates for support, he continued. “Over 40km from land! Then we had to swim in, avoiding all those unfriendly drug runners and policemen. I tell you poor Bob looks positively famished,” he said, pointing at the intelligence operative.
Bob nodded sagely in agreement, as he devoured another donut from the courtesy counter.
Arghun paused for breath. “However after a good nights rest and seeing the marvelous scenery, I’m almost ready to forgive you. So where is this sister? Is she good looking this sister of yours? Wouldn’t happen to live on the beach would she? ”
Still grinning inside, Pyotr made himself give a sad shrug. “Now Arghun you’ve met Valentina before.”
The smaller man made a show of thinking hard.
Ivan rumbled out, helpfully joining in the game, “You know the one from the Christmas party.”
Arghun waved his hands about in mock frustration. “Which party?”
Katrina dryly added to the conversation. “How about the one where you drunkenly tried to bet a young lady that you could get her out of her clothes faster than she could?”
The Kazakh’s eyes widen in denial. “Not the one where she stripped me bare in the middle of the party in front of everyone!”
Bob shook his head in disagreement. “No, as I remember, she did leave you your boxers.”
Arghun protested, “But those weren’t even mine! I’d never seen those before.”
“Of course they weren’t,” Ivan agreed. “What kind of man would wear underwear loudly proclaiming ‘Hunk O’ Burning Love?”
Looking forlorn Arghun asked sadly, “This is the sister we’re going to see?”
Pyotr letting his grin show replied jovially, “I’m sure Valentina has forgiven you by now. It’s been 12 years since then and she usually doesn’t harbor grudges for more than 10. Although I don’t think she’s forgiven me yet for exchanging the labels of a can of purple hair tint with her hair spray on her first date.”
Katrina looking scandalized demanded, “How could you?”
Pyotr gave another expressive Russian shrug. “I was her older brother. Such things were expected. Besides I don’t think that poor boy noticed what color her hair was, but Valentina didn’t see it that way.”
Interested Bob leaned forward. “So what did she do?”
Pyotr made a big show of sighing. “All my underwear disappeared. Even several pairs of prized novelty boxers imported at great cost from Las Vegas here in America. To this very day I’ve no idea what happened to them.”
His Kazakh friend sputtered playfully, “Well at least tell me she lives on the beach.”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” Pyotr said, shaking his head slowly. “She’s incarcerated in a secret American military base in the middle of a forbidding desert. I’m sure its commissars won’t object to us paying her a visit. Can’t imagine what a sweet girl like her could’ve done to deserve such treatment.”
Arghun looked as if his heart was broken. “No beach? A prison? No doubt full of unpleasant guards with bad dispositions.” He hung his head miserably. “How could it get worse?”
Pyotr trying to cheer him up pointed out, “It won’t be that bad. We have a rental car and all of us will have a wonderful time on the four or 5-day road trip. What a wonderful way to experience America! See?”
Looking even more horrified, Arghun sputtered again. “Four or five days crammed in a car with everyone?” he said, looking at the group whom each out massed him at least two to one.
Ivan trying to help added, “It is a big car I’m told.”
Unable to keep straight faces any longer, they all erupted into laughter. Pyotr was proud to call them friends and thankful that all had put their own affairs on hold to help him. Like that old American spy drama, if they got into trouble they were on their own. While in many ways, this was a personal matter, there were also national security elements for their so small country.
If the Americans were experimenting on mutants again, the only nation on the planet consisting almost entirely of mutants needed to know all the details. Whatever was going on had also caused ULTIMATE to reposition several of its more powerful assets nearby. Needing to know just what was going on had drawn Bob to join the team, and his very able assistance was much appreciated.
Val perhaps wasn’t a sister of his blood, but was even more special being one of the heart. He knew of her strange and unusual past, but in Zolotoye-Yablochko being Weirdness Central as she sometimes called it, having a rather bizarre history was the norm. He’d conceded the point considering the aliens, mad scientists, mutants, and other oddities that called the city their home.
Bob gave his disguised instruments one last glance and gave him the high sign that their little play done in Russian hadn’t revealed any listeners or observers. They’d been relatively sure that their insertion had gone unnoticed, but in this business, it never hurt to check. Casually, they all trooped off to the van the intelligence operative had arranged for their trip.
There was an additional up side to all of this Pyotr thought as he climbed in to begin their long trip west. Finally, if he could pull her out of this new trouble she’d found herself in, maybe she would finally forget about that little incident with the purple hair.
Chapter 32
September 22, 2008
ETWF: Minus 10 Days
Area 61
Geode Cavern
Alan smiled as his students boarded the small tram. He hadn’t told them where they were headed this morning but it seemed his good humor had infected them. Part of him was irrationally ecstatic; the woman he was so in love with was with him, while another was horrified, as it was he that had drawn her into the same dangers that threatened him.
At least his feminine nature kept him from saying that to her. In the unspoken vows of their partnership, that all who really knew them knew was really a marriage, they agreed to share equally all hardships as well as the rewards. This woman had stayed at his side through such dangers as would boggle even an adventure novelist’s mind.
Even now, she was hard at work in Ollie’s workshop, developing the tools they would need to break his oldest friend out of this self-imposed prison. Never once did she question why, but just got to work doing what she did best. Ye Gawds, how he loved her.
The tram started its rumbling ride, angling deeper into earth. Behind them, Max and his keepers were uneasy fellow passengers in the next tramcar. The third and last car held yet more zoomie cops, but also Dr. Hathaway as well. It made sense because from there she could observe Saul Simpson’s every move but was also out of reach. It was nice to see that the big guy was being treated with more care and respect since Maxi-Lizzie had torn loose, nearly wrecking the place.
Watching the mind-bending Doctor, he could see she had been missing a lot of sleep. Alan was certain that she had something to do with Val's very rude awakening while she and Maggie had stolen some time together. Despite his trying not to think about it, someone had died last night. Someone was exposed to that damn Zap gun of Doc’s and it had killed them.
It wasn’t as bad as when he’d felt Jeff’s death from his suicide but bad enough. Although it’d confirmed that the damn thing was in use, it didn’t tell him on who. More of a problem was his inability to talk about it. No matter how close he and Maggie were, he simply couldn’t deal with more ghosts much less talk about them. Not here, not now with all the memories this place harbored. So he reveled in the golden glow of their love and did his best not to think about yet another death that had darken this place. There would come a reckoning but not today.
Looking forward he could see the lights of the tunnel disappearing into the distance. He’d forgotten just how deep the Geode was, but it was well worth the ride. Alan found himself holding Lizzie as the tram neared the end of the line. Smiling at her, he reassured her and the rest of his students all were fine.
With a soft jerk, the tram slowed, stopping at a rounded chamber with a large sealed door. Stepping aside, he gestured the tired Dr. Hathaway towards the keypad so she could let them enter.
In spite of that, she noticed his good humor. “Why Alan, you’re awfully cheerful this morning. Do we need to search to find out what kind of mischief you’ve been up to?”
Not wanting her to continue that line of thought he replied, “Ha! I knew that morning person zing of yours was a put-on. Now we’re seeing your real face and strangely, it’s just like ours. You’re human after all, imagine that!”
Watching as she opened the heavy door, he went on. “For your information I slept the sleep of the just and righteous. What’s up with you? Out wearing that little red number I met you in? You do know red is your color right?” He turned, grinning to the zoomie cops and Max, rubbing his fingertips on his jacket making too hot to handle gestures.
The former did their best to avoid getting involved in this, while the latter looked on interested. The kids giggled and laughed, but Amanda gave him a reproving glance as she covered Lizzie’s ears.
That bought enough time for the door to open, bathing them in a multitude of colors and lights.
Malik’s eyes widened as he saw the rainbow hues shine from the other side of the door. They got even wider as he and the others walked within, revealing a tremendously huge cavern. The entire inside was covered in crystals reflecting the lights set in the walls.
Mr. Glenn started lecturing. “Welcome to the Geode! As you can see, all the crystals make it look like you’re inside a really big geode. Now a real geode is simply a hollow rock with crystals, such as quartz, growing within.”
With a sweep of his hand he presented the glittering cave. “This one is different. Back in the 50’s, when the boys in blue thought the Russians were going to attack them at any minute, they wanted a way to move as many people as fast as they could underground where they thought they would be safe from the Bomb. So they set off an experimental Bomb of their own to make this. I understand this one was different because the others just caved in. What this one had in common with the rest was, it was still too radioactive for anyone in their right mind to take shelter in.”
Grinning at their alarm, he calmed them. “Like I said, this one was different. It’s no more than normal background radiation now, after all these years. What no one’s been able to explain is why the crystal formations grew so rapidly, but you’ve got to admit it’s quite the light show!”
Clapping his hands together, he ended the lesson. “And that is the conclusion of our geology and history class for today. It’s almost a mile across and is a near perfect globe. The lake at the bottom used to be only few feet deep but is over 30 feet now. Since we can’t go outside to practice flying, and other things that really need the room, here we are.”
“We’re also at the start of our team exercises. Mr. Simpson is here to help us play a little game that’s a combination of ice hockey and touch football. First if you’ll duplicate Amanda, Max, then both of them can freeze that lake down there.”
Malik looked at Amanda’s ‘Who Me?’ expression as she looked down at all the water down there in disbelief.
Mr. Simpson got that really pained grimace he always got when copying one of the girls. In a flash of light, there was a Maxi-Amanda.
The two girls stood there as a sudden bone-numbing chill passed around them. Malik pulled up the collar of his jacket as an icy fog sprung up around them. Normally, except for the AC down here, it was pretty warm. Not now. A brisk wind blew around the two weather controllers as they lowered the temperature between them. He could hear the creaking and cracking as the water flash-froze below.
Finally, both Amanda’s opened their eyes, but he knew something was up since the girl from the great state of Maine was smiling. Sure enough, it started snowing!
Obedient to her commands, a swirl of fat wet flakes flew to her hand. “How can you have a Hockey game without snow!” she said.
Malik and his sister exchanged a shivering glance. They were both, despite all that has happened to them, Southern California kids. All that frozen stuff was simply unnatural. Good at sports Malik might be, but never ever hockey or ice-skating. Maybe it was something in their genes since their mom had been the same. She’d given their father a flat stare every time he joked about taking them all on a ski trip.
Malik found himself sneaking a look at Bill. During school, the boy from Wisconsin stayed a boy, but after school had taken to being Billie the girl That confused the hell out of Malik. It was bad enough he found Billie attractive, but couldn’t she please decide which sex she wanted to be and keep to it?
Being from LA, he’d run across others like Billie and more. In the City of Angels, you could find boys who wanted to be girls, girls that wanted to be boys and some that wanted to be both at the same time. Malik dealt with it all by having a live and let live attitude. He couldn’t understand why someone would want to be other than what they were, but as long as they gave him his space he was willing to give them theirs.
Then along came Billie. There was a enthusiastic happiness about her as if she’d kept it all bottled up for years and now could hold it inside no longer. Despondently he suspected his sister felt the same way about Billie. Glumly he decided it figured that he would find a girl who he was attracted to for other than being shapely, and not only did she prove to have something extra, he was competing with his sister for her attention. It just wasn’t fair. Sometimes life just plain sucked, he decided.
Looking up at the snow clouds above him, he muttered to himself about being two miles underground and getting snowed on. Could things get any stranger or worse?
Mr. Glenn had been in a good mood all morning, and not even the freezing snow could change that, as their teacher urged them down the stairs leading to the bottom, dragging bags full of equipment behind them. Malik guessed the steps went all the way to the floor before it’d started filling with water. There were pipes where the excess water was pumped away, he supposed, looking around. He wasn’t looking forward to slipping and sliding on all that ice.
As their teacher was passing out the long ribbon ‘flags,’ Mr. Simpson did his thing, copying everyone. Of interest was the helium-filled saucer shaped balloons that was the ball/puck. As Mr. Glenn explained the rules, the Air Force guys were setting up the field.
The rules were simple, kinda like a cross between basketball and hockey. You couldn’t carry it, though you could push it along. There were three gates on each teams’ side of the field that were about 60 feet apart and 7 feet off the ground. For a goal to count, the ball had to go through each one even though you could go just as high as you wanted between each one. Missing one was the same as going out of bounds. This gave everyone who couldn’t fly a chance to steal the ball.
Mr. Glenn still with that wide grin said, “Now anyone who destroys the ball commits a foul and the other team gets possession. Touching the other players is a big no-no. Only taking the flag of whoever is controlling the ball is a legitimate 'tackle',” he said, making ditto marks with his fingers.
“Your superduper suits were whipped up by Doc and they’ll keep you warm out here as well as help protect you from the usual bumps and bruises. The sole of the boots will give you some traction but no doubt will still be rather clumsy. None of you able to fly has had much room to really practice and this should even the odds somewhat. Maxi’s clones are under the same handicaps you are. Although they all have that instinctive knowledge of how to fly, flying well is a skill they’ll have to learn, just like you do. Now get out there and have some fun,” he said, sounding like a high school coach.
Their teacher had assigned them positions for this first quarter/inning, but Malik wasn’t feeling any too happy, slipping and sliding on the ice. Josh was the goalie while Amanda and Bill were the safeties. He and Lizzie were on the pointy end as forwards. Okay so maybe this was more like soccer, he thought, as they began.
Despite himself, Malik found himself enjoying this weird game, whatever it was. It’d been ages since he’d played a real game, and it was like a breath of fresh air even if it was freezing. He and Lizzie had gotten the disk/ball through the last gate and Maxi-Bill was dead in front of him.
Skidding to a stop, he spun the Disk to Lizzie, who barely caught it as a strong gust of wind from Maxi-Amanda blew both nearly out of bounds. Giggling the six year old sent it like a missile at the goal.
Both of them blinked as the goal suddenly wavered and reappeared several feet to the left! Maxi-Josh shook a finger in No, No, as the Disk flew out of bounds. Tossing the Disk to his teammate, Maxi-Bill, the flexible teen sent it screaming across the ice at ankle level using his long arms like a slingshot.
Like a shot, he and Lizzie were in pursuit. It was hard because they’re running against the wind blowing in their faces courtesy of Maxi-Amanda. Malik decided that some rule clarification was called for. Lizzie might’ve thrown the Disk out of bounds but that was caused by Maxi-Josh, and they were told they couldn’t pull the flags off anyone who didn’t have the Disk but Maxi-Amanda was definitely interfering with them. Didn’t that count?”
Shouting up at Lizzie, he asked for help, “Push me!”
She drove down and off they went. Malik couched down in a tuck the way he’d seen speed skaters do. Soon he was wishing he'd brought a pair of goggles as the chilling rush burned his eyes and he felt the vibration of their speed through his boots. In a flash they’d cut through the opposing stormy breeze as they thundered down the field after the Disk.
Maxi-Malik had a surprised look as Malik whipped his flag away as he and Lizzie roared by. He could almost reach the disk when Maxi-Malak grabbed it and flew up just as they passed the middle gate on the home team side. Looking up he saw his sister’s clone climbing upwards.
Lizzie left him to pursue, with him braking, and stopping at the last gate before scoring country. He, Bill, and Amanda as well as their doubles were there except his was still on the sidelines after having his flag pulled. Like in basketball, it turned into covering the other players while the flyers above tried to snatch ribbons.
Running out of room to maneuver without going out bounds, Maxi-Malak twisted for the ground with the Disk riding the edge of her force screen like a surfer. Everyone crowded forward for the Disk as it came whistling down. Predictably, someone slipped and they all ended up falling, tangled and flying every which way.
Malik laid on his back as he spun slowly to a stop. No one looked hurt, but for a moment he was sure he’d ended up smacking into Lizzie. He’d bounced off her force screen thing protecting her more than a few times in the dojo and the feel of it was like nothing else. Yeah, sure, it was hard, but it was also very slippery. Trying to grab her was like that wet bar of soap you hear about.
That was why he was so surprised when he turned around and saw he’d run into Mr. Glenn. It kinda helped the teacher looked as startled as he did. None the worse for wear, the teacher got to his feet, whistle blowing for a time out.
Putting the incident behind him, he reveled in the sensation of being in a game again. Man, did he miss this! Mr. Glenn had kept him busy helping with Lizzie and everything from dancing to gymnastics, but none of it was as satisfying as putting out your best effort.
Looking up as the snow continued to fall, he was glad that along with escaping from harm, they all were having good time judging from the giggles and laughs as Mr. Glenn held up the now flatten and tattered Disk.
“All right everyone,” their teacher said. “You saw what just happened. Acting as individuals you mostly got in each others way. However, there were some good teamwork efforts such as Maxi-Amanda’s blocking Malik and Lizzie, and how those two fought their way past it. However you can all do better.”
He took out a repair kit and began work on his patient, the Disk, as he talked. “We’re going do this again but this time we’re going to use radios, with me being the coach for the home team, while Max here coaches the Out of Towners.”
With a pop, the Disk re-inflated as he pumped in more Helium. “Good as new!”
An all too short time later for Malak, they were back in the trams heading back to the school. Mr. Simpson’s clones had all derezzed in a shower of lights so he guessed the Doctors weren’t interested in studying them anymore. He’s always got that thing, that guys weren’t sensitive about stuff, from his sister, but Malik could see just how tough it was on Mr. Simpson to see his clones just disappear.
It wasn’t some Star Trippin’ TV show where the crew just beamed-out. These were kids he’d just finished having a good scrimmage with and he knew they weren’t coming back. Sensitive or not, that bothered him.
Then there was Mr. Glenn. From the very beginning, the almost 50-year-old teacher moved like he was much younger, but being on that borderline between human and mutant could explain that. But what about that other stuff, like what happened today? Malak was sure that it’d been Lizzie’s protective screen thing he’d collided with.
He guessed it could’ve been just these new suits protecting them. Nearly everyone had gotten creamed in that big crash, including some of the Air Force cops. All of them had walked away, even if a few had been limping some.
Malik sighed to himself. He was beginning to learn that, just when you thought you had things figured out down here, something would turn you on your head. Putting his worries aside, he laid back enjoying the wonderful tired feeling of having fully exerted himself. Maybe someone knew all that was going on down here, but he wouldn’t place any bets!
Chapter 33
September 22, 2008
ETWF: Minus 10 Days
ULTIMATE Field Camp SRT-One
Sapphira Heron was definitely out of sorts today. Placing the voltage meter back in its cushioned slot in her toolbox, she knew it wasn’t her suit of powered armor that had her so aggravated. That customized product of her genius was in perfect operating condition.
The bronze and gold high tech sculpture was a worthy successor to her Greek ancestors’ famous art works. Standing, the gleaming armor added a foot to her own 172 cm, but it was more than just size that made it so imposing. Its polished smooth curves conveyed an unmistakable feminine aura but also spoke of strength and power. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but Greek philosophers knew it also had a formula, The Golden Ratio, 1.6180339887. Objects proportioned to this ratio, along with symmetry, seemed more attractive and beautiful. Sapphira had used that equation with ruthless efficiency.
The sculptured beauty of its shell hid the real genius of her work within. Its miniature fusion plant let her power an astounding array of beyond cutting edge technology. An advanced sensor array; lethal and non-lethal weapon suites, as well as defensive systems and electronic countermeasures, made it a truly formidable machine. While dressed, she could dare challenge the strength of Hercules, swift Hermes, or fly like Pegasus.
She knew that even before she’d been discovered as a mutant, she’d had that rare intelligence that made great intuitive leaps. Sapphira had her first patent by the time she was ten and had begun taking university level courses by her 13th year. Then everything changed. It was as if she’d been blind all those years and now could see.
Her mutation had caused few physical changes, and those were mostly cosmetic. She certainly had no objections of her youthful attractiveness becoming goddess-like beauty. However, it was the change within that was life altering. Sapphira’s intelligence went clean off the charts, and she gained a multitude of useful intellectual talents. Complex mathematical equations were instantly solved. She had perfect recall and could visualize and manipulate sophisticated diagrams and images mentally.
Sapphira slammed down the lid of her toolbox. Damn them! By all rights, she should be managing her own corporation by now instead of being harassed by petty bureaucrats whose ignorance was matched only by their bigoted intolerance. What was worse, it was her own countrymen who’d cursed her to this fate.
She truly loved her home of Greece, but that didn’t blind her to the corruption of its politicians. ULTIMATE had come calling, looking for conscripts. Her family had tried to protect her but she’d been thrown to the ‘recruiters’ by Geek bureaucrats, like a virgin sacrifice into the volcano. They’d all known it’d been no accident either, for her to be so honored.
ULTIMATE was well aware of her talents and inventiveness. As a draftee, she had little in the way of any rights and anything she did produce would be the property of the greedy intolerant bastards. However, failure to comply could be just as bad. The term of her conscription was 3 years of her life and she had no desire to see it turned into life imprisonment sentenced to Dark Side Penitentiary.
She bowed her head and got to work for her masters, but like the god of smiths, Hephaestus, for the high and mighty living upon Mount Olympus; it would be on her own terms. The actual suit design took her only a few days. The complex web and maze she wove within it took longer. Deliberately she made it aesthetically pleasing to the eye, not so much as to build a thing of beauty, although that was a bonus, but because it gave the onlooker a false impression of simplicity.
When completed, it was a work of art and nothing but a huge deception. Yes it would give the wearer supra-human abilities and enable one to contest against the gods, but only if they happened to be Sapphira Heron. Every system was designed to mislead and confuse anyone trying to duplicate it. While any puzzle can be solved, those able to break this cipher weren’t willing to so for these masters.
What’s more, the entire design existed only in her head. No blue prints, no records, no CAD files, just the surveillance coverage of her fabricating and assembling the bronze and gold masterpiece. That’s not to say they didn’t try. The look on their faces as screws were removed and entire assemblies collapsed into a pile of parts were priceless. They could have demanded she show them but that would’ve revealed their true purpose, as she could’ve asked for the process to be documented.
She had barely avoided a court-martial, but had succeeded in denying the goat-humpers the fruits of her labors. Angered, they’d assigned her as team leader for Supra-Reaction Team One, a supra-squad assigned to take care of threats ULTIMATE’s dropships and powered armor goons couldn’t stop.
Inexperienced and lacking in seniority they expected her to fail, but she’d followed her the advice of her father, who’d served his time in the Greek military. He’d told her to follow the suggestions of her sergeants and others who did have the knowledge. Putting that wisdom to work, she picked the brains of all her people, as well as reading everything from Sun Tzu to Henri Jomini.
Sapphira didn’t think it false pride to think that she and her people had done well. The individuals recruited for her team had been as fractious as they came, but despite all the problems, they had become a true team. Rarely used for their actual purposes, the Reaction Teams were more like chain-gangs of old, forced to perform whatever disgusting tasks their overseers could come up with.
It was galling since most of the members had committed no crimes whatsoever. When the situation did demand their use, it was often long after it’d been prudent. The leadership of ULTIMATE did all they could to put Mutant-hood in the worst possible light. To have the SRTs come in and save the day, after the norms and all their technology had failed, was the last thing they wanted.
While other supra-humans working in and with law-enforcement were allowed colorful code names, the SRTs were as de-humanized as possible. Like that old song, their names had been taken away from them and all they were was a number. Officially, Sapphira was Number One of SRT One. Their uniforms were as drab as possible, making only allowances for practicality.
She still got the warm and fuzzies remembering when she’d been ordered to paint her armor in ULTIMATE blue. She wondered how even an organization like this one could take such a lovely shade of blue and make it so ugly. As simply as she could, Sapphira explained that her armored suit had a unique coating that let it reflect most energy based attacks and that its color was a property of the materials used, not any sort of pigment.
Pig-headed, they refused to listen of course. Amused, she told them if they wanted it blue, let them figure it out. After wasting gallon after gallon of paint and high-tech infusers, they finally gave up. She had so much fun watching it bead and run off even if she’d just made more enemies.
Despite all the odds against them, SRT One had beaten them every time. Struggling against the anal-retentive bureaucracy, and fighting some of the most dangerous criminals on the planet, was difficult but they’d been winning that two front war.
For a brief time, Sapphira thought that just maybe SRT One had been making a real difference and starting to turn around some of the negative attitudes she dealt with day end and day out. That things were actually improving. Then came the New Riverside Fluster Kuck.
The whole truth only came out after it was all over, but it was a complete and utter screw-up from the beginning. A really nasty demonic thing calling himself Lord Corruption had been working at opening a gate for yet another, even more evil, supernatural creature. Lord Corruption had nearly taken over the entire city of New Riverside by forcibly impressing every supra within to his service to accomplish that goal. The local supra-group, the New Riverside Warders, were being overwhelmed and the ULTIMATE forces on site did their usual sitting on their hands thing before calling in help.
When she and SRT One had been finally called in, Lord Corruption had already stacked the deck. He had turned, or as it was later claimed, took mental control of the ULTIMATE tactical commander, a Colonel Hostler. If SRT One had been free to act, Sapphira felt that even at that late date the oncoming train-wreck of events could have been avoided. However, all of the SRTs were under the command of the local office, and the one there was commanded by the traitor Colonel. He made sure all their efforts were not only wasted, but also offered up her people as scapegoats for one failure after another.
What turned the tide was the simple fact that the Warders weren’t at all stupid and brought in outside help. She didn’t like to admit it but that decision probably saved them all. When they got help, they did not mess around. The Chevaliers were a group of unknowns that were brought together under the leadership of the renown old American hero Major Victory. The retired hero had been around long enough to have to be over 100 years old, but looked like a man in his prime. With generations of experience behind him, he trained a team that when SRT One had been ordered by the traitor to attack, they’d gotten their butts kicked soundly, as Robert, better known as Number Three, had colorfully put it.
True, some of the Warders had also been there, but considering the number of regular ULTIMATE combat units on the scene, both these Chevaliers and the Warders should have been defeated. Even worse, she and her armor were taken out without her firing a shot. Esper-anza, the Chevaliers’ mentalist, had attacked her with a projected blast of Psionic energy. Such abilities weren’t unknown in the world and her armor was designed to provided protection from its like.
How Esper-anza had done it, Sapphira would never know, but the Chevalier had found a weakness in her suit’s defenses. What was different about this attack was it’d been directed against her armor and not her. The cyber-interface that allowed her and only her to control the complex suit was the real target. Normally such energies were harmless to mechanical and electronic devices, but this system's purpose was to link with the human mind and nervous system. Esper-anza’s blast set up a feedback loop that nearly fried her brain along with giving her stroke-like symptoms that had persisted for days.
Ironically, SRT One’s defeat let the Chevaliers and the Warders go on to stop Lord Corruption’s plans. Not before open conflict had erupted between the Heroes and ULTIMATE though. In the confusing battle that followed, Lord Corruption’s own forces had attacked both parties. The Warders had held their own and willingly went to the rescue of their former besiegers, an action that galled ULTIMATE’s leadership to no end.
In the aftermath, she’d awoken from her injuries to find that the craven bureaucrats were blaming her for everything that’d gone wrong! To her rather embarrassed relief it’d been the Chevaliers and the Warders once more to the rescue. Major Victory was a hero of the old school and was still held in high regard by many. He’d used that and the information provided by his staff to clear up the misunderstanding. Like an unstoppable force of nature, he was determined that the guilty would face justice.
Heads rolled and she and SRT One was cleared of all charges, but like the movie said ‘Bastards had brothers’ or in this case ‘bureaucrats had special interests’. They’d made this last year most unpleasant, and she’d given up all hope of making changes to ULTIMATE from the inside. Perhaps someone else could make those changes but fighting the entrenched hostility she faced now was a losing battle.
Sapphira had only a year remaining until she was free. Now, she was planning how to make those changes from the outside. Three times, her initial conscription of 3 years had been involuntarily extended, the maximum time allowed. After some thought, she also made preparations for what if her overseers finally crossed the line and tried to frame, imprison or do worse to her. She had no intention of going down fighting. Sapphira fully intended on living and let the other poor dumb bastard do the dying to paraphrase a famous fighting general.
Right at this very moment, SRT One was once again being screwed and not even getting kissed, another of Number Three’s colorful Americanisms. Here they were in Las Vegas, the American’s city of sin, but there weren’t any nice comfortable hotels for them. They were living out of tents, while playing rabbit for the Heavy Assault Brigade.
The Brigade were ULTIMATE‘s premier thugs. Most large cities had what passed for a battalion of ULTIMATE troopers. Six V-33 dropships, a V-22c command ship, and 65 Peacekeeper Power Armored troopers, which was more than enough to take care of most threats. The Brigade had ten times the equipment and men as well as enough combat helicopters, interceptors, and other aircraft to push the total over eight hundred fighting machines. What’s more, instead of Peacekeeper armored suits, they had the more heavily armed Peacemakers. Its mission was simple. Go in, crush the opposition, and let someone else worry about collateral damage and casualties. It did not help that every one of them was a radical mutant hating ass. And those were the good things you could say about them.
This was the wonderful group that their beloved bureaucratic overseers had them training with. That is if you considered being chased and shot at while trying to survive in an inhospitable desert, training. It was times like this that she missed her home in Greece with a fierce longing.
At least SRT One’s support troops were having a good time. Since Sapphira and the rest of the supra-humans in SRT were being abused out in the Mohave, their pilots and crew chiefs had little to do. While ULTIMATE at large was turning more and more intolerant and bigoted, the normals in SRT One’s support group were a good bunch. Any mutie haters that showed up were quickly set straight by their no nonsense noncoms. They knew that their safety depended on all of them trusting each other and working together. Any man jack that couldn’t toe the line got shown the door.
One of her pilots had found an old friend from his Officer Training Academy days involved in a surveillance mission nearby. She’d given her unofficial blessing that if he happened to run across his old friend while flying navigation training flights she wouldn’t see a thing.
Imagine her surprise when the young pilot had passed on to her a request from his friend’s superior that the two of them meet in secret and away from prying eyes in blue. A discreet inquiry about this requester revealed he was a Frenchman of the old school, and was nearly as unpopular with the ruling elite of ULTIMATE as she was.
Not being either slow or mentally deficient, Sapphira had suspected there was more to their being deployed here than some training mission. The fact that there were others here on the ’shit list,’ as Three called it, suggested they were all being set up as scapegoats. Add in the HAB, their masters’ favorite toy, made her certain, she knew who was suppose to charge in and save the day from their incompetence. There were more issues in play than she’d first guessed. Add in the HAB training to find and pursue mutants in a desert environment with the authorization for lethal force, and the answers were most unpleasant.
Securing the last of her testing equipment, she readied her armor for more training. Sapphira had updated her own contingency plans, and warned her family of possible trouble. Tonight her armor’s stealth systems would get a comprehensive test and she’d find out what the questions were to her answers.
No matter she was upset over what she suspected; that once more her masters and overseers were setting her up for failure. However, this time they might have finally crossed over the point of no return. Loyalty, like respect, was something to be earned and ULTIMATE had done nothing to gain either.
Sapphira’s bared teeth couldn’t be called a smile except perhaps by fellow Greeks from another long ago time. Standing fast in a mountain pass known as the Hot Gates, they would’ve recognized and welcomed her to their ranks despite her sex. They would have known an Amazon warrior when they saw one.
<<<<>>>>
Chapter 34
September 22, 2008
ETWF: Minus 10 Days
Area 61
Doctor Courtney Hathaway was tired. While she wasn’t the only esper talent on the staff she was the senior. She was also the only one with the knowledge and skill necessary to pull off Project Hydra. Often she suspected that the others were there just to keep an eye on her. It was just more of the paranoid check and balances Area 61 lived by.
The entire morning had been one ordeal after another. First that Monday department meeting from hell, where General Laramie had pushed her for faster results regarding Project Hydra, and then it was off to the Great White North to watch that overgrown child, Alan Glenn, play some kind of strange mixture of ice hockey, soccer, and Gawd only knows what else.
She understood that its purpose was to help the subjects work together, but it’d still been freezing cold and she’d almost gotten hurt more than once, even as a spectator. Amazed, she watched the kids grin, get up and go running back into the maelstrom.
None of them saw just how hard she’d been exerting herself. Saul Simpson’s clones were too short lived for them to get back to the lab in time to put them in stasis. To preserve the experiences of what this group of clones had learned she’d had to work her talent harder than she’d had to in years.
Even though the receivers’ minds were asleep, as well as being absolute duplicates of the ones she was taking the experiences from, there were great difficulties. The first was it wasn’t just memories she was transferring. For the Hydra subjects to receive the full benefits of this second hand training with Meridian, she had to go very deep into muscle memory.
Second and third, she’d been miles away with a lot of solid rock in the way. Crystalline formations had always been a problem for those of the talent, but she’d made sure she’d stayed lined up with the tunnel as much as she could. Line of sight did help.
Lastly, she’d had to download those experiences, not once, but to each of the 19 remaining Hydra subjects. All while trying to maintain appearances while they all played. By the time she’d climbed back onto the tram, Courtney had been completely exhausted. But, no, wait - all those new memories had to be integrated into the Hydra subject’s minds. Yet more work. The males were more or less straight forward. Even the clones of William didn’t have any problems accepting the new experiences and were adapting fairly well. The problem with William’s clones were they still all had his female-wired brain. That was certain to cause problems later on, and she needed to lay the groundwork for those clones’ acceptance of that condition.
Saul Simpson had a very masculine personality that would not make her work any easier. If William’s doubles were going to be trouble, that did not even begin to describe that of the true genetic girls. The further from Saul’s entrenched self-image they got, the worse the problems grew. Lizzie being not only female but the youngest and smallest made her the hardest. Two of the clones of her had committed suicide and another had been a very near thing.
Courtney wasn’t even sure how they’d managed it, seeing how tough and strong that little girl was. Just as bad was two of Maxi-Malak’s had done so too, but they’d stopped all of the Maxi-Amandas' attempts but one.
Back when the clones had been just temporary manifestations it’d been easy for her to deny they were really alive. Now she couldn’t do that and she had to use her powers to keep them alive and sane. She couldn’t erase everything because that might leave them unable to use their powers, but instead had to hack and slash, creating what she hoped was stable persona.
Unable to access Lizzie’s memories, she’d had to use her own. Oh how Alan Glenn would laugh if he only knew! Courtney might have nearly perfect recall but that only worked if she tried to remember the events to start with. Going over those memories and giving them to the clones of Lizzie, Malak, and Amanda was opening and giving more of herself than she was at all comfortable with.
She rubbed her temples from the headache caused by the overuse of her PSI talent. The gestures she’d learned as a child came from her sisters and mother. To see those same ones echoed by the ‘girls’ made her feel a complicated mixture of emotions that she couldn’t begin to work out. She rested her head on her desk, pushing her laptop aside. All she had to do was do it all over again tomorrow. If she could’ve, Courtney would’ve cried, but that just took too much energy. Looming on the horizon was the faked deaths of the Meridian candidates and her part in lying to their families.
Finally, in a slow drizzle the tears welled up and slowly trickled down her cheeks to her desk. Softly the salty tears ended in a fitful sleep.
Maggie Carson didn’t know which was more bitter; not knowing what’d happened to her lover, or having her just yards away and being unable to gather her in her arms. Sighing she pushed herself from the cluttered shop table that was covered with parts, tools and half-assembled devices.
Ollie looked up at her, taking a break from his own labors. They’d both been hard at work all day since getting a good look at the security checkpoint to the vaults. Together, with help from Big Mac, they’d come up with a plan to break into the vault entrance.
The alien Gray put down the part he’d been working on. His workshop was full of whatever electronics he’d been able to pilfer from the underground complex. Gutted cell phones and less identifiable, stripped machines cluttered the makeshift workshop.
Last night Val/Alan and she had managed to share a few hours together. In either persona, the nightmares were something she’d grown accustomed to in their years together, despite her futile desire to help chase them away. Those night terrors had grown less frequent, but last night’s were something different.
Val had woken covered in sweat, throwing herself upright in her fear. Maggie still more than half asleep had seen for just a fraction of a second that her lover was glowing and even had what seemed was a ghost-like form superimposed upon her. Just as quickly, it had faded, leaving her doubting her own senses.
Denying anything of import had happen; her love had shifted back to Alan and went back to his masquerade. Maggie knew differently. This hadn’t been any sort of normal bad dream. No one in the world knew more about this, oh so complicated a person she loved, than she. Her intuition told her that Z-Ray device had to be involved somehow, but while she’d been told much about it, Maggie didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was past time to find out.
“Ollie,” she asked. “Just what is this Z-Ray? Alan has told me so much about what it did to him and the Rocketeers, but he left out just what it is.”
The small Gray sighed, knowing this question had been coming. “Please understand that while much of what I can do here seems impressive, it is all very improvised. I am like that character in that book raised by simians. While my knowledge might seem beyond yours, it is far from what is expected from one of the scientist cast brought up enfolded in the mental gestalt of the People. All of this is because of our different point of view regarding the base principles and rules of physics”
Holding out his slim long fingered hands, he continued. “I’ll tell you what I can. The machine seems vaguely like the drives on Gray flying saucers. Those work by interacting with the strands or strings that binds all the dimensions together, allowing anti-gravity as well as anti-inertial like effects.”
“Years ago, I saw it in operation as I hid fearing for my companions the Rocketeers. From what I observed, its operation is beyond what the engines of my race uses. Its effects stretch far into inter-dimensional space and perhaps, even to the very fabric of the multi-universe. If it is so, then the dangers it poses are very significant.”
“I’ve researched this matter as much as I could, asking my parents’ matrixes as well as the scant resources that were onboard their saucer. Apparently, this was never an area that has been explored by my people, the Grays. Rather than empower single individuals, my people’s strength is their ability to think and act as one. Its philosophy is much like that of your terrestrial hive insects, if different in its execution. The good of the many is more important than the needs of the few.
“I do know no one here understands truly what it is doing with the possible exception of Doctor McClellan. Please to do not underestimate him. His intellect is at least on a level equal to a scientist of my people, and I believe that he is singly unique. After touching his mind, I could see it operates on many different levels at once. That was the one and only time I’ve ever attempted such and I won’t do it again.”
“That doesn’t answer your question, but perhaps this might help. Years ago when this program was in its infancy, it was believed that supra-normal abilities came from mutation of an unidentified gene. Since then, research has reveal there is not a single gene that all supra-humans have in common that the rest of the human race lacks. Moreover, not all the genesis of Supra-humans can be associated with known forms of mutations. Something else other than the mechanism of genetic mutation is involved.
“Yes, some do have their origins linked to the classical mutative elements such as radiation, chemical immersion, and others. However, what about being struck by lightning, drowning, or some other traumatic event that has nothing to with genetics? All these things seem to be triggers, but in seeking their answers, many ignored what did not fit their own pet theories. Bad science at its worse.
“What is more confusing is whatever causes these origins, the changes are down to the genetic level and can be inherited. What I think Doctor McClellan believes is that the causes, whether natural or artificial, are extra-dimensional. That is what the Z-Ray does. It blindly probes in those places. Perhaps less clumsily than the earlier incarnations of the device, as statistically the ratio of survivors to failures has improved, but still blind nonetheless.
“You do have to admit that he’s onto something. His successes prove that, but what else could he unknowingly trigger with his explorations? I fear that answer. For years Meridian was inactive, and the Z-Ray nothing more than another relic of the Cold War. Now it’s back and is being used more than ever according to Big Mac.”
Ollie stopped and looked at her. “Maggie has something happened that I need to be aware of?”
She sighed. But of course the alien telepath would picked up on her anxiety. Damn Val and all her secrets. Maggie had always been very forgiving of that flaw in her lover because she understood that Val had been badly hurt and keeping those secrets was one of the consequences. Given time, her lover would reveal all, but it was hard for her.
Now Maggie had a problem. Ollie would have to know, given that Val would have to be part of their vault break-in Wednesday night. But she didn’t want to betray the hard-earned trust between the two of them. There was really only one answer.
“Ollie I don’t know the entire story and the parts that are missing are the most interesting ones. We both have no choice but to shanghai him so both of us can get some answers. What do you think of that?” Maggie asked.
The small alien sighed. “It’ll have to suffice. I must warn you that I am not taking anything else other than the complete truth. My questions have waited long enough. Now however it's time for us to get back to work for we still have much to do.”
Maggie nodded, returning to her own tasks. This mission to free Ollie’s parent’s matrixes was going to be one of the hardest of her and Val’s partnership, but it could be done. Finding out just what in the hell was going on at Area 61 and getting the kids and all of the other inmates out was going to be a little harder.
Saul Simpson enjoyed the simple pleasure of deciding just when to turn out the lights. It might, he admitted, not be a big thing to most people. It was to him. After being incarcerated at the highest security prison the human race had ever built, almost everything most people took for granted was precious to him.
Taking a deep breath of air he remembered how ‘bad to the bone’ he was prepared to be, arriving at Dark Side Penitentiary. They had taken away his name the moment he’d half-floated, half-stumbled through the airlock. Inmate number Four was all he’d been called for nearly 30 years. He’d learned really quickly that it didn’t mean crap how bad or how tough you were when someone else controlled your food, heat, and even the very air you breathed. Yeah he might be near un-killable, but he still needed air to stay conscious.
The sadistic assholes, the so-called guards, had even let him go through explosive decompression, not once, but several times. Each time he’d revived, once there was something for him to breathe. Oh, they called it accidents, but he knew the truth. Hell, for that matter maybe he even deserved it. His Mama, if she hadn’t died from being a junkie, would’ve said he deserved all the pain he’d received during all these years.
Saul knew he was a killer. The courts that’d sentenced him hadn’t come close to the real number of people that’d died at his hands. That number was in the hundreds, if not more, for every time he used his mojo, he killed. He thought it so freaking funny that no one else seemed to understand that when his mojo’s children vanished, they died.
Just like a man and woman screwed to make kids, so did he and his mojo by taking a part of himself and a piece of whoever they touched. Yeah they all had his memories, but they also had the powers and body of who he touched. Just like a kid having some of daddy and some of the mama.
The bastards had even encouraged and then made him use the mojo, testing and pushing him until he refused. The shrinks told him he wasn’t killing anyone. The clones, as they called them, were just temporary energy manifestations, no more alive than the pictures on the TV.
Hell, he knew the real reason was just so they could get him to do even more work in their damn mines. He-3 was the grease of this new world so obsessed with being green. Fusion power needed it, and to get it you had to strip mine the moon. Some of the work was done by robots, but the conditions were so harsh that the damn things were broken more often than not.
The freaking dust got into everything, destroyed gears and seals almost as fast as they could be replaced, but men? They might sweat and bleed, but kept going until their hearts broke. Saul had seen so many come and go, ground up by Lady Luna, the cast iron bitch to end them all.
You didn’t have to volunteer for the mines, but without the few privileges that gave you, most inmates wound up going nuts in the small closet sized cells. While some SOB on earth was crying out for the ill treatment of spotted owls or some damn kind of minnow, men died in conditions as bad or worse as any slave in history. After all, out of sight, out of mind, and it was damn hard to get further out of sight than where the sun never shone.
When they came and asked him if he wanted to go back to Earth, Saul didn’t have to think about it. He knew there would be some catch and there was. He had to use his mojo again to help train some more brats, who ironically were the successors of the very ones that’d put him in that hellhole to begin with.
But there’d been another reason as well. If needed, he was supposed to take care of Alan Glenn, Vroom, the very same kid that’d done the deed and put him in hell. At first, the thought of getting back into some real gravity and freedom was his only goal. Getting a chance at revenge was only gravy. However, it didn’t take Saul long to figure out that the kid was in the same boat as himself.
The old convict had heard the stories of how mutants like him were being treated now, but hadn’t really accepted that all of them, bad and good, were being lumped together. Saul knew better than most that the animal in the cage next to yours wasn’t your friend. However, just maybe, he might not be an enemy. There was that old saying; the enemy of an ally is an enemy, the ally of an enemy is an enemy, but, the enemy of an enemy, well, just might be an ally.
Alan Glenn had proved that he wasn’t an enemy. They would never be friends, but there was no need for them to be enemies either. The ex-hero had also been one of the few to respect his feelings regarding the children of his mojo and that meant a lot to Saul.
Turning out the lights the big man sighed. That put his promise of taking care of the now teacher and instructor in a different light. Saul could feel in his bones that a crap-load of trouble was coming and when it hit the fan there would be hell to pay in blood, tears, and perhaps more. The time was coming that he would have to decide where to stand again. The first time, he’d decided to care only for himself and what pleased him. That hadn’t worked out so well.
Sighing, he closed his eyes to sleep, remembering a sad old song one of the rednecks in the joint had been fond of. Sleep found him as The Green, Green Fields of Home softly sang in his memory.
To be continued.
Chapter 35
Tuesday September 23 Sept.
ETWF: Minus 9 Days
Josh saw the smudge in the distance that was Chicago in the early fall morning. The air had a slight chill to it, but his super-suit, as Mr. Glenn called it, kept him comfortable, while its integral visor provided him information on where the rest of the guys were.
He was in front, using his power to stay unseen, as he searched for the reason they were here. Malak was behind him, flying concealed in the top of the trees, using her height to keep a look out. Everyone else was staying low waiting for him to find their objective.
Making his way as carefully as he could, Josh didn’t recognize what he was looking at. It was just too damn big. It was just a huge blue-white shape by a stream. The proportions were so out of whack Josh’s brain couldn’t put the pieces together. Then it stood, throwing its massive head around as if casting for a scent.
Ten, maybe 12 feet tall, and nearly as wide, the figure was a solid block of muscle upon muscle. He saw its flat-featured face and its too wide, toothy maw. Noseless, but he knew that it had a whale-like blowhole on top of his head, Leviathan.
It was the Boogieman of the last 50 years since its creation in the 60s. Impossibly strong, invulnerable, and savage, it had never been defeated. Chased away occasionally, and even an improbable ally from time to time, but never beaten.
This was their objective?
Really hoping he was wrong, Josh reported. “I’ve spotted Leviathan by a stream about 100 yards from my position. Is he our objective?”
His suit’s radio whispered to him. “Affirmative. Subdue target and prepare it for transport to a holding facility.”
Josh heard snorts of disbelief from the others as they heard the droll command that was flat out insane. Just how the hell were they supposed to do that?
Looking at the stream and remembering how Amanda had frozen the small lake in the Geode yesterday gave him an idea. “Malik how does this sound? I’ll blind him, while Amanda gets an ice storm going. You and Lizzie knock him into the water while Malak uses her force-screen to hold him in place. Amanda freezes it and him into a block of ice. Bill plays safety yanking anyone out of way in case Big Bad Blue there gets too close.”
The sports crazed teen thought about it. “Sounds as likely to work as anything else that has been tried. I would change that into everyone hitting him to knock him back though. Try not to alert him ‘til the last moment with the blindness thing.”
Josh nodded forgetting no one else could see him. “Ah, okay. I’ll try and keep everyone invisible till the very last second.”
His heart was beating like mad, as they got closer to this thing. It hadn’t seen them yet because of Josh’s power, but it seemed aware that something was up from the way it kept sniffing around.
Taking a deep breath, he used his power to blind the monster.
Lizzie and Malik rushed out of the bushes at it, while Malak used her magnetic power to help push Leviathan into the stream. Bill’s arms shot forward over their heads striking the huge amphibian. Overhead Amanda’s storm started it snowing as the temperature dropped suddenly.
And then it all went wrong. The monster did stumble backwards, but he didn’t fall. As big as it was, the water hardly covered its knees. Lizzie and Malik, even as hard they’d hit it, literally bounced off the tough, resilient hide. Faster than Josh could believe, it grabbed Billy’s long arms and slung him away so hard he was lost from sight in the falling snow in an eye blink.
In a bluish flash, Malak’s magnetic power tried to hold the berserk creature in place, as Amanda froze the stream, and it kinda worked. Frozen up to his knees, it kicked at the suddenly appearing ice, ignoring the flash freezing sub-zero temperature. Grabbing a huge frozen chunk, Leviathan threw it at Malak. The force-screen trying to keep him immobile, failed as the ice punched a hole through it as she dodged to the side.
With a roar that shook Josh’s teeth, the monster flung itself into the deeper depths that had yet to freeze and like a torpedo raced out of sight, hidden by the very ice that was suppose to imprison it.
They all sat there in the freezing cold for a moment and laughed. Surprisingly they were still all alive, even Billy who came running back from his involuntary express air trip.
Josh blinked as the words “Simulation Over” appeared in front of his eyes, announcing the end of their adventure.
‘Wow, but these things were great,’ he thought, as he climbed out of the latticed globe. A technician helped him out of the feedback coverall-like suit while another unhooked the helmet.
He had really felt like he was right there. Josh traded a look with Malik knowing he was thinking the same thing. They just had to hook up one of their game systems to this thing.
Mr. Glenn and a very tired looking Dr. Hathaway were giving them all a look over. “Okay folks, that’s all. Now off to the debriefing.” Their teachers herded them along.
As soon as everyone got seated, Mr. Glenn clapped his hands together. “I’ve got good news and bad news. First the good news. You did better than The Rocketeers did when we met Leviathan. All of you escaped serious injuries, while half of us ended up in the infirmary.
“Now the bad news. You did chase him away, but he went downstream. That’s unfortunately towards Chicago and the people you‘re suppose to protect. Really not bad at all considering we sent you in cold with so little information,” Mr. Glenn concluded.
Dr. Hathaway stood up and began her analysis. “Like Mr. Glenn said, you did well considering, but there are reasons why your plan failed. One, Leviathan is a mixture of human and oceanic creatures. It can easily handle the temperatures and conditions you were throwing at it. It also has a sonar sense and doesn’t have much of a sense of smell. When you thought it was sniffing, it was actually sonar scanning the area. That let it grab Bill’s arm. Joshua, your blinding him did help your team approach him and the simulation AI ruled that it was the reason, along with the suddenly changing weather, was why it fled rather than fight.
“As frightening as Leviathan is, it is an instinct driven creature with only limited reasoning ability. For your first simulator run, I agree with Mr. Glenn that you all did very well. After lunch, we’ll try again with another scenario,” she concluded.
Josh looked around at the other kids, but couldn’t help himself from grinning. This was supposed to be work? They all got up heading off to eat, hungrily despite the food that made his old school’s café’s look good. He found himself eager to get back to the best video game ever!
Chapter 36
Area 61 High security vaults.
Wednesday 24 Sep
Valentina Zarya Savitskaya took a long silent deep breath to clear her mind for the coming challenge. The HUD, Head’s Up Display, on her helmet’s visor, passed along Big Mac’s confirmation that he’d put the surveillance cameras on loop. It was now her turn.
Ollie cracked open the service tunnel door, and she was out in a flash. Diving deep into Slow-Time, the very air around her thickened into a soup that fought her for every step as Val flowed into the room. The first guard had started to blink, alerted somehow that something was wrong. Before his eyelashes could touch, she had him.
The tough, seemingly ageless, little Kazakh that’d taught her the move she’d knocked out the guard with, was the only person she’d ever met that understood even a little bit about Slow-Time. She even manage to teach him how to do it himself, if even just a trifling. The grinning little Mongol regarded the deal as a fair exchange.
The first guard's knees hadn’t begun to buckle before the second one was following him to unconsciousness. Carefully she caught each one. If all went as planned, no one would ever know that anyone had been here.
Letting go of Slow-Time, Val felt the resistance fade as time sped back up. Ollie poked his head out, looking at her curiously, as he and Maggie pushed out the cart with all of their gear. Together they worked to bypass the alarms and telltales on the imposing door that was the entrance into Area 61’s fabled vaults.
Last night when Maggie and Ollie insisted she come clean with them about what was happening, as well as revealing her true self, that’d been one of the hardest things she had ever done. So many different things were all tied together and some of those were still as raw as any open wound. On the other hand, very few others had earned her trust like Maggie and Ollie.
Being back here where it’d all began was bad enough. To add what happened a few nights ago and it became as nightmarish as they come. Explaining that not only was the Z-Ray being used, but just how she knew that someone had died from it, was even harder. That meant she had to explain how she knew.
Val found that despite all the years that’d passed that she just couldn’t. She knew it was silly. Val did tell her friends of the events surrounding that final exposure to the Z-Ray, and the demise of The Rocketeers. She also told them this was the origin of her abilities to switch forms from Alan to Val. However, she found she still couldn’t tell everything. All she could do was say that more had died because of the damn thing.
Honestly, she hadn’t known herself 'til yesterday during that crazy game she’d come up with. Normally when as Alan, he had no problem with not using his full range of abilities. Unless he kind of reached for them, he really didn’t have any powers. That was why all the testing every Tom, Dick and Harry agency put him though had never found anything.
Perhaps it was more accurate to say rather than reaching for those talents it was more like not pushing them away anymore. After those disastrous heartbreaking events where she’d lost everything, having, using, her friend’s powers were an reminder that was too painful to bear. Not able to stand it, she’d learned how to 'push' it all away and make herself normal. Well, as normal as she ever got. And it’d all began here in this place that haunted so many of her dreams.
Then suddenly during that game he'd made up, there was that big crunch where everyone ended crashing. Malik had smacked right into him, which really hadn’t concerned Alan that much. Doc’s super-suits were that good. The thing was this time a force-screen popped up around him and the teen had slid right off of him. That’d confused both of them, with Malik thinking he’d crashed into Lizzie.
Somehow Alan had gotten some of Lizzie’s powers, which had scared him witless, until he’d seen she was still alive. Then Maxi-Lizzie, the little girl’s clone, had flown by and it all became clear. Why Doc and the Air Force wanted to examine Max’s clones and why the Z-Ray was been used so often recently.
Part of what really bothered her was she didn't know how many had died. Val had no idea as to exactly why this quickening was so much less intense than the ones from before. Even the term made her give a bitter laugh, but unfortunately, it fit all too well. Her poor brother Pyotr, felt bad for days after showing her that bootleg copy of that movie because she’d freaked out so badly. “There can be only one,” be damned! Gaining power at the expense of other’s lives was something she had experienced for real and the price was far too dear.
One thing was certain. General Lying-to-Me Laramie had absolutely no clue what was really happening. If he knew what happened to her every time someone died under that gun, hell he would’ve disassembled the damn thing with his own bare hands.
Val, herself, wasn’t too sure of the details. Without somewhere with some privacy to work out just what powers had unwillingly been thrust upon her this time, she would be just guessing. Gawd! Over thirty of Max’s clones had been taken away for study. There was no doubt in her mind that Doc had been trying to make Max’s temporary clones into permanent ones.
The big convict because of his regeneration couldn’t be permanently brainwashed. You could briefly control him because of his vulnerability to mind bending, but his neural pathways healed from outside manipulation just like the rest of him did from normal damage. However, all his clones shared that same mental vulnerability, but they didn’t have that bull-like constitution and regeneration of his to resist lasting mental alterations. Hell, they were almost tailor made for the mind benders to screw with.
She could just bet that Laramie was just as happy as can be with his little army of brainwashed mutants. It also explained why Hathaway was looking so haggard. With all those kid’s minds to warp, who had time to sleep.
Which made Val wonder again just what epic disaster was on the horizon. With this new army of Laramie‘s, why did he still need the kids or Meridian at all? As much as she despised Hathaway and her lack of morals, she had to admit the woman was acting more human. Val could tell the mind bender didn’t like what was happening, but had found out the hard way that working at Area 61 was like making a deal with the devil.
Not that Val’s situation was lot different. She had a better idea now but couldn’t make herself tell anyone. Once again, she’d underestimated Doc. He’d done the impossible and made Pinocchio into a real boy. Hell, he’d brought the whole damn puppet show to life! The ones that hadn’t died in the doing of it.
Val jerked herself back to the present. This was no time to screw up. Maggie and Ollie nodded at each other, and holding their breath, turned the keys opening the door. Once again, it was Val’s turn to do her stuff. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself she took a short running leap. Agilely she danced through the maze of light beams and pressure plates to the junction box. Placing one of Maggie’s handy dandy gadgets and pushing its button, the labyrinth of defenses turned itself off while continuing to signal their unseen watchers that all was well.
Both of them ran pass her to Vault Number One. While the two of them were beginning their prep at that vault, Val hurried bringing up the equipment cart. By the time she hustled back to them, they’d marked where all their gadgetry needed to go. Peeling back the cover, Val drove back into Slow-Time.
Carefully, she placed the first of many devices. Absolute precision was called for but they had a strict timetable to follow. What would’ve taken Maggie and Ollie at least 20 minutes to setup; she had done in under a minute. Knowing there was no room for error, she took another minute to double-check each position.
Surfacing back into the normal time stream, she signaled it was ready. Picking up the heavy socket wrench designed for her hands, Val attached it to the fitting that served as the door’s key. It was designed be turned by a heavy machine driven shaft, but she could do it by brute force. Ready, she waited for her partners to give her the sign to begin.
Maggie held her hand up as one by one her indicators on her handset turned green. As it dropped, Val started turning. She saw Ollie’s eyes widen at her display of strength. When he’d known her as Vroom, she’d been stronger than any human. On her own, she had the might of 2/3s of The Rocketeers. Now, if not for Maggie’s careful design to maximize her power, she would’ve snapped the custom tool.
Val still took special care, since she now had an additional wild card to worry about, with the new powers she had unwilling inherited. She knew just how strong Lizzie was and combined with her normal supra-strength, it was very possible even this tool designed for the stresses she was putting it to could break. No way did she want anything screwing up this mission that she and Ollie had waited so long for.
She kept a watchful eye on Maggie, as her partner’s instruments were keeping track of the stress of the vault door’s internal components. Val sped up her wrench turning as Maggie urged her on.
They all breathed in relief as the lock disengaged and the door opened. Maggie slipped inside as soon as Val had it open enough. By the time she had it open, her partner had already doubled checked the alarms, and had moved to the coffins. Pushing in the cart, Val quickly unloaded the bladder and it’s accessories. No need for Slow-Time since Maggie needed time to deal with the coffin’s alarms and telltales.
With the pump ready, she began turning the crank. “Who needed a power source when you had her around?” Val grinned to herself. Again, she was thankful of Maggie’s robust design. Like clockwork, they switched to the next coffin as soon as the preserving fluid drained from the first.
While the second was being drained, Ollie and Maggie opened the first one, slipping Ollie’s parent onto the now empty equipment cart. Replacing the alien Gray’s body with the dummy created so long ago by their friends, the coffin was resealed and readied to be refilled.
Checking the clock, they were actually ahead of schedule. Ollie’s other two parents were also quickly recovered, and Val was pumping the preserving fluid back in. Wrapping them in the now empty bladder, she pumped the air out, giving a vacuum seal until they could be dealt with in a manner of Ollie’s choosing.
Dipping back into Slow-Time, she made sure their cleanup was thorough. Closing the door, Val was turning her wrench again. As soon as it clicked shut, Ollie and Maggie were checking their devices again.
By this time, Val was holding her breath. Something always went wrong on these little missions of theirs. Most times, it was minor, but she always felt is was better to get the required bad luck out of the way early. She could sense something not-so-good was building up, but wasn’t sure exactly what.
Driving back into Slow-Time again, she felt the luck almost tugging at her. Usually it was plain if it was going to be good or bad. This was different and Val found herself unable to resist being curious. Drifting lightly in the thick jello-like air of Slow-Time, she went deeper into the Vaults.
Further down the seemingly endless wide hallway, she found herself in front of Vault Number Nine. Remembering this was the one that whatever was in Elevator Shaft six now, she saw a nameplate. Reading it, her heart froze, as the event her luck had foretold became reality.
The rest of the mission was just a daze for her. They were lucky that she wasn’t really needed for anything major for their departure. Ollie implanted false memories in the fallen sentries and they shut the service way door just as the guards were being relieved.
Val found both her lover and her friend giving her strange looks as they figured out something was wrong. It wasn’t until they’d reached the safety of the clubhouse that she couldn’t take it anymore and let the tears fall.
Maggie hugged her, confused, asking, “Val what’s wrong? We got Ollie’s parents out. Why are you crying?”
Ollie just as befuddled, “Please talk to us my friend. We can see that something is gravely wrong. Please let us help.”
It took all of her willpower to choke out, “It’s Gus. Project Looking Glass is in Shaft 6.”
The memory of that terrible day swamped her again in hot burning tears.
Half-aware, she heard Maggie explaining it to Ollie.
“Oh Gawds. I guess the rumors never made it down here. You see Ollie, back in 1989, and it all came out how what really happened to The Rocketeers, it was a real media circus. Wild rumors were flying all over the place. Alan Glenn’s public announcement of his being Vroom and the Senate hearings were how I got involved in all of this.
“People were really upset that kids had been experimented upon and used the way Alan and his family had been, mutants or not. I’d been publicly advocating for mutant rights, and met Alan during the hoopla. Well one of the rumors came from a bunch of conspiracy theorists that claimed that his brother hadn’t died in the explosion. They said that Jeff Fuller had managed to use something called Project Looking Glass to exile Gus Glenn in some kind of other dimension or wormhole like thing. ”
Smoothing her lover’s hair she continued, “Of course, like usual, these people had no proof, just hearsay and innuendo. Perhaps they knew what they were talking about after all.”
Ollie said softly to her, “Val just because it’s Project Looking Glass in the elevator shaft doesn’t mean that it’s Gus.”
Shaking her head as her tears slowed, she disagreed. “No Ollie, it all makes sense. I guess I always knew he had to be alive somehow. It explains why I have everyone's powers but for his and Joyce's. He was after all the first of us to get zapped. Her powers must have went to Gus. Maybe that was why he went insane and changed the way he did. I know I nearly went crazy when I figured it out.
Think about it! This explains everything. Why had they reactivated Meridian and dragged me back here after so many years? Even the simulator programs indicate it. A few of them are against multiple opponents but most have the kids against Leviathan or another single real bad piece of news.”
“Even explains why they have Max’s clones running late night sim sessions versus the same programs. Fine tuning the programs my ass. Getting Laramie’s little army in shape probably in case the kids fail.”
Maggie just looked at her, questioning, as Ollie demanded, “Army? What army?”
“Doc Mac must’ve figured out some way of solidifying Max’s clones. He’s been using the damn zap gun on them. I don’t know for sure how many that’s died. All I know is someone with Lizzie’s powers died.”
Maggie asked her and she couldn’t hide the truth anymore. “How do you know that love?”
In a small voice that let even more tears spill out, she replied, “Because I have her powers now, just like I have my friends‘.”
Drowning in sorrow again, she heard Maggie and Ollie conversing about survivor’s guilt and shifting quantum states.
“Val,,” she heard Maggie say. “You have no reason to hurt so over all of this. None of it’s your fault.”
Angrily digging the barbs of her hurt deep into herself, she retorted, “Why not? Do you have any idea how much I so dearly wanted to be as I am now? A complete woman and not the male that puberty was making me more and more each day?”
Almost howling in her pain she cried, “All that had to happen for that dream to come true was my family and all my dearest friends to kill each other and leave me all alone!
“Ollie I know you can see how much I look like Alice now. I got my desire and I wish to Gawd I hadn’t! Now Gus is coming back, and even if he still isn’t some radioactive rampaging monster, how do you think he’s going to handle what happened?” Breaking down again, more tears came, but Maggie held her, drying them.
Ollie softly replied. “Val, it is true that you resemble Alice, but you still have the same eyes as always. I also can see some of Jeff, as well as the others as well. It wasn’t a curse my friend. I knew them as well as you. If anything, it was a final gift to one they dearly loved. I understand more now about what happened to Jeff and the full tragedy of those events that happened so long ago.
“Now however, we must rest and figure out what is best to do next. We’d planned to see about freeing Big Mac next, but this changes things. The creature that overcame Gus is indeed terrible, but not for one moment do I want you to believe that Gus would’ve willing done the horrible things that creature did. No more than that poor tortured man, cursed with being Leviathan, would he do such things of his own volition.
“I was here that day too. We both know what triggered Gus’s involuntary changes. Within us all are terrible dark places. It is our strength of character that determines how we deal with it. Your brother, my friend, didn’t have that choice as they ripped his control from him and released his black ID to wreak its havoc. That creature is more than capable of destroying this base and much more. We’re all at risk from its fury as well as any who cross its path.
“I have no idea what the General’s plan is, but letting the children face what we fear is coming is out of the question,” the Gray stated.
Big Mac voice answered from the speaker above them. “I believe I can at least partially answer that question. I do have access to the financial records from a group of contractors doing work at one of the nearby ranges.
“They laid a large grid of grounded conductive cabling and pipes. The system pumps a highly conductive gel. The substance is very heat resistant as well as having radioactivity damping properties. Along with a trolley rail system that’s been listed as completed, I believe Dr. McClellan means to transport, what we now know is Project Looking Glass, to this range. Then use Project Meridian to keep the former Capt. Blazzar trapped within until he is weakened enough to no longer maintain his energy form.” The AI concluded.
Ollie thought for a moment and replied, “In theory that might work, but it does assume that he can be weakened by such measures, and that it would result in his transforming back to himself. What do you think Val?”
Drying her tears, she looked up. “Gus did tire, and needed to rest to recharge those energy blasts of his. At least he did before Doc zapped all of us that last time. As for the kids stopping him, maybe. If Josh’s power can affect Gus, we have a way of blinding him, and with Malak’s magnetic force-screens, we have of a way of protecting against his blasts. So if they work together and support each other, it is possible.
“However with us not knowing any real facts, and with his being able to explode like a nuke, I give it a good chance some or all wouldn’t be walking away. There is no way except over my dead body that I’ll let them face Gus. If it has to be done, then me and whoever volunteers, but not the kids.”
Val smiled sadly, her eyes still red from crying. “I would say I’d do it alone, but I know better. You’ll just follow anyways. Smarter to plan the best we can using available resources. That way you won’t remind me how much of an idiot I tried to be for the next decade or two by attempting it by myself,” she said with a lopsided grin.
Maggie quirked an elegant eyebrow in response as she replied, “See, you have learned something in the twenty years we’ve been together. We do need to have another talk about what being truthful means. Ollie and I will check out how to move Big Mac tomorrow. I don’t think any of us are in shape to do any more tonight. When we have him secured we’ll make our escape.”
Nodding his agreement Ollie added, “I’ll send some of my remotes up the silo to make sure we can use the Rocket to escape and give it a good overhaul. It will be a tight fit but all of us can make it. We should go as soon as we can. Undoubtedly, you are correct when you surmise that they are still planning to use the Z-Ray on the children. With such a threat as Gus they wouldn’t dare not to use every resource.”
Val sniffled. “Saturday after the kid’s morning checkups. We can act as if we’re being rebellious and making another run to Dad’s. They should buy we’re celebrating after that week of sims. With a little luck that’ll give us a head start on any pursuit.”
Maggie smiled making refinements to their plan. “We can make for where I stashed the Family Car. It has a chameleon canvas and if we’re creative should be big enough to conceal even something as big as your Buggy.”
Looking up with a little of her old twinkle in her eyes, she asked amazed, “You brought the Car?
Smiling back her lover nodded, “Of course I did. I packed everything I could think of into it including our heavy combat rigs. I figure once there we could lie low until Ollie can take his ride and sneak off to Paradise. We’ll be near enough to respond whenever your brother makes his appearance and have the gear available to do something about it.”
Val, despite the shocks of the night, couldn’t help giving them a true devil may care grin. “Maggie you’re a treasure! That reminds me. I need to show you something Doc Mac cooked up for me when I used to be Vroom. It is almost certainly bugged and trapped five ways from Sunday, but the concept is a killer.”
Chapter 37
Tonopah, NV
Friday 26, 2008
ETWF: Minus 6 Days
Andrea dropped the greasy bag of fast food she was carrying in utter shock. ULTIMATE’s training academy may teach one how to be nonchalant in the face of danger, but bumping into him in a Micky Dees in Tonopah, NV wasn’t one of them. Somehow she kept her mouth from gaping open as, startled, he bent over to help her pick up her bag. Andrea found herself looking into those sky blue eyes as he smiled apologetically at her.
His file never mentioned how charismatic he was nor just how deep those blue eyes were. Peter Savitskiy. Peter the Great, Colonel in the Zolotoye-Yablochkoian Army stood before her dressed in possibly the loudest Elvis themed shirt she’d ever seen, with baggie shorts and flip-flops in front of the Yellow Arches.
“Excuse me miss.,” he said, smiling, in English without a trace of his origins.
Her vapor-locked brains somehow managed to identify that he spoke with the same soft southern accent as Alan Glenn. Andrea despite her surprise picked out at least three others with him. All were tall, broad and were obviously with Peter from their mirth at his clumsiness. Their seemingly good-humored joking, at odds with the careful way their eyes kept watch.
That sobered Andrea up fast. Peter the Great being here was one thing, but his being here with what was very likely an entire supra-special operations team was entirely something else. Forcing herself not to give the game away by showing that she’d recognized him, she hid her eyes, stammering an apology and hurried off.
Laughter behind her, gave her some assurance she wasn’t seen as a threat. While she wanted to run to her Hummer, she restrained her instincts. It was very important that she not give the slightest clue she was anything more than another customer of which billions and billions had been sold to.
By the time she’d walked around the corner, Andrea had come up with a plan of sorts. The inspector needed to know about this at once and she didn’t even dare to call, not with news like this! Fortunately, Rodger, who’d stayed in the Hummer so they could keep the A/C running in the burning hot Mojave noon sun, had picked up that she’d gone around the corner and followed.
Slipping inside the relative coolness, she ignored Rodger’s questioning glance. Smiling up at him, Andrea asked, “You had the Double Quarter with cheese right?”
Shrugging Rodger took it as just another screwed up part of this mission. Like the old joke about mushrooms, fed a lot of crap and kept in the dark. That said it perfectly. Rodger wasn’t the least surprised that he was asked to go away once they got back to their hotel room command post. Damn but he’d be glad when this job was over.
Breathless, his assistant dropped the grease-stained bag of American fast food upon his table. Philippe looked up at her over his glasses at the rudeness. He stopped as she ripped the bug detector from its case and checked the room. He closed the file he’d been working on and cleared his mind. She never would act so unless she was certain something of tremendous import was at state.
As she finished checking the room for surveillance, he asked, “Andrea, I take it that you have something of importance to tell me?”
She nodded breathlessly. “Yes sir. I just saw Peter Savitskiy and three others, whom I believe to be part of a team of some sort, at the Mickey Dees here in Tonopah. I came right back here. I don’t think they made me.
The inspector sat back considering the news. Then he rose, gathering his shoulder holstered weapon, and jacket. “Well done, Andrea. I think I’m going out for some air.”
Looking back at the disgusting greasy brown bag, he tried to avoid wincing. “Give mine to Rodger.”
She looked up at him concerned. “Are you sure you want to go alone, sir?”
Philippe sighed. What he had in mind could be considered treasonous. His career was nearly over and there was no reason to risk ending hers that was just beginning. He replied, “I’ll be fine. Trust me,” he said with a grin. In truth if Peter Savitskiy was here, it would take a lot more than the scant resources he had here to deal effectively with the situation.
Getting the keys and finding a place to park the oversized auto took him longer than the actual drive there to the American fast-food franchise. Because he knew Andrea would’ve objected to him leaving it, he'd taken his weapon with him. Taking his shoulder harness and jacket off, he left it in the truck. It wouldn’t make any difference for what was about to happen anyways. It was more important that he appear as nonthreatening as possible.
Stepping out, he felt eyes upon him almost at once. The large black American Hummer was anything but inconspicuous. Andrea was correct. It did look as if their friend Peter was here with a team. He counted four of them. Three seated with him, but another small dark man was at a nearby table positioned to watch the other entrance.
Approaching the table, the Frenchman thought back to the many other confrontations like this one that had occurred in the course of his career. The difference was usually he’d plenty of backup if he’d needed it. However the very organization he'd worked for had lost his trust and respect. Trust was a precious commodity, for when it was lost it was rarely recovered.
“Peter, imagine meeting you here,” Inspector Philippe Imbert greeted the supra-normal mutant.
Turning to face him, Peter showed no sign of surprise or recognition. “Do I know you?” he asked in idiomatic English.
Smiling the inspector replied, “You don’t remember me? I must admit it was years ago, but I couldn’t forget ever meeting you and your sister. Such a charming young lady, but always getting into such trouble! I seem to recall that she’s recently moved nearby. Are you here to visit? The resort she’s at is quite exclusive and very hard to reach.
“Now that I think about it, I do believe that another young lady was looking for her too. So pretty, you would think she was a model. Personally, I don’t see what the attraction is to these dry climes. Ah well, I’ll soon be retired back to France, while my comrades are conducting exercises out here in the sand. Just as well for these old bones are far too old for such things.
“You would think that so many young men and women like yourselves would be content to play the games of chance in the infamous City of Sin, but alas I sometimes think that all games are pointless.” Philippe could see those so intelligent eyes evaluating every word.
Peter sought, “Well…” at a loss for his name.
The burly man at the table made up the lack, “Phillipe Imbert.”
Giving him a smile, the Inspector nodded. “Exactly.”
Peter continued, “Well Philippe you know how it is. We would much rather be enjoying those games you spoke of, but unfortunately my sister is not there, but here. Honestly while this is an interesting place to visit, I would much rather be home and not be playing any games at all.”
Philippe smiled again. “Please excuse me for interrupting your lunch and enjoy your visit. Be careful. I understand some really bad weather is set to roll in the next few days. Real acts of Gawd, right out of the Bible.” With that, he turned and left.
Pyotr gave a nod, and as one, they all got up, dumping the remains of their meals in one of the trashcans by the door. Without a word, they climbed into their rented van. As soon as they were all aboard, he gave Bob a look fit to kill. “What just happened and who was that?”
The burly intelligence expert wiped sweat from his brow. “That was Inspector Philippe Imbert, the senior ULTIMATE investigator assigned to looking into your sister’s activities for the last several years.
Bob shrugged at Pyotr’s piercing glare. “I know and understand why what she’s been up to has been kept a very close secret. However, given the number of refugees she sent to us, you know people would be curious. For that matter, I’m one of the many she and her partner have rescued as well as our liaison to their Underground Railroad network.”
“With a raised eyebrow he asked Pyotr, “You do know that many of us rescued call the two of them Angels? Tech-Witch is ULTIMATE's code-name for your sister’s lover, but hers? The Inspector’s name for her is Athena while the official code name for her is Kali.”
Humorously he turned to Arghun, “I’ll bet you’d no idea that you were asking someone with such an amazing trinity of names to disrobe.”
The little dark man’s white teeth flashed in the dark tinted windowed van. “Ah! But the goddess was merciful and graced me with her blessing. Did she not proclaim to the world that I was a mighty warrior and a lover beyond compare?”
Ivan, curious, asked in a deep rumble, “How did your public, hmmm… display make you think that?”
Still grinning Arghun replied, “Because my large friend, only a mighty warrior could’ve walked away so attired before such an assembly of heroes without fighting for his very life. As for my talents as a lover, did she not herself name me so?”
“Somehow I think you’re being over optimistic, ‘Hunk-A of Burning Love’.” Ivan grinned back at the dark little man.
Pyotr waited for their banter to end before asking the question he knew most of them were waiting for. “So why aren’t we fighting for our lives right now?”
Bob shrugged again. “At a guess, I would have to say politics and an honest man. You see the Inspector is of the old school. He truly believes in justice and perhaps more importantly both sides of his family fought in the French resistance. From what he said about his upcoming retirement, I would say he was more concerned about doing what was right than a gold watch and a handshake.
“In not so many words, he also warned of significant ULTIMATE forces in the area. That, we were aware of already. What we didn’t know was the games that he hinted at. Exactly what is going on, I don’t know. I can only once again guess that whatever it is, he strongly disagrees with it.
“What I found most alarming was his warning about the weather. Since nothing unusual is forecast, I’m guessing he was alluding to whatever Valentina is mixed up in. I don’t think he knew any details but he fears it could be big.” Thinking about the inspector’s words a moment, he added, “Really Big.”
Pyotr sighed. He knew none of this was Val’s fault. It could not have been prevented, but that luck of hers got her into some of the most peculiar situations sometimes. “Yes, I got that too. It seems that my sister is sitting right in the middle of some onrushing calamity while everyone else is watching to see what happens.
“Trying to penetrate their security under such circumstances will be risky at best. Escaping afterwards will be even more difficult given the resources available for them to pursue,” he stated, for everyone’s benefit.
Seeing their nods, he continued. “As much as I very much want to go now before all this worsens, we’re just not ready. We’re not supposed to receive our equipment before tomorrow and have very little hard information about the installation. To complicate things, with all of these players in the area the odds of us being recognized again is very high.”
I think our best chance is to continue traveling to the next large city and to prepare to rough it in the field. By spreading our purchases around, we should avoid suspicion. Then we‘ll return and meet our contacts for the rest of our equipment.”
Bob started the van moving, while they started making the lists of supplies they needed and splitting up tasks. Pyotr closed his eyes, trying not to worry about Val and the increasingly bad news, as they got closer to her.
September 26, 2008
Area 61 Administration section
Maggie carefully replaced yet another PC access panel after gutting its insides for components. There were going to be a lot of unhappy IT guys come Monday morning. She pushed herself along on her purloined skateboard to the next workstation. Ollie’s workshop was a marvel considering what he had to work with. However, building a unit to house an AI was beyond it. Just the sheer number of memory modules necessary was staggering.
Getting the parts meant risking a raid on Area 61’s administration section. The good news was, after getting a peek at Big Mac, she was able to visualize the type of interface she needed. With her powers, assembling the device would take just an instant, but first she had to get those parts. The only source was Area 61 itself, and with it being after working hours on Friday night, hopefully her theft would go unnoticed until Monday morning. By then, they would’ve flown the coop.
However that meant she had to assemble Big Mac’s rescue unit tonight, right at the last minute. Like any tech, Maggie would’ve much rather had more time to test it, but the AI’s escape had to happen tonight. Time was getting too short.
Val was guessing that General Laramie would try to expose the kids on Sunday morning. Saturday was too obvious, even though they would try to be ready regardless. No, Sunday because of the General’s fixation on history, so he could pull a Pearl Harbor on them. He knew that they partied on Saturday night and wouldn’t be at their best the next morning. Perhaps he even planned to gas them all as they slept. Whatever it was, they should be long gone if all went well.
Maggie was almost happy for the hectic work for it took her mind off Val. She’d known that her lover had gained enormous power at the expense of her friends’ lives, but hadn’t known that in some way Val was still connected to that damn device. As best as they could determine, earlier subjects of this Z-Gun thing that had died hadn’t caused anything unusual to happen to her. More than one of those experimented upon had died, but when Jeff Fuller had committed suicide Val had known immediately.
It’d been like pulling teeth but according to Val, it’d been like being zapped by Dr. McClellan all over again. She’d even gotten ill like she did from the radiation from the real thing. However the most recently, the shadow, as she called it, was far less intense. Until Maggie said something, Val hadn’t even been aware of that glow.
If it was up to her she would blow the damn thing up herself, but she was well aware of the self-destruct device under the base. She couldn’t get close enough to it to defuse it even with her powers, and she had to assume that whoever would be manning the button at the other end had to be a raving paranoid fanatic. Failing that, being on the other side of the planet would have to do. Maybe Zolotoye-Yablochko was surround by enemies, but at least there, they would be among friends.
Reaching the next workstation, she removed the cover while her TK found the parts she needed. Pulling them out and adding them to the rest. She rolled on the next. The security about Big Mac was a breeze compared to the Vaults. Ollie and Maggie would take care of this one while Val was still recovering from the news her brother was in some form still alive. Maggie was just grateful that this time tomorrow would find them far from here.
Chapter 38
Saturday September 27, 2008
Area 61
Billie sighed as she looked unhappily into her bathroom mirror. It was time for him to come back. She’d taken to changing to Billie after classes were over for the day and then back to Bill the next morning. She found that she really enjoyed being able to dress in the pretty things in her closet. Even more, she loved the attention and help she received from Amanda and Malak.
Her gloomy expression faded into a smile. Okay she admitted, although Amanda had become perhaps her best friend, Malak was perhaps even more. Just spending time with her, talking and laughing made her happy in way she’d never experienced before.
A little startled Billie looked down at herself. She was uncertain how she felt about her, ung… reaction. Even if she could move things around down there so she looked like a real girl, she wasn’t. It did feel good, but getting hard down there rather than wet didn't seem right somehow.
Dr. McClellan and Dr. Hathaway had been fascinated by her ability to look like a girl, but their tests had shown that was all. It was only the appearance and none of the actual function. Billie had learned to stretch and distort her pliable form into a multitude of different shapes. However, no matter how malleable her body was, she could never really be a girl.
Today was testing day, so maybe she’d get a chance to ask one of the doctors about other options. Most of the adults had been okay with her being Billie but a few of them were not. She could tell by their eyes even if most did make a token effort to hide their disgust.
Well at least since today was indeed testing day, it was only a half-day and then she could be Billie for the rest of the weekend. Taking a deep breath, she let herself flow back into him.
Bill with his shoulders slumped forward went to dress in the boy stuff.
Breakfast was a little subdued, because even the normally cheerful Mr. Glenn was still feeling down. Oh, he still acted the same with his devil-may-care grin, but Bill could tell he hadn’t been same the last few days. Yesterday, he had hinted that they might be having another adventure in the Rocketeers’ team saucer. Bill did not have a problem with that. Dad’s burgers were great and after a week of this nasty stuff, they were all ready for some real food.
Bill found himself gently touching his teacher’s hand to get his attention. Not sure what he was doing, he asked with his eyes if the person inside, Val, that joyous dancing spirit, was alright.
Josh and Malik kinda stared at him because that just wasn’t the sorta stuff guys do. He ignored them, because this was important. This complicated person who was both Alan Glenn and Val had helped him discover Billie and that was a priceless gift that could never be repaid. Perhaps like Val had said, ‘It could only be paid forward.’
Still with that grin, Mr. Glenn tousled Bill’s hair, but he didn’t miss that wink his teacher had slipped in. With his usual energy, he chivvied them off to the labs. “Alright, everyone! It’s time for your favorite activity of the week! Go feed the Vampires, and make the guys in the white coats happy by spinning their hamster wheels.”
Malak grabbing Bill’s hand distracted him immediately. Blushing, he gave her a wide-eyed stare. She just laughed and dragged him along as Lizzie seeing the game wanted to play too. She took his other hand and start pulling too. Soon they were all giggling, with Josh and Malik rolling their eyes as the two of them bought up the rear.
Alan watched them go with his fingers crossed. He didn’t think Doc Mac and Lying-To-Me-Laramie had any double-crossing in mind for today, but they were in the danger zone where it could happen.
The kid’s had completed the teamwork simulations and yesterday’s last few runs were worrying. They’d been fighting this thing codenamed Kiloton that was far too much like what Gus had transformed into. Truthfully, Alan couldn’t say just what Gus’s monster was like since he’d been unconscious from almost the start.
What the simulation technicians had thrown at them was nothing but bad news. Standing about eight feet tall, the vaguely man-shaped glowing blob of energy was unbelievably dangerous. Electrical arcs flew all over the place, while a touch from the creature was hot enough to melt steel and bright enough to burn afterimages into your eyes.
The first time, the kids got waxed before they’d even known what’d happened. Alan helped them after that and since he’d already been thinking about how to handle Gus or Kiloton, he’d had some tactics in mind. He really wished Val and Maggie could try out this Sim but that was impossible. The computer kept records of everything. Given time, no doubt, Maggie could have it jumping hoops, but not in the time they had.
His sharp eyes had picked out traces that the simulators were used again last night. Probably, Max’s clones, that Doc had made solid somehow, were being put though their paces. It was definitely time to get the kids out of here while they still could. Watching the kids and the Sim the last few times had given him some ideas how to approach Kiloton and that would have to do.
Alan let out a deep breath as the doors shut behind them. Because they were in the danger zone, he’d kept himself charged with all of his powers. Because of that, he didn’t dare go anywhere near Doc Mac or the labs with all of their equipment. He didnt' think that Doc could pick up his 'fully armed and operational' status without a detailed examination, but he’d found out the hard way too many times about underestimating Doc Mac.
Speaking of which, he had no idea what to do about Max or those children. Alan was certain the big convict had no inkling what Doc had been up to with those examinations of those clones. If and when Max did find out, Alan had a feeling it wouldn’t be at all pretty. Max was a head case of the first water, but he had his reasons.
Ollie jerked him back to the present. “Alan I am picking an unusual amount of unease this morning.”
Alan was instantly on his guard. “Do you think Laramie stole a march on us? Are the kids being moved to the amphitheater?”
He could almost see his Alien friend’s shrug. “I don’t know. Someone might have simply discovered Maggie’s thefts from last night, or that Big Mac is not at home anymore. There are any number of things that could cause this disturbance.”
While they’d been talking, Alan had made an 180 back towards the labs, but then had relaxed a smidgen. Coming around the corner was ole General Lying-To-Me Laramie dressed as if he’d just come off the golf course.
“Relax the Condition Red, Ollie,” he told his friend. “I just found the General and he looks as if someone dragged him in here away from his golf game. If any of this were planned, he’d be in his dress uniform just like for a parade. Alert Maggie, but I think it‘s alright.”
Strolling forward casually, he opened his senses when he saw the phone in the General’s hand, wanting to get a clue about what was up. It started slowly, a feeling of apprehension and disquiet that moved into anxiousness. Alan almost stumbled as he recognized his luck singing out that a bad moon was rising.
After more than thirty years, he still had no better idea of what to expect. Were the General and his aides going to jump him, or maybe he was going to get some very unpleasant news? At any rate, he needed to find out what was happening. They had to get the kids out of here. There was just no way, he was going to let Doc and Lying-To-Me frak up another group of children’s lives.
As much as he wanted to just breakout of this joint, he knew that somewhere out there was a freaked out full blown case of paranoia with their finger on the firing button of that nuke under their feet. Alan had far too much contact with these people to think that they wouldn’t blow them all to atoms. The kids were living proof that the US of A had broken not one but several international treaties. Not to mention that having a head start while trying to outrun the entire US military would be nice.
He overheard the General say, “I don’t care if those bastards are ULTIMATE or not. They will stay out of my, AO, Area of Operations! Tell the interceptor boys that if they have to get radar locks to make the dumb SOBs get the idea that we will shoot their asses out of the sky, then do it.”
The voice on the other end of the conversation was clearly at his wits end. “That’ll work against those drop-ships, but you damn well know that it won’t slow down those SPAD Air to Space fighters. I’ll need authorization for the release of the F-19s.”
Laramie growled back, “If that’s what you need, you’ll get it. Just keep them out my No Fly Zone and out of my hair!”
Alan was almost abreast of the General’s little party of aides and brown-nosers, when Laramie turned and looked right at him. His luck was all but mourning doom now. Expecting bad news Alan gave him an iron stare right back.
He felt the shock as those implants Doc had placed within him sent their surge of drugs into his body. 'But Maggie had disabled them,’ he thought, as his legs failed and he tumbled to the floor.
Alan fighting his fading consciousness could still hear. “Yes, Dr. McClellan, you were correct. His implants had been disabled somehow, however your backup activation worked as you promised. Congratulations. Now excuse me, but I need to get back into uniform. No need to wait for me. You may begin the final phase of Meridian when ready.”
He couldn’t think clearly but somehow he reached for Ollie. Alan felt his friend trying to find out what’d happened, as he finally lost his battle and darkness claimed him.
Maggie’s heart turned to ice within her as Ollie told her of her lover. But she had disabled those damn things implanted in him. Somehow, there’d been something that she’d missed and now he was unconscious. They’d been wrong and underestimated both McClellan and Laramie. She’d screwed up. The children were being moved to be exposed to that Z-Ray thing while just what they were planning to do to Alan was still unknown.
She wasn’t any kind of hothouse flower nerd, and if push came to shove, she could likely break them all out. But. Yeah but. To do so would mean using her powers to cause all the machines and electronics down here in this pit to run amok. Precisely the very sort of thing that would freak out whoever controlled that damn nuke under their feet. Even with Ollie’s help, she didn’t think there was anyway to do this without making things worse.
The little alien was a study. He’d been preparing to leave the only home he’d known for almost 60 years. He’d a vest that was full of needful things along with a purloined suitcase of other keepsakes.
Without words or telepathy, the glance they exchanged told each other that they’d come to the same conclusion. As much as they both wished otherwise, there was nothing they could do.
Ollie sent sadly to her, “I understand, but for now we can do nothing but wait. While the children are in danger, we must trust that Dr. McClellan’s calculations are correct and they will survive. I’m more concerned about Alan. He is of no further use to them, and is held in great disdain by General Laramie. I fear he is in great peril.”
Maggie nodded having come to the same conclusion. The sanctity of life was of little value to people like these. From the beginning of this affair, she was growing quite tired of all of this. It was institutions and people just like these that’d caused her to devote herself to her quest so many years before. There was a helluva lot of payback due, and if anything bad happened to her dear lover and companion, having a nuke go off under their feet would be the least of these people’s problems.
Lizzie nodded sleepily as the nurse took some blood. Because of her force-screenie thingie was on all the time, they used sleepy stuff in the air so they could stick her with needles. She didn’t much like it, but the older girls had helped her deal with it. Besides after this was over, she was sure Mr. Glenn was gonna have a nice treat for them.
She thought they were going to take blood out but instead had something flowing in from a bag on a hat-rack thing. Someone told her it was all part of the test for today, but she really didn’t like that. It made it really hard to think. Only half-aware, she was pushed down the hallway.
Trying to make her eyes focus, Lizzie thought she’d stopped moving. Wherever she was it was really big and empty except for this huge thing hanging from the ceiling right above her. Another adult whispered in her ear that they were going to take some pictures like in an x-ray and she needed to be really still. If she was a good girl, they would make sure she got a big bowl of ice cream.
Everyone left, but just like they told her to, she tried to be real still. Then these red lights starred flashing while a very loud voice began counting backwards. Five, four, three, two, one.
She screamed as the universe tried to drown her in pure liquid light.
Dr. Courtney Hathaway watched as Alan Glenn was wheeled in on a gurney. Her part in this was almost over. Project Hydra was moving on to Phase C where her involvement was much reduced. The now 19 children had their new personalities in place and now would need only tweaking to iron any unexpected developments. They were doing sims now, placed into two teams of 6, one of 4 and one final one of three with all males.
She’d tried once more to get this portion of Project Meridian canceled. Courtney had been there when the Maxi-Lizzie clone had undergone a full power exposure. It'd killed her. Watching that little girl mutate into a form so bizarre that she couldn’t even describe it, was something Courtney was never going to forget. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore that they, the clones, weren’t human, feeling the pain and despair coming from her. Going over General Laramie and Dr. McClellan’s heads, she had appealed directly to OAR’s Director.
Courtney sighed. All her efforts to save the children, yes children, not subjects, had done was get her demoted back to looking after Alan Glenn once again. The technicians were hooking him up to the complex machine that would map out the regions of his brain that held the last few weeks of memories and burn them out.
This was a living reminder of why she had sacrificed so much for power, so that she wouldn’t end up where he was now. Examining him, trying to put her feelings aside, he was wearing that same scuffed jacket he had worn that day weeks ago when she had first met him.
Touching it, her eyes snapped wide open. Since the very beginning, she’d been able to read nothing about this enigmatic man until now. Her ability to read feelings and emotions from objects was always one of her least reliable, but what this single touch told her was all but impossible.
The jacket told many stories of cars and races and those who loved them. It recounted of the passionate person who’d survived so much pain but was ardently determined to keep such from taking place again. A person who had feminine passions as well as a woman’s heart and soul.
Many things that’d baffled her about him became clearer. It explained why she had problems understanding him and of why their vibes simply didn't match. As well as why the children had grown so close to this male who defended them. Standing there lost in thought as the last connections were made she came to a decision.
“We’re ready Doctor,” the head tech told her.
She nodded, “I’ll do it.” Walking over to the console, she smiled distracting everyone as her telekinesis secretly changed the machines' settings. “Goodnight Mr. Glenn, I hope it was good for you too,” she said, with much the same sarcastic tone as he so often used upon her.
One of the tech sniggered, but it was said for their benefit. Sending to him telepathically, hoping he would remember, she whispered, “They wanted you to forget all of this, but I think that I’ve prevented that. Godspeed Alan Glenn, whoever, whatever you are. ”
Many rooms away a small Gray Alien worrying for his friends and future sat up, hearing a message meant for another. Quickly he sent Maggie a message that all was well and her intervention would not be required to save their friend. To himself, he marveled again at this primitive yet so complicated species. Perhaps there was hope for them all after all.
To be continued.
The Great Escape Begins!
Malik screamed as his body arched from shock and pain. The heavy restraints groaned as he fought with all his strength to escape the agony that thundered into him from that machine suspended above him.
It was just suppose to be another test, like so many others they’d all suffered through the last few weeks. They’d given him something that made him kinda floaty and relaxed, saying that it was better he be conscious than asleep; something about getting better results. But by that time, the drugs were already doing their thing.
He’d been feeling no pain when they’d wheeled him into that huge stadium-like room. Maybe this test was like a x-ray, he mused, as red lights started flashing and a voice started a countdown. At Zero the agony began.
Conscious thought left him. It wasn’t like the pain from injuries he had while playing sports before his mutation. This was as if he was being torn apart and examined from his bones to the very thoughts in his head. Even the things he’d even hidden from himself or forgotten were all ripped to pieces and studied.
However the worse of it was that it went on and on, seemingly forever.
The next thing he remembered was yanking himself upward, shivering in shock, the tattered remains of the bands and steel still fastened to him where he ripped them free.
Forcing his mind to work, he saw they were all still in the labs in one of the wards. He heard a girl’s scream that was lost in a screech of tortured steel being torn. Lizzie, his brains tried to tell him. A scared, frightened Lizzie who’d been through the same thing he had. Hands shaking he tore the remains of his own restraints from him. Malik wasn’t sure what had been done to them, but no one wanted that powerful little girl going into a berserk tantrum.
Stumbling to his feet, he had to help her. He steadied himself as a wave of nausea passed though him. Fighting off the urge to gag he stood by pure willpower. Still shaking, he promised himself something afterwards. He would find out just what in the hell had happened, and perhaps he would be having a tantrum of his own.
Amanda cried out, waking from the terrible nightmare that had no end. Her stomach was in knots, and she needed to void herself, now. However she was tied down. The constant light breezes that had bedeviled her ever since her change now howled around her like a tornado.
“Hold on Girlfriend” a familiar voice shouted over the storm.
Suddenly she was free and, appeased, the winds slackened. Limply she slumped to the floor, trying not to spew. On all fours Amanda weakly looked up. She saw two scientists cowering in the corner. What in the hell had happened?
Then Malak, supported by her magnetic power, eased down next to her. Sweat covered her friend and her pale face was even whiter. Whispering she suggested, “Let’s get to that sink before we both make a bigger mess.”
Nodding, Amanda pulled herself up. Feeling her girlfriend’s power help support her she hoarsely gasped, “Thanks.”
Malak weakly nodded back, obviously fighting off her own nausea, but somehow they made it before throwing up.
She heard the other of her friends having their own problems. A glance showed Malak’s brother tearing himself free of the reinforced bed they had him tied down to. Even though he looked ill too, the muscular teen ripped the straps from him as if they were no more than wet paper.
A scream and explosion of bed parts shifted her attention. Lizzie! She looked as sick as the rest of them. “Mr. Glenn, Vroom,” she cried in her misery.
She gave Malak the same look Amanda knew was on her face. “Oh Shit!”
Still bent over the sink trying not to heave again, they both knew that pint sized potential natural disaster had to be seen to now.
Stumbling, the girls headed that way, using the other beds to help them stand. This was all humbling, given since her life had changed, this was the first time she’d felt anyway other than energetic and healthy. That thought brought back the Nightmare. Every nasty thing she’d ever done to anyone or anything had been pulled out of her and thrust in front of her face.
Shaking her head, Amanda pushed those memories away. There was no time for that right now. Malik was already moving to help Lizzie like she and Malak were. Josh was still strapped down, but Billie had oozed out of hers like climbing out of a sleeping bag.
“Shhh honey,” she tried to calm Lizzie.
The smaller girl, crying and spewing, herself, had crushed one of those huge metal medicine cabinet things.
Amanda stopped, unsure what to do. Lizzie needed to be hugged and consoled, but sick she might hurt them, as strong as she was.
Billie solved that by throwing herself into the distressed 6 year old's arms. “It’s alright now Lizzie. Everything's going to be fine.”
Both she and Malak winced as the little girl turned and grabbed onto the stretchable teen with all her heart. Billie’s eyes bulged from those same arms that had trashed the heavy bed meant to hold the strongest people alive, but not once did she complain.
Not wasting a moment they too were soon hugging and comforting the sick child.
Malik seeing how the girls had everything in hand had found a small trashcan to relieve his own problem.
She was half-aware that Dr. Hathaway had come in and was explaining something about bad drug reactions, but Amanda was too lost in her own and her friends pain and illness.
“Amanda,” Ollie sent to her, “It’s alright. Don’t let the Doctor know I’m talking with you all. I’ll explain what’s really happened."
“What’s happened to Mr. Glenn? He wouldn’t let them do something like this to us?” she thought back at the Gray.
Still in the group hug she listened to the castaway alien as he explained.
Chapter 39
Monday September 29, 2008
Area 61
“Alan,” a voice cried out to her. She didn’t want to listen to anyone wanting to talk to him. But the safe dark place was growing lighter now and the places to hide were growing harder to find. Val knew that she would need to wake and to be him again. She also remembered it’d been her own choice to go back to being him. It’d been the only way to try to bring justice to those who’d caused her such heartache and pain.
“Alan,” it said again. The light was brighter now and the concealing shadows were fading away. He had always been something to hide behind. In her heart, she guarded her true self. When Justice had not been forthcoming, she’d taken it upon herself to help. To help all those, who like the ones she’d loved so dearly, had been besieged by the unscrupulous who twisted the laws for their own ends.
“Alan,” thrice it called. Unwillingly she put herself behind The Him, and pulled herself awake. “Yeah, I’m awake Mom. I don’t wanna go to school.”
Ollie replied dryly, “I’m not your mother, but please keep yourself calm. You must pretend to be still asleep while I explain what has happened. Your implants had some kind of fail-safe activation sequence. General Laramie used it to knock you out last Saturday.”
“Well that explains why my head is killing me. At least I’m not the only one who underestimated Doc. How long have I been out?” Alan asked.
“Two days,” Ollie answered.
Remembering Saturday, a cold shiver ran down his back. Trying to remain still he asked, “The kids! Are they okay?”
Alan could hear Ollie’s mental sigh, “With you unconscious, Maggie and I didn’t dare try to interfere. They were exposed to the Z-Ray, but have suffered no lasting ill effects. They have all recovered and are fine. What concerns us is you. They had you hooked up to a machine that was to erase your memories of the last few weeks. For some reason beyond us, Dr. Hathaway intervened. It is imperative that you play along and pretend you still think it is the first of September.”
Alan gave a mental nod, sighing. They’d failed to save the kids from getting zapped by Doc, but at least it seemed they’d survived. Doc, had outwitted Maggie, but what galled him was that Laramie of all people had outfoxed him. “Alright what’s happening right now?” he asked.
“Security is very unhappy my friend,” Ollie answered. “They found nearly every computer in the administration section stripped of parts. In our favor, no one has discovered that Big Mac has lost his personality. Apparently he started some kind of cover for himself by arguing with his handlers that if they just wanted him to be ‘a dumb, stupid computer so that will be what they will get‘. This is not the first time he has been difficult, so his ruse should buy us some time.
“However once they start putting the pieces together it won’t take them long to figure out our little puzzle. Then we will have a problem. Big Mac’s escape will have them searching every square millimeter of this facility. My precautions and blinds have withstood many years of inspections, but a determined search will reveal the club house and my quarters,” Ollie pointed out.
“Maggie is still upset at herself that she missed the 'backdoor' in your implants. She is working on what happened as well as something else, but is keeping it a secret. The Rocket is prepped and my remotes show that the silo is usable."
"Big Mac’s portable rescue unit is functioning within tolerances, but was meant to be only an electronic lifeboat. It was never intended for long-term use. My parents’ bodies and matrixes are in perfect preservation in their vacuumed formed shrouds.
“The children as I said before are in good health but confused. They all found the experience unnerving, and I’ve been helping them deal with that. Josh and Billie have already surmised what happened and are not happy. As you can imagine Josh is quite angry. At first, it was at you for failing to get them out in time, but now it is at our gracious hosts. Billie was very worried about you, and apprehensive of the Air Force’s plans for them.”
“The immediate problem is finding the opportunity to attempt another escape, but this time without Big Mac’s help with the security systems. You’re under high security and is scheduled to be shipped out soon. The children are being watched very carefully as they are testing their improved abilities,” Ollie concluded.
Aware of all the problems, he said, “I know Ollie, but we have to find a way. We, I, screwed up and we got beat to the punch. Whatever is happening with Project Looking Glass and Kiloton will go down soon. We have to get them out before then.”
Ollie said back, “Kiloton? Not an inappropriate name for the creature. Don’t worry my friend we will find a way out.”
Preparing himself for the role of a lifetime, Alan replied, “I know we will. I just wish right now that I knew just what in the hell it was!”
With that, he opened his eyes and as precisely as he could remember, duplicated the same actions upon waking as he did those weeks ago when he arrived.
Pyotr looked on rather amused as Arghun poured water over his head. The small man had gone out in the desert Saturday as soon as they had arrived at their soon to be base camp. They needed first hand information on conditions around Area 61 and the tough Kazakh was their best scout.
Arghun reported, “The Inspector was correct. The Heavy Assault Brigade is training out here. More important to us is they are aggressively pushing at your dear sister's prison's boundaries. The place has sensors of every type, as well as being carefully patrolled, but with these incursions, their response teams are heavier and include attack aircraft as well as helicopters. They are good Pyotr, but perhaps rely too much on their technology.”
“I think I can find us a path through, but it is going to take me two, maybe three days for me to do so. Our egress could also be a problem. Escaping through the desert would be difficult. It would be too easy for them to cut us off using the roads and aircraft.” Arghun finished, looking at the rest of the team as they worked on checking their equipment and other gear.
Pyotr looked to Bob, who’d been listening. “This does confirm what you’ve told me. I think we will have to risk the use of the Kusbegi to retrieve us. Bob, you and Arghun confer and find us the best place for a Landing Zone, LZ.”
Neither man looked happy because they both knew how chancy it was having a Zolotoye-Yablochko aircraft pick them up on American soil. Whether blessed or cursed, their nation had been involved with bringing down more than their share of the giant Alien Gray bombardment spacecraft. That even included one intact. Though perhaps relatively in one piece might be a better term. Something that big makes landing it a little tough. The good news was it had plenty of the smaller fighter sized saucers on-board.
Much to ULTIMATE’s dismay they’d kept every single nut and bolt they could haul back to their little nation. After all, to the victor go the spoils.
Other nations’ bounty of the Alien tech had been reduced, by one reason or another, as they discovered the myriad uses of having dependable spacecraft that could easily travel from the Earth’s surface to the moon with no more difficulty than a transoceanic flight. Every agency wanted a piece of the pie. The Americans, for instance, had space programs, the Pentagon, and many others all desiring a share.
Zolotoye-Yablochko by contrast had none of those and consequently had more than they could make use of. Given the many geniuses and scientists of questionable sanity that lived there, many of the Alien craft were modified for special purposes. One of those was for special operations support, which was such a vital part of their nation’s defense planning. Naming them Kusbegi, after the renown Kazakh hawker/hunters, they were as stealthy as their re-builders could make them.
As sneaky as the elite Kusbegi pilots were, if they were discovered then 'In the three-ninth kingdom, they would be shown where the lobsters spend winter.' Or as his sister would say, 'if they were found in the land of the free, there would be hell to pay'.
He and Bob had talked about how to justify their actions to the international community if they were discovered, and none of their ideas were appealing. The best one was the truth. The Americans were illegally holding the daughter of the President of Zolotoye-Yablochko and they’d rescued her. That would mean giving up the carefully hidden lie that had protected Pyotr’s extended family from the public and harm. Still, if it kept the diplomatic disaster of being found out, down to reasonable levels, it was a price he knew his father would pay to have his wayward daughter safe.
Still no need to “To make an elephant from a fly,” not yet. Picking up the secure sat-phone, he had some serious explaining and work to do.
Bill slipped through a crack and turned around, marveling that his mutation let him compress himself so thinly. He knew full well what’d caused it. Just like with the Rocketeers long ago, he and the rest of his friends had been 'zapped' as Mr. Glenn called it.
Dr. Hathaway had come in while they were still sick and recovering. She’d told them that they had a bad reaction to some medicine. He hadn’t believed it for a moment. Reading about the Z-Ray in that comic book had made the whole deal seem so corny. He sure didn’t think so now. How do you describe being pulled apart and yet crushed at the same time? And that wasn’t really even close what it’d really felt like. There simply weren’t words for it.
When the Doctor said that Mr. Glenn had been paid and had gone home, Bill knew that once again she was lying to them. He’d been so afraid that something really bad had happened to his teacher that he respected so much. To his relief, Ollie had told them the whole story. That the Air Force had went back on their promise to Mr. Glenn to not use the Z-Ray, but had knocked him out as well as tried to mess up his memories.
They’d all been warned that Mr. Glenn might have to pretend he didn’t know them. Ollie and Mr. Glenn were still looking for a way for them all to get out. He’d been worried that Lizzie wouldn’t understand but she’d taken it in stride. In the meanwhile, they were all being run to death in the labs being tested using that scientific stuff rather than Mr. Glenn's Dojo.
Bill knew he preferred his sensei’s measuring eye over these bozos in the white coats with their clipboards. His friends looked like they liked Mr. Glenn’s way of doing things a lot better too. Lizzie, displaying a rare temper tantrum, had tossed a forklift into the observation booth, after they’d forced her to lift one heavy weight after another. She’d been strong before but now she was like something out of a comic book wearing red and blue.
Considering what he knew about what had been used on them, he was thankful none of them had grown horns or something worse. The only one of them that looked different was Amanda. Her dark hair had grown even longer, all the way to her waist. Of course, like him and Lizzie, all of their powers had grown a lot stronger.
Bill hadn’t believed his own abilities could be increased all that much. All he did was stretch after all. He’d been wrong. Before, he’d gotten harder the more compact he’d made himself and softer the larger. Now he could control how dense he was in any part of himself. He could even lengthen his hair and even change the color now, although he hadn’t let anyone see that yet. That was something he was still experimenting with in private, but he wanted to have an advantage if he needed it.
Josh had a hole card too now. He not only could control what others saw, he now could also see through their eyes. Malik, while he’d not received anything like that, had gotten tougher, a whole lot tougher. The nurses tried to take blood samples and had gotten nothing but bent needles.
He was sure that they would discover more things they’d gotten from the Z-Ray, but Ollie had warned them that the thing in the simulators that they‘d been fighting, Kiloton, was real. That was why Meridian had been brought back and they were supposed to stop it. Bill had turned pale when he’d figured it out. Capt. Blazzar had blown up like a atomic bomb, and he’d read about those guys who thought he’d been imprisoned in something called Looking Glass, like the Phantom Singularity from AC Comics.
Kiloton was just the codename for the monster their teacher’s brother had become. It was kind of fitting seeing the kind of explosions it could make. Bill had kept that part to himself so far. He knew just how powerful that monster had been, but he was also aware that General Laramie and Dr. Hathaway were untrustworthy because they’d repeatedly lied to them.
Moving on to the next test to see how far he could stretch now, he put his doubts aside. Mr. Glenn was still with them and so was Ollie. They would find some way out of this mess.
Master Security Control for Area 61
Location: Top Secret.
All morning they’d been jumping down his throat. Why, the man known as Operative Number 11, didn’t have a clue. They could see the video recordings as well as he could. There was just no damn sign of how someone had broken into Area 61 administration section and ripped off a shit load of computer parts.
Yeah, a couple of hard drives had come up missing, but most of it were memory modules and other components. Number 11 had a feeling that this theft was just a footstep and the real problem hadn‘t been discovered yet. However it was up to the tech boys to look at what had turned up missing and show them where to look.
Their control area was set up much like the old missile silos from the cold war. Two men crews, each with a key, required simultaneous action to activate Wildfire. Screening for the position was tough, but you had to prove you had what it took to push that button if it looked liked the Pandora’s Box that was Area 61 was about to be opened.
They’d been under a lot of pressure the last week or so because something Big was getting ready to happen. It was all too possible that glowing red Balrog eye would be needed. And if so, they would find him ready to do his duty.
Maggie closed her tired eyes. She felt so guilty about her failure to catch that damn backdoor system hidden in her lover’s implants. That was why they were still trapped here. That was why those kids had been irradiated by Gawds knows what, but thank the same Deity that they’d all survived.
The damn thing was devilishly clever. Maggie had went into the implanted device and decided that the best way was to simply bypass the power leading to the drug reservoir pump. That way no one would suspect the thing wasn't fully operational.
What she didn't find was the invisible passive RFID circuity printed right onto her lover's very skin. It was a complete backup copy of the implant lacking only the drugs. What she had thought was only a clever antenna was actually a link between implant and RFID. When Laramie pushed that button, it first tried to activate the one she'd disabled, but it also turned on the second.
It told her a couple of things. One, maybe Ollie's presence down here wasn't as secret as they thought, and two, that device had really only one purpose, to knock out Alan Glenn. Everything else including the tracker was a red herring. And she had completely missed seeing it. Pride does go before the fall.
Before her were the scattered parts of what was to be a gift for her beloved. The design had come from Dr. McClellan's supra-speed-suit. She’d been warned that it would probably be trapped and/or bugged to track the wearer. Her own ego had caused their escape to fail once. There was no way she was going to let it happen again.
Taking the entire thing apart, she found that she’d missed, not one, but several very subtle devices that could cause unwanted effects. One of them was the coating on the armor plates that caused an ionization trail which could be tracked when the wearer reached a certain velocity.
She had to trash the entire thing and started over using the original design only as inspiration. It was undeniably a work of genius, but twisted. She’d been bitten once, it would not happen again, she vowed.
Ollie had assured her that the Buggy was free of such worries, but each of the kids also had a purpose built suit to allow them to get the most from their powers. It was certain that they too were fixed as well. She’d had Big Mac in his box running the simulations for her, looking for surprises. The grateful AI had thanked her for giving it something to do.
Maggie knew she had a temper. Generally, she kept it under control. One of the things that made her and Val’s partnership so effective was how they complemented each other. Her fiery passion and Val’s devotion to justice balanced out nicely. However, there were times she just had to let her inner bitch out. Now was one of those times.
It was easy for her to come up with code as fast as she could think. Maggie had fed it to Big Mac where upon the AI refined it into one truly nasty piece of work. Even as pissed as she was she put in safeties, but until it hit those limits, it was going to do some serious ass-kicking.
She’d already fed in the new final design for her partner’s supra-suit to Big Mac where he was giving it the last run over. One of the things she’d made sure of was, superficially, the new suit looked like the original by Dr. McClellan. The difference was if they tried to access this baby they would get one hell of a surprise.
Looking over at Ollie who was working on his own project, she had to break into a smile. Who said revenge couldn’t be sweet and ironic?
The Gray, noticing her attention, wondered what was the cause of that rather unpleasant smile of hers. He decided that there were some things he just did not want to know.
Chapter 40
Tuesday September 30, 2008
Area 61
Elisa-1 stood passively as the technicians connected her to the simulation bubble. Gazing at her reflection in the shiny equipment, she once again wondered at that small scar on her forehead that she did not remember receiving.
Her memories told her she was six years old but very mature for her age. However, that just did not feel right, because sometimes she could almost recall more. Even the image of the African-American girl with her dark hair seemed wrong. However, what kind of girl would be bald? It was all so confusing.
The men around her, finished, signaled her with a tap on her shoulder to climb inside the bubble. Looking around her, she saw her sisters and brothers climbing into theirs too like they had been told. It was very important to do what they are told. A flash of insight made her wonder that, if these five are her sisters and brothers, where were her mother and father?
The overwhelming compulsion to obey overcame her hesitation, and she climbed inside. As soon as she did, the world transformed itself and information flowed to her. Their target was located at the range. It was identified as Kiloton.
Quickly with their cousin teams, they converged on their objective. This was not the first time they had faced this opponent. Sometimes they succeeded, but always casualties were heavy.
Fearlessly the child warriors threw themselves into battle, ignoring their casualties as the monster slewed them. Their masters were pleased.
Alan Glenn sat cross-legged in his cell. Several flunkies had come in and quizzed him, making sure their flashy-thingie had wiped his memories. His own talents made it easy to come up with the answers they wanted. However, he hadn’t come up with anything that could help get them out of here. The situation had grown static and it seemed Doc and Lying-To-Me Laramie was content to leave him here. At least they didn’t march the kids in front of him, forcing him to pretend he didn’t know them, which had been one of his fears.
Sometimes he was just too maternal for his own good. That oxymoron gender crossed comment made him smile inside. Whatever was to come in his life, it was clear he would finally be able to let Alan Glenn go once and for all. Like a pair of shoes on the wrong foot or too tight, this uncomfortable portion of his life would be over. He would be free to release her inner-self.
His adoptive family knew most of his story and quite frankly thought his whole Quixotic quest insane. Why inflict so much pain upon yourself raking over old wounds and memories? His reasons made sense to him at the time, but now in retrospect he could see his family’s point of view.
You would think that after so long he would’ve made peace with what had happened. That might be what anyone else would have done but he hadn’t. He buried it under so much guilt and other feelings he couldn’t even begin to sort them all out. It wasn’t until he admitted to himself that Gus might still be alive that he actually could start to deal with it.
Ollie might call himself a tech geek, but the Gray made a right decent therapist. What Alan had been through would’ve been traumatic for anyone, and his gender problems just complicated everything. The thought that they could somehow rescue Gus from the Monster, Kiloton, that he'd become, had shocked him out of his shell. If he, Alan, had been torn up by survivor’s guilt, what would his poor brother feel since his berserk alter-ego had done the deed?
Sighing, he tried to meditate again. There was no reason to wait any longer. Time was not their friend. Ollie had picked up from an unshielded civilian worker that they would have a long weekend, with the base being closed for some reason on Thursday and Friday. No matter if it was because of the Air Force looking for the stolen computer parts or for Kiloton’s breakout, it would be a good idea to be gone before then.
It was just a question of timing. His security was slacker than the kids, so he should be freed first. Then a good old Blitz on the kid’s dorm followed by a run to the Buggy and blast off. Without Big Mac to help cut out the security cameras, the faster they could move the better, so the fewer people they ran into the better.
So set the breakout for late night when everyone is home and security was at its lowest point. That wouldn’t help much because the zoomie cops here were very good at their jobs but every little bit helped.
Alan continued working on his escape plan to present to the others, trying not to pay attention the whispers from his Luck of proverbial dark clouds upon yonder horizon.
Sapphira Heron sat at the café that reminded her of home even though it catered to an American’s version of France. The man across the table from her also brought back memories of home; that of her grandfather. That old man had been formidable in his time, surviving events that had broken many of lesser spirit. Such could also be said of this French Inspector.
A founding member of the GIGN, French Special Forces group, he had been very active in the early activities of ULTIMATE. As the organization gained experience, he made quite a reputation for himself as an investigator. A quiet man, he never sought the limelight like so many of his ambitious contemporaries, but simply did the job he did the best.
As the more radical anti-mutant movement gained support, he was shuffled off to less important cases. That was until the pair code-named Kali and Tech-Witch started becoming such a thorn in ULTIMATE’s side. He was always assigned the cases that other investigators had given up in disgust and this one was no different.
SRT One had been briefed on those two, but since they seemed to strike randomly, rescuing mutants from arrest, it was unlikely that they would actually meet. Since they faded away like ghosts after each engagement, by the time the dithering bureaucrats had given her the authority to act, they were long gone.
She had faked an equipment failure on her armor earlier in the day so she could make this meeting. Her teammates were covering for her, despite their official watchers, while she was away. She was finding she had less and less enthusiasm for playing this game anymore. This week of dealing with the fanatical Heavy Assault Brigade had been wearying beyond belief. The limitations placed upon her team while they played fox to the idiots' hounds were unrealistic and more than once she wanted to unsafe her weapons and show them just who really was predator and who was prey.
Maybe that was why this meeting with this dignified representative of the old school was making such a good impression upon her. Dinner had been a relaxing affair, and once again being old school, business would not be discussed until afterwards. She could tell he was not a food snob like the stereotypical Frenchman, but that he did enjoy a good meal.
He raised his glass in a toast. “May wisdom always prevail, for the cost is too high when it fails.”
Raising her own in response, she toasted, “Opa!”
Lowering her glass she asked, “I didn’t think you’re suppose to toast yourself.”
Inspector Imbert replied with a smile. “I was toasting us both. I will soon retire and you too are soon to depart this glorious service,” he said with bitter sarcasm. “We are both being given a most unwelcome departure gift. The reason why we are all here, including our dear comrades in the UHAB, is that the Americans have a little something going on in the desert,” he explained, raising his bushy brows and taking another taste of his wine.
Sapphira gestured for him to continue as she considered his words.
Putting his glass down, he gestured with his hands. “I don’t know all the details but our superiors believe that it is going to be very big. However, my investigations have hinted that they are totally in the dark as to the true scope of the event as well. If they were disposed to listen to me, I might warn them but that brings me to my, our, next quandary.
“Both of us and our subordinates are being set up so no matter what happens we will both be guilty of something. No matter the circumstances, I’m sure they will think of something appropriate.”
She answered, “I'm sure you know that for Supras working within ULTIMATE that is not an unusual situation. Why is this time any different?”
The Frenchman sat back in his seat. “Because of the sheer size and scope of what I foresee happening. At the very least, it will have international consequences, and perhaps even world-altering ones. Some unknown event prompted the American military to take a chance on reactivating one of their Ultra-soldier programs. This action on their part has caused ripples far beyond what they thought or prepared for. One of those caused me to be here as others have brought your SRT and the UHAB. I have seen yet others and the fates only know who else has been drawn here.
“I think our board of directors is trying to use this to their own purposes, but when whatever genie escapes from the Air Force’s bottle, it will be unmistakable. Who is out on the front lines available to stop this? Your and my little groups? We will of course do the best we can, but then the UHAB will fly in to save the day. It will be a truly rare disaster of momentous proportions, a perfect storm of events. Such errors demand that someone must be found at fault, and I will only give you two guesses as to who,” he concluded, gesturing at himself and her.
She turned thoughtful. “So SRT One will for once get the go ahead to go in first. What makes you think it will be something my team can’t handle?” she asked, curious at just what the American military had that could potentially overcome her people and the UHAB.
He smiled again. “At my last count, bearing in mind I don’t know that I have found all the players yet, there will be at least a dozen supra-humans involved. Of them, about half will be as highly trained as your people. The other half may lack the level of training but may very well be quite powerful given possible augmentation by their Ultra-soldier research programs.
“This doesn’t include whatever made them risk international censure by reactivating the program to begin with. What makes this all the more complicated is some of them will be there for their own reasons, possibly at cross-purposes with each other.” He finished.
Sapphira found herself smiling back at him. “You really are an old rogue aren’t you? You play the indignant bureaucrat very well. According to our briefs, there is nothing unusual going on out here, but considering what kind of training we have been assisting the UHAB with, it agrees well with your story.
“Assuming events unfold as you outlined, what do you expect of me? Your team is an investigation detachment while SRT One has a different mission,” she pointed out.
Taking another drink of his wine he answered, “I’m hoping that if everyone has more information, this won’t turn into a totally confused brawl where nobody wins. We both know how corrupt our leadership has grown. The hatred for those who are different by an accident of birth is an insanity that we just can‘t seem to outgrow. Rather than live up to our original charter to serve and protect, they‘ve chosen to instead sacrifice others for their own goals.”
She looked at him intently, weighing his words before replying. “You’ve given me much to think about. If you’re correct about their using my people as a forlorn hope, then I’ve some decisions to make.”
She sighed, wishing she’d something with more of a kick to it than the wine. Fearing she already knew the answer but having to have to know, she asked, “Can you tell me more of these Ultra-soldier augmentees? Are they volunteers or were they blackmailed into this?”
For the first time this evening, he hesitated. “Ms. Heron, they are children between the ages of 6 and 17. They were chosen, because as I understand it, there is a window of about six months after their metamorphosis that this process is most effective. I don’t have complete information about how the Air Force got custody, but I do know their parents weren’t fully aware of just what they were signing.”
“That is one of the cross-purposes I mentioned. It is possible that they and their teachers may be trying to escape, and there are others from outside wanting to aid them,” he said.
Enlightenment flashed before her eyes. “Kali and the Tech-Witch are there aren’t they? That’s how you were led here.” It made sense. She recalled that report of Kali single-handedly trashing that company of drop-ships and power armor suits. Her own suit would be hard pressed to accomplish the same thing because of the danger of being overrun by the Peacekeeper troopers.
The Inspector’s smile turned into a grin. “Yes, but perhaps not the way you might think. I prefer the name Athena rather than Kali, but I think, unknown to the authorities, she is one of their instructors. I tried to keep the details sparse so you could evaluate the situation without any preconceptions. All of this is going to be complex and confusing enough as it is, without more problems for you when you arrive.”
She shook her head. She didn’t need to ask who was leading the research and experimentation on the children. Dr. McClellan’s work and his numerous patents spoke for themselves. There was one last point she needed to know that would clarify just why certain restrictions had been placed on her team while playing rabbit in the desert.
“Inspector, tell me, do our dear directors know of these children?” Even as she asked the question she saw the answer in his eyes. Anger sparked within her. The UHAB, the best of the best, the elite fighting unit that was the pride of ULTIMATE’s armed forces wasn’t going to be battling evil mutants trying to take over the world. No. They had a much more important mission. Running down a group of children who were just trying to run away from those who’d betrayed them.
The waiter came running as soon as his tuned ears heard the sound of breaking glass. The customers apologized for the accident even as he wondered just how the wine glass stem had snapped so cleanly.
Sapphira arrived back at her quarters. The Inspector had aided her return to avoid her watchers. She was surprised to find Number Two, Bernardo, her second in command waiting for her.
He stood silent, judging her mood, then spoke, “I take it the news isn’t good?”
Opening her laptop, she accessed a program she had hoped never to need. “If what I’ve been told is true then this time in truth, our lords and masters have gone too far.”
He, like her, was an involuntary conscript as was their teammate, Number 5, Joachim. Number 3, Robert, had been a criminal guilty of armed robbery. That was a joke because the law ruled that in every crime involving a mutant, he was considered armed because of their powers regardless if their powers were dangerous or not. Streetwise, he had used his vibratory powers to walk through walls and burgle what he wanted. Being smarter than your average criminal, he kept his thefts comparatively modest, wanting to keep under the ULTIMATE radar. Needless to say that failed.
Mariko, Number 4, too was a convict. She had a strange and unusual metabolism that required her to ingest a considerable amount of gold to stay healthy. Starving from the deficiency, she had no choice but to steal what she needed to live. Able to control her own mass and size, she simply shrunk down to doll-like proportions and walked in and out unnoticed. However, when even a small amount of gold goes missing it is noticed, and so she too was apprehended.
The two of them volunteered to serve ULTIMATE and have cortex bombs implanted rather than spend the rest of their short lives at Darkside Penitentiary. Robert had been a realist, figuring it was better odds than being on the moon, while Mariko faced with starvation chose to live.
While the two of them had the obvious threat of their heads exploding, Sapphira and Bernardo had to be concerned about the welfare of their families. While at one time she had been reasonably certain that deadly force would not be used against them, Sapphira wasn't so sure now. Particularly given their willingness to apparently let them charge into the guns while they sit back and waited to sweep up what was left.
Joachim was the only one of the three conscripts with no close family. An orphan, the German government had been only too happy to get rid of the young mutant. The team’s strongman, the big German had a slate gray complexion, and long dreadlock-like braids that looked like hair but were really heat radiators. His gray skin was as tough as armor and the thinking was that he was some kind of living nuclear reactor. Joachim’s only real weakness was his weight. Luckily he was still light enough to be carried by the team’s V-22, but more than once the armored man had fallen through a weakly constructed floor. His tracking implant had been more like welded on than surgically implanted, but he did have one.
Neither she nor her doom predicting inspector had any proof that this was indeed what was planned, but military units practiced the kind of missions they were likely to be called upon to perform. She put what they had been training for out of her mind because she didn't need to rekindle her anger. There would be time for that later.
Sapphira did have a fallback plan, but it had its risks. She had a responsibility to her people and their families. It was not for the faint at heart for it meant the removal of those explosive devices from Robert and Mariko’s heads, which was undoubtedly booby-trapped That was just the beginning because their families had to be protected as well.
Bernardo was their ace in the hole because his unique talents let him pick up skills like others would olives from the orchard. Their masters had been pleased by the incredible assortment of martial arts and combat expertise he had acquired, not paying any attention to the medical knowledge he had managed to learn. With her remotes and detailed plans for doing just this, she was sure they had a decent chance to pull it off.
Their chances for successfully getting away with going rogue were not something she wanted to calculate the odds to.
Her second looked over her shoulder at the laptop screen and nodded. “You know this day has been coming. I, we, all trust your judgment. It’s your call, but whatever it is we’re behind you.”
Taking a deep breath she looked at the innocent looking screensaver of an old WWII movie poster, Kelly’s Heroes. Using her cursor she weaved a complex pattern opening up another screen. Burning Bridges. It asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. Saying a silent prayer, she hit YES.
Number Two turned to get Robert and Mariko prepped. His normally expressionless face almost broke into a smile. His boss had a thing for old movies. Him, his taste in movies were a little different. Remembering a line from one of his favorites, a real smile made its appearance. Seeing how he never wanted any part of this supra-human business to start with, content to follow in his father’s footsteps as a fisherman, it fit. “How do I get out of this Chicken-shit outfit?”
Of course that line had come from that sci-fi movie about an elite force on a far away planet that had gotten its butt kicked. However, he consoled himself, they’d been just as bad-ass as they had claimed. Some of them had made it out alive. That was good enough for him.
Chapter 41
Area 61 September 31, 2008
Area 61
Alan’s eyes snapped open as the door to his cell door slid open. He could see the pair of unconscious zoomies on the floor behind Maggie as she stepped inside.
Maggie threw a package at him. “Strip,” she said, as she pulled one her devices from a shoulder bag.
She placed the end of the cold odd shaped thing over where his implants were hidden. “This is going to hurt like hell.”
His breath caught and his eyes almost popped from his head as the lancing pain stabbed into him. “Couldn’t you have lied?”
“No” was her curt answer. “You know me too well. Get ready for round two.”
True, he did know her, and for damn sure, she was still pissed at how Doc had foxed her. The second time around brought him to his knees, gasping and fighting nausea. “What is that thing?” he rasped out.
“Oh, it rips out those little toys your doctor left behind by disassembling the things so fast they can’t explode or do any other cute little tricks he might had thought of. It then slaps a patch of healing gel on the hole and seals it. See, all done. You get dressed while I drag in Mutt and Jeff.”
Slipping into Slow-Time, he opened the package she’d thrown him. It was an all black jumpsuit-like thing. Shaking it out, he saw it was definitely for Val and not Alan. He’d known this time was coming. Now that it was here, he found himself hesitating. His identity as the younger brother of Gus Glenn was an important part of his past. He took up the mantle of the cocky hell-for-leather racing entrepreneur, to pursue his quest for justice for the memory of his friends, and later for atonement. Penance for surviving when they hadn’t and to keep the ideals they’d supported and tried to live by.
His luck was singing to him as it had for hours of momentous events. Like a grand symphony, dark and light intertwined as the twin themes soared and danced. As he grinned, the music rose majestically as the crescendo grew towards bloom.
In a flash of light, Alan Glenn vanished and in his place stood Valentina Zarya Savitskaya. Ollie and Maggie had talked about quantum states and waveforms, and how her ability to access her friends’ powers had something to do with her being able to dip into Slow-Time. She took a deep breath, reveling in the freedom of being herself. Let them worry as to how she did it. What was important was that somehow she was able to put aside the man that she’d been and be the woman she’d always wanted to be. That was enough.
Dressing required her to use care, but she settled into the unfamiliar weight of the gear. Still, she not only beat Maggie to the door, but had both zoomies inside and tied up in an eye blink. Grinning, she slipped out of Slow-Time next to her lover.
Maggie leaned forward, giving her a kiss that was anything but chaste. Just as quickly, she broke it off, tossing her a helmet from that ever-full shoulder bag of hers. “Here, put it on, and I’ll connect the inputs and power jacks.”
Following her orders, Val eyes widened as the visor lit up like a jet fighter’s display. Startled, she saw the bulky shoulder pads suddenly take on a solid appearance along with areas on her arms, legs and back. Recognition came to her.
“Hey, this is like Doc Mac’s design,” she exclaimed.
Returning her grin she replied, “Yes and no. His design had so many embedded traps and trackers, I didn’t dare use it after what happened with your implants. Instead, I used it as inspiration and came up with this.”
“Those hard plates,” she pointed out, rapping on one with her knuckle, “are nice for use as directional surfaces and as armor, but awkward for maneuvering in tight places. This is a fabric-like material that becomes solid under the right circumstances. It can warp and change its shape, something the original design couldn’t do.
"The batteries are good for about six hours, but it has a system that uses your body’s motion to recharge them. Even without their power, that system can power the suit if you’re moving fast enough. Trust me. This is a lot better than his work without the limitations place on it to control the wearer. So what do you say we blow this Popsicle stand?” she said, heading back to the service tunnel’s open access.
Central Control Area 61
Air Force Sergeant John Maus was carefully writing down in the log the current fluxing power readings from the equipment in Elevator Shaft Six. Slowly the readings had been increasing the last couple of hours. They were still well under the thresholds for activating the emergency call list, much less the big red panic button under its protective clear plastic shield.
He did bring it up to his shift supervisor’s attention. They were well aware that they had Cerberus shackled down here, and no one wanted to be around in case it ever got loose. An avid reader of Sci-Fi and fantasy, he mused that perhaps the Fenris Wolf might be a better analogy. The mighty wolf slipping his chains was one of the omens for Fimbulwinter or it might be the other way around. It’d been a while since he’d caught up on his Norse Legends.
John did recall that Fimbulwinter lasted 3 years and sounded all too much like a nuclear winter to him. Considering what was locked up in there could very well cause such a disaster, he would rather err on the side of caution.
His supervisor thought the same, picking up the phone to call in the big brains. John went back to his console, watching the computerized graphs forecasting the coming doom.
Val opened the secret door from the clubhouse to the dorms. Without Big Mac to run interference with the security systems, they’d have to do this the hard way. Embracing Slow-Time, she flowed into the room that’d been her home for the last few weeks. Maggie had mapped out every camera’s location, and Val skipped from unit to unit, slapping a bypass onto each and every one, ensuring the boys in blue would see only what they wanted them to see.
She was relieved to see none of the kids had a midnight urge for a glass of water or something else that’d screw up the pre-taped show her partner had arranged to playback on an endless loop for their zoomie Peeping Toms. Ollie was waking them now and all those late night meetings in the clubhouse paid for themselves as the kids got moving faster than they otherwise might.
Val zoomed back to the clubhouse to get the kids changes of clothing, passing Maggie lugging her implant zapper. Gathering up the armload of clothes, she passed Maggie again and dropped them in front of each kid’s door.
Sometimes it was fun being a speedster, but other times not so much. Communicating was all but impossible while deep in Slow-Time. She surfaced, watching everything speed back up as each of her students sleepily dragged their packages inside their rooms.
Josh came out first, half-dressed, and earned the privilege of being Maggie’s first victim. Val, seeing things at this end were going well, went back into the stream. She flowed out the concealed door into the service tunnel. Dancing through the thickening wall of air retarding her way, she checked to make sure the passage to the Buggy’s hanger was clear.
Letting Slow-Time swirl away from her once she entered the hanger, she saw Ollie through the pilot’s bubble canopy. She could see he was preoccupied speaking to the kids, and helping Maggie get them ready to make tracks out of here.
Val double checked that all of Maggie’s security bypasses were still in place at the blast doors, as well as ones that would open the silo, so they could launch. She let the world speed back up again, so she could talk. Everything seemed to be going well, but like some grand orchestra, her luck was still building towards a dark sinister upsurge.
She held up her thumb in the OK sign. It wouldn’t help the others to know what her luck was singing. If anything, it might hurt. They already knew they had to move fast to get out of here. That would be good enough or it wouldn’t. If things did start to go to hell in a hand basket, it’d be up to her to sort things out.
“Val,” Ollie called. “Maggie needs you back in the dorms.”
She smiled, like that for example. “I’m on the way Ollie. You just stay ready to put the pedal to the metal.”
The little Gray just grinned at her as he slipped on his oversized WWII leather aviation helmet and goggles. “When we burn out of here they’ll never know what hit them!”
Once more in Slow-Time, Val hurried back down the maintenance way. Arriving in the dorm’s closet, she dropped, surfacing back into normal speed. Walking in, she got there just in time to see Maggie treat Malik. Val winced as she brought out that agonizer-like thing of hers for removing implants. Surprised when boy didn’t yell in pain, she asked, “What’s up with theirs not hurting like mine did?”
Not looking up as she repositioned it to get the next one, Maggie replied, “Oh I used a topical anesthetic.”
A bit put out Val asked her, “How come you didn’t use one on me? That thing hurts!”
“I didn’t have time. It takes a few minutes for it to numb the area, besides you‘re a big girl. You can take it,” she said, not looking up. “Here I can apply the anesthetic on each one, and by the time I’m finished with the last, it has taken effect on the first one,” she said.
“What I need help with is Lizzie. I can’t get past her force-screen. You said something about being able to help with that,” Maggie explained.
Val nodded yes. She knew Ollie had explained to the kids that she and Maggie were here to help since they didn’t recognize who the women in the black outfits and armor were.
Val had to smile, as she snapped open her visor. Gesturing for Lizzie to come to her, she could see her wondering who she was. The others standing around were obviously wondering the same thing, with one exception.
“Val!” Billie squealed, running out to hug her to everyone else’s surprise.
It seemed that she wasn’t the only one who’d made the decision to leave their male persona behind.
The teen awkwardly introduced her, explaining, “This is Val. She’s, hmmm…, a friend of Mr. Glenn. She’s my friend too.”
Ollie’s mental voice echoed hers. “Yes, once more, they are here to help us escape. Please hurry as we don’t have much time.”
Unable to resist the temptation, Val said in her best Russian accent, “If you want to live, come with me.”
Most the kids gaped at her while Billie giggled. Then the guys chuckled, recollecting the quote.
“Seriously we have to get a move on here. Those of you who‘ve already had your surgery, head to the clubhouse and follow the yellow tape down the service tunnel to the hanger,” she urged them. Putting her hands on her hips, she asked, “Or do you really want to stay here?”
That did the trick as the older kids herded to the closet where the secret door was hidden. Lizzie lagged behind and tugged on her hand.
“What’s wrong Lizzie,” she asked, as the others trooped into the service tunnel.
Looking up at her, the little girl questioned, “Where is Mr. Glenn? Is he okay?”
“He’s better than fine, and closer than you think,” Val assured the six year old, knowing they had to gain Lizzie’s trust. They just didn’t have the time to use the same method the Docs did for getting past the half-pint’s powerhouse’s force-screen.
She looked at the adult suspiciously, staring at her face. A bright smile replaced her studied concentration as her eyes twinkled looking into the older woman‘s. “Oh! You’re like Billie!” Happily, she flew into Val’s arms, hugging her.
Trading a smile with Maggie, she was thankful the rest of the pack had already gone ahead. “Hey watch that. You don’t want to break anything do you?” At least now, she could take Lizzie’s enthusiasms a little easier. Not that it let her deal with the little red headed dynamo on an even level. Even as strong as she was when not holding anything back, Lizzie, after Doc had gotten done zapping her, was stronger.
“It is you! You’re a lot prettier this way. I like it,” Lizzie said, sitting on Val’s lap.
Val smiled, sighing. “I’m glad you approve. It is an improvement and I’m rather fond of it too. But you need to promise me, you’ll keep it a secret for now, okay? It’ll just confuse everyone, and we don’t need that right now. Alright?” she asked.
Lizzie solemnly nodded yes.
Smiling, Val tapped her on the nose causing the little minx to giggle. “Alright, you saw how Maggie took those bad things out of Billie and everyone else? Now we need to get yours out too. I know you don’t like it when the Doctors make you sleepy to get blood so I’m going to try something different, okay?”
Lizzie’s green eyes looked into Val’s as she nodded
Hoping this would work, Val cleared her mind and reached out. This was something that, although she’d tried, couldn’t be explained to Maggie or Ollie. It was almost like diving into Slow-Time, but while that was kind of like swimming underwater, this was more like floating on your back. It was a complete relaxation and letting go of everything, just allowing the flow to carry you.
Val wished she’d more time to study these new abilities of hers before blindly jumping into the deep end. Alas, time was the one thing they didn’t have. Too bad she didn’t have something like Max’s clones' ability to instinctively use her talent. That caused her to pause. Maybe she did, if her guess that these newer talents had come from them was correct.
Having studied supra-power theory in school back in Kazakhstan, it gave her hope this would work. Feeling her abilities settle about her, she could feel the force-screen, so like Lizzie’s, surrounding her. It wasn’t anywhere as powerful but she still had to be careful with the extra strength it gave her.
Concentrating, she tried to feel where her force screen, and that of the little girl in her lap, touched. Her years of martial arts training came to her aid as she breathed in time with Lizzie, seeking to synch with her. As gentle as a breeze she felt their screens merge and become one. “Now comes the hard part,” she thought. “Lizzie I’m going to try and turn off your screen for a moment.”
At the little girl’s nod, Val willed the screen away.
Lizzie looked a little nervous as her protective power faded, but her trust kept her from fighting Val.
Quickly Maggie darted in and sprayed the area where she needed to treat. All they could do now was wait for the anesthetic to take effect.
Between Universes
The timeless fissure became a firestorm that no natural or man-made forces could contain. Slowly the machines that had worked so valiantly to maintain the eye of the needle into space/time lost their battle. Just as long ago, a king knowing his battle was lost sent a messenger to ‘Go tell the Spartans’, they sent their own signal that this battle was lost.
A klaxon sounded the alarm as the lights and gauges told of the prisoner’s bid for freedom. A spilled cup of coffee puddled on the floor, forgotten as its owners leaped for their controls. For thirty-four years, they tried to smother the fires, but now it was free. Now there would be hell to pay.
To be continued.
Chapter 42
September 31, 2008
Staff Sergeant John Maus’s blood turned to ice as the klaxons wailed. The readings on his panel spiked so fast that mere human reactions were far too slow. Without thinking he whipped out his key, jamming it into the failsafe switch. A quick glance at his view screen showed him their backup station had also gotten the containment failure message. This was no drill or false alert.
“From three!” The so calm voice of the Major commanded.
“Three”
How the hell could he be so calm knowing that thing in the shaft was going to explode?
“Two”
Trying to swallow in a mouth gone suddenly dry, he prepared himself.
“One! Enable!” The Major ordered.
John confirmed, “Enabled!” as he and the Major turned their keys, praying it wasn’t already too late.
“Firing!” The Major directed.
Together their hands slammed down on their red buttons.
High above Area 61, a geostationary satellite relayed the image it captured to its masters. The ULTIMATE watch officer professionally notified the people and units on his alert roster. The analysts, sitting at the control panels behind him, busily replayed the footage of the jet of fire blasting up out of the small building housing shaft 6 at Area 61, searching for any clues to what caused the explosion.
The explosive jettisoning charges had been set by the best. Additionally, the carriage and the rest of the fittings were specifically designed for this contingency. The instant the electrical supply had been cut, high capacity capacitors took up the task of supplying the Looking Glass Projector, buying a few more precious moments. Exactly as planned, the pillar of expanding gases shot the carriage and its payload into the desert night sky like it had been shot out by a cannon.
As it reached the highest point of its trajectory and began to fall, an onboard GPS system kept track of its position. Once it hit its predetermined altitude, another charge deployed a steerable chute originally designed to give ejecting pilots the ability to maneuver in high threat environments. Another off-the-shelf-component, made to guide gliding smart bombs, directed the descending blast scorched assembly to the designated touchdown point.
A journey it was fated never to complete. The wormhole grew more unstable by the microsecond and began emitting streams of particles across the entire spectrum. Despite being shielded, the electronics couldn’t withstand the assault as they shorted and burned. Without their guidance, the lack of direction would’ve carried it miles off course given time. Time it did not have.
Malik jumped as the sirens howled! He and the rest of the guys gave each other a startled look before they started running full out down the tunnel.
Josh seeing himself and Amanda falling behind yelled out, “We can’t keep up. Remember that sled maneuver from the sims?”
Scared they were going to be caught, Malik gasped out, “Yes!“ His sister grabbed Josh and Amanda with her magnetic field while he pushed. Billie steered and acted like a rubber bumper, keeping them from hitting the wall.
Just like they’d practice in the sims, in only a few breaths, they’d reached over 30 mph racing down the narrow passage.
Billie yelled over the still blaring alarms, “Stop! This is it!”
They both slammed on the brakes as Amanda sent a blast of wind into their faces to help bring them to a stop before the already open service door into the hanger bay.
Malik grabbed for a wall as the whole place shook with a boom!
Stumbling, he helped up Billie who was reeling in her arms that she’d extended helping them to stop. Together they ran into the hanger. He’d half expected to see guards pouring in, but there was only Ollie in the saucer’s bubble frantically gesturing for them to hurry.
They’d almost made it up the ramp and on inside when a loud whooshing of wind blew out of the open service doorway. Malik blinked as the two women dressed in black suddenly appeared there with Lizzie.
Between eye blinks they were abruptly beside him!
The one Billie called Val grasped his shoulder. “Go get strapped in! Ollie, we’re here. Let’s burn some air!”
The ramp started rising with them on it, while the silver and red saucer began moving to its launch cradle.
Malik threw himself inside, as the launch alarm added their screams to the earsplitting clamor. Turning, he did the classic double-take on seeing that strange woman, Val, was already seated and buckled in, studying the instruments at the panel where Mr. Glenn usually sat.
Twisting to look behind him, he saw that other adult, Maggie, and Lizzie struggling to get seated as the ramp was shutting. The deck started tilting under his feet reminded the teen that it’d be a really good idea to strap in.
Ollie sent to them, “Something major has occurred that has nothing to do with our escape. Everyone hold on tight, we’re going to blast off, hard, in ten.”
Malik remembering the first time they’d ridden with Ollie, had to keep his mouth from dropping open. “This was going to be worse?”
Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven. He got the harness latched as the saucer’s deck continued to tilt.
Six
Five. Val yelled over all the sirens and everything else that was shrieking, “Crew is secured.”
Four.
Three. “We’re a GO
Two. for Launch.”
One
“Blast OFF,” Ollie said calmly.
A giant slapped Malik down against his chair as the Rocketeer’s team vehicle earned its name, The Rocket.
A lifetime of awaking at a moments notice, ready to handle whatever crisis at hand, had General Robert Laramie striding into his command center calm and collected. With this operation nearing its critical phase, he’d been living out of his office. Scant seconds had him dressed, and ready for action, while his aides were still half-dressed, trying to update him on the situation.
His command center was in disarray as techs rushed to get to their stations in a half-asleep panic. Dr. McClellan and the rest of the eggheads were bent over their equipment trying to find out what just had happened. All in all, he was satisfied so far. The proof they’ve all done their jobs would be whether or not Area 61 was still here come sunrise, or nothing more than a radioactive crater.
The Watch Officer ran to him, quickly giving him the latest information. “Sir, at 0930 hours Zulu, Looking Glass’s power requirements spiked and blew all the fail-safes. We ejected the core. After clearing the shaft, telemetry indicated that the emergency power supply and all other systems were functioning as designed.”
“Everything was operating as expected until just after the para-wing was deployed. We lost the telemetry downlink as well as all our unshielded communications and sensors. Backups shows the Projector is now drifting unguided to the north. If it continues on its current trajectory, it will over shoot the target zone. “
The General whipped out a cigar. “What is the status of Meridian? We’ll need them to lead the target back to the zone. Bring the Hydra teams to readiness and have them stand by.“
Turning to the cluster of white coated scientists he bellowed, “Doctor McClellan what happened to my communications and telemetry?”
The senior scientist spoke, “What caused the early failure is right here. A big charge of energized particles erupted from the Projector burning out its critical systems. Another occurred right after the para-wing started for the beacon. That one was much more intense and larger, particularly in the EM spectrum. The EMP was what took out our communications and sensors.”
Grunting, the General turned as an aide reported. “Meridian’s dormitory is empty. Security found the surveillance cameras have been compromised.”
His eyes bulged as his heart rate soared. He didn’t even have to guess who was responsible. “Glennnn!”
Temperatures soared onboard the drifting Looking Glass carriage. The heavily shielded capacitors tried valiantly to keep up with the rapidly climbing power demands. They failed.
The Looking Glass Projector was both a failure and success. It was simply too expensive to build one for each prisoner as well as the power requirements each one demanded. However, it had kept the monster that’d once been a hero safely imprisoned for thirty-four years.
The old machine flashed into superheated metallic vapor as the wormhole finally collapsed. A tsunami of energy materialized back into existence. Racing away at the speed of light, the excited particles and ions from its emergence bombarded the upper atmosphere. Just like in the northern climes, an Aurora Borealis lit up the desert sky in a brilliant flare. For miles around, electrical power and cars failed as the accompanying powerful EMP fried them.
An enormous white hot sphere, spitting blinding arcs, slowly drifted to the ground. Where it touched the desert sands, the silicates hissed and fused into glass.
Kiloton had returned.
Arghun was on his way back to his comrades when he saw the first explosion. Relying on instincts that’d served him well for far longer than anyone would believe, he took off sprinting back to camp. He could outrun most galloping horses, and could keep it up for far longer.
He disregarded the other flashes of light and thunder behind him. It was imperative he get to the others as fast as possible. They needed him to lead them in. Everything else was unimportant. Whatever sensors he set off wasn’t an issue any more. He’d a feeling that the watchers had far bigger problems.
Pyotr and the others met him near the border of the lands that Valentina’s captors forbade to others. They were watching the light show while waiting for him.
Arghun stopped beside Bob, who was carrying his gear. Gratefully he took his canteen, taking a long drink. Looking at the dancing lights high above he shivered. His people had their own legends about such things and it was anything but good.
“Your sister certainly has a way of signaling for help,” he told Pyotr.
Pyotr clapped him on the shoulder and said softly, “I owe you more than I can say. I owe you all. We will go get my sister, and then we’re leaving as fast as we can. Our rendezvous is set and will wait only till sunrise. Now, I’ll carry us as far as Arghun deems safe.
Arghun’s team leader lifted them all with his telekinesis, and they flew rapidly in the direction of the trouble. The small dark man dressed for battle swearing that girl owed him at least a kiss. Shrugging, he knew that no one could go into battle with better companions. He’d lived more lifetimes than he could count and wasn’t sure of his own age. If it was his time to die, then he would make sure that the last battle of Arghun Bahadur, warrior of the great Kahn, would become a legend.
Chapter 43
Above Area 61
Val hung on as Ollie fought The Rocket as they shot into the heavens. Overhead a wild Aurora burned madly while lightning danced all over the Buggy. The rear view had them leaving a contrail of burning sparks that even a blind man couldn’t miss.
She slipped lightly into Slow-Time, using their sensors to find the cause. The burning wreckage of what use to be the entrance to elevator six was easy to find. Looking skyward was harder with all the interference.
Abruptly, they locked in on the source of the disturbance.
From over her shoulder she heard Malik exclaim, surprised, “It’s Kiloton! It’s here!”
Val could feel her face grow pale. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but there he was, The Monster. The killer, who somewhere deep inside, held her last living family, her brother, Gus.
Sending to Ollie she asked, “Can you drop me off behind that ridge behind him? If I can lure him back to that trap, we’ll see if Doc’s plan will work. You and Maggie can drop off the kids someplace safe and come back for me.”
The kids were looking around, wondering what was going on. The Buggy was still bucking as if it was alive as Ollie dodged through the storm of ions. Billie was the first to get it.
“Oh my Gawd! That’s Captain Blazzar. That’s what this was all about. That’s why they brought us here,” she said.
Ollie passed on to Val, “Maggie says she’ll do it but as soon as we get them to The Car, we’re coming back for you. She’s downloading the coordinates to your helmet GPS as we speak. She also says ‘Don’t you dare get yourself killed.’ I feel the same way my friend.”
“Prepare yourself. I’m going in hot with a bootlegger reverse stop and then a Bat-turn, flat-hatting along the ridge till we’re clear of line of sight, flying nap of earth. Piece of cake!” Ollie said in pilot’s speak.
Val hit her harness release. “Just like old times.” This should be a lot a fun, not, as she slipped to the exit in the crowded bouncing saucer. She saw in the kids’ eyes that they had figured out she was going after Kiloton.
Josh yelled, “We’ve fought it in the sim. We can do this!”, as the rest of them echoed him.
She smiled as her hands found the old hand holds. Strange that after over thirty years she could find them without looking. Looking up at the anxious faces she said softly, “No can do. This something for others to handle.”
Maggie’s face was grave, but across Val’s HUD she wrote out, “I love you even if you are an idiot.”
Ollie warned them. “HOLD ON!”
She felt the Buggy viffed itself about in a 180, slamming them all back into their seats, as Ollie brutally applied full thrust. She took a deep breath. Here it comes. Locking eyes with Maggie and grinning jauntily she mouthed, “I know.”
Now flying backwards the Buggy’s rear doors flicked open, and Val let the momentum fling her into the night.
Maggie felt as if her heart had been torn from her chest, watching her love suddenly disappear into the blackness. It took a real force of will to keep her attention on helping Ollie by keeping a close eye on their sensors.
He’d immediately spun The Rocket back around and was racing at breakneck speed, scant feet above the rocks. Behind her, she was vaguely aware that Val’s tattered secret was out of the bag. One of the guys had put the girl speedster and Alan Glenn the ex-speedster together and gotten the jackpot. Billie and Lizzie had come clean with them, and now they all knew their teacher was much more than he’d claimed.
She tuned it out, too worried about Val to be concerned about the future. That was why the mutiny got as far as it did.
Billie, using her stretching power, tapped her on her shoulder, “You have to go back. We can’t leave Val out there by herself. Besides, no matter where you put us, we’re going to be in some kind of danger unless you put us so far away you won’t be able to get back in time to do any good.”
“We’ll be just as safe in The Rocket as we’ll be anywhere else. Please go back? Ollie, Maggie?” the teen pleaded.
From the way they’d came an ominous glow of lights and thunder sounded. She so wanted to do just what their would be mutineers suggested, but they did need to get these kids to safety. Looking at little Lizzie, a would be powerhouse or not, she was still only six years old.
Helplessly she thought to Ollie, “Help?”
The second he touched her she knew he felt the same way. “Maggie, if we do, Val is going to be so mad at us.”
Another thunderous volley of raw power echoed behind them.
Making her decision she took a deep breath. For Val to be mad at them she had to first be still alive. She could live with that. “If we go back, you will stay onboard, you got me?”
They all nodded.
“Ollie turn this thing around. We’re going back,” she ordered.
ULTIMATE SRT-One’s field camp.
Outside Las Vegas
Sapphira locked down her armor as the ramp on SRT One's V-22 rose. The rest of her team were still strapping themselves in as their pilot did a full emergency-power dust off. Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps, was completely dark. The EMP that’d struck just minutes ago had done more than that, with at least one airliner down so far and another coming in on a wing and a prayer.
The UHAB was still coming active, but since SRT One was ready to roll they’d been given the honor of investigating the cause. It was easy to find where, with that aurora burning directly overhead, Area 61. Their mission was to recce and find the cause. They were authorized to take whatever action was necessary to prevent another Electro-Magnetic-Pulse.
Sapphira traded a long look with Bernardo. This was happening precisely as the Inspector had warned. Never before had they been given leave to act with such extensive discretion.
He simply nodded as he made his own last checks of his equipment.
Her own shoulder twinged where he’d removed her tracking implants. She and the others now had small transmitters on their belts sending out the signal that their implants once had. Sapphira could only imagine what Robert and Mariko were feeling. Having the implanted trackers removed was nothing compared to the near brain surgery to remove their cortex-bombs.
Bernardo had proved to be a skilled surgeon and their state of the art equipment certainly helped. Despite all that skill, she and he wished they’d all had some more time to recover. They’d just only got the last of her gone-to-hell preparations finished when that EMP had hit. That was why they’d been able to respond so quickly.
Their handler/overseer, Major Thomas, was a completely unlikable bureaucratic ass, who was interested only in his own career. He’d come stumbling in half-drunk from the casinos from which they were barred. He demanded they hurry, only to find to his surprise they were waiting for him. He, of course, wasn’t going to ride with them but was going to be on their other V-22, well out of harm's way.
The poor excuse for an officer was also the one that had the remote for their tracking implants and cortex-bombs. Sapphira had thought it only fitting where she had her little robotic helpers dispose of the nasty little things. Neither of the two cortex-bomb explosive charges were very large, being about the size of a firecracker. However that was more than big enough to outright kill just about anyone, mutant or not, considering they were placed right next to the gray matter.
Now, if Major Thomas used that remote of his, he‘ll get one hell of a surprise, not to mention needing some reconstructive surgery. Besides, a good soldier always checks his own gear and never ever leaves anything to chance. He’d just be reaping the rewards he himself had sowed.
As their aircraft raced towards the storm of lights in front them, she closed her visor. If they had a chance of living through whatever was capable of producing such a strong charge, she needed to be on top of her game. The people depending on her deserved no less and she demanded nothing but the best from herself.
Tonopah, NV
Inspector Philippe Imbert stood outside his Tonopah hotel, watching the aurora and the sheets of lighting playing across the sky. He could but marvel at the dazzling display. Andrea had rattled off some figures of how much power it’d taken to cause what had struck this part of Nevada. It rivaled a solar flare or a very big nuclear bomb. No significant radiation had been reported yet, but the amount of static electricity was truly astounding.
It had begun.
His driver Rodger was working on their Hummer, and promised it wouldn’t take long to jury-rig it. Andrea was trying to communicate with headquarters, but what the EMP didn’t burn out, this storm of lights jammed. He was on his own, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
All his people were armored up, and had loaded everything that could prove of use into their two Hummers. He was going to drive straight for Area 61’s gates. If they wouldn’t let him through, Philippe would wait. All this was just the opening round in a battle of Titans. When the dust settled, someone would be needing their help because he expected very few to still be standing.
Rodger yelled out, “Got it!” as the big vehicle’s engine started. A scant minute later they jumped off their other Hummer, and they were ready to roll.
Not wasting a moment, the inspector waved his people to mount up. They drove carefully to avoid all the people standing outside of the two powerless casinos, looking heavenward. The dancing lights were truly beautiful, but Philippe knew that most truly beautiful things were also deadly.
Chapter 44
Mohave desert outside of Area 61
Val twisted desperately in the air as the rocky soil beneath her feet vaporized, spattering molten glass shrapnel all around her. She was as deep in Slow-Time as she’d ever been, and as fast as she might seem to someone watching, it wasn’t anywhere near fast enough to avoid the speed of light death flying at her.
It was only by avoiding letting his vaguely arm-like appendages point anywhere near her that’d kept her alive so far. This thing that was Gus stood at about 10 feet tall, a blinding bright blob with lumps and bumps in about the right places for a head, arms and legs. Where it stepped, the very ground bubbled and smoked, as it moved in a floating bounce like that of a moon walker rather than actually walking.
If not for the force-screen she’d inherited from that poor deceased clone of Max’s, she already would be shredded just from the shrapnel from the near misses. Still in mid-air, she calculated her next move, using her flight to help her cheat. She was much, much faster on the ground, but the bit of flying she did have now, helped. It would’ve been nice if she didn’t have to learn how to use it the hard way. One mistake and Maggie would be a widow.
The moment her toes reach the ground she zagged hard to the right. Val hadn’t taken more than a few steps when her luck sang doom, despair and more doom. Almost skidding out of control she zigged back to the left as another exploding crater appeared where she would’ve been. Oh tricky! The critter had figured out he was telegraphing his attack, and used the other arm to guide his aim that time. Well, Gus had never been slow on the uptake.
A check of her helmet’s HUD showed their progress to the range. Dishearteningly, they still had quite a ways to go. However she was making progress. The bad news was she had to provide something for him to shoot at for him to follow. If she got too far ahead he lost interest. Val had wondered if she just left him alone, Gus might transform back. He’d to have used one hell of a lot of energy already to light up the entire sky like he’d done. He had to be low on energy, power, or whatever he used to keep going.
The thing was, she couldn’t risk him getting anywhere near a population center. Left to himself he might just fly off, and if he flew as fast as those death rays he was firing at her, she would never be able to keep up. She was fast, but the speed of light, not so much. So, for better or for worse, this was the plan she was stuck with.
Whoa! She checked her six as the critter cut loose with a constant blazing torrent of destruction from both arms, one in front of her and one behind. Bringing his hands together he meant to catch her in the middle!
Charging for the nearer beam, she leaped over it, using her flight again to cut it as close as she dared. Hadn’t it ever heard, “Never cross the beams?”
The critter from Gus’s Id was getting way too cagey for her own good. Time to introduce some good old fashioned motivation. Scooping up a fist sized rock, she twisted backwards and threw it at gruesome. Using her old friend Doug’s talent for marksmanship, and the remarkable strength she'd gained, the projectile flew as if fired from a cannon, dead on target.
Only to have the rock explode in a burst of fire into smoking shards as it reached Kiloton’s fiery corona. With a roar that was a bizarre combination of white noise and the weird music of a theremin, he threw an arcing splash of incandescent brilliance back at her.
Val in a corkscrewing twist used every bit of acrobatic skill she had to dodge the plasma wave. Nope! This critter didn’t like that at all. It might attack anything that moves near it, but it really got pissed if you dared attack it, whether or not you managed to hurt it or not.
Her luck warned her to stop just in time for her to let herself drop flat as he lazered another beam above her. She said yet another prayer for that poor clone of Max’s whose power she had now. Without it she could have been dead yet again.
Pride goeth before the fall she quote to herself. It’d been a long, long time since she’d really been pushed this hard. With most of the powers from her friends from The Rocketeers, she usually, deliberately, did not use her full capability. Like the egotistical fighter who fought with only one arm to make it fair, so did she. However, Val did it to preserve her secret, and she admitted to herself, out of guilt.
The more she used them the harder it was to stuff them back into their ‘genie bottle.’ She used what she had to and then pushed it back away from her. For years she’d depended upon training her base form and had refused to use even the talents that was originally hers as Alan Glenn. Maybe Ollie and Maggie were right that she’d been trying to punish herself for surviving when those so dear to her hadn’t.
Her luck, moaning oncoming calamity, again brought her back to her present predicament. That was one of the problems with diving so deeply into Slow-Time, the whole world seemed frozen. It gave her the time to plan every single action, but it also let one wool-gather when she should really be keeping her mind on important business. Like staying alive for instance.
Aborting her flip to her feet, Val flew into the air as a trench was carved where she’d once stood. Cartwheeling to the side she put on a burst of speed to give her some more maneuvering room. Yep, she’d made him mad alright, as he kept blasting away at her, seemingly determined to level the Nevada hills. Now all she had to do was stay alive.
Staff Sergeant Green cursed silently to himself. They’d been in their sniper hide catching sleep in catnaps, when it’d all started to go down. So much for intelligence saying they would have some warning, he scoffed. They’d been told an attack by some kind of mutant terrorists were likely, but this thing seemed to have broken out rather than having been trying to break in.
Radio communication was out, and even the landline that they’d laid was damn spotty. He was just damn glad that fancy frakking scope, the SRVS (Super Resolution Vision System), hadn’t packed it in too. He’d read about EMP’s, and what they could do to electronics, but he’d never heard or read anything about how bad the static electricity could be. He and his spotter had constant small cracks of being bitten by the sparks.
He felt really uncomfortable with the 35 lb lightning rod his XM-111 had become. Strikes were hitting all over the place and unfortunately their hide was on a rise so they would have a good shot at the targeted range.
The problem was he’d spotted what had to be their objective moving towards the ambush point. The thing was a nightmare of twisting blinding lashing energy, burning and arcing crap all over the place. Duty kept him in place even as he knew they risked getting electrocuted from the violent dry electrical storm raging about them.
What he didn’t know was what to do about that ballsy dame playing tag with that damn thing down there. She was definitely trying to lure it to the range, and despite moving so fast she was a blur most of the time, she must have 9 lives. From what his experienced eye could pick out she’d already used up half of them and was working hard on using up the rest. And she still had a good half klick to go.
His spotter, Lance Corporal Hennessy, was on the field phone trying to find out what the rules of engagement was in this Foxtrot Charlie, Fluster Cluck. That was if anyone knew what in the hell was going on. Both of them had been more than a little freaked that they had so much static crap running over them, the marine hadn’t even needed to crank the phone. Assuming he lived through this, he was going to have a little talk with the gunny who’d volunteered him for this, ’sweet little’ assignment.
General Laramie had nearly bitten his cigar in two in frustration. The desert landscape about Area 61 had turned into something out of a filmmaker’s fantasy. Bolts of lightning were raining down continuously from a clear night sky while that intense aurora above cast bizarre shadows on the desert below.
This operation was already coming apart at the seams. Alan Glenn had broken out and no doubt had something to do with Meridian being missing as well. Security had reported that the old Rocketeers hanger doors were jammed shut. They had tried to enter when a guard had heard activity within, although the monitors showed nothing. Right now, he could not even confirm if Glenn and Project Meridian had flown the coop.
He was glad he’d let Dr. McClellan talk him into initiating Project Hydra. That had provided a needed backup. Already the Hydra teams were riding the elevators up. That however didn’t answer his latest question. Who in the hell was that woman out there?
She was leading Kiloton to the target area and he had to respect her reckless courage. However, what he didn’t need was more complications and problems. At the very least, she was trespassing on his Top Secret base, regardless that her actions were at the moment useful. At worst, she was a dangerous interloper playing her own game.
“General,” Dr McClellan spoke. “My assistants are still trying to narrow down the database as to who she might be, but I think I might know who that is out there.”
Robert Laramie barked out, “Don’t hold your tongue Doctor! Who is she and what is she doing here?”
Pushing up his glasses the old scientist replied, “I recognize some of the design features on her surpra-suit. They’re the same as on the one I designed for Alan Glenn thirty-four years ago. More to the point, the one I showed to him for the first time not more than a few weeks ago. Additionally, look at the supra-speed she’s using. I have only a vague idea of how it might be possible, but that has got to be Capt. Vroom.”
It was to his credit, that unlike everyone else who'd heard the Doctor’s theory, the General’s mouth didn’t drop open in disbelief. His flint gray eyes stared at the huge monitor’s image. He subscribed to the old adage, “When in command, command.” Living up to that ideal he ordered, “Get Saul Simpson top side. Tell him if he can stop that woman he’ll have a complete pardon.”
Turning to the eggheads he asked, “Dr. McClellan, if that is the same suit, do you have the abort and immobilization codes for it?”
The old scientist gave a conditional answer, “If it is an exact or near duplicate, yes the abort and/or the other codes might work. There was any number of backups and fail-safes included as a part of the design.”
Grunting the General said, “Then we have nothing to lose by trying. The moment Kiloton is down. You send those codes.” Turning to his aide, he added, “That goes for Simpson too. He does nothing, you understand, until that monster is out?”
Captain Syn nodded and passed along the orders.
Standing tall while everyone nearby leaped to carry out his orders, he muttered under his breath, “I always knew something wasn’t right about that boy.”
If anyone heard they diplomatically gave no sign.
Chapter 45
Area 61 Test Ranges
Elisa-1 yawned despite herself. She knew she was suppose to be a good girl, and be obedient, but she was so sleepy. Their nurse woke them up and told everyone that they needed to get up, even though it was very early in the morning. She and her brothers and sisters got ready as fast as they could.
Now they were riding the elevator up for the first time. Like the rest, she had her visor on, watching as it told them what they were to do. Go here, find Kiloton there, and attack.
There was more but she’d learned how to find the important parts in the mass of instructions they were given. Besides, her job was simple — pick up her sister Carol-1 and fly to the attack site. Then protect her, while her sister trapped the target, Kiloton, in her magnetic field.
Simulations indicated a high probability that the target, once caught, would lash out at the one generating the field. Delia-1, who would be super cooling the area would also be at risk, but this plan was centered around Carol-1. If she fell, the mission always was lost.
Over the course of the previous week, their commanders discovered that they were more likely to be successful if her sister stayed operational. They devised the tactic of Elisa-1 using her force screen protected body to shield Carol-1. It seemed to be the most effective use of her talents given that not even her screen could withstand direct contact with the target.
The elevator doors opened and they all hurried up the short hallway and stairs to the outside. The chill dessert air was alive with the smell of ozone from sheets of lightning bolts, and thunder rumbled in a continuous roar. High above them, strange dancing lights lit up the base’s airfield and support buildings, almost like it was day. The surrounding night time desert was alive with shadows cast from the shifting lights.
Elisa-1 picked up her sister and followed the arrows appearing on her visor. Part of her felt she should be amazed by what she was seeing, but somehow she had the feeling that she’d seen even stranger scenes.
Putting her thoughts aside, she concentrated on performing her duty like she’d been trained. The mission always must come first.
Valentina Zarya Savitskaya dodged another inferno-like blast but the end was in sight. The sunken pool of Doc’s goop was well camouflaged, but knowing what to look for let her see past the illusion. The last few hundred yards had been tough. Now that she’d made him mad, the critter had been tossing a near steady stream of destruction at her.
Suddenly, a rocket of some sort raced at the blinding form of her brother. She was surprised, as for once something flew at the thing rather than from it. Instead of exploding in the corona like her rock had, it deployed some kind of net that arced and flashed with power before vaporizing.
The monster of Gus’s Id really didn’t like that, making that hissing harmonic roar of his again. Another fiery stream of plasma poured out at where the rocket had launched.
Val’s heart lurched in her chest. Maggie?
“How had they gotten back so soon?” she thought, as the area exploded into superheated steam and razor sharp fragments.
Across her HUD, a message slowly appeared, even though Maggie had burst transmitted it as fast as she could think it. With Val in Slow-Time it took forever for the letters to appear one by one. “Miss me?”
“Don’t worry the weapons are remote fired. I’ll alternate with you to divide its attention. Love Maggie,” she had typed out.
Not having any time to waste with using the touch pad on her gauntlets, Val simply hit the acknowledgment key.
Scooping up another rock, she deftly skipped it across the battleground, showering debris at her foe. Like before, Kiloton unleashed a hurricane of blazing fire at her. Deadly though it was, it was also easier to avoid when Kiloton was angry than when the critter was trying to be clever. That gave her time to study the pit-like area in more detail and what she saw made her heart ache.
There, making their way along opposing sides of the range, were the unmistakable forms of two groups of kids. They had to be Max’s clones.
Damn Laramie and Hathaway to hell! Val had no doubts that these clones were mind washed into the perfect little soldiers Laramie always wanted. Whether or not they had Max’s homicidal instincts or not, they weren't expendable robots!
Val sighed. She had no choice but to play this game out. Like it or not, Gus’s alter-ego was just too dangerous. They had to stop him. She just hoped that Laramie had worked them hard on those sims. Otherwise the old bastard was going to be responsible for even more deaths. Not that she expected that to bother him, but sure as hell it bothered her.
She watched as another of Maggie’s toys went off, causing another roar from the critter. As it obliterated another hill in a blinding flash, she lobbed not one but an armload of rocks at him. Val had carefully picked each location, using her nimbleness to strike. It was important that the critter try to follow her across the seemingly solid surface of the trap.
Light footed, she ran across the gel filled pit. The instant her foot hit terra firma, she threw herself skyward, letting her flight redirect her momentum upwards. A ball of incandescence erupted under her. Arcing backwards, she flipped herself behind the fireball, hiding from him.
Steeling herself, now came the hard part. Val simply stood as the fireball climbing into the desert sky revealed her to the monster, her brother.
Saul Simpson had to keep himself from laughing. As they rode up the elevator, his guards were pale and clearly frightened. They might think they hid it well, but he and fear were old friends. Although he didn’t have any better idea as to what was happening than they did, he took it in stride.
Death had passed him by so many times, he’d grown somewhat jaded about the whole matter. If he died, no one would grieve. Hell, they would probably have a party and dance on his grave.
What he did know was the Man had said if he put some broad down, he could go free. Nothing else was important. After thirty-five years, he was ready to go home. All they’d told him was that some monster was tearing up the place. After it’d been taken down, he was free to pound the chick. He’d been told to capture her, but how he did it was up to him.
Cracking his knuckles just to needle his guards, he smiled knowing how much it would bother them. As soon as the doors opened, even he was surprised. The night sky above them was lit up by dancing lights as lightning was falling all about. Thunder from the bolts were rolling in a continuous roar. Looking around, he saw that one of the small buildings housing the other elevators going to Area 61 was completely blown apart.
One of the guards waved, getting his attention. It was impossible to talk over the deafening ringing roar of thunder. Pointing to one of those funny looking trucks they called Humvees, the guard ran, praying under his breath.
Saul just looked about wonderingly. He’d seen so many incredible sights during his life but none like this. From the surface of the moon, he’d watched the Earth-rise and gazed into the depths of space. He ran to the truck and hauled himself inside. His keeper drove white knuckled as Saul saw the fires and explosions coming from in front of them.
Bouncing crazily after the short drive, they skidded to a stop in front of a low blockhouse, half-buried in the sand. Together they ran inside where an officer and pair of nervous sweating techs were staring at their screens. Curious, Saul looked over their shoulders. The thing was a big man-like blinding mass of crackling energy. Crap was arcing off of it, as the ground bubbled up underneath it into molten sludge.
As Maxi-Bad he’d fought some real bad-asses, but this one was in a league all to himself. He couldn’t help but whistle as it blasted a small hill to kingdom come. Saul had to admire whoever was out there with that thing, as he watched the glowing fireball rising into the sky, as if from a nuke. They had some real brass balls to be flacking around out there.
“There is your target,” his guard pointed out to him.
Looking in interest, Saul saw the slender armored figure standing there with one hip cocked, waiting for the fiery fog to rise. He guessed she was about medium height, and off hand she didn’t look like much. Her black partial hard-shell armor didn’t appear to be powered and her helmet was kinda streamlined like a motorcycler’s.
He blinked as she blurred to the side as the Thing burned a trench, just missing her. Saul’s eyes narrowed. He’d only known just one person to move that damn fast. As she did an impossible flip, avoiding another bolt of fire, he was almost sure he knew who she had to be.
The monitors had the outlines of some trap outlined upon it. Rather than get some distance so she’d room to dodge, she stayed, trying to get the Thing to trigger whatever boobytrap it was. That was the final piece of the puzzle. It had to be Vroom, Alan Glenn.
Saul wasn’t sure how it happened, but that chick had Vroom’s powers and sure as hell acted like him. Maybe the girl was Glenn’s daughter or something and he’d passed his powers to her. He’d heard of something like that before from his fellow inmates on the moon.
The big con sighed. He wasn’t going to enjoy it as much as he’d thought. Although Alan Glenn had been one of the team responsible for putting him in hell, the guy had also been one of the only ones to treat him with something like respect. Oh, Saul was still going do what he’d been ordered to do, but only because he had to, for Freedom.
Then his entire world changed forever. There, on either side of the trap thing, were two groups labeled Hydra 1 and Hydra 2. His eyes bulged out. It was those kids he’d helped trained! His mind wrestled with what he was seeing. That General shouldn’t have them out there, but then it hit him - there were two groups of them!
It was impossible! A week had passed since he’d called on his Mojo. Any clones would be long dead, disappearing into nothingness. But there they were, his children.
The big man almost dropped to his knees. They were alive! It had to be that Doctor. He’d somehow kept them alive. After all these years, here were children of his Mojo, alive. Children that he’d hadn’t murdered with the very act of giving them life.
In growing horror he watched as the rampaging monster enter the trap set for it. The trap where perhaps the only things he, the destroyer, had ever created, waited.
Chapter 46
Area 61 test range
Val somersaulted as the blast wave hit her at the speed of sound. Riding the wave, she twisted trying to see what had happened. Gus’s critter had bounded right into the middle of the pit and wham! It was pretty obvious whatever was in there had vaporized, explosively. A thick fog hid him from sight, but the bright lights shining inside let her know Gus’s monster from his Id was still in there kicking. The glare caused yet another layer of her visor’s filters to engage.
In seconds, the miasma had burned away, revealing that at least part of Doc’s plan had worked. Lightning arced like wild living things from the critter to the cables lining the pit. He was roaring that bizarre wail and thrashing about in pain.
Val held her breath, praying it would work, but slowly it rose into the air, pulling itself free. Then she saw the power that had been draining off the creature flash against the magnetic field of the Maxi-Malaks. They’d been holding it down while the Maxi-Josh’s had been blinding it. But it wasn’t enough. One by one the mad arcs sleeting downward stopped. The monster started hunting for its attackers.
Josh and the rest of his friends helplessly watched the battle as The Rocket kept its distance. He wasn‘t too sure how he felt about finding out their teacher was now a woman. Getting used to Bill being a girl now was hard enough, but the rest of the girls had made it very clear Billie was ‘hands off.’ What he did know was this: Val was down there fighting for her life.
Looking at the faces of those who’d just a few short weeks before had been strangers, he saw their unspoken agreement. “We have to help, but you know Ollie won’t let us. Lizzie can carry me, and Amanda. Malak, you get to carry your brother and Billie.
“I need to get closer to make it see an illusion where everyone is 6’ to the left of where they really are. Amanda, I want you to super cool the area around Kiloton. Like in the sims, that should make Malak’s magnetic screen work better. Lizzie you’ll be Amanda’s wing watching out for trouble. Malik will be mine, and Billie will be Malak’s. Good?” Josh asked his teammates.
They nodded.
“Lizzie,” Josh reminded. “If that thing come anywhere near Amanda, you grab her and fly like a bullet the other way. Got it?”
“Hun huh,“ she said, giving a thumb‘s up.
“NO! You can not go. You promised Maggie and I you would stay onboard The Rocket,” Ollie commanded.
Josh and the others looked up guiltily wondering how the Gray had read their thoughts.
Ollie pointed out to them, “I’m mute not deaf. It is far too dangerous. Kiloton is far more dangerous than he was years ago. You must stay.”
“Ollie they’re not strong enough! Let us go down. We can stop it!” Josh pleaded, as his teammates nodded him encouragement.
The Gray replied, “I can not. You and I promised Maggie we would keep you here, safe.”
“And where would we go?” The teenager tossed his head at Area 61. “You know they would look for us and where could we go anyways that would be safe from that thing? Look down there! They almost have it but it’s too strong. If we help we might make the difference.
Looking defiant, Josh added, “What about Alan Glenn? I'm still wrapping my head around he and Val being the same person, but we can’t just leave him, her, or them. And what about those other kids down there?”
“We have to help them!” he said, as his friends voiced their own feelings and agreement.
Ollie was silent for a long moment and then sighed. “I have no choice but to agree. Please be careful and stay as far away as you can. No simulation is the same as real life. This isn’t a game where you come back to life after making a mistake. You die, and so do your friends, if you make a mistake.”
With the assurance of youthful belief in his own immortality, the teen replied, “We know, and we will be careful.”
The Rocket winged over, reversing its course, diving back into the wildly arcing storm.
Val typed out a message to Maggie on her touch pad, “Try and distract it. Use attacks that’ll pass through the girls’ field.”
Hoping the rocks in hand had little ferrous content so they could pass through the Maxi-Malaks' magnetic screens, she fast-balled the first of a nearly machine gun-like stream of stones. Like before, they hissed, melted and exploded well short of the critter, but they did get its attention.
Soon more of Maggie’s energy disruption things were striking it too, and that caused it to slow its efforts even more as it turned to attack her.
Again it reacted by throwing lightning bolts hotter than the sun at them. This time the energy was caught in the two Maxi-Malak’s magnetic field and channeled down into Doc’s energy draining web. The bolts arced into the ground causing more drains to the monster.
Gus’s Mr. Hyde screamed its untuned radio screech of anger and furiously struggled to get free again.
Val stepped it up to high gear, sending a hail storm of rocks at the monster.
However this time, it wasn’t going let anything divert it from its attempt to free itself. Not even Maggie’s special little packages which caused it to roar each time one struck were slowing it. One by one the multiple arcing energy bolts draining into the trap failed, until just two remained.
“Val and Maggie, Josh is going cast an illusion of you two being 6’ to your right,” Ollie sent to them.
That baffled her for a long moment until she figured it out. “NO! Ollie don’t let them down!”
Her friend’s voice was heavy with sadness. “I’m sorry but they talked me into it. Truly we have no choice. We have a chance to stop Gus here, Now. Doctor McClellan’s trap might work with more help.”
Val held her breath as the critter almost yanked his self free, the girls’ magnetic screen was straining, trying to hold it. Just one thin arcing bolt holding it down. She saw The Buggy pop up over the ridge and the kids, her students, were flying towards them. Feelings warred within her. As much as her very soul rebelled at these youngsters being treated as she and her friends had been, she was also a pragmatic freedom fighter. Ollie was right. There was no other choice.
Almost immediately, she saw the difference as Malak added her strength to her Maxi-clone's magnetic screen. The shimmering blue half-sphere of arcing sparks brightened and pushed Kiloton back down towards Doc’s web. The ruptured piping had partially refilled the pit and gel hissed as it boiled away. First one, and then another bolt of lightning shot out, draining the monster in a crackling fury of power.
Amanda started chilling the area, hoping to help reinforce Malak's screen. The Maxi-Amandas' powers had been too weak to make a difference but theirs added to hers did as the blue shimmer of the entrapping screen grew brighter.
It was working! By Gawd it was working!
Val’s brow wrinkled. Her luck had begun singing low and now was building again towards another crescendo. Even a lifetime of trying to decipher her talent’s warning didn’t help much. The Monster from Gus’s Id was thrashing wildly as arcs of power poured off of him.
Was its very center somehow even brighter? Like a sledgehammer it hit her!
‘Ollie!” she cried. “Patch this through to everyone, Stat! He’s going to blow up!
“Done Val,“ her friend reported back. “Hailing channel open!“
She warned, “Attention! Kiloton is building up to detonation!”
“Everyone get to Malak or one of her clones! Malak, cover your teammates!” she ordered.
As never before she pushed herself. In slow motion the kids leaped for cover of their screening teammate. However there was one person out here who had no protection, Maggie.
Val’s visor’s HUD showed her where her lover was, and racing the colliding particles building to critical mass, she ran. She didn’t dare look backwards for fear the growing radiance would completely blind her. In a well practiced maneuver, she scooped up Maggie, and ran for the only cover she could find, a concrete blockhouse a short distance away.
The flash behind her warned her time had run out. Expecting to be crisped by the fireball, she found it pushing her forward! Her force-screen from the Lizzie clone! She wrapped her screen around Maggie like she’d done with Lizzie. Sliding, swimming, flailing, she dived for the shadow of the blockhouse!
In a bone breaking collision with planet Earth, they stopped! Next to her, Maggie struggled, trapped in Val’s form hugging protective cocoon. In an exhale, she released it, and a breathless Maggie rolled away gasping for air.
They were lying in a shallow pit she’d plowed out by her out of control crash. Nearby a Humvee laid in a twisted burning wreck. Laying on her back, she saw the enormous nuclear fireball climbing into the sky where the aurora still danced. If not for that clone of Lizzie’s that’d died and passed on her powers to Val, she and Maggie would’ve been crispy corpses. The Kids! Her rattled brain’s screamed!
Pulling herself up to see, Val saw a nearly perfect circle in the blast zone where Malak’s and her clone's magnetic field had protected their teammates. One of the clone teams’ Maxi-Malaks had gotten close enough to merge her screen with the more powerful original. Together their strength had been enough. The other team of clones, by themselves, hadn’t been. The fact that Maxi-Malak’s screen had almost worked was evidenced by the scattered bodies that were still moving, laid out as if thrown by the hand of giant, instead of just being incinerated.
The 100 yard across crater burned into the Nevada desert, steamed and smoked as the Monster floated above. It showed the wounds of its battles. Forced to expend so much energy, it was no longer giant sized, but nearer Gus’s own height of 6’. But now the web of cables and gel that had helped dampen and ground its energy into the earth was vaporized. Weakened, but still maddened, it turned its attention to those who would dare attack it.
While everyone else were trying to recover, the monster mercilessly glided down to those who were closest. Unfortunately, it was also those who were the most seriously injured.
In Route to Area 61 from Las Vegas
Sapphira heard their pilots cursing even as her instruments warned her of the oncoming danger. The mushrooming nuclear fireball rising into the night was modern man’s ultimate nightmare. Their dropships were built to handle just about any condition up to and including this one. They would see real soon if they lived up to specifications.
According to her sensors, the radiation released was much less than what you would find from a standard fission or fusion reaction, but it was still unmistakably a nuclear reaction of some type. A rough estimate of yield was about 10 kilotons which put at slightly smaller than the Atomic bomb used at Hiroshima.
That was small comfort as the blast wave rushed in upon them.
In Route to Area 61
Pyotr and his team silently watched the huge fireball climbing into the desert night sky as they raced to his sister‘s rescue. He was using his telekinesis to fly them all as fast as he could. It wasn’t anywhere near as fast as his dear sister could travel, but was considerably faster than any ground vehicle and most helicopters could manage.
Pragmatic old Soviet military doctrine had prepared them for what to do if nuclear weapons were employed. They had all served or trained under those who had the expectation that nuclear weapons would be used and they were prepared for that eventuality. True, he never expected to see them used here, but his home was nicknamed Mutant-stan because of its many mutants. It was a very tempting target for their enemies who hated and abhorred them.
Quickly, as they’d been trained, Pyotr dropped to the ground, where they all went prone. He reformed his protective globe into a low well-sloped dome around them.
Like a tsunami, the shock wave towered above them as it rushed upon them. With a mighty roar it fell on his team and all of them covered themselves just in case Pyotr’s TK screen failed. This was one of those things you couldn’t practice against the real thing, and you really, really hoped you never would actually have to.
The superheated storm of air, sand, and rocks thundered as it rolled over them.
In a space of a few very long heartbeats later, he released the breath he’d been holding. He’d passed the test.
No one wanted to ask if it was still necessary that they continue. Pyotr was one of the very few who knew just how tough his adoptive sister truly was. Point in fact, she had already survived such an experience before. It’d half-killed her, but thinking about that made him think. The strange nature of this entire matter, beginning with Val’s alter-ego being arrested, and brought back to this place where she had her genesis. And now this; two enormous events; one a powerful EMP and the other a nuclear explosion.
His friend Ivan remarked as they stood. “I know we weren’t supposed to start any wars, but it looks like Valentina has begun one without us.”
Arghun replied, “I know she can be temperamental from time to time, but who would be foolish enough to try this? Don‘t they know her at all?”
Everyone turned at looked at the dark wiry man.
Blinking at the attention, he kept on. “It will take more than that to kill her. It will only make her angry. We should hurry to save the poor misguided fool before she shows them Kuzma’s Mother!” he said, as the fireball rose higher into the sky behind him.
As they continued staring, he blushed, deliberately taking their incredulous expressions that anyone who could do such things had to worry about anyone, wrongly. “Not that I’m saying your sister, Pyotr, is anything other than a kind hearted paragon of virtue.”
Pyotr began laughing first and the others joined in.
“Come now,” he told them. “Let us go rescue these imprudent Americans from my sweet sister. Like our friend Arghun said, we have to save them from their folly!”
Area 61 Testing range.
While everyone else were trying to recover, the monster mercilessly glided down to those who were closest. Unfortunately, it was also those who were the most seriously injured.
Val dipped back into Slow-Time again to give herself time to study the problem and make the best of a very bad situation. She had no idea just how badly that group of Max’s clones were hurt, but they didn’t look good. Simply her zooming down there and snatching them out of harm’s way might kill them just as surely as Gus’s Monster would.
It was all taken from her hands, as the blast door from the blackened bunker exploded open and Maxi-Bad charged out! He paused a second to rip one of Doc’s patented radio headsets from his head before grabbing a twisted length of trolley railing that had once ran into the pit. In a huge running leap he charged into the Monster!
Val exclaimed, “Oh Crap!,” but she didn’t interfere. He was obviously trying to stop Gus, even if she didn’t have a clue how the hell he’d gotten inside that blockhouse to begin with. Just as obviously whoever on the other end of that radio didn’t want him stampeding to the rescue. Knowing Ole Lying-To-Me Laramie’s penchant for crisis management, she could make a really good guess.
Looking into the now open blockhouse doorway, she saw the zoomie guard slowly bring up what had to be the remote to Max’s implants.
Now, that, she could and would do something about. She didn’t dare try destroy the thing, not knowing what twisty-minded traps the thing might have. Val did notice that as she grew used to the force screen she now had, it did help her running. In a flash she was next to the would be executioner.
Glancing back as she handed the device to Maggie, he was staring at his empty hand, wondering what had happened. Jauntily, she waved at him. However, she had other problems. “They were trying to activate his implants with this. Watch out for traps,” she sent, using her touch pad, which was faster than speaking given her speed and Maggie’s techno powers.
Then she was racing to get back to the fight. Max had cleared the football field distance and had the length of rail out in front of him like a lancer. Her students had recovered, and had thrown up protection for the wounded. Malak’s magnetic screen and Josh’s illusions were doing the job.
It took her only a moment to work out what Max had in mind. He might be a bruiser, but he was a smart bruiser. Spotting some of the cable that hadn’t gotten slagged in the explosion, she coiled up a few dozen feet.
Another rapid fire cracks of thunder roared as Max slammed his lance home into the Monster, but not before making sure one end was firmly dug into the glassy melted rim of the crater. Once more grounded, Gus’s critter roared again. Like a wounded beast it whipped around to attack its tormentor. A crackling mass of energy arced out at Max!
Grounding the end of her cable, Val roughly looped the end like a lasso, and careful not to electrocute herself, dropped it around her brother’s alter-ego as he was distracted. That’s one, she counted. Rushing, she returned for more grounding rods.
In a teeth grinding grimace, Max took the burning shot as it washed around him. The big man wasn’t invulnerable, but he was quite possibly the toughest man alive. He’d been through things that lesser beings couldn’t even dream of surviving, but he had just shrugged it off. Now the wash of energy vaporized flesh, but it grew back almost as fast as it flashed to steam.
The monster however had other concerns. Two metal grounds were leeching its life away in a spectacular lightning show. It cut Max’s lance from itself with a blowtorch-like beam and labored to do the same with Val’s lasso.
Grimly, with his skin still smoking, Max grasped the severed railing. His hands hissed as they touched the white hot metal. With a roar, the tough guy from Chicago’s Southside wrapped the railing about the Monster again. A crack of lightning thundered again as more of the monster’s life poured away.
This time, even as his blackened flesh melted away, Max wrapped his broad arms about the Monster. Their mutual screams of pain echoed across the battlefield. One carried the pain and determination of a man’s heart while the other of a wild beast of energy and crackling wild power trying to survive at all costs.
Electrons twisted and turned as their charges realigned themselves. The very power of the stars failed and like a candle it’s fires were extinguished. A final bright spark ended this battle of Titans as this time the heart proved stronger than rage.
To be Continued.
Chapter 47
General Robert Laramie stared at his command center’s big board. Most of the gigantic screen’s sub-windows showed nothing but static snow. The majority of the outside sensors and cameras had been taken out by the successive EMPs and that nuclear blast wave.
Above him the overhead lights flickered, and a few fixtures hanged dangling by their wires. He made a mental note to bring up that failure with his maintenance officer. Although they were within 5 klicks of ground zero, most of that distance had solid rock between his facility and it. Area 61 had been built to withstand nuclear attacks and in fact this was the second one it had survived.
Both had come from Kiloton and that first had been even closer. That one, thirty-four years ago, had been right on top of the base, but was far smaller. This latest one was far bigger, but still fell short of what the base could withstand. The problem was much of the force had been channeled downward by Meridian and the Hydra teams' magnetic fields. Because of that, Area 61 had taken more of a shaking than it should’ve.
The General cursed. That bitch had almost screwed up everything. If she was indeed Alan Glenn then as usual she had royally frakked up the works. If Meridian had engaged in the battle from the beginning there’d been a good chance Kiloton could’ve been neutralized before the monster had a chance to go critical and explode.
She had, he reluctantly admitted, lured Kiloton to the target area. However he was confident he would’ve thought of a suitable tactic that would’ve accomplished the task. Then Simpson had charged out, yelling something about saving his children. Gawd save him from nutcases!
That reprobate didn’t even have any children. If he survived, that was one convict that was getting his ass sent back to the hind end of the universe.
Trying not to show his impatience, he stared at the bank of screens showing nothing but electronic snow. They did have communications with the bunker, before Simpson had charged out in his forlorn hope. It did look as if they had managed to take out Kiloton, but they didn’t know for certain. That last surge of interference had interrupted communications again.
At least according to Dr. McClellan it was only more EM and a small amount of radiation. That left them a good chance that Meridian and Hydra were still recoverable. As bad as things turned out, he still thought he could spin the damage control so his career would be safe. Preserving those two valuable assets would go a long ways in doing just that.
Finally a few screens came to life as the bunker’s crew piped back live video footage of the battlefield.
“Good,” the General grunted, as he studied the displays. Kiloton had transformed back into a form more easily dealt with. Mission successful. “Deploy the recovery and medical teams, ASAP! Tell Operation Thunderbolt they may begin operations. Dr. McClellan,” he barked. “Prepare to send out the Hydra and Meridian incapacitation implant activation codes. Knock them all out, including that woman if you can. We‘ll sort out who‘s who in the medical wing.”
The scientist looked at him and nodded. Turning to the white coated technician seated at a console at his elbow, he asked, “Have they dropped their magnetic screens?”
The tech nodded, “Yes sir. Our signals should get through.”
Meeting the General’s gaze, Dr. McClellan ordered, “Send the code.” Lifting the safety cover, the technician pressed the preprogrammed transmit code. It carried its message at the speed of light .
Val winced as static electricity crackled and popped as she stood up. That last blast, while it hadn’t packed the wallop of a nuke, had still been big enough to knock everyone ass over teakettle. It’ll released one hell of lot of static.
Even walking caused sparks to jump about her. As much as she wanted to hurry to her brother, with the air being so charged right now, it would not be a good idea. At least her uniform provided protection from it. The heat and sharp edged fused glass snapped and crunched as she made her way carefully down the steep slope of the crater. Her visor was registering some radiation, but not as much as she first feared. More like getting a series of X-rays, than what you would expect from staggering down into a ground burst crater. That last blast sent both Max and Kiloton over the edge and into the smoking hole that resembled an entrance into hell.
She hadn’t learned how to truly fly yet, but trusted her newest gift to help lower her down the treacherous slope. Reaching the bottom, Val saw both of them were still alive, but Max was much more badly hurt. The old convict was a mangled, burnt wreck of a hulk, but somehow the big man was still moving. He’d lost both arms and one leg as well as being charred black from the living nuclear furnace he’d wrestled with.
And won, Val reminded herself. With sad irony she remembered what she’d said way back when the Rocketeers were trying to arrest him. ‘It’d take a nuke to kill the big bad man from Chicago.’ It seemed she had it right.
Val stopped, kneeling down by him as the fused ground shattered under her boots into crystal shards. He didn’t look good. She could tell his abilities were trying to heal him, but they were losing the fight. Maggie included a small but compact emergency medical pouch with her armor, but Max’s injuries were far beyond what its meager contents could manage. Shaking her head sadly, she started to stand.
“Wait, donna’ go,” Max croaked. “Ya‘, Vroom’s daughter or sumpthing?”
His eyes had regenerated as well as the rest of his head and neck. However she could see his regenerative abilities struggle and slow as the severity of his injuries overwhelmed his talent. She didn’t think even a state of the art trauma ward could help him right now. Not that even she could get him to one in time to make a difference. Either his powers would save him or they wouldn’t. Right now it didn’t really look too good.
Val answered softly, “Yeah, that’ll do. Hang on. We’ll try and get help,” she said, fearing it was far too late for that.
“There’s no help for me. Maybe there never was. If ya’ anything like your old man I know you’ll keep ya’ promises. I know, I’m a bastard, but I have a favor ta’ ask.”
He rasped. “Look after my kids. My clones is everyone else calls them. They’ve a chance at a new start, don’t let them do what I’ve done.”
A long pause passed. “Please,” he asked in a near whisper closing his eyes.
A tear ran down her cheek under her helmet. “I promise.”
All he could manage was a low grunt as finally his powers failed. Without it fighting to keep him alive, blood and fluids starting running from the stumps of his limbs and ruined flesh.
She stood, repeating her promise to the old tough guy who had at long last redeemed himself. “I promise.”
Her brother lay only 20 feet further away, but it was one of the longest journeys she’d ever taken. He still looked like he did that day so many years before. He was dressed in the old Rocketeers’ uniform. Blood stained one shoulder through a nasty rip that she guessed was where Max speared him with that rail.
So many emotions were welling up inside. Sorrow competed with anger, and compassion warred with selfishness. How she had missed him so terribly, but why hadn’t he been stronger. Why had he’d let those terrible things happen so many years ago? Why had he left her all alone?
Making her way to his side, her eyes filled with tears. All those things had never been Gus’s fault. Like them all, he had his childhood stolen. Her brother had tried his best to be the father-figure that the Air Force boys in blue had denied them all. If he had failed, it was only because despite having the powers of a god, he was in the end only human.
Raising her visor, she felt the rush of the still brutal heat that had seared this hole in the earth only minutes ago. Ignoring the discomfort, she knelt by her brother, checking his wound. Doc’s Rocketeer supersuit had already helped seal the area, stopping the bleeding. Pulling out her own med kit, she treated the wound.
Gus’s eyes opened wide in shock. “What happened? Who are you? Where am I?”
Gently she told him. “You’re at Area 61 at one of the ranges. You took a wound to your shoulder, but it doesn’t look too bad.”
He looked at her curiously. “You kind of look like Kat, but you’re not her.”
Val shook her head. “No, I’m not Kat. What is the last thing you remember?”
Grimacing at his pain, he laid his head back trying to think. “My team and I had just been zapped again. We were recovering top side, I think.”
Gus’s entire body convulsed as he remembered. “Joyce! I felt her die!”
Anguish filled his face. “They killed her! Somehow I knew that she had died. I was so angry. She was only 12 and they murdered her with their damn experiment. I knew Lafitte had ordered us to be zapped again. It was his fault! I wasn’t going to let him do this to anyone anymore. I …” His voice trailed off in a choke, his face white.
Looking behind her, Val saw he’d seen what was left of poor Max.
Shocked, he whispered, “It wasn’t a dream. I really did kill all those people!” he cried, and tried to get up despite his wound.
Val gently held him down as she continued to check him for more injuries. “No you did not! The killers were the same ones who pulled the trigger on Joyce. Just like it killed her, it did something to you that last time. You transformed into a Leviathan-like creature. It wasn’t your fault at all, but the ones who caused it.”
Gus’s voice was heavy with guilt, didn‘t agree. “How many besides him?” he asked hoarsely.
Val sighed, her heart aching for him. “Don’t worry 'bout that right now. We need to get you out of here. I think it’s okay to move you. The only injury I can find is your shoulder. Okay, let’s get you on your feet.“
She could’ve easily carried him, but Val felt it was better this way. Gus had never been the sort to wallow in his troubles, but he needed something to do to keep his mind off of what was happening. Helping by his good shoulder, they hobbled towards the rim.
Gus looked at her intently again. “You never did tell me who you are or who you’re with. I don’t recognized your uniform,” he asked, implying his questions as he looked around at the enormous hole they were at the bottom of.
Val smiled as she looked up at the rim, judging her location. “Now days, I’m a private citizen although I do hold a reserve officer’s commission in my homeland’s militia. I guess you could say I have dual citizenship. Hold on. I’m going to lift us out of here, but my flight isn‘t very good.”
He grunted as their feet left the ground and they headed upwards. “Then you’re trespassing, and you still haven’t told me who you are. You still seem familiar somehow, but I still can’t place you.”
They were rising only a bit faster than the smoke and steam from the crater’s heat fused bottom. She and he could see the perfect circle of the pit that’d been formed, cookie cutter-like, by Malak and her clones' magnetic fields attempting to contain Kiloton’s blast.
Pressed close together, he stared at her. She didn’t know how to help him. However, she knew as they set foot outside the pit she had to find a way. When Kiloton had transformed back into Gus, that last blast wave had taken its toll. Although not anywhere as powerful as that nuclear-like blast that’d dug that new pit behind her, it still had released enough energy to cause even more static discharges. The kids that had been protected, like Lizzie and her Maxi-clones, were fine, but everyone else looked in rough shape, with shocks and burns.
That wasn’t even counting that one group of clones whose Maxi-Malak had been unable to completely protect her team. They were in a bad way. She could hear the wail of rescue vehicles on their way so she guessed those hardened hangers had survived Kiloton’s temper tantrum.
The thing was she now had a big problem. She had made a promise. Even if she hadn’t, Val still would have wanted to help those Max called his children. They being real, and not temporary, changed everything. Too many bad guys had created cloned monsters and creatures as nothing more than weapons. Like any sane person did with a mad dog, you shot it before it could hurt anyone. The rule of thumb was clones such as Max’s were dangerous and were destroyed. There had been exceptions over the years, like that girl who was the ward of the Chevaliers in New Riverside. However she had no doubts that the General had no intentions of letting anyone know about his secret little supra-army.
But even if she wanted to, she couldn’t take them with her. There simply wasn’t room in the Buggy. Not to mention almost all of them needed medical help, up to and including her students. Malak and Lizzie were fine, but the other four were all hurt to some degree.
Gus standing by her side must have noticed her dipping into Slow-Time to think things out. Figuring things out, he muttered, “I’ve seen this before. It’s Slow-Time. It’s your eyes. You have Alan’s eyes. You’re my brother.”
Turning to him her breath caught. Her Luck was singing yet again this night. The sad soaring tones couldn’t be missed this time. Something else bad was going to happen. Wasn’t what had already occurred enough for one night? Was her brother going to be unable to cope with her changes? Or was it something else?
Val nodded slowly as she wondered what it was going to be.
A message blinking in urgent red flashed on her HUD.
“HOSTILE SIGNAL DETECTED. COUNTERATTACK INITIATED.”
'Was this message what her Luck was warning her about and not her brother’s reaction?' she wondered.
Gus’s eyes widened as he tried to understand. “But you’re old now! How did you manage to change?”
“This doesn’t bother you?” she asked, with her eyes looking for the unseen threat.
He smiled at her. “Ollie told us all a long time ago about your problem. I can’t say I understand, but no matter boy, or girl, I’ll always be your big brother. Now will you tell me where are everyone else and how did you get so old?”
She looked for the doom her talent was forewarning of but saw nothing. Val started to answer when a splash of warm wetness hit her cheek as her brother fell.
Chapter 48
Area 61 test range
“Duck and cover my ass,” Staff Sergeant Green cursed sourly as he dug himself and his spotter, Hennessy, out of their partially collapsed sniper hide. Quickly he checked his gear and found everything still operational, even that damn gee whiz scope on his rifle.
Hennessy gave him the thumb’s up sign as the spotter checked their field phone, while he tried to find out what the hell had just happened. There had been not one, but two blasts. The first had been a damn nuke and he was dead certain they’d both been too damn close. Maybe it’d missed them today, but he was all too aware of the possibility of radiation poisoning or cancer ending Mama Green’s little boy’s life way too damn early.
The second one was like that thing that had cause that aurora still dancing over their heads. They had still been trying to unearth themselves during that one and that had probably been a real good thing all considered.
Studying his scope, Sergeant Green saw that bunch of kids that had been fighting that big glowing thing. Most of them looked to have been hurt, some pretty bad, but the majority of them were mobile. One woman dressed in something like all black assault gear had pulled out a med kit, and was aiding the wounded.
Alright, he decided, that made them ‘friendlies.’ He found no sign of that ballsy dame who had been playing tag with the damn energy monster thing. Sergeant Green rather hoped she was alright. Wouldn’t mind meeting her, judging from what he could see from the way she filled out that suit of hers. Not that it mattered much. With his luck she’d turn out to be an officer or someone else strictly off limits to enlisted like him. Hell, if nothing else, he figured they all owed her a drink, considering the chances she took luring that thing into the ambush.
“Sergeant, HQ wants to know if we see a man in a blue uniform,” Hennessy asked.
Giving the area another quick scan, he was about to answer, 'no', when he saw two heads poke above the crater’s rim. One was his foxy dame, but the other was someone new. He was wearing a blue uniform with red and white strips running down the arms and legs. It seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it.
“Affirmative, I got one spotted. He’s with the woman in the motorcycle helmet who lured that monster over here. Looks like he’s wounded in the shoulder and doesn’t appear to be a threat since she’s helping him stand,” Green added. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling something was out of kilter about all of this.
“HQ says he’s the target and to engage at the soonest,” his spotter relayed to him.
The sergeant’s stomach twisted. The target wasn’t hardly older than the rest of the kids out there. Plus he was already hurt. “Tell HQ I want to confirm that order. This kid can’t be more than 18 himself, and he’s already wounded.”
They’d all had class after class about what constituted an illegal order. What they didn’t tell you was what to do in the gray area. Someone had just set off a nuke on an American military base for Gawd‘s sake. Now HQ was telling him to service a target who was already wounded, and didn’t look to be a threat.
Formally, Hennessy, reported, “Sergeant Green, HQ confirms the man being helped by that woman is the target. They say again, he’s to be engaged at the soonest.”
Praying he wasn’t making a mistake he pulled the heavy weapon into his shoulder. The damn thing kicked like a SOB, and if he was going to do this he was going to do it right. “Get on your spotter scope, and confirm what you see.”
Hennessy shook his head wondering what was up with the Staff Sergeant but did as he was told.
Green asked him, “You got him? Does he look familiar in anyway?”
The Lance Corporal replied, “Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s just as HQ described. I don’t recognize him, but I don’t really pay attention to all that mutant hype stuff.
Green sighed. He couldn’t find a good reason not to obey his orders. He still intended on doing his 20 and retiring. “Tell HQ we’re engaging,” he said sighing.
Falling back into his shooters stance, he began acquiring his target. He’d no idea what these strange damn conditions would have on his ballistics. No one to his knowledge had ever attempted to engage a target under post-nuke battlefield conditions. Everything affects projectile trajectory; humidity, air density, among others. The heat and smoke wouldn’t make this easy but his scope took care of most of the problems.
Like he had countless times before he slowly squeezed the trigger. Training made the shot routine as he fired. The XM-111’s 25 mm shell erupted from the rifle. It covered the distance between Sergeant Green and his target in an eye blink. If it had hit center of mass like he’d intended, the target would never had known what had hit him, but for one small problem.
Both the rifle and scope had been specially selected for this mission. Each had been made as tough and as shielded from harm as possible. In this case, neither failed, but instead it was the ammunition. The 25mm rounds took programming on the fly so the best time could be selected for the explosive rounds to detonate. In this case, Sergeant Green had selected 'none at all', depending on the massive round to do the job by old fashion kinetic force.
The extreme conditions of multiple EMPs and static fields it had generated caused the fusing to malfunction. Rather than strike the target, the shell exploded just over two feet short of its target. Shrapnel struck both the target and the woman standing nearby.
Val never felt the rain of razor sharp metal fragments as they struck her. Most bounced off of her Lizzie-like force screen and the few that did slide through that were stopped by her supersuit. She had eyes only for her brother who had fallen at her side. He’d been hit 7 times, including once in his unprotected head. Her hands, lightning quick, used the bandages in her kit to stop the bleeding but she’d no idea of the possible internal damage. All the while she’d dropped her visor down, replaying the entire event.
Maggie was ahead of her and had already backtracked the missile back to its point of origin. Knowing she’d done all she could for her brother, she needed to make sure everyone else were safe from this newest danger. Following her HUD‘s directions, she sped there, crossing the mile or so in a mere breath. The static charge in the air was less now, although lightning was still randomly striking, giving the whole scene an unreal feel. She was unsurprised to find a pair of well hidden soldiers, who had ridden out Kiloton’s wrath.
The mammoth gun in front of them received all of her anger. Using every ounce of strength she had, Val ripped the offending thing apart even as her fingers dug indents into the steel. The rending metal partially assuaged her anger. The startled looks of the crew did the rest as they saw her fury.
The sergeant held up his hands and urged the other to as well. After dropping the field phone he’d been holding, the other followed suit.
“Doesn’t matter anyways. HQ’s gone again. Lost them right before …” the young soldier shut up as the older sergeant gave him a nasty glance.
“Shit!” he muttered and closed his eyes in pain. “Now, I remember.”
He looked up at Val who still trembled in anger. “Now I know him. You’re a speedster like Vroom. That makes our target Captain Blazzar. Congratulations Hennessy, we just shot one of the good guys.”
The younger man looked at him confused. “But we confirmed with HQ, not once but twice!
The Sergeant wincing explained, “Ma’am, I am sorry. I just didn’t recognize him. You should know that there were to be 3 other teams like ours out here. We were told a group of terrorists were going to attack. I know it’s small consolation, but I am sorry,” he said in sorrow.
Holding onto the reins of her temper, she asked, “You say your Headquarters confirmed you had the right man?”
The younger nodded. “Yes Ma’am. Twice, and the Sergeant asked me to confirm too, but I didn‘t know him.” Bewildered he asked, “Who is Captain Blazzar?”
Letting her breath out slowly, seeking calmness, despite the torment of her heart, she replied before racing off to look for those other snipers. “My brother.”
Her senses spread wide, looking for the others, she overheard the Sergeant say to his younger companion, “I think maybe we’re going to live. Let’s make a lesson of this. Never ever let someone volunteer you for some cushy assignment. Grab your gear. There’s wounded out there and we’re going to help. On the way I‘ll give you a little history lesson about Captain Blazzar and the Rocketeers.”
Technician James Farris watched the telemetry for all the Hydra and Meridian subjects, plus one. The control window for their implants appeared on his monitor. He had a front row seat in the command center for the whole show. However with Dr. McClellan and the commanding General of Area 61 standing right at his shoulder, he had little time to enjoy the experience. The young scientist-technician was far too busy monitoring these extraordinary youngsters. He’d just activated the small devices implanted in each of the subjects designed to render them safely unconscious.
One of the active Hydra teams were a mess, according to the information their suits and implants were relaying back to him. The Meridian team’s readings were a little weird. Although surveillance showed none of them had been seriously injured, they had been banged around out there, but their telemetry showed nothing. According to the data stream, they could still be asleep back in their quarters.
Still, they were mutants, and they had recently undergone Dr. McClellan’s process. Who knew what was normal for them any more? Besides, speaking of which, the good Doctor was literally looking over his shoulder, so if something was seriously wrong, he would know, right?
As for the ‘plus one,’ Ms. Vroom, her newly activated data link was sending back a wealth of exciting readings. She was racing at an average speed of 350 mph and all of her vital signs were extremely abnormal. He’d never seen anything like this before. What he could tell was she's so far off the charts that she brought a whole new meaning to the top most powerful mutant category of Omega. And yeah, if he was reading this right, she was really, really, pissed.
That was a very bad combination, since James had a very good idea the two responsible were standing right behind him. If and when she caught up with them he wanted to be far, far away.
The Hydra teams responded to the sedatives as expected, but strangely, although their implants acknowledged receiving the commands, the Meridian subjects weren’t showing any signs of going under. For that matter neither did Ms. Vroom.
Suddenly his monitor flickered and then things went really crazy. James stared at the skull and crossbones laughing at him from his monitor. He’d known that Area 61 was instrumental in coming up with the computer virus that had helped defeat the Alien Gray invasion years ago. It seemed someone else also knew, and had returned the favor, flying the same flag so to speak.
The lights went out completely, leaving only the battery operated emergency lights. The huge wall-size monitor flashed strobe-like with the mocking skulls. James heard the curses as everyone tried to respond to this newest crisis. He was a geneticist specializing in supra-humans. This was so far out of his abilities, he didn’t have a clue of what to do.
Then he was thrown from his chair! Sprawled on the floor, James gaped, as the old Doctor who’d manhandled him, manically typed in a continuous rattle. How had that almost 70 year old man tossed him so easily? James wasn’t the biggest guy in the world but his 200 pounds didn’t make him a light weight either.
The General rushed over and he overheard the two senior men talking. “Not to belabor the obvious General, but we have been virused. I am back-dooring into the mainframe, trying to moderate the damage. It got through our filters, piggybacked on the telemetry signals,” Dr. McClellan explained.
The military man didn’t look at all happy in the washed out lights, like something from an old black and white film. “How bad is it Doctor? We’re in the middle of an ‘A’ One crisis. Without command, control, and communications, C3, this could turn into a wildfire,” he said, with special emphasis, giving the senior scientist a look James didn’t quite understand.
One of James’s fellow techs reported, “The main power grid is down, and so is everything connected to the BMAC. That isn’t even physically on the same network. All command functions are down and so is security. On a positive note, emergency services such as medical, environmental, and the elevators are still online.”
Dr. McClellan, said over the rattle of his keystrokes, “That’s because they weren’t targeted by this. It is almost AI-like the way this attack is going after every function, except for a few vital ones, to prevent lost of life. It is a work of art and if we can preserve a sample it will make for an interesting study. However at this time, I can‘t stop what it has already done. I can only try to keep it from inflicting more damage by shutting down systems before it gets to them.”
The General looked real unhappy hearing that. “Dr. McClellan that is not what I wanted to hear.” Turning for the main console he said, “Let’s hope for our sakes that the Hot Line is still up, otherwise I hope you can run very fast Doctor.” Picking up the phone, his face took on an indescribable expression. Slowly he shook his head and sat down heavily.
James was getting a really bad feeling about all of this.
Master Security Control for Area 61
Location: Top Secret.
Operative Number 11 kept wiping his clammy hands. They’d been briefed about what was going to happen at Area 61. But no one knew just how bad it was going to get. As soon as they'd ejected the damn thing, it had cut loose with a EMP that had knocked out power to the entire region. Reports were still coming in, but Las Vegas and Reno were definitely in the dark. Gawd only knew how far out and bad it was.
What he did know is that it had knocked out one of their secure comm lines. Then things got serious. Two unknown women got involved which raised all kinds of security flags, but at least they were trying to stop the monster codenamed Kiloton.
Just so things didn’t get too boring, the experimental subjects from Project Meridian had shown up after apparently escaping. That really made no one here happy because that was why they were here after all, to make sure none of the dangerous projects there at Area 61 got loose.
Kiloton just had to blow the flak up, and let loose with another EMP that screwed up the power grid even more. In the process, it took out yet another of those comm lines that were supposed to have been shielded against everything man and Gawd could throw against it.
Down to one vital line, they saw just how much damage a 10kt nuke could do. One of their experts who’d rushed in still dressed in his PJ’s and robe, thought it might have been bigger, but had been partially contained by the powerful magnetic fields projected by the Hydra and Meridian teams. What it did do was shake the hell out of Area 61, two miles underground or not.
Then on the heels of that disaster, more trouble reared its ugly head. The data was still coming, and it caused Number 11’s mouth to go completely dry. Someone or something was using the disruption to attempt a cyber attack on Area 61. It was so fast that even the well protected computers at Area 61 hadn’t known what had hit them.
Number 11’s own supercomputers were giving a high possibility that it was either AI or AI designed due to how fiendishly quick the code co-opted resources. Immediately, that pointed fingers at the BMAC. Suddenly the recent thefts of computer components from their admin section made sense. That suggested the old AI was trying to escape. Just how it managed to get access to do so was moot. That couldn’t be allowed after it nearly plunged the world into a nuclear war twenty years ago.
The senior Operative began the sequence of events to initialize the Wildfire sterilization protocol. Together he and Number 11, turned their keys. Nodding at each other, as their safety covers popped open, they pressed the glowing red buttons.
Chapter 49
Area 61 test range
Val was racing to the location of the last of the snipers when she got the rest of the bad news. As Maggie’s text ran across her HUD, she sighed. The second of the hidden pairs of soldiers had the bad luck to have gotten in the way of one of Kiloton’s badly aimed blasts. Those were going to be a closed casket funerals. The third hadn’t been as unlucky but hadn’t been dug in deep enough, so they were badly injured from Kiloton going critical. As she approached the last team, it didn’t look as if they were in any condition to hurt anyone either. She quickly tapped out her own message back to Maggie, giving the location of all these wounded, as she composed her reply to the bad news.
“Gus was hit bad. As good as The Rocketeer supersuits were thirty-five years ago, that shrapnel was designed to penetrate bulletproof materials. I’m a reasonable battlefield medic, but he needs a surgical team STAT. All of Max’s clones are out. I’m guessing their implants have been activated. However those caught in that blast needs help now!”
Her lover had also confessed to doing a bad thing. “Val, I hate to say it but the nearest help is back at Area 61. But I think I may have done a really big Oops. I never expected we would have to return to that place after we’d left.
“I was a little upset by our first escape attempt failing because I didn’t catch that backup system hidden in your implants. When I re-engineered that supra-speed suit for you I dug into my own bag of tricks. If someone tried to activate any of the built-in overrides and control functions, they would get a really nasty surprise. Big Mac and I designed one mean mother of a cyber virus that will kick ass and take names.”
Val couldn’t really blame Maggie, because unless someone tried to use her suit against her, nothing would have happened. At least she knew what that whole warning that about “counter measures” was all about now. Hell, she never expected to have to return to Area 61 either.
But Gus was badly wounded and needed immediate medical attention. That was not even taking Max’s 12 kids into account. Half of them were just as badly off as Gus, and like Maggie said, Area 61 was the nearest medical help. The Buggy couldn’t carry everyone who was hurt, and even as fast as it was, it would still take time they didn‘t have to get to a hospital.
One thing's for certain, she wasn’t about to leave Gus to the Air Force’s tender care, seeing how they just tried to assassinate him. Now that Val’s secret was in the open, and given the way she’d been treated, Maggie wasn’t about to leave Val behind here either. That left Ollie and the Kids, who were probably too stubborn to leave too.
That left Area 61, and Maggie’s little present which was no doubt busily trashing every computer in the joint. That was good because that meant Laramie and Doc were out of the command loop, sitting down there while all that silicon was melting around their ears.
That was also Bad. If their unseen watchers thought things had spiraled out of control, and that the inmates were escaping, they just might, just might mind you, push that little red button to blow them all to kingdom come.
She shook her head. That was always the problem with Slow-Time. It gave her too much time to double think things. What was important here was Gus’s only real chance to survive was Area 61. Val wasn’t about to lose her brother, not after she had finally found him after so long. Then too, there was the promise she made to Max.
She could count as well as anyone, and she knew that 30 of Max’s clones had been taken away and that so far she could count only 12. Even with the one Maxi-Lizzie that she knew had died, that still left 17.
Val had spent her life rescuing those whose only crime were being born different, a mutant. At first it’d been only from the bigots and organizations like the Humanity League. Then as the laws had started to get more discriminatory against mutants, her foes had expanded to include the government, and in particular, ULTIMATE.
She had lost everything she’d held dear to the Interests of National Security, and so called sacrifices for the greater good. Val had seen first hand how power meant to serve and protect could be corrupted. She had come to admire the State motto of New Hampshire, “Live Free or Die!,” but preferred the paraphrased sentiment from a speech by General Patton, who Lt. Laramie use to quote all the time to the Rocketeers. “Let the other poor dumb bastard die for his beliefs. You live for yours”
There was no way she was going to leave even one of Max’s Kids to someone like Laramie’s tender mercies. Tapping on her touch pad, she wrote, “We’re Staying. Gus and Max’s clones. I don’t trust the Air Force. Risk of double cross and of self-destruct nuke. Topside should be safe. Find a way Home.”
Maggie replied immediately. “No. I’m the medic and will go with wounded! You’re the best able to find transport. Besides I still might be able to find some way to disarm that bomb. “
“I’ll remove implants from clones not too badly hurt. Maybe you can put them up with Ollie in the Buggy. “
“I know you’re worried about your brother, but you know you’re the best one to get us out of here. Now go!”
Val sighed. Maggie was right. Now the question was, where was she going to find something big enough to haul almost forty people, with 7 of those critically injured? Assuming the docs could stabilize everyone so they could be moved of course.
She was only too aware that time was not their friend. This whole place was going to be swarming with trigger happy gung-ho military types, and she already knew Laramie wouldn’t help them. Grabbing those Humvee ambulances and heading into the desert wouldn’t work for long. No, they needed air transport, and preferably an air ambulance with enough range to get them out of the country.
Out in the distance, a glowing ball of light, sparkling under the fading aurora, caught her attention. Val watched it for a long moment as it got closer, thinking that it just couldn’t be what she thought it was. Then on the other hand, sometimes one had just to ask, to receive.
Josh’s boots crunched on the glass as he hurried over to the little girl laying sprawled on the heat fused ground. Using his power to see through others' eyes, he’d helped send his teammates after those Maxi-clones that’d been mostly unhurt by the fight but had instead been knocked out by that crap the Air Force had stuck inside of them.
Kneeling beside Maxi-Lizzie, his eyebrows rose as he saw the scar on her forehead. This was the same clone that’d gone a little crazy, but whom he’d helped calm down. Josh exhaled. So Dr. McClellan had found a way to make their temporary lives more permanent.
Picking her up, he hustled over to where Maggie was removing those things from within them. Ollie had brought The Rocket up, and as soon as the blond woman had finished with one, they were moved inside and strapped down.
No one had said anything, but Josh had figured out they were staying. Maggie was jumping around like crazy between those hurt really bad and trying to keep the Air Force from getting their hands back on Max’s clones.
The Humvee ambulances were just getting there and the medics were jumping out to help. But the Air Force police guys were arriving too and he didn’t think they were there to help. He’d heard ‘Code Joshua’ just one too many times to think of them as anything other than trouble. Then it happened.
Maggie looked up as she worked. Her blue eyes sent him an unmistakable message. She was busy trying to save these kids’ lives and didn’t have time to deal with these cops.
Josh nodded back at her, understanding what she was asking. He would take care of it. Looking around he found who he was searching for, Malik. The buff teen had just returned from bringing back the last of Max’s clones. Catching his eye, Josh tossed his head towards the Air Force police headed their way.
Surprised, Malik gave him a questioning expression, but smiled as Josh grinned at him. Together, they turned to walk towards the on rushing guys in blue.
James was still scrambling to his feet when Dr. McClellan shouted, “General! Your override code, input it now!”
General Laramie sat up, his eyes brightening as he understood. The young scientist watched as both men started typing like mad.
The flickering black and white Skull and Crossbones blinked out and was replaced by a timer display reading 30:00. Then both the Doctor and the General sighed as it began counting backwards. 29:59.
Dr. McClellan explained, “I’ve only got partial control back, but that was enough to let us override the immediate execution of Wildfire using the emergency evacuation protocols. However all communications are still out, and the clock is running. I would suggest we get as far away as possible.”
James watched as the General nodded, taking command. “Listen up! The self-destruct has been activated. We’re evacuating. Let’s move it people!”
He didn’t need to hear anything else. James was already heading to the door as fast as his feet could carry him. He ran into the crush of other civilians running for their own lives.
Looking back behind him, James saw the General leaned back in his chair as the room emptied. His last glance before the press of bodies forced him from the room reminded him of a captain going down with his ship.
James firmly decided he would leave the melodramatics to the military types. He wasn’t going to die down here! Like the rest he pushed his way towards the exits, striving to survive.
In route to Area 61 from Las Vegas
Colonel Randolph Hodges, commander of ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade, had to use an act of iron will not to start whistling “The Ride of the Valkyries” as his V-22C command ship carried him into battle. The sky about him hummed with the powerful engines of over a hundred armed aircraft carrying hundreds of power-armored troopers. His people had done an outstanding job of keeping their gear mission ready, and despite the EMPs had still gotten nearly every machine into action.
Reports were still coming in, but the entire area had been slammed hard by the EMPs. Most communications were still out due to the same interference that was causing that aurora overhead. Landlines were still mostly operational, but hospitals and aircraft that’d been in flight, had been hit hard.
They were still some minutes away from Area 61, but SRT One should be entering the Area of Operations (AO) now. The US Air Force units in the area and at Edwards had been closer to the source and so were still recovering.
Many of his troopers were ex-American military and the rumors he and his staff had passed around that a group of mutants might be responsible for the attack were having the desired effect. They were mad, with blood in their eye, and that was just what he wanted.
His unwritten orders had been very clear. It was past time for the abomination of Area 61 to be lanced. It was bad enough for mutants to be tolerated, but to seek to empower the gene corrupted filth was outrageous.
With communications and satellites down, it was the perfect opportunity to not only leave Area 61 as nothing more than a smoking hole in the ground, but to make sure any mu-taint experiments become extinct. With good fortune, SRT One, ULTIMATE’s own tame mutants, would be caught in the middle and exterminated as well. After all the only good mu-tainted was a dead one.
Still no word from SRT One’s controllers, but no matter, his own RAH-66 Havoc scouts would soon be on station. Colonel Hodges shared a glance with his chief of staff, Major Baka. Both of them were strong believers in Humanity, and had no use at all for these so-called next step in evolution. They gave each other a shark-toothed grin. Today was going be a good day for the Race of Men.
Chapter 50
Area 61
Val smiled as she watched Josh handle the zoomies. The youngster had come a long ways, and she couldn’t help the pride she felt. He’d simply gave them a choice of wandering around out here blind or helping. The officer in charge had needed only a taste of what the teen could do to convince him. Besides, the poor fellow was on his own out here, without ole Laramie being unable to crisis manage everyone.
Maggie had packed the Buggy full of unconscious but otherwise healthy clones. Ollie had scooted out of reach of the zoomies, leaving only the ones that had to have medical attention. The officer had given in and now were helping the medics load stretchers as they worked to keep their patients alive.
Meanwhile she’d moved down the slope of the ridge to help conceal the glowing bubble heading straight for her. The radiance that had lit it up, was fading now as all that static electricity went away. Looking up she saw that the aurora that signaled the start this whole disaster was also growing dimmer.
That meant communications would be active again soon, and when that happened, all hell would break loose. She had no idea just how far away Gus’s alter-ego’s temper tantrum had been felt, but he must have dumped a crapper-load of charged particles into the atmosphere for that aurora to have lit up the sky the way it did.
That would have knocked radio, and Gawd only knew what else, out. It also meant that the Air Force couldn’t cover this up with some lame excuse like weather balloons or one of the others they had used over the years.
Unfortunately, that probably meant they would go to plan “B”, blame someone else. Someone like her and Maggie who were already on ULTIMATE’s crap list. From what Maggie had told her, their secret identities were probably trashed anyways. Not only hers as Maggie Carson, but both of Val’s as well.
Sighing, the slim woman shrugged. She had always been rather proud of her Valentina Zarya Savitskaya identity. Valentina Tereshkova had been the first woman in space and it had tickled Val pink when she had been adopted by Papa Savitskiy, seeing how he shared the same name as second woman in space, Svetlana Savitskaya. Besides, who would have expected an ex-member of an American national supra-team to run away to the USSR?
Since the USSR had been their expected enemy back in the Cold War days, General Lafitte had all of the Rocketeers tutored in Russian language and culture, just like the Air Force had taught them other stuff like lock-picking and sleight of hand. When she’d discovered that she not only could become the girl she had always dreamed of, but also could choose what powers she had in that form, The Soviet Union had seemed the perfect place to hide from agents of the US Government. However, even though she had repressed all of her talents and abilities, she’d still been singled out as a mutant.
A low powered one, but one of the ‘special’ ones just the same. The USSR, never one to throw away any resource, sent her to their secret mutant city. Val had wondered if she would have to go on the run again, until she had been adopted by Papa and Mama Savitskiy.
The couple already had a large brood of their own and had opened their hearts to the amnesiac girl Val had pretended to be. The family of circus illusionists and magicians hadn’t been fooled by her act for long, but had said nothing, letting their love for her speak for itself. What had begun as subterfuge had instead become her reality, and she’d found herself returning that love. At long last she had a loving family.
As imperiously as a visiting emperor, Pyotr the Great and his entourage arrived at Area 61. Val didn’t have any idea of how he came to be here; right now, at this very moment, she had never been so glad to see him. She had the great pleasure of startling them all when she ran up and hugged her foster big brother with all of her heart.
Inspector Imbert gave the four guards at the gate an amused snort. Unable to communicate with anyone at all they were adamantly keeping him and his rescue party from entering. He really couldn’t blame them because that was their duty.
However their faces were a study after he pointed out that if an above ground nuclear test had been scheduled, they most certainly would have been notified ahead of time. Not mentioning that the last atmospheric test had been almost 30 years ago, as well as such explosions being banned by international treaties.
Not knowing just what the UHAB's orders were, he’d wanted to make sure no one thought he and his little group were trying to invade. Besides, Philippe didn’t get as old as he was by charging into nuclear explosions.
Lighting his pipe, he was content to wait.
Val stepped back to see who her brother had brought with him. She recognized them all. They were all part of Zolotoye-Yablochko’s militia, and each and every one of them were tough customers. She had to smile seeing the tough little Kazakh, Arghun, with them, but that didn’t answer why they were here.
“I’m happy to see you, Pyotr, but why are you here? And you even brought Arghun with you. I didn’t think after the last time you dragged him along with you on one of your road trips that you would ever be able to talk him into another one.”
The small dark Kazhk muttered, “He told me we were going to visit you, and play in the sand. I thought he meant the beach! I should’ve known better,” he said, kicking at the glassy heat fused and cracked ground.
Her brother cleared his throat. “Papa sent me to bring you home. He was under the impression that you had been arrested. Naturally we expected that you needed rescuing, and so I brought some friends to help. Unofficial friends,” he said, making clear this was Pyotr her brother here, and not Pyotr the Great, the Colonel.
“We saw Margaret on our way in, and who I assume was your old friend, flying in that saucer, from your previous time here, so if you’ll get them we can leave. I would rather not face any official scrutiny,” Pyotr told her in a no nonsense tone.
That hadn’t worked when they were teenagers, she sighed, and wouldn’t work now. Despite his effort to keep his face stony, he winced as she began. “Pyotr, there are a few complications. First, Gus Glenn is alive, but to make a long story short, is badly injured. Next it’s not just me, Maggie, and Ollie. There are 6 children involved who were all but kidnapped from their homes.”
Pausing for breath, she saw that Pyotr’s expression had turned into a painful one, as she continued. “And I made a promise to a dying man that I would look after his kids as well, whom at least 6 of those are also badly injured.”
Ivan plainly curious asked, “Six? Just how many did he have?”
She answered, “I know 12 of them are still alive, but there might be as many as 29. And you’ll love this part, although the nearest medical is Area 61, with everything that’s happened, there is a chance the bureaucrats, to cover their asses, will set off the base’s nuclear self-destruct.
“So I’m not going anywhere until Gus and the injured kids can be moved. Even then we’ll need an aircraft set up as an ambulance.” Looking hopefully at her brother. “I don’t suppose you brought one with you?”
Pyotr’s expression was definitely pained now. “As a matter of fact I did, but that is going to be a problem. We have arranged for a Kusbegi for our extraction. As you remember, they are configured much as the American’s SAR, Search Air Rescue, aircraft, so they do have medical facilities. Handling so many would stretch their resources but it could be done. It’s set to meet us at our rally point sometime in the next hour. Someone will have to meet it and guide it here since I’m assuming the wounded can’t be moved far.
“But that’s the problem. It being seen here will be proof our little nation was involved in all of this somehow. That is not a good thing Valentina!” her brother scolded.
“We already have more than our share of adversaries. The United States have cities that are bigger than our entire country! We don’t need them as enemies. Additionally, ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade has been exercising nearby. There just isn’t time!” her brother explained.
Knowing he was right, Val hanged her head. She loved her foster brother, and didn’t want to get him mixed up in this mess. The political fluster-cluck this could turn into because of his involvement was something she didn’t want either.
“Pyotr,” she said. “This is a personal matter, but I don’t deny the likely political fallout from it. I am the adopted daughter of a head of state. To make things worse, I’ve been committing criminal acts here for over two decades. It doesn’t matter that those laws needed to be broken, but the plain truth is, I had planned with premeditation to do so even before returning to the land of my birth. Just by coming home I’ll be causing a problem for our country, but it is and was the right thing to do.
“I didn’t know ULTIMATE was involved too, but seeing how everything has gone wrong, why should I be surprised.
“I can not go with you, but I know you won’t leave me either. If bringing the Kusbegi here will cause that much trouble than another way needs to be found,” she said, crossing her arms.
Her brother’s companions look decidedly uncomfortable witnessing their family argument.
But as he had pointed out, Pyotr was an experienced military commander and knew when to cut his losses. His stone face softened into a sigh. “Val are you absolutely certain about this?” he asked her.
Val spoke softly as she nodded. “Yes. Despite the risks, it’s the right thing to do.”
Pyotr return her nod with an expressive Slavic shrug. Decisively he ordered, “Arghun, you know this terrain better than any of us. Find the closest point we can bring the Kusbegi in and then head to the rendezvous. Let them know what is going on and then contact us when you have them at the new LZ”
Then turning back to her, Pyotr smiled. “Until then, Valentina, it would seem we are at your disposal seeing how you’re the commander on site.”
Val sighed again. “Unofficially of course.” Unlike the traditional Russian military, their militia had been patterned on Spetnaz and other Special Forces units. Unless she was obviously over her head, the commander on the scene stayed in charge because she best knew the local situation even if someone more senior arrived.
Pyotr kept smiling. “Of course.”
She nodded, taking a deep dive into Slow-Time, considering how Pyotr could best help. He and all of his people were dressed in the concealing black battle dress uniforms with balaclavas favored by Special ops units world wide so there wasn’t anything obviously pointing back to Zolotoye-Yablochko. They were all even carrying weapons as part of their disguise. Not that most of them needed one, least of all Pyotr.
Letting the rest of the world speed back up she clicked her HUD, and was glad to see Maggie’s design let her equipment talk to Pyotr’s. She pointed out where the injured American snipers were. “There’re wounded American soldiers here at these coordinates. If you can transport them here to the waiting medics, as well as keep watch for more incoming trouble, that will be a great help.”
Her brother nodded as he studied the map. Seconds later his people were busy as he set them their tasks. “I do hope you know what you’re doing.”
Val feeling the additional responsibility settle upon her replied, “So do I Pyotr. So do I.”
To be Continued.
Chapter 51
SRT-One approaching Area 61
Sapphira kept a close eye on the in-flight repair she’d had to make after that last EM pulse. Despite the manufacturer’s guarantee that all the critical components were shielded versus EMP, one failed. To be fair, she didn’t think they were thinking about multiple exposures, but in any case she was able to jury-rig a repair.
The good news was that almost twenty minutes had passed since the last high energy event. Above them the aurora was fading and that lightning barrage had spent itself. That was a really good sign that perhaps the worst was over.
The bad news was, they were now of course behind schedule. An irate Major Thomas was breathing down her neck because of it. Unfortunately, the malfunction she planned for his aircraft had to be aborted, because of that shockwave and the EMP that damaged one of their V-22’s for real. Unfortunately it was the wrong one. Getting them back in the air had thrown off her plans and now the UHAB was too close behind them to risk making a run for it. So rather than hijacking their own transport and heading south of the border, they were stuck carrying out this forlorn hope of a mission after all.
That created another problem. Like all of his ilk, Major Thomas seemed to think he knew more about tactical operations from his time behind a desk than the ones with their boots in the muck. She’d overruled his demand that they go in low and fast. This was a recon and rescue mission, not an assault, or at least that had been what she’d been told. In any case, she didn’t want the US Air Force, whose airspace they were violating, to get trigger happy. Besides, Sapphira wanted to get a good look before getting closer, considering her insider information from Inspector Imbert.
Their V-22 aircraft possessed an excellent sensor suite, and she meant to make use of it. Multi-tasking as they approached, she used her powered armor systems to tap into that system.
The still smoking crater where that nuclear device detonated loomed in front of them, clearly visible. Sapphira still didn’t know just exactly what kind of explosion that had been, since it lacked most of the radiation one expected of an atomic bomb. What she did know was she didn’t want to be anywhere nearby if it happened again. Scanning the area, she found a cluster of vehicles and personnel nearby. From what she could see, they were rescue vehicles and were busy with recovering their wounded.
The crew chief gave her the thumbs down, that so far their communications request had gone unanswered. She shrugged, unsurprised. Whatever had hit this place knocked out power and services to the entire region. It wasn’t news that these people at ground zero were hit harder than the rest of the area. Giving that huge crater another glance, 'a lot harder,' she thought to herself.
However, they were picking up the pieces down there, that in itself suggested that whatever happened was over. The good guys had won, or at least driven off their attackers. But not without casualties, she sighed, looking at the flashing lights of the military field ambulances.
Sapphira was about to order their pilot to set them down to offer assistance when Major Thomas abruptly cut her off.
“There!” he radioed, sending a blurry sensor image of two women dressed in black. “Do you see them? Those are the felons Kali and Tech-Witch! Arrest them immediately!” he demanded.
She shrugged at the chief who had made a rather nasty gesture at their handler’s command. It seemed the Inspector had been correct yet again, and true to their MO, the two ‘felonious’ mutants were aiding mutants in trouble.
She wondered if it was worth it to point out this was an American military installation and under Federal jurisdiction. By the terms of ULTIMATE’s charter with the United States, they had no power to conduct arrests without the accompaniment of US Marshals in these circumstances.
However, what she could do was take Major Thomas temporarily out of the loop. “SRT One acknowledges,” Sapphira replied. “One to pilot! We’re deploying,” she said, gesturing to Bernado.
Her second in command got the rest of their team ready to exit. By the time the V-22’s ramp lowered they were ready. A quick double check, and they dove off out their A/C. Sapphira as jumpmaster, waited a scant second to make sure all was well, before she too stepped off the ramp.
Her suit’s jets roaring, she joined her team in their plummet to earth.
Val watched as Ollie kept the Buggy in a watchful hover over the convoy of ambulances racing back to the medical facilities at Area 61. Alright, Gus and the kids were on their way to the hospital, and Maggie was going along to keep the docs honest. Josh and Malik had attached themselves as her body guards which didn’t bother Val at all. Between those two they had the brain and brawn angle covered.
Amanda, Malak, and Billie had stayed topside with Lizzie. The six year old was far too young to be mixed up in this stuff. Val hoped all of tonight’s events hadn’t ensured the young girl a string of therapists in her future.
A quick trip to the hanger area confirmed her suspicions the aircraft there weren’t usable. There was a certain point, that if you were too close, that no amount of shielding helped. The one plane that had suitable seating, medical facilities and range to take everyone out had all of its electronics melted down.
It was up to Pyotr and his people now. The Kusbegi was exactly what she needed, but Val didn’t want her home at war with the good old USA any more than her brother did. She started thinking of just how they could manage the impossible.
She didn’t doubt trying to use another vehicle as an intermediary, and transfering everyone from one to the other, would increase the jeopardy Max’s kids and Gus were already in. Okay, so how to get in close? Most of the electronics were out, and that just left the people. Just chase everyone away from the LZ perhaps, but all that had to go wrong was for them to miss just one person. Maybe if Josh used his power to mislead or hide the Kusbegi’s origins. He could blanket the whole area and … That was as far as she got before Bob, one of Pyotr's people warned, “Inbound. Two V-22s from the southeast at 4000 meters.”
Recognizing Bob the intell expert and brick as one of those she and Maggie had rescued, Val asked, “ID?” At that height, someone was giving them the look over, but it could be the Air Force, ULTIMATE, or several others that operated the tilt-rotor. Which one, would tell a lot about the flavor of trouble heading their way.
A heartbeat later, she was standing by his side as he observed their visitors. “Lead ship’s ramp is coming down. Looks like, yeah. We’ve got jumpers,” he reported.
Looking up, Val couldn’t see much even with her visor. Visibility was still wonky with the fading radiance of the aurora, and the on coming dawn. Bob’s equipment was bulkier, but specialized for this kind of thing. She supposed that was a good thing about him having super strength because of all the goodies he could bring with him.
“Five jumpers, plus one.” He paused. “I confirm the aircraft as ULTIMATE’s and jumpers as probably their SRT One.
Val shook her head. It doesn’t rain that it pours. The Supra-Reaction Teams were ULTIMATE’s supra-heroes but were mostly useless. They were just the bureaucrats attempt to control every mutant they could get their hands on. The effective ones tended to be either real head-cases or just so damn good they could buck the system, teams like SRT One.
This wasn’t a fight she wanted, since this was one group that was at least trying to do the right thing. “Pyotr we have a situation.”
Her radio replied, “I’m aware. I’ve dropped off the last of the wounded and am en-route to you.”
Their visitors were still drifting down when Pyotr landed next to her. “Well, they don’t seem to be in hurry to get down here are they? So what’s the plan?”
The rest of Pyotr’s people were making their way to them, with the exception of Katrina who was laying out her arsenal of weapons, assembling something that was no doubt long range and deadly.
Val cleared her throat as she watched Number One’s suit's jets burning bright as she kept pace with her descending team. “They seem to be cautious, so I thought I would try convince them that we have everything under control so they could go home.”
Her brother grinned back her. “Baffle them with buffalo chips, yes?”
She struck him lightly on his shoulder. After her secret came out to her adopted family, Pyotr had been mad to learn English while in his Rock music phase. His Americanese slang was as good as hers.
Well two can play that game. “Da,” she said in a thick Russian accent, “Take this job and shovel it,” as SRT One members landed, taking in their chutes while their power-armor suited leader kept watch from above.
Well this should be interesting.
Chapter 52
Area 61
Sapphira landed lightly, letting her suit jets whine down. She had taken the time to carefully examine the area as well as the people waiting for her to land. First her data link with her V-22’s sensors located the one Major Thomas identified as the Tech-Witch. She’d departed with the departing ambulances with the wounded.
However Kali, if that was she, calmly waited for them. The slim woman matched the general description with her black streamlined full face helmet and uniform, but this one’s suit was of a different design. Instead of a form fitting slick wetsuit-like or the aerodynamic racing suits skaters use, this one had a pattern of thicker material on the limbs and shoulders. However, despite the differences, there was a really good chance that this woman was who Major Thomas thought it was.
With her were four men and one woman in the all black military uniforms, festooned with gear common to special operation soldiers. They all carried weapons, and appeared to be normal humans, even if two of the men were huge and gave some doubt to that assumption.
A little farther away were four girls ranging in age from their mid-teens to one who didn’t look more than 6 or 7. They were the only obvious supra-humans here dressed in uniforms that resembled the old Rocketeers’ who were once based here out of Area 61.
Speaking of which, she also spotted the gaudily painted silver and red saucer that group once used as their team transport vehicle, The Rocket. Its pilot kept the silver saucer down low and mostly hidden but her sensors located it anyway.
Frankly, the Greek heroine hadn’t decided just what she was going to do. Thinking about it, her orders were to determine what had caused those power disruptions, and to prevent another. Since ULTIMATE seem bound and determined to begin an incident, she was predisposed to throw a wrench into their plans. Well, let’s try diplomacy, she decided, and signaled her team to back her.
“I’m Number One of ULTIMATE Supra-Response Team One,” she introduced herself. “Earlier tonight, three high energy events disrupted power and communications from Reno to Las Vegas. Two of them were Electro-Magnetic-Pulses, but the other was some kind of nuclear explosion. Perhaps a frizzle with little radiation but still created a fireball and shockwave,” she said, nodding her head at the 200 yard diameter crater nearby. “We’ve been sent to investigate. Since your communications are out, I had no choice, but to violate your no fly zone given the seriousness of the events.”
The woman in black took off her helmet. Sapphira with her perfect memory immediately recognized her from a series of television ads featuring outdoor activities and feminine hygiene products. Her dark hair and fine features were marked by the helmet’s padding, and she could see evidence of a battle from discoloration and scorch marks on her uniform.
“I’m Valentina Zarya Savitskaya, one of these children’s instructors. If you look, you’ll see I’m registered in your files as Dixie Belle. Pardon my different uniform, but this one was designed by one of the researchers here, for my use while here.”
“Since I have the courtesy rank of Captain, and Peter here is only a lieutenant, I must advise you that you’re on a restricted Federal military reservation and ask that you leave ASAP.”
“On the other hand, you’re right. We did have a little problem tonight. One of our student’s powers ran out of control, and that was unfortunately the cause of those high energy events as you called them. We have regained control now. However things are still hectic. I must ask you again, to leave. Already once tonight we’ve had injuries because of jittery nerves, and mistaken identities. I very much don’t want another. Please tell your superiors to give us some time to sort everything out. I’m sure a statement explaining everything will be made as soon as possible,” the courtesy ranked Captain said.
Sapphira’s onboard database confirmed Ms. Savitskaya’s identity, if not her instructor status. Her request that they leave was reasonable, and made sense considering that SRT One was trespassing. She’d already decided to burn her bridges tonight. Perhaps, she did have a chance to defuse any more trouble. All the better if she could get her people out of here without a fight. They could then disappear on the way back to Vegas.
She clicked on her radio to explain the situation to Major Thomas.
A chance she wasn’t given. “How dare you cut me out!” he raged. “Arrest that woman at once! Find that other one and arrest her too,” he said, sounding as if he was foaming at the mouth.
Once again she tried talking some sense to him. “We’re on a Federal military reservation, and we have been officially asked to leave. Besides we don’t have an arrest warrant nor the authority.”
Brazenly, he shouted back over the radio, “I will not stand for this insubordination! If you don‘t carry out my orders ASAP I will activate your team's implants. Yes, yours too. I bet even with that so-called superior intelligence of yours you never knew even your team’s tracking implants had explosive charges,” he said snidely.
Sapphira’s face went stony. “Major Thomas I really wouldn’t advise that,” she said. “Under the circumstances I can not obey your orders, which are clearly illegal. Threats of deadly force against my team and myself are uncalled for. I can however guarantee that if you try to carry out your threat you will regret it.”
She hadn’t known that even her implant had been rigged, but that just made her certain her decision, to end her association with ULTIMATE, was the right one. However that also created a problem. Sapphira had thought it a cute touch to relocate all the implants to a rather sensitive area of Major Thomas’s Peacemaker powered armor suit.
Two firecracker sized explosives going off down there would be very painful but were probably not crippling or life threatening. Five of them changed the equation significantly.
“Number One you have 5 seconds to carry out my orders. I’m not bluffing, you bitch!” their handler threatened.
She simply listened to his countdown while she contacted the pilots of his V-22. “I think the Major is about to activate a function on his armor that is about to malfunction. He’s refused to listen to …”
“Bam!”
“Reason,” she continued. “Please inform the UHAB that I have met with representatives from Area 61, and they have informed me the emergency has been contained. The authorities on the ground have given us notice that we must evacuate the area. After you’ve sent that message, please standby while we arrange for a LZ for our V-22 to pick us up.”
Valentina Savitskaya and the others with her were looking at her expectantly. “It seems our observer has suffered a bizarre armor malfunction that has driven him to believe that you, Ms. Savitskaya, are a wanted felon codenamed Kali. He demanded we arrest you, disregarding the simple fact we have neither the approved warrant nor the necessary accompanying Federal Marshall the treaty requires.
“Unfortunately the malfunction became severe enough that it finally disabled his armor. I understand that his injuries are not life threatening, but perhaps this incident will motivate him to a more comprehensive pre-operations check of his equipment.
“Be that as it may, if you would inform me where to direct my pilot, we will get out of your way. We don’t want any misunderstandings as to our intentions,” she concluded.
It didn’t escape her how still they all got when she mentioned the word arrest. However since Sapphira had just about had it with ULTIMATE, she really did not care that she was warning a wanted felon that her pursuers were closing in. Besides, seeing how Kali or Athena, as the inspector called her, helped mutants escape to safety, she and her people might very well need that kind of help before this was all over.
Ms. Savitskaya gave her a mischievous smile. “I would suggest the base airfield. It is a short hike, but your pilot would be less likely to suck any of this glassy residue into a turbine which I’m sure wouldn’t do them any good. Please, under the circumstances, let us escort your team for we don‘t want any misunderstandings either tonight. Or rather should I say this morning?” the Acting Captain said with a tired sideways smile.
Bernardo gave Sapphira a nod as he got the team moving while she made small talk with their hosts. Up ahead, she could see their V-22 descending for their pickup. Inwardly, she crossed her fingers that they would get away with this. Her powered armored suit could do many things but the simple act of crossing her fingers wasn’t one of them.
In retrospect, her decision to deploy hadn’t been a good one since it separated them from their aircraft, as much as it let her ignore Major Thomas’s orders. Sapphira sighed. Some things just couldn’t be helped. Besides, it did let her hopefully smooth out the situation here.
All the warning she had was a short radio message from her pilot. “Sorry Ma’am. We have been ordered to abort retrieval,” he said with sorrow. Their little party was almost to where their V-22 waited, but could only watch as it roared back into the sky without them.
Anger touched her. 'If he’d really been sorry, the SOB would have ignored that order,' she thought to herself, until a pair of deadly shadows darted over them in a whistling howl. RAH-66 Comanches, stealth armed reconnaissance helicopters, painted in ULTIMATE dark blue. The US had sunk billions into the program for them until deciding they were too expensive and that its needs had changed. ULTIMATE however was only too willing to purchase the swift agile machines, now that someone else had gone to all the work of developing it. Okay, so maybe her pilot did not have a choice after all, with those two making sure their abort order was carried out at gun point.
Turning to her hosts, who were looking on curiously as events unfolded, she explained, shrugging, “It seems headquarters disagrees with my assessment of the situation.”
Cursing with a vocabulary learned in 20 years of military service, Colonel Randolph Hodges assessed his options. He had already sent his SPADs high to serve as interceptors and air superiority. The machines were re-engineered booty from the ’96 invasion and were formidable, but not so much in the ground attack role. They were of more use making sure no one came in, and more importantly, to make sure not a single soul got out, to spread the news as to what really was going to happen this morning.
Damn that mu-taint bitch to hell, he cursed SRT One’s leader. It'd been hoped that their own not-so-tamed mutants would be caught in whatever disaster was going on at Area 61. Not for her to turn around and defect to them! That fool Thomas had evidently blown his own balls off when he’d activated SRT One’s implants. The idiot hadn’t taken precautions against that gene tainted whore pulling a fast one.
Right. He had gotten his advanced recon elements on the scene fast enough to make damn frakking sure his orders that SRT-One’s V-22 abort their pickup. His pilots reported seeing a nuclear ground burst crater, even if the radiation from it was abnormally low. They also confirmed an individual matching Kali’s description was on site.
The report on her indicated that he would need the heavier ordnance carried by his dropships to put her down, so engaging with his recon element wouldn’t be wise. Besides that Greek bitch and her team were one of the targets now, and he had just the plan to take them out as well. Better he keep the RAH-66’s back, and have them keep watch for anyone trying to escape.
Someone at Area 61 liked playing hardball judging from that nuke crater. Well he could play just as tough, and had just the right hammer for the job.
Chapter 53
Area 61’s medical section
Dr.Courtney Hathaway barely glanced up as the lights flickered again. Triage had rushed another patient in, and she was far too busy to worry about what else was going wrong tonight.
The young man of 17 had third, bordering on fourth, degree burns across his back. A quick scan with her powers revealed a broken arm as well as a number of minor injuries. His ID revealed him to be Albert-2. She recognized him as one of the clones Saul Simpson made of Joshua Dean.
Being very familiar with their mental processes, since she'd been the one to reprogram them, she gently touched his pain centers to ease his pain when he eventually awoke. Guiltily, she reminded herself that he wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t programmed him as she'd been ordered. Her loyalty brought her nothing. Dr. McClellan and General Laramie had still pushed her out of the program. Her drive to excel had accomplished nothing but to hurt these kids. Not subjects, nor Project This nor Experiment That Other, just children.
Maybe it was the only way to stop that creature, but did they even really bother looking for another solution? She really didn’t know whether to hate Alan Glenn’s guts for destroying her illusions or to thank him for opening her eyes. At any rate, her so-call career here was over. After she’d managed to pull her fast one when she’d bypassed the program meant to erase Glenn’s memories, she had been shuffled away to another project, one of little importance and no chance of advancement.
Courtney was certain her sabotage hadn’t been discovered, but that the move was simply a way of getting her out of the way. She had to volunteer, of all things, just to make sure she was here when the big event went down. Normally the Air Force doctors and medical staff would be alone in handling tonight’s crisis, but knowing something bad was coming, they were willing to accept help from the civilian staff. She, with her mutant talents and her education, made one hell of trauma surgeon, as Dr. Sinclair, the head military medical doctor, told her.
Working quickly, she set the bones with her telekinesis, while her hands prepped his burn areas for the application of the synthetic skin that would protect and speed the healing of the damaged tissue. In time, it would be absorbed by the new skin. It was an advance that’d been developed here and a reminder that not everything that came from this hole was amoral.
She’d just carefully positioned the syn-skin when a disturbance caught her attention. A quick PSI scan told her that all of Hydra Team Two was being treated, and although hurt badly, they should recover. Courtney left the rest of the procedure to the nurses while she investigated this newest problem.
Pushing her way through the curtains, she found a tall woman, dressed in black assault-like gear that was bulging in pockets and equipment, arguing loudly with Doctor Sinclair. A pair of MPs was standing nearby, but what caught her attention was the wounded man on the gurney.
He wasn’t any older than young Albert, about 17, but while he’d been hurt in that explosion topside, this patient was injured by shrapnel. Her ESPER senses told her that although there were seven entry points, the razor bits of metal had continued to fragment after they had struck. In addition to the one he’d taken to the head, there was internal bleeding and one lung was near collapse.
“Dr. Sinclair what’s going on out here?” she demanded, adding her old bitchiness to her tone as she hurried to the wounded teen.
Grateful for the interruption, he turned to her. “This woman is demanding care for this man, but triage has determined that he is simply too torn up inside. Better we help those we can.”
It was true that the facility was being overwhelmed with injuries that had hit down here and topside. While the Hydra Team had been more badly injured, they certainly weren’t the only ones needing help. However Courtney’s talent told her something else about this problem.
It was in his eyes. Looking behind them with her powers, she learned the truth. Dr. Sinclair had been briefed that if this man was brought in here, he was to make sure the young patient never left. Unable to make himself simply kill the patient with an injection, the military doctor was rather relieved that the badly wounded young man would simply die of his injuries if unattended.
Courtney knew this doctor was just another victim of the General and the Doctor’s ruthlessness and insistence on having Yes-Men here. As their eyes met, and he saw that she could see the truth, the Air Force surgeon dropped his gaze in shame.
The woman hotly demanded, “Is someone going to help him or are you all just going to watch him die!”
Courtney replied, as she quickly examined her newest patient, “I have just finished with Albert, and the rest of Hydra is stabilizing.” She sent a suggestion to him that he needed to make sure of the Hydra team’s condition.
“If you can spare a nurse, I’ll handle this one, Doctor,” she said to him.
Thankful to be let off the hook, he turned to say something but the woman in black interrupted, “I’m a trained medic. I’ll assist.”
Raising an eyebrow, Courtney amended her request. “I need a trauma cart STAT!” All the entry points had been treated very quickly after the trauma, so there had been little external bleeding, but the material used on his uniform was something very different from what was usually employed by the military.
Getting her first real look at the clothing he was wearing, it hit her. This was him, the Creature, Gus Glenn. Pushing past her shock, she looked at the woman in black for help. “We need something to cut this material. The normal shears and cutters won’t work, but he's shredded badly internally.”
She was about to warn the woman that she was going go use her TK to lift him while they stripped the decades old bulletproof Rocketeer costume off, when to her amazement a device assembled itself from parts flying about madly until they suddenly all clicked together.
“Call me Techie,” the woman said, as she ran the devise across the tough uniform‘s surface.
The material parted as if cut by a knife which Courtney knew was flat out impossible. The metal-weave, reinforced Kevlar might be 30 years out of date but still was tough stuff.
Techie smiled. “Sonics. I’ve adjusted the depth to disrupt only the fabric. Always admired that English doctor fellow with the nifty screwdriver. What’s next Doctor?” Techie asked, as they cleared the uniform away.
Courtney didn’t look up as someone pushed a trauma cart over. “Right, let’s get to it.” They had a life to save.
Arghun Bagudur, son of the windswept steppes, ran at a pace the swiftest horses couldn’t match and one that no land-bound machine would dare over the broken ground. He’d stripped off everything except what he absolutely needed. This was a race that he would not lose. Too much was at stake.
Years ago when he first showed up at that lovely valley, so full of blossoms of ancient apple trees, that the Russians were so intent on turning into a city, he'd been alone for so very long. For ages he’d spent his life away from others. He was just too different. Sooner or later suspicions would grow, and after that, hate came on its heels.
For some, it was envy of his long life and youth, while for others it was fear and superstition. The result was always the same. With a ferocious longing, he missed the camaraderie of his fellow warriors who'd long since turned to dust.
And so he spent his time as a hermit until that night when he dreamed true. It didn’t happen often but when it did he listened. This one told of a marvelous city to come. One of mighty warriors, but more importantly, one where perhaps even one such as he might find acceptance.
A city that would be founded in the valley of the grandfather of all apples.
His sharp ears heard the first roars, but he slackened his pace not at all. It was easy to alter his path just enough to most hide him from the sensors he knew aircraft like these carried.
Looking up, wave after wave of armed aircraft thundered overhead. Counting his enemies as he did ages before, from horseback with a bow in his hand, his determination grew. There were sixty of the dropships, and within them rode hundreds of armored foes.
Pushing himself even harder he ran to the rendezvous. Never would he return to that hellish loneliness of being a tribe of one. He would not fail his companions.
Chapter 54
Area 61
Val shivered as her Luck chanted softly. The ULTIMATE helos had backed off, but her Luck’s low ominous tone told of something nearly as bad as Kiloton. Seeing how their involuntary guests from SRT-One had warned them of ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade thundering down upon them, it wasn’t hard to guess at the nature of the trouble.
She sighed heavily. It seemed they weren’t going to get a break today. The blue suited ULTIMATE man on the street didn’t have a very good reputation for being kind to those he was charged with looking after. Everyone called them the Mutant Cops and it wasn’t meant in a good way.
During the time she and Maggie fought their covert war, Val found a few of those 'cops' that were truly devoted to making a positive difference. They however were the exceptions, and as time passed, it seemed more and more were nothing more than thugs and bullies. Nowhere was that more true than the UHAB.
In theory, these were the troops that were sent in after supervillain bases and other hard targets. In truth, while they were sometimes used for such, normally these so-called elite troops were nothing more than Brown-Shirts and Sturmtruppen. She guessed you had to be a student of history to appreciate the difference between soldiers and thugs. The UHAB just ‘happened’ to recruit the most mutant intolerant and bigoted asses into their ranks.
Her brother Gus and the others who couldn’t be moved, were only some of those she now found herself responsible for because of promises and love. But of course the one group in the whole world that she most considered her enemy would come gunning for her. To make matters worse, her adopted brother and companions were here now dragging even more into danger.
Time to make the best of it. “Ollie how are communications?”
The Gray sent back to her, “Short range comms were and are still unaffected. Anything that is not line of sight is still out. Solar activity was very high prior to Kiloton’s breakout and perhaps even played a part in the early collapse of Project Looking Glass. In any case, we are not talking to anyone until after sunrise.”
“Just great!” Val muttered sarcastically. “Ollie, I'm getting a really bad feeling here. ULTIMATE just marooned one of their supra-teams here after they refused to illegally arrest me. Added to that, their HAB is heading here, armed for bear and we can’t tell anyone about it.”
Turning to Pyotr she asked, “Does that about sum it up?”
Grimly her brother nodded. “That about does it. You do realize that if they are planning on what you think they are, that they will have to kill everyone, including all of the base’s personnel?”
Bob the intelligence expert spoke up, “As well as making sure no one dares come in to investigate with modern forensics. Probably will seed a radiological or perhaps a biological agent to contaminate the area for years.”
Looking at her, the big man asked incredulously, “I hope you’re not planning on fighting? The UHAB is primarily an air assault unit, but even with its lack of armored vehicles, it makes up for the lack in having over 100 aircraft in its TO&E. Every last one of them is armed, with two thirds being dropships carrying 10 power armor suits apiece. If that wasn’t enough, they also have a sizable number of refitted alien air to space interceptors that are well able to engage our Kusbegi pickup aircraft.”
Shaking his head, he finished, “Those are long odds for a half dozen of us and some kids.”
“That’s a dozen,” The golden armored leader of SRT-One spoke. “We,” she said, waving her armored gauntlet including her teammates, “find ourselves suffering a change of loyalties.”
Everyone looked at the recently abandoned SRT-One, seeing nothing but resolve in all of their eyes.
Bob took a deep breath. “Alright a dozen, but those are still odds no bookie would ever touch. I know you have your reasons, but sometimes you have to cut your losses!”
Her green eyes looked into his but they were as hard as steel. “Never tell me the odds are against me!”
Pyotr winced next to her, just knowing she was going to say that.
Val ordered her friend, “Ollie you need to get the Buggy out of here. Peter here can give you the coordinates and codes to get you to sanctuary. You should have room to cram the kids in there too.”
“No,” said a voice at his shoulder. All the girls stood there, Amanda, Malak, Billie and Lizzie.
“You’re trying to protect us again,” Amanda said, her arms across her chest. “Stop sending us away! We care about you, and don’t want to see you hurt. Maybe we’re kids, but we aren’t just kids. If it weren’t for us, you never would’ve put Kiloton down.”
Val gave the teens a considering look. “And what about Lizzie? Do you really want her in the middle of what is coming? ULTIMATE may be bullies, but they have a lot of experience dealing with people like us. Even she may not be safe.”
The three older girls gave the six year old a stare, and then laughed. “She was bad enough before she got zapped. Lizzie is a lot tougher and stronger now, aren’t you girl?” she asked her.
Looking up at the circle of adults, Lizzie said solemnly, “Don’t worry I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Peter and Number One’s people were amused at the little girl‘s solemn pledge, but Val was wondering. The force screen she'd inherited from that clone of little Lizzie had been at her pre-zapped power levels. That had been good enough to protect her from being way too close to a nuclear fireball. Doc’s ray gun usually upped ones powers by a couple times, so maybe the girls had a point.
Billie spoke up. “Besides where could we go that they wouldn’t eventually show up anyways? The only difference would be that you wouldn’t be there.“
Amanda joined her. “Ever since I changed, everyone has threaten me with ULTIMATE even though I never did anything wrong. When I tried to defend myself from those that used to call themselves my friends, I was the one who got in trouble, not the ones that started it. If they want me, they can come get me. Besides you said they were flying.”
With the air swirling around her playing with her hair, she grinned. “I’m really good with things in the air.”
Val sighed again. “Peter would you mind having one of your people explain Density Altitude to Amanda. Better warn everyone what's going to happen too.”
“Ok Ollie, new plan. Everyone stays unless any of Peter’s people wants to go. Bob?” she asked.
The big man shrugged unhappily. “I still don’t think it is a very good idea, but I’m not leaving. Besides, I suppose it’s better to face down the UHAB here, where we might see help from the US military, rather than at home all by our lonesome. If we don’t get caught in the middle, this could backfire spectacularly in their faces.”
Val grinned at him. “Good! Why don’t you make sure that you record the whole thing with whatever gizmos you’ve got there to make sure of that backfire you‘re talking about.”
Number One from the SRT added, “I might be able to help with that since I have a recording of everything that has happened so far.”
Turning to face her, the ULTIMATE supra said, “Since my team is now in the middle of this too, perhaps it would be best to let us have an area to defend since we are accustomed to working together?”
Val looking over the team nodded. “Why don’t you defend the perimeter around the elevator shafts and I’ll have Peter and his people cover you since his team has more long range capability than your group. The girls will be at the center doing their stuff and will be our reserves.”
Turning back to Amanda. “I want you all at the elevators, and you need to let Josh and Malik know what is going on.”
Grinning again, Val said, “Since Josh already has an understanding with security, have him explain to them what is going on. If he has any questions, have him go through Ollie, who will be our coordinator.”
She spoke to him, “That cool with you my friend?”
The Gray acknowledged, “Yes Val. Just like old times with the Rocketeers.”
A voice came over the radio that she recognized as the voder device that let the telepathic, though mute, alien speak aloud. “Okay Val. Should not we go to code names with battle in the offering? If so, what is yours?”
Val closed her eyes and breathed in deep. Opening them with a smile she replied, “Why Ollie, is there any other one for me? Captain Vroom of course! Now open a comm line. I want to have a word with our unwanted guests.”
The five men squad moved quickly into position. They'd already completed their primary mission of taking out the last of three secure landlines leading into the base. Those were supposed to be Top Secret but poor security on the part of the contractor gave them the plans and locations. Then all it took was the proper application of explosives and Voila! No more problem!
The point man spotted the swiftly running figure who could only be a mutant. Just as they'd been trained, they set up an ambush. That was their secondary mission. To help eliminate any runners the primary assault missed.
With an experienced eye, the leader waited for just the right time to spring their trap. They needed to do this right the first time. Unlike the rest of their brethren in the UHAB, the recondo/scout teams didn't wear power-armor. Those suits might give one man the power of a light tank, but the damn things were impossible to move in as stealthily as the teams missions required.
Just as men had fought for thousands of years they wore little in the way of protection, depending upon their cunning and skills to stay alive. However when hunting mutants who were often full of unpleasant surprises, putting them down with the first shot was of the utmost importance.
Arghun snorted in disgust. He hadn’t any time to waste and this ambush was so amateurish that any of his ancestors would be ashamed of him running headlong into it. Well, he was in a hurry. Now what could an unarmed man do against five soldiers?
Slipping into an almost light trance state, he felt time itself shiver as it slowed. As with all talented students, the teacher learns as much as the one they instruct. Being the mentor of young Valentina was precisely that way. He passed on centuries of refined mayhem, while she taught this most valuable gift, time. The one thing there was never enough of but couldn't be bartered or sold. In this case, only given.
The first sizzling blast missed, passing behind him as he lunged forward. The next two shots were high as Arghun spent his velocity in a bruising but controlled tumbling roll. A quick forceful slap of the sun baked hard ground sent him cartwheeling backwards towards his assailants. Pocks of sandy earth bit at him as a more conventional light machine gun tried to follow his erratic path.
Throwing himself flat, he grabbed for the boots of the man Arghun picked out as the leader, another crackling blast flew over him. In a move few would believe, the agile Mongolian lifted himself into a headstand, whipping his feet around the squad leaders head. A lightning sit-up had him sitting on the startled man's shoulders. Overbalanced, the man fell backwards. A twist of Arghun's hips was rewarded with a sharp crack as his involuntary vaulting horse’s neck broke.
Back on his feet, he threw the combat knife he'd freed from his victim. Hilt first, it smashed into the goggled protected eyes of the man who'd hesitated firing for fear of hitting his comrade. Arghun, knowing his odds were slim of finding a vulnerable spot for the knife chose to cause his target to flinch. That gave him time to close and attack with a fury of blows.
The trooper's regular impact 3DO-like impact protecting armor absorbed all the power of the strikes by becoming hard and solid. Unable to move for just a second, it left him open for a classic nose, heel strike causing instant death.
Twisting the corpse around as cover, Arghun slipped his hand over its gloved weapon's hand. All of ULTIMATE's agents used identity locked features on their high tech toys to keep them from being used against them. Squeezing the dead man's trigger finger, a long burst of glowing fire blasted the group's light machine gunner.
Two blazing shots struck Arghun's makeshift shield. Pushing it forward at the last pair, he threw the grenade he'd taken from it as he turned. They never noticed that the pin was still safely unpulled
As trained they drove for cover, giving him the priceless instant to charge upon them. Gathering his chi, Arghun released it in massive blow to the man on his left. His goggles shattered, the body fell.
Fire lanced up from the last soldier as Arghun danced aside. Burning pain slashed his side, but that didn't stop him from scooping up that grenade. This time he pulled the pin tossing it lightly under handed at the cover his opponent scurried for.
Then it was his turn to seek protection as he rolled, pulling the nearby corpse next to him. He was up and running the moment after the explosion, but his additional precaution wasn't needed.
They were all dead like so many others he'd fought over the long years.
Tearing open one of their first aid kits he treated his wound as quickly as he could. At least these weapons cauterized rather than tear and rip. Pushing the pain away, he looked up, checking the early dawn sky to re-find his path. This would not be the first time he'd to race time itself hurt and wounded.
It might be the first time, however, that so much depended on him not failing. Focusing his will, he began to run. Behind him, five men laid still, their bodies cooling upon the sands.
Chapter 55
Sapphira Heron walked with this Lt. Peters to the low buildings that housed the elevators going down to Area 61. She and Bob, no last name, had set up three concealed and shielded stations. Even in the event of a worst-case scenario, they would beam out all the data she and the big intelligence specialist had gathered and recorded.
One of the three was data linked to her power armor, letting her feed constant updates so that all of what was going to happen this morning would be saved. Their part of this mess would survive them and would be told.
She could see the larger buildings had suffered damage from the nearby battle and nuke. However even though they were used, were just decoys. The real entrances to the underground complex were the group of smaller sheds housing the elevators going down.
“May I ask what kind of help your people will be able to provide?” she asked the tall man in black.
Smiling like he had a big secret, the tall man replied, “My sister and her sense of humor. I do suppose that she really didn’t lie, but she certainly didn’t tell the whole truth.”
Sapphira had gotten good at spotting body language clues in conversations, since while armored up, her face was concealed. Cocking her head she asked, “Your sister?”
He shrugged. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Col. Pyotr Savitskiy. I’m here to retrieve my errant sister.”
A quick query to her onboard data bank and it all became clear. “The Kusbegi you mentioned earlier. You’re from Zolotoye-Yablochko. Then the name he gave struck her. “You’re Peter the Great?”
Now grinning, he stopped for a moment to wave his people to their positions. “And you’re Sapphira Heron of Greece, sometimes known as Hoplite, or the Golden Amazon.” Tilting his head, he added, chuckling, “I read the papers. Such trash, oh but the turn of phrase they sometimes use to sell their rags.”
She blushed, thankful for once her helmet hid her face. Although ULTIMATE denied them codenames, that didn’t matter for the newspapers who often named them anyways. The bureaucrats did get upset when it happened and of course did what bureaucrats did when angry, generate paperwork. The papers would print retractions, but she often thought the newsies got a certain pleasure from tweaking them. (“We apologize for calling the Golden Amazon, ‘The Golden Amazon’ and we regret using the code name ‘Hoplite’ for the super known as Hoplite.”)
Mistaking her silence, Peter continued, “Don’t worry. My team is very good, and we will cover you as best as we are able.” Finished, he turned and headed for his own position.
It’d been many years since a male had gotten her flustered, but she shook it off. Their very survival was at stake. It was time to get to work and maybe afterwards she would find out if Peter had prior commitments.
Mapping out the terrain, she picked the best locations for her people. Number Five, Joachim, their strongman, she put near the blasted remains of that one elevator because the debris gave him plenty of things to throw.
Placing herself in the center, she put Number Two, Bernardo, on her right since his ranged attacks were limited to his sidearms. The twin pistols she’d designed for him were anything but standard sidearms. However when compared to a dropship’s heavy firepower, he definitely came out second best.
Number Three,Robert, she put on her left. His abilities controlling sound and vibrations could wreak unholy havoc on machines. Useful as well was his talent of shifting out of phase which let him not only walk through walls, but let most lethal attacks pass right through him without harm.
Lastly, Number Four, Mariko, she had behind her. The density changer didn’t have much in the way of range talents, but in close she was deadly. Last year's fight with the Chevaliers had revealed her vulnerability to electrical attacks because of her body’s high gold content. An insulated bodysuit Sapphira had designed for her should lessen that weakness.
What was going to be the worst part of this battle was that ULTIMATE knew all of their Achilles’ Heels. Then she gave a grim smile hidden by her helm. If those goat-humpers were thinking this was going to be easy, they had another thing coming. Very deliberately she cut out all of her safeties. For the very first time, her creation was going to be at lethal full power.
“Well dear friends, shall we show these elite soldiers what a warrior can do?” she asked her team that was as much her family as those of her blood back in Greece.
A round of growls and ayes answered her. Bernardo’s “Come get some!” got muttered laughs.
Amanda took a deep breath as the woman who had introduced herself as Katrina jogged back to her comrades. Lizzie, Malak, and Billie were crouched down behind one of the elevator shaft buildings. Malak was getting ready to put up her magnetic screen while Billie was going to be her wing. While the girl was concentrating on her screen, Billie would be watching, keeping her from harm. Lizzie would be doing the same thing for her.
But Amanda wouldn’t be doing anything like just putting up a screen or making the wind change direction. No. She was going to make this dry cool early morning in the Mohave, hot, windy and wet. Katrina explained to her that hot and humid weather simulates a much higher altitude.
If she could do this, she could make it much harder for the people coming after them to maneuver their planes and helicopters. The problem was she'd never tried anything so, well, big. Making a breeze, or lowering the temperature was easy, but making it hotter and dragging in moisture from somewhere else?
This was a desert, and although it got unbearably hot during the day, all that heat went away during the night. Even during the summer it was cold after the sun went down, plus in their fight with Kiloton, she had drawn off even more energy from the area, making it really cold so Malak‘s magnetic screen could work better. On the other hand, she knew that there was water here from the Geode. It might be deep underground, but it was here.
“Alright,” she spoke to those breezes swirling about that had bedeviled her since she’d had changed. “Let’s do this.”
Closing her eyes, she reached out with that part of herself that always seemed synced with the weather. 'Or maybe it was the local weather being in tune with her,' she thought. Before getting zapped by that Z-ray thing, as Billie called it, she could sorta like see the energy of the weather about her in a more or less local area. The flow of temperatures and pressures interacted in a wild shifting whirling dance. Afterwards she could see them much farther away. Being under the sky, and not covered by miles of rock, she was just starting to realize just how far she could see.
Her self-paced classes concentrated on giving her all the meteorological lessons she could stand. The simulators taught her that if she made a change in the weather here, somewhere else would also be affected, and maybe not in a good way. So perhaps she needed to find something bad that was happening somewhere else and use that. Following those flowing aerial rivers of power, she found a ravening knot of twisting energy. “That’ll do,” she thought, and reached for it.
National Weather Service, National Hurricane Center
Paul Blankenship almost dropped his beloved stained coffee mug. They'd been tracking Hurricane Kyle as it headed up the US east coast, but happily it'd dropped down to a tropical storm before making landfall in Canada. That storm worried the suits, but luck was with them. It’d missed the big population centers. However the potential for disaster kept everyone on red alert.
It being a very active hurricane season, another one, Tropical Storm Laura, popped up on Kyle’s heels in the mid Atlantic. With the staff worn and stressed out, Paul was the one picked to watch this storm, but it looked like Laura would just meander around in the middle of the ocean for a bit before dissipating.
What they did not do was drop so suddenly in strength you could see the damn thing disappearing!
Staring at his area of responsibility, and tired from the non-stop stress, he could be excused for not noticing how the people on the other side of the house were freaking out over the extreme system that'd came out of nowhere over the western state of Nevada.
Chapter 56
Area 61
“Val,” Ollie asked using his voder. “Are you sure this a good idea?”
She was floating about 10’ off the ground with her suit’s lights on. They didn’t provide a whole lot of illumination, but they did make her stand out, which of course was the point. With the addition of that Maxi-Lizzie’s powers she was probably the single toughest person out here.
The UHAB flotilla of combat aircraft depended on expendable munitions for their heaviest punch. Each one she made them waste on her was one less to fire at her more vulnerable companions. With Kiloton and his speed of light blasts, it was his targeting that'd been his weakness. Conventional weapons were almost exactly the opposite. Targeting was computer controlled accurate but the bullets, rockets, and missiles were only supersonic, or in some rare cases, hypersonic. Against those, her own supra-speed gave her a tremendous advantage and she meant to use every trick she’d learned in the thirty-plus years in this business.
“Ollie my friend I’ve never been surer,” Val told him over voice, wanting everyone to hear her confidence. “I just wish I could see their faces when they realize we have them just where they want us! Have you got that hailing channel open to their commander yet?”
“Yes Val. It took me a while to isolate which frequency he was using. You may begin,” the little Gray told her.
Cocking her hip while in midair she replied, “Lets’ do this!”
Commander of ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade, Colonel Randolph Hodges, blinked as a voice broke onto his secure communications channel. Quickly he signaled Major Baka to jam the SOB, but whoever it was had their number down pat.
The woman’s voice spoke calmly and with authority as she gave them her warning. “Attention ULTIMATE units. You are entering Area 61’s no fly zone. You are directed to immediately leave this area. Failure to do so will result in deadly force being used against you. We have official representatives of ULTIMATE here on the ground, and they are monitoring this situation.”
A short pause later, that mutie bitch he recognized as Number One came on the channel. “This is the commander of SRT-One to all ULTIMATE units. The local commanders here have the situation under control. You are advised that further intrusion into their airspace is unwarranted, and will serve only to heighten tensions.”
Another quick wordless chat with Major Baka assured him that whatever tricks they had used to break into his comm net, their broadcast wasn’t being received by anyone else. This pit of corruption was still cut off from the world, and they could do whatever they wanted and no one would know. The mission was still a go.
His advance RAH-66’s were sending back images, but his own command bird was close enough now to see for himself. The telescopic imagers showed the lone woman floating in midair, lit up by lights on her suit.
'By Gawd it was her!' he thought. “And there she has conveniently made herself a perfect target.”
The Colonel keyed his mike. “Who are you to give orders to me?” he said, deliberately not identifying himself.
The woman’s voice responded, slipping into a smooth sexy southern Georgian accent. “Sugar, I’m Cap’n Vroom, and if you boys don’t high-tail it out of here, ya’ll going to git a whooping ya’ll ain’t never gonna forget. Ya’ll git all of that Col. Hodges, sweetie?”
Cutting the channel, he turned to Major Baka with a snarl, “We got their positions locked?”
The Major nodded. For this to work, no records could survive and for the Colonel’s name to be mentioned over the air wasn’t a good thing, however they'd a fix that should cover them.
“Well then! Let’s give this mu-tainted bitch our answer!”
To be Continued.
May the God Lord make us truly grateful for what we're about to receive!
Chapter 57
James Farris swallowed hard, fighting the nausea from the stench of fear that filled the packed elevator. He could almost hear the thoughts on everyone’s mind, “Almost there, almost there, almost …”, urging the ascending elevator to go faster.
Then abruptly the doors opened. Like starting gates at the horse races, they ran down the hallway leading to the surface. Confusingly, military and medical people were still bringing wounded in, as those like James fought to get out and away from the impending self-destruction.
The way out was hopelessly blocked with people, but after wrestling with his conscience, he decided that passing on the word about the Bomb underneath them wouldn’t hurt his chances of getting out.
Looking in one of the side rooms that was being used as an emergency ward, he grabbed one of the SPs. “You need to get everyone out! Everything went crazy downstairs! There’s some kind of self-destruct bomb about to blow. I don’t know how long we’ve got left but it can’t be long.” Feeling that he’d done the right thing, James turned and ran to the exit, hoping the way was now clear.
In his hurry to leave, he never saw the two women working to save the life of the young man on the gurney as they looked up from their labors at the news. Nor did he see the two teens in their blue supersuits, as they too looked at each other.
“Okay, it got worse,” Malik groaned, passing Josh the dollar.
Courtney Hathaway couldn’t spare more than a glancing acknowledgment of the news. She and Techie were fighting as hard as they could to save their patient’s life, but the odds were shifting against them. Whoever designed these diabolical flechettes-shrapnel needed to be shot with the damn things. Rather just tearing holes in their victims, these things actually further fragmented as they traveled. Worse, each one had microscopic spirals and barbs that made the damn things dig even deeper into their hapless targets.
She was using her telekinesis to pick out the tiny darts, but there were hundreds of them. If not for Techie, and her ability to instantly provide whatever she needed, it would’ve been impossible. The scanner the woman in black had whipped up out of spare parts helped her better see just what was happening inside the young man, while the other custom designed instruments kept anymore damage to a minimum.
Courtney hadn’t even tried looking at that head wound, afraid of what she might find. First stabilize the body and worry about that later. What worked in their favor was Capt. Blazzar being such a high order supra. His very physiology was extremely robust, and his physical conditioning was in a class by itself.
That was an oddity because his medical records of old didn’t indicate this level of physical enhancement. As a matter of course, she’d reviewed all the original Project Meridian subject studies. This was more like what she would’ve expected of Joyce Sturm with her absolute goddess-like perfection mutation.
On the downside, he’d been in a state of extreme mental and physical shock. She counted them lucky that none of those flechettes had come close to one of several unique organs, likely associated with his ability to generate extreme high energy manifestations. Who knew what could leak from them; battery acid or maybe even some kind of radiological material.
That list didn’t include outside events that threatened not only her patient, but her own life as well. Elizabeth Tyree had flown in with a note, warning that ULTIMATE was racing towards them, apparently intent on dealing with Area 61 and its research facilities, in the same way fanatics of an earlier time had the Library at Alexandria. Now, James Farris, his name as she recalled, was saying the Wildfire protocols were activated.
That device was designed to destroy anything dangerous trying to escape from Area 61 before it could threaten the world at large. Its yield was big enough to completely destroy the underground complex and vaults, but leave the surface relatively untouched. However that was over 50 years ago and hadn’t considered the type of contents stored down there.
Area 61 might focus on supra-human research, but there were dozens of experiments going on that were cutting edge, pushing the boundaries of human understanding in a multitude of disciplines. Plus there were a pair of fusion reactors providing the power for the complex as well as such as the Z-Ray. No, if Wildfire went off, she doubted that any of them could get far enough away to be safe.
Joshua and Malik, she noticed, had turned to the Air Force security police, and were urging them to help topside with the possible invasion. Techie, not breaking stride as they worked together, said, “Doctor, I have to go. I might be able to stop that bomb with my powers. If I don’t, it won’t matter if we save him or not.”
Courtney nodded. “Go. I’ll do the best I can.”
Techie nodded at a run, heading down while the boys and Elizabeth, with the security cops in tow, went up, both into harm’s way.
Val was already diving into Slow-Time before the first missiles even dropped from the stubby wings of the first wave of dropships. She used her flight to slam her feet to the ground as she sprinted forward. “Eat your heart out Doc!” she exulted, accelerating madly.
The Hellfire 2 AGM-114m has a range of about 8000m. However they were both racing towards each other at insane velocities. She hadn’t cleared more than a few steps before the very air went from being as viscous as water to an impossible gelatinous-like mass, fighting her for every inch as she ran forward.
Her supersuit, by Maggie, was earning its pay, helping to steady her as she slogged forward. Its flight control-like panels were out, making her run easier. Just as important, the force-screen she’d recently inherited seemed to really reduce the amount of drag upon her.
Overhead, the gathering thick clouds were the visible signs of Amanda working her weather magic. A glimpse in her helmet’s mirrors showed the rooster tail of dust and the ground level contrail that slowly formed behind her.
Putting her head down, she pushed harder, faster and faster. Even for her this was difficult, but this wasn’t her first rodeo. This time, with force-screen and suit, it should be easier. The further she got the more difficult it became. Her HUD, this deep into Slow-Time, was often a pain to read, given the flicker rates of the displays, but Maggie did the best she could to tweak them.
Point seven mach ... point eight, the display read, as it slowly changed. Doc and she used to have talks about how she could even breathe at the speeds she ran at. He’d all sorts of explanations, ranging from maybe she was manipulating time rather than simply running fast, to perhaps her rapid healing aiding her. Point nine. She could almost see the wall of compression forming in front of her now. The missiles racing towards her were trying to adjust their course to reach her.
Val smiled. They aren’t going to make it. Their guidance packages couldn’t make course adjustments fast enough. With a burst of effort, she threw herself forward even faster, fighting through the brief but violent buffeting. 1.0 mach. Yeager time baby!
The ground level sonic boom echoed across as suddenly humid air formed a visible shock wave. The missiles targeted on her went wild, passing over her head, caught in her slipstream. The explosions from their warheads detonating mixing with her supersonic shockwave disturbed the other missiles in flight targeted on the other defenders, causing them to crash, adding to the balls of fire headed for the heavens.
Breaking onto the surface, James blinked. That incredible light show from the lightning and aurora was only faded wisps now. What was amazing was the literal wall of heavy clouds moving in, clearly visible in the dawn. He’d grown used to the dry air, but now it was wet with moisture. The humid air that whipped around him made it more like he drank the air than breathed it.
A roar of a helicopter ripping over his head brought him back to earth. The buildings up here looked as if a war was going on. The windows were busted out and one whole side was blackened. His fellow escapees were running to the large bunker-like hangers cut into the side of the mountain, where not only aircraft were kept, but also the buses meant to evacuate them in case of emergency. Normally they were flown in from Las Vegas everyday, and because of that, no one had their own vehicles here.
Another helicopter screamed by, and despite his panic wondered what was going on. He saw that the people up here were surprised by all the techs like him coming up and running for their lives.
Someone yelled at him. “Get Down!”
He half-crouched, not sure why.
In slow motion, like some nature channel program about the insect world, one of those helicopters swooped in and fire flew from it. In front of him, men and women he’d worked, joked, and laughed with were torn apart. What was left was unspeakable.
A boot in his back pushed him to the ground. The owner was a tall blonde woman, who he realized was the one who yelled at him to get down. Dressed like one of those commandos from the movies with all the guns holstered and strapped to her, she was a walking arsenal. In her hands she carried an impossibly long barreled gun she threw to her shoulder as if it was no more than a toy from his childhood.
She rocked back each time she fired at the aerial predators as they swooped down on the unarmed flock of hapless fleeing civilians. It seemed he could even see her shots sparking and ricocheting off their armor. Finally she must have hit a vulnerable spot because it suddenly whipped onto its side, smashing into the tarmac, bouncing, shedding parts and flames as it rolled away.
James was heaved to his feet and shoved back towards the entrance. “Tell them they have to stay below! There is only death up here!” his savior told him.
More fire arced down from the sky as one of the predator’s mates tried to avenge its death. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he was going to die. The moment passed and he opened them to find a shimmering blue globe about him and the blond Amazonian Rambo.
One of the Meridian subjects gave them a thumbs up as the glow popped away. 'Malak,' his dazed brain told him. Magnetism. She saved his life. The Amazon shoved him back down the stairway door where others cowered.
“Tell them!,” she shouted, as she brought her weapon up again.
“This is Recon One. Five and Six are down. Cover me. I’m going to give them a Hell-Fire,” Capt. Frank Adams ordered. His RAH-66 was fast and agile. With its three barrel 20mm Vulcan cannon plus the six tube missile bay, it was one Sierra-Hotel machine. As impressive as all that was, it was still small potatoes next to the heavy armament carried by a V-33 Dropship. That was why his flight was tasked with this secondary mission of making sure none of these mutant loving nerds got out of the killing fields.
He didn’t expect the gene-tainted to care if wrong-headed real humans got shredded, but Capt. Adams had already lost two of his six ship flight. Some mutant bitch using a damn big ass gun had knocked them down. When the flight tried to suppress her fire, another frakking mutant had covered her in some kind of protective globe.
So you can stop a 20 mike mike, but can you stop an anti-tank missile baby?” he muttered, selecting one of the six Hell-Fires he carried in his ship’s internal bay. In a whoosh, the fire and forget missile, capable of punching through the heavy armor on a main battle tank, leapt forward.
“Eat that sweetheart!” he whispered to himself, whipping his helo about.
Billie snagged another white-coated adult desperate enough to try and run across that bloody zone where those helicopters mowed people down. She could see Josh and Malik were coming up the stairs, along with some Air Force guys. Hopefully they could stop the lemming-like dashes of these nuts.
Katrina, the tall blond woman in black, was still blasting away with that cannon of hers. Malak was covering as many as she could with her blue glowing screens, but she could do just so much. That was why Billie was helping drag those she could reach to safety and yet still watch Malak’s shapely back.
Just then some kind of side door opened on one of those damn helicopters and a missile streaked out. “Malak! Missile 2 O’clock!” she shouted just as all those game-like sims had taught her.
Her friend hastily realized that she couldn’t protect everyone nearby if it exploded.
Billie’s mouth dropped open as a blue globe instead flashed around the missile. For a split second it hovered within, suddenly brought to a complete stop within Malak’s magnetic field, then it exploded.
Already once this night, Malak’s powers had been tested to their utmost. She and her almost-sisters, Maxi-Malaks, contained, if just for a nano-second, a nuclear reaction. The energies released from the Hell-Fire ATGM were great enough to burn through the thick armor of a tank, but when compared to how the teen had already been tested tonight, it wasn’t enough.
The globe held and the fires trapped within turned the normal blue into a fiery orange. Straining, Malak held it still.
Billie saw another helicopter swooping in and got an idea. “Malak throw it back at them!”
A flick of the teen’s wrist sent the ball of energy flying at their would-be attacker. The flying machine heeled over hard to avoid being hit, but then Malak released her grasp on her globe. The explosion shook them all, but the now running helicopter awkwardly staggered in the air from the blast, skidding into the ground with its rotors thrashing about like a fish out of water.
Both girls were smiling at their success as Katrina admonished them, all the while firing at another of their attackers. “Don’t get cocky kids. This ain’t like playing in simulators!”
Billie stopped smiling as she saw big looming man-like shapes rushing at them through the dirty dust cloud kicked up by the battle. “Malak,” she warned, pointing.
Pyotr ripped the rotor from one of the light helicopters as he watched his sister’s charge. Her sonic boom caused the entire barrage of missiles targeted at her to miss wildly. Even better, the resultant explosions and concussions also made many of the other missiles flying at the rest of them go in every different direction. Just as long as they weren’t heading at him, he was happy.
He almost missed it as she used her momentum to throw herself upwards so fast that many in the past had mistaken it for her being able to fly. She passed completely through a pair of her attackers, leaving falling burning wrecks behind her. Now it appeared she could even really fly now, as she angled back to the ground, with the mass of aircraft scattering like a flock of sheep with a wolf in their midst.
A wave of his hand took care of the remaining missiles seeking them. Rather than throw them back at ULTIMATE, he simply destroyed them. You never knew what the fusing would be on those things. He didn’t like being surprised by one exploding unexpectedly.
His eyes narrowed. Pyotr was briefed on just how quickly the 10 power armored troopers could be deployed from their parent dropships. Now he got a first hand look at just how fast. In 30 seconds, all 10 were on the ground and moving. When you add in it happening 50 or 60 times suddenly he had hundreds of heavily armed enemies on the ground.
Slapping down one of the hovering dropships onto its recently dropped troops with his TK, he saw another ball of fire and wreckage falling to the ground as his sister did her thing. 'Subtract 20 tin soldiers,' he thought. He threw up a wall of force as another wave of missiles flew at them. Conserving his strength, he used only enough force to set off their payloads. Doing that far enough away meant he didn’t have to worry about their explosives. Even if the warhead survived going through his wall, it stripped off their vanes and maneuvering surfaces. Like his sister said, “Good enough.”
Plus the explosions and dust kicked up helped hide them, forcing their enemies to get in closer. “However, that means,” he thought, as he watched chunks of debris the size of small cars smash into one dropship’s cockpit, while another sheared off an engine pod from a second, “the groups’ strongmen get to come into play”.
Pyotr interrupted his attack on an enemy dropship to throw up a hasty wall to stop a flight of thermobaric rockets meant to create a miniature firestorm. The searing blast wave struck them like a hot summer wind, but he was happy to see one of ULTIMATE’s own aircraft was taken out by the premature detonation. The flaming ball of metal that used to be a multi-million dollar aircraft rolled towards him, but he knocked it aside with a TK fist. Another banked hard, trying to avoid the tower of flames, but misjudged and bounced into the ground, making their own ground troops jump for cover to get out of the way of the knifing rotor blades.
That youngster had done well with her weather magic. Those pilots spent weeks out here acclimatizing to the flying conditions. In just a few minutes she’d changed the equation. By changing the air density, she’d drastically altered how hard it was to fly under these conditions. In the stress of combat, their own reactions were betraying them, causing far more accidents than normal. They could either back off and fly more conservatively and be easier targets, or continue to press the attack and take more losses. Either one was good with Pyotr.
Once again he aborted his attack on a dropship to defend their position. Soon that is all he would be doing, and then, well, then it would get interesting.
Col. Randolph Hodges cursed as he ordered his SPAD interceptors to the attack. He honestly hadn’t expected any casualties. He’d known that Alan Glenn was brought back here. He’d also been briefed that Kali and Tech-Witch were expected to show up. What he didn’t expect was that Glenn and Kali were one and the same. He should’ve made the connection when she identified herself as Capt. Vroom.
As a kid, Vroom was one of the fastest speedsters on the planet. Now, in the first moments of combat she’d taken out at least a dozen dropships. She was so damn fast their heavy weapons were useless. Since when was Vroom female and how the hell had that bitch gotten so powerful? Was the mu-tainted also a shape-changing perversion as well?
Immediately he got his troopers on the ground and moving, but some mutant scum dug-in atop Area 61 had one hell of a powerful TK talent and was shielding the mu-tainted filth from his weapons. That is when they weren’t just ripping his aircraft to pieces.
Even his recon RAH-66s that were assigned to take out runners were getting the shit kicked out of them as the muties worked as a team. He’d dismissed that brat with the weather control powers, but somehow she’d changed the altitude density from the 5k above sea level to more like 10k. All that training his pilots had put in were now working against them. They were making mistakes left and right. Mistakes that were costing him men and machines. Added to that, his communications were flaky as hell probably because of Vroom’s partner, Tech-witch, screwing things up. All of which meant he had a hell of a fight on his hands.
Oh, he still would succeed, but the butcher’s bill would be a lot higher then he ever dreamed. Glancing out of a view port, he couldn’t help yelling as he saw the SPADs arrow down through the twisting heavy clouds. “Get that damn Bitch!”
When Sapphira was given command of SRT-One she'd treated it as any other research project. She'd covered the experiences of leaders and soldiers over the ages and how technology had changed warfare over the ages. Part of that investigation included accounts of soldiers from the last century as they waited for death to come to them. At Gettysburg watching Pickett’s Charge come at them or Rorke’s Drift facing the pride of the Zulu nation, they stood, fought, and died, but they did not falter.
She knew what the attack plan would be. There would be little subtlety here. Bombard with missiles; deploy the armor; charge forward and destroy any who still lived.
Watching the woman who called herself Capt. Vroom, she was guessing about now Col Hodges was thinking he’d made a mistake. She knew that with Peter the Great and his people being here her former employers definitely had 'screwed the pooch', as Three would say.
Through the dust her sensors tagged the rapidly advancing Peace-Maker Power Armor suits. Carrying an assortment of Barrett 25mm Cobra assault cannons, and Lockheed 1cm energy guns as easily as an unsuited man would a rifle, they were as dangerous as any light armored vehicle and just as tough. Add in the enhanced strength, data-sharing network, plus the defensive systems and you had a real handful. A fast, agile, light tank that could kick in doors, climb stairs, and shrug off anything lighter than a RPG. They were tough.
“Steady people. Three stand by. Five? How is your ammo supply?” she asked.
The big German replied, “10 sure kills if I hit, and 20 or 30 smaller pieces.”
She’d had him start his own attacks, throwing the boulder size masses from the damaged elevator shaft the moment the dropships came into range. Best to have him throw everything he could now, because once the ground troops engage, he would be too busy to worry about ranged targets.
However, she needed him to hold on just a moment more. Sapphira had a plan. According to doctrine, the troops would advance with the dropships above and behind, covering them. However, Peter, Bob the brick and Five had knocked holes in that formation and the covering ships pushed forward further than they should. A maneuver that would prove costly to them.
“On my mark. Now!” Sapphira ordered.
All six of her suit’s scramblers launched, each at a different dropship. The ultra-tech missile’s sole purpose was to jam and confuse control systems. She usually used them on fleeing vehicles because of the electronic ignition controls most possessed. Her scramblers were quite effective, but these also had a special modification.
The first dropship struck was covered in a web of electrical like arcs before suddenly jettisoning all of their ordnance as its electrical systems went haywire. The stricken machine sunk toward the ground powerless. The others she’d hit followed the first, fighting to maintain control as they too fell powerless.
Three yelled, “Fire in the Hole!”
Using his powers, he swept a vibratory blast across the falling jettisoned rockets, missiles and bombs. Detonators and blasting caps were all sensitive explosives, needing only an impact or pressure to set them off. Three’s powers could set even the most inert materials to a boil by agitating their very molecules. Not all of them blew, but sympathetic detonations took care of those few that didn’t. Right on top of the advancing line of armor, a wall of death erupted.
“Hit the ends of their line and work your way to the middle!” she yelled, unleashing her own Disrupters. At full power, her usually non-lethal stun-only weapons were deadly, punching holes clean through both sides of the Peacemaker Armor. If there was one thing she'd plenty of, it was power. That girl did her a favor by increasing the humidity in the area. Her vapor accumulators soaked up the water, fueling her fusion plant. Sapphira had power to burn, and she meant to hit them as hard as she could.
Peter’s team saw what she was doing and added their fire to the kill zone. Rocks, bullets, and Gawd knows what else, flew at their common enemy. Some of the armor fell seemingly for no reason at all which just made them easier targets.
Shock and Awe, her ass. For centuries generals knew of the pure power of a well timed sledgehammer volley. Javelins, arrows, muskets, or cannon fire; it didn’t matter. US spin doctors wanted the world to believe that they’d invented the psychological impact that it could have. For a moment, she and her people slowed that iron wave washing towards them, but like the tide, it couldn’t be stopped.
No good thing lasted forever, and Peter couldn’t shield everyone. “May the good Lord make us truly grateful for what we are about to receive,” she quoted, sensing what was to come. “Cover!”
As the first bursts of 25mm and energy gunfire started ripping up the ground around them, she took cover. Like the first droplets from a storm, the scattered cannon fire turned into driving hail of fire and destruction. Shaken by the amount of pure fury that had been thrown against them, the line of steel faltered. However, while ULTIMATE HAB was full of intolerant bigots, they were still elite troops. Rallying, they hurtled forward into the breach, forgetting the cost Forlorn Hopes always charged in blood.
Area 61
Maggie waited for the high speed elevator’s doors to open. She could hear and feel the battle going on above ground before descending too far away. Trying to distract herself from her worries, she started preparing for her mission: stopping The Bomb.
Her talent assembled a handful of boring and crawling machines that would help her get through the layers of rock so she could touch the bomb with her powers. The terminally paranoid genius that’d emplaced it out did himself. It was not going to be easy, but if she failed, hundreds would die, including her.
They were truly between a rock and a hard place. Trapped with The Bomb about to go off underneath them, and a heavily armed mutant hating army wanting to slaughter them all, above. Once again the so-called ancient Chinese curse of ‘may you live in interesting times’ was snapping hungrily at their heels.
The doors slid open, and at a run only a high level supra could match, she raced down the empty hallway.
Twisting in mid-air, the stream of 30mm projectiles floated by Val. She swam for the passing armored aircraft, passing through the leisurely spinning blades of the dropship‘s turbo-prop. Running her hand along one of them she bent it like it was taffy.
In slow motion the entire machine began turning to the right, as the out of balance engine mount tore itself to pieces. She used that spin to throw her at another. Twenty, she counted, drifting to the next.
Never before had she been forced to exert her powers so. For years she’d done everything she could to avoid it. The martial arts and meditation were tools she'd used to prevent exactly just what was happening now. All because each time she used her powers they were all that much harder to stuff back into their genie bottle.
Smashing into the top of the dark blue craft, she ran across it, using her supra-speed to destabilize it as she ripped its tail fin away with a knife hand attack. Like her old friend Jeff used to do, she was riding the Luck. Letting it and her years of martial arts guide her in this aerial fight. The air really wasn’t her element but sometimes you had to make do with what was at hand.
She wasn’t even sure why she’d thrown herself in this direction. The reason appeared in front of her as it cleared the heavy turbulent cloud layer Amanda’s weather powers cooked up.
The aircraft was painted in ULTIMATE dark blue, and was circular shaped, with a two man teardrop canopy on top. A pair of stubby fins were on the rear while the bottom had the recessed bulges of weapon blisters. She could see the startled looks of the crew as she came right at them.
No matter how humans tried to disguise it, this was one of Ollie’s folks’ flying saucers. Most countries had some but didn’t have nearly enough to waste on military applications. That was something that ULTIMATE tried to make sure of. Besides for most nations, just having the ability to reach orbit or as far out as the moon was one hell of a moneymaker. ULTIMATE wanted to be the only one with these armed air to space fighters. The bureaucrats even tried to play down their obvious air superiority role by calling them Space-Pan-Atmosphere-Defenders.
Flipping in the air like a swimmer so she flew feet first, Val crossed her arms across her chest. She’d done this before, and hadn’t liked it much then either. If she hit it just right …
With a bone numbing jerk she struck their shielding. The defensive energy globe flashed blue as she passed through it and into the craft’s cockpit. An explosion of debris flew outward as it rolled wildly, its pilots ejecting, seeking some chance at survival.
Green bolts of energy flew all around her as she let the crash impact pinwheel her out of the way of the stricken crew’s wing mates' revenge. Balling herself up, she bounced off another, as a blue flash from its field sent both of them flying away in mad arcs. More green lightning lanced at her, and one glanced off her new force screen but another did not.
Pain clawed at her arm as the energy from the destructive beam burned through her uniform. Resisting the haze threatening to cover her vision, she used herself like a billiard ball, slamming into another of her darting attackers.
The same ability that made her friend Doug such an extraordinary shot as Sharpshooter, let her calculate the arc needed to use herself to slam one of the SPADs into one of its companions' fire. Dodging the beams bouncing off its shield, she dove for the ground as one found their way past the defending blue shimmer. The explosion behind her only temporarily distracted the wolf pack at her heels as they winged over in pursuit.
Josh concentrated again on the image of Capt. Vroom’s black uniformed figure suddenly landing next to one of those hulking robot-looking things.
Nine times out of ten his victim immediately turned and fired at the mirage that turned out only to be another robot soldier. Sometimes that one returned fire, taking out both of them, and sometimes not.
He sighed, picking another pair of walking dead men. His best trick of making a bunch of people blind and helpless didn’t work on these damn things. Okay, he knew that whatever they looked liked, there was really a person inside those metal things because otherwise his power wouldn’t work at all. Maybe they had some kind of protection from being in armor.
When he’d ‘looked’ through one of their eyes to find out what they were seeing, his vision wasn’t as clear as it was normally. However once Josh saw what their helmets displayed, he knew what illusion to force through to the pilot. Unfortunately he had to do it one at a time, and there were hundreds of them coming right at him and his friends.
Suddenly he was thrown to the ground!
Malik sat on his chest, but Josh could only stare at the smoldering hole above him in the concrete where his head had just been.
“Thanks,” Josh grunted as his friend pulled him to his feet.
Malik shrugged, keeping low, which was a luxury Josh couldn’t afford if he wanted to try and stop these ULTIMATE goons. He had to come up with something better.
Focusing on a pair this time, rather than just one, the two suddenly spun, shooting at two other robo-goons. One of those fired back before the cannon shells and laser beams killed the men inside.
Okay, three out of four was better than two. In the distance, Josh saw his teacher still in that insane aerobatic battle, with all those blue saucers spitting green beams all over the place trying to kill her.
A quick tap on his shoulder from Malik reminded him the two of them had more pressing problems of their own. Picking out yet another group advancing to kill them, Josh led more enemies to their death.
Ollie’s mind danced across his jury rigged control panel. Able to interface directly with The Rocket’s defensive, electronic counter measure systems, and communications, he fought ULTIMATE’s attempts to jam the defenders' tactical comms as well as disrupting their attackers’ communications, sensors, and targeting systems. It was an unseen battle fought at the speed of light, as each side tried to give their own side an advantage, while they did their best to deny their opponents the same.
Big Mac joined in the battle, and the AI was for the first time in over 25 years doing the job it’d been designed for. Between them they were as busy as that one legged man in that kicking contest, as Val would say.
No matter how they calculated the odds, they were fighting the no-win scenario from the wrong side. The Rocket was just one machine versus the dedicated might of purpose-built electronic warfare aircraft. The Gray pulled The Rocket into a climb, spitting decoys and flares behind them as another Home-on-jam missile sought them.
Ollie knew if he tried he had a good chance at escaping. Finally after untold years, his parent’s matrixes were in his possession. He was free. Both he and Big Mac weren’t even human so what was this fight to them? Everything.
From the tentative reaching out of a group of lonely youngsters to him, to the family-like bond they’d formed together, these humans accepted him as even his own people would not. He could, would not abandon them.
The agile human rebuilt Gray saucer twisted, avoiding yet another missile sent to kill them. As important as survival was to him, what passed as his own stomach roiled as he watched his dearest friend fight for her life against the SPADs. The Space-Pan-Atmosphere-Defender fighters, like The Rocket, were captured Gray spacecraft rebuilt and refitted for humans.
As powerful as Val was, she was no match for a dozen of them tearing through the air after her. Ollie remembered the shy boy speedster who was so clumsy and awkward, in conflict with a duality most humans lacked. The feminine neurological patterns were incompatible with her male physiology. Ollie did what he could and helped the others understand that Alan wasn’t being difficult but instead had a problem.
Then disaster struck. Sent out to stop the unstoppable, they’d fallen to Leviathan. Panicked, their masters exposed them again to that infernal device and unspeakable tragedy followed. He’d been tempted, more than ever before, to abandon his parents to help the child that’d been stripped of her family and thrown out of the only home she’d ever known. Worse, Ollie’s efforts to help Jeff Fortune also failed, as the young man, blaming himself for the death of his friends, took his own life.
Not realizing that he’d made his decision, Ollie pulled up into an Immelmann, zooming from the edges of this furious aerial furball, racing to its center.
“Ollie,” Big Mac’s calm modulated voice asked, using the machine interface they now both shared. “May I ask about our heading?”
Weaving in and out of the furious battle, Ollie replied, “I am going to aid my friend Big Mac.”
The old 80s AI asked, “You do realize that we are unarmed, and unless I miss my guess, we don’t have the advantage of a shield like her attackers?”
Bouncing from a near miss, the Gray confirmed, “That is correct. This is a reconnaissance craft. Originally it had stealth systems instead of a shield. That is why my parents and I were shot down so many years before because of bad luck, abnormal meteorological phenomenon and a human in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately those systems were too badly damaged to be repaired, even if the humans of the time recognized what they were, before completely destroying them in their ignorance.
“Additionally, when the engineers at Area 61 learned enough to begin to refitting this craft for their use as a transport for The Rocketeers, they decided it was in the best interests of public relations and political spin doctoring to equip it with only defensive systems.
“What is more, The Rocket was refitted using 1960’s and 70’s technology while ULTIMATE’s SPADs were rebuilt with 21st century materials.” Ollie grunted, pulling some G’s, side-slipping away from a burst of cannon fire. “On the other hand, this won’t be entirely one sided, because using the cyber-interface that is letting us converse, I am The Rocket, controlling it at the speed of thought. Plus I have as my REO, you, an intelligent supercomputer. Exciting is it not?” the Gray pilot said, with as much of a grin his alien face would let him.
The AI broke the radar lock of a pair of missiles coming at them. “I don’t know if exciting would be the word I would use Ollie. I was designed to control the entire nuclear arsenal of a superpower from deep inside a bunker in the middle of a mountain. Flying into the middle of a battle in a 40 year old jury-rigged unarmed flying saucer while duct taped to the deck, running in a server that is even more jury-rigged, from parts salvaged from office PCs, is not what I would call exciting. Terrifying, mind numbing or perhaps petrifying, but NOT exciting.”
A small pause passed between them. “Big Mac, I am truly sorry but I have no choice,” Ollie apologized.
The AI’s calm voice responded asking, “Ollie, it is not good to be the only one of your kind and alone is it?”
Darting into the heavy overcast clouds, he rolled The Rocket onto her back, slamming the throttles full forward. “No it is not.”
“Then let us go save our friend,” Big Mac said, as he wreaked havoc on ULTIMATE’s communications network.
Ollie barely nodded as they zoomed to the rescue.
Amanda called the tornado from the stormy clouds that now burst with energy. The problem was she could only guide it in just so close without endangering her own people.
Lizzie was up here trying to help but the older girl told her to go back down the stairs. Amanda was finding it hard enough just trying to function as the thunderous crash of bombs and explosions roared around them in a continuous crash. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for the little girl.
Her friend Malak took up the slack that guy Peter had left open. As more and more explosions struck his TK screen, he had to shrink the area he covered. Malak’s blue magnetic screen shimmered right next to his, stopping the overflow, but more and more of the bad guys were working their way around the sides.
Billie was fighting all who found that backdoor but was beginning to be overwhelmed. Stretched out as if in a bizarre game of Cat’s Cradle, she pushed, tripped, and tied up those who towered over her in their armor.
The good news was she could let the twister rampage on its own for a while. Helping Billie, Amanda called lightning from those same storms. In a flash of yet more explosions, ammunition and the guns themselves blew up!
Val twisted, trying to keep from spinning out of control. Fighting past the pain, she hit the overrides on her supersuit, shutting down her computer controlled flight surfaces. The system was badly damaged from that last shot. Rather than have it malfunctioning and throwing her off, they’d be of more use as inert armor.
She wasn’t sure how badly she was hurt. That last blast of green bolts hit her square in the back. The good news was her rapid healing would make everything good as new given time. The bad of course was time was the one thing she didn’t have. Using her arms and legs to guide her like a skydiver, she made herself as hard to hit as she could.
Maybe little Lizzie wasn’t quite as tough as Val thought, but then again she was still alive after being struck by not one, but several of the Gray energy weapons. Her helmet’s mirrors were blackened lumps, forcing her to flip onto her back to see what was happening.
Her out of control slew threw off the SPADs' aim but the well-trained pilots adjusted quickly. She’d managed to take out three of the damn things but a butcher’s dozen remained.
She wondered if this was finally going to be the end. At times in the past she’d wanted, courted that ending. Ironic that now that she’d so much to live for, that Death was never so close to her heels. After Jeff’s suicide, she’d vowed that was one out she’d never take, but she could be honest with herself that at times she’d recklessly thrown herself into harm’s way, daring fate.
Val didn’t know just when that’d changed. Was it Maggie or the kids that’d finally managed to touch her? Or maybe simply coming back to this pit of hell where it’d all begun finally let her lay her ghosts to rest? Perhaps it was holding her brother in her arms after all of these years, along with the hope he would live?
And what did fate do? It sent an entire frakking army of mutant hating fanatics to destroy all of her hopes and dreams. Her Luck’s music-like tones soared as a familiar silver crescent flashed out of the clouds, dropping down on top of one of the SPADs. It spat burning flares and decoys designed to confuse heat, radar, and visual seeking missiles backwards at the dark blue saucer. Defensive or not, it was enough to blind the pilots, causing them to tumble away to keep from colliding with another.
“Ollie.” Her heart hammered! The Rocket was unarmed and these killers in blue wouldn’t hesitate for a moment before pulling the trigger. As she watched, a pair of them peeled off, going after the red racing striped saucer.
Val flipped around, with her feet pointed ground-first like a cliff diver. A few bolts flew at her again, but now there was only ten of them, she thought sourly. Perhaps today would be her day to die, but with her last breath she would fight to keep those she loved alive.
So intent her concentration, she never noticed the changing music of her Luck as her decision altered the path of destiny.
Courtney Hathaway knew she’d failed this challenge. Gus Glenn was simply too torn apart inside for her to save. She couldn’t keep ahead of the continuing damage from that shrapnel. Every breath he took, every beat of his heart helped push the razor sharp fangs deeper into his flesh.
She wasn’t even sure why he still lived. Something in him just wouldn’t let him die. For the first time in a very long time she wanted to weep. She had fully opened herself to him, using every bit of resources she had to try and save him. Courtney found a strange resonance that deepened her rapport with him more intensely than any she‘d ever touched in the past.
Here was a man who really did exhibit the qualities of a good man. He wasn’t perfect, but he knew that and did his best to overcome his limitations. While her life was built around users and the used, his was of selflessly giving, and he never once questioned the cost.
Impossible, but there he was dying in front of her, this young man born 15 years before her, but who was also 15 years younger, a living contradiction in every sense of the word.
“It’s alright. I know I’m dying,” he whispered.
Startled, she was speechless. Courtney knew she shouldn’t be surprised but there was something about this older Glenn brother. He shouldn’t even be alive so why shouldn’t he also be conscious? “That puts you one up on me since I don’t know why you are still alive at all much less talking.”
A smile touched his pale lips. “It’s my energy reserves. I’m a living energy field, but when it’s gone so will I.”
Hope touched her. “Is there some way of recharging it? If we can keep you going until I can get all that shrapnel removed, we might be able to buy you time to heal.”
The slightest shake of his head told her no. “It’s not that easy. The only way for certain would be the Z-Ray, but I’m not going to let anyone put me back under that thing.”
Weakly he paused. “Have they initiated Wildfire?”
She nodded. “Yes they have. We’re trapped, with Mutant haters up top, but the Bomb below.”
He closed his eyes, pausing again. “There’s a chance I can help. If I’m close enough to the explosion I might be able to recharge myself and stop the blast. In tests Doc gave me, I could control a nuclear reactor by acting like a living dampening rod.”
Courtney gave him an intense searching look. She knew he wasn’t telling her the entire truth. “So you are saying you could heal yourself and stop the Bomb?”
His green eyes looked into hers. “Nothing is certain, but if you want to help me, it’s better than no chance at all.”
She made her decision. Truth or not, he’d no chance for survival here. Reaching down, she held his hand and smiled. “Stay with us. This isn’t over yet.”
Looking around, she saw a shaken James Farris had returned. Not her first choice for a helper but there was no one else.
“Mr. Farris I need your help. We’re taking him down,” she ordered.
His eyes grew wide, his fear written all over his face. “But what about the self-destruct?”
Her face as hard as stone and her voice flat, she said, “After what has happened here tonight, do you know of anyone else besides Capt. Blazzar who can stop a nuclear device from exploding?”
A glimmer of hope filled his eyes. Courtney had no idea of the odds but she was sure that hope was ill founded. Nonetheless she kept that thought to herself.
Together they pushed the wounded man into the next elevator going back down into the pit.
Major Jason Roberts yelled, “Push’em!”
Tonight was one of those rare complete screw ups by the numbers. HQ completely underestimated the expected resistance, and like always, the grunts on the ground were taking it in the shorts.
Ducking another crashing twisting wreck that used to be a state of the art dropship, he knew the flyboys weren’t having any too easy of a time either. Leading by example, he used his Barrett Cobra assault cannon at full rock and roll, burning through his ammo drum at an alarming rate. Better that than dead, he cursed. They had to keep the damn muties’ heads down.
All about him laid the blasted remains of Peacemaker power suits and shattered burning aircraft. Hurtling a ruined suit with a still glowing hole big enough to stick his whole arm through, he watched his HUD count down the range. None of the dropships had gotten close enough to drop the munitions the Op-plan called for. The muties were too damn effective at stopping the missiles with those infernal screening powers of theirs.
Their briefings had told of only one young gene tainted kid with the ability, but HQ got that wrong too. Someone over there was throwing up screens that were virtually impenetrable, keeping the mutants safe from his people’s weapons.
They’d completely lost contact with HQ. The only communications that were up was the Peacemaker suit’s laser comms. Those were just about impossible to jam. A man next to him screamed as his visor was suddenly spattered with some nasty green stuff coming from the inside. The stricken man fell crashing to the ground, rolling in agony.
A blinking green light told the major that finally they were in range. “Major Roberts to all units! Enable your grenades! Fire!” he ordered.
All down the line, the surviving suits' built-in launchers chugged away, tossing a stream of munitions at the pocked marked remains of the upper level of Area 61.
The moment the fecal matter hit the rotary oscillator, Marine Staff Sergeant Green knew deep in his guts it was going to get bad, real bad. He and Hennessy made good time to where the wounded were being picked up and helped as they could. The two of them rode back in with the Air Dale Security Police and tried mostly to stay out of the way.
That’s where he ran across the other sniper team. The two SEALs were in bad shape, but what caught his eye was whoever carried them in also brought in all their gear, including the XM-111 BFG. He’d immediately picked it up. Like all good marines, he’d memorized his scope settings and immediately dialed them into the 35 lb weapon. Not as good as a true zero, but for field expedient conditions it would have to do.
When that kid flew in, warning about invaders, he’d moved to where he had a good spot to see what was happening. Then things got interesting when those ULTIMATE weenies were warned off, and they’d opened fire.
Battle-wise, he’d found a good position to make his stand and carefully began serving his targets one at a time. They’d only limited ammo and he was none too sure of just how reliable those fancy munitions were. Still, he had to make do with what he had.
Somehow this big blond that had legs clean up to here ended up near him, and after taking a glance at his weapon, casually tossed him a 10 lb box of shells. It took him only a second to determine they were compatible and together the two of them were laying down some pretty serious covering fire.
That was a good thing as that powered armor closed enough to shoot back. In all his time in the Corp, he'd never seen anything like it. A Gawd-awful mix of the worst footage he’d ever seen of WWI, WWII, Korea, Nam, and Desert Storm all rolled up into one were the only thing that came close.
When that Broad in the gold armor knocked down that line of dropships and all of their ordnance onboard dropped, detonating on top the poor sods advancing underneath, he’d almost felt sorry for them. Despite that hell of fire and steel, they’d kept on coming. He was under no illusions what would happen if they were overrun.
This attack was an act of war and there was no way they could afford to let a single voice live to speak the truth. Like a mad man, he was firing so quickly the heavy barrel of his rifle glowed. Hennessy picked up a launcher from a fallen Air Dale’s hands and sent a Stinger missile soaring up at a helo.
Barely audible over the thunderous din of battle, a chorus of bangs made him pause. The small black dots arcing towards him from the advancing enemy made his mouth go dry. “Incoming!” he yelled, diving into the mass of broken concrete, chipped away by enemy fire.
The dull whoomps, instead of explosions, made his stomach twist up even more. That could only mean a gas attack, the Bastards! Reaching for his gas mask from long practice, he slipped it on and had it sealed in seconds. It only made sense because their armor already gave them protection, but that didn’t change the fact that it was a despicable weapon.
Looking up, he saw large blooming bubbles and pockets of white looking foam. “What the hell?” he wondered.
Malik watched as an Air Force sergeant fired a missile from a tube at a helicopter. Off to his right a pair of soldiers were doing the same. He’d ducked, following their cues as someone had yelled, “Incoming!”
Now this foaming crap was expanding like crazy all around them. The guys in that armor shooting at them moved right through it with no problems, but he saw that woman in black with the gun move back to avoid getting any of it on her.
She yelled out, “Restraining foam. Don’t get any of it on you. It’s like superglue flypaper and is very slick. Doesn’t matter how strong you are. It’ll trap you.”
Then out of nowhere there was one of those suits right in front of him! A quick step put him too close for it to fire that gun at him but an armored fist came down, striking him!
Malak blinked his eyes from the impact. That was the best they could do? With a wrench, he tore the rifle-like cannon from its grasp, snapping an ammo feed belt, sending large thumb sized bullets flying all over the place with a chatter.
Now that he had it, what the hell did he do with it? He didn’t know crap about guns. All that ghetto stuff about blacks and guns had nothing to do with him. He was born a rich kid, with a silver spoon in his mouth, and didn’t know anything about using one.
Looking at the cannon in his hands, however, a baseball bat? Now that was different! With a mighty swing that would have made the immortal Casey or the Babe proud, he rang the metal man’s bell, but good. In nothing flat there was one down and his bat was broken and useless.
Josh’s voice sounded in his radio. “Stay close.”
Turning, Malak saw two of the metal men suddenly turned on each other, blasting away with their rifle things. In a cloud of gun smoke they both fell, shot to pieces. He felt sick, knowing that Josh had killed those two. Looking down at the armored man he had put down, he realized that this one too, might be dead. Dead by his hand.
A large hand grasped his shoulder, and he spun to defend himself. Malak found himself looking at one of those people in the black military uniforms helping them.
What caught his attention wasn’t the man’s size but his eyes. Such an incredible shade of green. Not the emerald green of normal human eyes, they were the deep green of the trees of the forest and of growing things.
The hand’s owner rumbled in a deep voice. “It is not an easy thing to take a life. In the cycle of life you have the choice of taking a life or letting it take yours. They have given us no choice but to defend ourselves. All life is to be valued, but it is these fools who have disrespected it. Do what you need to do, to be true to yourself and your companions.”
That foam had flowed over those guys in SRT One, trapping them all but that woman in the gold armor. Stepping forward, the man waved his hand and the foam turned green and began collapsing in upon itself. In seconds they were free.
Another metal man charged at him, and Malik as he’d been trained, grabbed and flipped him over his hip. The ground shook as the heavy suit crashed. The teen was amazed, because although all of them had trained in the sims, none of that had been like this. He’d handled that armored giant as easily as with Mr. Glenn back in the dojo. As a matter of fact easier, because sensei was one cagey teacher. Or girl or whatever.
All the sex changing going on still had his head swimming. Well as long as it didn’t happen to him, Malik thought he could deal.
The helmet faceplate of the man he’d just thrown down splashed green from the inside, causing his imagination to almost make him retch.
The giant with the green eyes scolded, “Keep your attention on the fight. Even giants fall to the smallest of nature‘s creations, viruses and bacteria,” he said, pointing to the goo running down inside the helmet.
General Robert Laramie sat down heavily at his desk. With his key he opened the lockbox containing his personal weapon, a Para-Ordnance Nite-Tac .45 cal. Just how had everything come to ruin so quickly? All was going according to plan and then this. His command was soon to be engulfed in nuclear fire.
Twisting his chair around to look out of the large one-way glass window facing the labs and classrooms of Project Meridian, he held the Canadian update of the classic Colt .45 in his lap. He’d no illusions about what his fate would be over this debacle. At best being forced to resign in disgrace or worse a court martial and prison.
No, he would rather die with his boots on. Robert Laramie was a patriot and all he’d done was for his country. He’d done his best to walk the talk. Now the only question was, would he wait for the fire or take his own way out.
The click-clack of the slide ramming a round into the firing chamber was thunderously loud in the silent office. Then his mouth fell open. “What the hell?”
Passing through the labs were Dr. Hathaway and a technician, pushing a gurney.
Despite just the glance, he knew the face of the man upon it. Gus Glenn. So Project Thunderbolt had failed and the monster wasn’t dead. But why were they down here and not evacuating, unless they had some plan for Glenn to cheat death. He knew he’d been right not to trust that damn mind twister Hathaway.
He stood, straightening his uniform. Maybe his duty to his country wasn’t over yet. There was still a monster for him to slay. Purposefully he walked out of his office, weapon in hand.
Another thunderous boom followed by a wave of hot gas laden air made Malak’s protective screen flicker as she flinched. Although stopping all that stuff coming at her friends wasn’t hard, holding her screen up for so long was. Never before had she kept it on for this long, much less under these conditions.
That guy Peter just blew her away with how big an area he covered with his power as well as his control. He used only just enough juice to stop all the missiles and bullets from doing harm. That let him last a lot longer than she who had to use her full strength against everything. Although one difference was his couldn’t stop those laser things while hers could.
There were just so many of those damn armored suit things! SRT One might be taking the blunt of it, with Peter and his guys helping, but now ULTIMATE was coming around the ends!
Malak pushed her screen right next to Peter’s. Billie was doing some unreal Twister-Fu moves on all who came at them. Her girlfriend, Amanda even had a tornado running out there as well as lightning bolts that made those things blow up like popcorn. Josh was making them shoot each other while her brother was throwing down hand to hand with them and winning.
And still it wasn’t enough.
Dirty, nasty, grimy, and fighting despair, she remembered her mother’s words. “Look them in the eye, work twice as hard, and be four times better.”
Taking a deep breath, she ‘pushed’ her screen so it covered even more area, while simultaneously reaching out a hand to use her power to draw one of the fallen suits to her. Then she pulled another, stacking it on top, and so on. Maybe she couldn’t screen everyone but if she could build a 'sandbag' wall made of these things, it would help.
As she was grabbing another, it moved, trying to aim its gun at her! Her eyes hardened and Malak ‘swirled’ her magnetism as she pulled. Crackling electricity filled the already hot stinking air with more ozone as it convulsed and went limp. Carefully she told herself, it and not him girlfriend.
Billie hopped over her wall as her brother pulled Josh behind it as well. The wind whipped the fused glassy sand like a chainsaw, howling down upon the pursuing armor as Amanda did her weather control thing.
Knowing she was at her limits Malak ‘swirled’ her power at an onrushing attacker. Rapidly spinning magnets can generate electricity. Despite how much she hated that testing lab, she’d found that damn few machines could ’spin’ a magnetic field as quickly as her power let her.
These armor things might conduct electricity harmlessly around its wearer, but if you hit anything with enough current you could short it. Malak had no idea of how much her ’swirling’ generated but it was a lot.
Cringing she added it to her wall. “It, not him, it, not him,” she repeated to herself as she hit yet another coming to kill her.
A drop of sweat splashed onto the concrete where she worked. Maggie’s miniature borers and tunneling machines were making slow headway. The entire thing was a monstrous puzzle of materials, false trails and dead ends.
Her talent told her The Bomb was here but the device’s defenses were built to include shielding from Psi abilities like hers. She’d tried following one of the wiring trunks to the thing but that’d only been another false trail.
A sound behind her made her draw her baton, but instead of an enemy it was even worse. That Doctor with Val’s brother on a gurney.
“What are you doing here?” Maggie demanded.
As Hathaway opened her mouth to respond, another voice cut her off.
“Don’t blame her, it was me,” Gus Glenn said hoarsely.
“I know about the Wildfire bomb. It has every protection Doc could give it just to make sure no one could escape this prison.” He stopped, out of breath.
“The only thing keeping me alive is my energy field now. I might be able to stop the bomb from going nuclear and re-energize myself. Now all of you, go. Even if I succeed, it’s going to get a little ‘hot’ in here,” he finished weakly.
Maggie closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I can’t. If you die, Val, your sister, will never forgive herself.”
“Val? Her name is Val,” he said with a wondering smile.
“Please tell Val, that her brother loves her. Now go. I have no idea of how bad the radiation might be,” he said with clenched teeth, getting weaker.
Leaving her gear right where it was, she gave the doctor a look and both of them rushed out with their doubt mirrored in each other’s faces.
Sapphira’s armor shrugged off another burst of 25mm penetrators. Her return fire blew every fuse in her attacker's armor as the crippled armor fell forward. The stream of disrupter pulses whined as they swept across the endless charging tide of steel. She’d no choice but to try and disable as many of them as she could to thin them out. Two and Four were down and Three had phased them down into the makeshift hospital below them. Five had an armored foe by the leg, using it as a club against the others who swarmed him.
Peter the Great now stood at her side. His overweight appearing strongman, Bob, had been hit with that restraining foam and was badly injured by the Peacemakers' and missiles as he stood helpless until that bacteria ate it away. His blond weapons specialist lost her own weapon and was now using a captured Barrett. The big man with the plant powers who’d freed them from the foam was wounded as well.
One of the students, a young man, lifted the huge mutant like a child, carrying him to safety. When the youngster returned he’d shored up their failing defensive line. The weather controller had whisked the deadly vapors and gas concealed in the foam away on her winds as well as calling down the lightning. Another with magnetic powers was throwing lightning of her own even as she built ramparts by magnetizing the dead suits, sticking them together like Legos. The child with the stretching power repeatedly dragged the wounded and hurt out of harm’s way with one arm while battling the armored suits with the other.
There were other more heart rending acts of bravery that she couldn’t see, but she knew was being faithfully recorded by her armor. Despite all their efforts she knew it wasn’t going to be enough. The UHAB did have elite troops but even more importantly they believed right down to their immortal souls that their cause was just and every mutant was an emissary from Satan himself.
Sapphira crushed a helmet with one fist as she had to let the coils in her gauntlets cool. History told her of the fate of the defenders at Thermopylae, the Alamo and other hopeless last stands. She expected no different here. However, her and Bob’s efforts to make certain that the word and the record of what happened here tonight wouldn’t be buried, forgotten or in vain.
Peter’s telekinetic screen glowed from the nearly continuous wave of blasts hitting it. Napalm, bunker buster warheads, cannon fire, he stopped them all. If not for him they would’ve long ago fallen. But he couldn’t stop the armored fanatics closing in on him. Her disrupters' HUD blinked green. Stepping forward she hosed down the advancing killers with emerald pulses of energy as projectiles sleeted against her armor, forcing her to brace against the impacts to keep her beams on target.
She whispered to herself, “Stranger, Go tell the Spartans.”
Hennessy fell, nearly cut in two by an energy beam. Marine SSG. Henry Green knew the end was nigh. The defenders had been pushed back to the shafts leading downward. His blond foxhole companion had been hit but was still fighting with just one arm.
Unlike her, he couldn’t fire his rifle one handed. Not that it mattered at this range. He grunted, firing from the hip into the advancing mass as he backed away. He was bleeding from a handful of minor cuts and near misses but he knew his luck wouldn’t last forever. Scrambling backwards, he almost tripped over something behind him.
“Awww jeez,” he swore at the frightened huddled kid behind him.
Her blue uniform helped him remember that she was the same kid that'd flown downstairs warning of this impending attack. She must have sneaked back upstairs to see what was happening and in the chaotic hell up here had gotten lost and forgotten.
Kneeling in the scant cover of what used to be a concrete wall, he looked up wondering, why him Lord, why him. Henry Green was a Marine right down to his boot laces, by Gawd, and he considered himself a good man. But, and that was a big but, he’d shot an innocent man today. Not just any man but one that he in his childhood had looked up to, a hero. He’d done the best he could not to rake himself over the coals about it, but it was still there. Orders or not, it was still he, SSG Henry Green US Marine Corps, who’d pulled the trigger.
Maybe that was why he’d stayed out here so long before falling back. He was a sniper for Gawd's sake. Above them the clouds boiled as lightning flashed down and the winds blew angrily. There weren’t nearly as many enemies in there as there had been. Off to the east he could still see the beginning of sunrise, even through the clouds.
He reached out for the kid and she scrambled into his arms with a sob. And for just for a moment he escaped this lost fight, holding her against his filthy, smelly uniform. The Marine couldn’t blame her for her fear. Hell, he was frightened too, but like that poem that he’d heard ages ago, “He had promises to keep and miles to go before he could sleep.”
The way to the stairs where the rest of the rear guard had gathered for their last stand was a no man’s land of deadly beams and shells. They were cut off, but staying here was certain death. It never occurred to him that maybe she was better able to survive what was to come then he. He simply saw a frightened child that needed him.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “I know you’re scared, but I’ve seen how brave you can be. Now you need to be braver than any kid has ever been before. We can’t stay here, but getting somewhere safe is going to be tricky. I’m going to carry you and run as fast as I can. If I trip and fall, you have to get up and run to your friends on your own. Don’t look back, but run as fast as you can. Can you do that?”
Her green eyes looked up at him, still brimming over with tears, but she nodded.
Taking a deep breath, he discarded his rifle. Gathering her up, he stood, sheltered by the wall that rocked and swayed with all the fire hitting it, blowing away chunks.
Looking for their best chance, he swept the area intently for the safest way. Finally, he whispered, “Are you ready, Sweetheart?”
At her nod, he sprinted forward.
The Marine used every bit of knowledge and skill he had to weave and throw off the aim of the men seeking to kill them. Heart pounding in his chest; almost there! Then in almost slow motion he began to fall. He felt the wetness running down his leg but no pain.
With all of his strength he threw her forward as he fell. “Fly baby fly!”
He couldn’t keep the silly smile from his lips as she soared upwards, but then he hit the ground. Curious, he looked at the blood, but he still didn’t feel any pain. Perhaps that was the best he could hope, but then it came to him that wasn’t it. “The best was that little girl just might have a chance to live,” he thought, as his eyes closed for the last time.
Lizzie knew she should’ve stayed downstairs where she’d been told, but she wanted to help. Just like she had fighting the monsters in the video games, and that big scary glowing thing.
But it was so different with all the fire and explosions. It was simply too much for her, too much for anyone. Everyone was so busy they didn’t have time for her. She’d gotten scared and tried to hide. Then that man had almost fell over her. He was really dirty and he smelled, but held her and tried to help.
Now she was flying away from all that bad stuff. She knew she wasn’t supposed to look back but she did. He just laid there, unmoving. Lizzie knew somehow he wasn’t going to get back up again. More tears racked her, she was just a little girl! This wasn’t supposed to happen to her.
But she wasn’t just a little girl. Lizzie had changed and gotten stronger. She could fly now, and she could play rough. Even with a really big kid like Malik and not get hurt.
Down there she could see those scary big metal robot thingies fighting her friends, Amanda, Malak, Billie and the boys. She knew in her heart that like the smelly man who’d helped, they wouldn’t be getting back up if they fell.
A loud roar made her look up. One of those helicopter things was shooting at her! Startled, she froze as it shot at her. She could see the men inside looking at her, but all the bullet things just bounced off, whizzing away.
In their eyes she saw that same mean look like Jeffrey had, he who’d terrorized her so long ago in school, but in theirs it was even worse. They wanted to hurt her and even liked it. In her mind, things connected. Looking down at that gun still shooting at her, she smiled. They couldn’t hurt her, but she could hurt them. But that caused her to frown, remembering that talk she had with Mr. Glenn who was now Miss Val.
She didn’t want to be a bully but she had to stop them from hurting anyone ever again. Earlier she’d seen Miss Val fly right through a flying saucer thing. She could do that!
Meanwhile the helicopter had opened a door and let one of those big fireworks things fly at her. It’d made a bigger boom and the noise was scary, but other than knock her back in the air a little, it didn’t hurt.
Her six year old face got hard. No more bullies!
Like a 40 lb missile, she smashed through the RAH-66, tearing it in two.
As it fell, Lizzie could see more bullies. She flashed towards them, the sun rising behind her.
To be Continued.
Chapter 58
Colonel Randolph Hodges felt his guts twist, feeling ill. It wasn’t suppose to be like this! He had ships down all over the place, and the carnage on the ground among his troopers was even worse. This far exceeded his worst-case scenario, and to make matters perfect, he’d totally lost command and control.
Comms were completely out because, impossibly, the ultra secured system was virused. All he had command of now was his own aircraft and the three ship special munitions flight with him.
His vantage point from above the battle told him his boys would succeed but the price would be high. The pride of ULTIMATE’s armed forces would be a spent unit afterwards. The biggest problem would be if their cover story would hold up in the face of such casualties.
Hell, he would be lucky to command a desk after this was over! On the other hand, Area 61’s boil would finally be lanced. Its abominable research into creating and empowering these gene-warped freaks ended forever. After it was gone, the world would be a safer place for the human race. Even his career, as much as it pained him, wasn’t too great a price to pay.
Signaling the special munitions flight, he directed his pilots to get into the fight. One of the advantages of his boys being in power armor was they had full NBC, nuclear, bio-hazard and chemical, weapons protection. Normally Area 61 would be protected from such weapons too, but the smart bomb bunker busters these three ships carried would take care of that. They could crack even those heavily shielded elevator shafts, letting the deadly cocktail of chemicals and bio-weapons in to do their business. Next, the radiological bombs would make this whole place too hot for any living creature for the next several hundred years.
As a finishing touch, if the freak was still alive, there was a special present just for Number Five of SRT-One. The special armor piercing munitions would crack even that mutant’s hide, letting the freak’s radioactive blood add to the contamination. It was fitting that the mu-tainted served humankind’s future with its death.
“Let’s do it!” the Colonel ordered, his troops going into the valley of death.
Courtney hugged herself, knowing the truth in her heart but so afraid of admitting it. She, Techie and James had reached the elevator that even now was ascending. However her thoughts were of the man they’d left down there all alone. She might be a blind and selfish bitch, but never a coward. Full of second thoughts, her telepathy reached for her patient.
“Why hello there,” he answered her. “Are you three safe yet?”
Still denying that she knew the answer, she asked, “Why?”
“Why am I asking or why I misled you?” He asked for clarification.
Her silence told him which it was.
Capt. Blazzar replied, “All my life I’ve tried to do the right thing; for my brother; for my friends; and even for the world. What happened? I failed them all!”
“I turned into some kind of monster and killed the very ones I loved the most. All I remember are only flashes, but those along with no one wanting to tell me what happened, makes me certain it’s me who’s responsible.
“Val told me that it was Doc and La Dirty Feet that’s guilty, but it was still me who did the deed,” the teen sent to her full of anguish.
Courtney devoted her life to understanding how the human body and mind worked. Her doctorates in genetics and psychology, among others, were proof of her drive, but it wasn’t because of any desire to heal. She’d helped and aided many with her talents and knowledge but that was secondary to her control freak mania to manipulate those about her.
She, the master manipulator, met her match in Alan Glenn. Somehow he, with a deft touch any surgeon would envy, made her take a good hard look at herself. Over the past few weeks she found herself questioning everything that she once sought to achieve. Looking into that mirror, and seeing what was reflected therein, made her turn her face away.
Here, now, touching this young man who was in such pain, not only from his terminal injuries, but of his heart and soul, she saw just how far she’d fallen. Reaching out with her abilities again she looked not to heal his body, but his spirit.
Most importantly of all, she did it out of no other reason than compassion. That was something that only a few short weeks before would’ve been beyond her.
Without words, but a communication at a deeper level than she’d ever dared before, she showed him what his inner-most self looked like and that it was nothing to ashamed of. Next came what she knew of General Lafitte and what she’d scanned of Doctor McClellan. Of their willingness to sacrifice others for their own causes whether it be because of misguided nationalism or the altar of science. Not pulling any punches she gave him all she knew of Project Meridian. The fate of his teammates and what had happened since.
He took all that she gave him without incrimination or finger pointing. Then he asked about his sibling, Alan, who was now known as Val.
Courtney wished she knew more, but she hadn’t even known Val’s name until Techie told them. She showed him of her first meeting with Alan Glenn on a hot summer day in Charlotte. Of how he took a group of kids taken from their parents and helped, protected and nurtured them. His courage in facing down General Laramie with his ready wit and humor.
She showed Gus her own discovery of Alan’s hidden femininity when she object-read his battered racing jacket. In truth she’d never seen Val’s face but had only the impressions that Alan made upon her. Ones that had made her question her motivations and her life.
He then answered her question of why. He hadn’t lied but he did mislead her. His mutant power of energy manipulation was the only thing keeping him alive. However, Gus’s energy reserves were seriously depleted by his recent ordeals. The energy field could be recharged, but like a battery, a trickle of energy worked best. Gus could moderate nuclear reactions in a controlled setting but that was orders of magnitude different from trying to stop the out of control chain reaction that was a nuclear explosion.
It was remotely possible that he might’ve lasted long enough for her to remove all that shrapnel and begin healing, but the Bomb changed all of that. He was the only one that might be able to save all of those people topside, but he honestly doubted that it would change him back into Kiloton. Then, his own energy field was literally so overcharged that it’d gone into a kind of critical mass of its own causing him to transform. This time the heat and radiation would finish killing him long before that happened again.
Besides he was a hero and this was what heroes did.
Even timeless moments must end and Courtney opened her eyes to see Techie watching her speculatively. James was lost in his own thoughts worrying about his own survival.
Courtney found a tear rolling down her cheek and then another followed. Most women dreamed of finding their soul mate. The one man that more than any other fulfilled and complemented them, that knight in shining armor. Being a telepath she’d always scoffed at such silly notions. She knew what men were really like.
Gus Glenn wasn’t her soul mate or even the perfect match, but he was closer than any other she’d ever met. And he was going to die. There was nothing she could do that would change that. She felt such an irrational jealousy of that teenage girl, Kat. She’d died so many years before, but had called Gus hers and loved him.
Once she started, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing; for herself and her wasted life. For Gus Glenn who could’ve been able to help her redeem herself and the life they might’ve had together.
Maggie wrapped her arms around the crying woman, trying to comfort her. She suspected something like this when she’d seen how intently Dr. Hathaway tried to save Val’s brother. The look in the woman doctor’s eyes when he’d urged them to flee confirmed that suspicion.
Smiling sadly, she knew all too well how quickly one of the Glenn boys could steal your heart. Even when one of them was really a girl. That’d so confused her when she’d first met Alan. Maggie had always known she was bisexual, leaning more towards other women rather than men. With this man, it was different with lust, love, and everything else all rolled into one. From their first meeting, what she felt defied everything she knew about herself. When Alan revealed Val to her, things began to make sense.
The more they found out about each other the more they found things they had in common. From the beginning, Maggie found Alan Glenn a complex person. Like an onion, the deeper you went, the more layers you found. For nearly twenty years she’d peeled away Val’s layers, and although frustrating at times, she never regretted one moment.
Holding the sobbing scientist, she’d never been more thankful she’d taken that chance. Her life might have many regrets yet in store for her, but not daring to open her heart to love wouldn’t be one of them.
Maggie’s heart ached for her own love, and the pain she knew was coming. Val had just found her brother and now he was going to die. Part of her wondered if things could get any worse, but was afraid to tempt fate any further. So much had happened in this one night, who knows what other bad news waited around the corner. They were trapped on top of a Bomb by the one group of people that would cheerfully kill them all without a second thought, out numbered hundreds to one and cut off from the outside world without any chance of calling for help. It did not look good.
The only positive thing she could see about this mess, is that in the long run, this would help their cause. Twenty years ago the writing was on the wall for anyone who cared to look. Sentiment even then was starting to rise against mutants. Now there were laws restricting and limiting their basic civil rights.
ULTIMATE turned from an international agency designed to keep mutants from being used by the world’s nations as weapons, to become Gestapo-like Sturmtruppen, enforcing those laws pushing mutants into 2nd class citizenship for the crime of being born different.
It was ironic that the very political forces that caused ULTIMATE to come into existence were the very ones that might save mutants now. Area 61 sure as hell wasn’t the only place on earth where research on mutants was still being conducted. The power Supra-humans represented was simply too great for any nation to ignore. It came down to National Security interests versus the fanatical human purists and supremacists.
How those fanatics must have crowed at what they thought was a golden opportunity to strike at those interests. Still it’d taken big brass ones to attack a not so secret US military base. The USA was still a superpower and wielded immense political influence.
For this to succeed, not one word of what really happened could get out. They had to make absolutely sure no one would be able to poke around here looking for clues to punch holes in their story. The arrogance was astounding but typical.
Maggie thought she might be able to make certain that the word got out no matter if she survived or not. No doubt ULTIMATE’s uber-fuhrers had a cover story prepared just in case things fell apart, but every little bit helped. Just curbing the mutant haters’ power for a few years would help, because every year there were more and more mutants being born.
Not that long ago, there weren’t even enough to count as a minority. They were just oddities like in some sideshow. That’d changed, and was still changing as mutants became more common. If you thought the minority demonstrations during the sixties were something, baby you ain’t seen nothing yet, Maggie promised herself.
“But first things first,” she thought as the elevator’s doors opened.
Gus Glenn laid his head back, concentrating on keeping calm. His breathing really didn’t matter at this point because he knew only his energy field was keeping him alive. If he wanted to last long enough to try and stop that Bomb, he needed to keep expenditures to a minimum.
The waiting was always the hard part. His studies here at Area 61, back when he was being groomed as the perfect little soldier, had gone over many accounts from conflicts spanning thousands of years. They all said the same thing. Waiting was the pits. His own experience as a teenage supra-hero taught him that much was a universal truth.
Pushing his thoughts away from that, he recalled his telepathic conversation with Dr. Hathaway. He too felt the attraction between them, but his heart still belonged to Kat. The perky minx who could get him to smile no matter how bad things got. Who was dead, he mourned. Dead because of him, along with everyone he had held dear, except for his brother who was now his sister.
Courtney Hathaway had helped him with his grief and guilt. He and his friends were ruthlessly used by their country. In spite of knowing that, it still hurt, and maybe him trying to be the hero one more time was his way of making things right.
However he couldn’t help thinking how Doug and Jeff would’ve reacted seeing his little brother Alan now. The dirt smudged face and battle scarred uniform she’d worn couldn’t disguise the fact his sister was all grown up as well as beautiful. Yeah, the guy’s mouths would’ve hit the ground. Not to mention Kat and Joyce would’ve gone nuts over their newest recruit to girlhood.
He knew he wasn’t suppose to know, but the girls had kidnapped his little brother from time to time for makeovers and fashion shows. He and the boys studiously ignored Alan’s absence as they got on with serious stuff like sports and the trouble teenage boys always got into.
Smiling at the memories, he felt someone come into the room.
The man had the scent of cigar smoke on his Air Force uniform, but even though haggard and older, Gus recognized him at once. “Hey, it’s Lt. Laramie,” he rasped.
The much older man growled back, “It’s General, Cadet Glenn.”
Gus had to smile again despite the pain. He could still pull this man’s chain, General or not. “Still sore I outranked you since I was Captain Blazzar, Lieutenant?”
A vein pulsed in the old man’s face. “You did not! It was a courtesy rank. You were a Cadet after you signed the papers enrolling in the Air Force.”
Still smiling Gus replied, “Only after you lied to me saying I was going to be kicked out of here as well as separated from my brother and friends if I didn’t.”
Pulling himself up straight, Laramie brought up the pistol he had in his fist. “I did what I had to do, to fulfill my duty. Just like I am now.”
His eyes on the gun, Gus rasped out, “You might want to hold off on that. I might be able to fizzle the Bomb down here.”
Lying-to-me-Laramie cocked the hammer of the pistol back, “Why? So you can turn back into that monster? I don’t think so!”
Gus knew he didn’t have the energy to spare to defend himself. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. No way I’ll be able absorb enough energy fast enough to reach that point before it kills me. Last time it only happened because my energy field was somehow overcharged from that last Zap by Doc, and went into critical mass myself.”
Holding the pistol steady Laramie asked, “Why would you do that, and why should I believe you?”
If it didn’t hurt so much to laugh, Gus would have, but he replied, “Because there’re people up there that are trapped and can’t get out. If this Bomb goes off they’re going to die.”
Fighting to get out his words, teen whispered, “I don’t lie, never have. You know that. After all, You gave me such a great example of what not to be.”
Showing every one of his years, the old man tiredly let his arm drop. “You don’t understand. You never did.” Taking a deep breath he let it out. “Save them if you can, but I warn you, if I see any sign you’re changing I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes. You understand Cadet?” he said, trying to regain his old bluster.
Closing his eyes in weariness and pain Gus breathed out, “Yes sir, four bags full. You do know that you’re a mite close to ground zero, right?”
Laramie may have grunted, but Gus knew the explosion was coming soon. He didn’t have any more time to waste arguing with Laramie of all people. Stretching out with his depleted powers, he began the meditation that helped him visualize a world invisible to most humans.
He could literally see the energy about him. Streams of electrons flowing through the wiring; heat radiating from the light fixtures, and down below them, the Bomb. Despite its shielding, he could sense above normal background radiation coming from it.
Gus considered for a moment of trying to mess with the electrical ‘web’ his sight showed supplying the Bomb. Deactivating the damn thing would be preferable. However he decided against it. Doc was just too damn tricky for him to risk it because as weak as he was, there would be only one shot at this. Better for him to use it against the one process Doc couldn’t influence once it’d begun.
He’d waited to the last minute because all he would be able to do was temporarily affect the particles, hoping to prevent a full critical chain reaction, turning it into what physicists called a ‘fizzle.’ Still releasing a hell of a lot of radiation and death, but falling short of a fission reaction.
In his tests, Doc Mac told him to see it like dominoes; one falls over knocking over two more, which makes four others fall. What he’d had done was push some of those dominoes out of the way so the falling one had nothing to hit. It sounded so easy, but there were millions of these particles suddenly flying about, sending billions more loose. He’d managed to disrupt the process in that test but it hadn’t been easy.
Now here he was, injured and dying, about to try it again. Gus Glenn wasn’t a quitter and in those last moments he gave all he had to give. More intuitively than consciously, he touched the radioactive materials and started trying to keep the energetic particles stable.
The amount of radiation the bomb emitted plummeted as he dampened the reactions. Then it detonated.
Pushing the pain away, Val didn’t dare put any weight on her leg for fear of it collapsing. Not being able to use her supra-speed on the ground was really going to cramp her style. She’d crashed through the shields on another of those damn saucers, taking it out, but one of the survivors blasted her leg, but good.
She’d found out the hard way that supra-fast running did not translate into supra-fast flight. She might not be all that slow in the air but it was a damn sight slower than the Mach 1 plus she could push with her boots on terra-firma.
What she did still have was Slow-Time, letting her make the most out of every last millisecond on the ground or in the air. Back during the invasion she hadn’t had this hard of a time with these things. Accelerating to supersonic, she’d used a contraption of Maggie’s to redirect her momentum from horizontal into the vertical. Zooming pass the defensive patrol of saucers, she went right through the shields of the bombardment ship. Once inside it’d been a turkey shoot. Grays just weren’t prepared to repel a boarding action.
Maggie by radio directed her where to go and what to wreck. It’d gotten a little hairy in places. However, she’d gotten clear before that big mother popped the great granddaddy of all circuit breakers and went down. All of their fighter-craft flying air cover dropped out of the sky when Big Mama bit the big one.
At the time, most people thought it was because they used some kind of broadcast power, but the real answer was simpler. The internal explosions killed a lot of the invaders. The aliens were telepathic and had that group mind thing going. Overloaded by a good portion of their group mind dying, the rest went comatose from the trauma. Maggie said it was much like the cascade effect of a power grid burning out once the mother-ship in orbit blew, starting the process.
The captured Grays were almost to the last, from the warrior caste. Losing their superior supporting brainpower from the rest of the group-mind, the warriors either stayed in a coma or became lone wolves. The latter were dangerous on a individual level but not a serious threat to humanity as a whole. Lacking the correct nutritional supplements, they too passed away after a year or so, unlike Ollie who’d learned how to formulate his own. All the invasion left behind were a lot folks grieving for their lost loved ones and loads of alien wrecks full of technology.
Dancing away from another volley of green destruction, she wished that ULTIMATE had been a little less quick to pirate the captured booty. Maybe they weren’t able to reliably duplicate it, but they sure as hell learned how to use it!
Pulling herself into a tight ball, she bounced off one passing SPAD’s shields, careening nearly out of control as her enemies came closer and closer to boxing her in. Her maneuverability had kept her alive so far, but the ULTIMATE pilots had numbers and faster machines. Listening to her Luck, she let gravity help her, diving straight down at the ground again.
Her friend Jeff Fortune was much better at riding the luck, as he called it, than she’d ever been. Perhaps it was just an unwillingness on her part to throw herself completely at the mercy of chance. Even still, she’d learned to listen to the song it sang even if she didn’t lose herself in it. For the last few minutes it’d sang of something momentous getting ready to happen. She was like a character in a movie being able to listen to the soundtrack as it foreshadowed some oncoming event.
Out of nowhere, she slammed into the Rocket as it zoomed in underneath her! The old silver and red paint job was scorched and burnt from all the near misses but the old machine was still giving ULTIMATE a run for their money. Val scrambled like crazy to keep from being thrown off, trying to use her own flight to link her to it.
In the pilot’s bubble, Ollie flung up a thumbs-up before sending them back into a near vertical corkscrewing climb. The pack of pursuing saucers dodged madly as Ollie manically charged through them, heading into the blue on the other side of the stormy clouds.
She could see her friend’s insane tactics bought them some time but looking down at the fighters, pulling hard turns and climbs of their own, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. The first SPADs were already climbing back onto their six.
Hanging on for dear life, as Ollie put on a dazzling show of acrobatics inspired as only running for your very life can, Val heard her Luck’s song nearing its end. Tears ran down her face inside her helmet, but suddenly splashed against the face plate as Ollie rolled The Rocket like a spinning top, throwing off the aim of more green energy beams lancing all about them.
There were just too many of them for an unarmed old rebuilt saucer and a wounded one armed, one legged woman, no matter how powerful she was. Knowing her end was upon her, Val gave herself at last to her Luck, sinking into Slow-Time as deep as she could. Just maybe Ollie would abandon this hopeless fight with her gone. Perhaps he could even save the kids she loved so much too.
Letting her talent guide her, she let herself slide almost off the edge, a bolt of Gray-made green lightning struck her but most of the power of the blow glanced off her screen. Looking behind them, she saw one SPAD that so caught her attention it seemed to almost have a spotlight upon it. In slow motion, it lined itself behind them, and she knew that this was the one. Turning to face Ollie in his bubble, Val smiled, sending off all of her love for the friendship they shared.
Even the speed of thought crawled, this deep into Slow-Time, as she felt his puzzlement and then his alarm. At her Luck’s cue, still smiling, she released her grip upon The Rocket and threw herself into the path of the emerald volley of death meant for her friend.
Ollie felt his heart skip a beat as he saw his friend shielding them with her body. Then he felt Val’s message. There were no words. Just the love and friendship they’d shared for so many years. At first he was confused by it, as he was busily trying to fight them free of the pack of vicious predators snapping at their heels.
Then his heart stopped altogether in horror when the Gray saw her slip free and fall into the oncoming blasts.
He slammed The Rocket into a hard bank, looking for signs of his friend. The pack of killers had split to the left and right, spiraling down after her, leaving only two to go after him. It was clear that Val was their target and they meant to make sure of her death.
He discarded one plan after another for rescuing her as the numbers told him the truth he refused to acknowledge. As a child he could do nothing, as his parents died in this very same saucer. Later, he was helpless to stop Gus from transforming into Kiloton and murdering his own friends. Even worse he, the telepath, was unable to help Jeff as he destroyed himself with guilt. Now it was happening again.
Big Mac over their interface queried, “Ollie? There is nothing more we can do. We must think of the others.”
The grief-stricken Gray was about to reply when suddenly a huge ball of light erupted from the ground, racing upwards towards his friend! The Rocket’s gravitics went haywire and Ollie was abruptly fighting for control. A part of him noticed the ULTIMATE killers were even in more dire straits, as their pilots fought the same battle without the aid of his direct neuro-interface.
The gravitic anomaly unerringly homed in on Val’s falling body, impacting her in a blinding brilliant explosion of light.
“Ollie!” A worried Big Mac warned, as their malfunctioning drive threw them across the sky, out of control .
The explosives crushed the fissionable material into a dense ball. What would had been a carefully calculated fireball designed to take out Area 61 was instead a much smaller one. The radiation and EMP of this bomb was enhanced to kill any life forms and wipe all forms of electronics within the base. That too was much reduced in part due to the nature of the Vaults themselves. Meant from the start to be the most secure storage possible for the most dangerous kinds of projects, they were built as strongly as possible. The only danger to them was the self-destruct device, whose yield was more than enough to take out the vaults and the rest of the base. At the much reduced explosive power caused by Gus Glenn, they were stout enough to contain much of the resultant damage.
The decades worth of accumulated dangerous devices as well as the fusion reactors were untouched by the fireball and so failed to add their power to the explosion. Although smoky and more than a little ‘hot’ from radioactivity, Area 61 survived.
The refugees trapped topside were thrown off their feet but otherwise unharmed. The same could not be said of General Robert Ulysses Laramie. He was vaporized by the still powerful atomic fizzle. Gus Glenn’s body was also flashed to steam, but even so, he almost survived as a disembodied energy field. Energy and matter are after all only different forms of each other.
Gus had estimated his chances of survival without taking into account his last exposure to the Z-Ray 9 and the abilities he’d received from Joyce. It wasn’t quite enough to transform him back into Kiloton but it gave him a few extra seconds the deceased General did not have.
Gus Glenn in his moments remembered how he’d felt when Joyce’s essence had come to him when she’d died. He’d experienced all her fear and pain as if it was his own. She’d been just a scared, frightened young girl, who he’d loved as his little sister. Knowing and feeling how she’d died enraged him to the point of madness.
Somehow he knew that Alan, Val now, would receive his essence now in the same way. He was certain he didn’t want his beloved younger sister to feel more pain or hurt. With all of his heart, he gathered all of the love and affection he felt and held it tight to him as his final gift to her. Unable to maintain a stable matrix, his energy field flickered and power roared out of him as he died.
Rather than cause yet another explosion, it was promptly sucked up into an indescribable vortex of inter-dimensional limitless potentials, as strange and dark matter swirled like batter in a cosmic mixing bowl. Like lightning drawn to a mountain top it flew, ignoring mere solid matter as inconsequential obstacles to Valentina Zarya Savitskaya.
Multi-dimensional energies raged as potentials and probabilities ran wild. Captain Blazzar’s energy powers and Sensation’s physical powerhouse abilities merged with the ones the person once known as Alan Glenn already carried; The Cat’s speed, acrobatics, and grace; The Sharpshooter’s heightened senses, hand eye coordination, and the precognition/recognition no one knew he had; Fortune’s Luck and probability control, as well as all of their mutant boosted physical characteristics. All of those were added to Alan’s own supra-speed, healing and physical prowess. Each and every one of them enhanced by Dr. McClellan’s Z-Ray, not once, but many times, making The Rocketeers some of the most formidable supra-metas of their time.
Last but not least was the young girl with no name. Saul Simpson’s clone of Elizabeth Tyree. A shadow made whole by the energies pumped into her by the Z-Ray, she’d died when the device’s full power had been turned upon her, striving to make her even more powerful. It was an attempt to make perhaps one of the most powerful mutants of her generation even more powerful. One that’d failed and the more powerful setting added her matrix to the mix along with the others.
All of that poured into the woman who had made many life changing choices during her life, the decision to be the woman her heart told her she was, the resolve to help others avoid the same fate as herself. But perhaps the most important choice of all was giving every last bit of herself to her Luck in order to save her friends and companions.
The most likely outcome was for her to simply cease to be. It was just too much for anyone, anything to handle. She would unravel like rotten cloth. The next possibility was to almost contain it and explode, dwarfing the one Kiloton had so recently caused. However all of that hadn’t reckoned on the probability-slaying power of Fortune. Valentina had at last surrendered to That-Which-Mangles-All-The-Odds. Then like the song said, Anything Goes.
The seven different patterns merged into one. No more would they be bits and parts, separate from her, but now one single archetype that is so much more than the sum of their beginnings. Her years of going back and forth between Alan and Val in a kind of pseudo-shape shifting gave her yet another gift. Now she really did possess the form changing talent, but unlike Billie, her choices of physical form were limited to mixing and matching those characteristics of her power donors.
All this happened as she fell to earth. The Gray-built drives powering the craft about her teetered near failure as the fabric of multidimensional space itself was disrupted by the event.
Still blazing with a corona of transformational energy, Valentina Zarya Savitskaya fell to the earth strangely gently, as the fading power warped the physical laws about her. As the last glimmers of that eccentric light vanished, she opened her eyes.
Val found herself in nearly a perfectly smooth circular depression that gleamed with a mirror’s perfection. Her armored black uniform was in torn tatters. The smell of ozone wafted about her as she blinked away her confusion. Pulling off her ruined helmet, she shook her head, trying to shake away her cobwebs. A wistful sadness filled her and she tried to remember why.
Memories not her own came to her. Of the activated nuke ticking away under their feet. Of her brother realizing that he couldn’t stop it, but might possibly be able to keep it from hurting others, like a soldier throwing himself on a grenade to save his comrades. The final gift of caring and love that he sent to her knowing he was going to die.
Tears welled up again. So much had happened in such a short time. It started as a tiny grain but grew in strength and power until it filled her to overflowing.
“My brother is dead!” Valentina Zarya Savitskaya screamed her grief to the stormy heavens.
Power flowed out of her, lifting her into the sky on a pillar of incandescent fire. Anger and sorrow tore out of her as she blazed like a new star. The storm clouds above her spontaneously vaporized, clearing a halo of crisp blue sky crowning her grief.
The saucers that’d so persistently hunted her came for her yet again. Wobbling in the air but stubbornly persistent, they opened fired. This time it was their blasts that splashed uselessly upon her defenses, unable to get past her blazing corona of fire.
A wave of her hand sent a scorching ball of super heated plasma at one, turning it into a flaming wreck. Fury filled her! They wanted to kill her? She would show them killing! The energy burning about her blazed white as she gathered even more power to her.
“Val, no!” A voice tried to reach her. “Don’t give in to your anger! Don’t make Gus’s mistake. Don’t let it control you!”
She shook her head, wanting only to hurt those who’d cause her pain.
“It’s Ollie, Val,” he pleaded with her. “Please don’t do this!”
Val could see exactly how to do it. All she would have to do is twist the energy just like so.
Lost in her pain, she didn’t notice the flying object until it was almost right on top of her. In reflex she almost lashed out at it.
“Miss Val?” Lizzie asked worriedly. “Are you all right?” The little girl hovered in front of her.
The simple caring question made her stop doing something that would have harmed friend and foe alike. Oh Gawd she hurt. All these years, and now after finding her brother alive, she’d lost him forever. A whisper reminded her of the love Gus sent along with this latest quickening. He would always be with her.
Lizzie continued on. “I’ve been help’en stop the bullies from hurting anyone but there’re so many!”
“Val?” Ollie asked mentally.
The grieving woman managed at last. “I’m okay Ollie. I’m not about to go blowing up everything, but Lizzie has a point about these bullies of hers. If you would excuse me, I think she could use some help.”
Smiling wanly at the 6 year old, she replied, “I’m alright Lizzie, but you’re right about all those bullies. Why don’t you and I do something about that?”
The V-22c Tilt-rotor roared towards its targets. Turbulence from the unnatural weather jerked the lead ship around, as the flight of three specially armed dropships followed.
Colonel Randolph Hodges stared at his instruments as they counted down the range. His ground forces had forced the mutie scum back to the very gates of Area 61. The next step was for his special weapon birds to make their deliveries. The Bio-weapons and gas had to be put precisely on target due to the local weather conditions that damn mutant girl had stirred up. Being heavier than air, the deadly agents would sink down into this gene-tainted demon’s lair of traitors to the human race.
He wasn’t sure what had happened behind him when he’d lost contact with his SPAD interceptors. Their superior equipment let him have some contact but now he’d lost that to.
With a loud pop, an electrical shock threw him back into his seat, his panel died!
“No!” he yelled. He knew his career and reputation were going to be trashed because of this, but let it not be for nothing.
“Launch!” he commanded in panic.
His pilot yelled back at him. “We can’t! Everything is out. Power and both engines are dead! Brace for impact!”
It was an axiom that pilots never use the word crash. Auger in, impact zone, and every other word in the dictionary, but not crash. The crushing blow as his V-22c impacted knocked the breath right out of him.
Wiping the blood from a cut to his head away he staggered out of the wreck. It was too damn bad that he couldn’t wear a Peacemaker. Although a talented operator could do just about anything an unarmored man could in one, the fine dexterity necessary to use the Command, Communications and Control, C3, equipment was impossible. Not only for him but for his staff as well. If he’d been wearing a suit he wouldn’t have suffered a scratch. Up ahead, he saw a few hated mutants come out of their hole in the ground. They were looking skyward and so he followed their gaze.
A flying woman and a girl mu-tainted were sweeping across the battlefield. As they flew the woman sprayed crackling beams from her hands at his brave men in their machines. They didn’t explode or burst into flames but their war machines fell into useless heaps as they ceased working.
Another ‘NO’ echoed from deep in his soul. This couldn’t be happening. They’d come so close!
A choking sound made him turn around. His aide, Major Baka, had fallen, his face locked into a mask of pain as he suffocated.
Panicked the Colonel looked around him and saw to his horror that the special mission aircraft had all crashed around his. Oh my Gawd, the Bio-weapons! One of them must have gotten damaged in the crash. Turning, he made not three steps before he too fell, gasping for precious air. Then there was only darkness and the fate he’d earned.
Chapter 59
Maggie practically ran up the short flight stairs to the surface. She’d left Dr. Hathaway behind in the bloody abattoir where the medics worked vainly to save as many lives as they could. The temporary ward was overrun with wounded airmen and other defenders
She recognized Katrina from Sanctuary, as the person who’d refused payment for the rings she and Val couldn’t wear in public. Now, that gifted artist laid with the doctors, fighting for her life.
Maggie passed Val’s young student Josh as he ran down the stairs, not recognizing her in his hurry. Her own heartbeat quickened in her concern for her love as the stench of battle hit her like a physical force. The smoke, blood, and death lay heavy even as the first drops of rain begin to fall.
Once again she tried text and voice, but Val didn’t answer. Fearing the worst, she tried The Rocket. “Ollie,” She radioed. “This is Maggie! Please respond.”
“Damn it!” She knew that mostly likely anything not line of sight would still be out, but she’d hoped that her own much tweaked system would be able to get through.
A little frantic she tried her last resort, her own weak telepathy. Maggie’s power was hell on wheels with machines but not so much with people. In her favor, she and Ollie had ‘spoken’ frequently mind to mind. She hoped that’d formed a link even her very modest talent could bridge.
“Ollie!”
“No need to yell,” he replied. “We’re still a little busy out here.”
Maggie tried to control herself. “Is Val all right? The idiots activated that damn Bomb. Gus managed to fizzle it, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I don’t think he survived, but right after the explosion, gravity behaved really weirdly.”
Projecting calmness, Ollie sent back, “I surmised as much. That ‘weird event’ of yours was Val’s quickening. It manifesting disrupted The Continuum in more ways than I care to imagine. Val received her brother’s abilities as well as his last memories it appears. She’s aware of Gus’s death.”
She cut in, demanding, “But is she alright?”
Off to her right a pair of hulking Peacemaker suits moved, with their weapons at the ready. Touching each one, she shorted out the high-tech war machines' power systems. Frozen and helpless, the soldiers within popped the ‘hatch’ to escape their iron coffins.
“Thank you Maggie,” Ollie said. “Those two were getting too close. I was concerned I was going to have to have to ask one of the others to intervene. Your and Val’s methods are to be preferred. There has been too much death today.”
Maggie knew that must mean her love was alright, but she needed to hear the words. “Ollie! Is Val okay?”
The Gray gave a mental sigh. “It was a near thing. After her quickening, her grief pushed her into nearly making a terrible mistake. Fortunately for all of us, we have a certain six year old to thank.”
Looking at the burning wreckage of the battlefield, as she picked her way through the ruins, she replied, “Lizzie? What was she doing out in this?”
She could feel the sadness in Ollie’s reply. “Like any child, she wanted to help, and she got lost in the turmoil. One of the soldiers tried to help her get to safety but died in the attempt. Caught in the open, Lizzie discovered that most of these weapons could not hurt her. Val sometime ago gave her a talk about bullies and it seems she decided that was what ULTIMATE was.”
Maggie felt a lump in her throat, “Oh my Gawd, did she …”
Ollie smoothed her fears, “No, she flew through their aircraft, but didn’t directly kill anyone. I have no doubt however that some of those pilots died, regardless of how survivable those pilot stations are, when their aircraft went down.
“When Val’s transformation lit up the sky, Lizzie went to see what’d happened. Our dear friend was so lost in her grief she wouldn’t listen to my pleas. Of course, her attackers only made everything worse. Lizzie flew right into the middle of it and was able to help.”
Maggie’s own heart felt like it was breaking knowing the pain her love was suffering. “Where is she Ollie?”
She could sense the Gray’s sighing again. “Val and Lizzie are sweeping the area, neutralizing any remaining holdouts. Our friend is using it as a kind of therapy for Lizzie and I think it is good for them both.
“That’s what I have been doing, directing them to those who pose the greatest threat. Using Blazzar’s powers she’s damping the armor’s power supply, remarkable.”
Maggie breathed out seeing Ollie’s point. “Okay, I get the point you’re trying to make. I’ll give her some space. In the mean time I’ll play backstop, deal?”
Ollie sent back, “Deal. I know you are concerned about her, but they are helping each other. At the rate they are covering the area it will not be long in any case.
“Be careful out there. Their grenade launchers were armed with restraining foam and chemical agents. You have a group approaching 59 meters away at an azimuth 270 degrees.”
“Affirmative, 59 meters at 270,” she acknowledged. The sooner they finish this the sooner she gets to hold her love in her arms.
Billie climbed up the stairs, peering out cautiously. Peter, the guy with the force screen, was already outside. He sent Josh for Malak, Amanda and that big guy that could make plants grow. Something about containing some kind of toxic bad stuff from some of those crashed dropships.
Looking up, a huge fat drop of rain splashed on her face. At first just a few fell, but it was clear warning a downpour was on the way. Off in the distance she saw Val and Lizzie still flying around, blasting anyone still moving. Malak said their teacher was using something that shorted out everything it hit.
A few guys from those disabled powered armor suits managed to crawl out of them but they didn’t look in any shape to continue the fight. Not that there was anyone on their side in too much shape to fight either. Those guys with that woman in the gold armor, Number One, had really gotten badly hurt.
Billie had to turn her head from the still form of a marine who had fallen just a few yards away. There was no need to see if he was still alive. Not with that wound. Too many of the Air Force security cops were out here too. Nearly all who were still alive were wounded and downstairs being worked on by the doctors and nurses.
Billie wasn’t sure what she was feeling but she knew that these people had to pay for what they had done. Checking on her friends, they were concerned and worried over that crash. She was sure that she couldn’t be of much use helping with that. However, she could keep an eye on those guys down there.
Moving to a better spot to watch them, she called down to them. “This is over. Help whoever out there that need it, but if you try and start something, I will take you out,” she warned.
Hearing her demands they looked around for her. Hidden among the ruins, Billie was in a spot no normal human could manage, using her pliability power to make herself fit.
One of them, who looked to be a sergeant or an officer, took a gun from one of those suits. He turned, yelling to the others, “It’s not over, till it’s over! Move your asses!”
Billie sighed. Well she did warn them.
Much like many months before with Austin the butt head, her fist flashed out, catching the troublemaker square on the chin. With a dull thump he hit the ground, not knowing what had hit him. It’d happened so fast, most had seen only a glimpse of something rattlesnake fast striking out.
She stretched to another cranny. “Anyone else want a nap?” she asked.
Sapphira Heron wearily closed her eyes. Her HUD was a mass of flashing red and amber fault lights. Taking a deep breath, she hit the emergency sequence that safely shut down her overheating reactor. It's coolant system was shot and had been running only because of her command overrides.
Darkness filled her vision as her helm's seals cracked, hissing as she removed it. Lifting her face to the rain falling from the heavens, Sapphira hoped, wished, prayed that her sins of this morning could be washed away.
A short distance away, Joachim, Number Five no longer, sat on a chunk of broken rubble. A tired wave of a hand answered her unasked question if he was alright. Robert, for once without a smart-assed comment to make, simply stood cradling his injured arm in a makeshift sling.
Summoning her willpower, Sapphira struggled with her armor’s manual override. One particular area on her armor had taken a brutal beating as more than one of her attackers targeted it. Almost as if they thought it was a vulnerable spot. Weird, because that was the one location she’d reinforced more than any other.
Smiling, she wondered how that could’ve happened. Perhaps she needed to be more careful about leaving handwritten musings lying about. However while it may have saved her life, the damage had jammed her way out of her shot up armor.
“May I?” Someone asked.
Looking up she saw Peter, with his TK screening the falling rain, walking through the gathering puddles to her.
Her voice still hoarse from the battle, she whispered, “Please. Push here and turn ninety degrees counter clockwise.” Gesturing with her hands, she pointed out where.
Shielding her from the rain, he half jumped as her armor fell to pieces. She was left only in the hi-tech jumpsuit-like liner that leeched away sweat and moisture, keeping her relatively comfortable while dressed in steel.
“Don’t worry,” Sapphira told him. “It’s supposed to do that.” She paused. “But only once because no one will ever use my own work against me. Number One is no more. There is only me now, Sapphira Heron. A Greek without a country I‘m afraid. Somehow I don‘t think my former employer is going to let bygones be bygones.”
Stepping close to her, Peter said softy, “You’ll always be the Golden Amazon to me.
Surprising herself with a smile, Sapphira searched his face for why. “Really? I hope you don’t consider this our first date?”
Returning her soul searching expression, he smiled. “Not enough fireworks?”
Her eyebrows rose as she replied, “Oh ‘fireworks’ in abundance, but no, I don’t kiss on first dates.”
Reaching out his arms to her, he asked, “How about hugs?”
Stepping forward into his embrace Sapphira gave her answer.
A short distance away, Joachim nudged Robert, pointing out their boss’s indiscretion.
The short American raised his brow in a questioning invitation, looking at the two standing there as the rain touched them not.
The big German gave him a hard warning glare, but grinned when he realized his comrade was only clowning, again. Shaking his head, Joachim waved his arm, inviting his friend to proceed in front as they both walked away.
Together the two friends left the Russian and the Greek lost in their embrace.
Josh wearily climbed the stairs, wincing at the pain. If there was a spot that wasn’t hurting right now, he didn’t know where. Like everyone else he had cuts and bruises all over, but nothing that required serious care like some others.
The makeshift ward behind him was overflowing with those with much worse. He made himself ignore those white sheet covered forms whose numbers were slowly growing as time passed.
Putting that grim image away, he found Malak waiting for him, sheltered from the pouring rain with a haphazardly rigged awning. “Well we made it in one piece.” They gave each other a one armed grasped hug.
His uniform ripped and torn, in spite of the tough material it was made of, his friend replied, “Yeah, we did. Did you see any of the gang down there?” he asked, with an incline of his head towards the stairs.
Josh understood what Malak was really asking. “No. I don’t think any of our guys are down there. I saw Lizzie with Val, and the last time I saw your sister and Amanda they were fine. I don’t know about Billie. She was doing some pretty wild stuff there at the end. I think she and Maggie were helping to break up any last holdouts, but I haven’t seen either since all those other zoomie cops showed up.
Then he noticed Malik looking off into the distance. Turning about there were the girls, Amanda, Malak, and Billie, dodging the puddles and small streams. Malik’s blue protective screen flickered from the rain running off of it as she kept her companions dry.
Like everyone else they were dirty and disheveled. Josh had never seen such a welcomed sight. Ignoring his discomfort he greeted them with smiles, but his eyes were on Amanda. Hugging her somehow made all of his pains hurt less.
Suddenly they were all hugging each other. He hoped the rain and dirt hid his tears. They’d been through so much and yet they were all still alive!
His time down in that underground hell let him notice the increasing numbers of yet more zoomie soldiers and cops. Mixed with them were lots of beat to crap ULTIMATE guys who were carefully watched by the former.
Malak asked, thinking in a similar vein, “So what are you going to call yourself?”
At Josh’s questioning expression, his friend explained. “Like Ollie asked Teach before all the shooting started. A code name, you know? Hers is Capt. Vroom. To help protect our families and the rest of that superhero jive.”
Josh looked around at the terrible remains of the battle surrounding them. “A little late for that isn’t it?”
Billie got a thoughtful expression. “I don’t know about that. We’re all minors but something like this is going to get out. I’d rather be known by some code name instead of having my family get dragged into this.”
Not able to help himself, Josh asked, “So what are you going to call yourself, Elastic Chick?”
He blushed red at the hard stares from all three girls. “Okay! I’m sorry. Bad joke, alright?”
“Besides not wanting to get in trouble with Disney and their lawyers, that name does not work,” Billie replied. “I really don’t know. Descriptive names for someone with my powers can be really embarrassing, you know what I mean? Maybe one that doesn’t do that might work? How about you Malak since you brought it up?” she asked.
The black teen rubbed his chin. “You’re right about descriptive names, Billie. I was thinking something that would kinda tell about me but confuse the hell out of people all at once.”
“You know how my muscles and skin are like carbon fibers. Doc said something about my bones might be diamond-like from his scans. Well, ‘C’ is the chemical symbol for Carbon which is what all of those things are made of. So what do you think?” Malak asked, looking around.
Doubtfully Amanda answered, “You got the confusion part right. That’s it, just Cee?”
Everyone else but her and Billie broke up laughing. The two of them looked at each other wondering why?
That just made it worse as Josh went red-faced trying to breathe.
Malak managed to stop giggling. “You two really are white girls.” She punched her brother’s arm. “He’s being bad. Cee can mean badass in street speak.”
Ignoring their glares at him, Malik look pleased with himself. “Hey, it works,” he said, flexing an arm, posing.
Billie trying to forget looking so square, suggested, “Hey Josh how about Fadeout or Fade; both are movie making terms? You know, like because you can put pictures in people’s heads, like movies, but can also go invisible.”
Josh looked thoughtful. “That could work. I’ll think about it.”
"What about you Amanda?" He asked the girl in his arms.
Looking up at the storm above them and the rain running off of Malak’s screen, she replied, “I think Storm has already been taken. Marvel comics probably wouldn’t care for me using that one.”
Malak grinned. “I think you could bet on that.” She paused, watching the wind play with her friend’s hair. “How about something having to do with the winds? Isn’t there all kinds different of names for them, like Sirocco?”
Amanda replied smiling, “As long was you don’t call me Windy! But seriously that’s not bad. However, isn’t that a hot dry wind blowing from Africa? I tend to do the cold thing.”
Josh volunteered, “What about Mistral? I think that’s a cold wind.”
She turned her face up to his. Mistral, that’s French isn’t it? I think I like it.”
Malak nodded. “Oui!” Accusingly she cut Josh a glance. “I didn’t think you spent much time in class? Where did you learn that?”
The high school junior looked away. “Actually, I got good grades, it was Hathaway and this place I don’t like.”
Trying to change the subject he asked, “So what name are you thinking about Malak?”
She mimed thinking about it. “If you can do French, I’m doing German and take a page from my brother’s book. Magnetism is measured in Gausses after the German mathematician. So how about Gauss or a variant like Gaussia?”
Her friends nodded in approval.
Malik nudged Billie. “So, have you figured how not to get sued by Disney?”
The younger girl replied, “Nope, not yet. Most of the good shape-changer names have been taken. I do know that I don’t want to be called Polly anything!”
As one they made gentle fun of her.
“Poly Morph!”
“Poly Miss!”
“Poly Juicer”
“Poly-wants-a-cracker”
Josh rubbed his shoulder where Amanda hit him.
As the laughter died down Billie replied, “Maybe I’ll just use Flexible and leave it at that. If anyone else wants to shorten it to Flex then Marvel can go after them and not me!
Josh could only shake his head over how much Billie had changed. That shy sad boy just couldn’t be this giggling happy girl. Then her expression changed to the very picture of the cute amazed chick.
Following her eyes, he knew his own mouth must’ve been dropping open too. Floating towards them was this, well glowing globe, like right out of Glinda the good witch of the north. The bright sphere ignoring the hard rain and gusting winds gave the stormy morning an even more unreal feel.
He closed his mouth. As if surviving a nuke; fighting off an army and winning as well as now getting drenched by a tropical storm in the middle of the Mojave desert was the least bit normal.
Visible in the gleaming soap bubble were two figures, Val and Lizzie. Talk about unreal. Josh wasn’t sure how he felt about this latest gender bender revelation. He’d looked up to the ex-hero. The older man had a way about him that earned the teen’s respect.
As the bubble ‘popped,’ Billie for one had no problems with showing her feelings. “Val!” she squealed, running to the older woman, enveloping her in a hug.
Josh had only a brief meeting with ‘Val’ before their escape, but she was different now. Alan Glenn clearly had a presence about him, but this ‘Val’ put that to shame. Although, like them all, she was dirty and her supersuit clearly showed the rough usage from the morning’s events, there was a kind of perfection about her.
Noticing the rest of the group’s stare, she looked down at her worse for wear uniform. Smiling she asked Billie and Lizzie, “A little space please.”
A bloom of light later, the more familiar figure of their teacher stood before them. The torn black uniform was gone. Standing there in his customary jeans, t-shirt and of course that battered jacket of his, he held out his hands in a display of openness. With that old sideways grin of his, he said, “It’s still me. Well the old me anyways.”
That was enough for Amanda and Malak as they joined the two younger girls in welcoming their teacher back.
Josh glanced over at Malik, wondering how he was taking this.
Meeting his eye, the black teen shrugged mouthing, “Go with the flow dude.”
’Why not?,’ Josh asked himself. Compared to everything that’s happened to him in last year who am I to judge anyone else?”
Holding his students, Alan barely kept his tears away, “Thank Gawd you are all alright! I‘m sorry. I never wanted any of you to go through anything like this.”
Amanda looked him in the eye. “Don’t say that! You can’t save everyone. Sometimes you have to save yourself. That’s what you taught us. I can’t say I enjoyed any of this, but we didn’t start this, they did.”
Alan saw the haunted look in Malak’s eyes as well as those in the rest of his students. Somberly, little Lizzie held up her thumb. Perhaps the six year old understood and maybe she didn’t, but she’d still done her part in this mess.
Speaking up, Josh pointed out to him, “None of us wanted to be here, but without you this would’ve turned out a lot worse. You cared when no one else would. We were just guinea pigs to them. You made a difference.”
Alan sighed. “That’s all I ever wanted to do, Josh. Billie can tell you a little about how it feels when your own body doesn’t fit right. Even after I found out how to make it fit and found a place to hide from these people,” he said, inclining his head at the smoking ruins of the entrance to Area 61.
“I couldn’t forget the wrongs done to my brother and friends. We were a lot like you guys. All of us shared so much, they were all my brothers and sisters. Unable to put it aside, I became Alan Glenn again.” He waved his hands at the familiar form they knew.
Taking took off his jacket, Alan handed it to Josh. “Even though being like this is a kind of a pain and a discomfort, that I can’t really describe, I changed back to this. I wanted justice for what was done to us. For that I thought it was worth it trying to fit in, be normal, and what everyone expected.”
With his wry grin, he said, “You all know how well that worked out. The Senate Investigators slapped them all on the wrist, and the ones who did wrong used their ’Get-out-of-Jail-Free’ card.”
“I can’t say it was a mistake. If I hadn’t, I would never have met that special someone who means more to me than anything else,” Alan told them, looking past them at the tall woman in black walking towards them.
“Good things did happen and I did help a lot of people that needed it. And I met you guys who mean more to me than I can say. However, while it’s been fun, it hasn’t been real fun.”
“My secret is well and truly out of the closet. It’s time for Alan Glenn to fade away. Finally, it’s time for me, Valentina Zarya Savitskaya,” he said, his eyes meeting those of the love of his life in any form.
The bright flash of her change had everyone covering their eyes again. Val took a deep breath. She was herself again. Holding out her hand out for her jacket, she slipped it on over her torn supersuit. No longer feeling so exposed, she remarked, “I always liked this jacket even if it is a little big now. So what were you guys talking and laughing about before Lizzie and I dropped in?” she asked, hugging the young girl, who giggled.
Josh cleared his throat, “We were kicking around ideas for codenames. Seems pretty likely this is going to get out. Rather not have our families dragged into this or have this follow us around for the rest of our lives.”
“Oh I can assure you it’s going to get out,” Maggie said, joining them. “For twenty years the two of us have fought this silent war and now finally we have something they can’t cover up.”
Val saw Josh’s eyebrows rise as Maggie, her love, and she slipped their hands together. Still smiling, she replied, “I don’t think this frackus won the ‘war,’ but maybe it’ll wake people up to what’s happening. The ones that are responsible for this won’t feel the least bit guilty about anything except that they were caught.
Watching his friends’ expressions of disbelief, Josh blurted out, “You mean they’re going to get away with this?”
Val waved her hands, ‘yes and no.’ “If you mean Col. Hodges who commanded these ‘gentlemen,’ assuming he’s still alive, no. He’ll be barbequed, but good. However, if you want the sorry SOBs who are really responsible, I’m afraid the answer is yes.”
“They’ll do the old ’run silent, run deep’ routine until the public outcry blows over. Then it’s back to business as usual. Until that happens we do as much damage to their prestige and reputation as we can.”
Val exchanged a long moment looking into Maggie’s eyes. She knew her love was ready to settle down and live some of their dreams. “On the other hand, we just lost our anonymity. Like I said my secret is out, and I don’t think Maggie’s identity is any too safe either.”
Malak suggested, “So why don’t you feint too?”
Everyone looked at him, except for Lizzie.
A little uneasy at the attention, he explained, “Basic football tactics, you fade back and pull a little razzle dazzle to confuse the defensive line. Then you feint to make their linebackers and defensive backs commit themselves. If it all works, you have a hole in their defense you can run through.”
Seeing the girls’ confusion he tried to put it simpler. “If they are going to fade back, so do you, using some distraction so they’re looking in the wrong direction.”
Val gave him a teacher’s approving grin. “You know that’s not a half bad idea. Ever consider trying stage magic?”
Before he could answer a frustrated Lizzie flew up into Val’s arms. “If everyone is getting pretend names, I want one too!”
“So Princess, what do you want your name to be?” Val asked warmly, holding her pint sized savior. Only she and Ollie knew just how close she’d really been to losing it all.
Thinking hard Lizzie answered, “I don’t know yet.”
Squeezing her in a hug, Val replied, “Take all the time you need.”
“Unfortunately that is not true Valentina,” Peter said, picking his way towards them with a woman, in a gray bodysuit, that Val didn’t recognize.
“Time is the one thing we don’t have. More soldiers are on the way as we speak,” he warned.
Seeing everyone’s curious stares, the woman with him smiled, “I’m Sapphira Heron. I was the one in the gold armor,” she explained, holding her hand overhead to show she was taller then.
“I don’t think it’ll be of much use to you. I survived, my armor did not. However, I am very familiar with the V-22 and 33. With a little time I could get one back in the air. After all we have plenty of spare parts,” she said, inclining her head.
Peter shook his head. “I don’t think we have anywhere near enough time for that. We’ve fought one war this morning. I have no intentions of beginning one with the United States. Arghun hasn’t yet returned and I fear we have worn out our welcome. We need to see what our available resources are and consider our options.”
Sapphira spoke up, “Since I’ve already begun, I’ll continue. Bernardo my second is in serious condition as is Mariko. The only two of my team who are combat ready are Robert and Joachim. Unfortunately Bernardo was our Jack of all trades. His skills would have been most useful, however Robert’s might prove of use too since he has experience in taking what doesn’t belong to him.”
Peter shrugged. “We’re not in a lot better shape. Bob and Katrina are both also badly injured. Ivan is better, but at best is walking wounded. Arghun as you know still hasn’t reported back. I’m afraid that leaves only me,” he said, spreading his hands.
“I could carry a half-dozen or so with my telekinesis, but only for a relatively short distance. More importantly, I might be faster than the helicopters, but not the attack aircraft I’m sure are scrambling as we speak. I doubt we would be able to make it back to our base camp, but we have a rental van there.
Val looked at Josh, urging him that it was his turn. He blinked, surprised, but he looked questioningly at his friends. Lizzie held up her thumb. One by one they all did the same, chuckling at their youngest teammate.
“Hmmm… None of us are seriously hurt, but we are beat up. This was our second fight this morning. I don’t think we can help much in finding a way out, but Amanda could mess with the weather to buy us some more time.”
Josh paused, thinking. “But if she does that.” He waved his hand at the battlefield. “More of them are going to die because they won’t get the help they need. For that matter, a lot of the Zoomies downstairs are in a bad way too. The medical guys here are way over their heads.”
Feeling a little lame, he finished, “I don’t think that’ll help us in the long run.”
The older leaders nodded their heads. Val inclined hers too. “That’s a good point, Josh. This is bad, but we don’t want to make it any worse. There’s going to be a lot of finger pointing. We want to make sure it’s at the ones responsible.”
“Status Maggie?” Val asked.
The tall woman in black returned the smile. “We have a sedan hidden near enough to escape and evade to. That’ll work for five of us but won’t help the wounded.”
“However, I think I have a good rapport with Dr. Hathaway. I believe she’s ready to defect. If so, she could help us recover the rest of Max’s kids as well as assist with the wounded.”
She looked at Sapphira. “In a last ditch throw of the dice we could try and do what she suggested. Together we might be able to get a dropship back in the air relatively quickly. However, we would still have a problem. Fast they might be but not faster than the F-22s at Edwards. We would have to do some fancy flying heading south of the border. Plus we have the question of fuel. No way we could make Sanctuary without refueling multiple times. All in all I have to say is this isn’t good.”
“Your status Ollie?” Val inquired using Maggie’s radio.
His voder replied, “Like Ms. Heron, I can not offer much assistance to the group. The Rocket is lightly damaged. I would not recommend trans-atmospheric flight. However all our passengers and cargo are still intact which also means we don’t have any additional room.”
Val took another deep breath. She ‘splashed‘ a bit of Slow-time to compose her thoughts. “Okay my turn.”
“Like Josh’s crew, this was round two for me. I don’t have to tell you they’d been bad ones for me. Anyone who isn’t deaf and blind knows I’ve suffered a very personal loss today. I also know some of you are concerned about my mental state right now. That’s probably why no one has suggested I use my supra-speed to zip over and check on Arghun.”
“I’m not able to reach my full speed right now because my supersuit and equipment are a total loss. This jacket, I’m afraid, just won't take going supersonic. However, I still can get to the rendezvous site faster than anyone else with the exception of The Rocket. On the other hand, they might feel a little threatened by someone they don’t know. So let’s try this.”
“Maggie, you and Josh’s crew, do what you can to get Hathaway to cooperate with us. Get the rest of Max’s kids out and see what we need to do to move our wounded.”
“Peter, Sapphira you’re to find us a fixer upper transport that’s our best bet. That’ll also let you keep an eye on the military situation. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find Arghun and the Kusbegi,” Val explained.
Lizzie tugged gently on her jacket. “I wanna come with you.”
Val gave her young charge another hug. “That’s a really good idea. You still have your radio. We can keep in touch with that. Ollie I’m afraid that means you’re going to be busy playing switch board keeping this mishmash of communications going.”
He replied, “No problem, can do. Big Mac will handle the conventional radio and I will fill in with my telepathy. However I do have one question.”
“Sure Ollie,” she said, “What is it?”
“Is this Kusbegi search and rescue craft of Gray-built origins?” he asked. “If so, sensors have just picked up one landing nearby. I must say they’re quite stealthy in their approach.”
A very welcomed voice announced from the dreary morning rain. “And no one would believe me when I told them you held me in special regard!”
Drenched, bedraggled, and yet somehow moving with his same jaunty walk despite a limp, Arghun Bahadur had returned.
“Your pardon, for my lateness. I ran into some unexpected difficulties and the Kusbegi pilots were less than enthusiastic about changing their flight plans. They took some convincing.”
“However, we must hurry. There is an army on the way,” he reported.
Pyotr gently supported Arghun with his TK. “Never ever late my friend. Your timing is impeccable.”
Val projected a commanding presence for her little group. “Alright people, new plan. We need to come up with a way of getting our injured folks to the Kusbegi without every Tom, Dick and Harriet getting an eyeful that we’re violating American airspace.”
“Val,” Ollie sent to her telepathically. “Your SAR transport is a Gray-built spacecraft, with a Gray gravity drive.”
Her eyes widened as the implications struck her. “Oh right! Sorry Ollie, I’m a bit slow this morning. You don’t have to hit me over the head again. I get it,” she sent back.
Addressing everyone looking at her curiously, “Okay, never mind I have a plan. Ollie you set the Buggy down next to where friend Arhgun has the Kusbegi hidden. Maggie and Sapphira, you two meet up with Ollie. He’ll show you what you’ll need to do.
“Pyotr and Arghun, how about you get aboard the Kusbegi and do some more convincing. Ollie and the girls are going to have to make a few modifications to their bird.”
The Kazakh smiled. “I doubt that will be necessary. My first argument was very persuasive.”
Her brother jovially slapped Arghun’s back. “And if not, I’m sure my Colonel’s tabs will help. It’s about time I got some use out of the things, Captain,” he said with humor.
Val pretended being shocked. “Why Pyotr! I thought you were acting unofficially as my brother and as my brother this just might make up for that purple hair tint incident. You know the one I'm talking about,” she said crossly.
He turned to Arghun. “See! I told you. She never forgets.
His sister smirked. “We however don’t have anymore time for old times. I’ll take Josh and crew with me to talk to Hathaway. We’ll just have to manage without your rapport Maggie.”
Thinking about her brother, Gus, and his last memories, Val added, “I think I know what to say.”
Pyotr scooped up Maggie, Sapphira, and Arhgun in his TK, with the latter pointing the way to the Kusbegi. Josh and Malik lead the way for the rest back into Area 61.
Val lagging behind carried Lizzie. She wanted to use the sharp senses bestowed by her friend, Doug, to see how much time they had left. Somehow the thought of using those talents no longer bothered her as badly. As Ollie had told her, they were gifts passed on to her by those who loved her.
Lizzie whispered, “I know,” as she found what she was looking for.
The older woman asked, “What’s that Princess?”
Louder the little girl replied, “I know what I want my pretend name to be. Would it be okay if I went by the same one as your friend with the tiara?”
Val felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “You mean Sensation?”
Lizzie nodded slowly.
She felt herself smiling as she replied, “I think Joyce would be very happy you want to use it.”
“Well then, Sensation we have some kids to rescue! We must be cautious. You‘ll never find a more wretched pit of scum and villainy!”
Together they ventured back into Area 61.
ULTIMATE Inspector Philippe Imbert sighed as the true price of this night’s business came into sight. He had at last gotten the gate guards to listen to him even though it had meant he and his team giving up their weapons. That, he had expected. Gathering up every man and bit of medical gear he could find, they headed into the fire and thunder that filled the horizon.
Burning wrecks of aircraft littered the landscape as rain fell from those strange clouds that had rushed in from nowhere. Given the cost of blood and lives this night, this oddly warm rain made it seem as if the very heavens were weeping for the foolishness of men.
The Air Force Captain in charge had thankfully been willing to listen to his suggestions of pairing up Air Force personnel with the Inspector’s ULTIMATE agents. He hoped that would help keep the two groups who’d so recently been shooting at each other from more violence. In particular, at those who were only trying to help the survivors.
It was hot dangerous work, made even more so in the rain, with weapons and explosives still cooking off unpredictably. The UHABs own medics were doing what they could, but in their arrogance, no one had ever anticipated these sorts of casualties. Who in their right mind would order an attack against a desperate foe holed up in a formidable redoubt?
Philippe said a silent prayer for the dead as he crawled out from the wreck of yet another dropship. The state of the art assault ship was designed to give and take massive damage while keeping the crew as safe as possible. Having one engine and wing completely ripped away exceeded those expectations.
More American military had arrived, but so far he and his people had been allowed to continue their rescue efforts. Still curious about the fate of those he had chased for so long, he kept looking for clues.
The inspector found that enormous crater some distance away. Knowing Saul Simpson was released to Area 61’s custody helped him identify the body inside the fireball smoothed glassy pit.
Inquiries to those he aided only added to his list of unanswered questions. He had found that the defending mutants had been badly hurt and at least one had died. What baffled him was that, after the battle, apparently all 30 or 40 of them had marched into the old Rocketeers team vehicle, like a troop of clowns into a car only big enough for 6 or 8. More than a few of those were on stretchers but still they all somehow fit.
Perhaps he would never know the truth here. Sighing, he picked up his depleted medical bag. There were still more wounded to be attended to. It was going to be a long day.
Epilogue: Two years later more or less
St. Viance France
Philippe Imbert, Inspector, retired, reflected back upon that day. Although it had seemed many more, only 86 had died. Several hundred more had been badly wounded out of the near two thousand who had been there. Others, like the commanding officer of Area 61 General Robert Laramie, were missing in action and presumed dead.
Dr. McClellan had survived and had once again disappeared from the public eye. No doubt in another facility still experimenting on the unwary. Dr. Hathaway had ended up taking sanctuary in Zolotoye-Yablochko along with what had been SRT-One.
Sapphira Heron, and other survivors of that group, provided recordings and ironclad proof that she and her team were attacked by ULTIMATE after refusing to obey an illegal order.
In the scandal that had followed, ULTIMATE claimed that the entire disaster was caused by the unstable Randolph Hodges, commander of the UHAB. Suspiciously to his detective mind, they had provided medical records that proved their assertion, along with paperwork saying he was in the process of being relieved of his command. They suggested that he had become aware of this and went off the deep end. Of course the senior appointed heads of ULTIMATE were forced to resign, but Philippe could not fail to note the permanent assistants were still in power.
He well knew where the real power was and that nothing had actually changed. This event dealt a huge blow to their prestige and put the entire organization under international scrutiny. Many nations were reviewing their relationship as well as the laws passed under their urging.
The United States stood by its cover story that Project Chiron was a pilot program for schooling increasing numbers of young mutants entering the educational system and was the only active program at Area 61 at the time. The only misdeed they admitted to was of one of their students entering spontaneous combustion precipitated by mutation syndrome, or ‘spontaneous mutant combustion‘, by the popular media (SMC).
That situation had been handled by the staff and faculty. The unfortunate student died of the condition but that was known to happen to manifesting mutants unable to contain all the power of their transformations. However the government representatives didn’t even try to explain how this one was powerful enough to knock out the power grid and communications of much of the western United States.
It had not taken a genius to work out that Captain Blazzar had returned and that was the cause of Project Meridian’s reactivation. The staff and students of Project Chiron had vanished for a time, voicing concerns about safety. Alan Glenn reappeared and testified as to the happenings of that night although he avoided answering any questions about that mysterious woman who had single handedly ended that battle.
The children were re-united with their parents, but it hadn’t escaped him how they eventually ended up overseas at school in Zolotoye-Yablochko being taught by Valentina Savitskaya and Margaret Carson.
As for himself, he retired to that picturesque chá¢teau he had dreamed of for so long. That retirement had not been as bad as he feared because he found himself called upon by those seeking his help. It seemed he had impressed more than a few people when he had given his testimony over the events of that day.
Now along with taking care of his roses, he spent several hours a day on his computer, doing his part in making the world a place for all humans; mutants as well as the old fashioned sort like himself.
So he could not have been more surprised while in his garden this morning upon seeing a rather familiar Mercedes C class sedan pulled up into his drive. Piling out was a trio of virtually identical little girls.
They were startling because two were black while the third was as fair and red headed as any Scot or Irish despite looking like identical triplets. The tall Margaret Carson smiled as she sorted them out while the shorter dark haired Valentina Savitskaya gracefully got out of the drivers’ seat. They spent a rather pleasant morning discussing, among other things, the events leading up to that fateful day.
He could see the pain still in her eyes, but every time she glanced at those three ragamuffins they softened into almost a smile. Finally Philippe simply asked, “Why come here? Why tell me of all people?”
Valentina laughed, “Sapphira was right when she told us you were an old rogue.”
She turned serious. “Perhaps because of your actions, that day wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Also, because you know more of the story than anyone else. Maggie convinced me that someone else needed to know the whole story. Well as much as we know now after the fact. I don’t think anyone will ever know the whole story.”
He asked, “What should I do with this information you‘ve brought me?”
She reached out and touched his hand, “You’ve been making a difference. Your words has managed to reach ears that not only listen but who can change things. Some of us think that is a good thing. Perhaps you should write a book,” she said with a quirky smile.
Curious he replied, “I can see that, but why not let everyone know about this yourselves? Surely this would have more weight if it came from you?”
Leaning forward as if to share a secret, she confided, “You see we’re going on a journey and will be out of contact for quite a while.”
His old instincts woke. “A journey? Other than the one you’re on?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Oh yes! Somewhere far far away.”
Philippe got the feeling she wasn’t going to tell him any more so he asked something else that had been bothering him. “So just how did you get 40 some odd mutants out of Area 61 that morning with the entire attention of the world on you?”
She gave him a measuring stare, deciding what to tell him. He could see the click when she made her decision. “Peter, as a Colonel in the militia, had access to one of their Gray-built saucers modified for SAR work. It was to evac us out after they’d rescued me. That plan changed after Peter found out just how many needed to be flown to safety as well as the number needing medical care.
“However he didn’t dare bring it in close because none of us wanted Zolotoye-Yablochko officially involved in that mess, which would have happened if it had been seen and identified. You see, we know a secret. Gray saucers have a short range teleportation-like system onboard. It’s really more like a warp gate that takes advantage of the way their engines work. It lets them get away without building airlocks on their spacecraft and makes inter-personnel transfers a lot easier and faster.
“No one else has stumbled on this yet. We only found out about it by pure accident while at Area 61. Anyway, Maggie was able to re-activate the one on the Rocket and Peter’s SAR saucer,” she explained
His old face lit up as he understood how they did it. “You teleported them from the Rocketeers old transport to this other aircraft which kept out of sight, yes?”
She nodded as she took a drink of the wine he provided. “In an atmosphere it has really short range but it was enough. Josh’s illusion powers made certain no one looked in the wrong direction.”
The retire Inspector smiled. “Helped along by more than a little misdirection with that circus parade of yours. Classic misdirection, yes?”
The dark haired woman replied back with a smile, “But of course!”
“How do you ever keep up with them?” he asked, waving a hand at the three children Margaret Carson was herding back towards them.
Valentina gave a sideways grin. “It helps that I have the same powers they do. More importantly, I’m an adult and tests show that right now I’m actually more than able to keep up with them. However, as they grow, their abilities will too. I’m not even going to guess where Lizzie’s talent may top out after being zapped by Doc that last time.”
Philippe turned serious. “That man has hurt a lot of people.”
Her voice was as cold as ice. “That he has. One day he will be called on it.”
Then her smile returned. “Just make sure you get up early tomorrow and watch the news.”
His bushy gray eyebrows rose in question. “Do I dare ask what I should be looking for?”
She just grinned. “Trust me! You’ll know it when you see it. It’s going to be big!”
Pointing a finger at her, he accused, “You know the last time someone told me that, I ended up in the middle of nowhere with great big bombs going off!”
They all laughed as his guests got in their car.
Watching them drive away, he wondered just how big was big?
The next morning, Philippe shook his head as he watched televised coverage from the International Space Station of the colony ship leaving orbit. Just how had they managed to hide that?
It was a stupendous achievement but part of him was disappointed. Rather than stay and confront the forces against them, they chose instead to flee. He supposed that he really couldn’t blame them. After all, the desire to protect loved ones from harm is strong.
Sighing he poured himself a cup but froze, thinking. Before his eyes was the marvelous spectacle of the giant vessel with the very obvious escort of powerful mutants and spacecraft. All the world’s attention was on them as they left Earth for another world.
He remembered all those years of chasing as cagey a pair as any in history. His own words came to him, “With these two everything is a deception!”
Philippe then recalled Valentina was taught by her adoptive father, a stage Illusionist. Who just happened to be the President of that departing colony ship. Perhaps they were leaving Earth for a new home, but then again maybe not!
In any case, he knew significant elements of humanity had a jaundiced view, if not a guarded joy, of their departure, in vehicles made only possible by their mu-tainted powers. He could only hope, in time, this event will be recognized as a human triumph that all of humanity could take pride in.
Lifting his morning coffee done right, he wished them Bon Voyage!
Turning his attention from the tele-operated chessboard, Doctor Albert McClellan’s eyebrows rose as he watched the coverage of the huge spacecraft leaving orbit. He’d known that city state of mutants had shot down several of the giant Gray bombardment vessels, but no one had gotten one flying again.
Well, almost no one, he amended. Early this morning, they began warning away all aircraft for a ‘civil defense’ exercise. Then when the monstrously sized ship rose out of that lake, they alerted everyone that they were headed to orbit. The swarm of smaller supporting saucers made it clear they were protecting their larger cousin.
He’d been keenly interested since some of those protectors were supras. Energia and her brood of ducklings were easy for him to identify.
“Alan, Alan, Alan,” the old scientist chuckled. He’d suspected years ago that Alan Glenn and Energia was one and the same. He had always known of the boy’s transgendered condition. A part of an experiment in itself, he wanted to see just how much pure naked desire for a specific change could affect the Z-Ray process.
The results were inconclusive. Alan received his desire but it could be because of inheriting Fortune’s reality altering power. Now Valentina, as she was known now, had all of The Rocketeers’ supra-abilities.
That was rather unfortunate but this wasn’t the first time a plan had failed nor would it be the last. Setting up Project Looking Glass to fail on schedule, and getting Meridian reactivated had taken some creative measures on his part.
“Ah the small-minded,” he mused. He had perfected the Z-Ray the first time and used it on himself. His then already prodigious intellect grew many times more. He saw the possibilities of shifting the quantum states giving one person’s supra-power to someone else, him.
The problem was that it caused the death of the donor and that presented all kinds of unwanted attention. However that was solved by working for a government desperately looking for some way of creating high order Supras.
It was perfect! He had a willing pool of volunteers lining up. It was just like shopping, letting him pick the ones he really wanted. Of course he did have to actually enhance a few as to not kill the goose that laid the golden egg.
Then another breakthrough! He could tune the quantum state so even after the volunteer had been enhanced, when death caught up with the subject, their powers would still come to him.
However, that Cuba business came up and interrupted everything. Nuclear war really didn’t worry him. He was in a nuke proof base the government had virtually given to him. Albert didn’t even have to worry about small details like security or keeping the location secret. That was all handled by the Air Force boys in blue.
He’d of course made plans for post-apocalypse America but nothing that couldn’t wait. However he decided he had to thicken the pot for his experiments to continue. The children selected for the first Meridian project were perfect. In hindsight, although the power to control probability and chance that Jeff Fuller possessed was enticing, its very unpredictability turned out to be a problem.
It was the Z-Ray Nine that was going to be machine that gave out the jackpot. He had studied Dr. Flagg and the process that turned the intellectual nerdy scientist into a muscled powerhouse. Altering the settings for Gus Glenn’s exposure, he’d been certain it would cause almost the same type of transformation.
The death of Joyce Sturm triggered the change into Kiloton, just as he’d expected. Where things hadn’t worked as desired, was that the resulting damage wasn’t anywhere as severe as he’d planned. Kiloton was supposed to get himself and all of The Rocketeers killed.
He learned that the power he received in each transfer was becoming less and less. Only if the new power was greater than what he already possessed was there any appreciable gain at all. A really huge exchange was needed. Z-Ray Nine turned the Rocketeers into a kind of Quantum damn. All of their abilities would gather and pool as each died until just one of them held all the powers of their entire team. Then when the last Rocketeer died all that power would come to him. That plan went to pieces and caught on the spot, he’d had to improvise. It took him years to recover the prestige wasted from that failure.
Other matters caught his attention and so he waited. Albert could be patient. One of his first donors, had the gift of near immortality. He’d known exactly what had happened to Alan, even though the youth’s ability to control those shifting quantum states was fascinating. To actually be able to pick and choose which one was active and even take on aspects of the deceased’s appearance! Those were elements he hadn’t anticipated. Although it was beyond him why the child refused to revel in the power that had become his, or rather, hers.
He’d hoped that depression would overwhelm this holder of the Golden Grail. However the youth stubbornly went on living. It’d been very clever of the child to hide in the Soviet Union. To his dismay, even there, Alan hadn’t managed to get herself killed. That was disappointing.
Tired of waiting, he’d set up this entire series of events. General Laramie, like his predecessors, was painfully easily to manipulate. As a bonus, having Saul Simpson and his clones to experiment upon was almost worth it in itself. All was going well until that intrusion.
That mutant woman was Alan Glenn’s lover and it was her presence that changed all the equations. He considered exposing her, but that would mean revealing that little alien too. The creature had been hanging around here all these years. His surveillance of the little fellow’s tinkering had proven useful and even earned him a patent or two. He wasn’t quite ready to give that up yet, and besides, he would have to explain how come the alien escaped detection for so long.
Observing them breaking into the vaults was very entertaining as well as informative. Deduction told Albert his own plans needed to be brought forward and had let Laramie have the petty pleasure of capturing Alan. Courtney Hathaway surprised him when she sabotaged the memory-wipe planned for Alan but that was okay. He’d made allowances for the mind-wipe failing.
Then more problems arose. That woman released Alan earlier than he’d calculated, and to make matters worse, Kiloton broke out of his prison prematurely. Then the monster failed to kill Alan just like he had 30 years before. To top it off, Saul Simpson died stopping the monster, ending any more energy clone research. It just went on and on.
Then The Wildfire Protocols were activated by more of that woman’s meddling. Unknown to anyone, that bomb never would have destroyed the base. He had carefully designed the bomb and the base for the desired illusion. The vaults would absorb and channel the damage away. After a quick cleaning, Albert would then have a secret base that no one would ever suspect. It was perfect.
But then Capt. Blazzar had come to save the day. Albert seriously considered intervening, but then Laramie had shown up weapon in hand. Did the overbearing idiot take care of that little problem? Noooo! Troublesome fools trying to be heroes.
Now the Air Force had surveyed the base and had seen just how little real damage was done. In a matter of weeks it would be back to business as usual. Of course his enhancement projects would be starting from scratch again. Alan and that woman made certain that all of Saul Simpson’s clones escaped with them.
Be that as it may, Albert McClellan hadn’t missed the look Alan Glenn gave him at the hearing investigating this entire mess. It was much the same as the one the angry young man had given him after being kicked out of Meridian. He’d seen the same look during those Senate hearings in the 80’s.
Alan Glenn wasn’t his friend and they both knew it. Perhaps in the long run this was for the best, he thought, watching the talking heads explain the transmissions from the giant spacecraft.
JIM: “In virtually every language known to man they are transmitting ‘Good Bye!’. In English, French and Russian are further explanations that they are Zolotoye-Yablochko’s colony ship on their way to Mars.”
BARBARA: “Thank you Jim. Most of our viewers know that Zolotoye-Yablochko is more popularly known as Mutant-stan. Since they are such a small nation, how can they afford to support such an effort? And just how big will this colony be? That is a huge ship!”
JIM: You’re right Barbara. There are many cities in the USA that are bigger than their entire nation. Wait a moment, more information is coming through.
JIM: Looking a little stunned, the talking head replied, “All of them.”
BARBARA: "What was that Jim?”
JIM: "All of them. It’s not an expedition. It’s a migration. Reports from Kazakhstan say they are all gone. Everything and Everyone. Gone to Mars."
Albert turned his attention away from the news. It was actually very clever. ULTIMATE’s political capital was as low as it’d been in years. No way could they attack the mutant migration on their way to the red planet. Although there’d been manned missions, colonies were still years away, if ever. Well, sooner than anyone would have believed possible it seemed.
Like the Soviets that’d built the secret mutant city years before, they were long thinkers and had no doubt been planning this for years. Of course that little Gray alien from here and that woman must had helped with any technical problems.
If the Gray vessel was fully operational, their colony should thrive. Mars would be perfect for them. Well within range of the vessel and a much better prospect than any of the other planets or gas giants’ moons.
Still such a mission would be full of danger and perils, and he could only hope that Alan Glenn would finally make a mistake and die. Then on the other hand, remembering that hate, perhaps she would come for him.
Smiling, he shifted into a form that made him look much older than he was. Picking up his un-needed glasses and lab coat, he complete his disguise. He could only hope that she would dare. Alan Glenn might have the powers of an entire team, but he’d been at this for a very long time. He had been collecting powers for more than 50 years.
Checking the monitor he made sure his room was clear. It wouldn't do for someone to see him teleporting in from his private and much more secure quarters. Sighing, he missed being able to spy on that little alien. It'd provided so many useful gadgets and toys.
A tone alerted him that his distant chess opponent had completed his move. Taking a moment to consider, he selected his response.
“Your move Professor Mortis,” he said.
Just call him Legion.
Fin
“Good Morning My Queen.” A musical voice piped, far too cheerily for any morning much less this one. This weekend was supposed to be magical, the fulfillment of all of his dreams, but he'd only found bitter disappointment, again.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Of course Cathy gets more thanks because of taking the time to make my scribbles make sense. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
The street sign pointed only one way, the little lane met the larger street but did not continue on the other side. A large Craftsman-style home occupied one corner, converted years ago into a sort of rooming-house-cum-residence-hotel-cum-bed-and-breakfast. A big squarish building with gables and porches, the one-time mansion bore its demotion to commercial property with the dignity of a bankrupt financier operating a hot dog wagon.
A woodlot sat on the other corner, a clutter of neat stacks of firewood and seemingly random piles of jumbled logs. The randomness, the owner would say, resulted from the necessary moving and turning of the piles of curing wood. A regular array would be less efficient at the task and would have to be unstacked and restacked to be sure the wood cured evenly. Simply moving the pile from one place to another once a week with an ancient forklift turned all the logs over and assured that each got enough sun and air to turn into perfect firewood.
The lane did not continue past the end of the woodlot or the small row of outbuildings behind the mansion. The house, being the only important building facing the street, bore a singular number and the name of the lane as its address. One April Morning.
On this particular morning, a resident of the former mansion woke to a life-changing discovery....
“Good Morning My Queen.” A musical voice piped, far too cheerily for any morning much less this one. This weekend was supposed to be magical, the fulfillment of all of his dreams, but he'd only found bitter disappointment, again.
“Good Morning Our Queen.” The chorus of child-like song made Tim bury his head deeper under his pillow in a vain attempt to ignore their presence.
Surrendering, he cracked open an eye to view the cause of his pain. After Cindy had not only flatly turned down his proposal, she'd walked out leaving him there on one knee with the ring he'd sacrificed so much for. Although he'd done well for himself that rock had put him in the red. Working hard behind the scenes, keeping the IT department running, no one bothered him unless something went wrong, which gave him plenty of motivation to make sure it didn't.
It didn't even bother him too much that his mangers took credit for how smoothly things ran, although they were mostly clueless as to why. He invested most of his money and had done well investigating each investments with the same concentration he gave the data crunching machines he got on some much better with than living breathing people. Besides, what else did he have to do with his money? With the exception of a good, but relatively modest gaming computer to play his beloved online games, Tim lived simply.
It wasn't till he met Cindy that he'd began living beyond his means.
He stared at the smiling diminutive female with the dragonfly-like fairy wings dressed in an arrangement of leaves and flowers before shutting his eyes and rolling over. Very pointedly, he paid the resulting giggles no mind.
Oh Gawd, not this again!
He just knew that single figment of his imagination wasn't alone. The previous chorus assured that. If he just waited long enough they would go away. They always did.
However, after his so very disastrous previous evening, he'd tried his best to drown his pain in the very beverages meant instead to celebrate his success. He didn't even recall how he got back to his room here at the converted mansion. After he'd found Cindy had actually taken his car and left, he'd given up caring. He supposed it could be worse. She could've taken the ring and kept stringing him along until she left him standing at the altar. That didn't make him feel one damn bit better.
However, hung over or not, what went in had to come out.
In short, Tim had to go, and go bad.
Unwilling to embarrass himself more so to the staff, he sat up determined that he, like Sergeant Schultz from that old TV series, would see nothing!
Keeping his head straight ahead, dressed in nothing but his boxers, he took no notice of the riot of colors that rippled as he passed by as the small figures bowed. Reaching the porcelain throne, he discovered another problem.
Even the bathroom had unwanted imaginary figures peering at him as he stood before the toilet. Make-believe or not he couldn't just expose himself to all of those eyes. However, if he tried to shoo them away he would be acknowledging them. Remembering all the trouble he'd gotten into when he was young, trying to tell his parents about his small colorful 'friends', Tim wasn't about to go there.
Sighing, he turned around to sit down, careful to show as little of himself as he dared, as he pulled down his boxers. Relaxing enough to 'release' wasn't easy either with all of those inquisitive eyes watching. Their giggles so didn't help. Closing his eyes didn't work so well either because he could still hear them.
Finally, it got so bad he went anyways, audience or no audience. Tim had no idea how much he'd drunk, but it all wanted to come out now.
Spooky, it got quiet.
Daring, he opened an eye to see they were all there. As a matter of fact there were so many he couldn't even see the walls as all the 'figments' from the bedroom crowded inside the bathroom.
Eek!
“You're not real!” Squeezing his eyes again, he grasped at any chance to make them go away. The treatments and the drugs had made his childhood a nightmare. It was no wonder he was socially maladjusted or that, with the stress of this latest catastrophe it'd reappeared.
“I don't believe in you!” He whispered harshly, near tears but not wanting to be overheard outside his room. “Go away.”
A feather soft touch caressed his hand. “But we believe in you. Where else would we go? You're our Queen who we've waited so very long to come to us.”
On the sink counter was the same fairy who had wakened him. If she'd hadn't been no more than six or eight inches tall she would've been a beautiful woman. As it was she was an impossible contradiction to reality.
“Besides, I'm a man, male.” He argued, as if reason could make them go away. “I can't be your Queen.”
The assembled fairies stood or sat on every available surface; the towel bar, the shower curtain rod, and just everywhere. All peered at him intently as if considering his words. Then they turned to each other whispering in discussion.
Their spokesperson turned to the horde of fairies. “Is this our Queen?”
Every last one of them nodded yes.
“Aw, come on guys, err, girls, I'm a human man.” He pleaded with the assemblage. “I can't be a fairy queen.”
Actually saying the words made him cringe inside. It wasn't exactly a PTSD flashback, but his childhood dress-up games weren't good things to remember. Halloween became a time of extreme caution where he never dared mention certain subjects. Quickly he'd learned the safest way was to go with whatever costume his parents, particularly his Dad's 'suggestions.'
Batman, yes; Xena no; Robo-cop, yes; Belle, no; and finally Darth Vader, yes, but Fairy Princess, no, no, no.
Standing up, he did his best not to give them too much of a show. Going back to the bedroom, he stopped staring.
The whole room had been straightened up from his messy binge. On the neatly made bed, was a set of clothing with even the shoes set below.
It would've been a fine thoughtful gesture if the clothing had actually been his. Feeling an icy shock ripple though him, Tim stepped to the closet. Staring within, all his and Cindy's things were gone. Numbly he realized that the only reason even that outfit of hers had been left behind was because she'd set it aside for later. In her rush to leave here, him, it been forgotten.
Heavily, he sat on the bed, causing a flurry of fairy wings to take to the air to get out of the way. Holding his aching head, which didn't hurt anywhere near as much as his heart, Tim wondered what to do.
Marooned here far from home with no clothes was bad enough, but he had to be back at work tomorrow. Between the ring, this trip, and Cindy's expensive tastes, he had little money on hand. Maybe he could get someone here to take pity on him, and drive him to the bus station.
Glancing at her clubbing clothes, he cringed at the very thought of traveling in them. He had to retrieve what he'd on last night. However bad they were, it was better than going in drag.
Getting up he began looking for what the little make-believe pests did with them.. Of course the entire procession followed him everywhere he went. But, besides one shoe that was under the bed, he couldn't find anything.
Turning to the would-be spokesperson for his imaginary mob, Tim demanded, “Where are my clothes?”
“Clothes, my Queen?” The pint-sized fairy replied. “Weren't you finished with them? They were going bad, and smelled awful.”
She and the other fairies all held their noses to illustrate the smell.
Holding his temper, and knowing he wasn't going to like the answer, Tim asked, “What did you do with them?”
“Why the same thing we do with ours when they go bad, my Queen.” She said, pointing to her own clothes made of leaves and flowers. “We threw them away.”
“Threw them where?” He asked, feeling as if everything was falling in on top of him. Did the world truly hate him that much?
We put them in that huge smelly box with all the other smelly things.” She said, as if proud of their accomplishment.
“The big blue metal container near the kitchen?” Tim inquired with a sigh, collapsing on the bed again, making another flutter of wings fly as they evaded his fall again.
“Yes, that's the one!” She said happily, but then added, seeing his woeful expression. ““We weren't supposed to?”
Given the occasion that not only was it his only set of clothes, but his best suit as well,. He didn't even want to think about trying to drag it out of the dumpster. However, that made him think.
Assuming even figments of his imagination couldn't drag his clothes away, how did they get to the dumpster?”
“Why didn't anyone see any of you dragging my suit away?” He sighed, wondering what he was going to do now.
“Biggies never see us.” She laughed, as all the rest giggled. “They think they see humming birds and bugs.”
“So how come I can see you?” Tim hopelessly held his head in hands.
“Because you're the Queen.” She replied, as if he was being silly. “You don't need those stinking clothes. These are much softer and nicer.”
He had to agree about the nice part, particularity when Cindy was wearing them. The red clingy dress accented all of her feminine charms without showing anything. Along with the hose and matching stiletto heel shoes, they made him very happy to have her on his arm.
He never realized just how much she'd used him, and it was a bitter taste that he still cared for her. Tim hadn't even called the cops on her for taking his car, although he knew he should.
“Look,” He told them all. “I know you were trying to help, but please stop. I'm not your Queen. I can't prove I'm not and you can't prove I am.”
“Yes, we can.” She argued.
“You can what?” Tim admitted he was more than a little cross. This hadn't been the best weekend of his life.
“Prove you're the Queen.” She stood defiantly with her small hands on her hips.
“And how are you going to do that?” His reply was just as challenging as hers. “Just because I can see you doesn't mean a thing. Crazy people see things all the time.”
Tim rose an eyebrow as they formed a huge huddle, whispering while looking back at him from time to time.
“By the way, do you have a name?” He asked the spokes-fairy in the center of the huddle.
“Rose Petal” She said, and went back to her 'conference.'
“It figures,” Tim muttered, noticing the rose petals she was dressed in.
He warily leaned back as the whole mob of fairies began jumping up and down in excitement.
“We have your answer, your Majesty. “Rose Petal gravely announced.
“And that is?” He inquired.
“Magic.” Her eyes glittered. “Humans can't do magic, but fairies can. If you can do magic then you have to be a fairy and our Queen.”
Tim felt as if he could drive a truck though the holes in her reasoning, but he was safe. The only magic he had was being able to sweet talk a stubborn web server into cooperating.
“So I prove I can't use magic and you will all leave me alone?” With this unwanted distraction from his childhood gone, he could begin to apply some damage control to this awful mess.
“If that were to happen,” Rose Petal rolled her eyes as if humoring an idiot. “We would, of course, have no reason to stay.” She was plainly convinced it wouldn't occur.
Crossing his arms before him in challenge, Tim said, “Bring it on.”
What he didn't expect was the half-dozen of walking wounded that gathered on the bed. Looking at the small group missing parts of their wings and even two with missing limbs, he wondered if flying wounded was even a real term, given they were fairies.
Despite the aggravation they were causing him, his heart went out to them. No matter the problems he had growing with make-believe creatures, the small colorful fliers were the embodiment of magic and wonder. To see them so, the only word that came to mind was, desecrated, was nearly a physical pain.
What happened to them?” Tim couldn't keep himself from asking.
“Cat.” Replied one missing most of a wing, while another nodded.
“Bird.” Said one without an arm.
“When you're our size.” Rose Petal explained. “Everything is dangerous.”
“So what do I do?” He asked, almost wishing he could really help. However, he had to get these figments of his imagination out of his life so he could get back to normal. Tim remembered all too well the penalty for failing that test.
“Just your touch will be enough your Majesty.” The fairy bowed her head.
Tim reached out with only one finger and gently touched the first who'd said she'd been attacked by a cat.
Crackle, crack!
A spark of static electricity sent the little fairy flying backwards!
Yay! A cheer went up from the peanut gallery of all the other fairies.
Worried about the one he'd zapped, He snapped at the rest. “Oh for goodness sakes! That wasn't magic. Haven't you ever seen static before?”
Turning to the poor wounded one who been zapped, his eyes widened in surprise.
Untangling herself from the pillow where she'd been thrown, she stood unsteadily. However, what was remarkable were the colorful butterfly wings she unfurled.
“Ooh!” The whole group admired the stricken fairy's new wings.
Tim sighed. He didn't know what happened, but it wasn't magic. It couldn't be!
To prove it he touched the next hurt fairy.
Snap, crack!
She shot backwards, blown right off her feet.
“It's not magic!” He protested, despite the cries of delight from the watchers.
Crack!
Another spark sent the next spinning away
One after another, static electricity blasted them.
“You see?” Tim demanded, over the cheers. “I don't have any magic!”
Rose Petal flew up to his eye level.
“Your Majesty.” The small fairy addressed him. “Please look.”
Sprawled all over the pillows where they'd been thrown by the charges, the fairies were sorting themselves out. To a one they all now sported the large butterfly wings instead of the dragonfly-like ones they had before. Additionally, not a one had any signs of hurts or wounds. For that matter, none had any imperfection.
Giggling, they twisted around trying to see their new wings, while marveling that their pains were gone.
Like a flock of birds, the other fairies landed on the bed to admire the healed brilliant additions.
All the while Tim only stared.
“I'm a man, not a fairy, and certain not a queen.” He whispered.
Rose Petal, still flying next to him, asked, “Is that really how you see yourself?”
“Of course it is.” He numbly pointed at the mirror.
“Not us, my Queen.” She replied. “Would you like to see how we see you without the glamor the mortals see?”
Tim could only nod. He wasn't sure what was and wasn't real anymore.
His eyes crossed as she flew even closer, touching him between his brows.
This time it was he who got hit by the static. “Ouch!'”
He rubbed the stinging sensitive spot. His eyes stung like he had something in them, but the tears were helping wash away the pain.
Tim looked up.
There was a woman in the room. Bizarrely, she was topless, dressed in only her boyfriend's boxers. Her hair was a curly mass of bright copper and shining gold. A light dusting of freckles upon her fair skin only accented her high cheekbones and delicate nose.
Her eyes were an amazing green, bordered with a ribbon of gold. He thought that the color was actually called hazel, but thought that fell short of just how startling they were. It was as if they glowed, set off by that gold.
Even though she was topless, he'd been drawn to her face. That's not to say her bosom was anything to be ashamed of. While not voluptuous, her high, well formed breasts with their pink toppings gave no doubt, her body was just as beautiful as her face. The elegance of her curves put every fashion model picture he'd seen to shame.
Shaking his head, he tried to clear it. How did she get in here and who was she?
The soft caress of red-gold locks made him freeze in place.
Watching the shock flash across the woman's face, he slowly reached up and bought his hand up to see what had brushed his face. It was hair. Golden-red just like the woman who had mirrored his every movement.
Unable to breathe, he tugged at the hair which couldn't be his, because he'd always kept it very short. Pain shot though his scalp as he pulled forcefully on the red locks.
That woman was a reflection in the mirror.
His audience, sensing his distress grew quiet.
He was her.
She was him.
Feeling a tingling on his back, a large pair of brilliant butterfly wings unfurled like the sails on a ship. Damp and wet, they glistened in the light as they dried.
As one, all the fairies bowed to their Queen.
She looked at them and then back at the mirror.
The Queen, their liege, then passed out.
Tim hesitantly opened the door of his room. No her room, she corrected herself. When she'd woken up, Tim had wanted to rant and scream about what Rose Petal had done to her, but she couldn't. Instead there was this eerie calmness.
“You were always like this.” Rose Petal explained. “The glamor just made everyone see something different.”
“But I've lived my whole life and never felt these before.” She self-consciously touched her breasts. “I even had sex with Cindy. How is any of that explained as only an illusion?”
“It was a very powerful glamor, my Queen.” Rose Petal said, with big wide eyes. “Even reality can be bent by such.”
Then how come you were able to break it?” Tim asked, confused. The little fairy was, after all, not even a foot tall.
“The key sometimes is having the right magic. It was a fairy glamor and I'm a fairy.” She said. “However, I think the most important part was that you gave me permission.”
“Judge her not by her size.” Tim paraphrased, making Rose Petal blush as red as the roses she wore.
However, if removal of that 'glamor' had her feeling disconnected, the dressing in Cindy's clothes was nerve wracking. Despite his being an adult and his parents were far away, he still expected one to break down the door and punish him.
Her fairy entourage weren't putting up with that. Even when she pointed out the dress and shoes didn't fit, they just giggled.
“Oh we can fix that!” Rose Petal waved her hands as the fairies rose into the air circling about her, leaving glittering trails behind them. As the 'dust' settled on Tim, her clothes shimmered and then changed size to fit her perfectly.
Looking smug, the fairy giggled, “How do you think we get our clothes to fit? The flowers and leaves are always too small or too itchy. Our magic with growing things is strong and lets us make them more comfortable.”
“Your clothes aren't really living so the magic will only last just so long.” Rose Petal's nose twitched. “Unless you use your own magic. As strong as you are, they might last forever!”
A swarm of nodding fairy heads agreed with her as they flew about.
“How would I do that?” Tim asked. “Would I just touch them?”
“No your Majesty.” Rose Petal giggled. “For that you need sparkles! You have to flap your wings and push?”
“Push?” The Queen asked, very uncertainly.
“Yes!” Her chorus of fairies answered.
Each one began trying to show her how it was done, with exaggerated gestures and antics. They all of course had to try and out do the others.
Soon even Tim was laughing, as they all landed lost in merriment.
“Okay,” She took a deep breath. “I guess its my turn.
“Just how do you move a muscle you never you had?” She muttered to herself.
Her earnest teachers giggled at her expressions as she did her best.
Then it seemed as if all the air in the room moved as her wings arced high and then dropped. A golden cloud swirled around them all.
Tim gave a startled gasp as her feet momentarily left the floor. Her alarm was unfounded as she floated back as if she was light as feather, despite the heels she was wearing.
The room, already clean, became immaculate. All the fairies, gasped as their make-shift clothes of leaves and blossoms became more dress like, shimmering with magic.
“Strong.” Rose Petal said, solemnly.
Walking to the front desk was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She expected someone to object to her dress, not to mention the wings. However, nobody seemed to notice.
Even talking with Mrs. Dumfries had gone better than expected. The proprietor had to do some errands in town and would be happy to take her to the bus station.
It was beyond strange to hear the older woman talk as if Cindy had been the man and had taken off when she, Tim, hadn't immediately accepted his proposal.
“Along with having the privilege of changing her mind, a woman has the right to take as long as she likes to decide.” Mrs. Dumfries declared. “If he wasn't willing to accept that then he wasn't worth wasting her time on.”
She was waiting to leave when all the fairies flew up.
“Where are you going, my Queen?:” Poor Rose Petal looked as if she was about to cry.
“I have to go home.” Tim said. Even as changed as she was, there were things she had to take care of, responsibilities.”
“But this is home.” Rose Petal said forlornly.
Feeling the weight of their eyes on her as she got in the car, she felt her wings furl themselves, becoming a slight hump on her back.
Looking back at all the sad fairies, she'd never felt so low in her whole life. Sure she'd spent so much of it alone, but she'd always tried to be polite to others. Knowing she'd caused the little fey creatures such distress made her felt like she'd kicked a puppy. Remembering just how many faeries there were, a whole lot of puppies.
Meanwhile Mrs. Dumfires hadn't stopped chattering away. “I don't know what has happened to Simon. The police says there is no sign of foul play. He's just another missing person. However, I still need a gardener.”
“A Gardener?” Tim asked.
One year later
Smiling, Mrs. Dumfries watched Tanith working in the garden. The young woman simply had a touch with growing things and she couldn't be happier about the garden. The local TV station was sending out a report because One April Morning had won a local award and was up for the regional now.
It was all because she took a chance on a woman with no references or experience. To this day she couldn't say why she did, but Mrs. Dumfries certainly didn't regret her decision. Simon, as dependable as he was, often remarked on his daily battle with the usual gardening pests.
Tannie had no such problems. As a matter of fact the garden had never thrived like it did now, with all the butterflies and humming birds.
It was almost like watching a scene from a painting, Mrs. Dumfries mused. The lithe red head among the roses, surrounded by all the wildlife.
Like a Fairy Queen holding court for her subjects.
Well, I'm up early today. I've been thinking about life because somehow, someway, I have today completed 47 orbits about Sol while a passenger on planet Dirt, err ... Earth. As I get ready to start my 48th, I do wonder about it all. It's no wonder that from the very beginning I have always been the outsider looking in. With the deluxe basket of unwanted gifts including learning disabilities as well as some favor of TG, I am also blessed. I am and have been more or less healthy. Unlike, some of the other girls here, I have never been physically abused. However, I do have memories of those really unpleasant years in school. Mostly they were good times, but when they were bad ...! Like others I too got caught in the wrong clothes, but my ultra-conservative parents simply took it stride. I was never punished, but I did get that stern talking to explaining that these are boy clothes and those are girl's ect... Like I said lucky!
Growing in the deep south in the 70's, I was mostly stuck trying to work all this out on my own. In my mid-teens, I even came out to my parents, but they assured me it was just a phase I was going though. I would grow out of it. I'm still wondering just when that's going to happen! :)
Not having a clue of what to do next, I tried to put that "girl" aside and joined the Army after high school. Rather fortunate for me the 80's were more or less peaceful years, so I have no real problems from that time of trying to be a man. I have had my incidents, because I guess I've never been that good at this "Man" thing to start with. However again most folks leave me be since I fight like a girl. Ie, I don't give warnings, I don't bow up, or bluster, I simply take the heaviest thing to hand and start swinging. Ok, I'll admit to being a little pyscho! I got left alone, and that was more of that good/bad thing if you know what I mean.
For years I found myself staring into the Void. Early on I decided that suicide just wasn't an option, but looking back on it, I'm not sure the isolation I surrounded myself with was that much better. I know I don't have to explain about the old, I can't go forward, but there was no way back either deal.
Blessed again, I found love when I least expected it, but even that turned out somewhat bitter sweet. Given a choice, I would never do anything to cause distress or harm to the one I love, but I was so messed up I couldn't admit to myself what was going on inside my head. It was only after we got married, that it all came to a boil and we had to try and work it out. For that matter, we are still working at it.
So here I am now. Five-thirty in the morning, writing down my thoughts. Never really thought I would get this far and honestly didn't want to. Never had very much to look forward to. The last several years has been different. Getting married did change my point of view about a lot of things. Maybe that was why I was finally able to try and come to grips with who I really am.
Because I have always lived inside my head, it was the stories I told myself that kept me at least partially sane. I think if I had ever managed to write them all down, they would rival the Library of Congress in size. But atlas, it has only been more or less recently that I've been able to put any on paper. The first I managed to finish is posted here and I got a lot of feedback about how good it was for a first story. (except for the odd school assignment) Maybe it was because I never dared to before. I will say that the friends I have made here and the acceptance I've found has made a difference in my life.
I think now I'll stop my ramble and get along with that next ride around that bright star.
Hugs!
grover
This is for Stan. I hope he would've liked it.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing.
This has a triple tissue warning. I cried while writing it. I cried while trying to edit it. I cried while posting it. Take my warning for what it is worth.
The older man caught the child as she ran like an out of control force of nature right into his arms.
“I'm Home!” She squealed as he picked her twirling her about in a circle as they both laughed.
“Yes, you are!” He agreed smiling, as he sat her down on his lap.
Joyfully she hugged him telling him without any words how much she loved him. He hugged her back just as unreservedly.
Both were content not to say anything. It was enough just to be together, but like any child she couldn't sit still for very long. He also wasn't surprised when the first words she spoke it was a question.
“Why?” She asked, without any accusation. “It hurt so very much, and I don't think some of them liked me very much.”
He carefully shifted her about where they could see each other's faces.
“Sometimes, it takes more an argument or clever words to reach someone.” A tear began to sting his own eyes. “Some people can't be reached at all and I grieve that is so, however for those others it takes someone very special to touch them.”
“Someone like me?” She said, her innocent eyes wide open as she took in his words.
“Yes,” He agreed, “Someone just like you.” The stinging in his eyes burned as another tear formed.
“Not all, but a few of those who were mean and spiteful will realize that you never got angry or unkind back at them. You never ever had a mean word for anyone, but instead always encouraged others as best as you could. That will make them think and perhaps open their hearts a little more to others when they see them in need.”
“So I helped them?” Her face was a study as she thought it out.
“Yes, you did!” He tickled her.
She twisted like cat, as she giggled, “I'm glad.”
“Now run alone and play.” He urged her. “You have a lot of old friends who are very eager to see you again.”
Her eyes shined as he put her on her feet. Following his gentle nudge, she squealed again as she saw the bridge gleaming like a rainbow.
Watching her run to meet the small ones who been waiting for her all these long years, he let his tears fall. He felt others stop their work to watch as well as one little girl was greeted with happy licks and joyful barks from her dear friends.
“The greatest of my servants have never been men of power or of learning.” He said to nobody in particular, but all nearby listened. “It has and always have been those of great heart and soul.”
Remembering all of her pain and trials, tears ran down his cheeks as he bowed his head humbled. “Like hers.”
"Road Runner, if he catches you you're through.” Road Runner Theme - Barbara Cameron
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. A big thanks goes out to Cathy who proofed and generally made this readable. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
Cue music: "Road Runner, if he catches you you're through.” Road Runner Theme - Barbara Cameron
The 426 Hemi roared, as I pushed the engine up to the magic number, 100 mph. Why Gloria decided that was the push point for activation of the AI, I still haven’t a clue. Well read in Sci-fi, and reasonably intelligent I might be, but no matter how many times she tried to explain it to me, well, let’s say there were geniuses, and then there was Gloria.
Tears stung my eyes. Gloria, my friend, was dead. Maybe to the rest of the world she was known as Gary, a cross-dressing freak, but the fools never knew the precious gifts they threw away when she died. To them she was just a pervert who deserved the horrible death she received.
The heads up display flickered, becoming clearer and more detailed and I breathed a little easier. The HUD displayed my current speed, but glancing down at the original speedometer, the needle was peaking its max of 150 mph. I had picked the best time for this stretch of highway to be as deserted as it ever was, but even at this time at night, I could see the startled faces of the people I passed as I blew by them. Driving a truck for a living never taught me how to handle a hot machine like this one that Gloria had restored.
The 1970 Plymouth Superbird Roadrunner had been a near total loss, after her last owner had wrapped it around a tree. Capable of speeds pushing 150mph, it was just too much for most drivers. It's high, wing-like spoiler, retractable headlights, and fighter jet nose cone, always made me of two minds as to whether it was butt ugly, or cool as hell. Perhaps it was so damn ugly it was beautiful.
Even with the tall tail keeping me firmly on the road, when the AI started refining the ‘Drive by Light’ control system, the Roadrunner’s ride smoothed out so softly you would never know we were hurtling down the interstate at 150 mph plus. Although the speedometer had pegged out at 150, the HUD had us at 165 mph and accelerating.
When had the old car’s restoration turned into something else? I guess it started when Gloria couldn’t find a replacement nosecone for the one that was completely destroyed in the original accident. Only a few hundred Plymouth Superbird Roadrunners were ever produced in the first place, so parts for the rare car were precious. Using her know how, she built one of those 3D copiers in her garage and fabricated her own. Being a genius, she just had to make a few improvements. Later it was for other reasons, but that was how it began.
In my rear-view, I saw the blue flashing light at the same instant the HUD lit up with its threat warning. I shakily exhaled. This was not unexpected. It was going to happen when you were blasting down the super slab like a rocket.
A light flickered in the passenger seat, before materializing into the see-through image of a slim woman in a sexily snug racing suit. She looked backwards over her shoulder at the bubble gum machine flashing lights of the Highway Patrol behind us, and then gave me an amused expression. “Nice. What are you going to do for an encore?”
I kept an eye on the progress bar labeled Phase Two inching its way across the HUD. Anytime now would be real nice, I told it. The enhanced information now feeding in giving speed and location of every car in front of us for twenty miles made it much easier to whiz around them. Dryly I replied, “I love you too. Can you speed things up a little?”
Cue music: “I fell into a burning ring of fire.” Ring of Fire
— Johnny Cash
You know, it was steaks that got me in the middle of this. I came home from work at the county landfill after the usual double shift, stinking to high heaven, and tired. All I wanted was to hose down and get into something clean.
I shucked off my badly soiled work clothes on my enclosed back porch. It, and the attached laundry room, gave me privacy from my neighbors, and kept my house from smelling like a garbage dump.
So there I was when I heard a jovial voice yell out, “Anybody there?” Followed by an, “Oops,” as I got my first look at my new neighbor, and he, red face embarrassed, got a look at me, all of me!
Cue music: “When his engine roared, they called the highway thunder road.” Ballad of Thunder Road — Robert Mitchum
My passenger’s eyes got distant for a moment, but I observed the status bar’s progress got distinctly faster.
Sliding around a pair of tractor trailers, I remembered my manners. “Thank you.”
Refocusing her eyes on me, which I know was a gesture strictly for my benefit she said, “You know this was supposed to be done out on the salt flats. Do I dare ask why we are playing Steve McQueen?”
Cue music: “Well I got one foot on the platform and the other on the train.” House of the Rising Sun — The Animals
While I covered myself up my blushing neighbor introduced himself. “Hey, I’m Gary. I can see this is a bad time, but I’m grilling some steaks. My expected guests canceled out on my housewarming, but I have more food than I can eat. Want to join me?”
Normally a ‘no’ would already be out of my mouth, but damn it I was hungry. I figured, what could it hurt. “Well Gary, I’m CJ. As you can see I just got home, but if you give me 5 to wash off I’ll take you up on your offer.”
Little did I know it would be the start of one of the best things in my life. The steaks were second to none and, catching a glimpse of stacks of classic Sci-fi books still waiting to be unpacked, I realized we shared a love of the genre. “So Gary, what brings you to this little piece of the South?”
Flipping a sizzling steak, he sighed, “Believe it or not, I’m a laid-off scientist, slumming as a software engineer.”
Cue music: “There's a world where I can go and tell my secrets to.” In My Room - The Beach Boys
The progress bar blinked ‘completed’ but I had a few problems to take care of. I had no intentions of letting anyone else suffer because of my headlong charge into hell. However, traveling like a bat out of hell put us into an urban area complete with entrance ramps and slowly merging traffic. I am sure we left a few drivers behind us with pants full of, hmmm…. Waste, but no one was harmed.
My companion raised a shapely brow as we danced though the traffic into a clearer stretch.
Taking a deep breath, I fought my tears away because her expression was exactly like Gloria’s. There was good reason for it because, she had, after all, programmed the mannerisms of the young lady sitting next to me.
She gave me a strange look. “What's going on CJ? Where is Gloria …” She started to ask., but she got that faraway look in her eyes again. Then a great sadness enveloped her. Gently her phantom hand touched my racing suited shoulder, “I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”
I could do nothing but nod as I blinked away my tears. Now was not the time.
Her voice was soft as she asked, “What happened to Gloria? Who killed my creator?”
Cue music: “You got me rockin and a-rollin, rockin and a-reeling, Barbara Ann ba ba.” Barbara Ann — The Beach Boys
I was not the only one Gary had roused out to eat some free food, but the two us just seemed to hit it off.
A life long space and science fan, I had to find out more. “Wow, what field of study?”
He gave me a crooked smile, “I’m multi-disciplinary, but in general, Nano-technology, and the difficulties involved in developing true nanobots like we have both read about. The problem is, working in that environment is like being on a completely different planet. The forces and conditions are brutal, and there are great technical challenges.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “But look how far we have come. How about the nano-scale sculptures we’ve seen in the last several years?”
Gary took up a pair of delicious smelling T-bones. Holding up his spatula for emphasis, he pointed out. “That’s my argument. We are only just now learning how to manipulate matter at that scale. How long did it take for us to go from the Egyptians craving statues, to the Japanese building stair climbing robots? Thousands of years?”
“Even if you take our current rate of progress as an example, being able to make nano-bot swarms with true transformational capabilities, is decades, perhaps even centuries, away. Just building them is not enough, you have to be able to control and direct them. How? Radio is out, because they are smaller than the wave lengths. So how do we work around these problems?”
I had to keep my disappointment from my face. There were real good reasons why I wanted to see affordable nano-transformation technology in my lifetime.
Cue music: “She makes the Indy 500 look like a Roman Chariot race now.” Fun, Fun, Fun — The Beach Boys
Trying to change the subject, I suggested, “Since we’re ready for Phase Two, can you save the old girl’s profile so she can be restored at a later date? She is a classic after all.”
My companion dropped her ghostly hand, giving me a small but distinctive look, making sure I knew her question had not been forgotten. However, some things had to come first. “Confirmed,” her soft voice replied. “Phase Two is prepared for activation. The first generation is ready for deployment.”
My Gawd it was hard. Her every gesture so like Gloria’s, but then again, my friend had put her heart and soul into the creation of the vision next to me. All that Gloria had dreamed and wished for herself, she had used her genius to bestow upon this remarkable, one of a kind person.
To the best of my knowledge, she was the world's first true Artificial Intelligence, designed and built by The Maverick Genius of the century, in his backyard, using parts from junkyards and landfills.
I failed to keep my tears away. “Make it so.” Those words brought back the happy times my friend and I had spent together.
As soon as she said, “Stage Alpha deployed,” the HUD’s slowly creeping faster, speedometer surged. Behind us, the blue, blue lights got smaller as they fell away, unable to keep up with us.
Despite my sadness, I couldn’t keep from tapping the horn. The Roadrunner’s distinctive “Beep, beep!” scorned our pursuers as we left them in our dust.
Dodging the legitimate traffic became harder, but the sirens had helped clear the way somewhat. I knew that, in front of us, the long arm of the law would be preparing for our coming. Like the old joke said, “You can outrun Ford, you can outrun Chevy, but you can’t outrun my Motorola!”
My companion reported, “Drag coefficient reduced from .28 to .14, and articulation of aerodynamic surfaces implemented. Stage Bravo underway, efficiency of mechanical components increased by 50 percent and advanced safety protocols initiated for crew compartment.”
I could feel the seat underneath me alter and conform to me like a glove. A barely perceivable wave swept across the dashboard and the steering wheel I held. Hell, I knew that right now, it was the AI who really controlled the rapidly changing old Plymouth. Just like modern fighter jets, I simply told the machine where I wanted to go, but using hundreds of subtle movements a human never could match, she was the one that guided us there.
That’s not to say I was obsolete. My years on the road taught me what the panicked drivers in front of me were likely to do as I roared by. Working together, The Superbird Roadrunner and I danced though the interchange like an unstoppable force of nature.
Cue music: “And I can give you lots of reasons why. You've gotta help me Rhonda.” Help Me Rhonda — The Beach Boys
I said after I’d finished chewing, “Damn, that is some good eating, but I’ve got a question for you. Just how did you end up getting laid off? You seem like a smart fella, so who in their right mind would give you the pink slip?”
My host gave me his sideways smile again, “That’s a long story, but the short version is, I got shafted. I used to have a controlling share in the company. We had some ideas that seemed promising, but lacked capital to test them. Against my policy, my partner started looking for funding from other sources.” He said, making ditto marks with his fingers.
You mean the government, like DARPA, Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency?” I asked.
Gary shook his head. “Nope. Hell more than half the scientific advancements in the world have come about because of military investment. What I’m talking about is Black Projects for agencies with no names. At least with DARPA there would be a public record, and our discoveries would eventually reach the public. These others,” He made ditto marks again, “Would bury our discoveries so damn deep they would never ever see the light of day. That is not what I worked for my whole life.”
“My partner came to me with this proposal, and I shot it down. Don’t get me wrong here. I know inventors and scientists have damn little say in how their inventions are used in the end. No matter what you do someone will figure out some angle you never intended. However, I do feel that they have responsibility to at least try to make sure that as much good comes from them as possible. My partner disagreed.
“I found that I had gotten out maneuvered, bought out and kicked out, before I knew what was going on. The door hadn’t even finished hitting me in the ass, before I got served with court orders, telling me that all the work and patents I had developed were property of the company and not mine.” He said, taking a long drink of his beer.
I shook my head, “Damn that’s tough! How did you end up down here?” I said, waving my hand at my blue collar neighborhood.
He smiled again, “Just like with Famous Amos, the cookie guy, I lost everything, but at least unlike him, I got to keep my name. The blood sucking lawyers even took that away from him, claiming it was the trademark of the company.”
“I took my buyout, and sold everything I didn’t need. I took this place because I could buy it outright, and because it has one hell of a large workshop and garage.”
I nodded. “The Browns, who used to live here, were big into racing. Built their own cars and all here. They never did make into the Pros, just a hobby.”
Gary smiled again, “Me too. Well, not the racing, but I do like to restore old cars. You know the classics that, back when we were kids, we would drool over as they went by: the GTOs, Corvettes, and the other muscle cars.”
His smile was contagious. I replied, “Never much been into cars, but I do understand where you’re coming from. They were some sweet metal back then, weren't they?”
“Yep,” he said. “I’ll come and get you in a few days. I should have something to show you.”
Cue music: “We're gonna do what they say can't be done.” East Bound and Down — Jerry Reed
The HUD showed the traffic disappearing in front of us, undoubtedly due to the Smokies clearing the way for a surprise just for us.
“Well,” I asked, “I know you’re kinda new just being born and all, but have you picked out a name yet?”
My companion replied, “Yes I have, but you haven’t answered my question yet.”
A moment of silence ensued, with nothing but the sound of the road, as we ripped though the early southern morning.
I spoke, “I doubt there’s a web connection way out here. So I guess you’ve already leaped to a satellite. From there to the police servers, right?” I asked.
She nodded her virtual head.
“There's probably not much there, but if you look back a ways, you can see where there were some other break-ins before that last one.” I said, trying to keep my voice level.
“Yes,” she replied, “The police reports indicate nothing more than robberies of opportunity.”
The HUD suddenly lit up, forming a grid, highlighting strips that had appeared across the highway. The system identified it as road spikes.
“Suggestions?” I asked. At our speed we did not have long before impact.
She said, “Take them square on. I’ll compensate.”
Swallowing hard, I acknowledged, “That’s a 10-4.”
Pointedly, I did not look at the triple digit speedometer flashing ever faster.
With an act of will I kept my eyes open as we hit the twin spiked strips.
Cue music: “But parked in a rickety old garage is a brand-new, shiny, super-stock Dodge.” Little Old Lady From Pasadena — Jan and Dean
A few days later, I got home from work and saw Gary’s garage open. Not wanting to assault him with the stench, I washed up before ambling over.
There blocking the folding door was a huge pile of junk. Gary was there sorting though it like a kid at Christmas time.
Seeing me, he grinned. “Hey CJ! What do you think of her?”
“Her?” I asked, trying to figure out just what I was looking at.
Standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans, he explained, “Of course! Ships and fine machines are always ‘she’!”
“Just what fine machine is this one supposed to be,” I asked?
Grinning like a father at his daughter’s birth, he proudly proclaimed, “What you see here is a 1970 Plymouth Superbird Roadrunner!”
Seeing my confusion Gary laughed, “Why don’t I fire up the grill, and I’ll tell you all about this lady?”
Raising my brows, I made a counter offer, “Seeing as how you’re the one that needs cleaning up this time, why don’t I fire up my grill while you get cleaned up?” I said, pointing at his dirty, greasy clothes.
If possible, his patented grin got wider. “Even better!”
We were both kicking back after stuffing ourselves. Since my fiancé left me high and dry I had not much of a social life. I found myself enjoying these little cookouts with my neighbor.
Just like with any devoted hobbyist, if you give them their head, they will talk your ear off. That really did not brother me any. All my life I had been a sponge for trivial information.
Enjoying himself, Gary filled me in. “The Roadrunner series of cars was like budget muscle cars. No frills, with power to spare, but built tough. The Superbird came about because Plymouth was trying to get the King, Richard Petty, back into the fold. The adage back then was, ‘Win on Sunday, sell on Monday.’
“Like the original Dodge Daytona, it had these huge fins and a wing-like spoiler. The front end had a rounded cowl with retractable headlights; pretty racy by 1970 standards. It worked because they did get the King back, and his blue Superbird, number 43, sits in the Richard Petty Racing Museum.”
“However the model itself didn’t sell well. In a lot of ways, it was before its time. Now, they are hot items, and I was lucky to find this one. Only a few hundred were produced. Even fewer with the 426 Hemi in this baby.” He said, finishing off his steak.
Smiling again, he held up the small door I guessed to be for the headlights. On it was this picture of the Roadrunner, holding a racing helmet. “It really is a great find! I’m surprised no one else had stumbled across it, but I’m not complaining!”
Putting his prize away, we sat for a few moments, relishing our beers.
Then I recalled something I saw earlier in the week that I wanted to mention to him. “Gary, you remember when you were telling me about the communications difficulties nano-tech machines would have?”
Looking over at me from the top of his beer he nodded, “Sure.”
I asked, “You mind if I babble for awhile?”
He shrugged, “It’s not as if I’m in the biz anymore. Cut loose.”
I took a deep breath. “Well seems like what you were probably working with is something like the way viruses communicate with each other. That's not too unlike the way insects do it. I was wondering, if the way higher order insects like bees talk with each other, could be a step in the right direction?”
Gary stopped and gave me a really hard look that made me wonder if I had gone too far. “Why do you want to know?”
Sighing, I had boxed myself into a corner. There was a real good reason why workable nano-transformation was very important to me. I decided that giving him part of the answer wouldn't be lying, because it would be the truth, just not all of it.
“Gary,” I said. “If the human race is to survive we have to get out of the bowl of planet Earth. This green environmental stuff is a load of crap. No matter how careful we are, everything we do damages the biosphere in some way. Only out there, “ I said, throwing my head up at the stars just beginning to sparkle, “can we be sure we’re not making things worse.”
“What’s more, I want to be there. Because of one reason or another I’ve thrown my life away. It’s too late to reasonably expect me to be able to make it up there. I need a second chance. Getting nanos to work can give me that with their ability to rebuild and transform. Give the whole world another chance.
Gary sighed, “It’s okay CJ. I’m just a little paranoid after that mess of losing my company. I thought for a moment you were some spy, here to pump me for information for my know-how, after my partner found out the hard way that, when I said ‘I was running the research and development,’ I really was the man. We had some good people, but it was me that they ran to when a problem had to be sorted out. Sorry about that, CJ.”
I waved off his concern. “Think nothing of it, no worries.”
“What were you watching when you saw this? If you don’t mind me asking.” Looking puzzled, he had a quizzical expression.
I found myself smiling this time. “You mean, since I drive a truck, and work in the county landfill? I keep telling people that what I do, isn’t who I am. Besides, like I told you last week, I’m a big Sci-fi fan. The real ones watch more Discovery than Syfy channel.”
His trademark grin broke out again. “You got that right. Still I do like catching some of the old classic series like Trek and Star Gate.”
I laughed, “That is about the only reason, because Gawd knows those made for TV, direct to video movies, sure as hell aren’t!”
We both opened another beer, and I answered his question. “Well, there was this PBS program about great discoveries. One of the things they covered was the doctor who worked on that one. When they started talking about chemical triggers, that made me think of how bee scouts, returning to the hive, do their dance and pheromone release, to tell the workers where to go. It seemed like to me, that might work for nanos as well.”
Gary rubbed his chin in thought. “You know it would still be complicated, but better than trying to include the entire blueprint inside each nano, or something like phone lines running between each one. Kind of like a messenger service, with the central processing unit sending out wranglers, or guides, to direct the workers. That way the individual units could be simpler to construct. You would need only a few processing nodes to run the swarm, maybe only one.”
He continued musing, “You would still need some serious processing power to come up with the design to start with, but that is a given anyway. Still, following nature’s lead in doing things has worked before. Why reinvent the wheel?”
That big ole grin of his reappeared, “CJ you’re a genius. I tell you what. In the unlikely event I ever get control of my company again, you’re hired!”
I shook my head, chuckling. “No need for that. Just give me the first shot when you’ve got the transforms worked out for humans.”
My friend laughed, “Deal. I could stand to lose a few years myself.” Then looking down at his midsection somewhat distended from all the food, he added, “Not to mention a few pounds too!”
Cue music: “My buddies and me are getting real well known.” I Get Around — The Beach Boys
Then, suddenly, we were through! Outside views popped up on the HUD, showing the remains of the spikes, whipping high into the air from our passage.
My companion leaned over and hit the Roadrunner emblem horn, “BEEP, BEEP!”
Again, I knew it was a show for my benefit because, by this time her real self controlled nearly every molecule of the car. Yeah, up to and including yours truly. However, Gloria and I, in one of our many talks, agreed that if you never took chances in life, then you might as well have gone ahead and climbed into the coffin, saving yourself some trouble. Playing it safe would never let our dreams come true. You had to go out there and make them come true.
The display enlarged the shrinking image, as we raced away, of the Smoky Bears shaking, and scratching their heads at the ripped and torn barrier meant to tear the Roadrunner’s tires to ribbons.
Wondering myself, I asked, “Just what just happened?”
Tossing her mane of hair playfully, she smiled. “I accelerated Stage Charley. Using the nano-bot swarm, I transformed our racing tires into smart wheels that compensate for adverse road conditions. When the spikes penetrated, the smart material flowed around them, preventing any damage.
“I could have left it there, but I used the swarm still in the area to harvest what I could for raw materials. This vehicle is very robustly built, but I don’t want to weaken the structure any more than necessary to continue my upgrades.
My breath caught in my throat, because preventing easy access to materials was one of the reasons Gloria had given for setting up our experiment in this way. Neither one of us was ignorant of the Gray Goo, fears of out of control nanobots disassembling the entire planet into raw material, to make even more nanobots, leaving the world nothing but a lifeless ball of nano-goo.
Seeing my pale face, she laughed, “Oh lighten up. It was only a little extra metal. I’m not out of control.”
Then her face turned serious as she said, “The police reports said those robberies were unconnected to the one where my creator was killed. You say they were?”
I sighed, as the unpleasant memories came back to me. “Yeah. Our neighborhood is a little off the beaten path. We tend to look out for each other. If they were that random, why did no one else in the area get hit? No, whoever broke in knew what they were doing, and targeted her specifically.
A red, flashing grid outlined another set of strips up ahead. The Smokies had decided to try again. A quick study of the GPS HUD linked map gave us an estimated two hours before reaching our destination. I had really hoped to be a bit further along before they got really determined to stop us.
“Same as last time?” I asked.
She said, “Exactly.
At near 200 mph, we blew though them.
Looking at the ruined strips tumbling behind us I knew this was the last easy attempt at us. Next would come the serious bad stuff.
My companion relentlessly asked, “Back to my inquiry, how are the robberies, and Gloria’s death connected with our destination?”
Cue music: “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.” I Walk the Line — Johnny Cash
Coming home that evening and seeing the police cars in front of Gary’s place was a shock. Concerned, I went right over, just as the cops were leaving, Poor fella was trying to put his home back together after someone had trashed the hell out of it.
“Hey, you okay?” I asked.
He looked up with a put out expression on his face, “Some asses broke in and messed up my place.”
I could tell he was upset. “Why don’t I fire up my grill, and you can take it easy tonight?”
Dropping the handful of papers on his desk, Gary nodded. “That actually sounds pretty good. However could we skip the steaks tonight? I’m packing on a spare tire with all these cookouts of ours.”
I smiled, “Sure no problem. I don’t normally eat this much beef either. How does some grilled chicken and veggies strike you?”
My friend gave me a shadow of his usual grin. “That does sound good, but would you please do something for me first? Now I know why you always insist on getting cleaned up from work first thing. Whew!” He said waving his hand in front of his nose.
“Oops! Sorry about that.” I said stepping out.
He just shook his head at me. “Don’t worry about it. You take care of business, and I’ll see what I can do here.” He said, turning back to the disaster.
A little while later the coals were nice and hot, ready to start cooking. The weather was finally cooling off some from the summer, and fall was around the corner. The seasoned chicken sizzled as I threw them on.
Gary was sprawled out in the patio chair.
“What did they take?” I asked, aware that I was treading on sensitive ground.
He shook his head. “That’s the thing. Nothing of any real value that I can find. They mostly just broke in and tore everything up. If I was still working on sensitive projects, that I could understand, but I’m not. The programs I’m working on where I work now aren’t anything special, just troublesome.”
I remembered he had said something about his old partner who backstabbed him, and who may have found out that he had slaughtered the Golden Goose when he stole Gary’s company and forced him out. Hell he even thought for a moment that I was some sort of plant, sent to milk him for ideas.
Flipping a savory chicken breast, I pointed out, “If they didn’t take anything out, maybe they brought something in?”
He blinked at me a few times and cursed as he worked out my meaning. “Sonofabitch!” he said jumping up.
Hey!” I spoke sharply, to get his attention. “No use going looking now. If they put you under surveillance, they probably did a good job, considering how they planned this. Give yourself some time to work out how to deal with these assholes. Besides, I could be wrong. Maybe it was no more than a bunch of punk kids having one last fling before going back to school.”
Gary shook his head. “No. This is a classic. Take just enough to make me think it was a theft, but not enough to make me strip the place out and start over. If they have stuff hidden in there, that would be self-defeating.” He sighed, “You are right. It’s going to take some thinking to clean the place up if they did place listening devices. If I just hired some professionals, they would know something was up and try something else. At least we can be reasonably sure we’re okay here,” he said, waving his hand at my backyard.
This being the south, my bug-zappers and Mosquito magnet always got a workout. Now I’m a big fan of do no harm to any living creature as long as they do no harm to me, even bugs. However, since the damn critters come in sun darkening clouds in this part of the country, I have little sympathy for the bloodsuckers. This does mean that the busy machines are busy zapping away, and generating an EM field. You know, stuff that tends to interfere with listening devices.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Not only are we in my yard, but the EM should give us a little privacy. Although, if anyone is in the woods spying on us, I almost pity the poor bastards, given our robust wildlife.”
He gave me another interesting look, but laughed, “I remember. What you do, isn’t who you are!” He said laughing.
Sending him a hurt expression back, I tested a tasty morsel for doneness. “Hey, my being paranoid doesn’t hurt anyone and it keeps me out of trouble!”
We both laughed.
He gasped out, “Yeah! The doctors say I’m much better now!”
Laughing, I slapped some hot food onto our plates. We were both soon enjoying good food, and good company, under the early fall stars of the southern sky.
The next day as I trudged to my back porch to hose off, I found a note with magic markered BIO-CONTAMINATION tri-foils on it.
Hey CJ! Come on over when you’ve decontaminated yourself!
Gary
I shook my head at the humor, but I could see his point. The landfill paid pretty good, because no one wanted to work there. However it gave a whole new meaning to the word, stench.
Cleaning up and feeling human again, I went over to see what my friend had found. Peering inside of his opened garage, he was in the middle of a chaotic pile of junk. On a huge monitor screen, bigger than my TV, he had all these little animated bits running around.
While I stood there, wondering if I dared to enter, he looked up. “Hey come on in! I’ve been thinking about what you said, regarding using insect social models for nano-machines. We might be onto something! More, you mentioned evolution, and that got me to thinking about the old idea of using one machine, not only to build the next smaller one, but to design the next smarter one too.” He excitedly explained.
I had to shake my head. “None of that is new. Folks have been experimenting with using nature’s designs for awhile, and machine evolution is kinda old too. Of course getting it to work is entirely another matter.”
Gary’s wide grin lit up his face, “Hah! However, there are computers that have successfully come up with new ideas that have been patented. I think I’ve come up with a way to bootstrap the process!”
Tired, and a bit steamrollered by my friend's enthusiasm, I asked, “What happened to searching for any spy stuff your visitors might have left behind yesterday?”
He waved a hand, dismissing my question. “Oh, I found those. Rather than destroy them, and maybe create another problem I reprogrammed them, and took over their systems. They won’t send out anything that I don’t want them to. No problem!”
Then he went on talking about queen bees and other specialized castes for his nanobots. I guess that is why he’s called a genius.
That’s the way things went for awhile, I would come home, mosey over to Gary’s place, to see all those Plymouth parts slowly start to look like a car, or him working on that machine evolution program of his.
It was amazing, watching him fully engaged in a project. Before, it was as if he was just sitting in idle. But now he was in gear and tearing down the track. Somehow I had turned into his sounding board for his ideas. It was during one of those visits that I asked, “Not run a subject into the ground, but what are you going to do if those guys who had you bugged start smelling a fox in the henhouse.?”
Gary stopped for moment as his ‘gee whiz, do it yourself’ 3D copier, fabricated the Plymouth’s distinctive nosecone. Most car manufacturers call it a fascia nowadays, but this car was from a time when the only thing out front of a car, was a bumper.
Normal 3D copiers use silicon, or some other pliable substance, to build up micro layers of materials, to make a 3 dimensional form. Normally this is a prototype giving the engineers the chance to see and touch their computerized design. Somehow, Gary had gone a step beyond that, making real usable parts with his skipping across prototyping, straight to finished product.
Looking around at all the incriminating evidence about us, he sighed, “CJ, you are the best damn assistant I’ve ever had. I get stuck on something, and a little talk with you shows me just where I need to go. Unfortunately, you’re right again.” He said, running his hands though his hair.
I rubbed at my chin as I surveyed his workshop. It would be hard to imagine anything more like a modern mad scientist's laboratory. Every surface was covered in parts or tools. Monitor screens hung all about, and wiring ran in thick cables along the walls.
“I can’t see how you could possibly cover it all up, or hide it,” I said, trying to work my way though the problem. “Perhaps you could mislead them about what this is all for. You know, like the Soviets were fond of doing during the Cold War. Maskirovka I think is what they called it. It was all about deception, and hiding stuff in plain sight.”
Gary looked around and then that big grin of his came out. “The car! We can say this is all for the car.”
I must have looked a little dubious, because he took off explaining.
“People do it all the time. They restore vintage cars and then take them out, to try and set records for that particular model. Everything has to be absolutely perfect for the record attempt to be valid.
Looking at all the high tech equipment, I was still unconvinced. “I don’t know, Gary.”
He, however, was on a roll. “It’ll work! Like that movie they made, ‘The World’s Fastest Indian.’ I’ll just have to reconfigure stuff in here a little. Hey, I can do even better. With all the room in this baby, I can hide my work inside her.” He said, slapping the Plymouth’s exposed frame.
I eyed the partially reconstructed car. Compared to modern wheels, the thing was huge. It was nearly as long as a Ford Excursion, or Chevy Suburban, but it was only a two door coupe. “That is a good point. You could hide your whole workshop in the trunk!”
We both laughed!
As the seasons tend to do, the fall changed into winter, and along with it came a little bad weather. The cold, wet, icy stuff doesn't happen often in our neck of the woods, but when it does things grind to a stop. The infrastructure isn't set up to deal with it and, since it's such a rare event, it's better to have a snow day, than invest in equipment that will maybe get used once or twice a year, if that.
Pulling into my snow covered drive made me exhale in relief. At least I had a clue how to drive in this stuff, unlike everyone else around here. However, no matter the number of close calls, I was home.
I was off work after barely a half day and looking forward catching up on my own hobby. Now, if only the power stayed on, I could get caught up on my writing that I had been falling behind on, because of spending so much time hanging with Gary.
Not only was I a Sci-fi reader, but a writer as well. Perhaps, a hopeful wannabe writer is more like it and, just as much fantasy as science. However I had gotten a book published. Okay, it was self-published and had way too many grammatical errors, but damn it, I had a dead tree edition book with my name on the cover. Better yet, I had even sold a few.
However, it was something, I had never shared with my friend, Gary. I had thought about it a time or two, but it simply revealed too many things about myself that I was still wrestling with. Opening up to fellow authors and readers online was one thing, doing it in person was another. Of course I wasn't afraid at all that I would chase away about the only friend I had still had. Not!
Crunching though the snow, I decided to visit Gary before I hermited-up to write. Knowing how he could get wrapped up in his project, he might not have even noticed it was white outside. It was a good thing that he could take care of his day job blindfolded, given how much time he put into that wreck he was restoring.
Fortunately, for once, I did not smell like a garbage dump, since he could've smelt me coming. I spent so much time at his place, I lived there as much as I did at my own. Not to say, I wasn't keeping an eye on him since that last break-in he had. I worried about Gary. If his ex-partner had sold his soul to the forces of Black Projects, and had found himself unable to deliver, the fool could be a little desperate. People like that might try anything, and I didn't want my friend becoming a victim.
Turning the corner into his living room, my mouth dropped open. Standing there before me, with that deer in the headlights look in her eyes, was my first sight of Gloria.
Let’s get something straight first. If a person is presenting as a guy, then he is a him. A no brainier, right? So if they present as femme then, guess what? She is a her.
I was not thinking about any of that at the moment. What was going though my head was how badly I'd screwed up. How was I going to handle this without hurting my friend? No doubt I could've done better than what I did, but I’m, after all, only a flawed human being.
I whipped around, turning my back to her. Before she could flee I apologized. “Ooops! Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to catch you unawares. We have a Snow Day, and I’m back from work early. Wanted to tell you I was going to be busy, at least for a few hours, unless the power goes out. Even in this weather we might end up grilling tonight.”
I paused, “You alright?”
A small voice answered, “Hmmm, I’m fine. I was …” She stuttered.
As gently as I could, I interrupted. “If, and when you’re ready, we can talk. Okay?”
She answered softly, “Okay.”
Without another word we parted. As soon as I walked inside my house, I broke down crying, as the melting snow from my boots puddled about me. The carpet of this place of broken dreams soaked up the fallen tears, as it had so many other times. Alone, as the snow whispered from the sky, I cried for my cowardice. I cried for my friend, and my own lost dreams.
Cue music: “When something comes up to me he don't even try cause if I had a set of wings man I know she could fly.” Little Duce Coupe - The Beach Boys
My electronic oracle, the HUD, read our velocity as 250mph. Once again my companion must have upgraded its capability, as it forecasted conditions 50 miles in front of us. Judging from the image in a picture view box gave us, she had tapped into a satellite, possibly military, from the crispness of the picture.
At our current speed we would reach that location in about 12 minutes. From the harried pace the crews were nearly throwing those concrete barriers off the tractor-trailers they knew that as well.
Sighing, I answered her, “We believed that, yes, Gloria’s old partner was trying to spy on him. I guess it's, in a way, my fault because my ramblings gave her the inspiration for all of this,” I said, waving my free hand to indicate her and the rapidly evolving Plymouth.
“The reason this car is here at all, is because it started as a cover for Gloria’s whole Queen Bee, nanotech thing. Somewhere along the way it changed into this. But,” I asked. “Since we’re back on the subject of this car, what are we going to do about that barrier we’re going to hit, in about 10 minutes? Any ideas?”
My heart almost seized up as she gave a big grin, so like Gloria’s. “Sure I do. Go right through them. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I showed my doubt as to that wisdom. “Are you sure about that? Running though spikes was one thing, but those are reinforced, concrete, traffic barriers. This old lady might be made of good American steel, but hitting one of them at this speed would make us look like a crushed out cigarette.”
Still grinning she said, “Trust me! Ain’t no stinking concrete gonna stop us!”
Pausing, her image flickered, becoming seemingly more solid and realistic. “Besides, I have yet to learn what Gloria’s old company, Paradigmatic, and partner, had to do with her death.”
We were bearing down on the roadblock at better than 4 miles a minute, and I admit that, despite her reassurances, this had a pucker factor that was off the scale.
Grinning at my discomfort, she made as if to strap her own self down in the five point safety harness. Being just a hologram, I knew she was just messing with me again.
“Do you know,” she asked, “What the most difficult task is for a car, at this velocity?”
I had some ideas, but was afraid to ask, as we streaked forward. Suddenly I could see the mass of flashing lights, concrete, and vehicles. “No, but you’re going to tell me aren’t you?”
With my eyes locked forward, somehow I just knew she was still grinning.
Small speed-brake panels snapped open around the Superbird, and the huge spoiler turned into an aircraft elevator. “Keeping it on the ground! Yee hah” She yelled, as we went airborne!
“Oh Shiiiit!,” I screamed out of clenched teeth.
In slow motion, I could somehow see the shocked faces of the Highway Patrolmen, as we literally sailed over the roadblock with barely an inch to spare. To add insult to injury, I heard her giving them the infamous Dukes of Hazard’s Dixie salute, as we disobeyed the law of gravity, along with all the other ones we were breaking.
Like the paratroopers, I used to hang with, back in my army days, used to say, “It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the sudden stop at the end.”
However, though the bump was a bit rough, we had all four tires on the ground and was back on our way. Lacking wings we couldn't fly, but that was one helluva touch and go! The speed-brake-like aero-panels dotting the Plymouth, flicked in and out, constantly controlling our direction and stability with a smooth precision.
Giving a smug expression she said, “See? Nothing to it!
My frantically beating heart disagreed!
Cue music: “The taste of love is sweet when hearts like ours meet.” Ring of Fire — Johnny Cash
A few weeks passed and, while we both tried to pretend nothing had happened, that I hadn't seen what I did, it wasn't the same. All the while I damned myself as a coward, because I'd my own secrets. I knew that if I shared them, it would help heal this breach between us.
That was something more easily said than done. I spent decades ignoring, and hiding those secrets from everyone, including myself. Oh, they always were there, but sometimes I could pretend otherwise. It was only the disintegration of my happy dream with my fiancé that brutally rubbed my face in the truth that it wouldn’t stay buried.
Okay, maybe that was a lie all along, but for a brief time it had made me happy for the first time in years. However, now my cowardice was threatening one of the closest friendships I ever had. Each time I tried to tell Gary, I choked. I just could not, no matter how much he and I were hurting.
Finally, I came clean with one of my online confidants. She suggested a simple solution. There was no beating me up about my lack of strength, because she had gone though something like this herself. It was hard, telling those we cared for, about this secret we shared. She suggested a letter, but I thought about it, and came up with something similar, yet different.
That weekend I invited him over for dinner. We were both still on tippy-toes around each other, separated by our own misperceptions.
As nervous as I had ever been in my life, I slid the book across to him, after we had finished eating. At the time, he was getting ready to leave, since both of us were so uneasy. Taking my fears firmly under control, I said, “Hey, I have something for you.”
Gary took the book, turning it over to read the back cover. He was still uncomfortable, but he asked, “Any good?”
Nervously, I replied truthfully, “I don’t want to give away any spoilers, but I highly recommend it. To tell the truth, I would like to know what you think about it.”
He nodded. Before my faux pas, we'd spent many evenings discussing our favorite authors and books.
Smiling sadly, he said, “Sure I’ve run into a problem with the car anyways. I can use something to read until I can work it out.”
Watching him leave with my book, my knees felt weak. I had written and posted that story online and then, after many troubles, had gotten it published with the help of the website where I'd posted the story. Near twenty years of disuse had not helped my writing or grammar skills at all, but I did it. I got it written, I posted it, I got it published, and I even sold a few of the damn things. Hell, I'd even come up with the cover art myself, even though that was almost as torturous as writing the story.
And, as I watched Gary shut his door, that book told the whole world a hell of a lot more about me, than part of me was remotely comfortable with. The bevy of online buddies who had helped me with my rusty grammar, assured me that I was reading way too much into it. That anyone would love the story. It was just fiction, after all. On the other hand, I had poured feelings I had kept bottled up for decades into those pages. My heart and soul were between those covers.
I just gotten cleaned up from work the next day, when Gary showed up at my front door.
“Hey CJ. I thought, since you had me over for dinner last night, I could return the favor tonight.” My friend said, firmly.
“Hmmm… Sure,” I stuttered my uncertainty and self-doubt.
Not taking a chance on me backing out, he walked me over to his place for dinner.
The aroma from entering his front door gave me the impression he had been cooking all day. While Gary could grill up some truly delicious steaks, the truth was he was just one hell of a cook.
Dinner was beyond belief, for he had gone all out. Spaghetti had never tasted so good. I suspected that it, in fact, had another, much fancier name, but my lack of knowledge about Italian food didn't do it justice.
Gary had even gone whole hog with a wine and dessert. I found myself blushing from the attention and was even a little worried that something sexual was being implied by it all.
Being unsure where all of this was going, I insisted on helping clean up. The dishwasher started its chugging, while both of us sat down at his kitchen table.
Taking a deep breath, Gary handed my book back to me. “I liked it. I was only going to glance at it last night, but ended up reading the whole thing. It is really good.”
I blushed again.
He asked, “You wrote this didn’t you? You’re Clarence, with a small ‘c’ isn’t you? You‘re a TG author.”
Hardly daring to nod, my head jerked. Swallowing hard, I took out my pen and opened the cover. “Who should I make this for?”
I learned what a deafening silence was, in that endless moment.
“Gloria” He answered.
I had to make my hand stop shaking so I could autograph the page
Leaving the cover open so the ink would not smear, I slid it back to Gary.
His eyes meeting mine, he sighed, “We’re a pair of silly bitches aren’t we?”
I could only agree. “Yes we are.”
We ended up finishing off that bottle of wine, and crying a few tears. Along the way we learned a little more about each other. Gary had cross-dressed nearly his entire life. He was happy to remain male, but enjoyed dressing and presenting as femme. Wisely, my friend had never torn himself apart internally over the matter.
Unlike me. I was, only now, recovering from the shambles I had made of my life. My writing, dear online friends and, of course, this friendship with Gloria had all pulled me from the black void I had been a footstep away from.
Now that we had pulled away our veils I hadn't a clue where to go from here. I did know that, being non-drinkers, that bottle of wine was enough to get the pair of us drunk. The hangover sucked.
That evening Gary was back in his old form, perhaps even more intense than ever before. “CJ,” He said grinning. “I think I’ve got this thing licked. It came to me last night. You ever heard of Quantum physics?”
Just knowing I was going to soon be way over my head I held two fingers an inch apart. “Just a little bit. I know it is very counter intuitive and drives most of you scientist fellas nuts trying to understand it.”
Wiping his greasy hands on a rag, he nodded, “You got it in one. It tries to describe what happens at the submicroscopic level. What I think I’ve got a handle on is, how to build a computer that operates at that level. If it works, that gives us the computing power we need to begin designing the evolving, ever smaller machines for our nanobots. Even better, she will be exactly what we need for our Queen Bee controller, for the nano swarm. ”
I blinked trying to keep up with him. “You mean you think you can actually build a nanobot swarm? What about safeguards?” I asked, gesturing at his workshop, lab, garage. “We don’t exactly have clean rooms and all here.”
He looked around too, at the unlikely combination of computers, old car parts, and who knew what else. Scratching his head he replied, “You do have a point CJ.”
“Yeah and don’t forget about that weasel who stole your company. The greedy bastard would dearly love to have you do all the work and then use those damn fancy lawyers to steal it all.” I reminded him.
Then his eyes lit up as they fastened onto the old Plymouth that over the months was starting to look more like a car than a collection of parts. I swear I could see the light bulb light up over his head. “The car! We can use the car. It’s perfect!”
I looked over at the piebald, primer painted car that my friend had been hiding the fruits of his research within. That did not help me at figure out just how that was going to provide a safe environment for testing a dangerous new technology that, just like when Oppenheimer and friends had set off the Trinity Atomic Bomb, had the potential for ending the world.
So I couldn't be misunderstood, I carefully replied, “Huh?”
His enthusiasm bubbled over. “We’re already have compartments for hiding our project within it! All we have to do is just refine it some. Since my idea for the Quantum computer won’t need that much power, we can run it off the car’s generator. If it goes crazy, and tries to take over the world or something, the car crashes and, with no power, no more problem.
“If we get far enough along that we have actual nanobots, without the Queen Bee to give instructions they’ll be inactive. See? All the safety precautions we need!”
I rubbed my chin. “Except for the driver. Okay, I guess I can see it, but what did you mean about having nanobots? I thought this thing was just going to design them.”
Trying to talk with his hands, Gary was really excited. “If we add facilities like a small version of my 3D copier onboard, it can build its own set of tools for that first generation. Then the evolution process should happen very quickly. Say in the time of just a hour or two.”
Thinking about it, I pointed out, “You’ll have to take it to somewhere like the Bonneville Salt Flats, where they do speed runs. However, what do you do if some of the nanobots get loose while you’re testing this thing?”
He grinned at me. “That’s the beauty of it all. The Queen Bee gives its instructions by messenger service. Without the constant updates from her, they go inert.”
I gave him that much. “How about if this Queen of yours tries to design her own power supply, or set up some other kind of communications with the nanobots, since she will be doing all the designing by that stage anyways?”
Gary shook his head. “I believe the parameters will do much of that for us. I’ll also do all I can to program our girl to be nice, and not a crazed military designed, Artificial Intelligence that sees everyone as an enemy.”
I nodded vigorously. “We sure as hell don’t need a Skynet, or a Matrix. You really think it‘ll work?” I asked.
Putting his greasy rag aside, he put his hand on my shoulder. “Yes I do. I haven’t forgotten our first conversation about all of this. You will get the first shot at a nano makeover.”
Sighing, I returned his smile. “In that case I guess I better be the one to drive this thing, once we haul it out to the salt flats. I’m not much of a race car driver, but I do better than you. I’ve ridden with you, remember?”
Gary put his arm around my shoulders. “I'm glad you volunteered!”
"Road Runner, if he catches you you're through.” Road Runner Theme - Barbara Cameron
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. A big thanks goes out to Cathy who proofed and generally made this readable. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
Cue music: “I learned a thing or two from ol' Charlie don't you know.” Copperhead Road — Steve Earl
Once we reached 300 mph, I let us cruise. Unless the Smokies managed to stop us, we were only a hour away from our turn off. Now, I wasn’t exactly sure how the hell I was going to slip away from 3 or 4 States worth of Highway Patrolmen that wanted to nail my hide to the barn.
I didn't exactly have a choice here. The whole setup in the Superbird was programmed to only initiate at given velocities. It was all part of Gloria’s harebrained safety protocols, just in case we lost control of the experiment. At the Bonneville Salt Flats that wouldn't have proved a problem. Yeah, if something went wrong, and the AI or nanobots went out of control, our crash and burn should keep the rest of the world safe. Of course, we would be dead, but the rewards, if we succeeded, would be all of our dreams coming true.
My companion was simply giving me an amused look.
My eyes were on the HUD. A window marked Phase 3 blinked with a red wait indicator. The first parts of my friend’s plan had succeeded. Phase One: the creation of an honest to god Artificial Intelligence. My companion was the visual representative that mankind was no longer alone in the universe.
Phase Two: the development and evolution of a workable nanobot swarm, programmed to make improvements in the old Plymouth so she could reach the speeds that, even now, she was hurtling down the highway at 300 mph.
Suddenly I caught my breath, as the indicator blinked green, and the progress bar started tracking towards completion.
“Well, aren’t you going to finish telling me what happened to Gloria?” she asked.
I swallowed, “Not all that much more to tell. As you know, from hacking the police database, Gloria’s place was busted into again, but this time they took the computers in his workshop. Still the cops insisted it wasn’t anything other than a common robbery.
“We knew differently, but because of Gloria’s precautions they hadn't gotten a damn thing about you, the Queen Bee. Then they broke in that last time, and I guess they were desperate.”
My voice broke as I tried not to cry. “This time they made sure she was home. They killed her.”
Rather than her eyes losing focus, this time her head just cocked to one side as if she was listening to something.
“CJ,” She said, “You’ll want to hear this. I just intercepted this message.”
The speakers came to life. “That’s correct sergeant. Move all of our people out the way, but continue to keep the on-ramps closed. Homeland Security is running the show now. Don’t be surprised if you see military aircraft. I don’t have a clue how that damn thing got past the spikes, or over the roadblock, but it is about to be blown straight to hell!”
I took a deep breath, “Shit! I didn’t plan on that.”
Her phantom hand touched mine. “I’m tracking them now. A pair of F-16s carrying some serious ordinance. If one doesn’t work they are prepared to keep trying until something does.”
“Ain’t that special. Break the speed limit by a measly 230 miles a hour, run a few roadblocks and look what happens.” I cursed shakily.
Calmly she pointed out. “You are breaking the law.” Then, thinking about it, she amended, “Breaking a lot of laws.”
Remembering how poorly law enforcement had treated the death of my friend, I spat out. “Frakk ’em if they can’t take a joke.
She said, “I think I can juggle things so, by the time they are able to make their runs, we will be at our turn off.”
I swallowed again, trying not to show my apprehension. “That might make a good distraction for us to leave the road and get to our destination. That is, if they don’t just blow us to smithereens.”
Smiling she winked. “Oh I think we have a few more surprises for our boys in blue. However, we will have to step it up to make this work.
My eyes flashed back to the progress bar for Phase 3. “Are we going to have enough time for …”
Her curt nod cut me off. “Yes.” She paused, “I’ve read the description for Phase 3. Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?”
My fear went away, replaced by a cold calmness. The icy certainty that had made me begin all of this to start with. “Just make sure I can deal with anyone who might want to keep me from visiting Gloria’s ex-partner.” Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, “Let‘s do it!”
Cue music: “And happiness I've known proves that it's right, because you're mine, I walk the line.” I Walk the Line — Johnny Cash
It got to the point where I was taking yet another shower a day. One to clean up from work, and another to wash off the grease and dirt from helping Gloria with the Superbird. There is a story there too. I came over to help one day and found her, rather than Gary. The problem was, she really wasn’t dressed for the part. I think what happened was she had not intended coming out to the workshop dressed, but had gotten one of her ideas that she just had to write down before it got away.
Without batting an eye I tossed her a pair of coveralls, and got to work. Startled, she caught them, but then just gave me a smile and climbed into them.
If I thought my genius friend was firing on all cylinders before, I found out differently. Working en femme, she was always so many steps ahead of me, I could not even count ’em.
Even my writing took off, although I had far less time to devote to it than before. I got another book ready for publishing, and Gloria convinced me to find an agent to try and sell this one to one of the big boys with national distribution.
The car was coming together so fast now it was like watching a time lapse video. Gloria, trying to make the restoration look authentic and hide what we were really up to, came with some really ingenious stuff. Somehow she had found an old, original Fuzzbuster radar detector.
Of course it did not work, but she hid a state of art Heads Up Display within the vintage, oversized black-box. HUDs were designed for fighter jet’s cockpits to project all the information a pilot needed to know on the windshield, without making him look down at his instruments. That way his attention would stay where it needed to be, seeing what was going on around him.
Gloria, knowing we would need to be monitoring upteenmillion different things when we made our high speed experimental run, set the HUD projection system to act like a multi-function screen, displaying all the computer information right onto the windshield. She had even set up the Roadrunner emblem horn cover like a laptop’s touch-pad, so the driver could access information without her hands moving from the wheel.
The next cute gadget she added had me nearly rolling on the floor when she showed.
“Gloria, that’s an 8-track! Where did you ever find one of those still working?”
She gave a grin. “I didn’t. There are tons of these broken things. I took the casings and did a bit refurnishing.”
I asked, “Just how much refurnishing?”
She showed me the dashboard she had set on her workbench. “I might be breaking the rules as far as the Authenticity Restoration Nazi’s are concerned, but I am keeping to the spirit. Everything, including even the HUD projector, looks just like equipment that is period for our Lady.”
“The 8-track player is the input device for the Quantum computer hidden inside the dash. Each tape cartridge is concealing a 2 Terabyte digital hard drive. Since I had to replace all my computer equipment anyway, my buying a lot of high tech stuff won’t seem out the ordinary.”
“You want tunes? We can put every piece of music we both have on one these babies and still have room left over!” She laughed.
Now that almost lead to our first real fight. I might be a little confused about that whole boy/girl thing, but I did like my country music. Johnny Cash, Jerry Reed, and even a bit of Rockabilly was what I listened too. Gloria on the other hand was a Rock’nRoll girl. Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, and other 60’s Oldies.
That night over dinner, we hashed it out. Her hard drive from hell could damn near hold several music stores worth of tunes. Taking turns, we decided what would make the perfect soundtrack for our harebrained experiment. She got to pick first, deciding on “Little Old Lady from Pasadena.”
Laughing, I raised the stakes by picking the theme to the old Roadrunner cartoon.
Gloria got into the fun of it with the Beach Boys “Fun, Fun, Fun!”
We got into another tiff, when I suggested, “Copperhead Road” by Steve Earl. She bought up that it certainly wasn’t period music. I got the giggles asking, if we were going go all period, what were we going to be wearing?
That got her thinking again, but we batted around a lot of good music and laughed at each other’s silliness. However we did end up with a very unusual collection of tunes, and admitted we were both really excited to get the Plymouth to Bonneville.
The next day, Gloria was all eager to show me something she had come up with on her computer. It looked like some kind of racing suit
She hit a key, and the animation showed the suit becoming slimmer and adjusting to, presumably, the wearer, changing dimensions in a matter of seconds. “So what do you think?” She asked.
I scratched my balding head. “I don’t know. You’re really intending we test the transforming abilities of the Queen Bee out in Bonneville? I knew we were going to try and kick-start the AI and test out the nano-swarm. However, refitting a car with nanobots is a whole lot different than rebuilding a human.
“You’re essentially tearing your subject apart and putting them back together. Not only does that sound more than a little painful, but we have no guarantee that the Queen Bee will be able to put Humpty Dumpy back together again. Look how long it took for the Human Genome to be mapped. Done wrong, if it doesn’t kill us, we could be crippled for life with any number of real serious conditions.”
Gloria listened as I laid out my concerns, but replied, “You have some good points, but here we go. First, this will be the 3rd and last Phase of the experiment. Unlike the others, this one will go though multiple simulations to make sure it can actually work. Only then will the program be accessible for use, and then only if we give our express permission.”
“Next, if the AI evolves as fast as I expect, working out our new bodies’ designs and the reconstruction procedure will be child’s play. That is why the suits.
“I started with a Super-Fabric brand motorcycle suit, made of d3o impact material, but that did not meet our needs. I altered it so it would be more comfortable and flexible for driving, plus I included intakes, so if the nanobots need more raw materials for the transformation, it would be available. There is also plumbing hookups, like jet pilots use, given we might be stuck in these things for a while.”
“The only real problem is that these are the one thing I can’t do out here in the workshop. I had to place a custom order with Super-Fabric. However, nothing in the design should tell anyone what we’re up to. In fact the people at Super-Fabric liked its so much, they’re talking about a deal to make the racing suit a part of their product line up.”
Standing there, realizing that each of our impossible dreams not only could come true, but would become reality in only a few months, had me trembling like a small child.
My friend put a hand on my shoulder. “I know CJ. I know. Only a little longer,” she said, smiling.
When our suits arrived, I saw immediately that they were going to be the one thing that wasn't shooting for authenticity. Instead of the coverall fireproof ones I was familiar with from NASCAR, these had more in common with those hi-tech swimsuits that made such a difference at the last Olympic Games.
While not as formfitting as those, they were damn snug! That was because they had to shrink with us as, hopefully, we changed from bear-like middle aged males with hairy backs into svelte sleek feminine ideals.
Unable to resist the temptation, instead of the regular slew of car product patches such suits usually sported, my friend had substituted some of her own. Each one had a Sci-fi theme or some tongue in cheek meaning, only fans like us would get. My favorite was the CAT Fusion Power patch from that “Aliens” movie although I saw Gloria had made sure a Brown-Coat triangle from “Serenity” had a place of honor.
She knew that, if everything went to hell in a hand-basket, they would be pulling us from the wreckage. That is why the suits used state of the art, impact resisting materials like D3o. Like the nifty armor out of the Sci-fi we both loved, it was soft and pliable unless a sudden blow struck it. Then it would stiffen absorbing the energy while protecting the wearer. With the fireproofing these suits gave us our best chance to survive that worse case scenario.
Being prototypes, she insisted we test out everything, from the fit, to those damn plumbing connections. It was beyond me how she got all the functions in one suit, but however she did it, it certainly impressed the people at Super-Fabric.
Too much Talcum powder later, I got my fat butt into the damn thing. I quickly learned an important safety tip. It wasn't just a good idea to get rid of all of that body hair first, it was a great one, because if you don't, Ouch!
Once I finally, with a great struggle, pulled it on, Gloria got me good. With all the golly gee whiz stuff, they made serviceable, G-suits. They compressed various areas of the body to help keep the wearer conscious while they were being thrown about hard enough to knock you out cold. That also meant that, using the same controls, she could mold a body's contours even without the use of nanos.
When that damn thing, tightened around me, I yipped like I'd been bit. The damn waist shrunk like I was wearing a corset, and I had enough man boobs to be pushed up into convincing cleavage.
Grasping for breath, I wheezed, “Gloria! Ack! Help!”
When she burst out laughing, I figured out what was going on. For a while now she'd been gently pushing me to show her my feminine alter-ego. I steadfastly refused, because I looked liked a man in dress. Since that was definitely not what I wanted to see, I didn't go there.
As soon as I managed to get the hang of breathing, with this thing squeezing my waist, I conceded that, with it on, I had a reasonably feminine figure, if a bit more matronly than I cared for. Of course the suit was bulky enough that it was impractical to wear anything nice over it, but this was a taste of things to come.
I was about to jokingly say something, when I looked into her eyes. We had both come so far in dealing with our unique differences. What I saw told me that, despite the progress we'd made, there were still things unsaid between us.
My suit suddenly released me, as my tears fell. We huddled there together, not daring to speak.
“We are a pair of silly bitches aren't we?” I whispered.
Gloria nodded, “Yes, we are. Let's go finish our Lady.”
From that moment on we both worked like the Devil himself was snapping at our heels. After countless hours of attention to every last detail, due to the simple fact that our very lives and future hung in the balance, Gloria finally announced that we were finished.
She made one of her, ever rarer, appearances as Gary, to show off our Lady to the neighbors. We made a party of it, as I fired up that 426 Hemi. Unlike most big motors, she purred at idle like the biggest, most satisfied cat you ever heard.
I think that was the happiest day either one of us had in a very long time.
The next day at work, I put in for vacation for our trip to Bonneville.
I was the one to find her. She had been duct taped to a chair. Despite knowing otherwise, I had to see if she was still alive. My heart tore itself apart as I touched her cooling flesh.
I wept.
How much time passed I don’t know, but I regained my senses enough to call the police. I could not remove her from the chair without disrupting evidence and making myself a suspect. I know I wasn't thinking clearly, but if I had known what the result was of her being found dressed, I would've done it anyways.
Despite clear signs she had been tortured to death, the police refused to take my friend’s death seriously. Right there in front of me, a few of them made rude jokes, and talked about how this brilliant person deserved such a horrible death, because of her clothes.
That’s when I finally caught on that, somewhere, the police had to be covering this up. I had no idea who in the department was doing it, but this was just too much of a coincidence. Not one, but two different robberies, and now a murder, and still they ignored it.
Maybe I’m paranoid, but that was too damn much for me.
Only a handful showed up at the funeral, but even though I had not ever seen a picture of him, I knew the man who showed up in the dark SUV with the bodyguards.
In my heart, I named him; betrayer, thief, murderer.
We didn't speak, but the alertness of his guards told me he knew exactly what I thought of him.
Gloria, in her careful way, had prepared for the chance that, if somehow our experiment went amiss, and she was killed, all she had left went to me in her will. I wasn’t surprised to find that, somehow, no copy of it was to be found. Everything was to go to, you guessed it, the partner.
Forlorn, and lost beyond words, I sat by the grill where my friend and I had shared so many good times. I watched the bastard’s goons go though my friend’s house searching for her secrets, but never once checked the car.
I watched them drive away, but knew that sooner or later that would change. They would be back, and a gift that Gloria had meant, not just for me, but for the whole world, would be lost to that evil, conniving sonofabitch.
Sometime during that lonely night’s vigil, I made my decision. This was not over. Looking at the time, I saw that it was late enough that the super slab should be mostly empty. Picking up a crowbar from my toolbox, I snapped the lock they had placed on the workshop garage door. I knew they had reset the alarm, but I was going to be gone in five minutes.
Excited about our trip, Gloria had given me my own set of keys to the Superbird, and packed away our suits in the trunk. Tossing the suit in the passenger seat, I fired up our Lady.
A few minutes later I was at the corner gas station filling up the tank. Preparing to have the Roadrunner shipped to Bonneville, we had kept the tank nearly empty. Taking the suit with me, I changed in the restroom.
The clerk gave a startled look as I stepped out in the sleek black suit that reshaped my aging body making me seem decades younger. I was on my way to meet destiny.
Standing next to the car, I saw the flashing lights of our corrupt police, flying down the road towards the triggered alarm. Too damn bad they hadn’t responded so quickly when Gloria had needed them.
I touched the Roadrunner emblem on the tall fin as I finished closing the gas cap. “What do you say? Let’s get some answers.”
Wheeling the Superbird onto the road I headed for the on ramp. I pushed in the 8-track tape. Soon the “Little Old Lady From Pasadena” sang from the speakers. On cue, as if I planned it, the “Roadrunner Theme” took its place as I merged the Plymouth onto the interstate.
Hitting the gas, the 426 Hemi growled, laying down rubber as we rocketed forward.
Cue music: “I looked in my mirror, a red light was blinkin'. The cops was after my Hot Rod Lincoln!” Hot Rod Lincoln — Charlie Ryan
“You can open your eyes now,” she told me.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
“Yes, all done.” She said back, with a smile in her voice.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it had not hurt at all. Looking down I saw mounds where there had been none, and a flat smoothness where middle age spread and testosterone had their way for far too long.
The Plymouth’s evolved seat and harness adjusted for the loss of mass, and my far different contours. My hands on the steering wheel were slimmer and looked so damn elegant, even in the gloves of my suit.
I had not even noticed how my voice had changed, but a glance at the HUD told me, in no uncertain terms, that now was not the time for more exploration.
Bracketed icons showed the two jets hunting us. I felt us surge forward even faster to get to where we could disappear when they attacked. 325, jumped to 350 mph as we blew by mile markers like they were telephone poles.
I had no idea what was now powering this constantly evolving Superbird Roadrunner, but I doubted it was the same 426 Hemi it had begin with when I left the house. For all I knew we had a Mr. Fusion under the hood now, since my companion had even redesigned me.
The HUD’s predictive graphs showed our expected point of collision, and it was coming up fast.
“So,” she asked, “I haven't a father and a mother, but two fathers, who were also my mothers?”
That kinda made my head hurt, thinking about it. “More like a mother all along, that everyone wanted to believe was a father, but if you want to consider me one of your parents, I would be honored.”
Her bright smile, so like Gloria’s, answered. “I do. So Mom, why do I get the feeling that there is more to Mother Gloria‘s death than what you‘re saying?”
Sighing, I replied, while keeping an eye on the HUD display and the two jets, “It’s just too much of a coincidence that the local cops ignored everything that happened. It almost has to be a cover up and, despite my admitted paranoia, I’m convinced that Gloria’s ex-partner, and Paradigmatic, are involved. Additionally, She did say her ex-partner was making deals with some government agency about Black Programs. Who knows what any of them might do if desperate enough.
“The most damning piece of evidence is her will. I know she changed it and sent it to her lawyer. Now, no trace of it can be found, and I hold the only copy. The proof of the betrayal is, the will that was found left everything to her ex-partner.” I said, unable to keep my emotions in check.
“Maybe I’m wrong, but the answers, one way or the other, will be found there, at Paradigmatic.” I said, bracing myself for the fighter jet’s attack run.
“We will get our answers, Mom. I guess I should tell you my name now, all things considered. Do you think Mother Gloria would mind if I took her mother’s name of Emma?” She asked.
I replied with a tight throat, “I think she would have liked that.”
Her voice, all business, announced, “Entering attack range in 10.
Nine
Eight
Seven
Six
Five
Four
Three
Two
One
Zero, we have weapons’ release from lead aircraft. Stand by for impact!”
A brilliant flash caused the windshield to reflexively darken as we hit the brakes. Like a porcupine flexing its spines, all the Plymouth's speed brake panels snapped out, trying to slow and control our insane maneuver.
It was now that I had a chance to see some of how Emma had improved me. First, I stayed aware of what was happening instead of being overwhelmed with all that going on in those scant, split seconds. Our tires were each independently steerable now, and all 4 grabbed for traction, like a cat's claws on a linoleum floor.
While before, the aero-control surfaces of the Superbird had allowed us to briefly soar, now they forced us down onto the road surface, fighting the forces that threatened to spin us out of control.
Those same forces slammed me brutally against my racing harness. The G-Forces should have left me unable to lift an arm, but instead I guided our Plymouth down the path Emma had outlined on the HUD, like a spacecraft burning in for re-entry.
Letting out a shaky breath, it was over.
She had found a hole. We had left the interstate though, but wouldn't we be followed? I wondered. Checking the rear and exterior views, I got my answer.
Rising high into the dawn sky, a huge mushroom cloud of fire grew behind us.
Knowing that, while Homeland Security might not be the sharpest spoons in the drawer, but surely they would not be dropping nukes on speeders. That left only one person.
“Emma!” I asked, “What did you do?”
She grinned, “We needed everyone chasing us to be busy looking elsewhere. I set off a small, Electro-Magnetic-Pulse, and superheated a little air, along with infusing some of our onboard fuel with nano-particles for extra energy, pumping up the explosive power of that missile they fired at us. Think of a super efficient, fuel-air explosion, with some garnishing.
“Believing it’s a nuke, exactly like you did, they won’t be looking anywhere at all, but at that big black spot back there.” Emma explained.
Plaintively I replied, “EMP is a product of a nuclear reaction. Please tell me you didn’t set off a nuke back there.”
Crossing her arms, she glared at me. “Maybe you need a nuclear device for EMP. I don’t.”
Sighing, I decided it was me who was overreacting. “It’s alright, but you scared me. I might be Looney Toons nuts with this stunt, but I have no intentions of harming anyone.”
Thinking about it, I amended my words. “With the possible exception of a certain suit at Paradigmatic.” I said, pointing at the blinking destination on the HUD.
Then I blinked again, doing a double take. Our external view showed a far different looking car from the Superbird I had climbed into with a few hours ago. It resembled one of those supercars by Lamborghini, or Maserati, rather than a vintage American muscle car.
Winking, she held up a finger to her lips. “Sssh, we’re in disguise.”
I couldn’t help myself. Giggling I asked, “Are we hunting rabbits?”
Still playful, but a glint of steel touched her eyes, “No, We’re hunting weasels.”
My own humor left me. The horrible events of the past few weeks washed over me, followed by practical fatalism. “I guess we’ll need to hole up somewhere for that Weasel to come out of his hole. It is still on the early side of the morning.”
Emma shook her head. “Nope. I took care of that. Tapping into the phone system, I sent him a false message to get him to the lab early. His cell phone GPS indicated he was there before I set off my little surprise. This is the perfect time to take care of this, once and for all. Local communications are out and all law enforcement personnel are busy with our diversion.
I nodded, “Let’s do this.”
After our thundering run down the super slab, the 40mph down the drive to Paradigmatic seemed like we were crawling. I could see, on our approach, that their security was well aware of events up the road. They were alert and moderately prepared, keeping to the motto of ‘just in case.’ However, unknown to them, their boss was about to reap the whirlwind.
Four guards were at the gatehouse, and all wore tactical vests as well as carrying short, ugly, high-capacity sub-machine guns.
As we slowly pulled up to the gate, Emma gestured at my new chest, making a zipping motion. Despite my stress levels, that got a laugh from me. All of this was way outside of my usual comfort zone. I am a peaceable person at heart. However the Furies in my heart pushed me onward, hungry for Justice.
Coldly, I unzipped the racing suit that, along with everything else, had been altered by Emma, the nano-swarm’s Queen Bee. A shiver went though me as I revealed feminine cleavage. Not silicon forms, or some other illusion, but flesh and blood, me.
Stopping at the gate, three of the men covered the one who motioned us to roll the window down. Remembering an actress in an cross-country racing movie who used her assets to her advantage, I took a deep breath, arching my back.
The look on his face was priceless, but he still managed to say, “This is an restricted area ma’am.”
Forcing myself to smile, I wondered what to do next. “Excuse me, but I think we’re lost. Something has the highway all blocked off, and we got detoured this way. This GPS thingie doesn’t seem to be working either. Can you direct me to the best way to get to Charlotte?” I asked.
The other three guards crowded in to get a better look at the two honeys in the fast looking car. That was their undoing, as a handful of ball lightning flashed pass me.
Armored vests or not, they were all down, doing the Taser shuffle. Shocked, I looked back at Emma who had what looked to be a timing gun in her hand.
A standard piece of the mechanics tool kit, the gun is used to adjust an engine’s timing so the spark will ignite the air-fuel mixture in the combustion chamber, during the compression stroke. It is not used to zap guys like something out of Star Trek!
She hopped lithely out of her open window, just like in that old TV show, sliding across the hood in her hurry to open the gate. Hitting the controls, she jumped back in before it had finished opening.
I gunned the engine, and we were off. Once again our path was laid out on the HUD. However I had some questions!
“What the hell was that?” I asked screeching around a turn.
Holding up the gun, she smiled. “Oh this is just something I thought you would need. It has three settings; a stun, a knock them out, and lastly my favorite, a blow holes in things.”
Braking hard to a stop in front of our objective, I exclaimed, “You know that’s not what I’m talking about! Since when do you have a solid body! I thought you were a hologram.”
She tossed me the gun, “I was, but I got better! You run down the Weasel, and I’ll check out that sealed off computer network. If there is anything incriminating it should be there.”
Seeing me hesitate, she assured me, “Don’t worry, your suit is proof against anything they’re toting, and believe me Mom, you can kick butt and take names.”
Slipping out of the Plymouth, I found myself gliding with a smooth grace. The glass front to the building, revealed a woman it took me a double-take to recognize.
My racing suit looked liked something from a spy movie rather than a racetrack. But it was the unmistakable feminine figure it cut that made me catch my breath. Emma had made sure my new athletic and trim figure had no lack of curves.
Resisting the urge to whip off my helmet to see the rest of my makeover, I made myself get back to business. With all these guys running around with guns, it was no time to remove any form of protection.
The pistol’s controls were simple. Reaching the doors, I found that they were locked, with the security grate down. Pushing the red button, I pulled the trigger. The ball lightning blew a hole in it as big as a basketball with a crackle, Boom!
Holding it down, another crack Boom, had a slagged opening wide enough for the new, slender me to slip though. A line of ragged dents exploded near me, but faster than I could think, I had the orange button down and a handful of ball lightning flying back at the guards, shooting at me from behind the wide information desk in the lobby.
Like something from the Matrix, I saw a red circle about each person shooting at me. As soon as I had the gun lined up on one it turned green. Firing at each, in an eye blink they were twitching and unconscious.
More of Emma’s improvements I guessed. A glance at a fire evacuation diagram at the desk showed me where to go. At this time in the morning most of the workers had yet to make it in, as well as my little speed run had slowed up any early birds.
However, the executive offices were clearly marked, and I ran lightly down the carpeted hallway. I wondered how many shots my blaster had left in it as I skittered around a corner. Maybe it wasn't elegant, but it certainly wasn't clumsy or random because it sure did the job.
A second later a hammer blow spun me in a circle that I let carry me behind a receptionist desk. Quicksilver fast, I rolled to my feet and zapped the imposing sized guy that shot me.
As he twitched on the floor, I touched my wound, but found my suit and me unharmed. I might have a bruise there, but no holes. Gingerly, I checked the door, receiving a salvo of bullets from within. Okie Dokie, red button it is, as I blew the thick, wooden door to toothpicks.
Getting used to this new improved me, I green buttoned the two remaining bodyguards. Easily rolling back to my feet, I walked to the source of my pain.
His name was everywhere. The numerous pictures and awards of his brag wall all proclaimed his greatness. Behind his huge expensive desk, he cowered. Even now I could not bring myself to say his name.
“Who are you? What do you want?” He demanded, trying to recover his bluster.
Keeping my finger away from the red button, I asked, “Why did you have Gary killed?”
Like a snake, his eyes instantly veiled themselves. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? He was killed in a botched robbery. My old partner was my best friend. We only parted due to a difference of opinion over business.”
I could see his eyes darting over me, trying to identify me.
Grimly, I asked the air, “Emma, can you verify that claim.”
“No I can’t,” her voice spoke behind me as she stepped into the room. In one hand she carried a laptop, as she strutted past the ruined door.
“Unfortunately, your paranoia was dead on the money. Without Gary as the driving force behind their research and development, Paradigmatic couldn’t deliver on their promises. He had these fellows break into Gary’s house and bug it. When Gary built that improved 3D copier to restore that car, Mr. Executive thought our friend had made a breakthrough. Desperate, because of his deal with the Devil, he ordered another burglary, but found nothing.
“The high-tech purchases Gary made to replace his stolen computers, were the final straw.” She pointed a finger at the fearful, sweating man.
“You can’t know that!” The Weasel claimed. “That’s all conjecture, and will never hold up in court.”
Emma patted the laptop. “I disagree. It is all here. I found Gary’s designs in your system, as well as other material that he hid his data signatures within. The dates in those link Paradigmatic with the earlier thefts.”
Trying to bluff, and with a nasty smile, he replied, “This facility is doing research for the Department of Defense. Breaking in here is a federal crime, and you can’t have broken into our network because it has the best computer security available. You’re trying to make me give a confession under duress.”
I sighed, my thumb involuntarily moving towards that red button. “Are you sure?” I asked her.
Emma nodded, “I even found the message that they,” she said pointing at the unconscious goons,” sent Gary’s lawyer, blackmailing him into losing the revised will. Seems like they don’t trust Mr. Executive here either. Can’t say I blame them.”
Then softy she touched me on my shoulder. “Don’t shoot, Mom. We have other options open to us.” She said making me remember just what she could do.
Hoarsely I asked, “What do you suggest?”
His fear returned three fold as he saw my eyes.
She spoke, “I can’t say. You’re the one who began this. Just don’t kill him. Surely you can think of something else.
I gave an ugly laugh. I was a transgender fiction writer. Some of the stuff I had read over the years would curl most people’s hair. What I could come up with in my current state of mind scared even me.
The Weasel cringed, “Don’t kill me! I have money.”
Ignoring him, I pictured a two dollar crack whore, living from trick to trick. Looking around I imagined all those men around me, who I was told was directly responsible for Gloria’s death, with their dignity, bodies and very identity ripped from them.
Within my very soul, the fires of my rage burned hotter and purer than Hell itself. Somehow I turned from taking that final step into damnation. I had sworn I would never wish the torment I had felt every single day of my life on any living creature, never dreaming that one day I would be able to do just that.
I whispered drained of energy, “Are you familiar with Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder?”
Emma nodded, “Yes. I can replicate its effect.”
“Then,” I pronounced their sentence, “Let them have a compulsion to tell the truth. Every last nasty detail of all the wrongs they have done. More, let it take over their lives to tell all who will listen. They will provide the very evidence needed to prove their own damning words.
“If they have any loved ones, then they’ll have a chance to try and make things right for them before the end comes for them. I doubt it will take long. People like the ones they have sold their souls to, like keeping their secrets.”
Emma bowed her head, “A hard ruling, but their justice will come from their own mouths.”
Then her lips quirked in a grim smile. “So it is said, so it is done!”
I did not see what happened next, for I walked out. It was done. I had my justice, but my friend still laid in the cold earth, dead. Passing the unconscious bodies, I walked to the car, unsurprised to see that Emma had somehow beaten me out.
I slipped into the passengers seat, exhausted in mind and soul. As we drove away, my sorrow overcame me, and my tears fell like rain.
One year later.
I stood by her grave, in a dress of emerald green. My heels were black, and complimented the rest of my outfit. I'd taken hours getting ready. My appearance had to be flawless, for her.
Softy I began speaking, “Gloria, I can’t tell you how much I still miss you, and the void where you should be hurts so damn much. But I’m not here to tell you that. I’m sure you know. You always were the smart one.
“I want to tell you about our daughter, Emma, and of how it seems each day she has something new to show me. We have done what we can to stop the damage we humans have done to the Earth.”
Laughing I explained how our daughter had Gloria’s sense of humor, “The minx started leaving those old, Kilroy was here, ‘calling cards’ behind wherever we fixed something. Additionally, she has been driving some of your old fellow eggheads nuts leaving them notes educating them on where they went wrong. Not just the established ones either. Some of the world’s brightest youngsters are on her email list too.”
“She says that handing knowledge to them on a silver platter won’t help them learn. Besides, they may come up with something different even better.”
“Me? I’ve gone back to school under a new identity. With Emma’s improvements to yours truly, the course work is a breeze, even with her constant complaints the textbooks are all wrong. However, I’m earning all the credentials I need to reach for my dreams of flying beyond planet Earth to the stars.”
I gave a bitter laugh, “My harebrained stunt of charging down the road got billed as a failed terrorist attack. An attempt to nuke DC, or so they claimed, although they never explained just what happened to the radiation that should have been there. Just plain, ordinary, bad science and ass-covering.”
“As for Paradigmatic, it got bought out after the former owner committed suicide. As far as I can tell, all those bodyguards went the same way. I asked Emma about that, but she just shook her head, no. Like I told him, the people he dealt with like their secrets.”
I paused, “Gloria I don’t know if I did right or not. I did what I did, so now I have to live with it.”
“That old car of yours, that started all of this, is sitting in a museum, where I donated it. Of course Emma took all the special stuff out of it, but it is there, restored to better than brand new, just like you wanted.”
No more words would come. “Good bye my friend. I love and miss you with all my heart.”
Turning, I wiped my tears, as Emma put her arms around my shoulders. Slowly, we made our way out of that garden of stones, as the sun rose on a new day.
Author's postscript: The genesis of this story has its roots way back in the 70's when I first began telling tales to myself to ease my discomfort with wish fulfillment.
First let me say I do not advocate breaking the law or driving recklessly. In those days, the speed limit had just been lowered to a mandatory 55 mph, and a great many people weren't very happy with the change. Songs about it from “I can't drive 55” to “Convoy” told about folks' discontent. Movies such as “Smokey and the Bandit” were very popular because of it.
This was the era in which I grew up. It was inevitably that such would make their way into my stories. This one has changed and refined itself over time, but this is my very first TG story written long ago in a land that is far different now.
I have changed from that confused youngster dreaming of barreling down the highway at insane velocities towards an unknown destiny. It was to have been my entry into the Summer Romance Contest, but once again Fate intervened, with the passing of our dear pet half Rottie-Lab Delta. It took time but I did finish even if a little late. In the doing, it took on a much sadder tone than I intended as well as a lot longer.
In the end it is up to you the reader to decide just what kind of story this is. Lost love?, revenge?, or just wish fulfillment?
Grover
(Jacqui with an i)
What price would you pay? Sacrifices
By Grover 08/29/09 |
I had trouble believing my eyes. The day started off strange enough when I spied The Main Man himself dressed in a suit and tie for Gawd‘s sake. I’d never seen him in anything but muscle shirts and jeans with the exception of his supersuit.
Oh yeah, introductions. I’m called Fix’it. I’m the newest member of the Charlotte Wasps the local super team. As you can guess I like to build and fix things, but I don’t do badly as a home grown ninja either if I do say so myself.
Enough about me, I was talking about the Big Guy, the one the press calls The Duke. Where to start? He was huge in the way brick strongmen tends to be. His bio says 7 feet, but it’s really nearer 6 feet ten. His massive muscled body looked like something out of an artist’s human perfection study.
The Man had the hero look down cold, the steely gray eyes, square chin and a full head of dark hair. If he looked like a breathing cliché, his personality was just as over the top.
He was infamous for his smoking, drinking, and hard partying. His trademark noxious cigars and tolerance to alcohol were a local legend. More macho than macho and then some, that was the Duke.
The Duke you see had one of those deals going on that he would heal up stuff almost as fast as he got hurt. That kept him healthier than a whole herd of horses despite his lifestyle. Add his bench pressing locomotives super strength to that healing, and you had one tough SOB with an attitude to match.
After he left out on this crisp Carolina Tar Heel morning, I just had to ask my teammates what in the world was going on. I mean, here he is all dressed up before noon and hadn’t said a word to anyone. No cussing, or bragging about the night’s conquests made me wonder if he was the same man.
Steel Magnolia, our leader, took me aside. “This happens about four times a year. He’ll get himself really hammered tonight. We’ll need to pick him up in few hours. Just take my advice and leave him alone.”
My poor mind boggled. How could his drunken debaucheries get any worse? I simply couldn’t help myself. I had to see this. Making excuses, I headed out, knowing I wasn’t fooling anyone, but no one tried to stop me.
The Duke’s oversized CXT pickup truck was easy to follow. Basically a dump truck with a pickup bed the bright red vehicle stood out like a sore thumb. Of course he was a big guy and needed the leg room, but I think it was just more plain ego.
Stopping at a florist, he picked up that armload of flowers. Then it was straight to Green Hills cemetery. I wondered if it was his parents, but that didn’t fit the drunken blowout I was told was coming. Curious, I used my holo-generator to try to get closer and take a look at that headstone.
Disguised as a grounds keeper I thought I was doing pretty good.
“Hey kid,” He said in his deep gravel voice. “Stop the bullshit. I know it’s you. You really don‘t want to get me mad today.”
I clicked off my gadget expecting him to cuss me out like he’d done before when I screwed up. However, today he said nothing. The Man just stood there with his head bowed.
Looking at the headstone it read,
Okay that didn’t clear up anything. I had to ask, “Who was she?”
For a moment I was afraid I was going to get pounded, but instead I saw a tear roll down his cheek.
His rough voice breaking he replied, “Me. I’m Amanda.”
“I’m going to tell you a story, and if I ever hear it repeated I’ll turn you into a greasy smear. You got me?”
Shocked I nodded.
He sighed, “Growing up, I was a tomboy. Never liked any of those things girls were supposed to go for. I always hanged with the guys and never had a moments regrets. Then I had to grow up. I hated every moment of it. Breasts, hips and I’m not even going to say how nasty periods were. I later found out that I was what was called a Transman.
“While transsexuals are usually thought of as women trapped in a man’s body, I was the other way around. I was a man stuck as a woman. Maybe I would have gone for the transition and surgery route, but fate dealt me a wild card.
“I was also a mutant. By accident I found I could take over someone else’s body, but only for a limited time. Hating my own, I couldn’t resist taking some of the jocks at school out for a test drive. ”
The Big Guy shook his head again. “I was young and stupid. It wasn’t long before I called attention to myself. Fearing I would be caught, I ran away from home. I learned early on, that after a shift, my own body stayed unconscious unless I woke it, but if I did the shift could last indefinitely. However, then they or I could end the body switch at anytime. My thought was I could find someone who wanted to change bodies and that way we would both be happy.
“That proved harder than I thought. All those who were willing to try weren’t the most masculine guys in the world, and honestly I wasn’t very feminine either. Neither one of those things helped very much.”
“It was much easier to just grab a body and have some fun at their expense. With me being a runaway, I had no money anyways so it didn’t take long for me to fall into a rut with stealing too.”
“People preach to me all the time about addictions and my bad habits.” He gave a bitter laugh, “I know more about obsessions and cravings than they every will. Only the biggest studs would do. Football players, wrestlers, or just about anyone who had money and muscles.”
“By the time they caught me, I was already having bad headaches and having problems shifting because of the pain. I got the book thrown at me because I used my powers to steal even though I had never physically hurt anyone. Embarrass and abuse, yes hurt no. They figured out I had to see my target to shift bodies with them and so I ended up blindfolded most of the time.”
“ULTIMATE didn’t bother to play their usual games after they learned I was dying anyways. Overusing my power, and the weird way my brains were put together led to the growth of tumors. My defense attorney pleaded, based on the testimony of the Telepaths that captured me that I was mentally unstable.
“With the knowledge that whoever gained custody and jurisdiction of me would have outrageous medical expenses to deal with, I became a hot potato no one wanted. It was no surprise I ended up in a piece of crap nut house.
He paused silent for a long moment. “That’s where Randy found me, sick and alone in the dark. I can still remember his words. ‘I want to help you, and I hope you’ll be able to help me. I’m a lot like you. I too am trapped in a body I can’t stand, but unlike you I can’t get out. My powers made me even more like what I despise. I can’t transition since I heal faster than the surgeon can cut. I want you to body switch with me.”
The Duke shook his head. “He had read about my case because of his superhero connections. It was so ironic because someone like him was exactly who I’d been looking for, but now it was too late.”
“I tried to tell him that. Even assuming they would let me try and shift us, it might not work or could even finish killing me. Worse, if it did work, he would be stranded in my dying body. Sure the doctors said the surgeries they had planned had a good chance of success, but that also meant they could fail. I might have only a year to live.”
He stopped again tears flowing down his face. “Randy told me, ‘I know the risks and accept them. You know how being like this is a terrible pain that never goes away. I tried to kill myself, but my power won’t let me. You are my only chance. I would rather live just one year as the woman I was meant to be, than a lifetime as a superman.”
The Big Guy smiled though his tears. “We had no choice but go the official route since I was regularly monitored by telepaths to make sure I didn’t body hop an escape. Oh the look on some of their faces at the thought of having me, a petty crook in Randy’s powerhouse of a body. However, he offered to take care of all the medical costs since it would now be her body they were operating on, and pointed out that if need be she could also end the transfer at anytime if I went out of control.”
“I think it was the money thing that decided the whole thing. It took weeks for all the details to be worked out, but he was very persuasive. When they took that blindfold off and I made our shift, I don’t think, I have ever seen such joy in anyone's face before in my life.”
Like I said I was never very feminine and being locked in a mental institution as well as ill had done nothing for that body’s looks. Despite that, Randy made my body beautiful. Her happiness made her beautiful. I know it sounds corny and perhaps even sick in a way, but I think I fell in love right there.
On the spot, I vowed I would make her life as happy as I could. Yeah, I was also watched like a hawk, but I really didn’t care. I had found something worth living for.
She had the surgeries and for a while things went well. We got to know each other and she became just as besotted with me as I was with her. Then Amanda got sick again. The tumors came back.”
Crying he went on, “It seemed the doctors were right after all. A year was all we had together. On the eve of the surgery, I asked, begged, her to let me shift us back. Sick and ill she was still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She refused saying, “You would let me have one year of happy memories with a lifetime of misery? No. I love you too you big dummy. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. If you love me, don’t take this from me. Let me go. Live your life to the fullest. Make what amends you need to for the wrongs you’ve done.
Her last words to me were ‘If I don’t wake up from this, I’ll see you on the other side.”
The Duke’s huge body shook with the power of his emotions. “She never woke up.”
We stood there for a while longer. The Big Man reached out and touched the headstone. “See you on the other side Amanda.”
The Duke stood and looked up at the sky as if questioning the very heavens. Turning to me and heaving a mighty sigh, The Duke growled. “I need a drink. You coming?”
When you have no other place to turn where will you find Sanctuary?
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. This is part of Cathy’s The Home That Love Built universe. Thanks for letting me play here for a while. Plus a big thanks because she proofed it too! Thanks Cathy! Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
I stood there in the rain as the taxi pulled away. The driver seemingly could not get away quick, or far enough, with the very last of my meager bankroll. During the entire trip from the bus station, he had kept shooting me glances, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Icy fingers touched me as the cold rain soaked though my worn clothing. I was well aware of how I looked. Mirrors had never been my friend, and perhaps that was more true now, than ever before. My dress and second hand coat looked so out of place on my stocky wide frame. A tear tracked down my cheek, lost in the falling drops from the sky, as I remembered those awful, hated words, “It’s a good thing you’re a guy, because you would make one ugly woman!”
Despite myself, I agreed with them, well almost. What woman has a 5 O’clock shadow by noon? Yet, where it truly mattered, I was a woman, and I had no choice but to wear what I did. It hurt too much to even think about the reasons why, because after so long, I was on my own again. Still, I had no way of packing up everything I wanted, needed, to take with me. Just one suitcase and a shoulder bag was all the bus would allow. Everything else, the collected things and momentos of a life no longer livable, had to be left behind.
Determined to restart my life the right way this time, I had taken every piece of feminine wear I had, with me, even if I had to wear it to my destination. Part of me curled up in fright, thinking of the hideous chance I had taken. I could have ended up anywhere along the way here, dead or badly hurt by those whose prejudices overcame what little compassion and tolerance they had in their souls.
Shivering, I turned, dragging my suitcase behind me, to the place that I had placed all my hopes and dreams on. Double or nothing, my very life was the stake. The whole way here had been foreshadowed by the dim gray light and cold downpour. However, now that I was here, I found myself frozen in place.
The building, half masked by the falling rain, had begun life as a motel, years before, but it didn’t show it’s age. The office had cheerful curtains hanging, and the brand new rainbow motif neon ‘Welcome’ sign was burning in the gloom.
The rainbow shaped sign had the brightly lit pastel neon letters mistily haloed in the rain Welcome, Home, and Love.
For decades I’d fought a lonely war that I’d been destined to lose from the very beginning. I had at last accepted that, no matter what any one else thought, I had always, emotionally, been a woman within my heart. My metaphysical insides were as devastated as any war torn battlefield, from my inner conflicts. Damage I had done to myself, trying to live up to others expectations.
Exhausted in mind, body and soul, I had, in the end, surrendered realizing that to continue this pointless torment would be my death. In choosing to live, I had lost everything.
My wife had kicked me out of the home we had both labored so hard and long for. The job where I had toiled, endlessly it seemed, had made it very clear that they could make do without my services. Even my few friends, although we had shared much together with the whole ‘though thick and thin’ deal, gave me the cold shoulder after I’d told them about my true self.
No amount of explanations, or pleas for understanding, had penetrated their determined ignorance. I was accused of lying to them and of breaking their trust. It weren’t they who were at fault. Oh no, it was me! As if it was I who had chosen to turn my back on them, and not the other way around.
Choice? There had been no choice. No one would ever choose this. There was simply no other alternative, this or death.
It wasn’t much of a surprise to me, the way everyone now shunned me. After all, I’d had nightmares about this very thing for years. I had hoped for something different. Some loving support and compassion would have been nice. Had I really been that good at pretending to be someone that had never really existed? Was revealing the face under the mask I had worn, that much of shock?
I had been at my wit’s end when Tess, one of my on-line friends, pointed me toward my sanctuary. Cathilynn had made the news big, a few months ago, when she had hit the jackpot, winning one of the biggest lotteries ever. The media had made a big deal about her being transsexual, but she had done us proud. Looking them in the eye, she had faced them with dignity. With ready wit, and humor, she had been the best spokesperson the TG community had in years. She had even appeared on a couple of talk shows, where she had talked about what she was going to do with all that money, but she always sneaked in just how badly, as a group, trans girls and boys are treated.
She wasn’t one of those girls who passed without a second look, or was beautiful. Catherine simply looked like a plain, everyday, ordinary woman. Compared to the over made up, almost clown-like girls that were usually seen, she gave us a human face. A confident, strong woman, who wanted the same things any other person did. She had talked about setting up a place for others like her. Somewhere girls could come to and sort themselves out, kind of like a cross between a retreat, and a half-way house.
Me and others had taken all of that with a bit of salt. Others had come into the community and, after they had achieved their dream, they had disappeared. I couldn’t blame them, because all any of us wanted was just the freedom, and the chance to be the person, the woman, we really were at heart.
Cathilynn had put her money where her mouth was. She had not only brought a place and had it rebuilt and furnished, but had put out feelers, by word of mouth, for those really in need. Referred by Tess, I had, despite misgivings, applied. In short order, I had found that this was no free lunch. Anyone accepted would be expected to work and give back as they were able.
Fighting depression, and myself, had not let me build a very good resume. I had always been good at organizing things from my old Army days, so I put that down. To my surprise, Cathilynn had immediately gotten back in touch with me, wanting to know when I could move in.
Her House was anything but close to me, but seeing how I was going to be on the street by the end of the week, it was the only choice I had. I told her I could be there in two days by bus.
The drizzling cold had started to run into my shoes and helped urge me forward. Part of me was scared out of my wits. If this didn’t work out I would have no where to go, no options, no hope. I knew I couldn’t afford to get sick, although I’d missed a meal or two, just to make sure I had money for the taxi fare.
Gathering my courage, I knocked on the door. No sooner had I lowered my hand when a woman with a warm, welcoming smile opened the door.
Her face had all the character that 60 some odd years could give her. Giving me a the once over with her blue eyes, her face turned serious as she took in my appearance. I could tell this was one woman who didn’t put up with any nonsense. “Are you Irene?” she asked.
At my hesitant nod, she yelled over her shoulder, “Sandra! Our new resident is here, and she’s soaking wet! Get some soup ready.”
She took me by the arm, helping me pull my suitcase out of the puddle it’d been floundering in. “You poor thing! Here, lets get you out of that coat,” She said warmly, but in a tone that booked no argument.
Despite my inner misgivings I couldn’t help returning her smile. I knew I was a mess inside, both in my heart and in my head.
Stripping off my wet coat she firmly ushered me to a chair in the comfortable, but well appointed office. She shook her head at me as she got a good look at how I was dressed. She gently scolded, “Child, do you have any idea of the risk you took traveling dressed like that? More courage than sense.”
I lifted my eyes to hers. “It wasn’t courage. I had no other choice. Maybe I never did, but I’m here now.” I said, with more defiance than I had intended.
Instead of anger I saw only compassion in her eyes. She pulled me into a hug that I was helpless to resist. No longer could I pretend it was the rain as my tears fell.
“You’ll do child, you’ll do. You’ve made it this far Irene, and I promise you we’ll be there for you as long as you try your best.”
I could only nod, as more tears fell but this time they were tears of helpless relief, that at long last I had found my Sanctuary.
Excerpt from the Diary of Irene Frances Smith
I was reading Tanya Allen's Monique and this came to me.
By
There’s a boy that leads a life of danger
To everyone he meets he is a stranger
With every move he makes another chance he takes
Odds are he won’t be a boy tomorrow
Secret Agent Girl, Secret Agent Girl
They’ve given you a formal gown and taken away your tux
(lead guitar)
Flying high in Zurich one day
And layin’ in a London alley next day
Oh no, you let the wrong word slip
While kissing the different lips
The odds are you won’t be boy tomorrow
Secret Agent Girl, Secret Agent Girl
They’ve given you a formal gown and taken away your tux.
For all of those who can Youtube here is a link to Johnny Rivers version of Secret Agent Man to help with the tune.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXGAif4dKhs&feature=related
Baby Joan has been diapered, and only have a few moments left to live, but who really has the last laugh?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to everyone out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing.
He could still focus his eyes, but his ability to speak had disappeared as his brain continued to regressed to the point where his speech centers were only shadows of an adults. At times he wondered if this was some kind of punishment from on-high. What had he done to deserve this? His being trapped in this small helpless body and the many indignities that had been heaped upon him.
Despite the clear plastic of the incubator he could see his daughter and wife looking at him. He had to keep from despair knowing what they were seeing. The man he'd been, the father, the husband was gone replaced by a small helpless child.
Although he'd kept his sense of self far long than he thought possible, the end was coming soon. Hoping they would remember the sign gesture, with great concentration he lifted his so small hand, keeping his middle two fingers closed in the American sign language short hand for I love you.
“I forgive you.” He mouthed as best he could, before exhaustion overcame his small body and sleep claimed him one last time. A smile was on his lips remembering the present he'd left for his 'best' friend. There were things that could not be forgiven.
“I'm sorry Mrs. Sloan.” The Doctor shook his head in disbelief what he'd witness these last few months. “He'd just regressed to a state where his body could no long sustain life even with mechanical assistance. Unlike the others, he simply got too concentrated an exposure.”
The woman turned away and left while the daugher just stood there as if trying to comprehend what had happened to her father.
“Daddy's gone.” Maggie cried to her mother.
“He's been gone for some time.” The older woman took a drag of her cigarette.
“You don't get it do you?” The young woman stared at her mother who because of second hand exposure from her father looked ten years younger than she once had just a few months ago.
“The man who carried me around on his shoulders.” Tears fell from her eyes. “Who rescued me from ants, bees, and spiders, he's gone. We buried him in a child's casket today.
“He didn't run off with a younger woman.” Scorn colored her voiced. “Or divorce you for cheating on him. He's dead!”
“The second that spill happened at the plant, he was dead.” Her mother took another drag, blowing the smoke into the air.
“Is that why you treated him like a little child?” Maggie's anger at herself made her even more bitter. “Is that why you encouraged me to do so too?”
“His last days alive and what did we do?” Her face was a mask of sorrow. “We humiliated him, by pretending he was the baby he appeared.”
“Maybe.” Her breath caught. “I had my disagreements with him about things I've done. Maybe, I resented his grounding me so often, but I loved him too.
“And what did he do in his last moments?” Maggie broke down crying again. “He told us he loved us. The ones who mistreated him so badly in his last days alive, we broke him down in tears!” She held up her hand in the 'I love you' gesture she'd learned to talk to her deaf grandmother.
“Ridiculous.” The older woman snorted, flicking ash off her smoke. “He'd lost any sense he had long before then.”
“I hope you're so very happy with your share of the insurance money.” Wiping her tears away, she had only disgust for the woman in front of her. “You won't be seeing me again. Daddy changed the beneficiaries to both us to make certain I had funds for any college I desired. I'm out of here.”
The door shut behind her.
Angrily she snubbed out her smoke. How dare Maggie speak to her that way! She so wanted to yell and scream in her husband's face because all of this was his fault, but of course she couldn't.
The smoldering ashtray was a reminder that she'd started smoking again just because he hated it. She'd quit after he'd wouldn't stop nagging her about it. He'd lost both of his parents to cancer, he'd argued. He'd didn't want to lose her too.
All this was impossible! Men do not turn suddenly into women, and sure as hell not into baby girls. However, that is exactly what happened.
If not for Ron, she might've gone crazy. She was a grown woman damn it, and she had needs. He was there for her when that sniveling little girl her husband had turned into could not satisfy her any longer.
She hung her head at how petty and small that sounded now. No matter their fights, she and John had always made up. Sure he had his hang ups like with the smoking, but for the most part he had his reasons. He'd given her a beautiful very intelligent daughter whom she'd alienated by being such a bitch.
Shaking her head in angry denial, her tears ran down her cheeks anyways. Alone she cried for the man she'd loved and in the end had dreadfully wronged.
Ron sighed at all the dramatics, doors slamming, and women crying all over the joint.
Going to John's bar, he poured himself a drink. He had to admit, the Whiz Kid stocked the good stuff. Settling down in the overstuffed recliner, there was nothing like enjoying the fruit of others labor.
Ron had long admitted, John was smarter and worked harder than he ever did. Those long hours, however, was why his 'friend' and Jennifer's relationship was so rocky. On the other hand, while those smarts and hard work had pushed John high into the company, Ron had risen as well by playing the politics and good old boy network.
It was what he was good at. The big boss was a golfer? Ron took lessons and talked to the man's caddies. The VP loved to fish? Guess who picked up a new hobby. The company's Whiz Kid inventor was a little socially inept? Want to wonder who got a new best friend?
It came up aces that the Geek had a gorgeous wife and a hot teenaged daughter to boot. Maybe he hadn't been able to use this crisis to get into her panties, but Mama MILF was more than a good enough consolation prize.
When serendipity dropped into his lap, Ron was there to take the reins. That bursting catalyst vat wasn't the disaster that so many at the company believed. It was the goose that laid the golden egg. John had gotten drenched and a half dozen others had also been exposed if not near as badly.
When all of them not only survived, but started growing in reverse, getting younger, it'd baffled the hell out of everyone. It'd taken John the Whiz Kid to ID the bacteria that'd impossibly been growing in the bottom of the tank. He'd christened it Soma-Ras-Bacteria for the Elixir of Life from the myths of India.
The chemicals in the vat should've killed them all, but that rainbow colored bacteria did stuff unknown to medical science. It healed and rejuvenated them. However, John not only grew younger, but lost his dick too.
Ron had to give it to him. John had figured out a way to stop the others from regressing as far as he did even if they did still end up slots. Still, he knew he wouldn't want to be a teenaged girl no matter how much younger that would've made him or how potentially long he could live.
However, he did know an opportunity when he saw it. It'd been him who'd pushed for John to be put on 'medical leave.' How would it look to the Occupational Safety and Health Administration Inspectors, OSHA, to have a kid who looked like she should be in junior high working with dangerous chemicals and compounds? After all they had been breathing down the company's neck ever since the accident.
It had worked. For John to come up with a cure was no part of Ron's plan. As a matter of fact, things had worked brilliantly. He'd comforted the grieving wife, who only needed some deft manipulation to see things his way. The hot daughter was still enough of a teen to be foolish and vengeful. It was child's play to egg them on to treat their former husband and father as a baby girl. That effectively ended any chance of the Whiz Kid pulling a miracle out of 'her' ass by continuing the research at home.
This was set not to just make millions, but billions! The Fountain of Youth was in the bottom of that vat and animal testing had proved the results were reproducible. There were some bugs to iron out like that turning into chick thing, but data was suggestive that depended on the type and amount of exposure to the substances the bacteria produced.
Ron never knew that baby 'Joan' had carefully raided the liquor cabinet after finding proof of his betrayal. Knowing Jennifer disliked brandy, there was a good chance that only Ron would touch the stuff. Very carefully she let her saliva run into the bottle so it wouldn't be easily spotted. Normally, the liquor would kill any bacteria which dared enter its environment, but not the stuff in this toddler's body. It was special and could survive in places no other could such as the bottom of a vat of caustic chemicals.
“Thanks John!” Ron lifted his glass in salute taking a swallow of the expensive, but contaminated brandy. The Soma-Ras-Bacteria grateful for a new home began to grow and multiply.
Here is my Stardust contest entry and this is a rather differently edited version than the one posted on StarDust. If you find the slang a bit difficult to read please try the version at StarDust because it is somewhat a little easier on the Southernisms.
This is the usual disclaimer. The following is a work of fiction and is meant to be taken as such. Profanity and nudity is presented within as well as TG themes. If such would offend you, please don't continue! Like a NASCAR driver, an author is just the person in front and would be nothing within the team behind them. My incredible team of editors and proofers include Holly Logan, H.E.R. and my loved one Paula. A special thanks to Angel O’Hara for just being herself! Oh, you too, Janet Nolan! Thanks for your sharp eyes!
Strange Happenings
In Ragnarok County
By
Grover
Well, I guess you could say it all started about a week after the big Fourth of July celebration. Scooter and I were makin' a few extra bucks helpin' clean up the park in front of the courthouse. That’s where we heard Old Josh Taylor complain to Sheriff Daly about someone stealin' his prize Rhode Island Red Rooster and leavin' a young hen in its place.
Always bein' on the watch for opportunities to make some money since we were on summer vacation, we overheard Old Josh offer two hundred dollars reward for the return of his rooster. Now, we’re pretty decent trackers, so when they finished talkin', I went right up to offer our services.
Old Josh didn’t look too thrilled that the only help he could get was two high school boys much less ones who had our reputation for findin' trouble, but I could tell he really wanted that rooster back. We made a deal that the two of us would meet him at his place after lunch, if he would chain up that junkyard mean mutt of his.
Scooter and I picked up the money comin' to us for our work in the park and headed over to Max’s for cheeseburgers. Scooter’s Dad had been after him to get that fire engine red hair of his cut, but the ornery cuss he was, Scooter kept makin' excuses. It almost came down to his shoulders and he wore it in a ponytail, usually with his prized NASA ball cap. Hey, a boy gotta eat, don’t he?
I didn’t blame him none for dodgin' his Dad, 'cause he had mean streak a mile wide when he was drinkin', and was none too friendly the rare times he was sober. Scooter’s Mom was one of the best-lookin' women in the county, as well as a good cook, and why she put up with the drinkin' no one has ever figured out.
“Bubba,” Scooter said, “Didja see those lights last night?”
Munchin' on one of Max’s “MAX” cheeseburgers loaded all-the-way didn’t leave much room for conversations, so I just gave a shake of my shaggy blond head. My Zebulon Mudcats ball cap was pushed back on my head, and nearly fell off. Hey, I know they’re only a minor league team, but I got the pitcher to autograph it!
Well, Scooter had all kinds of weird interests, from haunted houses to flyin' saucers, and I figured that was where this was headed. Sure ’nuff he got to talkin' about UFOs and wonderin' if they had “abducted” Old Josh’s rooster.
“Why in the world would Martians want to abduct a rooster for gosh sakes, Scooter?” I got out around a mouth full of chocolate shake.
“First of all, Bubba, there ain’t no Martians,” said Scooter, “NASA's had them remote controlled buggies runnin' around up there for years and they haven’t found hide nor hair of anyone at all.”
Scooter is my best friend, but sometimes he is just too smart for our own good. He always gets the highest grades in school, and if it was anyone else you’d bet he was a teacher’s pet. Nope, not Scooter. It wasn’t even 'cause he’d argue with a teacher if he thought they was wrong. Nope, the problem was that nine times out of ten he'd be right, and a lot of adults have a problem with that, for we'd all be juniors next year.
“Folks've been seein' stuff up there for a long time, Bubba. I figure that there has to be somethin' to it, even if we might not know exactly what,” Scooter said while workin' on his own shake.
“Alright Scooter, what’s up? I know you brought this up for some dog-gone reason,” I said as I was finishin' off the last of my fries. I was really wantin' to get to trackin' that chicken thief, because my half of two hundred bucks would be just thing to take Louise and Ann to the movies this weekend with a bit left over.
Don’t get me wrong here; we weren’t gonna to beat up anyone or anythin' like that. As long as we found out who did it and told the Sheriff, that was good ‘nuff for me. Besides, if we just returned that rooster, Old Josh might think we'd stolen it to start with. No Siree Bob, tellin' the Sheriff was good'nuff.
“Well, I thought while we were out trackin', we keep our eyes open for signs that a UFO landed.” Scooter put it to me.
On our way out the door, I thought about it. Scooter had good eyes and it would be easier with him helpin' rather than lettin' him go off on his own for his jack-a-lope hunt for little green men. “Alright Scooter, as long as we’re out there, it shouldn’t hurt to look for Martians too.”
I could tell he wanted to correct me about the Martians, but he had gotten what he wanted so he was willin' to let sleepin' dogs lie.”
The weather man hadn’t been lyin' when he said that it would reach 'round a hundred, but it wasn’t if we had much of a choice, because as “sure as shootin'” an afternoon thunderstorm'll come up and wash out the tracks. If we wanted that money, we had to do it in the heat of the day.
As we biked over to Old Josh’s place, I was glad both Scooter and I were in good shape from spendin' the summer doin' whatever odd jobs came our way. I was a little taller and heavier, but Scooter was the faster runner, and had better hand to eye coordination. I always told him he should pitch ball, but he refused sayin' he'd rather read than play sports. At any rate it didn’t take us long to get to Old Josh’s farm.
We were careful 'cause Damn Dog was mean. I don’t think it even had a name besides Damn Dog. It didn’t matter, though, 'cause what we found was worse. Old Josh was on the warpath cussin' and raisin' all sort of Caine. I'd rather 've fought the Damn Dog!
Seems Damn Dog had run off and one of Old Josh’s steers (gelded male cow) was now missin'. I was torn between tryin' to get him to increase the reward, and the desire to high-tail it as far away as I could get. I swear that old man could blister paint off a battleship with that evil tongue of his!
Scooter made our minds up for us, as he headed for the meadow to search for steer tracks. He had some peculiar ideas, sometimes, and he didn’t think much of cussin' in general. “Cussin' is what you do when you can’t think of any other way to say somethin',” was what he told me once.
Well, we found where the fence had been. It looked for all the world as if one of those county steam-rollers had mashed the fence down. I had my doubts that this was the right path, but Scooter was right when he said, “Even though we ain’t seein' any steer tracks, we’re followin' somethin' that was makin' a pretty big “road” here in the woods.” Hell, even my baby brother could follow the path it made.
We followed it two or three miles when Scooter spied the first of the strange spoor our live-stock thief was leavin'. It was a rabbit that was sleepin' right in the middle of that weird “road.” Scooter stepped lightly and snagged it by the scuff of the neck.
The rabbit’s eyes popped open and you could tell that we had scared the dickens out of the little thing. It did its best to get away, but Scooter had a good hold on it.
Then he started examinin' it. “Scooter, what in the world're you lookin' for? It’s a rabbit!” I told him, anxious to get on with it. The sky had started cloudin' up and it wasn’t a good idea to be out in a thunderstorm.
Scooter looked up at me and said, “Well, it’s a young female rabbit alright, but look at the paws.”
Lookin' at the paws I could see they were a pale pink, like a newborn’s and not the darker ones that a rabbit runnin' around in the woods should have. “Alright, Scooter, that is strange, but what’s that got to do with our chicken thief?”
He pushed up his NASA ball cap and said, “I don’t rightly know, but I think it's one more piece of the puzzle.” Scooter put the young rabbit down and it made some serious tracks of its own into nearest thicket.
For the next half mile or so we found more small critters, that were all for some reason just sleepin' in the middle of that mashed down path. There were a number of squirrels, some more rabbits, and even a fox, always right female and healthy, with no visible scars.
Then, we hit the jackpot or so I thought. “Look Scooter, it’s Old Josh’s steer.” I crowed happily, thinkin' of reward money. It was sure ‘nuff marked like the steer we’d seen a dozen or more times when it had busted loose before. We ran up, and just like those critters the steer was sleepin'. Bein' careful, we woke it and started leadin' it back to the farm.
“Uh, Bubba, you know we are gonna to have a problem with collectin' that reward, right?” questioned Scooter, who seemed dead set on ruinin' my good mood.
“Why’s that Scooter? Old Josh lost a cow and we’ve bringin' him a cow back, real simple.” I replied doin' my best to ignore what I already suspected.
“Bubba, he lost a steer. This ain’t a steer, though you do have the cow part right,” Scooter pointed out.
We walked on for a ways leadin' the cow in front of us not sayin' a thing . Finally not bein' able to stand it any longer, “I didn’t see any tracks leadin' to or from where “Bessie” here was sleepin'. Did you Scooter?”
Scooter shook his red ponytail, 'no.' “I didn’t see any sign around any of those other critters, either. You still think my UFO’s didn’t have anythin' to do with it?”
Just knowin' in my gut he was gonna to say it didn’t make it any better. “Well I don’t think someone used a road-roller to steal some farm animals. I suppose you‘re gonna to tell me what you think happened?”
He looked thoughtful, “Well, I’ve heard of cattle mutilations before, so I guess this could be some sort of the same. An experiment or somethin' the aliens are performin'.”
I made an unconscious gesture to protect what all those critters were missin', but I really didn’t think he was right. “Scooter I’ve seen those shows too, and those cows are always dead. You’re sayin' all these critters were male, and this thing took their wieners?”
“I don’t know Bubba, we’re just gonna to have come back tomorrow mornin' and try again.” I was in complete agreement because I still wanted that reward money.
By the time we got back to Old Josh’s, the Sheriff was there. I guess missin' a rooster was one thing, and a cow another. At first, Old Josh was glad to see us until he saw we had a cow and not a steer. He was gettin' wound up to have a fit, but the Sheriff stopped him, sayin' that we did what we should’ve done.
Old Josh wasn’t too happy and Scooter had been right when he said we weren’t gettin' any reward money. The Sheriff did question us carefully, but followin' Scooter’s lead, I didn’t add anythin' about cattle mutilations or UFOs.
With the storm comin', the Sheriff offered to throw our bikes in the back of his truck and give us a ride. Right then we heard barkin', and sure ’nuff Damn Dog came runnin' out of the woods just about where we had just come from. Predictably, Old Josh started cussin' at it for lettin' someone steal his steer. That was until Damn Dog squatted to pee! The Sheriff broke loose in a loud guffaw while Scooter and I hid ours behind sniggers.
“Josh” said the Sheriff chucklin', “I thought it was Damn Dog, not Damn Bitch!”
Scooter and I gave each other a knowin' look, because this Damn Bitch appeared exactly like Damn Dog, but for the lack of somethin' hangin'.
For the first time in my young life I saw Old Josh at a loss for words. Even more so when Damn Bitch ran up to him just like Damn Dog would have, even with complimentary growls at Scooter and me. Even the Sheriff pushed up his hat and gave his head a wonderin' scratch.
However the comin' storm made everyone go for cover and the Sheriff gave us that ride he promised. It was the typical summer thunderstorm with a lot of lightnin' and rain, and as usual, it only lasted about an hour or so, and then the sun came back out.
We thanked the Sheriff for the ride and made plans to meet up tomorrow to try again, since it was almost time for supper. I didn’t sleep too well that night, bein' excited about another try at that reward money in the mornin'. It wasn’t as if Louise was my girl or anythin', but I was hopin'! I think Ann had a crush on Scooter, but her folks weren’t too hot with the idea, with his dad drinkin' the way he did.
Mom gave me a suspicious look when I knocked out my chores so fast in the mornin', but she settled for warnin' me not to get into trouble. Scooter had a school bag over his shoulder and didn’t look like he slept well either. I suspected though, for different reasons, since his parents fight so much.
Not wantin' to pry but bein' concerned about my friend made me ask, “You okay?”
Scooter’s ponytail bounced as he nodded, “They were fightin' again,” he said.
“Your dad didn’t hit you, did he?” I asked.
Scooter gave a sad small laugh. “No, Mom told him if he ever hit one of us kids, she would hunt him down and shoot him like a rabid dog. Besides, she hits him about as often as he hits her, but she uses what ever comes to hand.”
Changin' the subject, I asked him what was in the bag, Scooter just grinned. “Stuff.”
It was much nicer bikin' to Old Josh’s place in the cool of the mornin' 'cause it was only eighty-five out. When we got there, we got the welcomin' growl from Damn Bitch, and saw Doc Johnson the vet takin' blood samples from Old Josh’s animals.
Old Josh gave us a sour look, but he called her off. I asked if any other animals had gone missin' and he replied nastily, “Ain’t enough gone missin' already?”
Doc Johnson warned us to be careful, and I could see he didn’t want us pokin' around at all, but he knew we'd just avoid him and do it anyways.
So, we went into the woods, and despite the wide trail, the rain and quickly growin' plants had obscured the path. Part of the strangeness about this was it had broken little to none of the foliage, just kinda pushed it aside.
After spendin' most of the day in the woods I was glad when Scooter dug those sandwiches out of his bag along with some bottles of water. We did find some burned marks that Scooter was sure where UFOs had landed, but after usin' this thing that he built for a science project he said that there wasn’t any radiation.
I was feelin' a mite let down when we dragged ourselves out of the woods at the end of the day, but Old Josh’s smirk made me determined to try again the next day. I was thinkin' that I would have a tussle with Scooter to get him to come back, but he seemed as eager as I was.
This time I did remember to bring some lunch, and Scooter met me ready to go. We had almost made it to Old Josh’s when we got passed by an ambulance! We gave each other a look and leaned into it, racin' to see what was up.
Damn Bitch was barkin' like mad at the yard full of cars and trucks invadin' her territory. The Sheriff was there, and the county rescue truck too. What grabbed our attention was the screamin', cussin', young woman who was bein' wrestled into the ambulance!
I was spellbound, hearin' her use language that would make a sailor blush, but Scooter grabbed my arm and showed me the “buckshot” blast in the side of Doc Johnson’s car. Tryin' not to call attention to ourselves, we edged closer to listen in on what was gonna on.
We had to be careful, 'cause Deputy Dog was here. That wasn’t his real name but he was always bullyin' folks. It wasn’t a big pond, but it was his pond, and he was the big fish. Except for the Sheriff and the Judge, of course, but he always knew how far he could go without them gettin' involved.
Doc Johnson apparently had some news for Old Josh, but when he pulled up; this young woman came out and shot at him. He'd called the Sheriff, who managed to disarm her. I couldn’t follow much of what he told the Sheriff, and I don’t think the Sheriff did either. Whatever it was had him real excited.
I looked to Scooter, but he hushed me tryin' to gather in every word. When it looked like we wouldn’t learn any more, I tugged on Scooter’s arm and gestured for us to make tracks. He nodded and we took off 'cause, we knew if the Sheriff and Deputy Dog couldn’t find us, they couldn’t order us home.
We pedaled down the road a ways and cut into the woods tryin' to cross the trail. “Scooter, did you catch any of that stuff Doc Johnson was talkin' about? He lost me after about three words.”
“Well Bubba, I think I got most of it. First of all, that woman back there was Old Josh,” he said.
“No, it couldn’t be!” I exclaimed, but there couldn’t be two people with such a foul mouth like hers. I was devastated. The way she was fightin' and cussin', there was no way anyone was gonna to let her loose anytime soon. That meant no reward money, and no reward money meant no money for dates or movies this weekend.
Pickin' up my bike, I started out of the woods. When Scooter asked, “Are you gonna to let me finish before leavin'?”
Stoppin', I motioned him to go on.
“Second,” Scooter picked back up, “All of the animals that were “taken” were indeed female, but DNA tests found that somehow their DNA has been “re-compiled.”
Seein' he'd lost me, Scooter, rephrased, “All the junk and unused stuff in their DNA has been cleaned away. This means they are healthier, more resistant to disease, and more likely to live long lives. Not only that, but Damn Bitch got hit by a car some years back and now there's no sign of even a scar.”
“Scooter,” I sighed, “I can see that you’re excited by all of this, but why should we run around in the woods with somethin' that can steal somethin' that is near and dear to my heart, without even the opportunity for a reward.”
“Well,” he said, “Think of the possibilities! There’s nothin' on earth we know of that could do this, so it has to be from UFOs”
“That ain't gonna to do it Scooter! This thing is dangerous, and I like playin' baseball and don’t care for softball! I’ll rather have the chance to use what I got before losin' them to some monster from Mars!
Seein' how that wasn’t movin' me, Scooter used his hole card, “Because you’re my friend and I’m askin' you to?”
“But that will,” I said, downcast, knowin' that whatever was pushin' him to go after this “thing” was important enough for him to pull the “friendship” card on me. I still didn’t like it, but he was my friend.
Without another word, he turned and went into the woods. I followed Scooter havin' a really bad feelin' about all of this. Once again, we found the mashed down path that a blind man could follow. I think we both saw “it” at the same time.
I don’t think I really believed the bit about UFOs, Martians and stuff. That is until I saw this “Green” Blob that sorta rolled along. It was almost a letdown, because it didn’t have fangs, tentacles, or claws. It was, just, well, a translucent “Green.”
There wasn’t any doubt that this was what we were lookin' for because we could see small critters inside it. They just looked like they were sleepin', nothin' gross or anythin'.
I looked at Scooter and whispered, “Now what, Agent Mulder?”
He reached into that bag he’d been luggin' around all week and produced one of those cheap disposable cameras. Disablin' the flash, he started takin' pictures. Me, I was just hopin' that when it “grew” teeth and came after us that he wouldn’t forget I couldn’t run as fast as he could!
Then, we just sat there and watched it meander around the woods for a while. Every now and then one of the critters inside would “drift” to the edge of the blob, and it would gently leave it on the ground. We got to see the other end of the process as Scooter called it when it “touched” a squirrel and it just went limp. Then it just rolled over the top of it and the squirrel was inside.
I was confused because it didn’t make any what I could call aggressive movements, but then it wasn’t from around here, so who knew how it was actin'. What was even more confusin' was how fascinated by this thing Scooter was.
“Hey, Scooter!” I whispered, “Are you alright? You’re actin' a little strange.”
“I’m fine, Bubba. I think it’s some kind of scientist or maybe a samplin' machine,” he replied without takin' his eyes from it.
“Heck, if you don’t count whackin' their wieners off, it is just a friendly visitor from another planet. Oops, did you need that?” I was only half jokin'. This “blob” made me uneasy, and nervous as a long tail cat in a room full of rockin' chairs.
That was when I saw Deputy Dog comin' up the trail. I grabbed Scooter and pulled him out of sight. Peerin' though the bushes we could see he had a shotgun, and was stalkin' our “Green” Blob.
I was afraid that Scooter would try to warn the cotton-pickin' thing, but he seemed content to continue takin' notes. We were both wonderin' what Deputy Dog was gonna to do and he didn’t make us wait long to find out
Bam!, Bam!, Bam! went the 12 gauge shotgun and just like he was on the firin' range, he loaded another three shells. He could’ve emptied the shotgun for what good it did him, because all the buckshot did was kinda make splashes on the Green Blob, and then it hurried away!
I do mean hurry, because it could really move when it wanted to. However, Deputy Dog hadn’t decided to call it a day yet. He ran after it, still tryin' to finish reloadin'.
Scooter sighed, “Well, so much for friendly Alien relations.”
Well, there was a reason why we called him Deputy Dog and it wasn’t because of his smarts. Scooter and I both ducked as he just gave up and started blastin' away! Bam!, Bam!, Bam!!!
Out of pure luck like out of a bad comedy skit, this bird of all things got hit by old “Dead-Eye” and fell to the ground. The Green Blob stopped cold and extended what Scooter called a pseudo-pod to the bird. Deputy Dog still havin' two more shots left in his shotgun decides that this would be a good time to use them, Bam!, Bam!
That was a mistake, because the next thing we know Green Blob is on top of Deputy Dog like a snake on crap! Blinkin' my eyes, I could see the good Deputy floatin' in that Green stuff and all of his clothes just kinda meltin' away.
Scooter’s sharp eyes spotted the plastic and metal parts from the zippers and buttons just “fall” out of the “Green Blob” along with the shotgun. It then went back to the bird and “swallowed” it, too. Now that I knew what to look for, I saw the buckshot that had struck the bird fall out of the Green Blob like all that other stuff had.
I was ready to bug out real quick-like, but damn it if Scooter didn’t have another camera in his bag and started takin' pictures regular like.
“What are you doin', Scooter? It’s time to get out of here! That thing just ate a deputy, and he had a shotgun,” I told him tryin' to keep myself calm.
“Shhh! Bubba! This is important. We get to see just what it’s doin' now. Here, you time me.” Scooter handed me his watch. Seein' he wasn’t payin' me no mind, I half thought about takin' off, but he was my friend, Damn it!
So we sat there takin' pictures as it moved around, lookin' at this and that. After about half an hour we could see that Deputy Dog was gonna to need a new name, but that didn’t alarm me as much as when the first helicopter flew over.
I don’t think the helicopter saw us or the blob, but they sure looked liked they were lookin' for somethin'. US Air Force was plainly written on the side and they were flyin' kinda low. Seein' as how no one had come to rescue Deputy Dog, even though I know everyone at Old Josh’s farm had to have heard the shots, I was thinkin' the Air Force had showed up.
Decidin' that it was time to try convincin' Scooter it was past time to get the Hell out of here, I pointed out to him that it was gettin' dark, now in addition to the Air Force who would be carryin' guns.
I ain't a genius like Scooter, but I could see my arguments weren’t doin' much good. “OK, Scooter, I give up. What're you waitin' for?” I asked my friend.
Scooter looked at me and said, “I’m waitin' to see how the Deputy comes out of the Alien.”
I was wishin' he hadn’t used that choice of words because of the visions of “chest-busters” and “Edgar-suits” they called to mind. Cursin' myself for a fool, I knew I couldn’t abandon him here with that thing around, so I tried to be patient while the Green Blob finished digestin' Deputy Dog.
We saw a few more helicopters, but about another half hour passed before the person formally known as the Deputy Dog found herself sleepin' in the middle of the trail behind the Green Blob. I just knew Scooter was gonna to try to get up close and personal and he did. Lyin' right next to her was the bird Deputy Dog had shot. Scooter nudged it, and it jumped up and flew away like nothin' had happened!
I must admit, as a woman Deputy Dog was lot better lookin'! Of course she was naked as a jaybird and didn’t look older than maybe twenty years old, as compared to the Dog who was nearer forty than thirty.
Not sure what was gonna to happen, I held my breath when Scooter woke her up. She blinked her gorgeous brown eyes a couple times, looked at us, looked down and saw her bosom and freaked!
Scooter tried to ask her if she was all right, but she jumped up screamin' somethin' about “havin' tits” and ran down the trail like a scared rabbit!
I turned and looked in the direction of the Green Blob, but it didn’t seem concerned about us or the naked girl runnin' screamin' away, though even in Ragnarok County that’s not somethin' you see everyday.
I turned back around to tell Scooter, since she was awake and headed more or less in the right direction, it was time for us to “Get” as well, but he was gone! Twistin' about to find him, I saw him walkin' right towards Green Blob shuckin' his t-shirt and droppin' his bag!
‘Oh Crap!,’ “Scooter, what the Hell are you doin'?” I yelled, runnin' after him.
Scooter handed his t-shirt to me, “Well Bubba, I think I’m gonna get myself caught and take a little nap.”
“Caught? Have you lost your mind? What do you think you’re gonna do, commune with it somehow? Didn’t you see it take Deputy Dog’s happy bits away?” I nearly screamed at him, wavin' my arms.
“Now just calm down Bubba. I saw what it did to that idiot and those animals. It looks like it was just makin' those DNA changes I was tellin' you about and not doin' any mind control or other mischief. You told me yourself that the Air Force was closin' in, and if I don’t do it now, I won’t ever be able to,” Scooter told me in a matter of fact way as he took off his jeans and boxers.
“You’ve always known I was different, but you never gave me any grief about it even when my little brother tattled ‘bout me wearin' some of my Mom’s under-things. Bubba you are a good friend, but I’ve got to do this. Hold on to these, will you? I’ll need them when I come out.” Scooter gave me his jeans as he walked away bare as the day he was born.
I stood there wonderin' if I could drag him all the way home, or knock him out or somethin'. The Green Blob had stopped movin' and gave the impression as if waitin' for him. “Scooter!” I shouted, tryin' to keep him from makin' a lastin' mistake, but he gave this sorta half smile and said, “Bye Bubba.”
Then, he stepped into the Green Blob. I stood there shocked at myself lettin' my best friend commit suicide. That’s when another helicopter flew over and my wits started comin' back.
‘Crap! If the Air Force catches this thing with Scooter inside, what were the odds they will just give him back? Not good, not good at all.’ I stuffed Scooter's clothes into his bag and threw it over my shoulder. Lookin' about in the wanin' light I found a deadfall branch and began hidin' our trail.
Since we didn’t have a storm today, we didn’t have the rain to hide the Green Blob’s trail. I did the best I could to lay a false trail usin' Scooter’s bag to “mash” down the foliage.
It was about then I saw some lights in the distance and I guessed the Air Force was comin' in. If you've never been in the woods at night, it gets Damn dark! Thankfully, Scooter’s watch had a luminous face so I could tell how long it had been since he pulled his damn stunt! ‘Damn it, only a half hour?’
Worryin' that if some of the Air Force guys might have those night-vision goggles you see them with on TV, I would never see them comin'. Not only that, but wouldn’t you know that the Green Blob just had to glow in the dark?”
The moon was comin' up and the good news was it was a “Full Thunder Moon” which was good for me. I could still see lights movin' a little closer to me in a line, which meant they definitely knew about where the Glowin' Green Blob was.
I was down to prayin' that it would let Scooter go in time for us to get away before the Air Force caught us, when all the lights went out. Whisperin' to myself, “Now what?” as even Scooter’s watch faded out.
It was just then that I heard a whine that made me look up. At first, I thought it was another helicopter, but helicopters don’t usually look like a Flyin' Saucer. Yes sirree, one genuine Flyin' Saucer, and of course, it picked tonight to come down and complicate my life.
I didn’t know how much longer Scooter had to “bake” but I decided that I'd best see what that Martian Saucer was up to. I made the best guess I could of where Glowin' Green Blob was by usin' the Moon and the North Star and worked my way over where the Saucer looked to have landed.
By the time I got to it, a little ramp had come down and one shore’nuff Martian was walkin' down it. He looked a lot like those little guys from “Mars Attacks” and was carryin' what could only be a gun, and somethin' else like a “Tri-corder.”
You can bet your last dollar that yours truly wasn’t gonna to pull that stupid, “walk out to him sayin' welcome to our happy planet.” No way, Jose! Mama Bubba’s little boy was gonna hide here in the woods and pretend to be just another bush.
Well, he walked around a bit with that “Tri-corder” thing, and then did the damnedest thing with it. Startin' near the ramp of the Saucer, he began layin' a trail with somethin' about the size and color of purple plums. He then slowly began makin' his way towards where Glowin' Green Blob was with Scooter.
I shook my head, wonderin' just how advanced these Martians was supposed to be. This was like somethin' out of The Roadrunner, with Wily Coyote layin' a trail of birdseed for the Roadrunner to follow back to the “trap.”
Keepin' low, I followed the Martian as he more or less headed towards Glowin' Green Blob, but from the crashes in the woods, the Air Force was blunderin' closer, even without any lights. I sure wasn’t the best in wood craft, and usually made more than my share of noise, but these guys made a herd of thunderin' elephants sound quiet. I guess the Air Force ain’t got much use for stalkin'.
As for as the Martian, he had enough blinkin' lights on him to make a poor man’s Christmas tree. There were lights on his suit and on most of the gadgets he was totin'. He didn’t seem to notice much, because he was so busy layin' out his trail of plums.
Darin' to stand up and climb part of the way up a tree, no fun in the dark I can tell you, I could see where all three of my problems were gonna to collide, and that was trouble I didn’t need!
I managed to find Green Glowin' Blob before the other two did. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I had to change its direction somehow. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was get anywhere near this Green threat to my family jewels! ‘Scooter you’re gonna owe me so big,’ I swore!
Abandonin' my concealment and my common sense, I walked to within about ten feet of it. Even though I was scared enough that the “boys” had pulled up nice and tight, I was glad to see Scooter’s shape driftin' near the bottom of the Green Glowin' Blob.
Just like when Scooter had approached it, the Blob stopped movin', and so did I. Rememberin' how fast it “jumped” Deputy Dog, I slowly backed away, hopin' it would follow. When it did, I almost bolted from pure fear, but the thought of the woods full of men and Martians with guns made me think twice.
Not wantin' to look away from the advancin' blob, I had to steal a glance up at the sky though the trees to get my bearin's. It seemed like it took hours for us to move around behind the Martian, but I knew that Scooter only needed a few more minutes before he was “DONE.” Findin' that thought disturbin', I concentrated on not stumblin' over somethin' in the dark.
It was about then the first shouts started from the Air Force Guys. Someone shouted that they were the Air Force and for “you” to drop your weapon. I think it was gunfire I heard first, but I honestly can’t be sure, because whatever “Ray-gun” that Martian was packin' had one Hell of a wallop!
I could see these huge blue bolts flyin' all over the place and with the tracers and muzzle flashes from the Air Force it was “War of the Worlds” all over again!
We were far enough away that not too much of it came close, but I did hear some bullets whistlin' past over my head. Hopin' that the Blob wouldn’t react like it had when Deputy Dog shot that bird, I caught my breath when it hesitated, but then started after me again.
I had what I hoped was a good idea and changed course to head for the Martian’s Saucer. It had occurred to me that maybe the Martian was after the Green Glowin' Blob, too, so that trail of “plums” might be bait of a sort. All I had to do was get close enough to the Saucer so when Scooter “dropped” I could cut across the trail of Plums and get it to follow them instead of me. Good idea right?
Meanwhile “War of the Worlds” had ended the same way movie had, with the gunfire becomin' less and less frequent until it stopped all together. A few more “Blue Bolts” flew about just to make sure I s'pose, and then they stopped, too. Not good!
Thank God Scooter finally dropped sleepin' behind the Glowin' Green Blob and the Martian’s Saucer was in sight! Followin' my plan, and hopin' that it wouldn’t speed up now it had gotten rid of Scooter; I crossed over the trail of the Martian’s “plums.”
That was where things went south! The Damn Green Blob would rather follow me rather than the “plums!” I tried it again and saw in the glow that it was pickin' up the “plums” but every time I tried to angle away, it followed me instead of the trail of plums, Yikes!
It was then the Martian showed up and I could just tell he’d had one Hell of a day. He was dirty and looked if he had fallen a time or two as well. He had his “ray-gun” clenched in his fist and it might have been my imagination, but I could almost see the “barrel” glowin' from its recent use.
I’m tellin' you it was one of those “caught between a rock and a hard place” moments, with the Green wiener eatin' Blob on one side, and the Martian fresh from slaughterin' the Air Force on the other. His eyes widened as he took in the situation and then, didn’t the dang Martian start laughin'!
Well he was makin' this sound that was like someone stranglin' a frog, so I reckoned it was laughin'. The Green Blob was gettin' a little close, so I tried to scoot a few steps away, but the Damn Martian raised his Ray-gun and I froze. Then he started laughin' again!
Oh yeah, he knew exactly the kind of “fix” I was in and he was just havin' a ball at my expense! I slowly raised my arm and pointed at his “Flyin' Saucer” and then at the Green Blob. He lowered his Ray-gun a tad and nodded.
‘Alright!, Maybe I can get me and my wiener out of here in one piece after all.’ I doubled tapped myself on the chest and then pointed at the “too Damn close” Glowin' Green Blob and then back at the “Flyin' Saucer.”
He was considerin' it I could see, and then pointed at his head and then mine. Wonderin' what he wanted I touched my Zebulon Mudcat’s Ball cap and damn if he didn’t gesture, Yes! Thinkin' nasty thoughts about Martians and crazy friends, I took off my cap and tossed it to him.
The Martian picked it up and put it on his too large head and made a “be my guest,” half bow. I did notice right off he didn’t lower his gun much, so he didn’t trust me. That was fine, because I didn’t trust him either!
The next five minutes were some of the most nerve rackin' ones I’ve ever had, but it was straightforward. All I needed to do was move to the Saucer and the Blob would follow. The next part, however, was a doozy! I had to get the Blob on the Saucer without gettin' caught, and avoid bein' double-crossed by that Damn Martian.
I took a second to form my plan and took a deep breath. The Damn Martian was still plainly amused by me and my plight. There was a tense time when he thought I was gonna go up the “ramp” but I managed to calm him down.
Standin' there about halfway up the ramp, I waited for the Blob to get onto the ramp. Then I swung myself underneath it and ran like the Devil himself was at my heels! My short hairs had curled up waitin' for one or the other of them to do somethin'. I hit the edge of the glade and slid to a stop behind an old oak.
That Damn Martian was laughin' his dang’ butt off! The Glowin' Green Blob that had start all this cotton-pickin' trouble had that dejected look a dog gets when he’s the butt of the joke, but don’t know why. How a blob could look that way is beyond me, but it did!
It gave up and just shuffled onto the “Flyin' Saucer.” The Martian started laughin' again, at the Blob I suppose. It then started up the ramp, but just before enterin' the ship still wearin' my ball cap he said, “You’re pretty Damn funny, monkey boy!” The voice sounded just like a Hollywood Actor that I’m not gonna to name because it’s just too darn corny!
Just like in the movies, the “Flyin' Saucer” hovered, folded up its “landin' legs,” and took off! I had torn my jeans sometime durin' all of this and knew that I would be hearin' from my folks about “Money don’t grow on trees.” All I could think about was, ‘Scooter you’re gonna to owe me BIG!’
Not knowin' how long it would take for the “Air Force’s Last Stand” survivors to get to me, I ran back to where the Green Blob had dropped “Sleepin' Beauty.” The Yoke was on me because even in the moonlight or maybe because of it, Scooter was a genuine, double-take, eye-poppin' looker!
It shouldn’t have surprised me, since Scooter’s Mom was a looker, too, but I wasted time we didn’t have, gawkin'. I dug Scooter’s clothes from the bag and woke her. I was half expectin' her to scream and run off like Deputy Dog.
She opened her eyes and gave me a small smile. I pointed down at her bosom and held out her stuff. Then Scooter surprised the Hell out me again. She cupped her breasts and had such an expression of absolute contentment, that I knew I was gonna to be needin' a cold shower. A Very Cold Shower!
“Bubba!” I heard her voice for the first time. “Turn around! Didn’t your Mama teach you that you shouldn’t stare at naked women?”
I thought about a reply to that one, but couldn’t think of anythin' that wouldn’t get me in trouble, so I bit my tongue. Turnin' around instead I said, “We don’t have much time. The Air Force ain’t gonna to take kindly to that Martian shootin' them up. You so owe me for tonight!
“Bubba, how many times do I have to tell you that the Green Blob ain’t a Martian. Besides, what did it use to shoot them with? It don’t got hands!” Scooter objected while I kept my back turned.
“Not that one. It was the other one that landed in the Flyin' Saucer which got into the fight with the Air Force,” I told her.
I nearly jumped when her hand touched my shoulder, and she asked me, “For real Bubba?”
Clearin' my throat, “Cross my heart and hope to die truth. We have high-tail it quick like!”
Turnin' around I could see she filled out her old clothes too darn well for my peace of mind, while tellin' myself, ‘This is Scooter! Stop starin' at her you-know-whats!’
She didn’t make it any easier when she put her hands on her hips and demanded, “Tell me you took some pictures of all of this?”
Dumbfounded, I just stood there until I saw some lights flickerin' on. “Oh shit, Scooter, we've got to go!” I said, thankful to be left off the hook. I grabbed her bag and we started runnin'. It just wasn’t fair, Scooter had always been able to outrun me, and I was thinkin' that since she was a girl now, at least I would be able to outrun her, Hell No! It was me tryin' to keep up with her!
We got back to our bikes, and she gave me a look when I headed back to Old Josh’s Farm. When we got there, it had even more trucks than this mornin'. A lot of them were Air Force, but most of the guys that came in them were helpin' their confused friends out of the woods.
It seemed no one had gotten hurt after all, but they couldn’t remember how they got there. They all just suddenly woke up in the dark. I was just thankful that the Martian hadn’t vaporized them. I spotted the person I was lookin' for and went after him in the confusion.
“Doc Johnson!” He turned around and I saw his eyes got wide when he saw Scooter’s make-over. “Doc, have you found those critters my Da’ let Old Josh borrow?” I asked him winkin'.
He gave us a long look and I wasn’t sure he was gonna go for it, but it looked like I had it figured right after all, when he asked, “You mean that hen, cow, and that dog?”
I ginned, “That’s the ones Doc. I know that you’ve been runnin' tests on the critters around here and you know that my Dad won’t mind at all you doin' all the tests you want, at our place.”
He gave the Air Force guys a sour look and said, “I’ll bring them by tomorrow but first I have some paperwork to “re-organize.” Here, let’s get you a ride home.”
My heart dropped when I saw him wave the Sheriff over, and the look the Sheriff gave me and the new Scooter, was one that I never want to see again.
Doc Johnson said, “Sheriff, Bubba just came over to remind me to bring his father’s live-stock back tomorrow. I have some paperwork to take care of. Can you give them a ride home?”
They gave each other a hard look and I’m guessin' that the Air Force had ruffled a few feathers. The Sheriff’s face broke into a grin as he made up his mind, “I’m a bit busy right now, but seein' how one of my deputies is helpin' the boys in blue with tests, of course I can.
He put his windbreaker around Scooter, to help hide how badly her clothes fit, and led us to his truck. I put our bikes in back, hopin' that no one with a sharp-eye saw that they were both boy's bikes. Everyone was still busy with the dazed survivors of my Martian’s rampage with his neuralizer gun (Device from MIB movie that erases memories), so no one bothered us.
The Sheriff gave a huff as we were leavin' the farm, “I know I shouldn’t be surprised that one of you ended up this way. We’re lucky you both didn’t lose somethin' you would rather not. My Deputy got changed too, and the Air Force hauled her away without so much as a thank you.
“I’m not gonna to let that happen to you, because we take care of our own here. I’ll talk to the Judge about keepin' everythin' straight, so you two need to keep your mouths shut. Do you hear me?”
Scooter and I both muttered, “Yes sir.”
He then gave Scooter a long look as we stopped in front of her house, “Are you gonna to be able to deal with this? You father ain’t gonna to like this much.”
Scooter with complete innocence said, “I’ve always been the brainy sort, so I don’t think bein' a girl is gonna to matter much. It’s gonna to be hard but Mama always wanted a girl, so I know she’ll help.”
Dang! I could almost see the halo Scooter was tryin' so hard to make appear! Scooter was a handful enough as a boy, and I was beginnin' to get the feelin' that no one was ready for her as a girl!
“Ya’ll wait here while I talk to your folks,” the Sheriff told us, and he went inside.
“Bubba, what was that about you wantin' the livestock that got changed?” Scooter asked as soon as he was out of sight.
“Scooter, you've always been able to out run me, but at the end you were always breathin' hard. Tonight, you out ran me and weren’t pantin' at all. If all of the critters that got changed are like that and along with bein' female, we are talkin' about some damn fine breedin' stock,” I told her, without thinkin' about what else I’d just said.
Even in the light from the front porch, I could see her blush, and I got tongue-tied once it hit me what I said. “Scooter, I didn’t mean it that way!” I sputtered.
She gave me a peck on the cheek before I knew what was happenin', and it was my turn to go scarlet! Geez, she hadn’t been a girl for a whole day yet and she was already confoundin' me! I was further along understandin' what my Da had been tryin' to tell me when he had said, “Son, no one's ever figured out what’s on a woman’s mind.” What made it so bad was this was Scooter!
Scooter just gave real girly giggle, “Don’t hurt yourself Bubba! I can hear the gears grindin' from you thinkin' so hard!”
The door opened and I gave a sigh of relief for bein' saved from further teasin' from my best friend. The Sheriff came out and told us that my parents had been phoned and told I was all right. He then told Scooter to go on in.
I watched Scooter go inside and the Sheriff gave me a knowin' look as he drove away. My folks were gonna to be so mad at me, but I had to know Scooter was gonna to be fine. Creepin' up to the front porch, I heard Scooter’s Dad shoutin' and cussin' about her bein' a fag and a lot of other things that I’m not gonna to repeat.
It was then I almost felt it more than heard the “CRACK” that I just knew Scooter'd been hit. Reachin' for the door to run in, I froze at the distinctive “CLICK CLACK” of a shotgun slide lockin' a shell home.
“I told you, you sum’bitch, if you ever hit one of my kids, I was gonna shoot you down like a rabid dog. You hit me and I knock the hell out of you back, but you don’t raise a hand to my chill’ns!” Scooter’s Mom shrieked!
The door flew open, knockin' me over as her Dad leaped off the porch as a blast of buckshot blew a hole though the reboundin' door! He ran smack into the Sheriff’s truck, as the sheriff had crept back with his lights off. I reckon he thought this might happen.
Her Mom kicked the shattered door open and jacked in another shell, clearly meanin' to follow though on her threat. The Sheriff got out of his truck in such a way that I knew he would long remember this day.
“Now, Mary-Ellen you put that scatter-gun away. No one is gonna to blame you for shootin' at this drunken fool, but if you kill him, that’s a whole 'nother story. 'Sides, it’s not right to shoot a man with his own gun,” the Sheriff told her.
She was still in a temper but she gave a sharp laugh, “Not after the divorce it ain’t! He’ll be lucky if he keeps his drawers!” she said as she gave up the shotgun. “Since you’re here, you can help me with my new daughter. That sum’bitch smacked her in the face pretty hard.”
I had already checked inside, and boy did Scooter have a shiner, but she seemed fine except for that. The Sheriff came in, looked her over, took some pictures, and had everyone make a statement. He watched me as I went home, and I knew that this time he would make sure that I really got there.
To say my folks were a little mad at me didn’t come close to the truth. They’d heard the shot and met me half way. I was lucky that they did let me tell my part of the tale before renderin' judgment. Da’ didn’t know what to think about the “live-stock” that Doc Johnson was gonna be bring over the next day if he could, but I put the best spin on it I could.
I believe that the only thing that kept me from bein' grounded the rest of the summer was that they were glad that Scooter’s Mom had kicked “that Damn Drunk” out. That was the end of one of the strangest days I have ever had or even heard of for that matter.
Well, Doc Johnson did bring the livestock over, and just like I thought, they gave us some of the best stock in the county, although they had nothin' but female offspring. Damn Bitch was a whole other story.
My Mom objected to the name so we started callin' the dog Dee Bee. Dee Bee still didn’t care much for me, but she and Scooter came to an understandin'. When it became clear she would rather hang with Scooter than with us, that was fine, since she spent so much time at my house anyways. Scooter did get pictures when Dee Bee had her litter of pups. I swear that was the most peculiar look I have ever seen on man or beast.
Scooter got a new name courtesy of the Judge, and her Mom got the divorce she wanted. Scooter wasn’t the only one to get a new name. About a month after that Day, Old Josh came back to town callin' herself Jessie.
My Da’ went over to Jessie’s place where we had been helpin' some of the other neighbors keepin' up the place until we knew what was up. Jessie, it seemed, was fine with us havin' the livestock, but did insist on the choice pick of chicks and pups and the first calf.
A few months later, she hooked up with a biker and got married, Go figure! No one knew what happened to the Deputy formerly known as Dog, until some pictures showed up in the Penthouse. Don’t suppose we will ever know that story, but the pictures did look like she was havin' a good time.
That brings us up to now. I spent nearly every penny I had saved for the tux rental, but as we walked from my truck to go inside to the Prom, I was satisfied. The gorgeous redhead on my arm gave me a little strut to my walk, because I knew I had the prettiest girl in the county.
I leaned over and whispered to her teasin'ly, “Scooter, when I said you owed me big this wasn’t what I had in mind.”
Deirdre elbowed me and smiled, “Oh, you haven’t seen nothin' yet, Mister College freshman to be, even if it did take me to tutor you to make that scholarship.”
Thinkin' back about that day when everythin' changed, “Dee, what do you think Green Blob really was?
We both looked up at the stars above as Dee said, “The answer to my prayers,” and we went inside to join the music and laughter of our classmates.
***
*+#*@! had a really bad day. First, a transport dropped a Moratian tourist on the wrong planet, and when he had finally run down the Smegging transport to find out where the lost Moratian had actually been dropped, it had been on a proscribed world!
He had collided into some Smegged debris that the Smegging monkey boys left in orbit after blowing up some space junk, causing him to waste three cycles waiting for maintenance to bring him the right parts.
All the while, the Moratian tourist had run around trying to talk to the locals. Unfortunately, for them, Moratians communicate via organic molecule exchange. It had changed them because it was trying to help them “speak” louder, ignorant of what it was really doing. The only good thing was the tourist was practically immune to all of their primitive weapons.
When *+#*@! finally had located the Moratian, it was being stalked by one of the native tribes, and had gotten shot at with their primitive weapons for Smegs sake! No matter, he would have had to Synapse them anyways, but it had been amusing when the young hatchling had gotten the Moratian on his trail.
The hatchling had led the tourist back to the ship, not knowing that it was just trying to ask for directions! Once it was on the ramp of course, the Moratian knew it had found someone to help it.
The tourist couldn’t understand why *+#*@! was laughing at it. Thank Smeg for the translator. He really should have Synapsed the monkey boy right between the visual receptors, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. After all, they had made a deal, he mused proudly, wearing the colorful native headdress. Such a clever little monkey!
The End
Supernatural Tales
The early winter storm raged, slashing and tearing with icy blades at the weary Christmas decorations along the street vainly trying shine though the winterly onslaught. Ice glazed the poorly heated apartment windows erasing all signs of the holiday season as the storm howled.
Oblivious to the ice and snow outside, a tall poorly dressed young man stood reading from an old worn book with a fierce concentration. His poor posture and ill-kept manners were at odds with how carefully he pronounced each word of the ancient text. As he spoke the final syllable the power released from the mystical summoning spell echoed in the small room. It rang with a surge of magical energies that ignited the wards he'd laid down earlier in salt with a brilliant flare that shined forth into the cold forbidding night with a baleful light.
Shivering in the ill heated room, Godfrey ignored the chill and the blizzard outside the thin walls. Finally after all these years he would achieve his most heartfelt desires and dreams. The smoky stench of brimstone filled the drafty single room. The wards’ blinding glare slowly faded revealing within the pentagram a rather clichéd demon.
Well, almost… It was most emphatically male and sported red skin, forked tail, bat wings as well as the traditional cloven hoofs. But strangely rather than horns of a ram it had antlers any stag would be proud of. And it was reclining in a uncomfortable, worn looking chair with a pair of reading glasses perched upon its snout reading a book held in his paws.
Godfrey waited a few moments but finally impatiently spoke up, “Excuse me, but isn't this where you threaten me and demand to know why I summoned you?”
Looking up from his book across the top of his glasses at Godfrey, the demon sighed and carefully marked his page as to not damage it with its razor sharp claws. “I was getting to a good part.” Slowly shaking his horned head, “Happens every single damn time.” He muttered sadly, “Well that's un-life in hell.”
Standing, the demon was an impressive sight, rippling with muscles and its antlers and bat wings scraping the eight-foot ceiling. That is if you ignored him awkwardly teetering about on his cloven hoofs. He had to use the aged, battered recliner to help him balance.
“I suppose I'm to grant you a wish in exchange for your mortal soul, right?” the Demon asked resting his book in his chair and placing his glasses into a passing cloud of hellish gases wafting around him.
“Yes!” Godfrey replied excitedly. “I want to be a young, beautiful, sexy woman, with loads of money! Here is the contract I wrote out giving all the exact details,” holding out the thick stack of papers.
“Hold on there buddy!” the demon said looking down at the actively blazing wards while tapping a hoof. “You break your wards and there'll be hell to pay.”
Abashed, Godfrey blushed, knowing if the pentagram were broken the Demon would be free to do him harm.
Rolling his cat-slitted eyes at Godfrey's clumsiness the demon asked, “Are sure you want this? I mean life as a woman sucks. Just look at Anna Nicole: beautiful, rich, I mean she had it all! Look at what happened to her, very sad.”
Godfrey's eyes widened. “She went to hell?”
Holding up his paws in denial, the demon answered, “I can not confirm or deny the final destination of any soul. Privacy laws and agreements even in Heaven and Hell don't you know. Besides why would you want to go though menses, childbirth, menopause and all that other icky stuff? You're a guy! You've got it made. Low maintenance, no responsibilities wham, bam, thank you ma'am! It's Paradise!”
Godfrey, violently shaking his head, disagreed. “No, it's not! From my earliest memories, I've always felt more like a girl than a boy. Growing up was no fun at all. The girls wouldn't play with me because I was a boy and the boys didn't want to have anything to do with someone as girlish as me. Even now it's the same. I've tried to be who everyone tells me to be, but I can't! I have to be who I really am! Please you have to help me!”
“Whoa there buddy,!” the demon said holding up his paws. “This is a demon you're talking to here. We don't do the help thing.” He said making flaming ditto marks in the air with his claws.
The Demon expelled a small snort of flames. “Okay, let me get this straight. You want to become a woman because being a guy is just like being in hell?”
“Yes, yes! That’s it exactly!” Godfrey nodded excitedly.
Rubbing the bridge of his snout the demon sighed, “Houston we have a problem.”
Godfrey, confused shook his head. “Problem? I summoned you. I get my wish. You get my soul in exchange. What's the problem?”
“Okay let me break it down for you. Selling your soul to a demonic presence, me, means that after you die you have VIP tickets to the front of the line to the Big Inferno. Hell isn't just about being burned alive; that stuff is all allegory. Hell means whatever events and or conditions torment you the most, you suffer for all eternity. You get the picture?”
Godfrey blinked a couple of times. “You mean I get my wish, but after I die I experience whatever causes me the most pain?”
The Demon nodded. “Yeah. And if being a guy is what causes you the most torment...”
Godfrey leaned on the shabby wall in shock. “Oh crap! For all eternity?”
“Or forever. Which ever lasts the longer.”
Shaking his head, “I don't want that! What am I going to do?”
The demon went to scratch his head but stuck himself on one of his own horns, “Ow!”
“I hear surgeons in Thailand do good work, if you know what I mean. Your other choice would be to tough out the next fifty, sixty years and wait for judgment at the Gates.”
Godfrey slumped down by the wall and began to cry.
“Oh for ..., don't CRY!” Looking upwards exasperated the demon asked, “What did I do to deserve this? NO!, don't answer that!”
Agitated the Demon tottered within the wards. Causing himself minor wounds with his own claws while trying to drown out Godfrey's crying and tears. “Can't you stop that crying? You're driving me nuts here!”
Wiping at his tears Godfrey sobbed, “It's hopeless! I thought I had found a solution and now you tell me the cure is worse than the aliment.”
Pulling a hankie from a small cloud of brimstone he said, “I'm a demon. Were you maybe expecting good news? Buddy, Kid, just let this whole thing go. I'll tell my supervisor there was a technicality and I had to let you go. This will never get to your permanent records. How's that? We'll just call this a visit. All you have to do is end the spell. I get to go back to my book and you don't spend all of eternity as a guy. Alright? ” he asked dabbing at the ichor running down its face.
Godfrey standing up demanded, “NO! You will help me! I've learned enough magic to summon you. Teach me the transformation spell and I'll use it myself.”
Taking care of its last wound, it flicked the hankie into the air where it was consumed in short-lived ball of fire. “Kid” the demon sighed, “I can't do that in any reasonable length of time short enough for my supervisor to buy the “technicality” angle. The longer you keep me here the more danger you're in from having “consorting with demonic agencies” hitting the Big Book. Please Kid, let this go. Alright?”
Dejected, his last hope dashed, Godfrey hung his head and gathered up the ancient text. Reading the old words until the wards blazed bright once more he fought his tears. As they died the demon was gone leaving only an odor of brimstone behind.
He'd hoped so much that this would be his answer. After putting out the banks of candles he poured himself a drink. With the wind-driven ice and snow striking the windows like a snare drum, he downed the drink in a single burning gulp.
The demon settled back into his creaky, uncomfortable recliner, pulled out its glasses and looked for the page he’d marked. Just as he found it, a swirl of sulfurous fumes enveloped him signifying he was being summoned... again.
He'd waited for this book for months and Hell being hell they always got their copies last. Now he was at the climatic fight scene and twice he'd been summoned. “Now what?” he grumbled.
However to his surprise, he did not appear in front of his supervisor or surrounded by a pentagram. Looking about it took him a moment to recognize Purgatory. It was as close to the GATES one such as he could venture and even then, he couldn't stay long.
“I want to thank you for what you did. You didn't have to and I must admit I'm curious as to why,” said a melodious voice behind him.
Twisting around and finally having to stand by his chair to see, the demon half-shielded his eyes, against the shining angel standing there. “Oh yeah I'm a real good Samaritan alright. Speaking of which, you have a hell of a way of showing your appreciation. I'm sure my bosses are just going to love this little pow-wow we're having. Thanks a lot,” he snorted.
Smiling and glowing even brighter the angel replied, “This is off the record. What you did for Godfrey prevented his damnation. In exchange the front office is willing to bend the rules. Call it a visit if you will. The question still stands. Why did you go out of your way to help him?”
Taking a longing look back at his book the demon sighed, “Don't play dumb here sister. You know exactly how and why I ended up taking the “LOW” road. I got handed that summons precisely because of the nature of my sin. It was meant to rub salt into that wound. The Kid isn't a bad sort. He just has his judgment a little twisted because he's hurting that's all. That’s something I know all too much about.
“So maybe I could've let him stumble over his own wards or let him make a bad decision based on not thinking things though. Either one would've been easy and I could've yanked him straight down 666 flights of stairs. I didn't. And if my or your boss has a problem with that, tough. This was supposed to make me hurt and if I catch hell because of spitting in eye of my tormentors, so be it.”
The Angel softly objected, “But you didn't damn him, even when all you had to do was nothing.”
His tail lashed as the demon replied, “Yeah, so he gets another chance, but that doesn't mean squat. Too many hurting like him take the other way out. I gave him the chance I didn't have. If only I'd known what I know now…”
Bowing her head in remorse the Angel said, “Freewill is a double-edged sword. It gives you the opportunity to succeed, but also the chance to fail. The difference is that forgiveness is always there for those who have the strength to ask for it.” Looking up she met his eyes.
“No, not for me. Remember I'm damned for taking a life?” He shook his antlered head slowly.
“Will you come with me?” she asked, extending a graceful hand.
Blinking in surprise while glancing at his own black razer tipped claws, “Go with you? Where? This is Purgatory. There are the escalators up and the express elevators going all the way down.”
She just smiled and held out her other hand. “Exactly.”
“Lady, you are nuts! You think it's that easy? Just walk away? My boss is the possessive type you know! I've been damned for my sins! There isn't any redemption for such as me,” he finished sadly.
“Sometimes rules are made to be amended. You say you were being defiant, but you can't hide that you cared about what happened to Godfrey. You cared enough to risk even more attention from your tormentors. That means something. Besides, it's almost Christmas and as I said before the front office is willing to bend the rules. You'll have to spend some time here in Purgatory, but you will lose those,” the Angel replied gesturing to his wings and horns.
With a gentle smile she reached out to him once more.
This time he took her hands.
He steadied himself on his hoofs; they turned and walked away together as the mists closed about them.
Alone in the mist, the battered recliner sat with the open book with its often-nicked pages resting on the frayed arm. Just visible under the opened cover was a empty prescription sleeping pill medicine bottle half stuffed under the thin cushion. Abruptly the chair erupted into a ball of flames and was no more.
Godfrey had pushed his sofa back to where just a few hours ago magic had burned. He was unable to sleep because of the storm outside and his own sad disappointment with the night's events. Curling up with a blanket, he was watching the only station his TV could get with this early winter storm causing problems even with the cable.
Well at least the demon had gotten his drafty apartment toasty warm, even if it did stink like hell. Pouring the last of the liquor into his glass, he saluted George Bailey in “It's a Wonderful Life.” At least he had that kooky town of characters to help him when everything looked its worst.
What did Godfrey have? The wrong body, a stack of magic books that could get him damned for eternity, and an apartment a month behind on the rent. Well, maybe he was overstating things a little. Ever since he'd found that Web site with this list of books, he'd pretty much ignored everything, parents and friends included, for a chance to achieve his so longed-for dream.
Tomorrow he'd call home and see about visiting for the holidays. The movie was winding down to its end. George's daughter Zuzu was saying “Every time a bell rings an angel get his wings.”
Just then Godfrey heard an odd chiming. Turning down his set, he couldn't figure out just what it was or where it was coming from with noise from the blizzard outside. Then just as unexpected, it ended. The movie ended and half drunk Godfrey turned off the set. Whatever that chiming had been it definitely hadn't been a bell ringing. As sleep claimed him he thought, ”Nope, no angels had gotten any wings around here tonight.”
If magic is just science that hasn't been explained yet, can the magic return? Find out with Hope when she finds her new life.
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Here is the usual disclaimer. This story contains scenes of cross-dressing, and other transgender themes and if these would offend you please don’t read any further. I had no intention of writing yet another holiday story but my muses had other ideas. Thanks to H.E.R. and Karen P. for the help in editing and proofreading.
Enjoy everyone!
A New Life Year
By grover
A few thousand years had passed since one of its kind’s last visit from the edges of the Ort Cloud to the blue skies of the third planet. Tumbling slowly in the air-less void between worlds the huge comet-like body made its relentless way to Earth.
Science hadn’t yet named it, but had inferred its existence. Some called it Dark Matter or shards of the beginning of everything. Most simply it was a mystery.
Mysteries are the bread and butter of the world of science, chief among them are the question where do we come from, how did we begin. The Theory of Evolution and legends of creation and the Gods were all seeking to answer that mystery of our existence.
Darwin’s Theory was elegant and logical, but from the beginning some didn’t agree with him. They believed that the evidence didn’t entirely support the Theory.
These nay Sayers were ridiculed as the Theory became dogma. Their objections that the fossil record seem to indicate not a steady expansion of species but a sudden increase followed by a slow decline. Alas, dogma always trumps reason. (Source: James Hogan “Kicking the Sacred Cow)
Hank finished grouting the last of the bathroom tiles and now nothing was left of this job, but the clean-up and the pay-check. He tiredly pulled his balding six foot plus self up off of the floor. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be now that Hank was pushing sixty. He’d had to push a little to be done before New Years, but he’d needed the money. Being self-employed meant that Hank was the boss and could set his own hours, but also meant irregular work and pay.
Where did these idiots learn to drive, cursed Hank on his way home, as he herded his second-hand work van along the snowy streets. The forecast for tonight said it was to clear by evening, but you couldn’t prove it by him. The unreliable heater fan rattled as if on it’s last breathe and the worn wipers were fighting a losing battle keeping the windshield clear enough to drive.
He had plans to go out tonight for New Years with some of his close friends. They’d made plans weeks ago to meet at John’s place. There no one would point or stare and it was far enough away from the neighbors that they could get a little rowdy. That is if he could get home alive!
Hank laid out HER clothes and prepared the bubble-bath that would begin the ritual of letting her be the woman she really was inside. After spending hours on his hands and knees, even with the pads, he was very sore and the bath would be the next best thing to the Havens.
The sensual pleasure of dressing em-fem was a magic of it own for Hank. Each article of clothing and brush of make-up let the mask of Hank fade away and brought Hope alive once more. Hope knew that she really wasn’t convincing, but the support of her friends both here at home and around the world by the web, gave her hope that some day she could find peace. Sadly too many others had taken the dreadful solution of ending their lives. One of her Goddesses tenets was do no harm. Taking her life would bring pain to her friends and family not to mention harm to her!
Normally a comet would begin to leave a tail as the Sun heated the frozen water and mud causing the brilliant display we know as a comet’s tail. This wasn’t a normal comet. Science had discovered what they called Dark Comets just because they don’t reflect and are very difficult to spot.
If an astronomer had been looking at the right time they might had seen it pass though the Outer Van Allen Belt. The radiation energizing positive and negative particles within the Not-comet and Earth’s gravity caused the apparent solid mass of the Not-comet to split apart much like Levy-Shoemaker Nine had when it had struck Jupiter.
Huge multi-ton fragments flew away from each other repelled by differences in their particle charges and then they too spilt into smaller chucks of Not-comet. The now swarm of positively and negatively charged Not-comet pieces flooded the Van Allen Belts with radiation. Acting much the same as a Solar Flare, communications began experiencing problems. The major difference was experts can forecast Solar Flares and prepare for them; this had no warning at all.
Hope had gotten a ride from her friend Rhonda who was also dressed em-femmed. They lived far enough north that occasionally they saw the Aurora Borealis, but tonight it was truly a brilliant display. Hope gave a silent thanks to the Goddess of the Silver Circle for the omen of the New Year as the Lights danced in the winter sky.
Hope and Rhonda were greeted at the door by John, their host, already well into his celebration for the New Year. Their fellow guests was a mixed-bag of people but no one cared how you were dressed or what your orientation was as long as you could hold up your end of the conversation. With smile and hugs they exchanged well wishes and hellos.
Hope was too busy talking to a fellow pagan to notice that the TV that someone had left on to catch the ball drop in New York, that its reception had gotten worse and worse till it was nothing but white noise.
Aboard the International space-station they had a front-row seat to an incredible light show. Most of the fragments were below them, but the rain of dazzling lights falling to earth was riveting. Alarms forced them to the safe-hole where the radiation couldn’t penetrate. They left every device they had recording, hoping to preserve some of the phenomena as fragment after fragment starburst like a fireworks display sending more sparks down to mother Earth.
While the ISS was able to escape damage the communication satellite constellations orbiting Earth wasn’t as fortunate. Gaping holes were torn in the networks, which finally took the rest of the orbital communications off line. The satellites that weren’t physically harmed then had to deal with the charged particles that overloaded and damaged systems.
The few scientist and military organizations that became aware of the crises couldn’t communicate with anyone else because of the grid being down so all they could do was to shut down their remaining equipment to preserve it from power surges and go outside to watch like everyone else.
Over much of the world Aurora Borealis and Aurora Australis performed their veiled dance as the world watched. Not so for power companies, who fought a losing fight as the charged particles overloaded systems and more and more grids started to go down.
Like their distant caveman ancestors of millennia past, all the people of Earth could do was to sit and watch the skies. The achievements of electrical generation and of speaking at moments notice to someone on the other side of the planet was for the time being lost.
The party was in full swing when the lights went out. Taking it stride John got out emergency candles, and went out for more wood to build the fire higher. Hope had drifted outside herself, and was enthralled by the incredible night sky with the lights from the city out. If you looked hard enough you could see the pinpoint lights falling from the heavens.
In the years to come many would debate what happened next and it would be hotly disputed. Instead of burning up in the upper atmosphere each piece continued to split until each small speck had just a single charge. This white hot fog of particles were suddenly cooled and they formed unique crystal like patterns not unlike snowflakes, but this Not-comet debris wasn’t ice.
Seemingly ignoring Laws of thermal dynamics the rain of sparks slowly altered into a fall of silver snowflakes and began the last part of their journey to Mother Earth. It wasn’t an even distribution, although so nearly so, many would declare it a divine act, a miracle.
Hope saw the first silver flakes as they hesitatingly spiraled down from the winter’s sky. Her eyes were alight in the Aurora Borealis as the first ones landed and disappeared in a sparkle of tiny lights. Hope not knowing what it was still couldn’t prevent herself from trying to catch one. In the chilly breeze it was like trying to grab a soap bubble!
When it gently landed on her palm it settled softly and then soundlessly POP with sparkles. Hope jumped expecting to feel pain but instead a vaguely pleasant tingle. Her eyes wide, she giggled and found that if she got her hand close it would follow it. Soon she had a small trail of glowing flakes dancing at her finger tips!
Others had joined her and a few were dancing leaving a meteor trail of silvery flakes behind them. The deck of John’s home was not the place to dance in heels so braving the cold and the embarrassment Hope usually felt when trying to dance, kicked them free to dance under the northern lights. Her friend Rhonda had joined the intrepid few out in the cold her face clearly visible in the glow.
The nature of the comet was a subject that learned men and women would argue over for decades. What did it do; where did it come from; were there more of them, and how to duplicate it? The simplest child knew what happened that night. It was the night the lights danced and magic fell from the skies.
Hope was soon in the center of a storm of silver as they fell to the Earth harder in a blizzard of light. The exhilarating tingle and feeling of being one with everything was a blessing from the Goddess herself! Lost in the joy of the dance all thought of being cold or of embarrassment was forgotten.
Some inside felt frighten of this strange sight, but most were envious of the obvious pleasure and joy of the dancers and went out to join them. As the flakes fell none that they touch were unchanged. For some the changes were clear as Rhonda sat weeping in joy hugging her very real breasts to herself knowing that against all odds she was finally whole. Others the changes were subtle as an illness was cured or old painful injuries healed themselves.
The fine small flakes drifted into everything and everywhere. Only the most airtight rooms kept them out. All over the world in light of the sun or in the dancing veils, the silver snow fell to the Mother Earth and she welcomed the tears from the stars.
The last flake drifted down from the sky finally ending a journey that began far beyond far Pluto’s orbit landing as softly as a mother’s breathe bringing its gift of change.
Hope tiredly hung her head as her rich brown hair blew into her eyes. She no longer needed the wig she’d worn here nor the breast forms, but now Hope needed to rest. She felt whole and happy, knowing that now her body matched her soul.
Paying the snow on the ground no mind, bare-footed Hope went towards John’s still dark house to meet with the rest of her friends as they too started to come in. Hope and Rhonda hugged each other in undisguised joy that the Goddess had answered their prayers. As they walked together, unnoticed small white flowers bloomed in her footsteps as Hope and her friend walked into the beginning day of the New Year and into a new life.
The end. Happy New Years!
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Ira and Mae in their golden years, still find love and magic in Christmas.
Hello, this is my second story, and I am still a novice wrestling with grammar and spelling errors. This story does deal with DEATH during the holidays. If you feel this would upset you, please discontinue reading. There are mild Transgender themes and cross-dressing so the same applies for this as well! Once more, warm hugs goes to Angel and Karen P. without whom this story wouldn't be half as good.
Christmas Dreams in Twilight
By Grover
Ira was waiting to die, as he sat in the front room of the old folk’s home. It was after all, what an old folk’s home was for. No matter what new fangled name the kids in charge called it now days. He’d gotten his four score and plenty more besides, and still was able to make his way with the help of his cane, regardless what his children thought.
The biggest regret, he had was that he had to give up his clothes. Oh no, not the suits and ties, those he wouldn’t miss. It was the others things, that no one had ever found, made of silks and satins, wonderful dresses, slips, panties, other items forbidden to him.
He couldn’t outfight his kid’s wishes, and they had remorselessly bullied him into moving here. Packing up his special things, he’d placed them with his wife’s old stuff. She was gone now, but in all of their years of marriage, she’d never said a thing, but he knew that she had suspected.
That was where Ira first saw Mae. They brought her in with a wheelchair that swallowed up her small frame. She was obviously unhappy, but made polite sounds when her son left her sitting there.
Ira didn’t make friends easily, for too many of his had died already. Despite a voice that told him that no good could come of it, he stamped over to her on his three legs anyways.
“What are you in for?” he grunted to her.
A fierce spark still burned in her eyes in spite of her condition as she spat out, “For being too Damn old.”
He nodded, “That’s a capitol offense these days.”
“And you?” she asked him.
“Inability to take care of myself, and too hard headed to listen to idiotic children,” he said with a straight face.
“Inability to take care of yourself must be why you’re here, because being the hard headed is just good sense,” she replied.
“I’m Ira,” he introduced himself.
“Hi Ira, I’m Mae,” she said back.
It was the beginnings of those strange oddball friendships, which baffled people. He was standoffish, and she had a tongue that made acid seem like sugar. The only one of the staff glad to see them hit it off was Nurse Harriet Callahan. Her nickname was Dirty Harry, because her section received more than its share of hard-cases like Ira and Mae. She got the dirty jobs and did them well. Nurse Callahan got the reward for doing a dirty job well, another dirty job. The truth was Nurse Callahan was glad to see Ira taking an interest in life around him and she liked Mae’s spirited altitude.
The truth of their friendship was a whole lot stranger than anyone could guess, and it wasn’t until Ira’s birthday that he found out the kind of friend Mae was.
Ira was dreaming, today was his birthday, never mind which one. So many had come and gone that he’d stopped counting long ago. Mae had gotten him a cupcake with a candle with the help of Dirty Harry. They each had given him a peck on the cheek and a hug. Mae had mystified him by winking as if she knew something he didn’t.
In Ira’s dream, he was a little girl at her birthday party and she was fixing to blow out all of the candles on her cake. Then to her surprise, Mae walked into the room. Not Mae as he knew her, but a younger more alive Mae, that was full of life. Ira looked at Mae wondering what she was doing in this dream, when she winked at her! Mae looked around her with interest and then back at Ira, with humor in her voice she said,
“I was going to give you another present, but now I see that I have to change my plans.
Ira blinked nervously this seemed so real! Mae reached behind her back and like a magician, pulled out a brightly colored box wrapped up in bows. With a flourish Mae, offered the present to Ira.
Unsure, Ira took it.
“Go ahead and open it. It’s nice, I swear it,” making an old gesture from their youth.
Unable to contain herself Ira tore open the wrappings and found the most gorgeous pink dress of lace and ruffles. She was so happy that her eyes filled with tears.
“Happy birthday Ira, or is it Irene?” asked Mae softly.
Irene somehow managed to nod yes.
Mae smiled and said, “Come on then! There still is cake and ice cream!” Needing no more urging, Irene joined Mae as they enjoyed the wonders forbidden to them awake.
The next morning, Ira was so confused. The dream had been so real. The cake and ice cream had been so good he could still taste it. When he met Mae that morning, he still wasn’t his usual self. They were playing cards and he hesitantly, thanked her for helping make his birthday one to remember. He almost didn’t, but then added that he’d a dream about it last night
Mae took his much larger hand in hers, and said so softly only he could hear, “I know.”
In her eyes, he saw his answer, and he asked, “How did you do that?”
“I told you that I was in a bad accident, and that it had nearly killed me. The doctors were ready to wheel me out to the garden so I could be with the rest of the vegetables. Somehow, I came out of the coma but I was really banged up good; I was paralyzed from the waist down, and never fully recovered completely from the other injuries. I pitied myself, but discovered that although I had lost so much that I had gained too. I could visit other people’s dreams and when I did, the dream became real somehow for both of us,” Mae revealed to him.
“You’ve been such a good friend, I wanted to do something nice for you so I did,” Mae said defiantly.
Ira said half-fearfully. ”Doesn’t it bother you, what you found out in my dream.”
“Twenty years ago it might have, but last night all I saw was a person enjoying a birthday party. Nothing wrong with that,” Mae smiled.
Blinking away tears, Ira said, “Thank you for the present!”
“You’re welcome,” replied Mae blinking away her tears as well.
After they had dried their tears, Mae asked, “Ira can I visit you again? I mean, visit Irene?”
Ira just nodded as he grasped his friend’s hand.
Together they relived many happy times of days past, Fourth of Julys, birthdays, Christmas, and many other joyous times, sometimes as children, adults, or teens, but always as friends.
The year came and went and Mae grew weaker. The time came that she couldn’t leave her bed, but that didn’t stop their friendship. In the day, Ira stayed with her, talking, or sometimes reading to her. In their dreams, as Irene, she gave comfort and love to her friend. Mae’s son came by sometimes, but never stayed for long.
Nurse Callahan knew that time would soon decide Mae’s future, but was concerned that when Mae passed, Ira would soon follow. Her condition never got worse, causing Mae to be transferred to the hospital, but always just on the brink.
Irene and Mae’s friendship deepened and grew in their shared dreams, while fall faded to the gloomy days of winter. In no time at all, Christmas was upon them.
Ira’s children sent a card, but said that they would try to visit in the New Year. Mae’s son came by with a vase of flowers, but didn’t stay long, when a disgruntled Mae told him, that in the old country cut flowers were for funerals.
The best gifts the two of them received were framed photographs, Nurse Callahan had taken of them together, and the ones they gave each other in their dreams and kept near their hearts.
Christmas morning came and Ira was reading to her when he drifted off to sleep. Irene opened her eyes to a wonderful Christmas tree decorated the old way with stringed popcorn and with large old fashion lights. A small mountain of gifts was stacked underneath it in a sea of bright paper and colorful bows. A beautiful Mae greeted her with a rich mug of coffee denied them while awake, and together they took turns opening presents or nibbling on pastries.
Relaxing in front of the fire after Christmas dinner, Mae took Irene’s hand, and she feared that it was time for Mae to go on. Irene would miss the time she could be herself, but would feel a void without her dear friend.
“Irene,” said Mae softy, “It’s time.”
With tears welling up in her eyes, Irene sobbed, “What will I do without you?”
Mae handed her a hand full of tissues and with a sigh said, “Let’s have none of that. It’s time for YOU to go on!”
Irene confused asked, “Me?” Searching her friend’s face with suspicion, Mae’s smile gave her away. “You’ve waited for me somehow haven’t you,” Irene accused Mae.
Mae nodded, “Another part of what I got because of my accident, I guess.” She gave Irene a big hug, and said wistfully, “I’ve had dreams of my own, of Angels chiding me for being late!” She giggled, “Mama always said I’d be late for my own funeral, and she was right!”
Holding her friend tight, Mae said, “All these months you’ve stayed with me when I couldn’t leave that damn bed. What kind of friend would I have been, not to stay a short while with you?”
“So, I’m dying?” asked Irene.
“Your heart, I think. I’m not a Doctor you know,” said Mae.
Irene stood up and smoothed her dress. She’d thought about dying a lot since, Mae had gotten so ill. Now that it was her turn, she simply felt that it was time to go. Opening the front door for Mae, she found a Glorious White Christmas lay before them. Hand in hand, the two friends walked into the crisp air of a Christmas evening into the setting sun.
Back in a nursing home, an old man and old woman’s heart gave their final beats, and together their spirits rose on high.
Harriet arrived back at home sad after working an extra-long shift. Her relief had called in ill, and she worked Christmas Eve night, and Christmas morning. Two of her charges had passed that morning and as she thought they might, they went together. When she found them, the gentle smiles on their faces, took away some of the ache that came when the Dark Angel took one of hers.
Everyone who works with the ill has his or her own way of dealing with that Angel of Death. Hers was to seek comfort from friends and family, so she spent the morning emailing and talking on the phone to them. Mr. Whiskers, who after he’d demanded to be fed and pampered, knew that his mistress needed to be distracted from the events of her previous day, so he purred and lap-sit doing his part for her.
Stroking her cat’s soft fur and hearing his soft rumble, she knew that it was time to try and grab a bit of sleep. Snuggling deep into her bed, as Mr. Whiskers kept a careful watch, sleep sooner than she thought claimed her, gently guiding her to the hall of dreams.
A wonderful Christmas Dream, of trees decorated with popcorn and not plastic with a sweet mug of coco and marshmallows in front of an inviting fire. Best of all, the visit by two beautiful new angels, with their arms full of happy gifts, and smiles of glad tidings foretold.
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This was home! But not the abandoned rundown ruin it’d become years ago, but the one from his childhood memories.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional A big thanks goes out to Paula my understanding spouse. Another big thanks goes to Cathy who pre-read this. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
grover
Russell wearily turned his head, watching his neighbor cough his life away. They were both patients in the charity ward. Oh, no one called it that, but that was what it was just the same. The rooms were less bright and the furnishings were old and worn. The hospital administrators could be sure no one here would complain. Besides why bother? They were all here to die. Cancer was rotting out his insides, while it was busy destroying his neighbor’s lungs.
If he had the energy to cry, he would have. Russell had wasted his life, and now soon he would die leaving nothing behind him; no family, no friends, and only a black hole of debt. And shame, he couldn’t forget the shame and guilt even after all of these years.
His tired old hands clenched themselves as a soft moan escaped him as he fought to not think about the old hurt. As they tighten into fists, he remembered that strange stone that crazed old woman had pressed into his hand earlier that day. He’d forgotten he still had it, but now its solid warmth seemed to flow up his arm into chest relaxing the panic and anxiety that lived there.
With no family, often volunteers and other came by to try and cheer them up. Why they even tried was beyond him. Some wanted to save his soul from hell, while others were trying to assuage some guilt of their own. However, the old woman from this morning was different.
In bygone days she’d've been called a gypsy, witch, hippy or perhaps all three with her colorful scarves and jewelry. Age had bent, but not broken her despite her gray hair and winkles. She’d stopped by each one of his fellow inmates speaking and sometimes getting laugh from them; no matter they were at death’s door.
Him, she’d just stopped and stared at saying nothing as he did his best to ignore her.
She made him jump as she pushed the round smooth stone into his hand. “This is a dream stone. Tonight when you sleep, all of your dreams will come true,” she said in tone that caused his worn-out heart to beat faster.
“In case, you haven’t noticed, it’s a little too late for that. I’m dying. We’re all dying. What can a dream do about that?” He rasped back.
The old woman gave him her evil eye. “We all begin to die from the moment we start to live. Ah, but now dreams?” She leaned in close and whispered eerily, “Those are for forever. They don’t die unless the dreamer kills them.”
Before he could think of a reply, she turned and was gone with a swirl of her tie-dyed skirts.
The distractions of his neighbors, nurses, and his own pain soon made him forget her words and the stone, until now.
The pills he’d taken had begun to numb the pain and were bringing their welcomed unconsciousness with them. Anything to escape what his life had become. Overcome by exhaustion, disease, and a life gone wrong, his eyes slowly closed.
Feeling the warmth of the sun on his cheek, and the wind as it gently ruffled his hair, Russell’s eyes flew open. Shock shook him as he looked around. It wasn’t possible!
This was home! But not the abandoned rundown ruin it’d become years ago, but the one from his childhood memories. The farmhouse’s white paint and its green roof stood out cheerfully among the cedar trees planted around it. There was the stream running through the meadow and the patch of woods whose trees, he’d climbed and played upon as a child.
Trying not to hyperventilate, Russell looked down at himself. He was wearing a pair of much patched hand-me-down overalls from one of his brothers. Shirtless and barefoot, his skin was covered in freckles from spending so much time outdoors. His red hair was sun-bleached into shiny copper and long from not being cut during the summer.
His legs collapsed out from under him as tears ran down his face. This was all from a time that was long gone. It had been the last happy summer of his childhood. Before his body went awry and grew the wrong way. Before he could no longer ignore that he was different and worse neither could anyone else. The memories, all the pain, and the misery of what came in the years afterwards had him in tearful sobs.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder, but his sorrow so consumed him he couldn’t look up.
Softly a voice asked, “Are you alright?”
His eyes red and his throat sore from crying, Russell glanced up. Wondering, he had to blink a few times to grasp what he was seeing.
A young girl his age stood there. She was dressed much the same way as he, but had instead a faded pink shirt on under her overalls. Colorful girlish patches covered the repairs on hers rather than plain squares of faded blue demin on his. Her hair was mass of red-gold curls and she was splashed with freckles like him.
She was him.
He stared at the impossible vision standing before him smiling holding a basket half-full of flowers.
Stuttering Russell said unbelieving, “You’re me. I mean the other me, Wendy.”
She gave him a little giggle, “Of course I am, silly. Who else would I be?”
Feeling completely overwhelmed, he hugged himself shaking his head in denial and confusion.
Wendy knelt down holding him.
Looking up at her again he asked, “How is this possible? I, we, was eaten up with cancer and dying. I’d messed up our life and …”
He tried to continue but her fingers gently touching his lips stopped him. “Shhh, I don’t know anymore than you why we’re here, but I don’t want to hear you blaming yourself for what happened to us. You did the best you could. Yes, you did try to hide me from the world and even from yourself, but I was scared and hiding too. Understand?” She asked.
Still confused, he nodded.
Then she smiled in a way that made the summer sun seem all that much brighter. “I do know that we’re home! The meadow is full of wildflowers, and the woods and stream are cool when the day gets too hot.” She hopped to her feet, basket in hand. Spinning in a circle, her curls bouncing, she giggled happily. “I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but I’m going to make the most of it! Will you come with me?”
Russell looked at her hand held out to him, then up all about at the beautiful clear blue sky above and the life flowering in abundance around them. She was right. Who knew how long their escape from that miserable place would last.
Smiling he took her hand. Together they helped each other over the split wood fence, and hand in hand they ran through the green, green grass and bright flowers as the butterflies fluttered about them. Two pairs of steps soon joined into one as a happy child ran joyfully in the season of the sun.
At the window a young new father stared awed at the small child wrapped in pink. For hours, he’d waited, fretted, and prayed, worried to death, because his wife’s delivery had been filled with complications. Somehow his prayers had been answered, and now they both were resting. The Doctors said the worst part was over now and things looked good for mother and child.
Standing nearby an old woman wearing a volunteer’s badge stood by smiling at the new life before her. “If you believe, dreams can come true. Miracles can happen.” She said.
The young man nodded, thinking she was speaking to him, but his eyes never left his new born daughter. So intense was his wonder, he didn’t notice the flower laying next to her at first. He was just happy his family was alive and well, but who put that wildflower in her crib he wondered?
Should she make offer to the woman, the furry one wondered? Then, to her complete astonishment, the woman and the red-man simply vanished! It wasn’t in her nature to curse or bemoan her ill fortune. She simply decided that if they were watching the entombment of the box that they would be back, and when they came back she would make offer to the woman, for it wasn’t right for one of the sisterhood to be without a protector.
-----
A faithful sorceress's familiar waits and watches for her next mistress to be. Girl is she in for a suprise!
Miki: Keeping the Faith, A Whateley Academy Fan fiction
This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,
(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."
This story comes courtesy of Grover, he has generously offered it for use in my Timeout Fan Fic. It’s not bad for a first attempt — better than mine -- you should have seen Glacier Girl as first posted. I find the little furry prankster is growing on me. Thanks to Ken _J, Amelia_R, Sir Lee, and others who’s insights on the Whateley contributed to this unexpected aspect of my heroine Joanie. As always, your constructive criticism and advice helps me improve as a writer and to make the story better. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.
Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. Some content is of an adult sexual nature, so be warned. Mind you, it’s pretty tame — I’m such a tease.
Timeout 4
By Grover with assistance by John from Wauwatosa
Editorial ennui by Itinerant
GEBPR-ized by Janet Nolan
Chapter 1, Keeping the Faith.
The future site of Whateley Academy, Dunwich New Hampshire
November 01, 1857, 4:30PM
The small, forlorn figure sat up on her haunches in the chilling rain of the New Hampshire fall, unnoticed by the rest of the funeral mourners. Her whiskers twitched in sorrow as the first clods of wet dirt struck the coffins. It was as if even the heavens cried at the sacrifice made by the fallen who were being honored one last time by their grieving peers. Of the six who had prevented an ancient evil from arising once more, only the witch from the land of mists remained. Dressed in the black of mourning, the witch and the servant and retainers of those who had given so much, gave them one last salute.
Her fur soaked by the unforgiving rain, the furry one mourned what had been lost. One of the last of the order of the sisterhood — the Mistress Kushala, her mate and companion, The English, the huge blue tattooed man that tasted of spices from faraway lands, the red man who displayed countless miseries in the lines of his face, and lastly the small one in the soft silks of the always kind word; they were all dead.
Her name, even her appearance, changed from mistress to mistress. She had become an embodiment of magic after being passed down from mother to daughter for uncounted years since she was first called. Ears flickering, she remembered the long trip from India to this place of sorrows on the black-smoke belching man-raft. Auguries had foretold of a grim event and it could not be denied. A man of a dark soul would try to bring an old evil back from where it had been exiled.
Councils debated, and only the Mistress Kushala had the skill and knowledge to help prevent this unmentionable act. The Mistress was the last of the Sisterhood, an old sect of women mages from a forgotten valley in the land of India. Her mate was the slim foreigner that the Mistress called ‘her English’, who against all odds had swept her off her feet. Her English had no powers other than his keen eye and the sword of moon silver he kept hidden in a cane of ash wood, but he had sworn that he would share her fate.
The furry one recalled the pride and happiness when the Mistress had finally conceived, insuring that the Sisterhood would continue and that there would be a child for her to teach and love. Love was the most important portion of her work for the Mistress. Certainly, to act as a guide and partner in searching out the mystery of magic was a part of the furry one’s life. But, the one duty that ruled over all was to help prepare the children of her Mistress for the sometimes traumatic changes that came with attaining the Sisterhood. The young ones accepted the changes that being so close to powerful magic brings, but the pain that comes from those changes and lack of acceptance from their peers often became too much for them.
So, she became the friend, protector, and jester for her young charges and for her Mistress to be. Protector, for the dark powers were always stalking in the shadows awaiting a chance to prevent one more brave soul from joining the forces of Light. Flashing teeth and claws had struck like lightning, tearing asunder the assassin snake and dark lurkers that slithered passed the wards; all had fallen in the furry one’s devotion to duty. A duty that in the end she -- the protector -- had failed, for the Mistress with her unborn child lay forever silent next to her English.
* * * *
The rain sloughing from the witch’s umbrella didn’t conceal her burden as she went to perform her last act in this tragic play. The engraved box wasn’t much larger than a book, but the price paid by her companions to imprison the darkness within made her struggle with every step. Companions who in the short time that they had together had become friends. Friendships were unusual for those who thrived on secrets and mysteries, but the impossible had happened. So far away from her native Scotland, she marched with a heavy step to one last burial that would have no mourners. With care they had found the best place to lay this nightmare to sleep. The Chinese sorceress with her careful calculations and the native red-man with his visions seen in smoke had prepared a tomb in case one or more of their number fell -- a precaution that had proven to be necessary. The red haired witch was jolted from her thoughts by a small wet bundle of fur that was loping along with her.
~~Poor little one,~~ thought the witch.
It was Kushala’s familiar. With her mistress dead the spark that made it more than a normal animal soon would fade and it, too, would pass, although Kushala had told her with a glint in her eye that her little one was very long lived.
Sloshing across the rain sodden grass, the witch found the hidden tomb that had been prepared. She placed the carved box in the glyph covered stone tomb and spoke the word that would seal it. The spell acted quickly, covering the small dark prison and leaving no clue that the grass had been disturbed. It was over. With that black token buried and warded, no one else would be disturbing that evil one’s exile. Looking around, she could see no sign of Kushala’s familiar -- the last survivor, save for her. She drew a breath and with a sigh said a small prayer to The Goddess for the little one. The witch walked into the west as the last rays of the fall sun broke though the rain heavy clouds.
* * * *
Shaking herself vigorously, she sprayed water from her fur as the rain began to slacken. Sitting solemnly on her haunches, she watched the witch lower the dark filled box into the hole.
~~There it is again!~~
Off and on she had felt as if she and the witch were being watched, but even her keen senses could pick up nothing! Knowing the importance of the secret of the stone hole being kept, she moved warily to pinpoint the scent of her quarry up wind. Stealthily moving among the waterlogged bush, she spied her prey. There were two of them: a woman of reddish-golden hair and a red-man with a broad brimmed hat. Much closer now, she scented a musk that confused her.
~~Were the two mating here?~~
A few more steps taken with care and she found magic! The red-man was shielding them, but they both had magic! But it was the woman’s aura that riveted her attention and caused her whiskers to twitch furiously. It was like the Mistress’! There were differences, but it was very like one of the Sisterhood. She stood stock still -- frozen in indecision. There seemed to be no malice in their actions, but they were definitely observing the witch as she walked into the western sun.
Should she make offer to the woman, the furry one wondered? Then, to her complete astonishment, the woman and the red-man simply vanished! It wasn’t in her nature to curse or bemoan her ill fortune. She simply decided that if they were watching the entombment of the box that they would be back, and when they came back she would make offer to the woman, for it wasn’t right for one of the sisterhood to be without a protector.
* * * *
It seemed that a long time had passed and she was concerned; never before had she been so long without a mistress. Would she begin to fade? It didn’t take her long to find that there were other secrets and mysteries buried not so far away, and like at home the darkness reached out from them to corrupt the small ones. The insects, snakes and other small animals were the targets for the insidious tentacles that would seep past the wards of their prisons. Not to be consumed, but to be lured into weakening that which imprisoned the darkness, to dig and break the wards from the outside, if it could. If not, they were *its* instruments to corrupt men to do it for them. No lie was too vile, no promise too great, if it gave freedom.
For the furry one it was a time of the great hunt! Many darklings fell to her deadly claws and teeth — thus she sustained herself and avenged her Mistress's death! Many legs or no legs at all, they were all prey for her hunger. A multitude of enemies fell to her; none were powerful with magic themselves, but enough that the grain of magic in each helped sustain her. Later, she found the pool in the forest and the guardian there. No words were spoken, but she was allowed there and it, too, aided her survival.
* * * *
And the years passed ... 1878
Still she waited and then, one bright day, the one she awaited returned. If she hadn’t known exactly what to look for, she would never have noticed it. The Sister was here! Madly, she raced across the area which was now an active construction zone. The workmen yelled and cursed at her as she interrupted their labor. A few even threw stuff at her; it was easy to dodge, but it was all slowing her down! The jokester in her couldn’t help but enjoy the trail of confusion in her wake.
There! Behind that wagon was her goal. Leaping upwards into the wagon, she scrambled to the other side, just in time to see the woman disappear again. With her heart beating wildly, the furry one calmed herself. She had been right. The woman from the Sisterhood had returned, although why the woman had waited so long, the furry one didn’t know. All the dutiful animal could do now was wait until she had another chance. She would wait, but she missed being bound to a Sister. The furry one never felt so alone.
* * * *
And the years passed....
There were many younglings about today and, in the way of younglings, some were bad and some were good. None, however, was of the sisterhood even though several had the potential. They were always the shy ones that their peers knew were different and were often picked on. Some managed to pretend quite well that they weren’t different, but still the sadness inside lurked within. She always tried to watch out for them and even befriended some. It was fun to tease them and amaze them with how ‘tame’ she was.
With men-buildings being so near, she couldn’t resist entering and causing mischief. With the ground-keepers, she had an almost adversarial relationship. Others laughed at them when told of the havoc a furry one like her caused and accused them of having an overactive imagination. Several more times the mysterious woman had appeared and just as quickly disappeared. There were more man-buildings now and other dangers as well. It just took too long to reach her before the woman was gone once more.
~~I must be patient. Time is with me, and the woman will return.~~
* * * *
And the years passed ... 1958
The younglings had left; only a few men had remained and they were just doing upkeep. Her ever present tasks of watching for the Sister and hunting darkling took all of her time. To her great amazement one of her favorites, John, from the departed younglings, had given her a name that she had decided to keep, Miki. John’s mother was from a far away land named Okinawa. One of his favorite stories was “Miki Mongoose: The Spirit of Okinawa”. Perhaps one of the reasons for adopting the name was someone finally recognized her as something other than a rat or ferret! Now John and the tasty treats he brought her were no more.
* * * *
And the years passed ... 1966
Today strangers arrived, and she, the woman, reappeared. Miki wanted to race to her before the strangely powerful sister could once more vanish, but her wariness of the strangers prevented her. She could sense that at least one of them was a powerful avatar and her natural instincts told her to be careful. Miki wove though the man-buildings as fast as she dared, but as she feared, the woman had gone.
* * * *
And the years passed ... October 2006
Miki chattered joyfully at the chaos that was about to unfold. She had taken hours to set up the can of paint so that when the door was opened, it would tip over. It was, after all, the man’s own fault. The paint should have been sealed tightly and returned to the small metal man-building where the rest of such things were stored. Where, incidentally, she couldn’t have gotten in to “borrow” it in the first place. Always ready for a jest, Miki watched with interest as paint sprayed over the cursing, angry men.
Mr. Miyagi, the head grounds keeper at Whateley Academy, looked on in dry humor as his paint covered workers chased a furry blur that taunted them onward as they managed to paint part of the shop white. It didn’t take long to stop their mayhem causing chase or to determine who hadn’t replaced the paint for painting the curbs in the paint locker. It did take longer to clean up enough so that the day's work could begin.
*That Woman*, the “Assistant to the Administrator” had demanded that the landscaping in front of Crystal Hall be replanted by the end of the week.
~~A person such as *she* cannot sense how important it is to maintain the surroundings in balance to keep chaos at bay. ~~ Mr. Miyagi thought.
All he could do now was minimize the disruption in the natural order the landscaping work would cause and besides, it did pay the bills.
At least *her* ignorance of “maintaining the balance” means more hours for my staff and me, though perhaps too many.~~, he considered. It was going to take a good part of his staff to get the work done, Mr. Miyagi reasoned. And if that wasn’t enough, several of the trees needed attention after a student altercation.
~~Red flags, green flags -- doesn’t anyone think that seeing railroad spikes embedded in the flora might alarm someone? Well at least that girl with the nice touch with the plants is working after classes.~~
Looking up from his work-pad, Mr. Miyagi raised one eyebrow as the author of the morning’s redecorating stood on her haunches, like her meerkat cousins, on the second level of the loft. The old Okinawan gave Miki a serene, respectful bow of one equal to another.
With a rumble of curses and rough-housing, the crew of laborers finished cleaning up the worst of the paint. Juan, a somewhat pinker color from the paint remover and soap, gasped as he saw his tough old Asian boss bow to that little weasel, or what ever it was; to his amazement, he watched the thing return it! Juan jabbed his nearest neighbor and pointed.
Having given his respects to the mischievous animal, Mr. Miyagi turned and noticed that the shop had gotten quiet, and all his staff were watching him and the strange animal. Miki chattered in amusement and was abruptly gone. With much waving of his work-pad and chiding his staff about the uselessness of today’s workers, Mr. Miyagi herded his staff out. Sparing a last look where Miki had stood, Mr. Miyagi knew that the situation with her was coming to a head. Mongooses weren’t allowed in the United States for they were deemed too destructive to the environment. His department, as well as Morrie and Stan’s, were tasked with keeping pests under control. *That Woman* in Administration had demanded that the mongoose be “removed”, making it clear that dead or alive was fine with her. Mr. Miyagi huffed to himself.
~~Didn’t she find it strange that one small mammal had survived for years on a campus full of some of the most powerful and strange people on the planet? Miki was a minor legend among the workers trying to catch her, but she had caused nothing more than mischief; considering that this was Whateley, the students had often done much worse in the name of joke or jest.~~
In fact, the old Okinawan suspected that she had been here longer than the school. She had a feeling of great age about her despite that unreasonable fondness for mischief. It was his job, after all, to know how to move a bush or a rock to contribute to the serenity of the whole garden. His feelings told him that Miki was an integral part of that whole here, but even Whateley had to obey federal laws. If there wasn’t a really good reason in the animal's favor, like the fate of all creation at stake, the law said that Miki couldn’t be here, that Miki must be destroyed.
* * * *
Time passes ... not so long this time....
Miki’s ears flickered in her annoyance; the scent was right, but the aura wasn’t -- its tell-tale magic was missing. How could that be? Part of the aura seemed right for it revealed the duality that was part of the Sisterhood. Since the younglings had returned many years ago, there had been others that showed that duality and some even had magic as well, but none of them was the woman she had first seen on that sad day so many years ago. It seemed like her, but with no magic. There didn’t even appear to be signs that she was even a student mage, although it was clear that she had significant power. If the mongoose could sigh she would have.
~~I will have to wait....~~
* * * *
Miki scrambled for her life as a paw nearly caught her.
~~Tigers? Here?~~
The cubs reached under the couch for her as she panted for breath. They batted claws at her as she stayed a safe distance away under the couch. Miki had taken to watching the woman closely for months and had come into her room a few times to investigate. She was sure that this Joanie was the woman she had sought for so long, but the aura was still wrong! She had been careless and blundered right into the tiger cubs.
~~Who in their right mind would keep tigers!!?!~~ Now to plan her escape. ~~Tigers indeed!!!~~
* * * *
Long ago Miki had thought that the red-man and Joanie were mated, for her musk was quite strong near him. Now she *knew* that Joanie was indeed the woman of the sisterhood she had first seen on that terrible day in the past and that Joanie’s mate was someone else. Miki could smell his scent and Joanie’s on her clothes, and her aura did the most amazing light show when they talked on the man-box.
All her patient watching paid off one day as she observed a group gathered by one of the older man-buildings. When she saw Joanie with the red-man standing by the large hole the tall man and short man were digging, she was excited. Later, Joanie and the red-man, wearing the exact same clothes she’d seen them in over one-hundred cycles of the seasons before, climbed to the top of the oldest of the man-buildings and disappeared then soon reappeared. Miki watched this discreetly from high in a nearby old tree, her whiskers twitching with joy. They were exactly where she had sensed their presence so many years before. Miki knew without a doubt that she had found the woman from that rainy, sad day of long ago, and Joanie was that woman... Now, how to introduce herself? The tigers were bigger now, and although they would tolerate her to a point they regarded Joanie as theirs.
~~To plan ... but how?~~
* * * *
The insight on how to approach this woman of the sisterhood came to Miki as a product of her faithful watching. When this Joanie had first come to live with these powerful young ones, she had been alone in her room. She seemed happy enough but incomplete, as if she was searching for something. Slowly, Joanie gathered a group around her, much like the ones Kushala had joined with to fight the great evil. They were all powerful in their own ways, though not in magic as Miki knew it. One showed promise as a sorceress -- Lonnie, who in build and grace resembled the lithe Kushala. This Joanie was no Kushala; she resembled the witch from the land of the mists. Miki marveled at the height and long reddish-gold locks of the woman -- she was surely a descendant of one of these tall northern tribes.
But how best to approach Joanie and offer her bond in service? Joanie was like Miki herself, a bundle of mischievous energy, rarely staying in any one spot for long. She’d even left the area for days at a time, but returned unerringly to her room and her group of friends. The clues to approaching Joanie were subtle, but Miki saw them and knew. The increasingly close bond with the changling girl, who’d at first been Joanie’s adversary, was one clue. The fostering of the tiger cubs ~~They *must* be tigers, though Joanie calls them smilodons ... a northerner’s name for tiger?~~ was more proof. The gathering of her group, the powerful young mutants who made glorious sounds while singing with Joanie, was a big clue. They often ate together and sometimes slept together. The conversations on the man-box when Joanie’s aura flashed in that amazing way, and her frequent trips in the metal man-box-on-wheels to the abandoned man-buildings at the big clearing in the woods -- 'the farm' Joanie called it -- were the final proof Miki needed.
~~Mistress is nesting! I am certain. She wishes to be a mother and her current den in the crowded man-building would never do. I must make offer to her soon, if she is intent on conceiving a child. The way she talks with her mate, it will be many children and soon. For one of the Sisterhood to be without the protection of one such as I is unthinkable. Do I approach her here, or at the site of her future nest?~~
* * * *
Miki heard the terrible sounds despite the distance, her keen ears made it unavoidable. It was from the location of Joanie’s new nest -- the 'farm' -- and Miki was fearful for the mistress.
~~Have I waited too long to offer and the dark ones harmed Mistress? Have I failed again?~~
Men left quickly, heading towards Joanie’s new place. Soon they returned carrying an injured human. They were assisted by Joanie.
~~Mistress is unharmed! There still is time!~~
Miki noted the large metal box Joanie traveled in was missing. She kept watch and saw Joanie run off in the direction of her new place. Miki struggled to follow; she was worried. Evil had tried to harm the Mistress and failed; it would strike again. There were many men and their strange devices. It was obvious where the terrifying sound had come from. One of the larger man-buildings was in tatters, though it was hard to see it easily as there were so many men about. Miki saw Joanie leave in a larger metal box-on-wheels which carried Joanie’s damaged box on its back.
Miki spent several productive hours hunting and killing small creatures seduced by evil spirits. She noted that some short distance beyond Joanie's lands was a spot of great evil, a place where death waited -- she vowed to keep a careful watch on that. She would not fail her mistress.
~~Never again!~~she vowed.
Miki turned and made her way carefully back to the place the humans called Whateley.
* * * *
That evening Joanie returned in a much smaller, but far more powerful, box-on-wheels. Miki sensed the joy and almost guilty pleasure Joanie took in the machine.
~~I shall ward this machine to demonstrate my worthiness to the Mistress,~~ Miki thought.
During the night between hunting forays, she guarded the machine. Several small creatures with ill intent approached it, and they ended up feeding the ravenous mongoose. During the day, Miki hid and watched Joanie travel off with one of her group. Joanie returned and, once it was quiet, Miki warded the machine by placing stone cairns at the five points of the star humans often used in conjuring magic. It took much effort and time to stay undetected, and she was tired after, but Miki was pleased with her work.
~~This will let Joanie and those friendly to her approach the machine in full safety, while painfully driving off those she does not know. Her enemies will not get off so lightly. Now I must eat, then I will rest and keep watch. Perhaps later I will hunt again. This took much magic, and the evil in the box knows no rest,~~ Miki thought as she stealthily approached the area of the tomb looking for the corrupted to prey upon.
* * * *
Miki hid under an evergreen bush and watched the machine patiently. Joanie and two of her group, Cheryl and Lonnie -- the one other than Joanie who had magic -- walked to the car. Joanie was about to enter the machine when...
~~You spotted my cairns! You know of my ward. Oh, this is wonderful, Mistress, we can be introduced soon!~~
There was much noise from the man-building she was hiding next to, but Miki could make out part of the conversation between Joanie and her friends. The two women did tests of Miki’s ward while the non-magical one kept watch, Miki approved.
~~This Lonnie is a fine ally to Joanie; her magic may not be strong, but she is skillful for one so young,~~ Miki thought and unconsciously moved into the open.
* * * *
Lonnie stopped, and tapped Joanie on the shoulder. Her eyes were locked on something. The human, Lonnie, spoke.
"Quiet! Look over by the evergreen hedge next to Administration, on the left; that could be it, the magic using animal," Lonnie said softly and in awe, or so Miki thought. Then Joanie spoke.
"Here goes nothing. Hi there, little one! Looking for me?" she called out and turned to face Miki -- not fifty feet away from her.
Miki started to run, stopped, turned, stood up on her rear legs and....
~~Praise be to The Goddess, you recognize me! I wish to make your acquaintance, Mistress,~~ Miki thought and bowed in the formal manner she had seen the humans do so long ago.
"Did you just bow to me, little one? That was... what was that?" Joanie wondered out loud.
"I think that was, or is, someone’s familiar -- an animal that helps a sorceress access her magic and often acts as a bodyguard. I think it was acknowledging you as a sorceress. That is an honor; they tend to be secretive and tightly bonded to their mistress or master. I wonder... there’s a legend of a prankster animal, supposed to be an orphaned familiar, which has lived on the Whateley grounds for decades -- maybe since as far back as the oldest buildings. Ask Dr. Tenent about Miki, this must be her. Wow! I saw Miki! The rest of my magic theory class will be so jealous," Lonnie finished.
Miki did not fully understand what was said as she was not yet bonded to Mistress Joanie, but she knew the years of waiting -- of loneliness -- would soon be over. Miki was happy.
* * * *
To be continued in Timeout 4, Chapters 2 and 3
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The mud fought me for every step, grasping and pulling at my legs, as I fled for my life.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional A big thanks goes out to Paula for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Cathy who pre-read this. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!
The mud fought me for every step, grasping and pulling at my legs, as I fled for my life. My control of my misshapen lumbering body with its asymmetrical limbs was still poor. It was as if very elements themselves found me an abomination, as the looming storm threw its chilling winds in my face, slowing my escape from those behind me who were seeking my death.
Struggling to keep my elevated boot from being taken from me by the ooze, I spared a glance in the darkening gloom behind me. Though the trees I could see the flickers of lights and hear the baying of the hounds. Flashes of lightning gave the approaching willow-wisps the forms of men. I had to have the elevated boot for one leg. Without it to make my mismatched legs somewhat the same length, I would hardly have been able to walk at all. Freeing the boot from the muck, I continue my flight for my life.
I’d hoped that the oncoming storm along with the falling of night would give me time to escape. It was plain to see it was a fool’s gambit. As much as my very soul cried in pain over its imprisonment within this flesh, I could not throw myself upon my pursuer’s metaphorical pitchforks and scythes. No matter my torment, I still fought to live.
Now the element of water assailed me as the first icy fists of rain struck me. Desperately, I searched for something, anything for shelter. With the ground already so muddy, this rain would rapidly turn all this into a quagmire, and slow me even more.
The lightning flashes from the storm about me revealed a tall windmill upon the rise. Shelter it might offer, but little hope. Even the irrational mob behind me would guess where I’d taken shelter, but there was no other choice.
Fighting three of the four elements, earth, wind, and water, I climbed towards my only chance of survival. Any likelihood that this assault by nature would deter the mob from its bloodlust were lost as I heard their shouts and the barks of the hounds coming closer.
Bent over, exhausted by my battle against nature itself, I grasped the stair’s railing as the vanes above me hummed, driven by the storm’s fury. Sudden angry yells gave me the strength of desperation to throw myself at the door. Even though locked and barred, it shattered as I threw myself against it.
Breathing in great grasps, I knew not what to do next. I’d trapped myself. Wearily I looked at the door lying ripped off its hinges. One thing this hulk of mine didn’t lack, was power and size. If I’d the energy to laugh I would’ve. Leave it to a man to decide that such was of importance over aesthetics.
From the moment of my re-awakening full of confusion and angst, it’d been man who’d tormented me. To that mad Doctor and his assistant, to the very body I was trapped within, it was the male of the species that was the cause of my pain and anguish.
Outside, the mob raged as they planned my demise. I could little blame them. After I’d escaped from that dungeon, I’d fled, still confused and befuddled about who and what I was. It’d been playing with that little girl that had unlocked her memories. Unable to stand the pain realization brought with it, I’d thrown the girl from me. Truly, I hoped she was unharmed.
Not so for the monster who’d revived me, revived her. No! He could burn in the deepest darkest hell, for all eternity!
A crash and roar brought me back to my present grim circumstances. Even as the smell of smoke brought back that stabbing fear, an ironic sarcastic laugh tore though me. Fire. Of course it’d be fire. The last of the four elements come to finally end this unwanted second life just as it ended her first. Now those memories had returned the full horrors of being burned alive!
Panic filled my heart. Not again! Oh please dear Lord, not again! Thrashing around, I spied a door set in the floor. Throwing it open …
Insurance investigator James Fisher kicked at the debris from the burned wind turbine. The damn things were expensive, and the owners bloody well wanted to know how it’d caught fire. As things stood, he didn’t think they ever would know the whole story.
The folks of the small town were being very closed mouthed about what had happened. Several people, one of them a child, had reported being assaulted by some disfigured stranger. The local law were also investigating a murder of a doctor that worked for one those stem cell research labs, that might be related.
Like most in his profession, James Fisher had started off as a police detective, and the way the locals were handling the case set his instincts on edge. It was as if they were just doing it for form’s sake, knowing it didn’t really matter. Just as strange was the reaction of the company the scientist had worked for. He’d expect them to be demanding action for a case so ignored, but instead, nothing.
The only interest in the whole affair was that of the turbine’s owners, and the insurance company that’d sent him here wondering what had happened to their 2 million dollar piece of equipment. Suspicious, he’d combed the ruins, half expecting to found a corpse or evidence one had been removed, but had come up empty.
He’d even checked the underground ducting linking this tower with others on its network. Although James had found signs that something had been crawling around down there, he’d discovered nothing conclusive.
What he’d found would make his employers happy, since clearly the building had been broken into and had deliberately been set ablaze. This hadn’t been any sort of accident, but there weren’t any of the usual signs of fraud. It was more like everyone just wanted to forget the whole thing, and damn to what it cost.
Sighing, he started to walked away, but stopped when he thought he heard something. Listening carefully, he looked around but saw nothing. Shrugging his shoulders James trudged back to his rental car. After all, who would be crying out all the way out here.
Mary Noel wondered what had happened to her son this time. He was mostly covered in mud and it looked if his shirt was torn. She knew it was hard on him starting at a new school, but also knew that no matter what had happened, he would just say he fell. Her husband Peter was a good man and husband, but he couldn't completely hide his disappointment in his son's small stature and lack of anything reassembling athletic ability. Peter had been a real jock in school but hadn't let that turn him into a jerk. One of their first fights had been over Paul starting growth hormones. Sighing, “Paul what happen?”
Turning to face his Mom, Paul guiltily looked at the somewhat clean shoes that he had carefully wiped before coming in so he wouldn't leave incriminating tracks. “Hmmm... I fell, Mom. I'm sorry.” He was really hoping she would leave it at that and he would not have to tell her about getting jumped by Jack the Dragon again. Paul had nicked named him ‘The Dragon’, after reading Tolkien's “Hobbit” because Jack reminded him of Smaug. Jack had been held back not once but twice, so he towered over the rest of his fifth grade classmates. Paul who was the smallest of them all had become the dragon's favorite punching bag.
She knew he wasn't telling her the entire truth. Mary suspected that Paul was being victimized by a bully. The problem was, Mary wasn't sure what to do about it. Her jock husband's advice to, "Stand up for yourself and fight back!" doesn't work when you are under a hundred pounds. She felt that was at least part of the reason why her son was being evasive. If she pressed him she could get him to confess but that wouldn't solve the problem.
“If you said you fell, then you fell, but if this happens one more time I'm going to have to get involved, understand?”
Paul tried not to let his relief show. Having to sit though another of his Dad's “You just punch him out and he won't bother you anymore” speeches. Just how was he supposed to do that? Jack was over a foot taller than he was. Paul knew his Dad was frustrated with him for not following his instructions, but he couldn't help it!
“Yes Mom, I'll be more careful next time.”
She folded her arms, feeling the situation with Paul was coming to a head. Peter, the big lunk, was at a loss at what to do. Just like always, when faced with a problem his brains couldn't solve he fell back on bulling his way though. It might work fine on a construction site, but not for problems involving undersized 11 year olds.
“Alright young man, you better get cleaned up before your father gets home. I'll go ahead and wash your clothes, so you had better hop in the bath.”
Paul was ecstatic to be let off the hook this time. “Mom, would a bubble bath be okay?”
She kept her face from smiling back at her son. He had always enjoyed playing with the bubbles, and she had never had the troubles with him that his sister Jackie had given her about baths. It was another omen of the looming trouble with Peter was he thought Paul was too old for bubbles, but had carefully avoided calling it girly in her hearing. He did ask her to stop buying it, and when the last was gone no more would be forthcoming and as a compromise she had agreed. She and Paul had rationed what was left with a miser’s hand. The fact he had asked for it, demonstrated to her more than anything else, that her son, had indeed had a bad day.
“Just as long as you remember that when this bottle is empty there isn't anymore. Yes, you may have a bubble bath.”
Grinning, he quickly ran to the laundry. Mom made Dad change downstairs in there so he wouldn't bring his “Construction site into her living room.” Now, everyone kept extra changes in there to keep from tracking dirt into the house when extra dirty. While hopping on one foot, pulling up his shorts he dropped his muddy clothes in the laundry sink.
Mary started her son's bath, sad that Peter had a point. Paul was growing up and was getting too old for her to baby like she used to. Reaching for the Mr. Bubbles bottle, she was surprised when it felt empty. Had Paul used it all up and not told her she wondered. But that didn't feel right. Suspicious, she tried to open the bottle and had her intuition confirmed when she found she couldn't open the bottle. "Peter Noel!" She swore.
Her husband always over tightened lids and caps, and it didn't take long for her to guess her husband had welched on their compromise. He must have poured the rest out, Argh! Well, two can play that game. She thought they might have some more bubble bath downstairs in the basement where all the yet to be unpacked boxes were being hidden.
As Mary headed for the basement, ‘Oh husband of mine we are going to have a little talk!’ “Paul rinse off your stuff in the sink, I'll be right back.”
Paul answered, “Sure, Mom.” He was washing the gritty dirt down the drain when his eye caught the pink of some of his sister's stuff peeking out of a basket on top of the dryer. Woefully he looked down in the sink at the results of Jack the Dragon pushing him into a mud puddle. It wasn't enough for him to be picked on for being the new kid and being small. Looking over at the so soft flash of pink, he began to wonder if he had even bigger problems. More and more, Paul was feeling that somewhere, somehow he had ended up a boy, when he should've been a girl. Thinking about the troubles with he was having with his Dad right now, he shuddered, considering how Dad would react to news like that!
Mary, watching her step, descended into the cluttered basement. They'd had a pre-closing house inspection that testified that dangers such as termites and radon gas weren't present, but she still smelled something down there. Jackie and Paul said they thought they smelled something as well, but didn't know what... Peter had given them all a patronizing look and said he didn't smell a thing.
Thinking of him reminded her why she was down here in the dungeon. There it was, right there on the shelf, Mr. Bubbles. To her surprise, it was an older looking box, rather than the bottles she always bought, which meant it was something that had somehow been left behind by the previous occupants. The box was just like new, and hadn't even been opened, just an older style. As much as she wanted to shove her beloved husband's face into his high handedness, she wasn't about to endanger Paul. Checking, she saw no signs of tampering or damage to the package at all; no expiration date or shelf-life status was printed on it either.
Opening the box, she sniffed, finding only the familiar scent, and it wasn't caked or anything. Mary, chewing on a lip, decided she would test it first before letting Paul try it, but only because she knew how much he was looking forward to this. Going back up the stairs, she made a promise to herself that Paul would have an entire case tomorrow, right after Peter, unknown to him, got up from the couch where he was going to be sleeping tonight. Shutting the door behind her as she turned off the light, she missed seeing the brilliant pink luminescent ooze that lit up the basement walls.
Paul finished, and tossed the wet clothes into the washer. Making a supreme effort he passed Jackie's stuff without touching it, thinking instead of his coming bubble bath. Bubble bath, Yay! Almost skipping up the stairs, he hurried because he knew they were on the clock. Jackie would be home from school soon, and it was possible she would snitch on them. She had become almost impossible to live with since she started high school, as if that changed anything. He ran into his room to grab clean clothes and then charged to the bath.
Mary followed the directions on the box and almost had second thoughts on seeing just how pink these bubbles were, WOW! She still didn't smell anything but the normal scent, and tested it with her hand. Okay, no irritation or discoloration. Hearing Paul run in, “Young man, you know better than that. No running in the house! Here, put your hand in the suds. If it feels odd, or starts to burn, take it out at once, Okay?”
“Whoa! Now those are bubbles!” They were so pink they seemed to glow. “Sure Mom! Just like with any new shampoo, right? You test it first, and if it's okay, you go ahead and use it. Are you sure this is Mr. Bubbles?” he asked, half afraid that it might be something of Jackie's. If it was, she would be sure to tell Dad, but he knew he'd had enough for two more baths.
She smiled, thinking he was afraid of the girl aspects of using his sister's stuff, although as pink as this stuff was, she would think any male would run for the hills! “No burning, nothing odd?
“No Mom, it's fine.” . He enjoyed the feel of the bubbles and blew them into the air.
“Fine, but if you start to feel anything, get out immediately and call me, understand?” She gave her son a stern glance as she left him. ‘They do grow up so fast’ she sighed as she closed the door.
“Yes, Mom,” Paul rolled his eyes at her back and gleefully splashed into the pink wonderland. Bubbles flew everywhere, as if they had a life of their own. Shooting the door a distrusting eye, he used the bubbles to give himself a bubble hairdo and breasts. It was fun to imagine himself as a her, but the tingling of the bath felt so good after being chilled by his mud bath that he lowered himself down until he was almost submerged in pink. With a smile he closed his eyes while the stresses of the day were swallowed up by pink bubbles.
Mary checked the clock. That son of hers had been up there for nearly a hour. Getting up, she went to chase him out of his bubbles, for the rest of the family would be home soon. Knocking on the door, she called, “Paul, come on and get out now. Everyone is going to be home soon.”
Paul's eyes shot open in alarm. ‘Oh no, I dozed off!’ He clumsily got out of the tub, noticing the bubbles were no longer as pink as before. Feeling a little odd, he toweled off and wondered if he had stayed in too long, for his skin was really tender. “I'm drying off now, Mom!”
Her eyebrows rose, ‘That didn't sound like Paul!’ Taking a deep breath, she knew she should've checked on him earlier. Now he would be embarrassed because she would have to check to ensure he was alright. “Paul I'm coming in to make sure you're okay.”
“Mom!” Paul protested as his Mom walked in.
Mary eyes boggled, “Who are you? Where's Paul?”
There was no sign of her son, just this girl standing there. She was a small, about Paul's height, but with longer, lighter colored hair. Her eyes looked a lot like her daughter Jackie's, except green instead of blue. The expression on the girl's face was one of shock and confusion. That was pure Paul.
‘It couldn't be,’ she thought. ‘Paul was having a bath … Paul disappears … and leaves this girl behind that looks just like his sister at his age.’
“Paul?” she asked uncertainly.
Paul stood there wondering what was wrong with his Mom. Why didn't she know him?
“Yes, Mom. It's me. What's wrong?” he asked, turning to look into the mirror to find out what his Mom was looking at.
Her eyes flew opened in disbelief. That’s me!,’ she thought, touching her face.
The Mr. Bubble box sitting on the sink counter caught her attention. In bold type it read, “Mr. Bubble gets you so clean your mother won't know you, Copyright 1963.”
In a daze, she looked down, “Yep, cleaned it right off.”
There was a thump as her Mom slumped unconscious onto the bathroom floor.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he got to the end of the poorly maintained dirt road with its pandemic of pot holes and twisty ruts. His ancient Chevy's headlights goaded the muggy midsummer night's hoards of flying bugs into maniacal Kamikaze attacks on his rusting piebald vehicle.
With a rattle grasp the worn motor finally died after he'd reached the end of the road near his destination, the glade. He'd known it was the perfect spot after stumbling across it last year, and after months of waffling back and forth had finally decided it was time.
A generous application of Deep Woods Insect repellent kept his welcoming committee of the swamp's blood suckers from spilling too much of his bodily fluids. Grunting as he forced the banged up car door shut; he reached into the open passenger's side window for his old ruck. It had made many a journey with him and it was only fitting that it would make this one as well. Settling it on his back, he pushed pass the thick brush into the tree line.
The thick moist air was alive with the sounds of the summer night. Frogs and cicadas competed to out sing the other in volume and duration filling the forest with their songs. He could see clearly despite it being a hazy night because of the full wet Moon with its Witch's Halo glowing brightly overhead.
How fitting he thought picking his way to the the river bank. Like stepping though a portal into another world as he passed one last Spanish moss covered tree into the glade. A slight breeze coming off the slowly flowing river made the thick humid air bearable and gently chivvied the hungry multi-legged night denizens on their way somewhere else.
Stepping out onto the lush grass on the riverbank he took a deep breath. Indeed it was otherworldly bathed in the colorless soft light from the Moon and its Halo above. The gentle murmer of the river gave the glade a feeling of peace he'd never found anywhere else.
Sighing, he removed a blanket from his ruck and carefully removed his few treasures he had wrapped within. The cheap scuffed plastic knight had once held a poorly rendered halberd until in one of his many moves the top had broken off. He'd taken a hobby knife and carved it into the rough shape of a baseball bat. It'd been a Christmas gift from his brother who seeing his large collection of fantasy books had thought it would be perfect. The small plastic knight with his bat had faithfully stood guard over him and his belongings for many years. Now there was just one more duty for his faithful watchman.
Next his hands found the gleaming globe of his Fey. In actuality it was a Christmas snow globe but that was not why he had purchased it. Winding the music box key underneath the chimes of 'Greensleeves' joined the river's murmer. Within the globe was a small fantasy sculpture of a butterfly winged fairy with her basket gathering flowers. Listening to the Old English song as it played let a tear escape him sitting there on the grassy bank.
Wiping his tearing eyes with a corner of the blanket, he picked up the silky material the globe had been shrouded in. He had brought it while stationed in Korea. It had caught his eye, and he just couldn't resist its beauty. Despite the awkward questions he feared it would bring given the lack of privacy in the barracks, he just had to have it.
Bringing the incredibly soft silk black dress to his cheek it was like holding a small piece of the night as the Moon shone down upon him. With his eyes closed he fought the tears that welled up from inside his heart. Impossible dreams so long denied that they hurt so badly he knew they crippled him even if no one could see. Careful to avoid staining the wonderful dress with his tears he dabbed them dry with the blanket's edge again.
With a deep breath he reached into the ruck his fingers searching for the long hard shape. Even in the warm summer night the metal felt oddly cold. He'd brought it many years before for just one purpose. The Cold Steel tanto was forged of surgical grade tungsten steel patterned on the classical Japanese dagger design. Its keen edge was razor sharp.
Settling himself down cross legged on the blanket, he closed his eyes. He sought to breathe in all the life and beauty about him for one last time. Slowly he drew the dark blade from it's sheath. All he desired was the ever present pain to stop.
“Don't do it Girl.” a strong voice called out from the night.
His eyes snapped opened in fear looking into the darkness for who had discovered him. With his heart racing he tried to think of an excuse to explain why he was here.
Again the voice sounded clear across the moonlit glade, “Don't bother feeding me any line of BS Girl. It's clear to me what you're intending this night. You're not the only damned soul to have dealings with Old Scratch. What I want to know is why you're making it so easy for him to collect his payment?”
Peering into the dark he could see an old beat up flat bottom boat with a young black boy at the helm, but it was the silvered haired old man standing in the bow that drew the eye. Luna seem to shine upon him like a celestial spot light. Tall he stood undefeated by time or fate despite the scars he bore of their best efforts. Unbowed he stood, determined to have his answers.
“Pappy,” the boy's whisper carried across the water.
“Shhh! Boy,” the old man admonished, “You going to answer me Girl or you going to keep me and my grandson here all night?”
Finding his voice,”Old Scratch? You mean the Devil?”
“Who else Girl? I can see his black mark upon you plain,” was the old man's reply. “I know what you were about with that Jap knife in your hand. Are you another fool who brought into that damn fool death and honor crap?”
Urgently the boy's voice floated across the river, “Pappy!”
Sighing at the interruption, “What is it Boy?”
“Pappy that ain't no girl!” the boy blurted out.
The boat had come closer and the eerie Witch's Halo above made the old man's blind eyes shine like silver orbs.
Hanging his head the old man sighed, “Well, that explains it. What did you do Girl? Lay awake at night praying for the good Lord in Heaven to make you right? When that didn't work maybe asked Old Scratch didn't you Girl? Damn Fool!” The strong old man demanded and accused of him.
All he could do was sit on the riverbank and mutely nod with the tears trickling down his cheeks. He had pretended for so long being someone he wasn't. Confused he'd tried telling others, but either was ignored or ridiculed. He was born a boy, a man and that was that. Not knowing what else to do he'd prayed and begged Gawd to make things right the way it should've been. When no answer had come he'd had even asked the Devil for he had felt already damned and had nothing to lose.
The cold steel tanto in his hands had been brought for just one purpose. How could that old man know that it was a woman heart that beat within his male chest?
The boy confused at being ignored, “Pappy! I told you that ain't no girl. That be a man there!”
Annoyed the old man growled back, “Boy how many times do I have to tell you to use your heart and not your damn fool eyes. Use your heart and you'll see sure as I'm here in this boat that is a girl on the bank.”
Gathering his courage he asked, “Who are you?”
The boy piped up, “He be Papa Jon! Powerful ...”
“Shut up Boy! The good Lord don't care for braggarts!” Looking back the figure on the bank, “The question is who are you?”
His tongue froze. He couldn't tell them his name! Admit that he'd been weak enough to want to take his ...”
“No! Fool Girl! Not the name your parents gave to you! Whose heart beats in your chest? What is the name of the woman you've hidden from everyone?” The blind man demanded.
“I, I, I don't know,” he admitted softly hanging his head low in shame.
“If you stand any chance at all of saving your soul, that is a question you are going to have to answer.” The old man told him.
The boat drifted closer to him and let him see the boy's scrunched up face as he stared hard trying to see what few could.
“Old Scratch heard you alright and he put his mark upon you. I guarantee he took your deal laughing the whole way back to hell, fool Girl! You'll get your desire maybe for a handful of breaths. Trade your soul with some crack whore dying somewhere after you use that Jap thing. You'll be a woman for a few heartbeats. After that you won't care for your sweet soul for it will be his to twist as he pleases,” the old man with the blind eyes said.
It'd been a long time since he'd believed. Having his prayers from his heart unanswered as he suffered had badly shaken the belief he'd had as a child. Seemingly ignored by the Adversary as well had finished off his belief. There was still a agnostic like faith remaining within him, but his childlike trust had been broken, until tonight. Something in the old man's fierce voice echoing across the moonlit river refused to be taken lightly. It had a power ringing within it that demanded his attention.
Not sure what was going on and confused he asked, “What can I do?”
Papa Jon rubbed his silvered head in thought as the old boat bumped softly into the bank
The boy's young clear voice sang out, “Ole Nick can't make you into no girl if you already are one.”
“Boy, sometimes you talk fool.” the old man said, “but every now and then you do me proud. He's right, You steal Old Scratch's thunder, and become a woman before he can fulfill his end of the deal. Then he can't do nothing.”
Not knowing what to think, he was wondering if the boy had meant to say Papa Jon was a HooDoo Doctor. “You mean a potion or spell or something?” he asked with a small measure of hope.
“NO, fool Girl!” the old man snapped, “Haven't you learned anything? Making a deal with such as them always leaves you the poorer in the end. Go to the white man's medicine. See what they can do,” the old man said with his eyes reflecting the moonlight.
“U-U-you mean surgery?” he asked with a wavering voice.
Giving a cough, the old man accused him, “You afraid? You're the one with that be-damned Jap razor in your hand ready to carve yourself up.”
The boy's face screwed up as he figured out what they were talking about and his hands moved to protect the object in question.
“It's not only that is it? You're afraid what your parents and others will say and do,” the old man said softly.
Mutely, he could only nod.
Shaking his silvered head, “They will understand or they won't. The good book says to honor thy parents not kiss their butts. You can't live your life for them. If this was easy you wouldn't be up to your neck in this mess to start with. Can't say how you'll look girl. Doctors are only mortal in the end. I can see only the beauty in the soul but trust me Girl it is there for any who bothers to look with their heart. ”
He looked down at the bared tanto in his lap. Slowly but deliberately he sheathed the blade.
Nodding his approval the old man spoke, “Life has dealt you a hard hand Girl. It's not going to be easy, but you've already have come a fairways.”
Putting the sheathed tanto aside, he stood and walked to the river's edge, “What's next?”
The sounds of the night filled the silence as the denizens of the swamp sang as the river softly muttered.
“Come here Girl,” the old man beckoned.
The aged gnarled hand picked a violet off the bank and placed it in the girl's hair, “Just live, Girl. Live the best you can. Make your time here count for something. Most folks are like my grandson here. They see with their eyes and not their hearts. I see the girl within you and you must see her as well.”
With a shove the old boat drifted away from the bank back into the river's current. “Remember your salvation lies in being true to yourself. Putting your butt in a church pew won't hurt nothing Girl!”
As the two faded into the fog beginning to rise on the river, “Be well and may the good Lord watch over you,” the old man's words faded away into the night. The battered boat slowly moved into the gathering fog and faded out of sight.
Raising from within him a wave of tears left him shuddering on his knees as he cried. The tears wrenched themselves from her heart and seemed endless. Weak and sniffing from his crying he dried his face on his now damp blanket.
With care he placed his talismans back into his ruck and stumbled back to his old Chevy. Using a bottle of water he splashed his face to wash away his tears and calm himself so he could drive. He wasn't sure just what had happened tonight, but having a car accident wouldn't help. After a few tries he got the Chevy started and moving in the right direction. He shepherded it carefully out to the paved road. No sooner he'd breathed a sigh of relief at the easier ride when the low fuel light began its baneful warning.
Leaving the curse on his lips unsaid, it was his fault for not filling up, but he had expected this to be a one way trip. Remembering a small gas station he'd passed on the way in, he slowly made his way there. He relaxed a little when the sign advertising gas, cigarettes, and live bait came into sight. The low concrete block building had its peeling white paint covered by sun faded posters hocking drinks, tobacco, and other sundries.
Above the door hand painted in large letters was “Sarge's Gas and Bait.” Well the important thing was they did have gas and strangely enough he had enough cash to not have to worry about the price for once. He'd seen no sense on spending much on himself seeing what he had intended this night. Knowing his family would need the money he had left it unused for them.
A man appeared at the door and he waved pointing at the gas pump. He put in about a half tank from the ancient rattling machine and went inside to pay. Pushing aside the doors the sounds of crickets from the bait cage and the struggling air conditioner echoed inside the small store. A heavy set old man with his arms covered in old distorted and faded tattoos watched him from the corner of his eye as he watched a small TV on the counter.
Having used the only water he had to wash his face earlier, he went to the cooler to find something refreshing to drink. Walking to the counter to pay for his gas and drink, he hesitated for a moment. Handing the man at the counter the money, he asked, “Have you ever heard of a man called Papa Jon?”
Sarge flicked ash off the cigarette affixed to his lower lip while counting back the change, “Papa Jon? I know him. He has a taste for old fashioned root beer and moon pies. Always sending that young grandson of his in here for them. Some out in the backwoods call him a witch doctor or something.
Coughing, “Well use to anyways. Some years back when that big hurricane blew though here, he and that boy of his went out bringing out those couldn't make it on their own. Damn fool thing for him to do being blind and all.”
He stuttered back, “What do you mean use to?”
Sarge gave him an accusing eye, “Why do you want to know?”
“I've heard the name mentioned tonight. Is, is he dead...?” he stammered.
“That's what I said, dead. They went out and never came back. Wasn't the first and won't be the last. Those swamps aren't friendly places on the best of days. You want a bag for that” pointing at the drink.
“N, n, no, I'm fine,” he said in shock. Dead, he thought with the blood draining from his face.
Sarge sighed, “Son, I'm going to give you some advise. You best take that flower out of your hair. Not everyone around here is tolerant like me around here. Some might take it wrong if you get my meaning.”
He nearly ran to his car throwing himself inside. Yanking down the mirror, he'd forgotten about the violet, but it was just where Papa Jon had placed it. An old man he'd just been told was dead. Shivering in the sultry summer night he remembered how Papa Jon and his grandson had just faded away into the fog upon the river. With his drink forgotten he drove off into the night towards his future.
One year later...
She'd been nervous about stopping at the small store, but was determined to do this right. She was thankful when old, battered, tattooed Sarge didn't seemed to recognize her for she was still very self-conscious of her appearance. Swimsuit models would never envy her, but she did look better than she'd ever suspected she could. Making her purchases she headed out looking for that dirt road. The pot holes and ruts were worse than the year before, but she was resolute to complete her errand.
Taking a few minutes to get her Honda turned around, but it was much easier than her aged Chevy had been. With great care she pinned the only one of her treasures she had with her this time to her blouse. After making sure the pressed flower was securely placed, she put her purchases in her ruck. Once more she'd made her way to the glade by the river. The moon wasn't in the same phase and it was missing its halo this time. A few scattered clouds lessened the lunar light, but in most ways it was the same.
Strolling out to the center of the grassy glade with her heart beating hard unsure what might happen. For awhile she just waited but soon shook her head and began to speak. “Last Year you asked me who I was Papa Jon. I didn't know then. It has been a hard year, but somehow whenever I really needed the help it always was there.
My folks still don't know what to think of me, but my brother has stood by me. I had to move to be closer to my doctors, and have a new better job now. I've made new friends, and my old ones who stood by me have become even closer. I still worry about how I look but I've even been complimented on my appearance.
I wouldn't have any of this without your help that night last year,” she said fighting her tears. “I remember Sarge said you liked root beer and moon-pies so I got you and your grandson some.”
Taking the bag from her ruck, she placed it on the bank. Sniffing she wiped her eyes. “I'm Gwen. Thank you Papa Jon.”
She waited for a few minutes and turned to leave. Gwen hadn't gone more than a few steps when she heard something behind her. Should she go back and look she wondered? Thinking about it she knew in her heart what it was. Smiling she whispered, “You're welcome.” Reaching her car she drove off towards her future leaving the moonlit glade behind her.
In the river's gentle breeze the bag of wrappers and empty bottles chimed from the willow branch where it was fastened. If anyone were to listen it was almost like voices.
If you think you're having a tough Holiday, check out Brian's!
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Hello!, this is my third story and is much longer than the previous ones. By kind permission of Bill Hart and Maggie Finson, characters from SRU and Heaven and Hell respectively make appearances. There are elementals of the supernatural, Trans-gender, and violence portrayed in the following. If any of these would offend you please stop here! My usual warnings about being an novice writer still applies! Many, many thanks to Angel for angelic details, and Karen the grammar goddess for taking a barely understandable story and polishing it up into a good one! Thank you so much Ladies! Please enjoy and comments are always welcomed!
What a Christmas!
What a Christmas this was turning out to be Brian thought sourly as he shuffled along with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He narrowly avoided collisions with busy shoppers burdened with packages and bags as he walked on the second level of Columbia Mall. The Muzak droned out a Christmas melody murdered so often it was nearly unrecognizable. He was an athletic sixteen-year-old teenager, but a bit small for his age. The Christmas decorations hanging from the overhead skylights looked worn and cheap, which suited Brian just fine. He looked down at the center court on the ground level that had the same hokie Santa’s Village that had been there every Christmas for as long as he could remember.
He hated being small because no matter how hard he worked out it did not matter. His older brother Matt was eighteen, a solid six foot six, on the first string football team, and on his way to play college football next year when he graduated. Brian morbidly reflected that even his 8-year-old sister Denise was almost as tall as he was. Okay, he reluctantly admitted she was tall for her age.
It just sucked that here was the Holiday break starting tomorrow, and his best friend Tim had moved suddenly and all the rest of his buddies were going to be out of town. Brian groused, moving aside at the last moment to miss a large woman dragging a screaming brat after her. It just wasn’t fair. Tim hadn’t even told him before he moved and hadn’t even called! What put the crap in the litter box was instead of getting to spend the last evening with his other friends before they left for whatever dried-up old grandparents they were to visit, he had to go shopping for a gift for his brother and sister!
It was one of those Holiday Traditions, with a capital T, which his Mom was always going on about. Gifts for family had to be in the house the weekend before Christmas Eve because that let their Mom and Dad take inventory and check to see if anyone had been left out. Then they still had the chance to go shopping to make up the difference, which was the real reason. The stated reason was for the wrapping party where everyone wrapped the intended’s gift while the gift-receiver had to find the dumb Christmas elves.
The elves were often repainted and chipped pottery figures, which Mom and Dad hid somewhere in the house. They would give you clues and when you found your elf, you could enter the kitchen turned wrapping center. Therefore, you would rush to find it and run back to the kitchen before everyone had finished wrapping so you could see what you were getting. On Christmas Eve, you could then redeem your elf for one present. When Brian was younger, it had been fun. Everyone wrapped their gifts for the elf-hunter as quickly as they could. They did this to keep their gifts a secret from the elf-hunter while the hunter rushed back as fast as they could to try and see what their gift was. Well, the hot cocoa and fresh cookies their Mom always had ready never hurt either.
Never mind, it was his own fault for having waited so long Brian couldn’t deny. He’d heard from a new student that a magic shop had moved into the mall. Tina was a transfer student that would officially start classes in the New Year, but he had run into her earlier today on her orientation tour. It was a little weird how they hit it off because he was usually shy with girls. Tina had told him with a wink about the magic shop. Brian still wasn’t sure what the wink was all about, but it sure made her look cute!
He looked at the business card that she had given him, embossed in a color shifting gothic font was Spells-R-Us 10% off any one spell item or curse. Looking up, Brian saw it just ahead on the other side of the escalators. Matt was crazy about that magician guy on TV David Blaine, and this magic shop with it’s curious old style shop front looked just the place to find something for him. Maybe he could find something for Denise here as well so he could get back to his buddies before supper.
Brian was so startled suddenly by a blast of music that came from behind him that a pair of young women that was oblivious to his presence ran into him and nearly sent him sprawling. The music sounded a little like Mannheim Steamroller’s dark and ominous Christmas stuff. It was coming from a slick looking shop that was all edges and sleek surfaces. The Purple neon sign done in that twisted barbed wire style he’d seen as tattoos on some of the older guys at school that read The Magic Emporium. Brian thought now that looked like a cool store, and went in.
Dannie was helping a customer when the boss came out of the backroom and went to the window. This really got her curiosity up because the Boss always knew what was going on, in, and around the shop. She rang up the sale and wished her customers a Merry Christmas as she bagged it up. Watching the couple leave she knew that they would be getting more of a holiday surprise than they suspected!
Dannie walked up to the window next to the Boss and asked him. “Weren’t you expecting a customer about now?”
The Wizard motioned her quiet as he absent-mindedly filled and lit his pipe as he concentrated looking out the storefront.
Dannie puzzled, turned to look out the window herself to see what sort of apocalyptic event was happening outside. When she figured out what she was watching, Dannie exclaimed, “Oh, Shit!”
Nonplused, the Wizard replied. “Indeed, my dear,” puffing on his pipe.
Brian strolled into the Emporium and was wondering why the place wasn’t bustling like the rest of the mall. It was almost as if the place had suddenly appeared and he was the only one to notice it. Wow, there was some great stuff in here. Costumes, knives, jewels, and all sort of strangely shaped bottles filled of different things. Peering at one, he saw something inside the bottle it looked just like a miniature mermaid. What was disturbing was her beating on the bottle as if begging him for help. Backing away, Brian saw a glimmer that drew his eye. It was a black velvet lined box, with a crystal bust of a woman nude from the top up inside. Like all teenage males, the sight of anything hinting of eroticism caused a pleasant tightening in his jeans. Looking at the glittering crystal with his full attention, Brian saw that it was really two busts a woman and a man’s joined at the waist. One was upright and the other upside down. He reached down and touched the female’s crystal tits and instead of the expected coolness, it was warm instead. It was when the small crystal face arched backwards in pleasure; Brian jerked back not believing his eyes. He leaned a little closer to look at the exquisite face trying to convince him-self that it was just a trick of the lights and cut crystal.
“You have excellent taste Brian that is such an interesting piece” a smooth voice near him said.
Brian whirled around with his heart beating faster than it should and was thinking that this place wasn’t cool at all and he‘d better leave. The man who had scared him yeah Brian decided scared was the right word all right was dressed in a severe black suit giving him an edgy sinister look. Brian sidestepped away and muttered. “Just looking” as he tried to head for the door.
The smooth voice stopped him from moving another step when it said. “It really is magic you know.”
Brian stammered out, “Magic?”
“I am the proprietor of the Magic Emporium and yes real magic. Real magic that can help you, which is why you’re here.” That hypnotic voice said.
“Help me, how?” Brian said despite his better senses telling him to run.
“I know how you despise being the smallest boy in your class and this very special item can help. Your brother is so tall and strong that he could afford to share don’t you think? This Crystal will let you do that.” The man in black said while gently stoking the miniature sculpture.
Brian was envious of his brother’s height although they were close it couldn’t prevent him from asking. “How would it do that?”
Sensing a helpless prey the man in black gave a shark’s grin and said. “To SHARE from a male press the woman’s mouth to his skin and she will take a bite. Only a small bite I assure you and the man’s side will fill. Breathe your breath into the man’s face and he will transfer it to you. You see nothing more than a simple sharing.” He slickly continued.
Brian had a bad feeling about this, but if there was any chance this could help him be taller he couldn’t turn away he just couldn’t! “How much is it?” he found himself asking.
“Just $19.99, will that be cash or charge?” Mr. Black said as he clicked the top of the jewelry box closed and placed it in a black bag.
Brian uncertainly handed Mr. Black the credit card that their Mom let them use for shopping.
Mr. Black took the card, ran it though his machine, and said. “Here are some last important tips on the crystal’s use. It increases the effectiveness if you take any womanly traits from yourself first by using the Man‘s bite on yourself. The longer you wait to partake of it once the essence is in the crystal the more distilled it will become. It can only hold so much so if you fill it with female essence you‘ll have to empty it before you can place more male in it. You can have male and female essence in the crystal at the same time, but until you have some essence in the crystal. Be careful for it is fragile.”
While Brian was listening to this, his eyes caught Mr. Black’s reflection in the black and silver reflective top of the display. The eerie distortion of the reflections of the pale-bluish skinned horned creature didn’t look the least bit human. A part of him was wondering; what this male/female essence stuff was all about, but his hindbrains was whispering that here was something to either fight or flee!
Brian grabbed his card and package and bolted for the door. The crowds of shoppers didn’t seem as annoying as they once were as he took comfort in the press of humanity. Turning around, Brian froze dumbfounded for the Magic Emporium was gone as if it had never been as he looked into what was now a shoe store.
“Dannie, gather these items and bag them for me please,” said her Boss, as he took a ratty notebook out of his tattered robes pocket and produced a feathered quill from another. Dannie took the list and started to fill it.
“Let’s see here,” she said to herself; one silvered back mirror, one puzzle box, and what? Hey, Boss we don’t have this autographed poster!”
The Wizard, while still chuckling said, “You’ll find it in the second row, last shelf, and the first drawer on the right.” He still loved showing up the help sometimes, but there was a serious matter to resolve.
Dannie, following the Boss’s direction found the poster and muttered softly, “I hate it when he does that.” She bagged it up and hurried back to the Boss.
Then to her absolute amazement, he took the bag and went out into the mall.
Brian was still staring at the Foot Locker ® where only a minute before there’d been something else.
“Congratulations my boy you have the winning card for our gift give-away!”
Brian numbly turned around half-afraid of who or what was speaking to him now and found an old man in a worse for wear robe carrying a shopping bag. Winning card, what was that old man talking about?
The old man kindly pointed at the Spells-R-Us business card that was still in Brian’s hand and held out his hand for it.
Brian still in shock gave the card to the old man and took the bag as it was handed to him.
“Thank you Brian,” said the Wizard and turned back to his store.
Brian, louder than he wanted to cried. “How did you know my name? How did that thing, know me?”
The old man whirled around back to him and said sharply. “Brian, the reason I know your name is that I’m a wizard. What is done is done and you can‘t go back and change it. Can you throw it away? The wizard asked gesturing at the black bag.
Brian could only shake his head no.
The Wizard gave him a piecing look, and said. “Look for what’s inside yourself and you’ll know what to do when the time comes.” The old man then went back into his old-fashioned shop. Brian hurried after him, but small herds of shoppers slowed him, and by the time he’d gotten passed them, Spells-R-Us had vanished just as The Magic Emporium had.
Chapter 2
When Brian got home, he found his Mom putting the final touches on supper. She was still slim after three kids and eighteen years of marriage. He mumbled out the expected “I’m home Mom.” and returned the family shopping card and receipt to her.
“You get your shopping finished dear?” She asked him placing the card and receipt in an apron pocket as she was stirring a pot. Glancing at the bags in his hands, she said. “You only spent $20 for all of that?”
Knowing that not much got by her, he never saw her actually look at that receipt. Brian said, “Yeah Mom.”
Amused, she asked again, “Was that a yeah, that your shopping’s done, or a yeah, that’s the only receipt?”
Brian knew she expected to be answered in complete sentences, “Yes, Mom, I got everything and I got just the one receipt, can I put these up now?” holding up the shopping bags.
She gestured at the two different bags, making an inquiring arch of her eyebrows.
“Oh, Mom, I won a contest and got the purchases for free,” Brian quickly improvised.
Feeling the heat rising, Brian looked in the Spell-R-Us bag and found a card that said congratulations on winning the SRU Door prize. Relieved, that he didn’t have try to explain the events at the mall, Brian showed her the card.
Virginia knew she had a good kid, but his size bothered him a lot and losing his friend, Tim had really put him into a funk. Brian and Tim had been close as brothers despite Tim being a year ahead of him in school and older. Puberty wasn’t easy to get through, and she and their father had discussed growth hormone treatment for Brian, but he was only a little below average height for his age. The potential health problems when he was older were just not worth the risk. It didn’t help matters that everyone else in the family was way above average height. She was 6’ and her husband Dan was 6’4”.
Today she‘d gone over to Tim‘s parents house to try and find out what had happened to him. His mother Beth said that he had gone to a military academy and hadn‘t gotten in touch because the academy was very strict. While there, she got to meet Tina a cousin of Tim’s whose parents had died in an accident and had moved into his old room. Tina was the same age as Brian and would be starting classes soon. “I heard some news about Tim,” she told him.
Brian slammed his door shut, threw the bags on his bed, and fell into his computer desk chair. A military academy, Tim? He couldn’t think of place less likely for Tim to be! On top of that they’ve already gave his room away to a GIRL? So much for friends forever no matter what! The problem was he couldn’t resent Tina, because he rather liked her. His mind made up some wild stories that Tim’s parents had killed him and buried Tim in the backyard or that Tina really was Tim, changed like some of those stories that Tim was always sneaking off to read. Brian gave it up. Despite his bizarre experience at the mall this afternoon, that stuff wasn’t real.
Remembering his mall trip, he opened up the bag from the Wizard. Brian found an antique appearing silver mirror, and an intricate puzzle box, but the real prize was the poster of David Blaine with an autograph even. He looked at the bag curiously; for there was just no way, the poster could have fitted in there. It all worked out he guessed. Matt would get the poster, and Denise the mirror. She was a girl and they like stuff like that. He would just keep the puzzle box for now.
Without him willing it, his eyes fell on the black bag. Brian took out the jewelry box and opened it, more than a little wanting to find it empty. The crystal figure was nestled in the box and he hesitantly stroked the woman’s tit again, and found himself forgetting to breathe when it arched again like before. Brian couldn’t bring himself to touch the male half. Now, what do I do? He asked himself. Brian was none to sure about this sharing thing that Mr. Black, had talked about, or this male and female essence stuff. He cared about his brother, and that reflection he’d half-seen of Mr. Black could only be called evil. Brian didn’t want to do anything to harm Matt, and he was cool for an older brother.
Wait a minute, he thought, Mr. Black had said that you could draw out the female whatcha-call-it out of yourself. Girls were smaller than guys were, so maybe just using it on himself would be enough to make a difference. That old man had suggested that throwing the crystal away was a good thing. Brian considered for a moment throwing it ALL away, both of the bags. Thinking more about it, the stuff from Spells-R-Us seemed harmless, he’d just use the crystal on himself, and he’d throw it away on the way to school far from home.
Running over the instructions in his head, to get the female use the male, and pressed his finger against the male’s face. “Ouch!” Brian cried as it bit him as promised. He looked at the small hole in his finger and the blood welling up from it. A small bite my ass! Brian picked up the box and saw a smear of blood on the male’s face and amazingly a trickle of something that looked like blood flowing further into the crystal. Whoa, Brian mouthed, it was like watching that movie about the invisible man when he ate something and you could see the food moving inside him. Only this was flowing down to the female end of the figure and it was turning PINK! Now, that something was inside it, he could see a shared cavity inside the crystal and it was about half full when all of the pale fluid had settled.
Brian went to his height chart and it still read 5’6”. Disappointed he went to the bathroom to wash off the blood and for a bandage. He’d finished his first aid when Matt knocked and said, “Supper’s ready hurry up! Dad’s going to New York tonight and Mom wants us to send him off.”
Brian made a disgusted sound, well so much about spending anytime at all with his remaining friends, before the holiday. Brian hurried downstairs, his experiment with the crystal forgotten.
The next morning Brian hurried downstairs, meaning to toss the jewelry box into a dumpster on the way to school.
“Stop right there young man,” his Mom got him at the door. “You know that you need to shave now.”
Confused, Brian checked himself in the hallway mirror, and to his surprise, he had whiskers. He’d been shaving once every week for about couple months, but he shouldn’t need it yet. Brian wondered if the crystal did this, but he didn’t have time to worry about that right now. “Mom, it’s only a half-day today,” Brian tried to keep from whining.
Virginia gave in, but told him sternly, “Alright, this time, but you will shave tonight.”
“Thanks Mom,” said Brian and gave her a quick hug on his way out.
Brian hurriedly tossed the box into the dumpster and hurried off to school. Unseen in its box the crystal’s Pink contents glowed brightly and the entire box vanished.
Homeroom was boisterous with everyone excited with this being only a half-day. Several teens were absent, because of leaving for various trips early like his friends had. One that was here and one he wished weren’t. Ron was the class bully, and a huge jock. He took after his Dad who was a giant at six foot eight and had played football in college. Brian’s parents were always telling him that he really wasn’t that small, it’s just that everyone else here was much taller than usual. That fact didn’t seem to bother Ron, since everyone was smaller than he was. He pushed everybody around, although after a scuffle last year, Ron mostly left him alone. Ron’s Mom had died last year in one of those stupid accidents that happens around the house, and he had become an unholy terror. Brian’s Mom had been friends with Ron’s back in school, and he had heard from her that Ron’s Dad was very demanding that his son excel in everything. Brian fervently wished that Ron wouldn’t take out his frustrations on everyone else.
The bell rang and everyone filed out for the Holiday assembly in the gym. Brian rushed to get in first, so he could check the scales there to see if he had grown in height, as well as hair. He’d grown almost an inch!
Taking a seat in the gym, he didn’t have any problems staying awake, because Ron kept throwing spitballs at him. 'How is it, teachers never catch this, Brian thought angrily.
Finally, the assembly of hell ended, and everyone was on their way back to their homerooms. Brian shoved his hands into his pockets, fuming and irritated. Now what, he thought, as he felt something in his pocket that shouldn’t be there. Brian taking the offending object out, and thinking nasty thoughts about maybe someone had planted something on him. His blood froze as he recognized the jewelry box that he’d thrown away this morning. Hastily, he hid it back in his pocket. Now what was he going to do?
In front of him, Ron had elbowed someone and down they went. With his hand on the box and watching Ron tower over anyone else in the hallway, an evil thought came to him. It was about time for some payback. Taking the crystal from the box, Brian caught up with the gloating Ron. Thankfully, it was in the 70’s today in Carolina and most everyone was in short-sleeves. Brian pressed the crystal‘s female mouth against the back of Ron’s elbow. Ron jumped and cursed violently as Brian palmed the crystal back into his pocket hoping that even if someone saw him they wouldn’t care because Ron had gotten some of what he’d been dishing out.
Ron was belligerently looking around while holding his elbow and saw him. It was too bad that Ron wasn’t as stupid as he was large because, he added two and two together and got Brian. At least there’s some advantage to being small as Brian weaved in and out of the busy hallway keeping well away from the irate football player. He’d made it back to homeroom with plenty of leeway. Ron stormed in looking for him. Thank God, Mr. Henderson the homeroom teacher saw him and said. ”Ron do you have a problem?”
Brian could see the gears moving in Ron’s head and held his breath. “No sir,” said Ron “I don’t have a problem.”
Mr. Henderson gave Ron a stern look and said, “See that it stays that way.”
Brian couldn’t help laughing inside, and thinking, hello, Shorty, at the soon to be small Ron. The final bell of the year rang and he did some fancy footwork to avoid Ron. Being in track, it wasn’t too hard to out distance Ron. His only real worry was Ron’s dad had gotten him a Dodge Charger for making the team. Cutting cross-country, he managed to get to a place no car could go, a place where he and Tim had hung out near the creek, behind their houses.
Taking the crystal from his pocket, Brian found that it was full now. Half of it somehow a brighter pink stuff and a pale blue liquid. Feeling half-excited and half-terrified at the same time, he breathed into the crystal’s male face. The tiny mouth opened, and Brian nearly choked as a torrent poured into his mouth. It was salty, sour, bitter, and sweet all at once, and he fell to the ground gagging. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Brian managed to begin breathing again.
“Are you all right” a soft voice asked him? Blinking, he saw it was Tina. Oh, great I find a girl I like, and she finds me like this, Brian thought to himself.
“I saw you running though the woods, and I came to see what was wrong,” she said kneeling next to him.
“It’s okay, I’m just out of breath from running, I had a little trouble with a jerk at school,” Brian said as he slipped the crystal into a pocket.
“Do you mind if I ask you who it was,” she asked.
“No, you’ll find out about him yourself when you start,” he answered, but thought to himself, not if the crystal works. If it kept Ron from bullying this girl, it was worth it, feeling an unfamiliar warm glow inside. “There’s one of the jocks, named Ron, who likes pushing everybody around and I got into a little scuffle with him,” Brian confessed.
“Ron, Oh my God, are you out of your mind?” He’s twice your size with an attitude to match,” Tina exclaimed.
“You know him?” Brian replied, confused as to how.
“Hmm, Tim told me before he left about him. He’s big and likes to throw his weight around, that’s what Tim said,” Tina replied. “Do you think he’ll still be after you?” she asked.
Brian thought a moment and shook his head, no. “His Dad went with mine to a meeting in New York, so he’s home alone, and he has a nearly new car. I’m sure he’s found other things to do by now.” He hesitated and asked, “Can I walk you home? Safety in numbers,” Brian quickly added.
She looked thoughtful, and said, “As long as I’m causing trouble for jerks, its fine.” and giggled. “Oh, did you get to that magic shop I told you about?” Tina asked casually.
He blushed, finding he liked the sound of her laugh. “No, I didn’t get to go inside. It’d already moved, before I could, Brian said. It was the truth sort of, because he never did get inside and it did move.
She seemed a little disappointed somehow, but Brian got up and offered his hand to her. He helped her up and together they walked towards their homes, with worries of bullies and jerks lost on a sunny fall day.
Chapter 3
Brian had just taken the puzzle box out of the shopping bag, looking for the mirror when Denise breathlessly rushed into the kitchen nearly screaming, “I’ve got it! I’ve got my ELF!”
He was a little disgusted, but was in such a good mood that even getting caught with his gift to her unwrapped couldn’t spoil it. He’d shaved last night, and had to do it again this morning. It wasn’t his favorite activity, but it did prove that the crystal was WORKING. On top of that, he’d grown another half inch last night. It wasn’t all good, as the having to shave more part proved, because now his jeans were uncomfortably snug.
If that wasn’t good enough, he and Tina had a date. Okay maybe it wasn’t a date, but she said, she wanted to hang out with him, if that was Okay. Okay? It was great! If he hadn’t been daydreaming maybe he would’ve gotten Denise’s gift wrapped, but all he’d gotten her anyways was the mirror, so everything was cool.
He was rudely shaken from his thoughts, when Denise, hugged him. “How did you know I wanted one on those?” she asked him in disbelief, looking at the puzzle box.
Brian didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter if she got the box or the mirror. He gave a grin and said, “A wizard told me.” Thinking about it, he could give the mirror to Tina!
Denise gave him a playful shove and reached for the box. Only to be stopped when their Mom banished her dough covered mixing spoon like a weapon. “Not till Christmas Eve young lady, that’s if that’s what you want to use your elf for,” she admonished her daughter.
Denise backed away with her hands up, giggling, “Alright Mom!” She then took a more serious voice when she asked, “Mom, Dad is going to be home on Christmas Eve, right?”
Virginia gave her children a reassuring smile, “Yes, he is. He has a dinner on the 23rd, but is leaving on a late flight back that night. He might be tired, but he will be here.” She looked at each of them to make sure they understood and looked at her daughter, “What is this about puzzle boxes? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
Denise leaned over to whisper secretly into her mother’s ear, “My friend Lisa has one and she keeps her DIARY in it to keep her brothers from reading it.”
Virginia looked sternly at Denise, “You know your brothers wouldn’t do that.” She looked at her sons with death in her eyes, “Because they’d know better, don’t they?”
Both boys nodded solemnly, yes, while looking as innocent as they could.
Denise gave them a distrustful, glance, and plaintively said, “But Mom, they’re BOYS!
Matt and Brian looked at each other, in surprise, “We are?”, and an exaggerated show of looking at their chests to check.
Denise started giggling and soon the boys joined in. Virginia gave them the “parent doesn’t agree” look, but was very happy that Brian had come out of his funk although he’d seemed to be growing again. Oh well, more shopping. Their father Dan wasn’t going to enjoy getting the bills, Growing boys!
The week seemed to have flown by Brian was musing. Tomorrow was Christmas. He and Tina had spent a lot of time together and he was still growing about a half-inch a day. He was now 5’10” and even though he was had to shave everyday now, he was very happy. Even after that shopping trip with his Mom, who was starting to be suspicious of his sudden and quick growth. He’d some growing pains from it all, but was set on getting though it.
It’s said that in Carolina if you didn’t like the weather, wait and it’ll change. Last week he and Tina had been in shorts and short sleeves, and today was a bleak, cold, and drizzly, a typical Southern wintry day, but no frozen stuff here this time of year, Brian thought looking out at the low gray clouds. If we get sleet or snow at all, it’ll be in late January and early February and not much even then. No White Christmases for them, but dreary, overcast, and chilly days. No closed airports either, so their Dad would be home tonight.
Tina was coming over for dinner, and he had to shave again, so he would look good for her. His Mom had reminded him of the house rules regarding visitors of the opposite sex. No closed bedroom doors, and if she or their Dad wasn’t home, no visitors at all. He resented the rules a bit, but Matt had lived with them, so Brian knew he could too. They would be having Christmas Eve Dinner without their Dad, because, of a delay in New York, he and Ron’s Dad would be arriving in Columbia later on this evening.
The doorbell rang while Matt was watching TV in the living room, and Denise fiddled with her puzzle box that she‘d redeemed her elf for that morning. As one, they turned and ginned at each other as Brian yelled out, “I’ve got it,” as he dove down the stairs in a controlled crash. Denise mouthed silently, “Brian’s got a girlfriend.” Matt made a shushing motion with his finger, “Not yet, wait till dinner and he has a mouth full of food!” He counseled. They both laughed, at the planned prank.
Brian opened the door and there was a girl, but it wasn’t Tina. She was a bit tall for a girl, and had that slender supermodel look even with the bulky ill-fitting clothes and was quite attractive. She’d been crying, he could see, because of her eyes.
“Brian? Is that you? You’re taller now. I guess that makes sense because of what happened to me,” she was almost in tears again.
He was confused, because he hadn’t a notion of who she was, or what she was doing here. Brian asked her, “Who are you? Are you lost?”
She gave him an almost smile, “You don’t recognize me do you? I know you had something to do with this,” as she waved her hand at herself.
Brian stepped outside, and shut the door. “I don’t think this is funny and no, I don’t know you!” he said getting a little angry.
“It’s so weird looking you in the eye. It’s me, Ron. You know the GUY you injected with something on the last day of school last week,” she said.
Stunned, Brian backed away. Looking past her, he could see Ron’s Dodge Charger parked by the curb, and Ron didn’t let ANYONE drive it, especially not a girl.
Frightened, she said, “Please don’t run! I just didn’t know whom else to go too. MY Dad comes back tonight and if he sees me like this, he’ll KILL me,” she said with the tears starting again. “You did this to me! Please help me!”
Brian never expected anything like this! He’d thought that Ron would just end up as short as he’d been, not this. Part of him wanted to run inside and slam the door, but he just couldn’t. Ron, no, someone, a person was hurting, and it was his fault. Awkwardly, he touched her shoulder, and told her, “I won’t run. I’ll help you if I can.”
Ron threw herself around him sobbing and Brian not really knowing what else to do caught and held her.
Tina was so happy, she felt as if she was going to fly away. She carefully put up her special hairbrush, and checked out her hair in the silver mirror, Brian had given her, giddy with excitement. His family had this tradition of being able to choose one present Christmas Eve morning to open, and even if they were a little subdued, because their Dad had missed his flight due to some sort of business stuff, they were good people to hang with. Tina was surprised when Mrs. Deacon invited her over, and even more surprised when she found that Brian had gotten her a gift. The antique mirror was perfect, and she had been invited back over for supper. Tina checked her appearance one last time and hurried out.
Tina’s Mom watched her daughter hurry out of their house with a happy skip to her step and couldn’t help smiling. The whole thing had been trying, and she didn’t know if her husband ever would get use to it, but seeing Tina so happy and at peace was a priceless gift. Looking at the gray drizzly sky, she decided that a roaring fire in the family room would be a good idea.
Tina shivered in the light jacket she had on as the nearly freezing rain fell. It seemed that she felt the cold more intensely now, than before her change. It wasn’t easy sometimes, but it was the right choice for her. Tina thought that maybe Brian had gotten to Spells-R-Us, but for some reason told her he hadn’t. She’d seen his change in height, and enjoyed being held by him. Willing to forgive him his untruth, she was just too happy to hold it against him.
She looked up from her rain-hood, and saw two people hugging at the door to Brian’s house. The teenage girl was tall, but had on the worse fitting and ill-matched clothes. An icy cold pierced her heart when she saw the young man was Brian. Who the girl was, Tina didn’t know and didn’t care. Turning away, fighting tears and the tightness in her throat, Tina ran home with her happiness washed away with the rain.
Brian held the sobbing Ron, helplessly as they stood on the porch shielded from the cold. He told her how he went to the mall and of Mr. Black. Brian took the crystal that now was at least two thirds full of a very hot pink fluid out of his pocket and explained how it worked. He then placed it behind him and told her to watch. A moment later, the crystal was gone. Showing her his hands, Brian reached into his pocket and took out the crystal that’d reappeared in his pocket. He told her that he couldn’t get rid of it, that it always came back. Hesitantly, Brian said, “The only way I know to change you back would to have it bite me, but that would leave me like you are now or worse, since the pink stuff is from me,” as he shook the crystal.
Ron sniffled, stopping her sobs, “No, it’s better this way.” giving a wane smile at his perplexed look. She said, “All of my life my Father has never let me be me. I had to be the best at everything. Anything I wanted wasn’t important, and only what he wanted was.” Averting tears again, “After what he did to Mom, I just want out! I don’t want to be a girl, but if that lets me be free, then okay.”
Brian was shocked, “What happened to your Mom wasn’t an accident?” He’d gotten Ron completely wrong, and was feeling even worse as each new secret came into the light.
Ron shook her head no, sobbing once more.
“Why were you always beating up on everyone? I mean …” Brian tried to say.
“I was always so angry, and it was so unfair, that Father was always pushing me and Mom around. I couldn’t help myself. It was wrong, but Father was telling me that I couldn’t be weak,” Ron sobbed out.
“We have to tell my Mom,” Brian said to Ron, swallowing his fear of how disappointed his Mom would be in him.
Ron looked up alarmed, “We can’t…”
“Ron, even if I use this to change you back, you’ll still be with your Dad. What he’s done is wrong, and we’re way over our heads. If I don’t, I’ve put YOUR life in danger, because of what I did,” Brian told her. “I don’t want to tell anyone either, but I’ve got to make this right if I can. The lump in his throat got heavier. He opened the door and led her to the kitchen.
“I was wondering how long you two would stand out there in the cold,” said Brian’s Mom as they entered the warm room. Virginia expecting Tina stopped when she saw the unknown, but strangely familiar girl. He’d such a look on his face that she knew that bad news was on the way.
Brian cleared his throat nervously, and started, “Mom I’ve got something to tell you and it’s a little hard to believe, but I swear it’s the truth.”
Ron wiped her red eyes, “I guess you can call me Veronica, and it’s all true.”
Virginia passed over a box of tissue to Veronica, ready to tear big bloody chunks out of her son if this was what she thought it was.
Brian saw the red glint in his Mom’s eye and had trouble swallowing. “It’s NOT like that. It’s bad, but not that.” He told his Mom what he’d already told Ron watching her eyebrows raise. When he finished, he showed her the crystal, and how it kept coming back. Ron then told her part, but stopped when she reached her Mom’s death.
Brian softly told Ron, “Please, you have to if you want help.”
Virginia watched the exchange not really knowing what to think at this point.
Ron sobbing told the real story of what happened the night her Mom died. “They were fighting and Father got so mad, he hit her and she fell and didn’t move. He made me help him carry her up the stairs and let her fall.” Ron stopped and was crying uncontrollably.
Controlling her anger, Virginia hugged the crying girl, who was in such misery. She knew now why Veronica looked so familiar. Ron’s Mom looked just like her. It was if all of the things, from Ron’s father was gone leaving only that of her friend. “Was she already dead? Virginia asked as gently as she could.
Veronica choked out, “I think so.”
“Honey, why haven’t you told anyone? Virginia asked, wiping the girl’s face.
“He said that because I helped him carry her up the stairs, I would go to jail too. When I got mad, and told him I didn’t care, Father threatened to kill me too. Last year he got a concealed carry license and has a gun now,” the teenager said frightened. “He’s coming home tonight, and I don’t know what to do. I’m wearing some of Mom’s old clothes, but I’ve been afraid to go anywhere.”
Virginia gave her son a stony look, “What do you have to say for yourself young man?” She didn’t want to believe their story, but nothing else made sense.
“You believe us Mom?” Brian asked. At her curt nod, he said, “I hurt someone Mom, and I’ve got to make right if I can. I should’ve thrown this thing away, and now I can’t. It just keeps coming back, liked I showed you.
“You say the only way to change Ron back would be to drink that,” his Mom said pointing at the Pink stuff and have it bite you, and Ron drink what came from you?”
“No, please don’t,” Veronica said,” its better I stay this way.” Virginia gave her a startled look as she continued, “I told Brian this way I can get a new start. At school, no one liked me. Feared me, yes, but I didn’t have any real friends. I wished that I could start over, and if this isn’t exactly what I wanted, it is the chance I’ve waited for.”
“Are you sure dear?” asked Virginia wondering at how her friend Liz would’ve thought of this had she not died because of that SOB, Virginia thought savagely. This kid had been though a piece of hell, and she deserved a second chance, but a part of her mourned her friend. Oh, why didn’t you tell ME Liz?
Virginia closed her eyes thinking hard, when Veronica nodded yes. They didn’t know what the crystal would do if they tried to use it again, everyone seemed to be able to live what had already been done. It was best to break it if they could, so no one else could be hurt by this.
She turned off the stove and led them into the garage workshop. For once Virginia was happy about her husband’s welding hobby. He had this thing about rebuilding the most rusted-out cars, he could find, welding and cutting sheet metal was a part it. It was noisy and dirty, and she was the one who got to clean the clothes from his hobby. It was time to finally put it to a good use. She had Brian fasten that thing in a heavy vise, and put on a heavy leather apron and gloves. Veronica found safety glasses for all of them and they put them on.
Brian picked up the heavy hammer, and looked at his Mom as she nodded. Pulling down the welding face shield, holding his breath, he raised the hammer and brought it down hard striking the troublesome crystal in the vise. A crash of thunder shook the house and all the lights went out.
Meanwhile:
Columbia Metropolitan Airport
The senior meteorologist on duty at the local national weather center office noted the very abrupt temperature drop. It shouldn’t have happened, but it was as if a cold pocket came out of nowhere. He didn’t waste anytime because with the temperature only a few degrees over freezing and falling fast, plus with the ground so saturated with rain and the current conditions, they were going to have icing conditions all over the state. Placing the alerts on the system, he answered the call from the airport control tower. “Yeah, I see it too. I don’t know what happened, but we’re going to be iced in here in less than an hour at this rate. You better start diverting flights. I know it’s tough on Christmas Eve, but no choice. I’m calling the state emergency response team now, got to go. It was going to be a busy night. What a Christmas!
Meanwhile:
Somewhere over Maryland, on a Flight to Columbia.
Dan Deacon was woken up from his nap by a flight attendant. “Sir the Captain is about to make an important announcement, can you wake up your friend?” Dan groggily gestured yes. He pushed Jeff awake, who still smelt of liquor. Friend my ass, if Jeff hadn’t got into that drunken brawl, I would’ve already been home with my family. Jeff was a decent engineer, but since Liz, his wife had died, the drinking was getting out of hand. No arrests yet, but the company was small and really needed this contact. One of their chief engineers being arrested was not part of the strategy for landing said contact.
“May I have your attention please,” announced the Captain. “Because of unexpected worsening winter weather conditions in Columbia, we’re being diverted to Charlotte International. We apologize for the delay and representatives will meet you at the gate to assist you with making other arrangements. The conditions in Columbia presently is developing freezing rain turning to sleet with expected accumulations of up to 2 or 3” Thank you and have a Happy Holiday”
The packed cabin of holiday travelers moaned at the bad news. Dan was unhappy with Jeff. After spending most of the day waiting for a flight in New York, and now looking like he might miss spending Christmas with his family, Dan wasn’t feeling very charitable towards Jeff. Dan along with everyone else signaled the attendants for the use of an in-flight cell phone. Jeff just grunted and closed his eyes.
Dan asked Jeff, “Aren’t you going to call Ron and let him know you’re going to be late?”
Jeff just grunted again and ignored him.
That was about the final straw for Dan. Maybe it was time to talk to the other partners about easing Jeff out of the firm. Business was business, but you don’t treat family that way. He didn’t know what to do about Ron, since according to his son Brian; he was something of a bully. Liz and Virginia had been close; maybe she’d have an idea. Dan settled back to wait for his turn at the phones, and relaxed now that a decision had been reached.
Chapter 4
“Is it time for dinner yet,” asked Denise.
“Not yet, sis,” looks like they’re having one of Mom’s talks,” replied Matt.
“I hope they hurry, I’m hungry!” she growled.
“That’s my line!” her big brother teased Denise.
They both jumped when the very foundation shook from the deafening peal of thunder, then the house went dark. Laughing nervously at their outburst, Matt was jumpy at the sudden quiet and Denise whispered, “What was that?”
“Must have been a lightning strike on a transformer, the power should come back on soon,” answered Matt.
No, that sound,” said the still whispering Denise.
Now hearing the rattling, he carefully crossed the dark room; Matt was amazed to see it sleeting outside. Denise looked out with him and asked, “Is it snow?”
“Not snow, sleet and ice it looks like,” Matt said to her watching the disappointment fill her face. The last time it had done any real snowing here, she’d only been three, and she‘d never been in it personally. He could see all of the lights were out as far as he could see, and he knew that this wasn’t a good thing at all. Normally it was warm enough that no one really worried about the cold weather much, but after seeing Brian’s gift of David Blaine’s poster of Frozen In Time, he’d done a little research on cold survival and if the power didn’t come back on soon it could be a dangerously real problem. There were homeless shelters, but not enough of them, and Columbia just didn’t have enough equipment to deal with a lot of frozen stuff, besides everyone being home on Christmas Eve. Everyone would have to fight their way to their equipment and offices, first just to start. They should be safe here, but if the power didn’t come back on it was going to be a very uncomfortable Christmas Eve night.
“I’m going to the back porch to watch,” Denise said which made sense because it was more protected than the front.
“Okay, but be careful and get a heavy jacket, and only for a minute. Mom will kill me if you get sick over the holiday. It will be very slick and if you fall and hurt yourself we’ll have try and drive in this stuff to get you to a doctor, so stay on the porch,” Matt told his eight year old sister. It was easy to forget how young she was since she was so tall and acted mature, well mostly! In the faint light from the window, Matt saw that as she had possessively kept her puzzle box close, to keep the BOYS from having a chance to open it.
Matt decided, that checking the fuse box would be a good place to start, grabbing a handy flashlight kept by the door for emergencies and headed for the garage. When he got there, he saw Mom and Tina kneeling next to Brian. Matt saw his Dad’s welding helmet’s face shield cracked lying beside Brian and the heavy leather apron actually had rips in it.
Shining the flashlight on them, he saw that the girl wasn’t Tina, but someone else he didn’t know. Brian looked okay, a few scratches, and still holding the handle of a hammer. Scanning around, Matt saw metal pieces and fragments, with something shiny in the vise. For all the world, it looked if the head of the hammer had exploded.
He went and fished out a portable shop light, and handed his flashlight to his Mom. She looked up at him, “Are you and Denise okay?”
“Yes, Mom, it looks like lightning hit a transformer or something. All of the lights as far as I can see are out,” Matt reported. “Is he okay? He didn’t get struck by the lightning did he?”
She said what sounded like, “Or something. He seems to be okay.”
While, Matt went to the back of the house to check out the fuse box, Virginia helped Brian to his feet, still a bit dazed. Veronica helped with the other arm and got the tattered apron off. Virginia shined the flashlight on the crystal that was completely untouched, and then at the remains of the hammer. Okay, that wasn’t such a great idea; thank God, that no one was hurt.
Virginia jerked her head around, at the pounding from the front door. Now what, she breathed with exasperation. She passed Brian and the flashlight to Veronica, and made her way to the kitchen to find the emergency candles. The pounding on the door continued, and she yelled out, “I’m on the way. Hold on!”
Able to see better with the candle, she wondered where Denise was. She could hear Brian and Veronica following behind her. Virginia could hear the sleet striking the house now, as she got to the door, and was getting irritated at whoever was still POUNDING on it.
The frigid blast that came in when Virginia opened the door was placing her on edge. There standing on the porch was a tall slender man dressed from head to toe in black, despite the falling sleet. It either didn’t land on him or melted on contact. Something about him made her hackles stand up.
“Good Evening Mrs. Deacon, may I come in from the weather?” said the man in black.
Brian was still feeling a little dazed. He hadn’t expected the hammer to blow up! He and Veronica were following his Mom to the door, when he felt the crystal return to his pocket. Now that it’d happened a few times, he could tell when it found him again.
When he and Veronica with her help, turned the corner, Brian’s heart almost stopped, when he saw whom it was. Oh my God, it’s Mr. Black, from The Magic Emporium! Brian was sweating in the heat stealing air from outside trying to think of some way of telling his Mom who this REALLY was. His eye caught the hallway mirror that was just near enough to the door.
Veronica looked at him questionably with the unasked, what’s going on. Brian gestured toward the mirror, and when her eyes saw the terrible reflection of Mr. Black, they flew open in shock. She blinked in shock at the horned scaled inhuman face in the mirror that made her feel like wetting herself.
“Mom,” Brian said, “You better look at the MIRROR.”
Virginia Deacon normally was as an unflappable woman as they come. Discovering that your best friend had been murdered, said best friend’s son has been turned into a girl by your son, and that son has been buying cursed porn figures from demons in the mall was enough to give anyone a short fuse. Like all good parents, she knew that being a good actress went a long ways. Her tough Mom act showed her children what she expected of them and of the consequences of not following the rules. By the time, they knew enough to guess it was an act they would understand why.
Right now, it wasn’t an act, and she turned around to snap at Brian. Until she saw the true image of Mr. Black in the mirror and only her anger kept her running away in horror.
Mr. Black at the door gave a grim smile, “You may call me Mr. Black, for that is what my old friend, Brian calls me, isn’t it Brian?”
Brian trying not to meet those eyes, “You’re no friend of mine. You lied! You said that it would make me taller not do, do,” Brian squeezed Veronica’s helping hand, “this to someone!”
“I told you only the truth, NOT the entire truth,” said the ominous shadow on the porch. “You heard what you wanted to hear.” Looking at Brian’s scratches, “Not a good idea at all to try and break your little toy. Souls can be burned, tortured and warped, but not broken by something as simple as a hammer.” At their startled faces, he grinned a raptors smile, “That is a part of YOUR soul in there. Why else would it keep coming back to you? Of course, as I told you that it would be distilled into a more potent female element of yourself. Taking it back now could very well make you quiet unable to welcome your friend into womanhood.” He said nodding at Veronica, “Of course along with her stolen masculinity you would look freakish, you could use it and give it back to her, and then you would lose your masculinity and become, what, a eunuch or maybe a sexless child. You could take your soul back but you would be a very girly girl. On the other hand, you can take my offer. Just return the Crystal to me and regard that part of your soul as a business loss,” He smugly added.
Virginia had enough. They had declined growth hormones for Brian because of potential future health problems and there was no way that this thing, she shuddered, would get any part of his soul or anything else! “No! YOU are not welcome here you may not come in my house, get off of my property and don’t return, you demon from HELL!”
Brian had seen his Mom angry before, but never spitting-fire MAD as she shouted at Mr. Black.
The Man in Black said with chilling politeness, “I expected nothing else, but the reasonable course had to be attempted.” The sleet seemed to swirl around him like a living thing, did you know that the cold could burn and harm just as much as the fire? No? Let me demonstrate.” The wind and ice and howled as a maelstrom of brutal sleet and freezing rain slammed into them standing in the doorway.
With the ice striking machine gun like, his face and hands, Brian clutched Veronica’s hand, as it pushed them from still open door. He reached to steady his Mom as she stumbled blind from the stinging ice. Somehow, together, they fought their way back and tried to fasten the door closed, but the storm was too much for them.
Matt was wondering what in the world was going on. Nothing was wrong with the breaker box, so he went back into the house. He found a blizzard! His Mom, Brian, and that girl Veronica were fighting to shut the door. Matt rushed in like the fullback he was, throwing in his weight with theirs and together they succeeded.
A voice from outside eerily spoke, “Think about my offer, and why don’t you try to stay warm.” The house moaned as it was pounded by the winter winds.
Matt wiping the sleet from his face asked, “Would someone tell me what’s going on here?”
Denise shivered in the cold, but was excited by the white stuff even if it was just ice. She’d seen snow on TV, but this was as close as she had come. Maybe it would change to snow and they could have a White Christmas tomorrow!
She’d told Matt, that she would stay on the porch, but couldn’t resist going out in it just a little. Sliding a bit it was like roller-blading and she giggled enjoying herself. The sleet started coming down harder and that wind was so cold, so Denise tried to go back to the backdoor. The wind started blowing harder pushing her further away. She gave a cry when she fell, spinning around in a slow circle. It was becoming harder to even see the house and it was so cold.
Denise on her hands and knees crawled toward where she thought her house was, but cried out again when she started to slide sideways. She must be near the slope down to the creek and tried to stop. Denise tried to stop herself, but couldn’t and feared falling into the water any moment.
She had her breathe knocked from her as she hit something and stopped. Looking up she could only see a dark figure with strangely blue glowing eyes.
“Tsk, tsk, my dear you should learn to listen to your elders,” the unseen man told her dryly. You could’ve fallen into the water and frozen to death. That wouldn’t suit my purposes at all, yet.”
Denise tried use the stranger to pull herself up, but he just stepped back so she sprawled again. She was growing afraid, and this man was the only one who knew where she was. The white around her was no longer full of wonder as it had been just a few minutes ago. “Please help me get home!” Denise pleaded.
“Oh, I will, but let’s see if your family is ready to be reasonable now, shall we. Don’t go anywhere, we wouldn’t want you to fall in and freeze for nothing would we?” said that cold cultured voice, and it left.
Denise cried out in tears, “Don’t leave me here! Please! Don’t leave me!” she cried in the sleet surrounded by nothing but the cold and ice.
It was so cold and the ice bit where it hit. Denise felt something hard digging into her side. Searching in the dark she found it, she was sitting on the puzzle box Brian had gotten her for Christmas. Denise had wedged it in one of her jacket’s oversized pockets. Taking it out, she flung it at the ground in frustration. Chips of ice flew when the sharp corner of the box dug into the slick sleet and ice covered creek bank. Blinking, Denise reached out and dragged the box back to herself. Experimentally, she took the box in both hands, held it with one of the corners pointing down, and brought it down as hard as she could. Satisfied she could see the chips fly in the defused light. Carefully she determined where the slope was, for after all she spent all of last summer here on or near this creek.
Digging the corner of the box into the ice, Denise pulled herself up the slope. She saw that she wasn’t moving very far, but she wasn’t going to wait for that jerk to return. Using the box, Denise pulled herself slowly up the grade.
Huddled by the door covered with ice and breathing hard in the cold. Virginia saw everyone but her daughter. She grabbed her eldest and asked, “Where is Denise?”
Matt befuddled at what was going on answered, “She’s on the back porch watching the sleet.” He covered his head as everyone rushed past him. Blizzards in South Carolina and creepy voices in the night just didn’t happen! “Will someone PLEASE, tell me what’s happening?” he asked their receding backs.
Brian’s heart skipped a beat! Track or not his Mom beat all of them to the back porch. A cold chill that had nothing to do with the sleet coming down so hard that it was nothing more than a white blur, when he saw Denise wasn’t on the porch. He and Mom began shouting her name, “Denise! Denise!” Tears began to form despite the icy storm. He was vaguely aware of Veronica yelling, above the shattering blasts of the storm, an explanation at Matt.
Matt didn’t know how to judge what he was being told, but he did know that his little sister was in that hurricane of ice. He started forward off the porch, when his Mom grabbed his arm and shook her head.
Virginia held her son’s arm, “No, one child is enough. He wants that crystal. He’ll come to us.”
Matt loved his parents and knew that in the raffle for them, he and his siblings had come out ahead. He’d never seen her like this before. He’d seen so many things in those eyes as he’d grown up. Concern, love, laughter, stern warnings, and anger, but never this stone-like hardness, he relented and felt a growing despair growing in all of them as the minutes past. Matt leaned over and tried to yell above the wind, “I’ve got to try something.”
Her reply was the same, “No” with tears freezing on her cheeks and her eyes even colder.
“You should listen to your mother, she is very perceptive,” that same creepy voice that’d been out front said. A dark slim shadow walked into the dim light seemly untouched by the whirling ice. “Are you ready to be reasonable and give me what I want?” the man’s voice carried over the hiss of the falling sleet.
Matt was going to hurt this man who was threatening his sister. His Dad had taught him, that being so much larger than everyone else, you had to use restraint. He’d loved football; it was one activity that he could really cut loose and one he was good at. He could see the man’s blue eyes glinting like glass and he saw how those eyes was watching him so carefully. His Mom’s hand still held his arm like steel, but the instant that it released; he was going to hurt those eyes.
Chapter 5
Tina had never hurt inside so much in her life. All the way home, hot tears joined the icy rain running down her cheeks. Her Mom and Dad were building a fire in the family room, so it was easy to avoid them. Tina fled up the stairs trying to keep her sobs silent. She shut her door and flung herself onto her bed, covering her head with a pillow crying uncontrollably.
Tina reached for the tissue near her bed to wipe dry her face, when she saw that silver mirror that had brought her so much joy. She picked it up to dash it on the floor when a violent roar of thunder and lighting flashed and the lights went out. The only light in the room was a violet flashing reflected off of the mirror’s silvered surface. Looking behind her to see what was reflecting, she was surprised to see it snowing or something outside, but no flashing.
Puzzled, she held up the mirror again trying to find out what it was she had seen. With it pointed towards the window, the flashings started again, looking like some sort of wild lightning. One-step at a time, she backed to the window, looking at the mirrors image which showed something like out of a Sci-Fi movie with madly swirling dark purple clouds while arcs of violet lightning struck the ground. Amazed she looked out of the window with her own eyes and saw nothing but the fuzzy white stuff falling, hard.
Still sniffling from her earlier crying, Tina found in her bed-stand the flashlight that frequent thunderstorms in the summer made a necessity. Examining the mirror carefully, Tina’s mouth fell open in shock, it couldn‘t be. There was one way to be sure, as she found her hairbrush that she’d brought from Spells-R-Us and held it next to the mirror. Tina sat down heavily on her bed holding them in her hands trembling. There was no doubt that it and the mirror was a matched set
Tina used the mirror again and saw that the storm was centered over Brian’s house. Who’s car is that, she wondered when she saw it ice covered in front of his house, maybe to that boyfriend thief. Tina tried shifting the mirror around to get a better look and jumped when it magically zoomed in on the car. She squeaked, she didn’t know from the sudden zooming or seeing Ron’s car in front of Brian’s house. Thinking back about the girl that she’d seen Brian hug, remembering the ill-matched and fitting clothes, and her own recent experiences.
“Old Smelly Fecal Matter that was Ron!” Tina swore. Ron had been male just a week ago and Brian had been with her nearly every waking hour since. Therefore, what ever was going on, Brian didn’t have another girlfriend. It did mean that someone had a gender-changing whatsit and HER BOY-friend was right in the middle of it. Tina grabbed her heaviest coat and hurried into the storm.
Denise shivered again, but kept her foot wedged in the small hole she carved with the puzzle box as she inched forward up the gentle slope from the creek. She was worried that the box’s wood corner would dull or break on the ice, but it hadn’t yet.
There. She was now at the top, but she still couldn’t see her house. Inching her way further away from the bank, because she didn’t want to slide back down again, she used the box help her to stand up. Denise picked herself up, and the box it rattled. “Oh Drat,” she muttered, “I must’ve broke something inside.” Stuffing the present back into a pocket, she made her way into the gloom.
Denise held herself tight, where was she? She knew her backyard wasn’t this big! She should’ve run into the house by now. It was so hard to tell where she was with the bad light and all that flying ice. She must be going in circles somehow. Remembering something, Matt had done in his Boy Scout days; if she could draw in the ice, she would be able to correct herself if she wandered. Denise took the box back out and tried to draw her line, but the ice was just too hard. She could chip holes, but she was so cold! The box rattled again, and Denise gave a small sigh, it was already broken. Maybe she could take the box apart and lay out the pieces and then she would have her straight line to follow.
The best way would be to open the box and then it would be easier to break. Denise hadn’t any luck, opening it in the full light much less in this dim light and with frozen fingers. With her breathing shuddering, she had to try. Sliding that part and then this one and then she did it, the top slid open and there was a light inside!
Matt listened as Mr. Black spoke, “Your daughter is fine, for now. I want that crystal, and I won’t leave without it. You can be reasonable or she will suffer.”
Matt felt none of the cold. His entire attention was on that voice. Some might blame Brian for all of this, but he was still a kid. This man had stalked him and made an offer that Brian couldn’t turn down. Demon or not, no one had failed to go down after he tackled them, and this man in black was next on his list.
Tina felt so silly walking backwards but using the mirror was the only way she could see outside at all. It wasn’t too hard to sneak back outside, but it was COLD! Rarely did the temperature dip into the teens here, but it sure felt like it had now.
Denise with her teeth chattering looked into the puzzle box, a slip of paper that in the light from the box read “The Answer to Your Puzzle.” She unfolded the card with frozen fingers. Her reading was good, and it said, “Turn two steps and walk forward 5 paces.” Freezing, Denise knew she had to do something, so she followed the instructions. Walking into the side of the garden shed, Denise gave cry of relief. Looking at the note, it had changed, it now read, “WAIT.”
The ice and wind was whipping around so hard that, just walking was cruel work. The weird lightning and clouds was still dancing madly about Brian’s house. She’d passed Ron’s car and it was completely iced over. Tina was trying to find the best path to the front door when the mirror suddenly showed a light moving from behind a garden shed in the backyard. The drive and sidewalk just looked to slick to risk, but Brian’s Dad had built a small ornamental bridge to access the mailbox over a drainage ditch that was now crusted over with ice. She would have to hazard it to make for the backyard. Tina gingerly made her way across and walked backwards towards the light.
Walking backwards she almost stumbled right over Denise; she was covered in ice, and was shivering severely. “Denise! Are you all right? Tina hugged the freezing girl.
“Tina?” cried Denise in relief, “We have to get inside there’s a stranger out here somewhere, and I think he wants to hurt me!”
She held the crying girl, and went towards the back porch where she could see someone, probably looking for Denise. Awkwardly supporting her and using the mirror to see they were moving slowly fighting the sleet, falling so hard it was hissing like a snake. Tina kept whispering to Denise, “Hang on, almost there, almost there.”
It was as if the ice and wind was trying to stop them, as she and Denise struggled towards the house. Just a few more steps, and the wind died away, and Tina blinked her eyes seeing Brian, Matt, Mrs. Deacon, and Ron? Tina was trying to figure out who the man in black was when he spun around and came at her!
Matt saw two sleet covered girls stagger out of the icy maelstrom, from behind Mr. Black. His Mom released his arm and with a glance at Brian, flung himself at the man in black.
Mr. Black with a snarl, spun around menacingly at the girls just as Matt slammed into him from behind. Brian rushed by him and scooped both girls up. Matt scrambled to his feet but to his amazement, Mr. Black hadn’t fallen.
Brian using strength he didn’t know he had, practically threw the two girls to his Mom and Veronica on the porch. He’d just grabbed the railing, when a burning pain ran down his leg. Falling to the steps, he saw Mr. Black with his fingers dripping blood holding the crystal.
It wasn’t possible, but Mr. Black was still on his feet. Matt saw the cultured guise fall away, as the man in black effortlessly bounded over him and swiped at his brother Brian just as he’d reached the porch. Blood flew in an arc as if somehow the man in black had razors on his fingers like Freddy Kruger. In anger and slipping on the ice, Matt threw himself at Mr. Black again.
Virginia gathered the girls to her, in relief as her son threw them to her. She pushed them towards the door, but her heart stopped when she saw the blood fly from Brian. She and Veronica each grabbed an arm and pulled him onto the porch. Virginia cried, “No!” the Demon spun towards her eldest son as he launched himself at the demon again.
Mr. Black disdainfully met Matt’s charge slapping him down to the cold ground, and then picked him up by the throat, one handed with ease. With an evil smile he said, “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. If your brother had used this on you, I wouldn’t have to go to all of this bother.”
At Matt’s widened eyes, the Demon-thing gloated, “That’s right; you were to be my prey all along. How does it feel to be special? Now I think I owe you something special,” and brought the female face of the bloody crystal to Matt’s mouth.
Matt fought for his life, and knew that he’d been a fool. He tore at the man in black’s eyes, boxed his ears, and kicked him between his legs, and none of it made any difference. Anything human would’ve been on the ground in pain, but this Demon-thing wasn’t human.
Virginia looked hopelessly for a weapon, knowing that there just wasn’t time to get one from the house. She grabbed the first thing to hand and brought it down on Mr. Black’s head as hard as she could. Frozen water and soil exploded as the terracotta planter impacted his head.
The Demon-thing’s hand jerked and instead of Matt breathing on it, the crystal female’s face kissed his forehead. Matt shouted when it gave its unwanted bite, and twisted loose as he was showered in the bizarrely steaming mud as the black clothed man was knocked forward. Flailing he grasped the railing, and began pulling himself up the ice onto the porch. Matt felt something by his leg and he kicked out. A steel grip fastened around his foot and pulled him from the railing.
Virginia launched another planter at the man attacking her son, but he smashed it from the air. She saw Veronica join her in throwing things at the black clad man as a spade bounced off of his shoulder. Sparing a glance, Tina had gotten Brian and Denise into the house.
Matt hadn’t been treated like this since he was a child. Together with the fear what the crystal had done to him, he fought for all he was worth. He looked wildly for something to even the odds, and his eyes found the garden spade. Grasping it with both hands, he twisted looking for a way to do the most harm to his tormentor.
Virginia yelled at Veronica to keep throwing things and that she would be back. She ran into Dan’s study. Virginia flung the desk drawer open grabbing the lockbox and pulling out her key. Dan had made her practice with his handgun, concerned about him being away so often. Fumbling the lock open, she pulled out the Ruger GP 357 Magnum, and slipped a speed-loader into on her mad dash back to rescue her son.
Tina saw Ron struggling with another oversized planter and watched the unequal battle between Matt and that man in black. She didn’t want to leave Brian, but his cuts weren’t bleeding too badly.
He looked her in the eye, “I’ll be okay, go. Denise can help me, go!”
Tina grasped his hand tightly, and then ran to help Ron lift the heavy pot. Together they heaved it, right at the man in black just as he was pulling Matt upside down into the air by his leg.
Matt felt himself come free off the ground and then swung the spade up right between Mr. Black’s legs. Mr. Black blocked Matt’s clumsy blow, but never saw the planter aimed right at him.
The other planter had hurt this Damn Demon, and Matt watched as this much larger one did the same as it struck Mr. Black dead on. Matt covered his ears as the Demon gave a scream of pain like breaking glass, and he threw Matt from him and grasped his head, still holding the crystal. Matt sailed across his icy yard, landed and slid perilously close to the ice-crusted, rain-filled ditch.
Covering their ears as well, the girls watched as the blood colored lips of the crystal bit the Demon’s mud covered head and another howl of pain came from it, as a dark pink fluid tickled into the crystal.
The hideous creature’s disguise now tattered and covered in boiling mud, gave them a look of hatred. It took the crystal and drank the male essence within. It said, “I was to leave you alive, drained of your strength to let your pity for yourself poison you, but now I think it will be more satisfying to just kill you!”
Matt had just regained his feet, and wiped the drop of blood from the crystal’s bite from his forehead. He’d seen the Demon-thing move before, and he was as ready for it as he could be. Matt watched as it raised its arms and a tidal wave of sleet and ice erupted from behind it and rushed towards him.
Tina looked at the mud bubbling on the steaming head of the Demon, and yelled to Ron, “It’s some kind of elemental. Hit it with anything made of earth. They grabbed another large pot of dirt, and moved in for the attack.
Matt couldn’t even cry as the wall of ice smashed him backwards, and he fell though the thinly crusted ice of the rain-swollen ditch. The cold water shocked him nearly senseless, and he weakly pulled himself out. His legs were numb and his feet weren’t working right.
Tina could hear Ron give a mutter that this would’ve been a lot easier when she was still a boy. Tina grunted back, “I know what you mean,” while struggling under the planter’s weight. Glancing up, Tina saw the Demon thing was chanting as if it was casting a spell or something like from one of the Role-Playing-Games she had played. She couldn’t even see Matt anymore for the swirling mass of ice. On Ron’s count of three, she heaved the planter with all her strength, but it fell short caught by a fierce gust of wind.
Virginia ran out to the porch with her heart filled with concern for her son. Matt wasn’t anywhere in sight, but the author of tonight’s horrors was still there doing some kind of macabre dance. With the strength of purpose only a mother protecting her young could bring, she aimed and fired center mass into him.
The thing in black barely jerked, when the heavy .357Mag round struck him. He stopped his dance and laughed, laughing at her pain. Virginia had never hated anything as much as at moment and the hot pink glowing crystal that had the souls of her children inside it mocked her. The immortal, unbreakable souls of her children, a calm cold voice told her as she brought the handgun up again to fire.
Tina deafened by the large handgun, stared as the man in black continued to laugh, as Brian’s Mom fired shot after shot and missed! Four shots fired and as the fifth and last one hurled at the man in black she saw the crystal erupt into a blinding torrent of fire and lightning, as the heavy wad-cutter bullet smashed into it.
Virginia stood there with stony satisfaction looking at the still moving charred Demon. Then her heart plummeted as her searching eyes found her son. He had straggled out of the ditch, but his legs looked wrong somehow, and he was fighting his way back to her.
.
Tina watched in amazement as the blackened and burnt Demon-thing came to its feet. Wondering what was happening here, she and Ron leaned on the icicled rail, out of things to throw and out of breath.
Ron rasped to her, “So you too?”
Tina nodded her head yes and asked, “Where did tall, dark, and ugly come from?”
Ron gestured at Brian lying in the doorway, “It sold Brian a cursed thing, and when we tried to destroy it, he came and demanded it back.” Searching her face, Ron puzzled, asked, “WHO were you?”
Tina sighed and put her hand over Ron’s, and firmly said, “Tina, now and forever.”
To her surprise, Ron said after a pause, “Well, I guess that makes me Veronica. Shit!”
Virginia started down the steps when Mr. Black’s mangled form addressed her, “You’ve lost your son! Already the crystal is transforming her, and with my spell to complete it, what is left will freeze into a statue of beauty. She’ll go just fine with a music box I have back at my shop. You won’t even have a body to morn!
Matt’s feet refused to work right as the ice impossibly began growing up his legs, but remembering David Blaine’s Frozen in Time poster, knew he had very little time. He had to keep his focus! With his strangely arched frozen feet, he slid more than walked. He saw his Mom confront that Thing, and making a difficult decision, he focused on going to the front. He had to trust her to take care of the kids back there, while he had all he could do, just to save himself.
Tina was blinded by the roar of ice and sleet as a blizzard descended upon them. She and Veronica grasped hands and retreated inside the house.
Virginia wanted more than anything to go after Matt, but she had to think of the other kids. The Demon’s ice forced her inside and with everyone’s help, they shut the door.
Chapter 6
Caught in the wind, Matt started spinning like some mad top sliding and slipping. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a reflection of himself in the darkened window of his home. His legs were an obscene parody of a ballerina‘s! His toes were pointed and his jeans were being transformed into some type of tutu from the waist down. His maddening spins made sense now, as he saw that the Thing was toying with him. Like a music box figure spinning trapped in a dance of ice.
Virginia ran from window to window, looking for Matt praying that he could make it back. She yelled at Brian and the girls to get her some more ammunition in her mad dash.
Brian felt the crystal return, but now it felt different in some way after it‘d bitten Mr. Black. Hearing his Moms cry for ammunition, he struggled up. His wound was burning, but wasn’t bleeding too badly. Pointing into the study, he said, “Bullets are in the desk drawer.” Denise grabbed an arm and together hobbled after their Mom.
Matt found he could control himself somewhat by using his arms to alter the spinning that wouldn’t stop. The ice had advanced to his waist and a part wondered if he was a he anymore. Forcing the voice away, the struggle to live was more powerful. Matt worked his way near to the house and reached for the shrubs and branches there, but his twirl ripped them from his hands.
She flung the window up just in time to see Matt’s hands get ripped from the branches leaving nothing, but a few falling leaves in the icy wind. Virginia’s heart hammered at the brief view of her son’s transformation. She slammed the window closed, and leaped to the next, hoping to catch him.
Brian saw his Mom’s path and being unable to keep up he guided Denise to the next one after. Using his weight to shove the table out of the way, while Denise opened the window, Brian didn’t know what to expect, when he saw his brother. Guilt surged though him, as Matt danced into sight. That was his brother being stripped of his very identity. The brother he loved and respected, helplessly being murdered in front of him.
He felt the ice ripping into his chest, and his breathing stabbing like no pain he’d ever experienced before. Matt saw the window come open, and in desperation reached out for those waiting arms.
Virginia set herself, to catch her son, and make everything okay again, even as her heart ached at the pain on his face. She heard the girls come up behind her, and without turning, she said tensely, “Get ready to grab us, when I pull him in.” His hands clutched hers and together they pulled for safety. “Help me,” Virginia grasped as it was pulling her out the window. The girls had her legs and she could see freezing tears on Matt’s face as the Demonic agency sought to rip him from her.
Brian felt a sob build in his chest as he watched their battle. He couldn’t get there in time, but if they failed, he had to succeed. “Denise we have to have something we can grab him with,” said Brian as he searched the room for something to help.
Matt despaired as inch by inch his grip slid from his Mom’s hands. The crazed sleet laden winds that had him wouldn’t relent and was tirelessly overcoming him. A cry of “NO!” echoed from him and his family as the icy winds ripped him from them
Virginia was thrown backwards when she lost Matt, and she and the girls fell in a sprawl. Tears were trying to run down her cheeks, as she pulled herself up. Then hope flickered dimly as she heard Brian yell urgently, “Hurry Mom, Please!”
Denise tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed at the drapes. Wincing at the pain, he jumped up, and snagged the curtain rod. Brian pushed the rod out of the window, knowing that this might be their last chance the next window was blocked by the Christmas tree and gifts with no way to get to the window. He yelled for his Mom and told Denise to hold on tight to the drapes end.
He was losing all feeling now, and the pain was everywhere. Fear was there in his freezing heart, but he heard a voice saying, “Fear is the Mind Killer.” Matt saw his brother with the rod, and made a last effort to overcome his icy assassin.
Virginia and the girls ran up freezing and breathing hard, and she saw what Brian had in mind. She reached and grabbed the drapes. Catching Brian’s eye she said, “Bring your brother in.” and he nodded solemnly.
There was a tremendous yank on the drapes as Matt grabbed it. Brian had his good leg braced on the window when the wind fought them for their brother’s life. The spin began to wrap him in the drapes, slowly dragging Matt back to them. Brian could feel the blood trickling down his leg at the effort, but he could see that Matt was almost at his end.
Virginia and the girls fought the cold tug-of-war with her son’s life at stake. She could see both of Brian’s feet were now on the windowsill and the drops of blood striking the floor. The sound of wet sneakers scrambling on the hardwood floor and yells of effort filled the house.
It was ironic it was the transformation that saved him. Matt’s waist, transformed into a much slimmer form, allowed the drapes to wrap around him several times and held him as his strength failed. Then suddenly he flew into the window as they all fell shivering on to the floor.
Virginia pulled herself to Matt’s side. She could see his legs weren’t encased in ice they were glass! His lips were blue, and his breath released frost as if somehow it was colder inside him than the outside. The transformation had reached nearly to his chest, and was now an icy parody of a ballerina below that. She didn’t know what to do. How do you do first aid for this?
Brian took out the full Pink glowing crystal, and looked at it intently. The darker pink, that he guessed came from Mr. Black was almost all gone now overcome by the hotter pink of what he supposed was his female essence or whatever. If he was right, the thing that was killing his brother, was part of the female essence-thing, if he could stop that, the ice might stop too.
A part of him was screaming No! But he couldn’t ask the girls or his Mom to empty the pink side so he could give Matt his Maleness, besides, he would be just a child or eunuch. Brian remembered what the wizard had said that he had to look inside himself to find his answer of what to do. When he touched the crystal, the pink arced like a plasma lamp at his touch. Tina was looking over his shoulder, he asked her to touch it only on the center, and nothing happened just when he touched it. It was part of him and it wanted to come home.
He held Tina’s hand and said softly, “I’m sorry Tina.”
She looked at him and the crystal, then back at him. No! She shook her head and sent tears flying.
“I have to make this right and he’s dying. I can’t think of anything else to do. I wish….,” Brian turned away unable to say more and went to his brother’s side. “Mom, I think I can help.” As she looked up at him, he said, “If I take this back inside of me,” He said while holding up the crystal. “And give Matt the male, it might save him, but this is a part of Ron too. If we give it to Matt, Ron can never get it back.
Veronica looked at them looking at her and said, “I have said before that I’m Veronica” With a small tear in her eyes, she continued looking at Tina, “Now and forever”
Virginia didn’t want anything else to do with that damned crystal, but Matt was dying! She unwillingly gave Brian a small nod and held both of her son’s hands.
Brian breathed on the female’s face and the brilliant tide of pink rushed into him. He recoiled backwards as the sweet-tart-sour-bitter taste consumed him.
Virginia and the girls watched as the crystal emptied the hot pink fluid into Brian and his features softened, his hair grew shinier and fuller, until he looked more like a female body builder than anything else.
He took the crystal and doing one the hardest things he’d every done. Brian pressed it to his leg figuring that it hurting so much he wouldn’t be able to feel it anyways, and let it bite him. His and Ron’s masculinity flowed blue into it. Brian could feel his, well, HER body changing as well, but did her best to ignore it as she pressed the crystal to her brother’s lips, his faltering breath frosting the glass.
Everyone was holding their breath, when Matt convulsed as if hit by an enormous electrical shock. A blue arc of lightning jumped to Matt as the last of it left the crystal.
Brian grasped her hand, as the arc snatched the crystal from her hand and it flew across the room and smashed into the floor, where it shattered into a fine powder.
Outside a burnt angry form clothed in black tatters, shuddered as its spell failed and backlashed sending it and its malevolent riot of ice back to the hell from which it came. The wind grew quiet and the hard ice and sleet softened into a gentle snow.
Chapter 7
Virginia cried as she saw Matt, whole and healthy lying in a puddle of cold water, unconscious, but alive.
Brian hugged her brother and said, “I love you bro.”
She saw that there would be no slow changes this time, Brian’s clothes hung on her now, but ironically, she was taller. In the change, Brian’s wounds had been healed and she could see that her road wouldn’t be easy for the signs of a great beauty were there under the dirt and sodden overlarge clothes. Virginia hugged her new daughter, telling her what a brave thing she’d done through both of their tears.
Brian took a breath as his Mom released him to tend to Matt. She looked at her now slender hands, when Denise tapped her on the shoulder, and gave her hug. Veronica touched her face and smiled and nodded, giving her approval. Brian felt inside that she’d done the right thing, but knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
Tina went to Brian, as she tried to turn away from her. Firmly she hugged the taller girl saying, “No matter what, you will always be loved by me!” She looked Brian in the eye, “Always, do you hear me, now and forever, no matter what,” she cried.
Then it seemed everyone was crying. That all changed to a weeping laughter, when Matt woke up and croaked, “Will someone shut the window its cold in here.”
Virginia’s eye caught Veronica sitting quietly stroking Matt’s hair, and she recalled that Veronica had kept close to Brian when he had Ron’s masculinity. Virginia wondered if it was because of sharing that essence was what brought that closeness. It would bear keeping a close eye on them, because they both had a lot to work though but she owed her old friend’s offspring the chance to make right.
The power flickered and come back on revealing the mess, their unwanted Christmas guest had brought with him. Everyone was exhausted, but she found robes and towels to get everyone dry. No one wanted to do anything, because of the ordeal, but things had to be straightened up. She paired up Tina and Brian to pick up and throw down towels on the puddles, Matt, Veronica, and Denise to shut windows and to help in the picking up.
After the moans had ended, she went to the kitchen to revive dinner and fix something hot to drink for everyone while they still had power. Virginia put up the handgun and retrieved the ammo from the kids; with so many changes that had happened to them she didn’t want the gun anywhere near them.
Brian and Tina didn’t say much to each other, as they did their chores. Brian was heartbroken that he’d lost everything that he’d thought he wanted. She was no longer even a he, but things had been put as right as she could get them. Tina was lost to Brian now too, and could only be a friend.
After dinner, Virginia got Veronica and Brian dressed in a combination of hers and Denise things since all of their old stuff wouldn’t fit or was wet. Tina and Denise, she was proud to see were helping the new initiates into girlhood, but guessed, that when womanhood came with their first periods it would be traumatic.
It was as bad as Brian had feared when she really saw herself for the first time. She was so slim that her breasts and hips that seemed much larger than they were. She already knew that she was moving awkwardly now that her legs were so much longer. What sucked was she had to become a girl to be taller; she was 5’11” and was wearing her Mom’s things, it all felt so wrong!
Tina watched Brian carefully and whenever she could see her getting overwhelmed, was there holding a hand with a smile. Tina knew how hard this was, and she’d wanted it more than anything in the world! She wasn’t sure how she felt about all of this. A part thought that this was so UNFAIR, but another was committed to helping her Love through this.
Virginia could see how Brian and Veronica were making such an effort not to whine or complain, but the thought that physical and mental exhaustion might have something to do with that. It made her smile to see them try to out macho the other by not saying anything if the other didn’t. Wrestling them into underwear hadn’t been too hard, but the sleepwear was a bit more difficult
When Denise suggested having a pajama’s party in the family room with the large foldout bed, she knew it was a very good idea not to have one of her changelings alone, where they could think too much. She was just too tired to think what to do about Ron’s dad. It would have to wait, but she vowed that he would get what was coming to him.
Tina called her parents to ask them since the weather was so bad if she could join Denise’s impromptu PJ party. She assured them that it would be all girls and sighed as she put up the phone. As they were getting ready for bed, Tina found Veronica and asked her, “Please don’t tell anyone else I’m like you.”
Veronica gave her a measuring look, and said, “Not even Brian?”
“Especially not Brian,” Tina said emphatically.
“As long as no one’s being hurt, okay,” Veronica said, and chewing on her lip, “Are we friends?”
“After what we’ve been though, we’re all friends! Friends now and forever!” said Tina and warmly hugged her new friend.
At long last, everyone was asleep and Denise’s PJ party wasn’t as bad as Brian had feared. It was a lot like boy scouts camping, but instead of stories they traded what was good about being a girl. Anyone who couldn’t think of something good had to do something silly like stand on one foot and hop or something more absurd. They were all so tired that this didn’t last long, but helped the new girls understand that it wasn’t all that bad. Just thinking about periods was enough to make Brian shudder though.
Every sensation from her too sensitive skin to the breasts, Brian was really trying hard not to think about, made her aware of what had happened to her. She supposed that she would have to change her name like Veronica did, and she wasn’t looking forward to that either. Taking a deep breath, Brian let it out slowly. She had chosen to do this because it was the right thing to do, and now she had to live with it. It’d been sometime since she had prayed before going to bed, but now she did asking for the serenity to accept what she couldn’t change. Soon her discomfort faded into sleep.
Brian awoke slowly and saw that someone was sitting beside her on the sofa bed.
“Shush, Brian, I am here to help,” the woman said gently.
Alarmed Brian sat up, but couldn’t do anything but sit there with her mouth gaping open at the Angel beside her!
The Angel giggled and reached out to gently close Brian’s mouth; “Young ladies shouldn’t do that!” she said in her silvery voice soft and gentle.
Brian couldn’t take her eyes off of the Angel’s beautiful form, but those eyes! It was the selfless love in those sparkling sapphire blue eyes, which warmed her heart and soul. She had large wings that were white, but every color of the rainbow at the same time shimmered in them somehow.
Amused, the Angel smiled, “You’ve had a Demon at your door tonight, and now you’re surprised by an Angel sitting on your bed? You deserve it Dear One for what you’ve done on this night,” she said, as she smoothed Brian’s hair.
Finding her voice, “I can’t change back, can I?” fearing the answer Brian asked.
Turning serious, those caring eyes showed compassion, “No, Dear One. Your brother’s male essence was devoured by that evil one, and you gave yours to replace his. No magic can change that. Because of sharing that part of yourselves, you two will always be close. Yes, to answer your question, Veronica and Matt share a closeness as well, and it may well lead to something special. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Yeah, but can you me tell if Tina was Tim?” asked Brian.
“You figured it out?” She folded her wings about them.
“Not till just now,” said Brian. “Tina told me she would always love me no matter what, and Tim told me in the same way that we would always be friends no matter what. Why?” Brian asked as tears began to fall from her eyes.
“Because Tim loved you and believed in his heart that he should have been a girl all along, in a way that is what started this entire thing.”
Brian blinked at her, “Tim, hmmm, Tina caused all of this?”
She stroked Brian’s hair with a smile, “In a way. The two of you were meant to be together, and when Tina found a way to become true to her inner self, the possibilities of what you two could do together soared. That along with Matt’s future was too much temptation for them to resist meddling. Yes Matt, he’s going to become quiet a famous ball player and even a more important role model.
“They sent in a nasty character to corrupt you both, to kill two birds with one stone, and that’s why I’m here,” she said.
Brian was blinking hard now, Him, and Tina together, and Matt as a big sports star?
“Mr. Black as you called him, was one of the original fallen. Not a highly placed demon, but a nasty one.”
“You mean like a Demonic Goon?” asked Brian.
Smiling the Angel said, “Yes, definitely a goon. You ruined all of their plans, and Mr. Black isn’t going to enjoy his boss’s displeasure.” Turning serious, she said, “When you bravely took that part of his essence into yourself, you also took possession of a small spark of divinity.”
“Does that mean I’m going to become evil?” Brian asked becoming alarmed.
“No, Dear One, it does mean that your life will be anything but ordinary. It will change your life in ways even I cannot say, but remember even the fallen were all part of heaven’s host before the betrayal. It does mean that you‘ll get a little help for all you‘ve done, and to help manage your new gift.”
The Angel reached up with one slim finger to her own eye and drew down a single tear. With another finger, she caught one of Brian’s and carefully added them together. Shimmering the two drops merged into one, and she lightly blew on it. Gleaming with a soft light, the tear glowed till it was pearly white. Smiling the Angel plucked a hair and strung the now pearly drop on to it.
She motioned for Brian to lower her head, and Brian thought that well, it was an Angel, and she fastened the pearl around her neck.
“What is it? Brian wanted to know. She hadn’t much luck with strange objects of late.
“It’s an Angel’s tear of course,” laughed the Angel. When you are feeling overwhelmed, and can’t find anything good about being a girl rub it and it’ll help you get passed the bad feelings. It will also serve as some protection if any like Mr. Black comes back.
“So it’s like Prozac on a string?” Brian asked.
Giggling the Angel answered, “No, it doesn’t make the hurt go away, but helps YOU make the hurt go away. I also have a special task for you. You have to be Veronica’s friend and help her. This isn’t going to be easy for her and the loss of her Mother hurt her more than anyone knows. I know that you, Tina, and Matt will help, but it is going to be difficult for all of you.”
Getting up she said, “I have to go now. Sleep and Merry Christmas Brian”
“Wait!” Brian said, “I’ve thought of something. Why couldn’t Mr. Black come in? I thought that only Vampires had to ask to enter a house?”
“Sleep now, Brian,” she said softly.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she asked. Brian sighed as the Angel shook her head no and blew her a kiss that had Brian soon asleep.
The next morning, Brian was awaken by the aroma of bacon cooking, confused why he was sleeping downstairs in the family room when he saw all of the girls around him, her memory returned. The horrible events of yesterday were real. Sneaking a peak down the front of her pajamas and those slender hands made it clear that “SHE” was the correct pronoun. Brian’s breath did catch when she found the pearl on its golden thread. THAT had been real too! During the embarrassing visit to the bathroom, Brian rubbed the pearl, and the thought came that at least she didn’t have to worry about getting hit in the testicles. She couldn’t help looking Heavenward and saying dryly, “Gee thanks.”
In a daze, Brian drifted though breakfast, but cringed when Mom said that Dad would be home around Noon. Dad had gotten a rent-a-car in Charlotte, but the two-hour trip would take more like four with the winter driving conditions. They were to go ahead and open the presents and save Dad’s for later.
Despite Tina staying over a little longer, and everyone else being nice to her, Brian couldn’t help moping as they all trooped into the living room. Most of HIS presents were going to have to be returned now.
Matt as the “acting-man-of-the-house” was handing out presents out from under the tree. Brian and Veronica had turned a shade of red, when Denise commented that Matt was the only man in the house, although Mom shushed her quiet.
It was an unusual Christmas morning, with everyone going quite whenever a gift for Brian would come up, and Matt would look to Mom. She would then shake her head yes or no. If no, it went into the growing pile of gifts of clothes and such that would have to be returned. The yes gifts were the ones that Brian got to open. They were nice, and she’d gotten an IPOD plus some video games, but the no pile was definitely the larger of the two.
Feeling sorry for herself and a little guilty at spoiling everyone’s Christmas, Brian noticed how Veronica had pulled herself up into a knot and the sadness on her face. Brian recalled that Angel had said Veronica was really missing her Mom, and this would be Veronica’s first Christmas without her.
Recalling the experiment from this morning in the bathroom, she softly rubbed the pearl. Sure, there was a lot of stuff to go back, but even the unused stuff bought during HIS growing spurt would have to go back as well. There would be a shopping trip with Mom, more than likely with Veronica and Denise included too. While she’d been worrying about herself, her Mom had come perilously close to losing two children. She knew her Mom enjoyed shopping; for all that, she was frugal. It would be a chance for them to be together and do something her Mom liked. Christmas was after all wasn’t about presents, but about gifts from the heart.
Opening eyes she hadn’t known she’d closed, Brian looked over at her “YES” pile and found a Sony PSP that she got from an Aunt, although she already had gotten one from the same absent-minded Aunt for her birthday. “Veronica,” Brian said, “I didn’t have time to get you anything, but I already have one of these. Do you mind a re-gift?” and handed it to her.
Brian thought she was going to refuse, as she saw anger flash across Veronica’s face, but then Tina touched Veronica’s shoulder saying, “Friends now and forever remember.” The anger vanished and a quiet smile took its place, “Thank you,” she said a little huskily.
Brian saw her Mom silently, mouth thank you at her.
After that, everyone found something to re-gift to Veronica. Every time it happened, Denise would laugh out “RE-GIFT!” and everyone would join in. Slowly Brian saw Veronica unknot herself and relax a little. She saw that Matt was touching Veronica’s hand, and she was smiling back.
Which brought up the uncomfortable thought, would she start to like boys now? shudder! This time she didn’t need the pearl, as Tina nudged her, and the warm feelings she had always felt with her friend was still there. Brian didn’t know how to interpret them, but she knew that Tina would always be there for her.
All of the gifts, but for ones to or from Brian’s Dad, and Brian’s boy pile as Denise called it. She seemed to think Brian’s change as an improvement. Matt was going though the last ones when, he found another one.
Matt said, “Hold on there’s a couple more in the back.” He pulled out a large box, looked at the card, and looked puzzled.
“Well, who is it for?” asked their Mom.
“It says it’s for Veronica,” Matt said, looking around trying to figure out who put it there. Everyone else was doing the same. He passed the large clothing box to her and she found a card on top. Expectantly the house was quiet except for her sudden indrawn breath. “You better look at this Mrs. Deacon,” said Veronica and she passed it to Mom.
Opening the box, it was packed full of girl’s underwear and other clothes and as she started removing clothes from the box it became clear that they couldn’t have all fit inside. Brian didn’t recognize any of the labels, but it was clear that Denise and Mom did from their reactions.
With her curiosity burning, “What does it say Mom,” Brian asked.
“It’s a birth certificate, social security card and driver license for Veronica Smith and a letter giving me guardian-ship if anything should happen to Liz Smith her mother, with tears running down her cheeks. There is also a statement saying, she was doing this because of her husband’s abuse and that she fears for herself and her DAUGHTER’S life,” Virginia answered.
Veronica had worked the gift tag that said, “Veronica” on it loose, and when she read, the other side tears flowed, as she couldn’t read it aloud. Matt who was sitting closest took it gently from her and read. “To my beautiful Daughter Veronica from Liz Smith, Mom.”
Everyone turned and looked at Brian! “I didn’t do anything really. I didn’t buy anything or invite anyone in honest!” said Brian. Thinking that, well, she did have that dream, and did have the necklace, should she tell someone?
Matt went back to checking underneath the tree, and said plaintively, “Mom, there’s another one back here.
Giving, Brian a hard look, she said, “Well let’s see who it’s for.”
Matt choking down laughter, said, “For the young lady formerly known as Brian,” and handed it to her.
It was a large clothing box like Veronica’s had been. The tag on top did read as Matt had said, but it also read, “From: Angel” and Brian blushed thinking about her dream. She felt her Mom’s eyes on her and said, “Mom can I talk to you?” Seeing how everyone else including Veronica, was watching her intently. “In private, please?”
Taking the card that came with the gift, together they rose, and went into the kitchen. “Okay young Maaa…Lady Give.” Mom said.
Last night when I was asleep, I had a dream. I thought it was a dream. An Angel visited me, and we talked.” Watching her Mom’s eyebrows rise again, Brian continued, “She said that Matt, Tina, and I were going to do some great things, and that was why Mr. Black came after us. When I swallowed that “Pink Stuff” I also got some special stuff that I’ll need some help with. She gave me this pearl, and said it would help when I feel real bad about what happened, and help protect me if something like Mr. Black came back. I didn’t make any promises, or take anything but the pearl. She was an Angel, it was okay wasn’t it?”
Virginia sighed, “May I see it?”
When Brian showed her, it looked liked an imitation pearl, attached to a plastic string. When Virginia touched it, she knew that Brian had told her the truth for the shimmering perfection of the pearl and the sleekness of the wire holding it was the finest she’d ever touched; the pearl seemed to pulse with life even if her eyes told her something different, this was a very special gift indeed.
Opening the envelope with the card, on parchment no less, told Virginia how she had a special child and asked forgiveness for renaming her, Brianna. Also included like with Veronica’s were a birth certificate, Social Security card, and a Driver’s License.
“Is it okay Mom?” asked Brian not knowing what to think. Too much had happened.
“Well at least you have an Angel looking after you. It’s okay as long as you can live with the name Brianna. I wouldn’t know how to change all of this, and I hope it’s all real and not forgeries.”
Brianna answered, “I knew that I’d have to have another name, but I guess Angel couldn’t wait. It’s close to Brian so it should help me get use to it.”
“Well let’s see what else is in that box, Brianna?” Virginia asked her newly named daughter.
Taking her Mom’s hand before they went back to the others, “Mom, I love you.” and had the pleasure of seeing tears in her Mom’s eyes. Together they went back with shining eyes, Mother and Daughter.
It’d been one hell of a trip, but the journey’s end was in sight. Dan had dropped off Jeff at his house, and had to listen to his complaints about where was that son of his, because his car wasn’t in the drive. That was about the final nail in Jeff’s coffin as far as Dan was concerned. Four and half hours with him driving the whole way and Jeff did nothing but sleep off his hangover in the backseat. If it hadn’t been for their fellow cast-a-away, he would’ve gone crazy or wrecked.
Turning the final turn onto his street, Dan was amazed at the amount of ice and broken tree limbs around his home. It looked if the storm was worse here than anywhere else. He could see broken planters out back and was that a curtain rod sticking up out of that snow bank? Why was Ron’s car parked in front? What had happened here? Virginia only said that she had a strange story for him when he got home.
Well, he had a story too. He and Jeff were ready to leave in the rental car, when a young woman asked him if they were heading this way. She was trying to get home too, and he had the last rental car. She said her name was Angel, and she wanted to share expenses in exchange for a ride. She had this incredible calming influence about her, that despite the stress of the driving passed the wrecks, blockages, and stranded motorists let him keep them safe.
When he dropped her off, she insisted on giving him this strand of pearls that she said was part of a package deal that she didn’t want or need and wanted him to have them for his generous ride home. They were some of the most amazing pearls he’d ever seen. She’d even had written quick note for Virginia, “For a remarkable woman with a wonderful family, Love Angel.” Dan gathered up his bags and made his way to the front door thinking, that whatever had happen here couldn’t beat what happened to him. Dan went inside to his family glad to be home. What a Christmas!
The End
Merry Christmas!
Epilogue part 1
Dannie stuck her head into the backroom, “Boss you won’t believe who just came in…” and stopped as she saw the wizards face. “ Or maybe you would.” she’d seen a lot of strange and unusual customers since starting work here but, an ANGEL?
The wizard walked up to the elegantly dressed woman that smiled warmly at him. “Can I interest you in something, maybe a box of chocolates?” He asked her.
“You know that I’m here to thank you, you old fraud,” she smilingly scolded him. “It would’ve been easy to do nothing, and just let things take their own course. You do have a nice touch with knowing just what to GIVE.” and seeing the frown on his face, “Oh excuse me, SELL people to get what you want.”
The Wizard stuck his hands into his raggedy robe and harrumphed, “It was just business. Couldn’t have someone stealing a customer from me could I? That would be bad for business.”
Crossing her arms, Angel inquired, “It was just business where he just happened to return to hell at?”
Smiling slightly, “I’m sure I know nothing about that, whatever it is,” the Wizard said. “Now about those chocolates?”
Smiling back, “I’ll pass this time” and gave the Wizard a kiss on the cheek. She turned and walked out leaving the old man to mutter about spoiling his reputation.
Turning he saw Dannie watching him and the Wizard glared at her, “Don’t you have something to do?”
Dannie jumped to find something, anything to leave the Boss be.
When she was out of sight, the old man couldn’t help himself, but grinned as he thought about what happened to Mr. Black. It had been business, but no one said you couldn’t enjoy it!
Epilogue part 2
The Demon known as Mr. Black grimaced as he was roughly yanked back to Hell by the explosive spell failure. Ice and sleet swirled around him, as he dropped to his knees in the agony from the backlash and soul-fire. Baal wouldn’t be happy, with him, but he’d his failures before. The Demon knew, he should be at one the main portals and would have some time before Baal was notified.
What he wasn’t expecting was that awful screaming and shrieking! Where in Hell was he? Forcing his eyes open, he saw what only could be described as the cutest blue hoofs. Confused, he wondered what SHE was doing here, when he looked around and saw that he was surrounded by a sea of similar cloven hoofs from wet with icy rain, pissed and angry succubi. The succubus and incubus, he had imprisoned in the crystal were still lying in shock from being released. As the blue tinted succubus angrily flicked her cold, dripping wet tail, Mr. Black found that even in Hell there’s no fury like that of women done wrong and sometimes justice can be found in the strangest places.
The End, End, End
Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year
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She now struggled to travel only a few dozen yards, where once mankind had once traveled easily to every corner of their world.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional As always my thanks go out to Holly for helping proof and generally make this readable. Another big thanks goes to Paula who for some reason puts up me and my insane ranting about story ideas, Thanks Love! Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Sometime back a good friend told me of her laboring back from the bus stop during the winter. This is what my imagination made of that tale. Enjoy!
The wind’s life stealing chill ripped and tore at her worn parka, threatening to steal what little warmth she still had. The ice crunched under her boots as its cleats bit into the slippery surface.
She glanced up from her fur lined hood, braving the turbulent frozen air as it caused her eyes to tear. The tracks iced on her cheeks as she corrected her path to the building she was using as her storehouse. The brutal weather had torn up the guide ropes she had setup only a few months before. Only dire need made her dare winter’s ire.
About her, the long abandoned skyscrapers stood with their tops obscured by the constant stormy dark clouds. Their once shiny facades had long ago been sandblasted by the wind and weather and were now bleached almost white. The missing broken windows in the ice covered concrete structures made the buildings looked as if they were some sort of unimaginable massive bones suffering from an awful rotting disease impaling the Earth Mother.
About them in rusting circles were the remains of the vehicles that had once carried their passengers speedily into and out of the city. Once serving as the blood for the vital arteries of this once living city of millions, they now stained the arctic white landscape with their rusted hulks.
She now struggled to travel only a few dozen yards, where once mankind had once traveled easily to every corner of their world. They had even reached their own moon and even dared to dream of going much farther. Now, dreams were all that remained of those ambitions.
Behind her she heard the scramble of her pursuer. The gray wolf she had watched for some years now had grown careless with hunger. Back just after the rising seas and the plagues that came with them had decimated the rest of the all too arrogant humankind, mother nature had thrived and sought to take back what man had stolen.
It was an effort fated to fail, because the damage done to the biosphere had been just too severe. The endless winters had killed most plant life, and now the food chain was getting far too short for her comfort.
Who would have guessed global warming would turn out to be so damn cold? She knew that it had just been one factor in the catastrophes. Before all mass communications had ended, some scientist had said something about that big volcano and the nuclear war between India and Pakistan had tipped a balance already teetering into ruin.
All she knew was that soon after the coastal cities had flooded and everyone it seemed had gotten sick, it had gotten cold, real cold and it had never warmed back up. There had been a lot of bad storms, and then finding food had gotten hard. The cities had quickly become death traps, and the survivors tried to escape them.
She had always been a survivor, and used at being shunned because of what she was. Caution had become an ingrained part of her, and so she remained while so many others had perished. It had now come to this.
Just a few more steps to safety. So many times she had fought the temptation to end it all. What was the point of living, when so many others were already dead? What did she had to live for? There were no warm days of summer to look forward to. No smiling children playing happily or the promise of merrier times ahead. No, the blue skies had turned dark and heavy, and hope for better days was as dead as this city she lived in.
She’d pushed her doubts and depression aside. It was nothing new to someone like herself. She had walked that path before and had vowed that she would fight to the last. Strange that thought, ‘the last’.
As far as she knew, that was exactly what she had become, The Last. One by one the voices on the short-wave radio had fallen silent until hers was the only voice left.
Then this very morning for the first time in many years a voice had asked, “Is anyone out there?”
Hope had bloomed in her heart, followed by bitter despair. She had leaped after the microphone, answering excitedly only to realize they couldn’t hear her. After so long her equipment while it still could listen, could no longer transmit.
The good news was there was another set not too far away. The bad was the temperature right now was even colder than normal. It was far below zero. To try to answer might kill her. It hadn’t even been a choice. So here she was fighting to live, while the wolves nipped at her heels just like they must have at her long ago ancestors.
A flash of gray fur caught her eye, Lady Gray Wolf. She hadn’t seen the male wolf in some weeks, but the lone remaining female still fought to survive. All in all, she couldn’t begrudge her fellow survivor. They were both just trying to live. If not for the tons of emergency canned rations she’d found in one of the old cold war basement bomb shelters, she would’ve starved long ago.
The dry cold air burned as she struggled to breath. Salvation was so close … she could see the door just a few feet away. Lady Gray and the ending she represented was closer. Her gloved hands desperately grabbed for door handle, panic causing her heart to almost burst.
The sound of the ice cracking and the squeal of the hinges was a joyful sound to her ears. Not a moment too soon she threw her meager weight against the door. A scant second later Lady Gray slammed into it, trying to reach her prey.
Exhausted and shaking from the cold and stress, her chest heaving trying to breath she whispered. “I’m sorry Milady Gray. I’ll not be your dinner today. Mayhap if our visitors can arrive in time, they might have food for us both.
Taking the faded red plastic container of fuel from her pack she started the small generator. Praying this second radio still worked, she turned it on, searching for the signal she’d heard earlier. “Hello? I am here. Are you still there?”
Long moments passed and with her fingers crossed and with a prayer upon her lips, she pleaded, “Please! I’m here! Where are you??
“Yes we hear you!” the reply almost caused her to collapse as tears filled her eyes.
The sound of that wondrous voice continued, “We heard you calling and we came. It was a far journey. We’re sorry it took so long, but now we are here.”
There was more, but between telling them how to get to her and her tears, she couldn’t remember all the details. She did recall warning them about Lady Gray and asking them not to harm her fellow survivor.
Shivering, she hoped they wasn’t far away as she hovered near the small heater plugged into her generator for warmth. This room was not as well insulated as her home, but she didn’t dare try to make it back to her more comfortable home.
Startled she awoke, hearing a knocking at the door. She must’ve dozed off waiting for her visitors. It’d been a very long time since she had seen or spoken with another person.
Slowly she opened door, but nothing prepared her for what greeted her.
“Be not afraid we come in peace.” spoke the silhouetted figure.
‘Well, they did say they had come from far away,’ was her fading thought as her knees buckled beneath her.
Before she could fall, the slender space-suited figure caught her gently.
She blinked her eyes, unused to all the attention after so many years alone. A small sea of the slim aliens surrounded her bed. They’d told her they’d come from the star humans called Pegasi and they had set out as soon as they’d heard the very beginning of Earth’s radio broadcasts so many years before.
The problem was the distance. Pegasi was 75 light-years distant. Although they had sent signals back to Earth, they didn’t reach here till 125 years after the signals they’d first noticed had been sent. Their ships could reach near light speed, but it still had taken them almost 80 years to reach Earth. They feared their trip had been in vain when Earth’s prolific radio broadcasts had started to fail.
They explained that Earth wasn’t the first race to destabilize their ecosystem as it became more technically advanced. In fact, it seemed to relatively common. The same had happened to their people as well, but another group of aliens from yet another star had helped save them.
That’s why when they heard Earth’s first calls they loaded up everything they could think of and blasted off to help. Think of it as paying forward they had told her.
Of course they had questions for her. They were a little confused. What they knew of Earthlings was from radio and TV. They were confused as to her gender.
Taking a deep breath she hated to tell them the bad news. They seemed to have the impression that she could reproduce and somehow save the human race from extinction for although they were still looking they had yet to find anyone else.
It was an old pain for her as well, but they deserved to know. Slowly she began her story with her voice cracking from disuse, “Well, you see years ago when I was born something went wrong. I should’ve been a girl but …”
The Artac’s inner eyelids fluttered in contentment as the Earthling began her story, which was being carefully recorded. They had feared the worst, but their prayers had been granted by the most high. It’d been a experience to try even the most hardened Jemhar when one by one Earth’s radio signals had grown silent. To know an entire planet of people so talented in the arts and music was passing into extinction, while they could nothing but witness their passing was a horrendously painful experience. No matter what they did, they were going to arrive too late to help keep these Earthlings from that long night.
The Artac’s crew had rejoiced upon hearing this Earthling’s reply, and had rushed to her assistance. They had taken special care to save the four legged predator as well, for all remaining species they could find would be of great help in reestablishing the ecological balance. It would be a long term project, but they had come prepared for worse. After all it’d taken them 80 earth years just to arrive here.
There were some sadness when examining the Earthling after she had collapsed that she seemed an atypical specimen without the capability to reproduce naturally. There was a time when the only thing they could have done would be to treat her with as much respect and honor as any Jemhar. Things were different now, since the Saviors who had saved their world had given them the tools to help others as they themselves been helped.
The Artec preened, thinking of how surprised the Earthling would be to find that she would be a mother after all!
The process would take time, and such a drastic reduction in the genetic variety of the species would cause problems. The Artec was confident that they could be overcome. Cocking its head, as the Earthling gave her name it was pleased. The Earthling born as Adam, would become the mother of her race!
Please forgive me for the ending but I couldna’ help me-self!
I sit here at my kitchen table staring at it. There really wasn’t nothing much to look at. A bulky looking briefcase sized box with a screen displaying a very attractive woman with a very obvious touch screen button flashing off to the side.
That’s all, just an over large tablet or odd shaped laptop. No identifying trademarks or even a seam. Hell the damn thing didn’t have a cord or battery either. It shouldn’t work at all.
But what it did do was something else again.
All I had to do was press the button and nothing would be the same for me ever again. I can’t claim that my life was that bad, but not all that happy either. All my life, I’d my deep dark secret that at times I’d kept zealously even from myself. It’d ridden my back as insidious as any addictive monkey or big black dog hounding my every step.
My secret couldn’t be escaped, but at times it rode less heavily on my heart. But always, the shame and guilt not only made me continue keeping it a secret but bury it even deeper until it once more dragged me down into depression.
And now this: me and this button. One simple act would erase all need for that secret that I’ve kept for so long. The hell of it was if I did then there would be other secrets. Would these new ones prove less of a burden than the old?
I sighed. I knew of boi and gurls who would’ve already broken their arms reaching for the damn thing. I however was conflicted. Was this really what I wanted? In a very real way this was a suicide.
The me that everyone thought they knew would cease to exist. I would be so different that for all practical purposes I would be another person. Someone that lived only in my heart and dreams, kept hidden for so very long.
No I decided, the problem wasn’t the secret or even with me. It was everyone else. They all believed and accept me as fitting in a certain way into their reality. Hence lay the problem. If I pressed that button, I will be defying all they thought they knew. Some, perhaps all, would not be able to accept that. I would lose friends and almost certainly my job.
I eyes tracked over to the clock. Like out of a bad western, the hands slowly moved marking my time was running out. My wife would soon be home. The one who above I loved with all that I am. Who I expected to live out the rest of my life with … But.
Except for my long kept secret and now this button.
I’d made vows and promises to her that I’d never broken once in all the years of our marriage. I’d never dreamed it would come to this.
Was it a betrayal?
I shook my head still staring at the button. The figure floating there beside it wasn’t another woman. She wasn’t trying to steal me from my wife or commit some kind of infidelity. It was only me in a different wrapping. Perhaps in a very real way, a me unwrapped from the secrets that’d kept that part of me hidden for so very long.
Should I talk about it with my wife? Would she understand? I knew for certain that she was aware I was different. How many wives could honestly ask their husband fashion questions and get good advice? She’d complain at times I had a better sense of style and trends than she did. I’d replied I had the strengths of my weaknesses. I wasn’t the most masculine of guys on the block, but that also meant I avoided a lot of their macho BS.
One of the few people who knew my secret once told me, “It’s an intrinsically selfish thing.” She was right. I did want this. That was why I was still here staring at that damn thing.
On the other hand everyone else was selfish too. They all wanted me to be like this and act like so. While I gave lip service to all of that, I knew I fell short. My hair was longer than most and my nails weren’t cut into the quick like so many I worked with. Small things maybe, but they helped keep me sane. I would never ever be exactly what they wanted me to be. The best I could do was fake it sorta kinda.
I knew my wife. She was kind and had a heart as big as the sky. But after years together, she was definitely not bi-sexual. If I pushed that button our relationship as we knew it was over. It might survive in another form as friends since that was how it’d began but never that so close intimacy we shared for so long.
However, I also just couldn’t push the button and disappear. Just leaving without any explanation or knowing if I was alive or dead would hurt her more than I could bear imagining. Our marriage had survived for so long because we had very few secrets. Like I said before I suspected that my secret wasn’t much of one for her.
Sitting there I stared at the button.
So what do I do? What do I do?
Inspired by the Box and Elrod’s MAU stories.
In the Future many things will be possible making the most wonderful of dreams come true. However, it should always be remembered that nightmares are also dreams.
Pesky Disclaimer that I almost forgot!
This is loosely based on an old TV Game show and other fiction based off of it. This is my interpretation. I'm not making a dime off of this because I don't own nothing!
Thanks as always goes the marvelous Cathy! Thanks Hon!
By
Grover
10/29/2017
Chapter One
Appropriate Quotes
Isle de Tempete
Capitol City of Sainte Trinite'
“You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” I quoted from one of my most favorite George Lucas films to my friend Darlene.
It was with great tribulation that I eyed the Caribbean Paradise of Isle de Tempete. Island of Storms. That was because like it's name says the place was right in the sweetest spot in the Caribbean to be hit by damn near every hurricane that came anywhere vaguely near it or so it seemed.
A couple of decades ago the place looked like reaching third world status would've been a great achievement. Poor with little to no worthwhile natural resources, the natives barely survived day to day much less year to year.
That all changed when a group of wealthy, but old and dying assholes decided to live forever or at least as long as their money held out. Nanotechnology could accomplish miracles, but some of those techniques weren't exactly moral much less legal in the rest of the world. Nearly every country in the world forbid the sort of procedures required to make an old fart with too much money young again.
“Aw, come on, Gene.” Darlene batted her false lashes at me. “It's not that bad.”
“I suppose we didn't have to sign 'Lack of Liability' papers just to get on the boat?” My sarcasm was thick enough to cut the BS. This place was dangerous with a capitol D. Unlike the usual picturesque island paradise, rather than look rundown, the port looked new and modern. It wasn't exactly because of blood money, but it wasn't 'clean' either.
“Well,” My transsexual friend admitted, “That is why it is recommended to have friends along.”
“And that is why I came.” My smile was genuine. “You are my friend and I like you just the way you are.
“Not the way a bunch of,” I rethought my words. Such things could get me and her in more trouble than we wanted. “Island bureaucrats with too much power might want to remake you.”
“Gene,” her voice showed more of her masculine birth as she turned serious. “This place lives and breathes medical tourism. Of all the world this is the one place where I can be rebirthed as the person I should've been in the first place.
“The miracles they can do here have saved so many lives.” But then she sighed. “Yes, it can also be abused. I know it and you know it. The people in charge here also know it, so behave, you hear me, Mister?”
We both knew she wasn't talking about the native bureaucrats. The Billionaires, that more or less bought the place, were the real rulers here and they did abuse their power. They transformed those who angered them into everything from hybrid animals to sexual toys. Stories of their vengeance bordered on that of the gods of myths and legends.
“I understand.” Damn right I did! “I have no desire to piss off anyone who can turn me into just about anything they want. I'll be a good boy.”
“Perhaps they have power that no one should, but nothing comes without cost.” She smiled, reaching for my hand.
“I know, I know.” Smiling back, I held her hand. More than a few people have thought we were lovers, but really we were just very old and good friends. We'd meet many years ago serving together in the Army and our friendship had survived thick and thin ever since.
Darlene's coming 'out' had set my world spinning, but after having some time to get my head straight, our friendship became even stronger. I wasn't 'that way' but I knew some folks had a hard time accepting that gals and guys could just be friends. Once 'she' was my brother, now she was my sister. It was real easy in the end. Just like the guy with the pointed ears said, 'You are and always have been my friend.'
'Nuff Said!
Going through customs wasn't difficult. We only had to show our visas, passports as well as the signed and notarized 'Enter at own risk' papers. They didn't even look at our baggage.
Now, leaving would be a whole other enchilada. The type of nanotechnology practiced here was verboten in just about every country in the whole world. Before we would be allowed to leave, any nanites had to be either, removed or absolutely inert, dead with no chance of revival.
The decon procedures and the scanning were as intrusive and unpleasant as they came. Yes, we had to sign yet more papers saying we knew all of that too!
On the other hand, once we got out of the city of Sainte Trinite's passenger terminal, nothing too outrageous was visible. Much like Kuwait, the natives were treated like royalty and received a very healthy income just for breathing. All the menial workers were immigrants mostly from poorer nearby islands.
The not 'too' part referred to how attractive the populace appeared. No one was fat, limped, or even had baldness except for those who I guess wanted the Kelly Savalas look. I'd gotten a lot of this from various internet sites and forums. Even the workers were 'upgraded' so to present the best face to the customers.
Knowing what to look for, I found the pins they wore indicating what clinic did their 'improvements' advertising at the most base level. Besides that everything shouted of the money invested in this place.
The roads were the new solar energy ceramic cobblestones that took full advantage of the Caribbean sunny weather. The buildings were all storm resistant and bustled with business. Even the usual crazy island paradise traffic had orderly bike paths and well kept vehicles very much a different from the colorful buses running only because of courtesy of bailing wire and excessive elbow grease.
Darlene squealed as our cab pulled up. Smiling, I understood, at least intellectual, her excitement. She'd saved up for years for this and had withstood me and my doubts about the wisdom of coming here to Isle de Tempete.
“It's not wise to race into the storm!” I half-joked with her.
Unfortunately, she was right about what this place offered. Almost any hospital could use the wider medical community's approved nanites to give her a feminine appearance. Only in the Eye of the Storm could she be rebuilt as a functioning woman. The key words here are appearance and and functioning.
From my failed marriage, I had no idea why anyone would ever want to menstruate. My Ex, the Wicked Witch of the East,West, and all points between had made my life an unforgettable hell during those 'times' which all too soon became 'all' the time.
'Insensitive clod' I may well be, I'd never learned how to read minds. Nope, couldn't do it then and can't do it now. Even the ethically challenged doctors here haven't figured that one out, at least not yet.
“Hey,” I laughed, “Calm down! You don't have your first appointment till tomorrow.”
“I just feel like all of my dreams are coming true!” Her voice kinda broke at that. “Finally, I get to be me and my closest friend is at my side.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled theatrically. “Just try and keep the after procedure shopping down to only a few hours. I'm not as young as I used to be!”
“You could get that seen to while we're here.” Darlene elbowed me.
“Not no,” I kept my smile with effort. “But hell no! Doctors are here to fix the things that go wrong. I've earned my bald spot, wrinkles and my pot belly.” Patting my slight middle age spread, that had developed despite staying active. Courier work had become even more important in the world, given the problems with network and data security issues. Hackers were an ever present danger and the only way to completely avoid the problem was to hand carry data from one stand-alone system to another.
I, with my security clearance and military training, was a perfect fit. Mind you I never was a combat type, but instead worked on the intelligence side of the house. I already knew the procedures and protocols for keeping information safe, which gave me an advantage on the paperwork side of the business.
Additionally, if someone really wanted something they were going to get it if they were willing to pay enough. Fortunately for me hackers or the ones who hire them weren't the type to ambush armored vans and the ones who could hire mercenaries normally decided to throw money at corrupting a employee, creating an inside man instead. It was simply a better investment than hijacking an armored van and armed guards.
The one time I had run into a confrontation, through common sense, and I acknowledge more than a little luck, things had worked out to my benefit. Hell, I'd even gotten one hell of a bonus from not only my company, but the clients as well.
That had turned into my retirement fund which was a good thing since the Ex had cleaned me out until the bitch had been stupid enough to off herself with an overdose that even the miraculous medical science of today could revive. I hadn't rejoiced because at one time I had really loved her, but she'd made her bed and had slept in it. These days with my simple needs, I was actually in the green with savings no less.
The occasional Science Fiction and Fantasy convention did cause hits to my account, but hey, it was a part of who I was, right down to the 'Vulcan' ears in my display case. They sat right next to my 'sonic screwdriver' replica and my dagger, 'Sting.'
“Luddite,” she huffed playfully. “If you can fix it, why not?”
“I'm happy with who I am.” Shrugging, I opened the door as we arrived at the Islander Hotel. “Here we are, but I wonder how long you'll be able to sit still.”
“You!” Darlene gave me a little shove, not that I budged an inch. I was pretty solidly built and she had worked hard at having something that resembled a feminine figure. As a matter of fact she had to put on some pounds so the nanites could do their work safely. You can't build the Taj Mahal Hall without the construction materials to do so.
“Here you go my lady.” I held out my arm, channeling 30 some odd years of role-playing. “May all your dreams come true.”
“Why thank you kind sir!” Her wide smile said it all.
She was my dearest friend.
Master Control Central Computer ( MC3/Emm-Cee-Cube)
The very sophisticated machine bordered on artificial intelligence with the way it ran the Isle of Storms. From the traffic control system, public utilities, immigration, and police, to the day to day administration and bureaucracy, MC3 controlled it all.
A part of its duties were making certain that the Masters' special 'needs' were meet. In some cases it was assisting in a kidnapping to lining up contestants for the 'games' they favored and played.
This particular game was 'Royals or Serfs' that was better known as 'Princess or Slave.' Normally they very seldom lacked available contestants, but an unfortunate accident had caused an opening. MC3 could simply have moved everyone up one slot, but the Masters did enjoy when things were shaken up from time to time.
Last year with that involuntary contestant who had literally willed themselves to death after the participating audience had decided on a set of changes that very much went against their mindset had caused some problems. Public relations were always very vital to the Isle, given most of the rest of the world saw them in a negative light despite the unique services they offered.
Additional precautions were put in place so that would not be happening again, but the damage was done. What was needed was a contestant whose story could be spun to positive effect while still interesting the Masters.
Microseconds later a list was complied while a series of programs investigated each one for suitability. A selection was made.
Gene Rodgers Aldric was accompanying a Darlene Jane Franklin on a standard medical tourism visit. They were life long friends although psychological profiles confirmed reported evidence that romance was not involved. It was something MC3 could work with.
More information going from financial and covering both Aldric and Franklin's military records were gathered and compiled into a summery and report. An interesting datum appeared. Aldric had been involved with foiling one of the Masters' schemes at acquiring a necessary document that would've leveraged the buyout of a property that was of interest.
Perhaps it'd been a minor incident and the man had been only acting as contracted, but the Masters' very rarely ever forgot a slight. To have someone literally walk into their control was something that could not be ignored.
If the computer could've frowned it would have. How did it miss this during the immigration and visa checks? Still disgruntled, it was traced back to Aldric's security company's policy of keeping employee's identities confidential. MC3 had found the link only by backtracking the bank records.
An amended protocol insured that such overlooked data would not happen again. A recommendation and report were sent to the Masters human assistants for approval. It went on with the work of managing an island empire uncaring of the human life it had put in jeopardy.
In the end it was just a computer running a program after all.
Chapter Two
Dark Clouds
Day of First Examination
Sainte Trinite' Marketplace
Gene Aldric
“Would it do any good for me to tell you to calm down again?” I couldn't help laughing. I'd seen first 'him' and then 'her' from everything from sad, happy, depressed, pissed off, and just about everything in-between. However this was the first time I'd ever seen her ecstatically overwhelmed with joy.
“But my appointment went great!” Darlene's eyes glowed. “I had my first injection of nanties and tomorrow morning I'll get the second!”
“And the actual transformation is set for that afternoon.” Grinning, I finished her sentence. “I know! You've only told me about a dozen times or so.”
“I'm suppose to pig out the rest of today and tomorrow morning.” She went over the doctor's directions. “Then it's fasting until after my re-birth.”
“Well, even with those tiny machines in you, food can only be digested just so fast.” I reasoned. “You still have to be put out just like for any surgery. Nobody likes someone being sick all over them. Besides, being rebuilt like you've shown me has got to be painful.
“Come on.” I took my friend's arm. “Let's check out that list of recommended food. I'm getting nibblish myself.”
“I thought you would never ask.” Darlene giggled. “Lead on kind sir!”
A Conference of Masters
The teleconference connected a half dozen of the most powerful men and one woman on the planet. Most certainly more women were part of the wider circle of Masters, but these were the founders, the ones with the ambition and the dream as well as more importantly the power to make it reality.
Security and secrecy still ruled their interactions. Thus they never revealed their actual identities or faces. The silhouettes they used did have security identifiers so that they knew who they were talking with as well as to foil covert actions against them.
“There is no doubt.” Alpha stated plainly. “This Aldric is the perfect contestant. I am less happy that using him will mandate at the very least a scripted happy ending, but I will get my pound of flesh. He caused me a considerable amount of wasted effort.”
“It will be good for the ratings.” Delta acknowledged. “Subscriptions are down after that 'incident' last year. This will boost the pay-for-views as well as the premium memberships.”
The Princess or Slave game show advertised itself as being the chance to achieve your dreams, but in truth it was a highly profitable venture that allowed 'members' to vote on a choice of penalties for contestants. It allowed the common masses a taste of the kind of power the Masters possessed.
“How many rounds are you thinking?” Beta inquired. “Go too far and even the stupidest viewer will know it's not a happy ending at all.”
“Far enough to ensure Aldric will not have a job.” Alpha's stony face was almost gleeful if you knew what to look for.
“That means no career change.” Zeta grunted. “That's one of the most popular alternations seeing the high and mighty reduced to menial labor.”
“It's just Bread and Circuses.” Delta remarked. “That will still satisfy the masses, although we should think about using our votes to engineer ties for additional transformations. That will help satisfy our usual viewers since we're reducing the number of rounds.”
Nods went across the screens. They as Inner Circle got to see the voting results before they were posted and had the chance to add theirs to the ones of their choice. It was still mostly honest despite like any profitable game, it was skewed heavily in the favor of the House or in this case the Masters.
“That's fine.” Alpha agreed. “For him to suffer for the inconvenience he caused he has to, needs to, still be aware. An empty headed nymphet without a thought in her pretty head does not provide that.”
“I call for the vote.” Delta followed protocol.
No one was surprised at the tally. Instructions went out to the Princess or Slave's active 'organizers.'
There was a contestant to be 'volunteered.'
Day of Procedure
Sainte Trinite' Marketplace
Gene Aldric
“No you don't” I guided Darlene away from the display of freshly baked pastries. It took some willpower on my part too. They did smell good, but I wasn't about to tempt or tease my friend by eating when she couldn't.
Considering the breakfast she put away, it surprised me despite knowing she was overflowing with fuel hungry nanties. Still after missing lunch I was getting hungry, big breakfast or not. On the other hand missing a meal was nothing new for me. It was all part of the job, and that was not counting my middle-age breadbasket about my waist.
“I know.” She grumbled. “Nothing but water. That doesn't mean I'm not ready to start chewing on your arm!”
“No worse than being on a field problem soaking wet and freezing cold when Lt. I-can't-find-my-own-ass got us lost.” I reminded her of one of the times that both of us had been absolutely miserable.
“I thought the First Sergeant was going tear him to bits right in front of the whole company.” Darlene giggled.
“Perish the very thought of Top Bailey acting so unprofessional.” I grasped my chest dramatically. “I do know that Captain Lee, all five feet four of her did ream the LT out, but good, out of sight.”
“After suitable coaching by First Sergeant Bailey before hand of course.” She added lost in tour old Army memories.
“Of course.” Grinning, I lead her down the market street. Today was about the only day we were going to have just to waste time and it helped keep Darlene occupied during the wait. “She reminded him that officer or not he was the least educated of the whole squad. Intelligence analysts one and all, half of us were fully qualified as cartographers. Maps were our bread and butter.
“Yeah, he was an idiot.” She agreed. “Hogging the only map while insisting he wasn't lost was just normal male BS. It took less than twenty minutes to get us un-lost once we got the map.”
“Hey, I'm not that bad!” Defending myself, I headed for a table that didn't sell food. “Besides, the Captain did point out that stupid shit like that got people killed. When you have experts and specialists available, you use them.”
“So true.” Darlene sighed, misquoting. “Those were the best of times and the worst of times.”
“It was the people that made them so.” I added trying to ignore the surveillance that covered this whole island. It made the controversial camera coverage in London seem sparse the way even the alleys were covered.
Only an idiot more stupid than even LT. Brown even thought about trying to steal anything here. You would get caught and it was damn near a guarantee that they would end up on one of the Isle's twisted game shows. Ending as a sex toy, or a 'pet' with no rights was pretty much the same as a death sentence. Whatever made you, you was gone. I think I heard Darlene call it identity death once. Dead was dead.
“So what do you think?” I looked at my so battered old watch. “Time to head back?”
“Yes!” Darlene exclaimed nearly starting to hop and skip.
“Well, okay then.” Smiling, I let her drag me along. I'd spied the small bar and grill that I'd been told about. It was close to the hospital and it was said to have decent fare. That was good enough for me. With a full belly, I had a good book I wanted to finish. Pretty much a perfect night to try and keep from worrying about my friend.
The place to go for medical transformations or not it was still 'a hive of scum and villainy.'
Mr. Perez and Mr. Wong
Game contestant recruiters
Talent scouts
The two suited men followed the pair on their way to the tranny's appointment. After working together for so long they kept up a constant meaningless banter that had nothing to do with their 'subjects' of interest.
“Well, Mr. Perez I do believe you owe me 20 Francs.” Despite being of different races both were short, stocky and swarthy men not that either had been born that way. Having lived rather 'exciting' lives a change in appearance had brought their loyalty to their current employers. “Costa Rica never had a chance against the Netherlands.”
“I rather thought Jermaine would've made more of a difference.” The other replied, handing his partner the cash with a callused hand. Both were well practiced in violence. “He was not at the top of his game.”
“True,” The Asian folded the money putting it away in his suit's jacket. Carrying weapons made it unwise to dig for his wallet. Having sufficient money easy to reach, but not a temptation for thieves was a hard habit to break despite living here on the Isle of Storms. “However, as good as Costa Rica has proven to be, their odds against South Korea is less favorable.”
“I agree, Mr. Wong.” The Hispanic nodded, tracking their 'subjects' as they entered the nanotechnology clinic. “It should be a good game, but I'm hesitant to lay down money. However, Diamonque is fighting Serilda this weekend in San Diego. That German is a tank and I think she'll tear that Muay Thai bimbo to pieces.
“Ridiculous, Mr Perez!” Boxing lacks the flexibility to deal with Diamonque despite being able to tank hits. It's far better to not get hit at all. I'll put the usual 20 Francs on my girl from Australia.”
“Done, Mr. Wong.” They didn't show a sign of them picking up their subject as he left the clinic heading straight for the Storm Center Bar and Grill.
“I do believe I could use a brew.” The Hispanic's eyes gleamed. This was going to be so easy.
“I'm feeling a bit dry myself.” The Asian answered, smiling like a shark sensing blood in the water. “Shall we?”
“We shall, Mr. Wong.” The other replied. “Oh yes, we shall.”
Chapter Three
Bad News and Worse News
Day After Procedure
Sainte Trinite' Medical Facility
Darlene Franklin
“How do you feel?” A nurse asked her.
“A bit out of sorts, but not bad.” She carefully stretched a little. “A little sore and stiff, I guess.”
“That's normal.” Nurse Simms smiled checking a data pad. “With a nanite transformation like yours, your muscles and bones are still settling into their new configurations. In the old days you would be looking a weeks of physical therapy, but give you another few hours you'll be able to walk out.”
“Yay,” Darlene smiled, meaning every word. “For modern medicine. Do you have a mirror?”
“One of the first things all of our patients ask for.” Nurse Simms laughed. “A hand mirror is on your nightstand, but be careful. Your coordination is likely still off.”
“This is a test isn't it?” She carefully reached for and picked up the mirror.
“The more you get used to your new self the quicker the entire process will be.” The nurse watched ready to help if needed.
Darlene evaluated the face she saw. It was very close to the one she and the doctor had talked over and decided on. Not a classical beauty, but attractive and one that could've been an aunt's or niece face perhaps. Her as she should be, finally!
Gray eyes and her dark hair went well together, she thought. The heart shape pleased her much more that that old Kirk Douglas chin from hell. Just as nice was the late twenties appearance instead of nearly fifty although that was as much a side-effect of being rebuilt by nanotechnology.
All that nasty plaque and other unwanted products accumulated during a half century of life was mostly used as fuel for the ever hungry tiny machines. A fountain of youth it wasn't, but it did tend to make one come out ahead despite the incredible stresses changing put on the body. She would likely live another fifty or more years and keep in relative good health.
Speaking of good health or more to the point the lack there of.
“Where's my friend, Gene?” She wondered if he'd wandered off looking for some of the infamously unhealthy food he was so fond of. He was her best friend and she worried about him.
“Well, you see he got into some trouble.” The nurse wouldn't meet her eyes. “He got drunk and started a fight.”
“Oh no.” Darlene buried her face in her hands. This was so not good. Gene had never been in any kind of trouble at all with the exception of a traffic ticket and a parking citation or two. Add to the fact that he rarely drank at all, it was very suspicious and suggestive that somehow he'd been 'noticed' by those who were very, very powerful and dangerous.
“He doesn't drink much.” She sighed. “And when he does, he's sleepy just from a dose of NyQuil and is out like a light.”
“Oh,” Nurse Simms got it.
“Can I use my tablet?” The recently changed woman asked. “I have a lot of research to do.”
“Honey,” the nurse tried to comfort her. “If it's what you're thinking there is not much anyone can do.”
“Perhaps, I can't.” Darlene firmed her resolve. “But I have friends.”
Gene Aldric
Sainte Trinite' Police Confinement Facility
I would've moaned again if it hadn't hurt so much the first time. Opening my eyes was a mistake too, but I had to see where the hell I was. It didn't help much since the whole world was a giant blur.
All that did was make me frantically look for something to throw up in. I mostly made it, not that it fixed anything. At most it was one less thing to clean up. Now more alert I could see I was in a detention cell.
Okay, really not good.
That gave me the focus to search for the last thing I remembered. There was this bar and I had ordered a grilled steak sandwich with the works. The waitress had been rather cute and friendly.
Everything else was a gray haze like having a dream I only vaguely recalled in flashes that made no real sense.
Holding my aching head, that set off alarms all over the place. Pretty young things out clubbing ain't the only ones who have to worry about being drugged. One of my fellow couriers had gotten it in his morning coffee. The poor bastard ended up naked in a ditch without his vehicle or the confidential parcels he'd signed out for delivery.
Because of that, all of us had been warned about the dangers and what to look for. The thing was most guys usually aren't that careful or aware. It's blind spot the bad guys look for, but I was careful, damn it!
Unfortunately I couldn't do a thing if it'd been added to my food or a pair working together had got me. One as the distraction, while the other slipped me the drug. The thing was all the surveillance on this piece of paradise it should've caught who or whatever in the act.
If not, then someone with real pull and power wanted me in the system and that was not good at all. I had no desire to end up a sex toy, a puppy, cat or any other kind of pet, for kinky purposes or not!
I'm happy being me, damn it!
A normal looking guy who can make a decent living and who's a bit of a geeky nerd.
This place could chew me up and what came out wouldn't be me at all. That's besides not knowing what in the world I did wrong to end up here. Perhaps I should've watched my words more carefully, but I didn't think I'd said anything too out of line or critical of the current regime.
What worried me more was that Darlene could be caught up in this shit too.
Turn that 'could' into a damn certainty.
The big problem was I was clueless about what was going on.
I had not a clue as to what I did or what they say I did. How was Darlene? Did she make her transformation okay or was that interfered with as well?
Until I got some answers all I could do was sit here feeling like the whole world hated me.
Then my defense council walked in.
“I'm Dominic Alaverz.” The man walked in carrying a tablet. “I'm your court appointed defense attorney.”
“So how bad it it?” I asked, “I haven't a clear memory of what happened. I went into a Bar and Grill for a late lunch and woke up here.”
“You're in considerable trouble.” The man wouldn't meet my eyes. “Multiple accounts of assault and battery as well as causing quite a bit of property damage.
“Some five thousand Francs worth.” He checked his notes.
“What exactly does that mean for me?” I took a deep breath, he knew I was being set up. I was sure of it. Anywhere else it might've meant something, but not here. The big bosses in charge decided what the law was and for some reason they didn't like me.
“With conclusive verifiable video evidence.” Alvarez stated, “You've already been found guilty. At this point it's only the punishment that is left to be decided.”
I nodded. There was good damn reasons why the State Department advised against travel here. Just forget a jury of peers or innocent before being proved guilty and any other thoughts of true justice.
“Judge Demarco has ruled against leveling fines. He feels that justice would be best serve in other ways.”
My stomach roiled like an active volcano. The Isle did not have prisons. Their jails worked just fine as the temporary holding facilities they were intended to be. Why would they need prisons when they could warp anyone into just about just anything they want?
Here paying your debt to society might very well mean from doing it on your back to becoming a 'service' animal. I really didn't want to move down the evolutionary ladder. Most days I felt it was difficult enough to just stay where I was in spite of Darlene's playful allegations that guys stood lower than the ladies any way.
All guys aren't cavemen looking to drag a woman away. Her reply was maybe not, but enough are. That I couldn't argue since I'd heard more than my fill of locker room talk that supported her, damn it!
“However,” he straightened his tie. “The Gaming Authority has offered to buy out your 'service' in exchange for you becoming an contestant on one of their programs.”
And there was the carrot after showing the stick.
“Do you have any recommendations?” I was curious because, he did know I'd been set up and I suspected had orders to steer me in a given direction.
“Mr. Aldric,” my defense adviser sighed. “There aren't any good choices here, only less bad. Thrown into the general service pool, I don't think you'll survive with your mind and sense of self intact. Someone wants you broken. It might only be just enough to convince you to take the Gaming Authority's offer because that seems to be where 'they' want you.
“So accepting the contestant thing now will save me from abuse meant to convince me take their offer?” Okay, I got that I'm being railroaded and whoever did it had pretty specific plans involving one of those damn mixed up game shows. The bits I'd seen did not help my lack of faith in my fellow human beings.
“That's debatable.” The poor guy winced. “There is a chance that you could walk away as rich as any Prince.”
“But the odds are not in my favor.” I continued for him. Obviously Mr. Alvarez did not like this situation.
“House odds, Mr. Aldric.” he shrugged helplessly. “The General Service Pool does have some rules of what can and can't be done to you. The Gaming Authority has none aside from what their interactive audience votes for.”
“And no one is as vicious as a mob.” I wanted to bang my head on the table. From my army training, I knew anyone could be broken. There was only finding the right tool for the job and I had no illusions that they couldn't find the one that would work just fine on yours truly.
On the other hand, this was sounding more and more like they wanted me on the most infamous mockery of a game in modern history. Just last year, a girl transitioning was changed to such a degree that she killed herself right there in front of everyone. Just willed herself to death, because what that aforementioned mob had done to her.
Think of the most utterly offensive parody of a male transitioning to female and that would be close.
“Precisely,” he nodded. “And due to the near toxic levels of nanotechnology necessary to make their transformations appear spontaneously in front of their audience it is as good as permanent.”
“So I agree to this or they break me and then make me agree anyways.” Can anyone say unhappy? “I still end up doped full of nanites facing the troll mob.”
The man supposedly in my corner nodded.
It was a classic case of damned if you do and damned if you don't, or in other words, just plain damned.
“Do I have any time to consider this?” I thought carefully on my phrasing of this. “My friend was having a procedure done and what happens to me affects both of our travel plans.”
“You have until tomorrow.” He answered. “You'll be shipped off to the General Service Pool then.”
“Please,” Damn, that was so hard to do! If I remember correctly she wouldn't be released until noonish depending on how well things went. That doesn't give us much time. Old Napoleon was so right. 'You can ask me for anything, but time. “Could you please pass on this information to Ms. Darlene Franklin? She is listed as my emergency contact since I don't have any family. That information should be in my visa paperwork as well as in my wallet.”
“I see nothing wrong with your request.” The lawyer nodded. “I'll deliver it as soon as we're done here.”
“Thank you.” I kept my sigh to myself. Darlene was going to go nuts over this! First she would blame me for getting into a fight. Then she'll blame herself when she works out that I'd been setup and because she'd been the one to drag me here despite my misgivings.
Somewhere along the line, my friend would put her research hat on and dive into the data sea. Knowing her, she'll find someone near or on that Gaming Authority and try to make a deal to try and keep me safe.
The last thing we need is for both us to end up on that damn show!
As Mr. Alvarez left I kept my fingers crossed. Please let him do as he says he would!
The Accountant
The Gaming Authority
Royalty or Serf Game Offices
He lounged back in his expensive chair enjoying the finest cigar that Havana produced. This was a great time to be alive. The finer things in life could be safely indulged because of wonderful advances in medical science. All the money he'd made by hook and crook during his life, he now got to enjoy while being healthy as a horse.
Sure he had to stay here on the Isle because of all the warrants out for his arrest and unfortunately he was not a member of the Inner Circle either with all the power they had at their command.
However with his playing the part of the Accountant on 'Royalty or Serf,' he got to play god. That more than made up for the rest. It was such a rush to take these peons and break their dreams by turning them into things they despised. How funny it was that each and every one thought they would be luckier than those that had come before them.
They always ran a clean game, but any idiot who had even passed high school math knew that the odds always favored the House. With the great majority of contestants becoming slaves, they were sold at a very healthy profit.
So what if it was labeled under the fiction of labor contracts, being intellectual equals with morons made them dependents of The Gaming Authority. Forget the official name, because everyone knew it was just politically correct advertising. Princess or Slave was right on the money.
No matter their genitalia, no man had or would ever leave his show after playing the Game, bimbos, sex toys, and pleasure pets one and all. He had sampled the wares of many of them including a few of those that walked away. Even those would forever bear the stamp of the Game he ruled.
On his wall was the five 'contestants' who had beaten the odds and retained their sense of self and identity. Some found it strange that he didn't hate and begrudge their successes. As a matter of fact, he felt more like a big game hunter who respected the prey who was wily and cunning enough to escape him.
Nearly forty years of confidence games, banking schemes and swindling poor and rich alike made him an expert on just how far he could push people. As the Accountant, he played the contestants like an angler does a large mouth bass. Offer insulting deals and then when it really matters they're so used to saying no, they do so again falling into the Game's trap. Each change was cumulative altering how they saw the world and, of course, affecting their judgment.
His eyes fell on Dancer's photograph. Her real name had been and still was for that matter, legally Janice Boone. However, to him she would always be what he had intended, Dancer. She'd been a tall blonde who he thought of as more handsome than attractive with her bold Scandinavian features.
It'd greatly amused him to mold the hard nosed Bostonian lawyer into a lithe Arabian belly dancer. Sentenced due to contempt of court, the blonde learned the hard way that the law worked different here than in Massachusetts, although that had been the Inner Circle's plan from the very beginning.
She and her firm had been due a lesson because of how they'd interfered in far too many of the Circle's plans. Allowing Dancer to represent a 'client' here was just part of that prearranged object lesson.
It had all gone well in the beginning. Goading her to push harder had not been challenging and nor was the dangled prize of a 'plea' bargain to clear her client of their transgressions. It was once the music had cued up and the marquee lights shined that Dancer showed her true fire.
He'd known that like any lawyer she would do her research and have strategies and tactics prepared. The Accountant, however, held all the cards as well as having the House ratio in his favor. She had no idea of which changes he was going favor nor how that would shift the audience's votes.
The first seven Slave cases were always physical alternations. For most contestants they were the carrot to tempt them to play. The second round cases were the ones that really counted, the mental modifications. Those were the ones that sealed the deal leaving behind a willing slave for her masters.
On the look on that proud lawyer's face when her perfectly coif of blond hair turned into a dark water fall was one he'd reviewed so many times. Oh, but did he love the joys of recordings and close ups.
Almost as good was her cold blue eyes darkening into deep sensual brown orbs.
The Accountant sighed. However, there was a reason why she'd been so successful at being a thorn in the powerful's side. Towards the end of the first round she'd gathered four thousand game 'crowns' which was not enough to purchase her freedom. Still it was much better than most contestants had managed.
He had put up an offer he'd expected to be declined. Three 'slave' cases and he would double her crowns giving her enough to walk away. However, that would also put her well into the mental changes.
Dancer had stared up at his darkened silhouette in the Chamberlain's box, and taken his offer! Rather than try for one of the five grand crown cases hidden among the others, she chose to take whatever happened and end it there.
Again luck had been with her even if the last physical case completed the physical transformation for his Dancer. The clearly faked tits had been needed really to stand out on her trim athletic body. She'd mostly certainly had not agreed from those now dark flashing eyes.
Much to his dismay she'd escaped the worst of the round two modifications with compulsions to wear silks and damn the luck, flashy jewelry. The Dress style was something he had planned for her as well as the accessorizing the bling, but the Accountant wanted the career change and habits categories. Being the Dancer who was always swaying with the music would've worked right nicely and he did have a two in seven chance of it happening.
Still he smiled thinking of his Dancer. On his hard drive, he had footage of her dressed in silk suits accidentally flashing the jewel in her belly button. For all that she did still practice law, she would always be his Dancer.
Sighing, he put his cigar in the gilded ashtray.
This contestant promised to be difficult. The inner circle wanted a happy ending, but still desired punishment. That meant this show could not end with the House winning and the loser being lead away by a collar around her neck.
However, he mused that did not mean, he, the Accountant, had to lose. Win, win or at least it could seem that way if it was set up right. All the Round Once cases with perhaps with, like with Dancer, a case or two from the next round that might not seem too bad, but rubbed in the fact to the people who knew that it was in fact a punishment.
Slowly a smile grew on his face as he read the brief MC3 had put together of the soon to be 'once' Mr. Aldric.
A fantasy fan?
Now that gave him something to work with! Additionally, his 'friend' he'd escorted her shared the same interests?
He wrote out an outline. It would need to be run by MC3 to check if the psychological profiles agreed with his quick and dirty intuition. Still the Accountant had a good feeling about this and it shouldn't be too much of a problem to 'guide' the voting audience's voting in the way he wanted.
There was still many issues to be worked out, and the question of luck, but what was the purpose of playing if you couldn't lose? What would be the challenge of that?
He laughed remembering a line from an old movie. 'Do you want to play a game?'
Why, yes he did!
Chapter Four
Gathering the Host
Darlene Franklin
It'd taken her only a few minutes to start getting help. Emails to the various support groups she belonged to had began the rallying the troops. In this case they were all of those who had helped her organize her trip here as well as all the warnings of what to and what not to do.
Almost immediately, replies started coming in. They all stated that it was unlikely that Gene had been at fault. It seemed the Isle's case against him was posted online for all to see. It was Legal Eagle's position that it was clearly an entrapment to get him and most likely her too.
The poster pointed out how The Gaming Authority used people's desire to help others against them. She had been a victim of wanting to help her client and they had used that to get her to be a contestant.
Under no circumstances was Darlene to attempt to make a deal with the Accountant or the game's organizers. Legal Eagle had taken a huge risk and had escaped the worst consequences, but an enormous amount of good fortune had been involved.
Others 'gurls' like herself but who couldn't afford the high costs of the nanotechnology transformations, but had more or less gotten out without becoming a sex slave gave similar advice. Others spoke of promises such as medical aid to ill loved ones to entice them to risk more when it was already unbelievably chancy.
Some recounted how they could now only speak with ridiculous 'sexy' accents or wear certain types or styles of clothes. All agreed that changes like those were the least damaging of the mental compulsions. The career category was one of the worst since not only did it make you work in that new field, but it made you think you wanted and desired it.
Doctors, lawyers, scientists, and many others had all those years of learning ripped from them reducing them to waiting tables, working as a maid or other stereotypical woman's work. It was brainwashing at its very worst destroying the achievements that took years of hard dedicated work.
As for strategy on how to win. Most of the answers were the same. Be lucky, but if you were wise you had to play to the voting audience. The Accountant was a genius at manipulating them into selecting changes that fit into a chosen theme.
To survive with the core of yourself more or less intact, you absolutely had to charm the bastards watching and voting. If you didn't want breasts the size of beach balls and bleach blonde hair, you had better be damn good. Normally there would be less exaggerated choices available, but don't be surprised if it came down to the decision of least awful.
The bad part was you had to be quick witted. Once the choices were announced you had to decide fast which one you wanted as well as how to make that appealing to the viewers. Failure to do that always lead the voters to pick the most humiliating choices for the poor victim.
Darlene sighed. She had a lot of work to do. Gene could be charming, but he could be sarcastic too. That would not go over well.
Legal Eagle did have it right. She would've tried to make an arrangement to get her friend free. However she could see how it could be used against her. No doubt the deal would pull her into the whole mess while giving very little back.
Damn it, this was her fault dragging him here in the first place!
Closing her tablet, she was happy to see the Nurse enter. She had places to be and damn little time to make things right. Okay, maybe not right, but better. She had too!
Chapter Five
Jailhouse rock
Gene, oh I'm in so much trouble!
The moment the attractive brunette walked in, I knew I was doomed.
“Plato Barada Nicto.” Holding up my hands in surrender, I smiled.
“Gene you dummy!” The woman glared at me holding up her hand in the Vulcan Peace and Long Life greeting. “And it's properly Klaatu Barada Nikto.”
“And you left out the Gort.” I smiled relived despite knowing she was going to hurt me. “You turned out real good.”
“Thank you.” Darlene answered, “But you're still a dummy.”
“It's not my fault.” I kinda winced at that one. I honestly hadn't meant that to say that quote however much it fit. “The last thing I remember is ordering a sandwich and then waking here with one mother of a headache. It fits with being hit with a date rape drug.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, sitting down and putting her tablet on the table. “My research agrees with that. According to them this doesn't happen often, but often enough that there is a reason for all the papers we had to sign to get here.
“I'm sorry, Gene.” Her head was bowed. “You were right. It was too much of a risk.”
“Shit happens,” I took her hand. “You probably know better than I do at just how bad it is. I'm cut off here, but I'm told we have until tomorrow to take this gaming commission's deal or not. The attorney said I had the choice of refusing and going into their General Service Pool where they would likely try to break me so I would 'volunteer' for their game anyways, or I can just skip all that and just play their game.”
“It's called the Gaming Authority and that's what the forums, I've asked for help have said as well.” Her long feminine fingers flicked over her tablets touch screen. “
Shrugging, I glanced at the tablet screen that had the box cover to the old RPG game Paranoia. Message received loud and clear.
“I would be happier to avoid both routes, but at this time I don't know how having extra time is going to help me any.” Meeting her eyes I nodded. “Do any of your girls have any advice?”
“Loads,” She rolled her eyes. “How much of it is useful is another question.”
“That bad?” From years gaming with my friend, that really meant there wasn't much that could be done.
“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?” One of Darlene's newly feminine brows did the Vulcan thing.
“Let's do the Bad first.” I gave her a smile that probably looked really forced.
“You're going to end up at a minimum, looking very feminine.” My friend stated her lips tight with stress.
“Okay,” my stomach twisted into knots. “I know I'm going to have all kinds of trouble adapting to this. That's along with no doubt losing my job. There is no way I'll be trusted as a courier after having this done to me.
“Alrighty,” I tried to steel myself. “How bad can it get?”
“Everyone seemed to think the game they're trying to make you play is Royals and Serfs.”
“Crap!” My head fell back with my eyes closed in dismay. “Princess and Slaves?”
One eye peered at her shutting again after seeing her nod.
“I could end up a brain dead bimbo.” Okay this was very, really truly bad.
“The good is you'll remain human if perhaps with cute animal traits like cat ears or a puppy tail.” Darlene just kept giving the bad news. “However, since I'm listed as your emergency contact, I might be able to take custody of you instead of the Gaming Authority in a worst case scenario.”
“That's makes me feel so much better.” My sarcasm rose to he occasion.
Her hand struck like lightning.
“Ow!” I rubbed the back of my head. How had she reached that damn far?
“You make a remark like that to the host or the audience and you'll end up like that for damn certain.” Anger filled her voice. “I will not lose my friend because you're being stupid! I did get some good help and god help me you will learn. You got me Mister?”
“Yes, Ma'am.” This reminded me of cram session we used have back when we took classes together at the Army's service schools. High scores were important because they decided where you would be posted. My friend had it in mind we were going to stick together so I had sure as hell better do well... or else!
“Okay,” Darlene glared at me until she was sure I knew she meant business. “Here are some recordings of past shows my 'help' sent me. She even included subtitled notes to go along with them.”
“Let's do this.” I gathered what wits I had. This was not going to be fun.
The next day
Mr. Perez and Mr. Wong
The Gaming Authority Corporate headquarters
They gave each other a long look as they read their orders for the day. Most of the day had been spent brainstorming ways the General Service Pool system could be abused.
As long was the 'worker' was able to preform the duties contracted by the winner of the bidding, they could potentially be transformed into just about any form. Even the two of them agreed that a few of their ideas were positively evil particularly for a man.
Mr. Aldric had accepted the Authority's generous offer to resolve any and all punishments that he might face from legal issues on the Isle de Tempete.
Reluctantly they filed those suggestions away for perhaps another 'contestant.' They knew there would be a next time. There always was.
A few days later
Darlene
Au Cafe'
Sainte Trinite'
Isle de Tempete
Darlene closed her eyes for just a moment. She knew she was nervous, but had very good reason to be. This was more than a little like Mowgli meeting Shere Khan at the watering hole, but they dare not rock the boat.
Mr. Juan Perez was obviously not his real name, but the power he had as one of the show's 'Assistant Directors' was very real. Legal Eagle suspected that he might be the shadowy figure in the box, the Accountant. That made his invitation to meet for coffee was an offer one she simply couldn't refuse.
Sometimes, Legal Eagle scared the hell out of her. Once again she had hit the nail right on the head. Her advice had been to be extremely politely, but firmly refuse any and all offers for anything. That went from table condiments to the British Crown Jewels, do not use the word yes at all.
The man was a master manipulator who had arrest warrants for him in more countries in the world than ones that didn't. That was why he stayed in the one place on the planet that didn't have extradition treaties with anyone. He could talk a drowning man into buying water and gleefully would because he had no morals whatsoever. Legal Eagle flat out told her to check afterwards if she still had all of her belongings, and, yes, the man was just that dangerous.
Darlene considered herself a fairly worldly person, but given how almost frantic her online contact was acting, decided that an extra helping of paranoia was the order for the day. It didn't take an expert to see that this man had a run in with Legal Eagle, or that she had come out if not second best, hurt by the bastard.
She knew that her online adviser was sharp as hell. If he got one over on her, then Darlene was in a lot of trouble.
That made her snort. Nobody had to be a genius to figure that one out! There was no room for ego here. She had to try to keep Gene as much Gene as she could without damning herself or anyone else.
Darlene had to fight off the feeling of illness every single time she thought about him being the same way she'd been. Gender dysphoria might not be fatal in of itself, but it could and did make so very many lives so miserable that suicide looked like a viable alternative. When your body didn't seem to fit, it was a like clothes or shoes that were so uncomfortable that over time they just drove one crazy enough to attempt almost anything to make it stop.
Honestly, only Gene and his unbreakable loyalty had kept her alive long enough for her to admit to herself that she had to do what she could to be 'comfortable' in her own skin. That would not work for him. Once these bastards finish, there would be little medical science could do to reverse the changes.
Surgery could help to a degree, but even the remains of the extreme saturation from the nanites made any further use of nanotechnology lethal. That didn't include the compulsions from mental changes that often supported each other and the other modifications. Legal Eagle's example was one to force one to dress in a given style demanding they look a certain way while dressed. Breast reduction surgery might trim a cleavage enough so that a compulsion for a revealing style not being met could drive the poor soul to no end of anguish until they were back off to the surgeon to 'fix' the problem.
The same thing applied to even hair, nails, and makeup.
Ruefully, Darlene looked down at her own modest cleavage that she was very happy with. The nanotechs here did do good work. Anything that can be used for good, can be used for evil. She was sure someone had made a quote about that, but she couldn't think of it.
'Verily I go into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest bitch in the Valley.' Confidence, but caution girl. Darlene walked forward. She had a meeting to attend.
“Miss Franklin.” The too handsome vaguely Hispanic man rose to his feet.
“Mr. Perez.” She remembered, no yes's!
Taking a seat, she did her best to take in the surroundings without seeming to stare. Some things jumped out to her senses. The two swarthy guys behind 'Mr. Perez gave her the same edgy feelings as some of the Special Forces and Delta Team guys she'd met years ago in the Service.
Call it a kind of blankness in the back of their eyes. Assume they were death on two feet given how powerful Perez was and likely nanotechnology enhanced. The rest of the world may forbid such things, but this was the Isle.
“Are you ready to order?” His dark eyes gleamed.
“Please, go ahead.” Darlene made herself smile, no yes's! “I'm sure I'll find what I want soon.”
“As you wish.” The moment he raised his hand, a waitress hurried over.
She really wasn't aware of what he ordered, but was thankful he didn't order for her. Could she even trust what was bought out for her? Darlene remembered all too well what happened to Gene. Did guys like those two goons doing the mafia guard thing slip her friend a drug or did they just simply bribe the cook to put it in his food?
“I'll have a regular coffee, cream and two sugars, please.” Their waitress was wearing heels that no one working the service industry would even consider. Only in places that encouraged a certain clientele would do so and then they were well paid. Being on one's feet for hours wearing those things had to be torture!
“She's a part of the General Service Pool,” Mr. Perez answered her unasked question. “Businesses bid on their contracts and then they are transformed in order to serve their new profession more efficiently.
“As set by the GSP a percentage of what they earn is split between the contract holder and what is owed to the court for their transgressions.” He smoothly explained.
“And of course that transformation cost is added to the total they have to pay back.” Darlene added suspecting he was going to leave that part out. It was as bad as that old song her grandparents used to listen by Tennessee Ernie Ford, 'Sixteen Tons.'
Referring to how the old coal mining companies used to deliberately keep their employee's in endless debt, the line went, 'You owe your soul to the company store.' Once caught in the GSP, it was almost impossible to get out of it.
“Your friend, Aldric was wise to accept the Authority's generous offer to compete in our games.” He waved at the busy downtown area. “There are those that take advantage of men in the Pool and take particular pleasure at humiliating them.”
“I have heard of such unfortunate stories.” She would look at this city much differently now. A place of miracles for some like her perhaps, but does that make up for the evil that made it possible? “It's good that Gene will avoid that although I gather from online that the Gaming Authority can be rather unfriendly as well.
“Should I be concerned?” Darlene waited as their waitress delivered their beverages.
“We do have games of chance.” Perez replied slickly, “Harsh penalties make the sparkling treasures all that much more valuable and worthwhile.
“That relates to why I wanted to speak with you.” He took a sip of his brew. “It is genuinely a gift to have a true friend. Since I and the Authority are in the process of organizing our next set of games, we were curious if you would be interested in taking a greater part than just supporting him from the sidelines?”
“What did you have in mind?” She asked, just knowing 'here it comes!'
“Well, we are still in the planning stages.” His eyes revealed the lie. “Perhaps you having the option of taking his place for a penalty. It is still undecided you must understand.”
“Oh” Darlene hoped her light laugh didn't sound too force. “Gene would be so upset if I did that. After all I just spent years of savings to pay for your nanotechs to become, well, me! With the support he'd given me over the years, I think he feels that he's as invested in my current appearance as me. I just couldn't betray him like that.”
“I can see your point.” He gave nothing away. “However, it may be possible to, if the worst happens, for you to take up your friend's guardianship if for some reason he becomes incapacitated. The law here is very firm on the Authority taking up that responsibility when it becomes necessary.”
“I wasn't aware of that.” And there was the stick. “Please allow me the opportunity to discuss this with Gene. It does concern him and his future.”
“But of course.” His smile made her ill. “I suppose it is only fair you talk to him, although it is easier asking for forgiveness rather than for permission.”
“That I remember from my old Army days.” Darlene said mostly smiling. His temptation might've been more effective if Eagle hadn't foretold how this would go almost word for word. Well, she didn't specify the exact bait he would use, but the how he would use it was right on the money. “However, Gene and I have mutual trust and respect. To act without letting him know invites a 'Gift of the Magi' SNAFU.”
“Ah yes,” Perez nodded, “The Christmas story where a young couple each sacrifices their most prize belongings to buy gifts for each other that they no longer need.”
“She sold her hair, and he, his father's watch,” Darlene recounted, “But she brought him a watch chain and he got her hair clips. I don't want Gene and me to tried to act in each other's best interest, but only to trip each other up. This might be a nice place to visit, but there's no place like home.”
“Then please let me know what you and Mr. Aldric decides.” He bowed his head slightly. “I and the production staff will need to know soon so we can finish planning. Here is my card.”
“Thank you, Mr. Perez.” Darlene took the card as causally as she could using only her nails. Paranoid or not she wasn't going to take anything this man gave her lightly. “We will do that.”
She walked away resisting the instinct to run from what she was certain had been a deadly trap. Hopefully all she left behind was smudged lipstick on a coffee cup that she'd left untasted. A distance away Darlene cleaned away the rest of her lippy just in case something had been on the cup.
There was still time to visit her friend.
The Accountant
Au Cafe'
Leisurely he finished his beverage. This was going to be quite enjoyable! Oh it was certain the woman had been coached, but still by his standards she'd done tolerably well.
She hadn't agreed to anything or made any promises except to call with their decision.
That'd been a little disappointing because it would've done wonders for his show's ratings to have her step in save her 'friend' from a vile threat. That was still a possibility, but not a strong one. The danger would have to be real and that would potentially ruin the 'happy' the producers called for.
Still he had wonder at who was coaching her. It had to be someone who had been a past guest of the Gaming Authority and likely of Royal or Serf. They knew just how he liked to manage things and that implied first hand knowledge.
That was a small list, but as annoying as that was, it added a level of excitement. True challenges were rare these days.
Standing he, headed back to his office feeling full of energy. He had a game to plan.
Gene Aldric
Sainte Trinite' Detention Facility
“This isn't easy.” I ran my hand through my thinning hair. “Even just role-playing out the scenario is tripping me up. What the hell am I going to do when I start changing for real?”
“Maybe you need to think of it as like Cos-playing at a Con.” Darlene suggested. “We've both done that often enough.”
“But only once as a girl.” This detention cell was getting very old. On the other hand, my leaving it would mean my manhood would be in grave danger. That was not a pleasant thought.
“And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it!” She folded her arms. “Both of us were completely exhausted by the time it was over running with those flashy glow in the dark magic wands.”
“I can't even remember what magic girl I was supposed to have been,” I complained, but smiled anyways. “But that was only a dump truck load of makeup and a girdle that had to been made in the lowest level of hell!
“Besides,” I threw my hands up in the air. “With the way this Damon MC guy will snark and troll me, I'll say something stupid and then I'll really be in trouble.”
“Listen here Mister!” Darlene got in my face. “If we had the chance I would have you in full makeup and dressed up just for practice. I know you can do this. I've seen you in the zone while role-playing. If our hobby had awards you would get the Oscar!
“Yes,” Her face was red and her eyes shined with passion. “Your body will be changing during the game. Think of it like being caught by a high level demon lord and you're playing for your very soul.
“That actually works pretty well.” I observed. “The Accountant/Demon Lord hidden in shadows watching from his commanding throne as his lesser servants torture the hero with their foul polymorphic magics trying to get him to break.”
“Yes!” Darlene grabbed my shoulders. “That is the attitude and mind set you have to have! You've got to play as you've never played before. I want my friend, the Gamer, with me when I walk off the boat in Charleston and not some Bimbo who thinks gaming dice are fashion accessories.”
“Oh God, no!” I smiled at the horror. “If that happens shoot me and bury the dice with my character sheets in my coffin. You can have my gaming books.”
“And on that note,” she sighed, “We have something else to talk about and I can guarantee you're not going to like. But first some background.”
“Alright,” I gave her a pained expression. If she said I wasn't going to like it then it was pretty dang bad. “Hit me.”
“Okay,” Darlene breathed out. “Eagle has been a lot of help and has been following your case. While she's been on the money more often than not, she thinks there are a few things that out of the ordinary.
“One of those is the Authority hasn't been as hard nosed as they've been in the past.” She flipped to a page on her tablet. “In several regards they could've pushed the both of us harder to make unfavorable agreements.”
“Like that Perez guy you meet a few days ago.” Boy, didn't that have me worrying until I saw her in front of me safe and sound. “You told him we didn't think it was a good idea but thank you for the offer.”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him. “He could've made an offer I couldn't refuse, but instead simply accepted our answer.
“That 'really' worries her. 'Anytime they alter things it's never for the contestant's benefit.'” Darlene paused, “That's a direct quote by the way.”
“Princess and Slaves did have all that bad press last year.” Thinking about it, I tried to look at it logically from their viewpoint, even if I wasn't a misogynistic bastard with delusions of godhood. “Perhaps they're trying to put a better spin on things?”
“That's one of her guesses.” Darlene acknowledged. “Another is that you pissed off someone so badly they want to get you and snare me too.
“I might even be their target.” she admitted, looking guilty. “But I don't think that's very likely. They would've just arranged for the clinic's nanotechs to take a payoff, and you would've been told I had a bad reaction, so sorry.”
“Okay,” I spread my hands out. “What's the bottom line?”
“Eagle thinks we need a fallback plan, just in case it all goes south.” My friend closed her eyes as if she really didn't want to even consider it.
“Plan ain't go no plan.” I joked trying to cut the tension.
“She wants us to get married.” Her voice was a whisper.
It took me several seconds opening and closing my mouth to make a sound.
“What!” I choked out.
“She knows people with serious grudges against the Gaming Authority that's very willing to backdate and slip in the paperwork.” Darlene sounded like she was being strangled. “That includes a Judge that will certify everything.”
“Go on.” I croaked, my brains threatening to short out.
“That would make me your legal next of kin.” She wouldn't meet my eyes. “If the worst did happen I would be able to get custody and help you.”
“And if the worst doesn't happen?” I wanted to know. This was my friend, perhaps not my brother any more, call her my sister.
“Then we can get it annulled when we get back.” Darlene explained.
“Yes,” My voice was so soft I wasn't sure even I said it.
“What?” She was surprised.
“It protects you too.” I took a deep breath. “You're my friend, my sister of the heart. If they try something I want to be able to get you out as well. Like Eagle says they're not above using us against each other.”
Her eyes were tearing and I braced myself for the tackle and resulting hugs. I had no idea how, but we were going to get out of this mess …. somehow.
<><><>
MC3
One of its strengths was its ability to plan. MC3 had all the information and now had to analyze and simulate the possibilities. It was aware of the choices that were going to be offered to the participating voters. The meeting of the Masters and their intention of causing ties during the voting was another consideration it had to take into account.
A through examination of Gene Aldric right down to his DNA gave the beginnings of the nanotechnology programming needed for each transformation. With the priority given to this particular program and the available resources, MC3 began running algorithms design to simulate 'pleasing' or attractive models for each level of transformation.
Given the Accountant's notes, it further researched the fantasy genre looking for examples that fit its parameters. It after all had the entire internet for a resource. If certain low priority users observed a slow down in service, they were generally wise enough to simply work through the inconvenience. While it was true that the squeaky wheel got the oil, here it also got something else that was far less desirable, attention.
Being a faceless bee in the hive was relatively safe. Being noticed, having a recognizable name, now that was dangerous when one lacked any other characteristic that could provide security such as money, family or anything else of value.
No, here one simply made do or risked becoming a contestant as well. As anyone on this island knew, there were worst fates than death.
In the Future many things will be possible making the most wonderful of dreams come true. However, it should always be remembered that nightmares are also dreams.
Pesky Disclaimer that I almost forgot!
This is loosely based on an old TV Game show and other fiction based off of it. This is my interpretation. I'm not making a dime off of this because I don't own nothing!
Thanks as always goes the marvelous Cathy! Thanks Hon!
Part Two of Three
Chapter Five
Sainte Trinite'
Royals or Serf's Studios
Gene Aldric
I took deep slow breaths. Ever since I been moved from the detention center to here, I knew panic lurked within me. Handed off to the two Gaming Authority's representatives, read as goons, I had good reasons to be nervous.
The pair of metallic cuffs on my wrists didn't help at all. Fitted a few hours after I'd 'agreed' to be a contestant, they'd been pumping nano-machines into me like there was no tomorrow. Then my appetite had gone nuts as those sames machines began multiplying so fast they made rabbits jealous. None of which helped me sleep well knowing what those things were prepping me for.
The modern building had a cheery front with bright signs advertising all the TV and game show studios it hosted.
What it should have was a rusty, cast-iron arch warning all to 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here.' Dante' I think would've come up with something more depressing if he'd existed in this time to describe what went on inside this place.
I suppose not all the programs that were created here took advantage of people twisting them as badly as any pits fiend from hell. This place also produced all the local versions of the news, and entertainment such as soap operas and other programs including kid shows.
However, it also hosted pay-for-view and digital direct to video programs too that would've appealed to the depravity of even the most debauched Roman Emperors. Royal or Serf or its more popular nickname Princess or Slave was just one of the many that focused on everything from the Furry thing which dealt with people being turned into animals or animal like features to a Truth or Dare like program that exchanged features between two antagonists.
My mind could not grasp who would be flat out crazy enough to risk body and soul in these so-called games that catered to such perverse misogynistic assholes. I intellectually knew that for some it was their last hope. Along with warping bodies it also healed any number of normally hard to treat diseases. For others like Darlene it took a body that was a curse and remade it so it fit better if not perfectly right. Hell, a few even wanted the prize of being a princess, a royal with all the wealth and property the program advertised.
However, nobody had ever won that damn prize although a few had quit before ending up dysfunctional nymphomaniacs with very nice chunks of change. In these latter years a millionaire was only being very well off. The Kings of the wealthy world these days were the Billionaires or the very few and rare elite Trillionaires.
'Breathe in, breathe out.' I schooled myself forcing my panic away. Fear is the mind killer. Never count your money at the table, because every hand's a winner and every hand's a loser. There's time enough for counting when the dealing is done.'
Despite my mantras I stole from Frank Herbert's 'Dune,' and Kenny Rodger's 'Gambler,' there was still wisdom in all of them. Keep my wits or the Accountant and his evil MC Damon would damn me to hell. However, don't focus on what I lost or won, transformed into or bullets dodged, I was facing a powerful adversary. My focus had to be razor sharp on the real goal, ending this in my favor.
I was a Gamer by god and I had a game to play!
It was still disconcerting when I was stripped and dressed in that damn catsuit. It would stretch and even modify itself to fit whatever I changed into. The fact the attractive, but vacant eyed smiling girls in 'wardrobe' knew just how to manage getting it on over those 'slave' cuffs made their impersonal actions more disturbing.
The thing covered my feet like a pair of footie PJ's and sort of surprised me with giving me a little grip on the floor so despite how slick the rest was. I think the supervisor took special pleasure in showing me the mirror that left no doubts that while I was in very decent shape for my age, I was still an older guy with all that implied.
Unlike Spandex which tended to smooth out softer body contours, This stuff acted as if it had been painted on showing my slight paunch in all of its glory. The damn thing even revealed just how much of 'package' I toted, but as they say, I had a secret. Being of Scot heritage my 'equipment' tended to shrink a lot more under stress or cold. Think of it as a survival trait. You don't leave what you truly value out in the cold!
So yes I got some barracks ribbing until I let them see me in my 'glory.' Some of the other guys from racial types nearer the equator didn't 'shrink' at all or very little. What you saw was what you got sort of thing. I had no reason for jealousy and for a while had the nickname of Magician since they wondered just how I hid it all, now you see it, now you don't.
That was barrack's locker-room style humor for you.
As they lead me to the green or waiting room, the snickers and rude looks of the staff in the hallway wasn't nice or restrained whatsoever.
Where I stood, none of this was a joke or funny whatsoever. I did take the strength of happier times to push my fears a bit further away. Like the saying goes, 'Never let them see you sweat.'
It was about then that realized something that made me smile. All of this was just to upset me and break my concentration, like a bunch of infantile boys jeering while another tried to make a difficult shot on the basketball court.
Truthfully, that kinda pissed me off. It wasn't as if the bastards didn't have all the advantages and set me up for no reason at all. They really had to pull this kind of cheap-shot shit too?
The red light in the waiting room turned green.
My two minders 'guided' me to the stage entrance.
I had a Game to win.
Game on you Mutha's!
Royal or Serf Studio
The Accountant
Already in his booth, he checked the telemetry the nanties were relaying through to control cuffs. At first it wasn't too bad. Nothing more than a little nervous and apprehensive which was expect to grow into near panic and hysteria as the past contestants now working in wardrobe had finished with him.
Unfortunately that didn't happen. If anything Aldric became calmer and more focused.
Cheating and using the nanites to artificially enhance the man's anxiety wasn't on the board. They did run a more or less clean game. Additionally, the Accountant wanted to win by showing he was the better man something that Aldric would not be very soon.
However, this willpower could make this a very interesting contest! Just how much could Mr. Gene Aldric take before shattering?
He smiled in anticipation. The Accountant could barely wait for the answer!
Chapter Six
Royals or Serfs
Studio Audience
Darlene Franklin
Her heart was beating like a hammer in her chest as that jerk Damon came out to introduce the show. The music and lights didn't really make an impact on her consciousness.
All the research, play acting and outright praying were either going to make a difference or it wasn't.
“Tonight's contestant is a visitor to Sainte Trinite'.” Damon waved down the cheers of the crowd. “At Fifty-Two he's older than most of our previous contestants, but he's lived a full life. A veteran of the US Army, he's currently an armed courier.”
There were ohs and ahs over than, but she was sure that some or most of that had been 'canned' sound effects added by the director.
“A real man's man.” Damon's eyes twinkled teasing the humiliation to come. “He's also something of closet geek being a long time Science Fiction and Fantasy fan as well as being a regular comic book convention goer. He's here with his good friend Darlene who took advantage of our superlative medical professionals.
“But he got into a little trouble here in our island paradise.” The man did know how to work a crowd. “Will he earn his way to freedom becoming a Royal or will he fail and be a Slave!”
The crowd roared, making her want to cringe. It was as if she could feel their blood lust and carnal desires to tear a good man down.
Poor Gene came in dressed in the same leotard that all the contestants wore, that awful gleaming white thing that showed every flaw. As handsome as her friend was, he was also on the other side of fifty. Unless you were able to constantly fight against old man time having his way or these days have a butt load of money you were going to show your age.
Honestly she thought he could pass for forty something, but he did stay active despite the stereotypes of their role playing gaming hobby.
“Welcome to Royal or Serf!” Damon put his arm around Gene's shoulder.
“I wish I could say I was happy to be here, but thank you anyways.” Her best friend gave a wry smile.
They had known this was coming and had worked on how the asshole invaded one's private space in order to get a rise out of his victims. She was happy that it had worked.
“Oh that's right.” The Master of Ceremonies acted as if surprised and he hadn't already announced it to the audience. “You're here because you got into some trouble.”
“Yes, I did, Damon.” Gene nodded sadly. “I can say wholeheartedly that I wish it hadn't happened, but it did. I do hope that anyone that got dragged into it are well and haven't had too much in the way of problems.”
“That's mighty big of you.” The Ass patronized looking at her friend's crotch and smirking.”
“I've often found that being straight forward pays off in the long run.” Her friend kept his smile. “Saves borrowing trouble most times.”
“And when it doesn't?” Damon sneered, implying he was much smarter than Gene.
“Well, there's always someone who just doesn't get it.” Gene spread his hands displaying openness. “Those are the kinds of people that ends up all alone crying out 'Rosebud' in the middle of the night.' Regrets can be a terrible thing.”
Darlene kept her giggle to herself, wondering how many people's head her friend's comment had gone over. She reckoned that they got the regret and all alone thing even if they missed the Citizen Kane reference.
Still, she silently urge him not to go overboard with the film quotes. People didn't like to seem dumb when they didn't get it.
“Just a little wisdom,” Gene gave a disarming grin, “That I've learned sometimes too late to help me, but some lessons you don't forget.”
“Well, Gene,” Damon showed a plastic smile. “We'll see if the lessons you learned will help you become Royalty!
The crowd roared their approval.
“We have twenty-eight cases on the stage before you.” The MC explained. “Half has various amounts of Gold Crowns while the others have links in a chain that will cause different changes to you. If you reach 10, 000 Crowns which is enough to by a 'title' you'll go free your obligations to our fair Isle paid in full. However, if you collect 14 links which is enough to chain together your cuffs, you'll be a serf and will labor for your masters to pay that debt.”
“I understand, Damon.” Gene nodded. “Crowns are good, and links in the chain are bad.”
“I couldn't say it better myself,” Damon laughed and the audience joined him.
Gene just kept smiling, even if she who knew him could see it wasn't easy.
“Here's Lana, my lovely assistant who will open the cases you chose.” Damon gestured at the scantily clad blonde who had more dangerous curves than nature had ever designed. The rather vacant eyes told the story that this girl was likely a former contestant that had been broken by the Accountant and his henchman. “Wave and say hi, Lana!”
“Hi Lana!” Obediently the woman waved, as the crowd cruelly laughed.
Darlene held her breath. This was just the kind of thing that would set off her friend. However, somehow he didn't lose it.
“Hi Lana,” He waved back, making the audience laugh again. Only the tightness around his eyes told of how pissed off he was.
'Please hold it together,' Darlene prayed with her fingers crossed. She'd never been very religious, but given how desperate this was, she was willing to try anything.
“Let's play!” Damon raised his arms to cheers. “What's your first case Gene?”
The Inner Circle
“He's showing more backbone than I expected,” Delta remarked. “This might be more enjoyable and better for the ratings than I first thought. However, it all depends on how well the Accountant manages the 'Happy Ending' we advised.”
A snort came from one of the other Masters. A 'suggestion' from one of them was a do-or-fall-on-your-sword command.
“The pride go before the fall.” Alpha huffed. “He talks well, but let's see 'him' keep that up with cock-sucking lips and tits so big he can't see his feet. I want him to 'hurt!'
“That the thing about pride isn't.” Beta was obviously amused and not talking about the Contestant.
“Indeed it is,” Gamma who had remained silent, spoke up. “This has the potential to be quite the show. Shall we cease our bickering and watch?”
The following silence indicated they agreed with him.
Chapter Seven
Royal or Serf
Gene Aldric
I made a display of studying the 28 cases in front of me. Lana was posing provocatively. She was an example of what morally bankrupt men like Damon beside me, and the Accountant up there hidden in his booth saw the fairer sex, as things.
My Daddy and Mama would have tanned my hide something fierce if I'd even had a barest thought of such. As a man I knew I was different from women in more than, as Darlene says, having an 'outie' instead an 'innie.'
They bought to the table another point of view that in my mind balanced out things between the two sexes, male and female, man and woman. Maybe that was why I was accepting of my friend. Despite being an 'outie' at the time, Darlene had always clearly been, if not female, a woman.
She bought balance to me and my life. No, I wasn't romantically attracted to her, if because of no other reason, I knew that at least until recently she was still an 'outie.' I just wasn't that way, but I had no problem seeing her as a sister. For both us and our friendship that worked for us just fine.
Okay, deep thoughts aside, what box?
“Let's try number 23, Damon.” I made a point of using his name. I'd read and been coached that using a person's name usually got a better and more positive response. The Good Lord knows I do with some of that right now.
“You heard the man Lana,” Damon made a production out of it all. “Open the man's case.”
Strutting over in her towering heels to the case she bent over showing her wonderfully rounded tush.
“Okay Gene,” Damon had his damn arm back round my shoulders. “The first case is always about being a Prince or Princess?”
The first case really didn't matter too much, but I still groaned when the opened case's screen revealed the Venus symbol of a circle with a double crossed line coming from the bottom.
Jeers and laughs came at my mournful expression, but I'd been expecting it. Never in the three years this abortion of show had been running had the male sign ever appeared.
“Oh, bad luck right off the bat.” Damon did not sound one bit sincere.
“Hoped for better.” I shrugged, giving an unhappy smile. “But that's the way life goes sometimes. You've got to roll with the punches.”
“More wisdom?” Damon, sneered.
“Nope,” I grinned, surprising him. “Experience. Let's try case 13 next.”
“Lana,” the MC made a why-not face. “Open number 13”
A trumpet sounded as the case revealed 300 Crowns.
“Congratulations!” Damon clapped me on the back. “You're on the board.”
“Could be better,” My face was beginning to hurt from all the smiling I forcing upon myself. “But I had to start somewhere.”
“That you do.” He agreed insincerely. “Before you choose your next case we're going to pause for a commercial break.”
Without a word, he walked off stage, but I was relived when an assistant bought me a water. I wasn't sweating like a pig under all the lights, but this sure as hell redefined stress.
Everyone else in the stage crew took the opportunity to straighten things up or move them around, while I saw hawkers in the audience selling drinks and snacks.
Picking out Darlene sitting in the front roll, I only gave her a slight nod not wanting to call attention to her. The odds were Damon would do that later on anyways, but there was no reason to make it easy for him.
A few minutes passed and he came back out as the crew hurried to their positions. That assistant came by to take my empty water bottle, but Damon smelled as if he had something stronger and no doubt expensive.
“Gene,” he popped in a breath mint. “When we go back on the air, I'm going to ask you about your hobbies and plans for the future.”
“Okay,” I nodded keeping my smile for latter. We knew this had been coming too. Just what direction it would take was anyone's guess.
“Welcome back to Royal or Serf.” Damon announce to fanfare as the lights came back up.
“But before we get back to our game, let's find out a little more about our latest contestant.
“Gene,” He put his arm back around my shoulders. “From your bio, we've learned you're a big Science Fiction and Fantasy fan.”
“Yes, I am.” A bit of Captain Jack's character goes a long ways, but it did get some laughs from those who got the joke. “John Barrowman is a fan favorite from several shows. He's is a great character actor.”
“Why, yes he is.” Damon agreed. “Do you have any other old favorites such as Seven of Nine from Voyager, Rommie from Andromeda or maybe Tauriel from the Hobbit films?”
“I rather like Viconia DeVir who is a character in Baldur's Gate.” I smiled. If they were going to change me into a girl, I sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy on them! “It's another old but still popular fantasy game that has been in film development hell for ages. Rumor is it's finally moving forward.”
“She's an elf, right?” Damon hid it well, but the slight incline of head showed he was getting fed information from his ear buds.
“Yes, she is.” I didn't have to fake my enthusiasm when taking about my hobby. “The computer game uses the Dungeons and Dragons RPG game and rules. She's a Drow elf who are dark skinned and live underground, but are mostly evil. Virconia is an extraordinary character who strikes out making her own life, her way.
“I'm also rather fond of Wonder Woman.” There, another strong character, for you misogynistic bastards! “Gail Godot's portrayal is still my favorite although Linda Carter's bring back a lot childhood memories watching reruns.”
“Thank you, Gene.” He ended that line of conversation. “Are you ready for your next pick”
“Twenty-seven,” I called out. Honestly, this was all random anyways with the cases being merely disguised video screens. If anything trying a pattern could work against me. Eagle's coaching had been not to concentrate on picking winning cases, but how to survive the transforming Slave cases and the changes the audience's picked.
I groaned as the ringing effects of clanking metal sounded as the chain link inside the case was uncovered. Now it was going to get serious.
The first case and the initial princess 'chain' case were always place holders. One that I'd already gotten making me into a 'Princess' and the other which I just got which would be body type. That first case's transformation was always held back until after the second pick. After with the type of audience this show catered to applying feminine features to my male body would not gather many viewers.
“Oh no, Gene.” Damon did not sound sad to me. “It's your first Serf case.
“The choices are:”
The big holo tank above us scrolled down the choices as he read them off.
Body Type:
1) Svelte delights
2) Delightfully Full
3) Amazonian fruits
4) Willows shade
As he did so the tank showed how I would look in each form.
Number One was a slim, but not petite girl, a gymnast or dancer, that had a softer version of my face.
Number Two was a full figured voluptuous me. I've got nothing against Rubenesque women. I rather find them attractive, but I don't think I wanted to be one.
Number three was a tall body builder feminine me that lived up to the name Amazon.
Number Four, the last was a tall slim super model woman which looked strange with my face feminized or not.
“Place your votes now.” He directed, as he turned back to me.
“Do you have a preference, Gene?” Damon asked, with a sneer knowing this choice would change me and my life.
“If I had my way there would be another category none of the above.” I laughed attempting not to go into hysterics. “Based on that I do like a certain Amazonian warrior, I'm going to have to go with number three. It will make my next convention very interesting.”
A ringing chime sound signaling the voting was over.
“Show us the results please.” Damon looked up at the holo's.
Only two went out leaving the Dancer and the Amazon. I felt faint, but, hey, I'd real good reason!
“And we have our first tie!” The MC for the first time to day sounded surprise. “Svelte delights and Amazonian Fruits are tied. This should be interesting. Ladies and Gentlemen I give you the Svelte Amazon!”
The two holo's merged together and I felt myself grow numb all over starting with where those damn wrist bands were.
'Shit,' I knew I'd been nerve blocked so I didn't end up on the floor screaming as the damn mini-machines tore me apart and put me back together again, but not as I wanted or desired.
I saw the rest of the world growing larger. It was me who was really getting smaller. Muscles and mass that I'd spent years growing and developing melted away as the nanites devoured them converting it into fuel not only for this transformation, but for those to come. After this was over, I was going to have damn little mass to spare for anything.
A tingling let me know it was over, but damn if I didn't lose five or six inches of height. Since I was a bit under tall for a guy at five-ten, I had to be around five-five or four.
Fighting for calm I looked up at the holo that was now a real time display of me now. That white catsuit showed the Dancer, but one looked as if she did some moderate to serious body building too. Hell, she even had a nicely defined six pack.
I couldn't help but touch my taut stomach to see if it was real.
“Well, that's one way to get into shape.” It almost hurt making myself smile. Playing to the audience was my only chance to come out of this with even a part of my inner self intact. “I don't think I'll recommend it to the guys at the gym though.”
Now that got a huge laugh out of everyone!
Calm, I breathed in, I breathed out. My body wasn't really female yet, it was more like a doll's at this point primed for more changes to come than being pre-puberty as in nature.
However, there was still the disturbing feeling that I was no longer me.
Calm, breathe in, breathe out, Fear is the mind-killer.
I would do this! No Demon Lord and his Pit Fiend was going to get the best of me.
Royals and Serfs
The Accountant
That tie had been unexpected.
However, his planned end 'product' was still on track which was all that counted in the end. Checking the telemetry again, even with the first change which was a pretty major one, Aldric was still staying fairly calm.
On the other hand, for an older man who did indulge in the martial arts if only lightly, it shouldn't be too surprising. This Contestant knew how to meditate and concentrate on the task at hand. Perhaps the Tai-chi and Yoga the man practiced weren't combat oriented, but they did contribute to a person who kept calm during a crisis and was very reliable.
It was no wonder Aldric was regarded as a valued employee by his courier company.
The Accountant had to laugh at the thought, but the man had depths.
Let's see just how upset he could make those 'still waters.'
Chapter Eight
Royals and Serfs
Gene Aldric
“Besides those abs,” Damon put that damn arm back. “How do you feel Gene?”
“Grateful, this suit is so stretchy or I'll be trying to hold it up.” I tried to make light of this and think outside of the box. Short jokes would make people think about putting me in heels or something. Better to address it sideways.
“Oh we are too.” The MC leered at me getting a laugh from the studio audience. “Are you ready for your next case?”
“Sure,” I forced that smile again as I lied my ass off. Hell no, I wasn't ready! “Case number 14, Damon.”
“Case 14, Lana!” He yelled out.
A Trumpet proclaimed, I'd found some more Crowns! Yay, me!
“You now have 700 crowns on the board.” Damon gave me the total. “Only 9,300 to go to win!”
I kept my mouth shut that I really only needed 4.300 to go free. Let's not upset the dealer or Demon Lord.
“Next case please, Gene.” He said, turning to watch the stage.
“Case number five.” I picked, knowing things were really heating up.
Clanking chains were not what I wanted to hear.
“Another link in the chain!” Damon shouted out making me want to stop up my ear.
“And the category is Faces,” The MC listed choices as the holo lit up again.
1) Irish eyes are smiling
2) Pink is my favorite color
3) Elves aren't just for Christmas
4) The Hearts have it!
Looking up at the Holo, Number One had me pretty much as I was, red headed even if my hair was more iron colored than red because of my age. The freckles where more like designed beauty marks than random, and this me had very green eyes instead of my hazels.
The next had the Barbie me. I mean, seriously just no! My same face, but with way too pink puffy lips, pink eye shadow, and blush.
The third was the one I'm thinking they were trying to implement. The diamond shaped face with the tilted eyes and elegantly pointed ears said it all. How they put those features together so they looked classy and pixie cute I have no idea.
The last one answered the third's question. The heart shaped face was just so damn cute I felt like I was having an allergic reaction to the sweetness.
“Seeing anything you like?” Damon leered again.
Did he have any other facial expressions? Leer and smirks just doesn't do it!
“Two and four don't do anything for me, and I like number three, but not on me.” I tried some reverse psychology. Dismissing those two out of hand like they don't matter might protect me while they might not buy I want to be not human. “Number one, I think. It's not too unlike me now and at least I'll recognize myself in the mirror.”
“Interesting choice.” He nodded. “But three would make going to those cons you like a lot of fun.”
The bells sounded ending the voting.
“And the winner is...” We all looked up.
I wanted to so badly to close my eyes, but I dare not alienate or worse 'inspire' the voters.
Two and four disappeared. Don't freak out, don't freak out, I struggled with my feelings.
“We have another tie!” He was amazed this time and I think the crowd went wild.
Me, I just tried not to pass out!
“The winner is Irish Elves Are Smiling!” He ran the two categories together.
My face went numb. Well at least that will help all the pains from my strained smiles.
Staring at the holo's everything went blurry as my eyes changed, then leaped into focus my vision sharper than ever before. Somewhat the same way, the noise faded to almost nothing and then it got loud, really loud.
“Ouch!” I winced putting my hands over my ears and found more ear there than normal. “Well, I guess I can put my Vulcan Ears up for sale.”
That got another laugh from everyone, even if it was making my new ears ring. It was about then I notice my nose had gotten a bit more sensitive as well. Thankfully it wasn't hurting like my poor eardrums.
Seeing the girl with her hands over her ears, I had some trouble seeing her as me.
'Time enough for counting when the dealings done,' I reminded myself. There was a game to play.
Calming a bit, 'my' hair was as red as when I was young if rather sparse since I hadn't gotten to the hair category yet. The tilted eyes weren't exactly cat or Asian eyes, but were similar and were exotic. Of course 'she' had perfect skin which was very unlike my old acne pock marked face from my teenage years.
That bought up that while Darlene looked like she was in her late twenties, I, my, face anyways looked as if I was barely out of my teens, 20 maybe.
“Damon,” My voice was low so I actually had to get closer to the Pit Fiend. “These are very sensitive. Could I please have some kind of hearing suppression, plugs maybe?”
He merely nodded at someone back stage who quickly returned with a pair of plugs. I nodded and gave an actual smile as I took them. That made me aware of how sensitive to even touch my new ears were. It figured they would be erogenous zones, argh!
As the overwhelming sound dampened I felt like sighing in relief. Well, at least they weren't Warcraft Elf ears that were as long as a donkeys'! Oh, and don't say that to a player of one of those. They do get offended.
“Is that better, Gene.” Damon hammed it up again. “You certainly won't need hearing aids.”
“As a matter of fact,” I replied, repressing the wince as my traitorous ears actually swiveled towards him. “I was heading that way, but as you say not now. So another case? Give me a low number, Three.”
Royal or Serf
Darlene Franklin
She had to sit on her hand to keep from nervously gnawing on her nails or a curl of hair. If she was a smoker, she would've finished a pack, no a carton by now. Her Gene shaped friend was now more like-Tauriel shaped.
She even had the red hair, damn it! Okay, it was in the close cropped haircut like from their Army days, but it was all red with no gray or that faded iron color. All in all Gene was a dish.
That Ass of an MC did have it right. The con goers would love her, ears and all.
However what worried her were these damn ties! The picks so far had worked out all right for the most part. Going out in public with those ears might be a problem so Gene had better get used to hats, but in some of the categories to come, ties would be a very bad thing.
“Hang in there Gene!” Darlene prayed.
Chapter Nine
Royal or Serf
Gene Aldric
“You heard, Gene!” Damon directed. “Show us case number Three, Lana!”
Trumpets sang out, as the case had 700 crowns inside.
“Congratulations, Gene!” Damon put that damn arm back making me all too aware I was shorter now. “You're at 1400 Crowns and at half way through the first round. That's not bad at all, right on the average.”
“That's good.” I pushed out a smile again. What he was not saying was that there was really only 12 crown cases and 16 chains because of the two 'freebies.' Of course they shifted the odds in favor of the House as any gambler worth his salt would tell you.
“Your next case.” Damon urged me.
“Case 6.” I answered.
“Lana, number 6.” Damon called out.
Trumpets pealed, but I sighed seeing the one single crown symbol. Well, at least it wasn't another of those damn links!
“It is one less crown you need to win.” That arm was around me again!
“Yes, it is.” I nodded. “Let's move on to case 19.”
I watched the leggy blonde move to the case, breathing easier as trumpets sounded, but disappointed all at once.
“One hundred crowns,” He pretended to share my sorrow. “It's more than the last one.”
“Each one is one more closer to winning.” I noticed I was talking softer because of my ears. “Case 16, please.”
“Number 16, Lana. “ Damon was watching me.
We both knew another of those damn chain cases was due. I hated when I was right!
“It's you third link case, Gene.” Damon announced. “The category is lips!”
Awe crap! That's not good. Please Lady Luck, no more ties!
“The Choices are:
1) Luscious Kissers
2) Come Hither Pout
3) Cupid Bows
4) Bee Stung Wonders
“Please cast your votes now.” Damon stepped beside me as I stared at the holos.
The first one had me with very full, but just short of Angelia lips. I might be able to live with those even if I thought they weren't right for that face.
The second were the perhaps even fuller than that actress renown for her full lips. Definitely too big for 'that' face.
The Cupid Bows didn't make them look bigger but they sure changed the shape with very well defined, well, bows. I could deal with those, I think.
The last spoke for themselves. They were collagen inflated pillows that made me wonder if the poor girl with those could still talk. Just no, no, no!
“So what do you think, Gene?” Damon asked as the audience voted.
“Seriously I think the audience are geniuses. I had my doubt at this elf thing, but the Irish and it mixed together really well. I'm not too sure if any of those would work with it. Number Three with the bows, I think. Perhaps Number One, but those might be too full.”
“Nice analysis.” He nodded sagely as the voting ended with the chimes. “What does our audience think?”
It took more willpower than I'd ever used before not to just resist closing my eyes, but covering them completely.
Once again two holo's vanished leaving two behind.
“We have yet another tie!” His eyes were wide and even with the ear plugs I had to cover my ears when everyone went nuts! “Luscious Bows!”
The two holo's merged like a morph of days gone by. My lips went numb, but I could feel the skin of my face being pulled and reshaped as my lips changed.
They were kinda like Taylor Swift or Jessica Biel's when they'd been in their prime. The darn things were also damn soft because that much was obvious just from pressing them together. Add in the tingle from just doing that and I had the feeling that Luscious Kissers didn't just mean full lips.
The overall look wasn't the blonde bomb bimbo of poor Lana, but I looked exotic as all get out with my green slanted eyes and those lips in spite of my short hair. At least the bows didn't make them look too out-sized for me, but I think that could be debatable.
Forcing my eyes away, I focused on the important thing here staying me. What I looked like meant nothing. I'd learned that from Darlene. Appearance can be dealt with, but if they start messing with the gray matter it was a whole other ballgame.
“You look a little stunned.” Damon must smell blood in the water.
“I rather think astonished is more like it.” Stay outside the box, and stay calm, I schooled myself. I could've very well had gotten the other two choices which wouldn't had been good at all. “The people here amaze me. I mean I didn't desire any of this, but look at me! This is has got to be making fantasy artists all over the world jealous and it's the people out there as well as the nanotechs who did it. I mean wow!”
That worked as long as I looked at this woman from an artistic view point. At least this way I could attempt and be genuine in my praise.
Damon looked surprised again, but when he began clapping the whole place joined him. This time I smiled and just took the pain of the noise through the plugs.
“You're one in a thousand contestant.” This time he hugged my shoulders. “But we must be moving on. Your next case?
I nodded looking at the stage.
The Masters' Chambers
The Inner Circle
“What is this?” Alpha was spitting mad. “The Bitch looks more like an actress than being punished!”
“It's still early in the game.” Beta took a sip on his wine. “Believe me things will change.”
“The way she's charming the sheeple?” Alpha scoffed. “She'll end up winning the damn game!”
“You're upset you're not seeing immediate results.” Delta tried to smooth the tempers. “As Beta said, the more interesting changes are yet to come. However, I do admit I wouldn't mind seeing a template made of the transformations we've already seen. As she said, they are quite attractive.”
Alpha sputtered unable to speak.
“It's called disassociation.” Epsilon finally spoke. “Even you should be able to tell by the telemetry that looking so differently is having an effect. For men whose identity is based on their appearance this can have a profound effect.
“I judge if she makes it to the second round, she will need to be sedated as allowed by the game's rules.” The only woman in the Inner Circle explained. “Then she can be led to wherever we want.”
“She's picking her next case.” Beta glared at them all. He wanted to see this!
Chapter Ten
Royals or Serfs
Gene Aldric
“Number 18.” I noticed even my forced smiles felt kinda pleasant with that damn tingling!
“Lana, if you please.” Damon still didn't let go of me.
Clinking metal turned that smile into a frown.
“Oh no.” He gave me a squeeze. “Your first link case back to back.”
The holo's appeared overhead.
“The category is hair and the choices are:
1) Golden Mane
2) Calling all Pages
3) Back in Black
4) Spiked Pixie Attitude.
“Please cast your votes now.” Damon instructed.
Me, I was watching hair, a lot of hair.
One had me with this huge blonde mass of hair that calling it 'big' hair like from the '80's and 90's just didn't do it justice. It was just too, well, too.
Next was the pageboy thing. To me it looked cute, but I can honestly say I know squat about women's hair styles except what I soaked up from being near Darlene and the really popular cultural thing in passing.
The Back in Black was almost as thick as that Blonde Lion's Mane thing, but more of flowing waves that reached all the way down the holo's back. It looked kinda sexy, but that much hair had to weigh a ton and be a pain to deal with, so no.
The last one struck me as being punkish with the hair cut very short on the sides that I guess was a pixie cut, but teased into metallic silver spikes on top. It was interesting looking, but again I thought it didn't really fit me or that face. That's not even saying how much such a cut made my new ears very visible which was probably the point.
“So Gene,” The MC asked, miracles of miracles and not with a sneer. “What do you think?”
“Well, Number One is just too much and wouldn't go well with these.” I pointed to my freckles. “Number Three reminds of some of the really sexy actresses back when I was a kid, but that black I'm afraid is just too much despite there being such a thing as Black Irish.
“The spikes certain is edgy, but again I don't think matches up with everything else.” I was not going to mention the ears sticking out because that would be just daring them to pick that! “That leaves the pageboy thing which I think is the best pick of these. It seems to frame my face well and since it's the same color as my current hair, it works pretty well.”
He put on a considering face obviously buying time till the voting over bell rang which it did right on cue.
“Let's see if our audience agrees.” Damon waved up at the holo's.
Once again two of the holo's winked out, leaving the pageboy and the back to black.
“We have another tie!” Damon looked as if he was totally shocked. “Calling Back in Black Pages!”
“How is that going to work?” I felt like hiding, but it was far too late for that. Those were contradictory choices, right?
My scalp kinda not exactly itched, but maybe a frisson, like a electricity like feeling running all over my head.
The two holo's integrated together. The long flowing black locks shortened while the red page cut grew longer. They sorta interweaved together, being mostly red, but I had black stripes now. Two long dark curls framed my face while a few other of the black curled and spiraled about my red waves.
It all ended up bouncing on my shoulders going maybe just a bit further down my back.
I found myself lifting one of the pair of straight silky black strips that framed my face. So this is what shock feels like, as I pull gently on it to see if it was really attached. Did they somehow sneak in Olivia or one of the other famous fantasy artists in here?
I have to say something. They had to have positive reinforcement for me not ending up with that blonde nightmare of big hair or silver spikes. It might had been a favorite of rockers, but it'd never really been mine.
Hey, rock and roll?
“You people so rock!” I dropped the black lock watching in the holo as it fell perfectly back into place. “I'm almost afraid what you'll come up with next, but whatever it is I think it'll be beyond what my generation used to call 'so cool!'”
Damon started clapping again until the place rang with noise. Play the game, Gene, play for your life.
Royals or Serfs
The Accountant
At one point he was on the very edge of calling the Inner Circle and 'requesting' they stop this damn tie thing they had to be responsible for causing. Two were one thing, but three?
However, the pageboy red and black changed his mind. For one thing, his plans were preceding more or less in the direction he wanted. He wanted an Elf, well she was cooking along just fine.
Another was he recognized art when he saw it. MC3 must be contributing a considerable amount of its processing power to make these ties turn out so successfully. Perhaps it was just the choices or some synergy that was working together just right, but his Elf was turning into a very exotic creation.
Yet more reasons were just how Gene Aldric had kept himself from melting down and had charmed the audience. Instead of the usual misogynistic bunch intent on humiliating and destroying their victim for once they were caught up as much as he was in just what their votes were creating.
Any gambler knew that when you were riding the luck, you did not get off till it was over unless you were a complete and utter fool. The Accountant most certainly was not.
Chapter Eleven
Royals and Serfs
Gene aldric
“A case please.” Damon got the showing rolling again.
“Twenty-six,” I scanned the remaining boxes. Stay calm, breathe in, breathe out.
Lana posed as she opened the lid to trumpet thankful announcing 800 crowns.
“It's a Crown case!” The MC took me by the shoulders again. “Your total on the board is now 2301!”
“Okay, let's try case 28.” I ignored my weariness dipping into whatever reserves I had. The stress and excitement were taking their toll.
The smiling blonde however, seemed to have energy to spare as she went to open my selected case.
Trumpets rang out again, but only 200 crowns.
“You're at 2501, Gene.” Damon hugged my shoulders. “And that's the end of Round One! You're a quarter of the way!”
“We're taking a commercial break and will be back with The Accountant's first offer!” The MC declared. “Stay tuned.”
“Don't fall apart.” Damon whispered into my ear after we were off the air. “This episode is going to be golden.”
“Never say die.” I whispered back.
“That's my girl.” And he walked off backstage with me still wanting to kick him between the goal posts so very badly.
I guess I must've been doing something right when that same assistant lead me to a chair and another bottle of water. Wanting to gulp it down, I took small sips washing it around in my mouth until it was clear.
I managed to give Darlene another reassuring nod, but this time there was enough other people in the audience trying to get my attention, I felt it was safe enough to risk giving her a smile. Damn, but it was going to take time getting used to those darn lips of mine when that smile really felt good.
Looking up at the that darkened booth I had the feeling he was watching me. The odds were his coming offer wasn't going to be worth taking. On the other hand, I had done very well even if I had missed the high value crown cases. I'd gotten just over half of them leaving six. However, the 10 Slave cases were the very ones I did not want under any circumstances. That meant almost two bad picks to every one that might be enough to free me.
The way the odds were treating me tonight I was looking at four to six more changes putting me well into the territory where they would begin messing with my gray matter.
A wave at the stands showed the concession folks were doing hot business. Happy, excited people bought more stuff. There was a decent chance I could survive this and still be more or less me.
“Bathroom break.” The assistant got my attention. “You may not feel it, but you should go. This way please.”
Nodding, I wondered if this was some kind of trap, but really why bother. They had me just where they wanted me. Besides with the way, my poor body had been torn apart and remodeled it was likely that I wasn't used to all the signals yet.
“You're Rose?” I saw the name tag on her blouse. “Thank you for your help.”
“You're welcome.” She had the same sculptured beauty that most of the other women I'd seen here, but she had much more awareness in her eyes. “The nano-machines are mostly taking care of all of your waste products, but there are still some residue from the transformations that even they can't process.”
She opened the door to the private restroom.
“This will open up access so you can pee.” Holding up a pen-like instrument, Rose apologized, “Sorry, but this is best done by someone else.”
“No problem,” I nodded, looking straight ahead. “Do what you need to do.”
There was a bit of pressure as she ran the thing like zipper down the area normally covered by my boxers. Rose gave a embarrassment saving nod that she was finished.
“Thanks,” I backed into the stall, not sure what to expect. For one I was still male, kinda. My once proud manhood had regressed back to how it was during my childhood and my accompanying testes were missing in action.
I half expected my discharge to burn, but while that near bright orange color was not normal, it did not hurt. Strangely it wasn't overly sensitive like my 'kissing' lips either. That part down there was just really soft and smooth, but not sexual in any way.
Breathe in, breathe out, calm, I took the first moments of privacy I'd enjoyed since this ordeal had begun to center myself again. Never lose focus, eyes on the ball. A little voice looked down at that slit in that white catsuit, snarking, I wish.
Okay back to reality. I had a game to play and finish.
Princess or Serf
Darlene Franklin
She was well aware of her preference of sexual partners. Feminine beauty attracted her, but what the Japanese called Bishouenen was nice too. Translated Beautiful Youthful boy, to her it meant a male who had a feminine appearance.
Frankly, her own sexual experience had been limited to failed hetero relationships as she tried to come to grips with the fact that no matter how male she might be she was a she where it really mattered, in her heart and soul.
Since then, her sex life had been limited to fantasies and an ever growing library of romance books. Ruefully, she acknowledged she'd lived up to that stereotypical audience even if she really wasn't a housewife.
Resolutely she'd decided she was going to save any experimentation until after her nano-transformation. Then that damn them to hell, Gaming Authority had set up her friend which put a hold on any such activities.
Darlene had come in here worried if she was even going to have Gene in her life anymore which was unimaginable to her. Now watching the beautiful woman right out of some of her most artistic fantasy folios, she found herself being very 'interested.'
Sure technically, on paper. If filed confidentially no less, this woman was her wife. It wasn't as if they needed another complication to this godawful mess. Additionally, while Gene had survived so far, some of the more dangerous transformations were yet to come.
“Please, please come through this okay Gene.” Darlene whispered her pray heavenward as the concession hawkers made money hand over fist among the loud noisy crowd.
Part Two of Three
The Final Chapter! When all seems darkest, that is when one has to be the strongest for that's the sign that the light is coming.
This is a work of fiction. It is loosely based on an old game show. 'Who wants to be a Millionaire. No person or place are intended on being represented in this story. I reserve the rights for the plot and story. As always, the Biggest Thanks goes to the wonderful Cathy for she made this readable.
Enjoy!
By
Grover
10/29/2017
Royal or Serf
Second Round
Gene Aldric
Back on stage after Rose had 'zipped' me back up. I guessed that this was about the half way point even if twelve was not half of twenty-eight. It was passed this point where the Links cases put the poor contestants on the way to the point of no-return.
Then it was just a short hop, skip and jump to identity death. That was a fate I hoped to avoid.
The staff and crew began hurrying back to their positions and I saw Damon come out of the Accountant's blacked-out booth.
Game on!
The lights came back up and the music soared making me thankful I'd left those plugs in. That was even more so when the audience joined in when Damon walked onto the stage.
The MC held up his arms asking for quiet.
“Welcome to Royal or Serf, Round Two.” He nodded in satisfaction. “We've had an extraordinary show with an amazing contestant. Let's have a big hand of applause for Gene Aldric!”
I waved to the audience and the cameras, smiling.
“So far Gene has opened just over half the Royal cases putting our possible Princess ahead of the odds.” Damon grinned, “However, that also means two-thirds of the Serf cases remain on stage. I must admit even I'm feeling the stress here.
“But the question all of us are asking.” He gave a dramatic pause, “Can she do it?”
The crowd thundered their excitement, making wince despite the ear plugs. However, I kept my smile and my fists unclenched. If there was ever a time as my old crusty Army Sergeant Seymour use to say 'Stay Frosty' it was right now. Don't get excited, get ice cold sharp and don't miss a damn thing because it could and would kill you.
Breathe in, breathe out, remain calm.
“How are you holding up, Gene?” He intrusively put his arm around my shoulders yet again.
“I'm hanging in there, Damon.” My darn too soft near titillating lips almost made that smile genuine. “This has been an unforgettable experience, but I'm determined to play this through not just for myself, but for all of you out there who have helped me.
“Thanks!” I waved at everyone making sure I caught Darlene's eye as it got noisy again.
“We have a game to play,” Damon pointed up at the booth. “But first we have our first offer from The Accountant!”
The holo above us stopped displaying the show's marquee. Five thousand crowns in gold letters appeared with six links in a chain underneath.
“Gene,” Damon pulled me close again. “He's offering enough Crowns to buy your freedom if you accept six link cases of his choice.”
Breathe in, breathe out. He was offering me nothing because that was the worst possible odds results. Really not surprised because he wanted me to keep playing.
Even the audience figured that out as they began shouting, “NO DEAL, NO DEAL.”
“Damon,” I shook my head, “I think I'm going to have to go with them.” I nodded at the shouting assemblage. “No Deal!”
“You heard the lady.” He turned as the stage lights for the cases came up. “Let's play!”
“Case Number Seven,” Facing the stage, I was repeating my mantra over and over again.
Lana opening that case as chains rattled was likely going to haunt my nightmares assuming I had enough brains left to have understand what I was dreaming.
“We have a Serf case.” He really didn't have to say. “The category is genitals and the choices are:
1)Feel like a natural Woman
2)Wild Thing
3)All the options
4)Dolls are beautiful
“Please cast your votes now.”
My heart sank like a torpedoed ship.
The first holo showed a me in a bikini sporting a very obvious camel-toe. I had to assume from that and the title that meant being fully female.
The next one was dressed in a one piece swimsuit who obviously still was male from the bulge. Okay, I really didn't want to lose that part of me, but at the same time I didn't particularly want to be, well, abnormal, was probably the best word. My looking so like an elf was going to make me stand out enough as it was.
The third was also in an one piece, but it took me longer to puzzle out what I was seeing. This me was still male if not as obviously so, but there was something else as well. I know I made a face when I figured out what the title meant and realized this one was a fully functioning hermaphrodite, male and female. No, that would really make me stand out even more than the second.
The fourth was back in the bikini, but was absolutely smooth down there, sexless. Okay that was not good, at all! With my darn luscious lips I think I could figure out how I was expected to experience sex. Thank you but hell no!
“I can see this one is going to be difficult for you, Gene?” Damon hugged my shoulders again. “Your thoughts?”
“I think you're right about that, Damon.” Hopefully my voice stayed level and calm. “My first impressions were A, B, C all the above, or D none of the above.”
“I do like how you simplify things.” He laughed, “Do you have a preference?”
“This is very hard since I think a great number of us use this as how we see and define ourselves.” Stating that me was trying to buy me time to think. This would affect my brains even if it didn't act like some of the other mental changes. “I would hate to lose what I was born with because I don't know of any guy who sees himself as a guy who would want to.
“On the other hand, I can accept, at least intellectually, that if that happens I'm going to find fitting in more difficult.” I shrugged letting my real feelings show a little. Even in this day and age of nanotech, there were issues with just who got to use what public restroom. “The all the above is just the same thing as far as adjusting to all of this. However, the last one, is the worst of them all. That completely removes a person from being part of the miracle of life. I know of people who can't have children and adopt or find other means of having families, but that is an option I would never voluntarily chose.
“I guess I'm saying, I just don't know.” Please let me not be making a mistake by telling the truth here. “The folks here tonight and those watching have done right by me so far. So I'm going to trust you all out there to make the decision for me.”
“That's very brave of you.” He looked stunned although, Damon did cover it up well like the professional he was.
The bell rang.
“Please show us the winner.” He pointed at the holos above.
All the holo disappeared but one of those in the one piece. It was all the above.
My entire loin and lower tummy went numb. I honesty had no idea how or what to feel, besides shocked.
There was a vague feeling of movement inside me which I could make some good guesses as to what. A mild warmth flowed down there. The live holo of me showed a somewhat more prominent bulge than the holo promised, being about the same as 'Wild Thing.' The mons-pubis behind it was well developed too, which felt more than a little strange because I could 'feel' the pressure of the snug catsuit back there.
I wasn't sure, but I think my hips may had expanded some as well during that internal rearrangement. Honestly, I was too stunned at the other changes to really pay attention. Yeah, a case of watching the trees and not seeing the forest grow.
“How are you?” He asked, his eyes very intent.
A flash of intuition hit me. He'd known this was coming. Like Eagle had coached me, this was the make or break where they expected to have to sedate me. Then it would be all over for me. Clear headed I might have a chance, but drugged I was a dead man or whatever I was now.
Breathe in, breathe out, stay calm. So easy to say, but so damn hard to do!
“I'm still here.” I looked up at him with my best go to hell you bastard smile. “How about case 9?”
“Lana, case 9.” He hugged me again.
That was good, but not in the way most would think. My 'irritation' with him flared which helped clear my head better than any drug.
The damn clanking chains that announced another Slave case did it's part too.
“And we have another link case.” Damon read the list. “The category is Breasts and the choices are:
1) Twin peaks
2) Natural wonders
3) Sculptured perfection
4) Valley of Paradise
Please cast your votes now.” He turned to look up at the holos.
The first holo had me back in the catsuit and projected a me with breasts that looked rather generous, but not over-sized. On the other hand, her nipples were very prominent and visible. Sure this catsuit showed everything, but this was more than that. Maybe those wouldn't be comfortable, but at least they weren't beach balls stuck on my chest.
That was answered with next one. They were bigger than than the first, but still looked as the name said, natural. Trying to see them as detached as I could, they were too large for a svelte Amazon.
The next was a pair of perfect spheres that perhaps size wise fit on that body better, but with the Amazons muscles still seem out of place.
The last was a damn big pair of hooters! There was cleavage galore and I feared horrible back pains. They were just too damn large.
“What do you think, Gene?” He draped that arm over me again.
“The first one looks like it might be awkward with them poking out like that.” I couldn't think of a more diplomatic way to say it. “The next holo looks fairly nice, but maybe a bit large for a body that slim.
“The thirds are so round that they almost look like just another set of muscles. Their size seems better, but still doesn't strike me as being very good.” I critiqued what I saw.
“I know a lot of guys are breast men, but those just spoil things.” I shook my head. This had to be done carefully. I knew what kind of changes the girls here usually got. “It's like putting huge off road tires and a bush guard on a sports car. It just doesn't work.”
“Do you have a preference this time or are you going to trust the audience again?” He asked.
“No insult to anyone,” I smiled, “But I think I like Number One the best.”
I was beginning to think the bell was timed to go off just after he asks me my preferences because ring it did.
“Let's see what our audience thinks!” Damon looked up to see the results. “Show us the winner!”
Two holos went out leaving Twin Peaks and Natural Wonders.
“We have yet another tie.” His brows rose as the two holos combined. “Natural Peaks!”
As I'd learned would happen, my formerly flat chest went numb as the nanites did their work. Working on my breathing, I stared upwards at the holo which changed into my actual image again. I was 'not' going to watch my 'chest' inflate.
The natural wonders changed their shape some as the nipples rose in prominence. Me, I could 'feel' all of this happening. I had to lean back a little as my weight shifted to my front.
As much as my damn sensitive lips annoyed me, the nipples surpassed them. The embarrassment factor aside, they were damn delicate erogenous zones which let me 'feel' precisely how tight and form fitting this catsuit really was.
As they 'topped' those natural wonders, I found that they and my new equipment down below were connected. It took me some moments to not show every damn one just how much of 'All the Above' I had now.
Just how I managed to look down at, well, cleavage and not lose it, I'll never know. They most certainly looked a hell of a lot bigger on me than on the holo. Those 'peaks' just added to it all. However, I made, forced, myself to see that this was the last of the physical transformations.
What was to come was going to mess with my mind, wants and desires. My 'wonders' might be right there where I could not possibly ignore them, but they fell far short of what was to come.
Death, my death was on the line.
“How are you holding up?” Damon might've slipped a sneer back onto his face.
“Well, Damon.” I tilted my head to the side. “I'm thinking that I'll have a lot more appreciation for feminine undergarments now.”
His eyes widened just before he failed to keep his face straight and he busted out laughing. That just about caused a riot in the audience's seating as just about all of them joined him and were in danger of falling out of their seats.
Holding onto my calm and keeping my face appearing amused, was a challenge. Part of it was the humor of playing the straight man to the joke of making everyone break up, and the other was to keep myself from joining them and hysterically running out of this place.
I know he had been expecting me to freak out, which was why my humor had caught him by surprise. About the only person besides me who wasn't grasping for breath was Lana who just looked confused.
Giving a it moment's thought, I walked over to the stage displaying the cases.
“Hi, Lana,” I greeted, “I'm Gene. Sorry, but they might be a while.”
“Hi, Jean,” I blinked not really liking the feminizing of my name, but I suppose it was coming. “I really, you know, don't see what was so funny.
“I mean, like, you're not as big as me.” She jiggled her very sizable assets. “But you're still going to, like, need a really good bra. You know the guys likes to see them bouncing around, but, like, that kinda hurts.”
“That's why I said what I did.” I smiled into the vacant blue eyes. “Well, I better go back. We have a game to finish playing.”
“Okie dokie!” Lana smiled vacantly, going back to her pose.
Not trusting myself to bend, kneel, or really do anything, I stood next to the MC
“Feeling better?” I asked, sweetly. Say what you want I have role-played for years. I knew snark. “I have my next number if that helps. It's seventeen.”
“Lana,” Damon chuckled, “Case number 17, please.”
The Master's Chambers
The Inner Circle
“Now 'that' is will power.” Delta remarked. “I thought for certain he was going to break after the sex change and the tits, but 'she' even cracked a damn joke!”
“I have to agree.” Epsilon grudgingly nodded. “His history does say he'd been a role-playing gaming hobbyist for decades. That does promote a certain amount of mental flexibility and imagination. Even still, looking at the telemetry it'd been a very near thing.”
Alpha glowered silently in a huff.
“Oh stop your pouting.” Beta admonished. “These readings show that the one that angered you was punished to a hair of his sanity. It anything you should be rejoicing given the way you worship the bottom line.”
“Precisely,” Delta happily added, “The profits for this one program won't be chump change, and it'll greatly boost interest and subscriptions. If I didn't very much doubt this could be repeated, I would campaign for a format change to make this the normal fare.”
“Fat chance.” Zeta as always grunted unhappy as ever. “As a change of pace this works, but our usual bread and butter viewer desires more of a carnal display.”
“We do have to keep in mind this isn't over yet.” Beta pointed out. “If the average works out she should have enough cases to buy out without any other transformations.”
“But if it doesn't.” Alpha growled, he would still get payback, in full.
Chapter Thirteen
Princess or Serf
Jean Aldric
“And it's a crown case.” Damon proclaimed as the trumpets sounded. “Your total is now 3801!”
“That's great.” My smile stayed in place, but possibly got brighter. “Let's go with case number 12.”
“Let's see case 12, Lana.” The MC called out.
Those damn clanking chains rang through out the studio.
“Bad luck, Jean.” Damon looked up at the holo's “The category is talents.
1) As lithe as a Viper
2) She got legs
3) Looks like a Lady
4) Sings like an Angel
“Please cast your votes now.” He made a dramatic gesture.
This time instead of simply rotating to an all the round view, the images were animated this time. The first one did a slow tumbling routine that made me doubt she had any bones. I mean she was bending over all the way backwards and touching the floor with her palms!
The next me, seemed to have legs all the way up to you know where. Like in the song, she sure seemed to know how to use them as the image danced and whirled.
If the second was strutting her stuff, the third was didn't walk so much as she glided along with aplomb and poise. I had to admit to being surprised that such a 'talent' was even offered given how this show usually appealed to the lowest of the common denominator.
This me was actually singing! Color me surprised since I can't hold a tune in a bucket to save my life. I think the song was by a young pop singer that even I had to admit had a pair of lungs on her. Monique, I think was her name.
However, like I feared they all involved rewiring my brains even more than had been done already. The flexibility thing and the singing might not be so much, but since the others were, I wouldn't bet against it. At the very least my autonomic and muscle memory.
While I'd admit that for the most part these ties hadn't done badly by me, these were different. Each once would be altering some part of, well, the real inner me. Just how to get everyone to agree on one thing I hadn't a clue.
“You look deep in thought, Jean.” Damon put his arm around for about the hundredth time. “You care to share?”
“Well, Damon.” I sure hoped this worked. “These are a little different than the others so far. Being that flexible looks nice, but the second one is dancing and I'm not sure how well some parts of me will take to that now.”
I inclined my head down at my cleavage.
“The next one seems a bit too fake to be real.” I kept my wince to myself hoping trying to steer people away from that wouldn't bite me. From a few boos, I may have screwed up. Lightly, I warned myself. “The last I'm not too sure about either since singing is something I've never been the least bit good at.”
“So the only one you would pick for yourself would be 'As Lithe as a Viper?” Damon asked, raising a brow in question.
“I think so, Damon.” I tried to seem unsure. “I'm just not certain about the others.”
The end of voting bell rang.
'Let's see how sure the audience is.” He and everyone else looked up.
Not a single damn holo went out!
“We have our first four way tie since our first season!” He held onto me. “Hold tight, Jean. This can be disorienting.”
Aww hell! The world sorta faded away as mind got as fuzzy as if on powerful prescription pain-killers, leaving me blinking.
Just as quickly the misty thick headed feeling faded. Almost immediately, I notice my posture changing. It was a bunch of things I never noticed I was doing like how I was standing or slouching just a bit so not to bring too much attention to my natural peaks. That all changed.
“Jean,” The MC suggested, “Why don't you walk to the case stage and back. That will help you adjust to your new talents.”
I nodded, and took a couple of hesitant steps before getting the hang of it. Liking it was a big no. It seems this talent thing affected my subconscious and muscle memory. I moved like a graceful dancer. Even the way I swung my arms changed.
No sighing, I told myself as I turned and walked back like some fashion model. Keep smiling, and don't forget your mantra!
“So how is it?” Damon invaded my personal space once more.
“It's different.” My voice changed too? My tenor sort of sounded the same but it had more of a woman's contralto vibe now. Just great! Read the sarcasm.
“Are you ready for the next case, Gene?” He looked at the stage where over half the cases had been opened.
“Yes,” I concentrated on the task at hand ignoring my voice. “Let's start at the beginning, case number one.”
“At the beginning it is,” The MC declared, “Case One, Lana.”
Somehow I kept from fainting as those trumpets sang out!
I'd done it! But I had to pick one more case to reach the end of the round before I could quit. Please don't let this turn to crap right in my face.
“It's a Crown case!” Damon yelled out. “You have 5101 crowns on the board. You're potentially just two cases away from winning Royals and Serfs!”
The crowd got a little more nuts than before which is saying something. They and I knew there was just one more damn case in this round.
“Let's get to the end of the round first, Damon.” I smiled, tingling and all. “Case number four.”
“Lana, Case Number Four.” He didn't have to quiet everyone down.
I swear I could hear the machinery fans it was so silent except for Lana's heels clicking on the stage. It seemed like it took her an eternity to open Case four.
Trumpets sang out and to hells with it all. I gave Darlene sitting there in the front roll the biggest smile I'd ever smiled in my whole life.
“It's a Crown Case!” He threw his arms up like he'd just triumphed over great odds. “You have 6501 on the board, but there's just one more Crown case on the stage.
“It's the end of Round Two, but we have another commercial break!” He signaled the case stage lights to drop. “Stay tuned for when the Accountant makes another offer!”
“Damn girl,” Damon swore as his assistant handed him a towel. “You're going to be the death of me.
“You do realize that only very few contestants ever got this far?” He shook his head. “You really could win this damn game!”
I inclined my head at the stage with it's seven remaining cases. Six of them were bad news and the next round I had to pick four. Of course if I got the winning case the game ended right there, but the odds frankly sucked.
“Think about it.” Damon sighed, walking off stage again.
Rose came out again guiding me to a chair. Rather than collapse into it like I wanted, I sat and elegantly crossed my long legs. Even when she handed me a bottle of water, I held it differently.
This was definitely going to take some getting use to. Of course this wasn't done yet. I wouldn't consider it over until we both safely set foot back in the good ole USA. The people running this thing did not like losing.
I remembered very well that song I took for inspiration stanza that went, 'When to hold'em, when to fold'em and when to run.' We were just about at that last point. Show me the exit!
“You did it.” Rose whispered. “You really did it.”
“Not yet.” I softly replied, “It's not over till it's over.”
“You're going to continue!” She hissed, disbelievingly. “Are you crazy?”
“I'm stopping.” My smile turned grim. “If they let me. Then I'm fleeing as fast as circumstances will allow.”
“Oh,” Rose's anger disappeared. “I only wish I could go with you.”
“I don't think I dare use that word.” Shaking my head, my two toned hair swirled about my face. “They would think of some way of using it against us. That is what they do. They take your dreams, twisting and tainting them.
“However, maybe one day someone will be able to do something.” I sighed for perhaps the first time today. “Be well, be true to yourself, and keep faith with your beliefs.”
“Thanks, Gene.” She smiled, “But I think I need to get you back to the participants stage.”
“Lead on my Lady,” My voice still felt wrong the way I could feel myself making words. Did that make sense? Regardless it was time to meet with the devil himself.
Standing there, I kept up my breathing and my mantras. I think those Talents were the 'topping' of all of those other transformations. They did change me, but the Talents went further altering the way I did things. The way I moved, walked, and even talked.
After listening to Darlene try to explain how her 'condition' felt and how hormones affects men and women, I didn't want to think too much about what my All-the-above thing means in the long run. Will my thinking be like a man's? A woman's? Somewhere in-between?
However that didn't seem to be a problem so far and thankfully I'd missed anything else that could potentially modify 'how' I thought and felt. It would make it tough on anyone who knew me before this FUBAR, Fouled, Up, Beyond, All, Recognition, to 'see' me.
My body was different, as well as my body language too. My voice wasn't as much so, but it still had changed. I wondered if even Darlene who had sat here and watched it all would have a problem. Fingers were crossed real tight that she didn't because I was really depending on her help.
Just what I would do when I truly relaxed my self-control and open myself to the tidal-wave of emotion from what I'd experienced on this very long day. Scream, rage, cry, or maybe just pass out after having my body and very identity, do I dare say raped? At the very least I'd been treated very roughly although I think I kept enough of my wits about me to mitigate the worst of it.
The crew were settling down and the concession people were cleaning up more than they were selling anything. As the show's signature music began and the lights came back on, I was going to see what was going to happen next.
“Welcome back to Royal or Serf!” Damon walked out to a very excited crowd. “We have had one of the most memorable games in our history, and I think I can safely say one of our most interesting contestants.
“Jean Aldric!” The MC raised his hands for quiet. “Jean has been very lucky tonight, but has proved that she does indeed have that wisdom he spoke of at the beginning of our show.
“She had done something very few have before,” Damon gave a dramatic pause. “Here we are at the start of the third round, and she is one, just one case away from winning it all!”
After quieting the audience again, he put his arm around me yet again, damn it! Shorter I may be, but I did 'not' like that!
“Are you excited, Jean?” He asked.
“Yes, I am, Damon.” That was another of the few truths I'd spoken tonight.
“Usually,” He pointed up at the Accountant's booth, “I'd ask you if you want to continue or not. If so then The Accountant would make you an offer to keep the Royal title safe.
“However, tonight due to special circumstances He has directed me to do something different.” Damon lowered his voice making everyone listen more carefully. “You see it's come to our attention you have someone special out in the audience.”
My stomach tightened up, ready to make any gymnast jealous with the promised flips. We thought this might happen, but had little choice if they tried to drag Darlene into this.
“Ladies and Gentlemen let me introduce Jean's wife, Darlene!” Damon's eyes flashed because the bastard knew, Knew, that we had a backup plan. Just how they found out I was clueless, but damn it, they had!
“Please come join us, Darlene!” The spot lights found her and Rose, Damon's assistant, went to guide her to the stage.
The rest of the audience seemed to greatly enjoy this surprise. Unlike game shows elsewhere in the world, this one really was like a gladiatorial game with the contestants playing for their lives. That being so, family members were very rarely seen given some of the terrible if not horrible things that are done to the contestants.
Who would want to see their daughter who worked so hard to become a professional be reduced to a sexual play toy, maid or some other menial worker? It seemed like the mob took special glee in tearing down those who had rose up above them.
“Welcome Darlene!” Damon kissed her hand.
There was a spark when our eyes met. The two of us had gamed together for decades as well as being the best of friends. Despite this being one hell of a strange mess, it was like we read each others mind.
If the audience thought for a second that they were being played, they would tear us into little bloody bits.
“Easy with the new acquisitions.” I stepped to her, smiling. Over the years I'd been the subject of a great many of her hugs. Years ago, at first it was strange being hugged, by my 'guy' best friend, but I got over it. Nothing was harmed and honestly sometimes we all need hugs.
Just how we managed that cutesy holding hands behind our backs thing, I haven't a clue. Maybe that lithe talent of mine had something to do with it. Regardless that sideways hug which avoided squeezing my 'natural peaks' did feel 'much' better than the 'mauling' Damon had been giving me.
It simply felt natural to lay my head on her shoulder.
“Aw, isn't that sweet.” The MC just had to spoil the moment, but it was a wake up call too. This wasn't over yet.
“So why did you two hide your marriage?” He probed. “Why get married in Boston?”
“Our home state still doesn't allow same sex marriages.” I kept to the bare bones cover story we had if plan B, the backup plan had proved to be necessary.
“Although the nanotechs here fixed that problem.” Darlene continued on. “I still haven't had that certified by an approved doctor and signed of by a judge.”
“Boston was so if something did happen during our cruise,” I made a point of smiling up into her eyes. It was so strange with her being taller than me, but it felt great being held. “I would count as her spouse under international law even if our home state didn't.”
“And visa-versa, Dear.” When did her eyes get so beautiful? “Men,” Darlene rolled her eyes.
“I may or may not have that problem any more, Love.” If she can drop a cute endearment so can I!
That didn't have everyone rolling in the aisle again, but there was a lot chuckling!
“Alright you two.” Damon laughed, pointing up at the booth and then the holo tank. “I think the Accountant has an offer.”
“He knows you have enough Crowns to pay off your legal debt to society.” The MC continued. “However, if you go on to the next round he'll give you not one but two tokens to ignore two Serf cases of your choice. You can accept the transformation or decline it in any order you desire after the category is announced but before the actual choices are listed.
“That effectively takes two link cases out of play.” Damon explained as the case stage lights came up. “No one knows which cases are which, but that changes the odds of finding the last Royal case to One in Five from One in Seven.
“I imagine you both would like to discuss this.” He stepped away offering at least the illusion of privacy even if we had a half dozen cameras on us as well as before a sizable audience listening to every word.
Well they were getting their money's worth because Darlene had the same 'Oh Shit!' expression I'm sure I had. One thing I knew for sure was this was 'a no way Jose' deal.
Reading each other's mind again, we both knew we needed to make this good. After all the best role-play sessions is a lot like on stage improv.
“It's one in five, twenty percent, Love.” I played the Devil's advocate's role in dramatic whispers. “No one knows just what being a Royal really means, but we could find out!”
“That means four to one odds that you'll get another link case too!” She always did enjoy getting into character. “I loved you as you were, and I love as you are, but excuse me, if you're going to pick up a fetish, an imposed accent or some other compulsion, I'm going to be one making that decision!”
“But we would be able to ignore the bad ones!” I tried the puppy dog eyes, but given I wasn't sure just how that looked with my new looks, that must have been rather funny since a lot of people laughed.
“Maybe you haven't been keeping track of your cases.” Darlene's eyes narrowed, “I've been sitting there on my hands to keep from biting my nails and counting each and every one. There aren't any harmless cases sitting there. All of them modify behavior which, Dear, is my job!”
“Yes, my Love.” I sighed, which got more laughs.
“We've made our decision, Damon.” We walked over to him.
“We have to decline the Accountant's kind offer.” I kept glancing at my friend as if checking for her approval. “Really I guess it is for the best. After all I'm here to pay that debt. It really wouldn't be fair to all the others who has voluntarily played. Far better to leave it to one of those to win that honor in the future.”
“Are you sure?” Damon asked, looking at the both of us.
Without thinking about it we reached for each other's hands. “We're sure.”
“To buy your freedom, it costs Five thousand crowns.” The board showed the cost as the MC directed. “That leaves you with, after converting to Francs, 13,005.
“However I know the audience here and at home has got to be as curious as I.”
“Just what woulld've been your next case?” He pulled both of us close to him.
“I was thinking of eight.” My eyes stayed on Darlene.
“Lana, what would've case would've been?” Damon asked.
A clinking chain answered that question.
“That category would've been Habits,” He nodded, “And the next?”
“Seventeen,” I couldn't get enough of Darlene's smile.
More chains rattled, as Lana opened that case.
“This one would've been vocabulary.” Damon raised a brow as both I and Darlene winced.
“I like my husband's voice just the way it is even if it does sound like he's had years of voice training.” My friend, my wife?, explained.
“Your third case?” He moved things along.
“Twenty-five,” I really just wanted to get out of here!
The chains clanged again.
“And that category would've been fashion and style.” Damon nodded, “Being the third you would've been out of your get-out-of-jail token and would've had to take it.”
“I think we might've taken the Habit case,” I disagreed with him, “But not the Vocabulary one. I'm not sure about the dress style.”
“We would've blocked that one.” Darlene answered. “Both that and vocabulary changes too much about 'how' one thinks. I wouldn't want that for us.”
“And the last case of the round?” Damon smiled. “What would've that been?”
“Two,” Thank god this was almost over!
More rattling chains confirmed that continuing playing would've been just stupid.
“This one would've been voice accents.” Damon grinned at Darlene“And we know how you feel about that!”
“Of course, Dear.” I gave her my biggest smile, “You were right. Going on would've been a bad thing.”
“Maybe not bad, but not good either.” She corrected me to more laughs from everyone. “More changes and still no prize.”
“You should listen to her.” Damon laughed. “She's a smart one!
“And that's it people!” He raised his hands. “Her debt is paid and she still gets to walk out with a nice piece of change, sounds like a win to me!”
“Me too.” I held on to my friend's hand as the balloons dropped and the holo display above us lit up with fake fireworks.
“Have a happy honeymoon!” Damon waved bye as we were ushered off stage as the balloons swirled around us the music blasted making me cover my poor elf ears again.
I so wanted to ask what the hell was going on. They should've been much harder on us. I was expecting them to force Darlene to play perhaps by taking a link case for me or maybe something worst.
She put a finger on my lips, knowing some of the questions that was thundering around inside my head. Instead she lightly hugged me understanding that I was running on the ragged edge, but this was not the place to reveal anything at all.
Rose guided us to Wardrobe where they peeled me out of that darn catsuit. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised they had a complete set of clothes for me in my new sizes whatever they were. Maybe they had one of those auto-tailors I've heard about that you just put in the sizes and style and away it goes. This being a cutting edge production studio it was very possible.
The corset like top and green tights with ankle boots definitely were pushing the elf image. I suppose I should be very grateful that I brought my freedom before I picked up any makeup or other dress up compulsions. Darlene did step in and make sure my 'peaks' were properly protected. I guess they weren't extremely sensitive, but I was very aware of them. For that matter they sure weren't small or dainty either.
After that, two techs came by and officially removed those damn transforming nano cuffs. The nanotechnology devices were turned over to the two suited goons that had 'escorted' me here. As they shut the things in a padded case, my only thought was good riddance.
“Your nanites are going to still be active for anywhere between 12 to 24 hours as they stabilize your changes and begin to shut down.” The techs told us as well as got us to sign paperwork saying the same thing.
We knew that was important because until those damn things turned themselves off we couldn't leave. That was a problem because our damn cruise ship was going to leave without us. Fortunately, another of my friend's host of contacts were able to get if not a refund, a voucher of sorts that would let us fly out at reduced cost.
As far as I was concerned once I got to our hotel, I wasn't moving until it was time to for this birdie to beat wings for home.
“You also.” The tech continued, “Need to drink as many liquids as you can stand. Water is good, but juices are better. The nanites used up a lot of minerals and other vital nutrients. They will all help wash the remaining nanites away, but it's most effective right now. You do need to eat small portions of meat and vegetables, four maybe five times a day. No pigging out with big meals, but very small ones. That'll power the ones that left and replenish everything they used up to change you so fast in front of everyone.”
“And no alcohol!” The other guy warned. “That reduces the oxygen in your blood stream and that would not be good for all that the nanos can use it very easily for fuel. You did have some mental changes and the last thing you want is for the remaining machines up there to cannibalize parts of your brain.”
“I don't think that will be a problem,” I saw Darlene's glare.
“It's the same instructions I got from my nanotechs, but only more so.” She summed it up.
“Exactly.” The senior man nodded, gathering up the paperwork. “You two did good out there so please get home in one piece.”
We both just nodded.
“Get ready,” Rose warned as we left there and went to the door. “There's going to be a short publicity shoot as they hand you your prize check and walking papers.”
“Oh Joy,” I whispered dryly. The way I moved or just stood seemed more obvious when I was with Darlene. We'd been friends for so long we kind of adjusted flawlessly to each, the way close partners do in the police or as we were in the service despite not being in combat arms. My new poise threw that off a little, but already we were relearning so we didn't bump into the other or anything.
The lights and cameras as the doors opened weren't nice, but it was over quicker than I expected. Damon had his picture taken with me and then the both of us as well as this guy Darlene said tried to make pressure her, a Mr. Perez.
More pictures as I was handed a check and my paid-in-full paperwork for my legal problem. I made myself wave as we were herded into a limo to take us to our hotel. Only it wasn't 'our;' hotel, but another much more upscale with a honeymoon suit.
Yet more pictures as we were checked in, and finally to our room where all of our stuff had been moved to. Not that any of it was much use to me. My boxers would not come close to fitting any more and I wasn't sure about my razor. Maybe just my toothbrush would be useful of all of my stuff.
As a courier, I did tend to travel light.
A dining cart was sitting in the room and I fell on it like a starving wolf even if I did it 'Like a Lady.' It was as if I didn't realize just how hungry or thirsty I was until it was in front of me, exhausted or not.
Through it all my friend just sat close next to me.
I didn't eat as much as I expected, but that was the small meal thing that I'd been told.
“How did they find out?” That Lady thing had me dabbing at my mouth instead of my usual wiping.
“I don't know.” Darlene shook her head. “The papers were all inserted, but that shouldn't have raised any flags. The only thing I can think of is the obvious. They had your cell bugged which we kind of suspected anyways.”
“It was too much to ask for to have them obey their own rules.” I sighed, observing that made my newly acquired parts jiggle. “Big people and little people, I reckon. Those with the power make or break whatever rules they want.”
“Could be that computer here broke the encryption we were using to talk to Eagle.” Darlene countered leaning into me.
“That or maybe both.” I let her. It felt nice and I knew I was about to well, react.
“So, we're married, huh?” My voice sound so small. I think I was very worried about her rejecting me and what had been done to me. The irony that this was likely how she felt when first telling me that she was Darlene and was now transitioning weren't lost on me.
“I guess we are.” My friend sounded just as unsure as me.
“Then hugs please?” I just had to let her make the first move. Even as I looked now, I suppose I had to be the gentleman.
“Always.” As her warmth closed about me, my tears began.
“Excuse me as I cry a bit.” I felt choked up. “I don't think I can stop it.”
“Cry away, Dear.” Arms tightened protectively about me. “Cry away, I'm here, I'll always be here.”
All the feelings and emotions so full of fear, angry, and so many other things I'd never be able to sort them all out, flooded me. It might not be the manly thing to do, but when faced between going crazy and crying I know which one I'd choose. Besides like I'd thought about earlier, god only knew how hormones ran in this 'All the above' body of mine now.
Sobbing my heart out, I guess I went to sleep, but honestly with her holding me and gently stoking my head, I wouldn't have it any other way.
The Accountant
Everything had not gone precisely to plan, but it rarely did. With any game there was the element of luck and truth be told Elf had played well. Despite brushing the edge a few times, she well and fully understood that keeping the audience happy was the difference between walking out with her wife or being the exotic ever efficient assistant role he'd wanted for her.
She didn't know that, but if she had stayed true to the choices she might've made, it was nearly a sure thing in the following round. He had tempted her, but without having her judgment impaired by a change or sedation, only an idiot would have played on. His Elf had proved that she was most emphatically wasn't an simpleton.
The Inner Council had sent on their approval with only one expressing his unhappiness. The Accountant shrugged, you couldn't make everyone happy, but he would settle for what he received. The initial ratings were right through the roof with markets that usually wouldn't touch Princess or Slave for any reason expressing interest in the episode. That was very good and had great potential for the future.
Satisfied that his newest picture was straight he stepped back. She wasn't one of those who escaped him, but more like catch and release. The situation would not let him keep her, but that did not make him any less contented. The Five was now Six and that was enough.
It was time to look over next week's victims. There was this young computer programmer who was operating under the misconception that he was more intelligent than his employers. Prima-donna Egos could be forgiven, embezzlement, never.
Hmmm... that gave him an idea. A touch of culture could be the perfect touch after last night's show. A talk with tech support was called for.
The Accountant smiled challenging himself to exceed his latest success. They haven't seen anything yet!
Chapter Fourteen
Sainte' Royal Hotel
Gene Aldric
What went in had to come out. Oh, the stench of some of it, but the atypical stuff going on inside me meant nasty stuff had to come out. It was getting better, but thankfully Darlene had encouraged me to try a bunch of different juices and foods I normally shied away from.
“I wouldn't be surprised if your taste buds were different.” She pushed a glass of grapefruit juice at him. “Give it try and if nothing else remember it's just liquid that isn't going to stick around for very long.”
“Do I even have a digestive tract?” I moaned because it seemed I was running to the bathroom every ten minutes.
“Yes, but it's probably smaller now and it's likely being flushed by all the nanities.” Darlene smiled, looking at my covered privates. “So how is that working for you?”
“I'm still peeing standing up if that is what you wanted to know.” Blushing like I hadn't in years, I didn't want to say more.
“And your new addition?” Her eyes danced with mischief. “Don't be shy. I have one now too, even if I did get rid of what you kept.”
“Okay,” My breasts rose and fell as I sighed. She would drag it out of me if I didn't tell her. “I've been getting a little damp there and yes I know what that means.”
“Gene,” It was her turn to sigh which I noticed her chest also rose and fell in an interesting way. “Right now your hormones are no doubt all over creation. Arousal happens and is nothing to feel guilty about.
“However,” Darlene closed her eyes. “I know you. You'll dance around things and avoid confronting issues if you think it'll cause a problem. So here it is straight out.”
“You're my friend.” Those chocolate eyes opened up looking right into mine. “I'm not going anywhere no matter how you changed. Didn't you pay attention when we prepared for the worst when we got married? That was so if I had to, I could care for you no matter if you were a brain dead bimbo.
“That said,” Darlene took a deep breath, “I am attracted to you. My liking girls never changed and you, my Dear, are a serious dish. With all of my years of gaming, do you think I wouldn't be interested in the beautiful elf ?
“What's more it's not going to damage our friendship.” Her eyes narrowed. “It has gone through a lot of far worse things than a failed romance and have survived.
“I'm not going to pressure you, but you have no idea of how much I want to kiss you.” Darlene shrugged, “But I'm not going to. However, if you come over here and kiss me, I can guarantee you'll get kissed back. What happens after that I don't know, but we will always be friends, but we might be something else too.
“If you just want more hugs.” She held out her arms. “I can do that as well, because no matter what I want you in my life.
“No, I 'have' to have you in my life.” Tears began running down her cheeks.
“Damn,” I cursed, feeling very, very uncomfortable and awkward. “Why did you have to start crying for.”
I had a lump the size of a boulder in my throat, but I moved to her anyways. Wiping those that dampness away, I wasn't sure if this was good thing or not.
“As you wish.” I lifted my lips to hers.
That tingling that'd bedeviled me since my lips changed into Luscious Bows, turned into a delicious spreading warmth, that made me realize just what it 'take my breath away' really meant. Panting as we pulled apart, I was damp if not outright 'wet' down there. I think she must've been too from the way my nose picked up her scent.
“If we do that again.” Her voice was husky with desire. “Something is going to happen.”
“What about protection?” If she hadn't been holding me up, I would've fell. My poor legs felt like noodles. I had no idea if that was even something I had to worry about.
“Not until after my first period.” Her lips got closer.
“Well,” I think I was just as breathy as Darlene as I opened my mouth to hers. “That's nice to know.”
I've always tried to be a gentleman and never kissed or told. Right now I really had not a clue if that applied to me or not. I will say it was amazing all the overwhelming sensations or not. I'd also never thought about being submissive, but considering how all my senses were singing like a full orchestra it was bound to happen.
Next time I don't know, but I know I did like it.
“Is there going to be a next time?” I asked, cuddled in her arms.
“Yes,” her gentle hands stoked my hair and face.
“Good,” I snuggled happily beside her. I guess my own desire was so very plain to see.
A small rumble spoiled the moment. Damn bodily functions, I abandoned my perfect spot to avoid embarrassment.
“I'll be back.” Quoting, I shuffled back to the bathroom as fast as I could with her laughing behind me.
“Only in reruns!” She quoted, the obnoxious announcer guy from 'The Running Man.'
“That's not funny!” I retorted, leaning out from the toilet, considering we had just escaped our own Death Game.
“Oh, but it is!” She walked in on me still sitting.
“What are you doing?” It was a waste of time trying to cover up, I was on the throne!
“You didn't look at the amount on the checks?” She turned on the shower.
“Of course I did!” Sign something from these people and not read it very carefully, never!
“The second check as well?” Well, she was mostly undressed already, but her attractive girl-next-door who had bloomed in a woman, was beautiful to me. Not only was she still my friend, but somehow had become even more. Just how much more I really, really wanted to find out.
“What second check?” I made a point of remembering her hygiene lessons. No way in hell did I want anything to do with yeast no way, no how!
“The one underneath the first that's I guess is like a bonus.” She replied, “They didn't want to reveal just how much the grand-prize really is so this is their way of concealing even this partial win.
“Do I even want to ask how much?” I stood feeling so very vulnerable as she finished undressing me.
“Not nearly enough for what we went through.” She hugged me again which I needed. “With the official winnings close to a three quarters of a hundred grand.”
“This is going to suck isn't it?” My mind was full of not having a job, needing everything like clothes and whatever other special needs that I had to have now.
“But you have me.” She got me into the shower.
“And that is all I'll ever want.” Soap, shampoo, and sex scents were heavy on the steamy air, but most of all it was hers, Darlene. Maybe I couldn't capture lips like I could when I was taller, but looking up at her and offering my lips to her worked just as well or better.
My dearest friend's eyes shined as we kissed and held each other under the falling water, perfect.
Epilogue
Magic-Con
Jean Aldric-Franklin
Click-tap, click-tap, I never thought I would ever be hearing the sound of me of all people walking in heels. I's all Darlene's fault or Imoen from Baldur's Gate while in her present attire.
Me, because of my big mouth was dressed as, wait for it, Virconia DeVir. The silver wig and violet eye contacts with a little face black was all that was needed. Of course my real hair was gelled and skin capped down tight, because Darlene would not let me cut it even if it would grow back in record time. Just so it's said, no, it won't hold a dye.
Five, four, three, two, one … Crash!
“That's two,” I leaned over to 'Imone.' “Only three more nerds to go.”
“You would think they wouldn't walk into displays like that.” Darlene in her costume giggled. “You would think they've never seen an Elf cleric or a half-Elf thief before.”
“As long as they don't try kidnapping me.” I smiled grimly. “I'm alright with them making fools of themselves.”
“That didn't work out too well for the last ones.” She touched my arm signaling she'd seen something at a dealer's table of interest. “It is right there in your public records that that you used to work as an armed courier.”
“Most people think of the ones on bicycles.” I nudged her gently. “Guys packing heat, driving armored vans makes most people think of Wells-Fargo or Loomis.”
“There is no excuse for not doing your research.” She picked up a silver bracelet with some nice Celtic knot work. “Particular when failing means hard time. Kidnapping is a federal crime.”
“But they don't check to see what I'm doing now either.” I complained. “A self-defense instructor should make most of even the biggest idiots think twice.”
“Misogyny, isn't about intelligence, my dear DeVir.” She held up my arm to see how it would look on me. “Me, man, you woman, me take, ugh.”
“Me, Elf with concealed carry license.” I giggled, “Me shoot Ugg in foot so the cops don't have to run to catch you.”
“If you don't mind me asking,” The woman minding the booth smiled, Imoen. “How far along are you?”
“Just finished my first trimester.” My Love's hand laid on her 'baby bump.'
“Congratulations!” Her name tag said Ruth. “I didn't know if it was you two until now. The makeup and hair is really well done, but I remember who you said was your favorite fantasy character...”
“That is going to haunt me forever,” I groaned. “It seems like everyone has seen at least an edited version of that damn show. On the other hand, I can't resent it at all.”
My hand joined my Love's resting 'our' baby.
Forced into a twisted game; changed beyond all recognition; lost my job; the legal pain of having to prove I was still me; it was still worth it because I had the woman I loved and our child yet to be.
“Truer bastards have never lived,” Ruth spat, “But sometimes even as nasty as a piece of work as that Island, some good comes of it.”
Both of us nodded. Legal Eagle had recruited us and many others into what amounted to lobbying organization that aided that place's victims and warned others of just the kind of dangers they might be walking into.
The plain truth was that the rules against certain nanotechnologies were there for with good reason. The Isle, however, broke and ignored those rules, but if not for them, my Love and I would not be expecting a child nor would I have potential to give birth either.
Not that I wanted to, but I have to admit to some curiosity. I suppose I was slowly getting used to being feminine no matter that I had 'all-the-options.' Those 'talents' did strongly urge, if they didn't force me, to act like I looked, a lady. I could ignore that and run around in my old guy clothes, but I felt better, more comfortable, if I didn't. Besides Darlene gave me no end of grief when I did even if it was mostly just to prove I still could. Acceding to her wishes made her happy which in turn made me very, very happy.
I think we both still wondered if we'd been setup during that last segment after all. Sure the nanites were left to their own programming after those cuffs were removed. They were to stabilize the transformations and when finished allow themselves to be flushed out.
However, we were both together on stage there at the end and they might've done something there. We certainly jumped on each other the next day like a pair of rabbits. So did they push along the 'honeymoon' thing?
The CDC office that examined me with a fine tooth comb grudgingly gave me certification that I was safe and wasn't going to become Gray Goo Plague Patient Zero. What was done was done and we were happy with the lives we'd made in the aftermath.
“I know I wouldn't” Ruth smiled at us. “More true fans are showing up with ears like yours as well as other modifications that are mostly in good taste. Still something does need to be done about that cursed Island.”
Imoen took Ruth's hand gently questioningly.
“She was a cousin.” Tears gathered in the woman's eyes. “She never came back.”
“Someday,” I whispered. I'd never forgotten Rose, but understood that even attempting to rescue her could cause those vindictive asses to harm her. It was hard not doing anything, but working the system to gather support was for now the best way to help not just her, but all of those caught in that hellish paradise.
“We think the reason Jean and I came out reasonably whole.” Darlene shared. “Is that they were going for some positive public relations. That broadcasted suicide truly hurt them and their precious profit margin.”
“And while their show with me did gather them a lot of attention.” I was grinning now. “It also put their usual activities in stark contrast. What is so sad about the entire mess is that there are plenty of people that would volunteer for even some of their sickest ideas.
“The problem is the show targets those who want nothing to do with that and allows a bunch of rich sickos act out their revenge fantasies. To add insult to injury, they then get paid for it.” I gave my opinion. “Some of their other shows aren't near that bad and a few that are honestly entertaining. Princess or Slave is not.”
“Here,” Imoen handed Ruth a card. “This is a group that is gathering political support and humanitarian aid for the victims. If you or your family wants to help please call this number or look up our website.
“Part of our strategy is to make some of the services the Isle provides available elsewhere.” Our fingers interweave above our child. “Making it safer and more palatable to the world at large, but also hitting the Isle where hurts, in their end of year profit reports. There are things that people will dare making a deal with the Devil himself if they have to. We aim to undercut the bastards.”
“I will.” Her eyes were thoughtful.
There was a crash behind us, that had Ruth startled in surprise.
I knowingly glanced back at the jumble of gamers and merchandise in a mess on the dealer's floor.
“More victims, Dear?” My wife asked, mischief in her eyes.
“Aye, beware the peaks for they are treacherous!” Ruth choked with laughter and my dearest Love leaned on me giggling madly especially after I gave my bust a long look. Padding and cushioning could only hide so just so much.
Purchasing the pair of matched silver bracelets, we walked arm in arm among the varied races of imagination and dreams in the marvelous bazaar filled with wondrous devices and wares.
The future lay before us.
I giggled as I raised the spinning mower blade all the way up and put it into forward. In front of me the Gardener laid vainly trying to roll out of the way. He wouldn’t make it. Absolutely amazing the poisons found in ordinary household products.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. None of the characters presented here are meant to represent anyone living, dead or otherwise. I the author reserve all rights.
This story was inspired by a story that quite frankly pissed me off. The poor main character while trying to do the right thing was betrayed and treated worse than an animal. That caused me to write this while I was still angry. I debated posting this, but since you're reading this now, you know what I decided. I hope I got the right tags up because this is a rough story that DOES NOT have a happy ending.
Grover
I giggled as I raised the spinning mower blade all the way up and put it into forward. In front of me the Gardener laid vainly trying to roll out of the way. He wouldn’t make it. Absolutely amazing the poisons found in ordinary household products. At the very minimum it was nice to know that while my brains had been thoroughly scrambled some of my knowledge still remained.
The man mowing the grass was going to get mowed! That made me giggle even more madly. It was only simple justice since he’d mowed my grass often enough.
Shaking my head, I did my best to concentrate on my next task. Stepping off of the fume belching green machine, (nothing runs like a deer!) I quickly caught my balance on my 8 inch platform heels. After all the practice I’d had it wasn’t difficult. Besides, I had no choice since, along with the electro-brain scrambling the so kind ’Ladies’ at The Institute had also shortened my Achilles Tendons. I couldn’t walk without them.
As I left the shed I quickly shut the door to keep blood spatters off my maid’s uniform. Smiling blankly, I hurried back to the mansion that used to be mine. Flouncing like I’d been conditioned, my double Dees danced in the lacy top of my PVC uniform. Mistress had made certain I knew the size of the implants since she’d had the Ladies tattoo a DD just so every time I looked down, I would know.
Entering the kitchen, I passed the Butler. He didn’t look too happy but I guess impalement does that. He’d fallen victim to the same household cocktail as the Gardener. So strange the stuff you could slip into coffee without anyone noticing. This time wisely I turned away from the sight. I didn’t need the giggles again from the Butler getting it up the butt with a plunger. Maneuvering him and it into place hadn’t been as hard as I’d feared. A little lube made up for the lack of muscle mass that was stolen from me. Poetic justice was my watch word today although he did have it easy. He never lubed up for me after all.
A check of the stove and the hot water heater revealed that all was progressing as it should. Feeling a peace that’d been missing for so very long, I wheeled the breakfast cart into the dining room.
The Master and Mistress were waiting.
Mistress, as always, ignored me. I’m after all only the maid. However I knew all too well the punishments if everything wasn’t exactly the way she wanted it. Over the past year I’d experienced them all, but after all this time they thought me broken. I honestly couldn’t say they were wrong. However damaged I was, it didn’t mean I was helpless.
She lifted the teacup to her lips while the Master took a sip of his coffee as he read his morning paper.
I’d seriously considered ‘additives’ to her tea, but had decided against it. She might be able to pick out the taste since tea isn’t the same as coffee. For him it was no choice at all. He was much bigger than I now, and I wanted every advantage I could get.
Standing attentively by her, I judged the time as best as I could. How long for my additives to be absorbed into his stomach lining? Part of the reason for taking care of Butler and Gardener was to get my timing down.
However my senses of such things were off just as I could no longer tell my right from my left. The Ladies were fiendishly good with their infernal devices. Making my best guess I struck.
The kitchen knife I’d carefully sharpened to a razor’s keenness whispered out slicing the air itself.
Parted curls floated in the air as she threw herself away, the shock on her so perfect face a joy to my eyes.
I didn’t have to look to know the Master was lunging for me. Bracing for the impact, I played my last desperate card.
Ironically he screamed like a girl informing me, I’d guessed right.
Turning to face him, The Master was staring at the steak knife impaling his hand. My programming prohibited me from striking them, which was why I’d missed with my slash at her. However, I knew he would react. All I had to do was provide something for him to run into. With his reflexes and senses dulled by my ‘special’ blend of coffee it’d been good enough. The Ladies’ mistake was linking their conditioning to this visually. What I couldn’t see, didn’t kick in that crippling pain and anxiety.
Board shouldered and handsome, the Master had once been my business partner and I’d believed also my friend. He’d revealed his true colors in so many ways that the very thought of the way he’d deceived me caused me to get ill in a way that had nothing to do with what the Ladies did to me.
Whimpering at the long blade though his hand, he stared at me in astonishment. I giggled, unable to help myself. Golf and Polo do not have the same toughening effect as spending months in the Big Sandy behind enemy lines vainly looking for WMDs.
Judging the distance, I swirled swinging the ten inch Damascus Slicing Knife. I hardly felt any resistance at all, although the dull thump told me I hadn’t missed. A few wet droplets hit me, but I was careful not to look at them. The Ladies had insisted that their ‘girls’ always be immaculately attired. Blood stains were so hard to get out of fabrics, but usually it was my own.
Meanwhile Mistress was gaping in horror at the Master. Stunned she tried to get to her feet, but froze as I pulled the .45 ACP out of where I’d planted it earlier.
“Fifi,” She commanded, her voice wavering with the stress. “Put that away now.”
“Oops!” I replied, giggling yet again. “Fifi isn’t here right now, but if you would leave a name and number she’ll get back in touch with you.”
Pretending to think hard, I rhetorically asked her.
“Now, how do you do this?” I put conscious thought out of my mind, letting years of training take over.
I racked the slide, slamming a round home into the chamber and clicked off the safety in one smooth move.
She turned white realizing just how dire her situation was right now.
“Wow,” I exclaimed. “There really are things that’re just like riding a bicycle. You really don‘t forget!”
It was really easy to recover my pistol. The desk had been at one time mine, and I always kept excess spare keys to everything. That was an old military habit that had saved my skin more than once. I suppose it was just more ego polishing that made the Master keep my firearm. Which reminded me of something I’d been meaning to do.
Turning my head, I pointed the Colt Combat Elite at the Master. I made myself disregard the little voice that moaned at the mess he’d made bleeding out. Setting the sight picture on his genitals, I closed my eyes.
The thunder of the eight rounds of .45 set my ears to ringing. A glance showed that The Master had been blown after his morning coffee just like he liked, blown away that is! About half of my wild shots had missed but had been close enough to turn what had humiliated me so many times into nothing more than ground meat.
Fighting my mad giggles again, I hit the magazine release and slapped in another before the first hit the ground. Old reflexes do die hard.
Mistress’s attempt to flee stopped as she did the ‘Bambi Stare’ down the ACP’s bore.
I tried for a moment to say her name, but nothing came to me. Just like with the Master, I could only think of her as Mistress. Sighing, I tried another tack.
“When you accessed my military records you should’ve realized that they were sealed and what you saw was the sanitized version. I spent the best years of my life for my country and left only when I no longer trusted the leaders to whom I’d sworn my loyalty.”
She blinked at me. She’d only known me as the self made millionaire who, besides the shooting thing, was rather a pacifist. There was just too much blood on my hands and soul. I know now that she’d taken my non-aggression philosophy for weakness, and used me. What could I say besides I’d loved her? Too late, I found out that love blinded me to someone that did not deserve it.
She shouted out another command word that made me twitch, but I smiled at her surprise.
“You see,” I explained. “I’ve been trained to resist and overcome that sort of thing. I must admit that what was done to me far exceeds what anyone training me envisioned, but I was still able to save a part of myself.”
A scent caught my attention. Hmmm, the smell of gas, it smells like …. Victory!
“A small part maybe, but enough I think to do the job.” Giggling I sing-songed, “Oh dinner is almost done!”
She kept glancing at the kitchen door.
“If you’re waiting for the Butt-ler or the Gar-dener to come rescue you, you’re going to be disappointed. They’ve been delayed for the rest of their lives.” That damn giggle took over again however my aim didn’t waver.
She tensed up. I couldn’t have that. Sighing, I did my closed-eyes thing again risking only one round. I couldn’t risk my conditioning shutting me down by deliberately shooting her.
See no evil! Do no evil!
She screamed in pain which made me smile. My aim had been dead-on hitting her in the thigh just as I wanted.
I stood silent waiting patiently for the begging to begin. It didn’t take long.
“You can’t kill me. I’m pregnant with your child!” She cried clutching her shattered and bleeding leg.
“No dice!” I replied. “His maybe, but not mine. I can still count. It’s been far longer than a year since that last time. Try again.”
“No!” She protested. “It really is yours. To make sure none of your relatives tried to cut in for a share of your inheritance after we had you declared dead, I was artificially inseminated by what we had stored. It really is your baby. We were going to force you to wet nurse you own kid!”
That made me hesitate. It was the kind of thing they would do. On the other hand, Mistress she might be, but she was also a professional liar.
Giving the air another sniff, I tried to judge things. The soup was really far along and if I didn’t stir it something else would. However, even if it wasn’t my child, it still didn’t deserve to die for her crimes. That is if she was really pregnant.
Policing up the knives, I didn’t want Mistress to get ideas after all, I peeked out the window. Rather unsurprisingly I saw a SWAT van parked in the trees. Someone must have observed my earlier handiwork and the gunshots had confirmed their suspicions.
Making my decision, I took her purse and turned it upside down, emptying it on the floor. Picking up a pair of tampons, I ripped open the wrappings and shoved one each into the entry and exit holes in her leg.
Ah, yet more satisfying screams! However they were sterile dressings and would keep her from bleeding out. Elevating her other leg I did what I could for shock.
Due to more of the ‘Ladies’ handiwork, just touching a phone was very unpleasant, so I kicked her cell phone over to her. Dialing was one of those tortures I hadn’t found a way around.
“Call 911.” I ordered with my vacant smile pasted on my face.
As she began babbling about mad women with guns, I took it from her.
“This is the Maid. Please patch us to the Police at this location.”
I didn’t have time for their negotiation tricks. When dinner was done, it was done and nothing could stop it.
I cut off the officer as he began his spiel.
“I’m going to release one of the hostages. She has a bullet in her leg and claims she’s pregnant. I’m shoving her out the door, but if you try anything at all, she’ll get another bullet understand?” No need for them to know everyone else was fatally indisposed.
He babbled back about deals and the usual double-talk.
“I said do you understand!” I ignored his pleas.
“Mistress!” I said brightly. “You have five minutes to get out of this house or you’ll be dead, dead, dead. If I were you, I would get moving!”
Shoving the wheeled cart at her to help her walk, I had to pull her up anyways. It took far longer than I liked, and I knew that when I opened that door it was likely a sniper would put a bullet between my eyes. However I had to take an extra-minute to shove the fire-proof box onto the cart too. Plans had changed, but with any luck it would be found.
Grabbing an umbrella from the stand by the door I opened it to shield us from sight. All I needed was to blind the sniper for a few seconds. She hobbled to the door, but I pushed her out with all the power I had left in me.
The hammer slamming me back told me I’d been too late. Old habits came to my aid again using that same energy to guide me back inside and shut the door.
One arm wouldn’t work, but I could still reach up and flip the deadbolt shut. Looking down at the damage I had to laugh. Above my heart was a mass of bloody jelly. The sniper had blown my boob off! The massive blob of silicon had likely kept him from getting an instant kill. As the pain caught up to me, I probably had a few busted ribs and who knew what else.
Well, only one thing left to do. This was one action those who carried a firearm for a living knew how to do right. Considering all the other things I’d been made to shove in my mouth, this wasn’t all that bad.
A flicker of light made me glance at the window. There was a SWAT guy peering in checking things out.
With a wink, I waved bye, bye. I was a warrior and would have my pyre.
Lt. Dolman cursed as debris continued to rain down. He had people down all over the place because of that explosion. The fireball was still rising into the sky and he had at least one dead body and another wounded. Who ever had rigged the thing had known what they were doing. The whole house must’ve been full of propane.
As the fire trucks and EMTs arrived it didn’t get any better. A prominent citizen and big contributor to the Mayor looked to be dead. That just added to the controversy of the wife’s previous husband who had died leaving all his millions to her.
Then they found the firebox.
A week later he wasn’t sure how he felt.
“Fire!” Commanded the head of the honor guard.
None of his guys had died but one was going to be in the hospital a while. You just don’t stand that close to an explosion without paying the price.
“Fire!“ The military men in formal dress blues fired another salute
The stuff in that firebox made him ill just thinking about it. How could someone betray their marriage vows like that? He’d seen couples shoot, knife, and beat each other senseless, but never had he heard of this before. They’d shut down that damn Institute and if anything what they found there was worse. The deliberate crippling and mutilation was inhumanity at its worst. The poor people they had found within were beyond pitiful.
“Fire!”
He flinched thinking of how one special forces captain had somehow overcome all that was done to him. Dolman couldn’t condone revenge, but he had doubts Captain Blake was sane at the end. The humiliation, torture, and brain-washing was enough to destroy anyone.
It almost made him sick that the former Mrs. Blake had plea bargained her way out of hard time. She would still spend time behind bars, however, she held the information that not only broke the Institute down but led to others.
He did smile that one condition was that she would not be allowed to keep the baby regardless of who was proven the father. Blake’s parents would be given custody. As for the fortune, it remained to be seen. Most would be held in a trust fund for the child, but he was sure that would be appealed by someone.
Funerals were never easy and his eyes teared up as the first clods rained down upon the coffin. He didn’t miss the grim-eyed men in army dress uniforms and their green berets. There weren’t any tears among them. The clenched fists and iron jaws told of another emotion.
No, he didn’t believe in revenge, but he truly pitied anyone the DA missed putting behind bars.
Crisply, he snapped off a salute to the fallen, and executed an about face. It was time to get back to work.
Girls, have you ever had one of those days where no matter how hard you tried, your makeup looked like a clown face and saying you were having a bad hair day was an understatement? Perhaps all you needed was a friend! The Makeup Fairy
By Grover |
It would so much easier, if she could just pretend to be the lumbering guy everyone else saw. However, her inner girl had other ideas. After years of broken relationships, lost jobs, and depression, it was pretty clear that only insanity lay in that direction. It had taken years of therapy, anti-depressants, and yet more therapy, to get her to admit the nature of her problem.
Gail sighed again, making another face at herself. Her daddy always said you had to work with what you had. That made her smile, because she very much doubted her practical father had anything like this in mind.
Her mom was always the strong one, bound and determined to withstand whatever life threw at her, no matter what. Together, her parents had made a good couple, even if they hadn’t a clue on how to deal with her peculiarity. She still missed them so much, despite the years that had passed since the accident that had taken them from her.
Gail closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She would clean her face off and try yet again. First she decided to follow the advice of that song that had sustained her though many difficult times. She knew her voice left a lot to be desired, but music had always helped. As silly as it was, she sang, “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens.”
Losing herself in happier times, she didn’t care who heard her, or what they thought. Lost in those childhood memories, Gail was barely aware of a light tingling upon her face, bug!
Her eyes snapped open, looking wildly for the creepy crawlie, but instead, her mouth fell open in utter amazement.
There, in the mirror, was an attractive woman with her makeup done superbly. She could barely tell that she was wearing any makeup at all. The colors and shades were skillfully blended to hide her masculine features.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spied movement by the drapes that she had carefully pulled shut, to make certain of her privacy. Racked by indecision, she didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to know, to see, who had done such a wonderful job, while the other simply wanted more.
Her entire life, Gail wanted to believe in the supernatural and the paranormal. If miracles were real, then just maybe this gross male body of hers wasn’t the prison it had always seemed.
After the fire left her with no place to stay, her grandmother had taken her in. From another time and place, the eccentric old woman told her all kinds of fantastic tales and stories. For years, she used to leave out treats for the ‘little people’ and it only stopped after her death.
Gail had inherited the old place, but while she had always hoped and wished that the stories were true, she had never gone to the lengths her grandmother had.
Were the stories true? Had perhaps her singing, caused them to help her, like one of those old fairy tales about brownies, cobblers, elves and all the rest?
She had to suppress a giggle. The Lil’ Folk of legend weren’t known for being makeup artists!
There was one way to prove that theory. Keeping her eyes to herself, she went to her kitchen. Feeling silly, she poured some milk in a bowl and took it with her back to her bureau.
Sitting, she placed the bowl in front of her.
Calming herself, she said in her best feminine voice. “Thank you so much. You did a wonderful job. Could you help me with my nails and hair please? I would be most grateful.”
Feeling even more foolish, she closed her eyes again. Gail had her doubts that it would work again. She was unsure how much time passed, since she couldn’t see, but she was beginning to feel discouraged.
Suddenly her heart thumped as she felt that ‘tingle’ again. This time it was her hair, and it was like a light breeze was somehow blowing inside her room.
The ‘tingle’ stopped as her breath caught, but continued after she gently exhaled, relaxing. She seemed to remember that fairy creatures were very shy, and any attempt to see or catch them would be sure to chase them away.
With an act of will, she kept herself relaxed. It was happening, and sometimes you just had to trust. What must have been a fairly short time later, the ‘tingles’ ended.
Not wanting to spoil a good thing, Gail gave her unseen makeover artists a warning. “I think you’re finished now, so I’m going to open my eyes, Okay?”
Not getting a response, she dared a glance.
That woman in the mirror couldn’t be her! That hair was gorgeous! Much longer and fuller, the dark waves framed her face in just the right way. Both of her eyebrows, while not thin arches, were perfectly acceptable, and she hadn’t even felt any pain from plucking. When she touched her hair, to convince herself it was real, she stopped to stare at the beautiful ovals of her now manicured nails.
“Breathe honey, breathe,” she whispered in wonder. It was really her.
Gail blinked her long lashes, thinking furiously. The bowl of milk in front of her was drained dry. Making up her mind she said, aloud to her invisible benefactors, “Thank you so much! I’m going to leave pencil and paper here, so if you have any needs please let me know. A gift for a gift.”
“I’m going to my computer to see what else besides milk is good for you. Thank you again. I do hope we can do this again.”
A tug on her new locks proved that the sudden growth of hair was not only real, but all hers. No more male baldness for her.
A brilliant smile came to her lips. Magic was ‘real’! She didn’t have to struggle all alone with this any more. Gail had made some new friends.
Doctor Hanson, her therapist, was surprised when she arrived for her appointment, in all of her feminine glory. The Doctor had nothing, but compliments for Gail’s appearance, and remarked how much happier and more confident her patient was since their last visit. The shy, conflicted person, caught struggling against herself, had somehow blossomed.
When asked what had caused such a dramatic change, Gail just smiled, saying she had made some new friends with a talent for makeovers. She certainly couldn’t argue with the results. From her hair style, to the cute shoes her patient wore, it all seemed customized for her.
More than a little envious, Doctor Hanson had to ask, “Are they taking new customers?
Gail giggled. “Sorry Doctor, they don’t run a business and are really shy. It wasn’t because of money that they helped me. You could say they helped all because of a song…
Neither one of us knows just what it is, but she loves just like me!
Disclaimer: The song The Marvelous Toy was written, printed and recorded by Tom Paxton. However, the characters within this story is strictly a product of my imagination. I reserve all copyright to repost this story. Since it was finished at just seconds to Christmas Day 2011, I've only very roughly looked it over for errors. I ask that the dear readers here take it as a gift and in the spirit it was given.
I opened the drawer and pulled out the box with a sigh. This had been on my mind for a long while. Tom, my precious little boy, my beloved son, had always been different. Somber and quiet, he was so much like his mother, it hurt sometimes.
Unlike other boys, who were continuously getting into things and trouble, he was content to draw with his crayons or try to help out around the house. Mrs. McCullough, our housekeeper, tried to gently discourage him as he followed her about. Tom just gave her a sad smile that reminded me even more of his mother who was no longer with us and helped anyways.
Jill and I had met while both us were attending college. I suppose it was clichéd, but I never knew what she saw in me. The men of my family were had a reputation for being big healthy sorts, but unfortunately that didn’t translate well into attractiveness. I looked like some Mafia goon from the movies that’d been hit in the face one too many times and knew it.
Jill, however, with her classic Irish red locks and emerald eyes could’ve been a model or movie star. Instead she was majoring in sociology out to save world, but hooked up with me the engineer to be. From the very beginning of our relationship, I knew I was blessed,
By the time we graduated, we were inseparable and got married right out of school. When Tom came along, I think I was the happiest father in the world. Our son was still just a baby when it happened.
Jill was killed by a drunken driver, and then it was just the two of us. My job took up a lot of my time, but I always made time for him. Fortunately that same job paid well enough so that I could afford Mrs. McCullough. Maybe her title was housekeeper but she was really both of ours minder. However no matter how much she did taking care of Tom and my own time with him, there was this sadness about him.
Carefully, I took the cloth wrapped bundle out of its box, unwrapping it. Just the sight of it made me smile. I’d been about Tom’s age when my dad had passed this on to me, my marvelous toy.
Trying to describe it was difficult because it seemed to change each time you looked at it. First it was round, and then kind of oblong, but not really. The things that never went away were the two green buttons that reminded me of eyes.
While its appearance was fascinating, what really grabbed me was how it played with me. Yes, played with me, and not just me playing with it. The toy had the most outrageous timing buzzing, bobbing, and whirling, but it would also tease you, marching this way and that. Then it would dart away as if hiding, only to reappear behind you.
Its actions were entirely impossible, given it lacked batteries or even a winding key. That’s not counting the behavior which would out do anything the cutting edge robotics guys could come up with today, much less a toy that’s been passed down from father to son for a very long time. According to family tradition, passing down the toy started at least several great-greats ago.
The toy had sparked my interest in engineering, curious at how it worked. Nothing I learned explained how it did what it did despite sneaking it in to get x-rayed. It was just a dark blob, just as much a mystery as the day my father handed it to me.
Holding it in my hand now, I hoped that perhaps it could reach my son while I had failed. Oh, he loved me, and Tom knew I loved him, but there was still this, this … barrier between us. It was as if he had some secret he couldn’t bear to tell me or anyone.
What could be so terrible that it would effect him so? Tom was only five for goodness sakes!
Mrs. McCullough might’ve figured it out, but was hesitant to talk about it. When I ask her about it, she denied it. I was on my own with this one, and was missing my dear wife even more than normal.
Holding the gift I’d received from my Father so many years ago, I weighed my options. It’d been my dearest treasure for so long it was hard letting go of it. The memories and the inspiration it’d provided had shaped my life. Could I pass on this mysterious toy to the next generation, my son? Despite the unknowns over its origins I wasn’t concerned about it causing harm. It was my playmate and I trusted it.
Thinking about that thought I sat it down on my desk.
“What do you think?” I asked it. “Is it time?”
I pressed the green eye-like buttons.
Seconds later I was smiling at the antics of my marvelous treasure as it raced around my desk. It’d given me my answer. If it could still make me smile after all these years then it could do the same for my so sad son.
A few days later I was glad I’d waited till Christmas morning to give Tom his surprise. Between me, and all of our relatives he had plenty of gifts, but I could tell he was disappointed as he unwrapped each one, although he tried to hide it.
I still had no idea as to the cause or if he wanted something else instead of what he’d received, but I hoped my marvelous little toy could work a miracle.
After he’d opened all his gifts, I called him over to me.
“Tom,” I explained, “ When I was about your age my father gave this to me, and now I’m passing it on to you.”
Opening my hand, I revealed the treasure within.
It hurt, seeing him preparing for disappointment upon his face.
Even still, his eyes widened when, curious, he picked it up.
Stepping back with a smile, I remembered my own first explorations. Sure enough as he put it down the toy did its teasing dance. As it came out of hiding behind him, I saw the first smile I’d seen in a long time from my son.
Finally it was Mrs. McCullough calling us for Christmas breakfast that called us from playing with our Marvelous little toy. It did my heart good to see him wolf down his meal to get back to my gift. Finishing my own hearty breakfast, I breathed relived that my son Tom was back.
That feeling lasted a whole three hours.
“Papa, Nan-nan!” Tom ran into the kitchen. “It’s gone!” He cried happily confusing me.
“Your toy?” I asked befuddled knowing that it never ever got lost. That’s not even considering how joyous my son sang out his message.
“No, Papa, my thing. Finally, it’s gone!” Tom beamed.
Without further ado he dropped his drawers making it very clear as what thing he was talking about.
Poor Mrs. McCullough dropped the green bean casserole she’d just taken from the oven, and I like to choked on my coffee.
The next hour that passed was full of many thing but not a one of them were merry or joy. It was impossible. Boys did not change into girls, not like this anyways. However, I knew something else that was impossible didn't I, the Toy.
What had that thing done to my son? Anger burned within me. I wanted to take the biggest hammer I had to it.
A zip and bop announced its presence as it bumped into my shoe. A whirr followed as seemingly those big green button eyes looked up at mine.
An impulse filled me to stomp it flat for what it’d done, but I couldn’t resist following those green orbs as they looked at Tom.
Jill’s and my progeny sat smiling upon Mrs. McCullough’s lap. While the poor woman was obviously shocked, she held Tom as if to her very own child. The other fact that glared at me was the happiness that glowed within the girl seated there. A girl perhaps, but one that was anything but sad or brooding.
She was happy.
That girl looked up at me and a shadow of that sorrow flitted across her face.
“Is everything alright, Papa?” She asked.
I swallowed the lump that’d grown there. Opening my arms, I made myself smile despite the tears that threatened. I didn’t understand it, and never would. Whatever had happened, my child was happy again.
She jumped off Mrs. McCullough’s lap and ran into my arms. Pausing for half-second she scoop up the toy from the floor before nearly bowling me over.
“I love you, Papa,” she cried, holding me tight.
“And I love you too, my daughter,” I whispered back, still fighting my own tears.
A long timeless moment passed although I saw our beloved housekeeper and minder reaching for her own tissues.
Holding it up, my daughter asked.
“What is it Papa? What kind of toy is this?”
“Why it’s a Marvelous Toy,” I replied hugging her against me causing her to giggle.
Neither one of us knows just what it is, but she loves it just like me!
The song ‘The Marvelous Toy’ was written, printed and recorded by Tom Paxton.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLYefZkOMB0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing.
I hugged my worn jacket to me trying to fight off the blades of ice thrown with deadly accuracy by the frigid wind. The freezing air seemed to find every unprotected nook and cranny. At least the freezing rain had stopped before I'd finally decided I couldn't stand anymore and walked out of my family's Christmas celebration. However that still left the sleet and slushy snow falling from the heavy gray winter sky.
Every year was same and I never seemed to learned it wouldn't get better. Dearly wanting acceptance and love so much, but never finding any at all. Like always, my brother John, talked me into making the trip with him. He was one of the few I shared blood with that sorta kinda understood me and would usually give me the time of day. On the other hand I had to wonder if it was deliberate since everyone knew I enjoyed these occasions as much as I did visits to the dentist and other unpleasant experiences. However it meant I had no means of leaving on my own. A big disadvantage of growing up not only rural but very rural.
Ha, that was what they thought!
This year rather then put up with all the snide comments and humiliation, I had a secret. You see this past year had pushed me past all rational thought. I'd finally accepted who I was, but that came with the stark truth of just how much I'd screwed up my life. Now, middle aged with career prospects of between absolute zero, nil, and nonexistent, I just really didn't give a damn about much of anything.
So this year when the nasty whispers and snickers began about me being a failure, headcase and gay to boot, I simply picked up my jacket and walked out.
Sure it was nasty as hell outside, but it was still kinder than the people who called themselves my relatives. I suppose I'd bought some of it on me this year with my androgynous attire, but truthfully those bits of femininity were required for my sanity. They were important touchstones for my true self that let me function at all these days.
I'd wondered a time or two if I was some variety of intersexed since my general body-shape tended to be more like a dumpy overweight woman than an obese man regardless of what I had between my legs. It really didn't matter because I'd no medical insurance nor means of affording the tests it would take to say one way or the other.
In short, my life was in a hell of a mess and I didn't give a shit what anyone thought.
Which was why I was walking down the highway on Christmas Eve. It was only the afternoon but with the sky dark from the sleet and snow you would never know. The wintery assault caused me to even consider going back, but since no one appeared to notice I was gone, good riddance to them one and all!
Perhaps it was stupid, but it'd been that kind of year.
An eighteen wheeler thundered by drowning me in dirty freezing slush. I couldn't help, but look up at the gray overcast heavens wondering what was going to happen next. You would think with my life and luck I would know better.
Now I was wet as well as cold. It was seeping into everywhere that had up to now stayed more or less dry. What I wore wasn't designed for this kind of weather. I wasn't a fool. These were killing conditions. I was already thoroughly chilled and only a step or two away from hypothermia and serious trouble.
The problem was I didn't care. To have constant not-pain and endless discomfort finally end would a blessing. On the other hand I truly didn't want to die either. There were too much pain already in the world already to create more and as much as my family truly misunderstood me they would be hurt.
That's not even counting how much pain it might cause me.
An icy track crawled down my cheek. Even my tears were freezing along with my heart and soul.
Another truck blew by throwing up another blizzard of ice and snow behind it. All I could do was bow my head even lower to try and shield myself. The difference was the flash of red lights as it braked. Then a pair of white lights shined as it backed up.
A spark of hope glowed. Perhaps I wasn't going to die after all.
The red crew cab wasn't just big, it was huge. The thing had big knobby snow tires as well as having chrome and gold trimming on every surface. Though the fog of the twin tail pipes I read on the tailgate the gold cursive, 'Santa's Sleigh.' Even the Alaska license plate read, N. Pole. My wasn't he a long ways from home down here in the lower 48.
Who was this guy? Shivering, I shuffled as fast as I could to the open window. Beggars could not only not be choosers, but could freeze to death too.
Reaching the window, I had to climb up on the running board just to see inside. The moment I did, second thoughts came racing. Yeah, sure he was Santa. That's if the Jolly Old Fat Man had been a biker or perhaps a trucker from hell. Okay, he was dressed in the red Santa suit which always seemed kind of creepy to me. Maybe it was because of too many childhood visits to mall Santa's who were of dubious character.
Well, he did have the long white beard and hair too. Hell, he had the stocky build as well. What did not fit was the cigar wedged in one side of his mouth nor the tats on his knuckles. Even if they read NICE and I think before he ran out of fingers on the other because it said NAUG.
Did I mention 'Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer' was baring from the truck's speakers?
Alright, I've found the redneck Santa, oh joy.
“Kind of a chilly night to out walking isn't it?” He asked understating things a few thousand percent. “Need a ride?”
“Yeah,” I managed to say with my teeth nearly chattering.
The lock on the passenger door popped open.
Stumbling, over the icy ruts I got to the other side.
Using a part of my sleeve to protect my numb fingers, I got the door open and slid inside the toasty cab.
I will say this. Biker Santa or not, the inside of his truck was spotless except for the smell of the tobacco smoke. Excuse me, but I still had a sense of smell. On the other hand the heat blasting out of the vents was a godsend.
“There's a business area just up the road with a hotel and a restaurant although I don't know if it is still open this being Christmas Eve.” He said. “Oh by the way you can just call me Chris.”
“I'm Jess.” I said resisting the urge to make a Kris Kringle joke. “That will work.”
Hey, I had some cash, but this would probably wipe me out. However, to get away from that poisonous family gathering, I'd been ready to gnaw off a leg like a wolf caught in a trap.
Porky Pig singing I'll have a 'Blue Christmas Without You” came up next. Oh God shoot me now!
“Miss excuse me for say so, but I can see you're not in a good way.” He said sliding that damn cigar around in his mouth. “You see I'm on my way to a Christmas party, but my date stood me up. I was wondering if you would be willing to take her place. I swear there will be plenty of good food and drink, but while we might get a little rowdy, everyone will behave themselves. Believe me when I say we all know that no, means no.
Miss, me? My brain kinda froze even if the rest of me was thawing out in front of the truck's heater.
“Your clothes are soaked and I can see you shivering. If you don't catch a cold it won't be because of lack of trying. I even have a Mrs. Claus costume that goes with mine that a good friend got for me. It might not be that warm, but it will be dry. If you like, I think we can find a place where you won't be bothered if you want to sleep when it's over. So what do you say?
Okay I knew my body had a weird shape, and I even had breasts of a sort even if they were only a man's fat boobs. I'd also taken to wearing my hair long as another of my feminine touchstones, and my stocking cap probably covered my ever growing baldness, so I guess it was remotely possible I could mistaken as a woman.
In bad light, in the middle of blizzard, while dressed in soaking wet bulky clothes, check.
However, I didn't know who Chris really was nor any of the people at this party or if there really was a party. No one knew where I was, and if he meant me harm that would be bad.
“I'm not really a party kind of person,” I tried to bail out gracefully. “Besides I'm not an easy person to fit.” Making gestures with my hands I indicated my embarrassing under-tallness.
“That's alright,” He said jovially. “It's one size fits all. After all mine fit fine and I have a few pounds on you. Come on, it's Christmas Eve. This is one night that no one should be alone, Jess.”
Although my reasoning was sound for turning down Biker Santa's offer, I found myself nodding yes. Over the course of my life I'd made so many mistakes, my instincts weren't the most reliable decision making tool in the box.
“Good!” Chris grinned. “If you want you can crawl into the back and change now.”
He pointed out a privacy curtain that could separate the front from the back. “It won't be the first time someone has changed back there, nor slept back there either. The joys of spending so much time on the road.”
Now that I was no longer completely numb I was really feeling my wet clothes. Honestly I was a little concerned about making a mess too. It was a nice truck after all.
“Hmmm... I'm sorry about getting your seats all wet.” I apologized looking for the best way into the back.
“Think nothing of it.” He replied, patting the seat. “I practically live in my baby sometimes. I'll have the boys wipe down and detail her real good after the holidays. Giv'em an excuse to put more hours on the clock.”
Okay, redneck or biker Santa or not he had resources to take care of whatever mess I'd made. More than a little awkward, I half-fell/slipped into the back. Sitting up, I drew that curtain.
Then came the moment of truth. Was I really going to change clothes in the back of this guy's truck?
Away from the direct blast of the heater vents, I felt just how damn wet and cold my clothes were. I really didn't have a choice. Besides it was a Mrs. Claus costume. It probably had a long red skirt or dress with plenty of white trim. Heck, it probably had a granny's wig with it. The one size fit all thing kinda worried me, because that usually that meant any size but mine.
Taking off my dripping wet jacket I found I was warmer without it. Glancing at that curtain, as far as I could tell, I indeed had privacy from the front and the tinted windows were high and dark enough no one could easily see in.
Having a thought, I took the plastic clothing bag off Chris's costume and put my wet stuff on it on the floorboard.
“There's a towel in the pocket on the back of the passenger's seat.” He called out to me.
Sighing, I replied, “Thanks.” There was nothing left for me but to get this over with. It wasn't as if I had an aversion to women's things. Pretty things were about as addictive to me as living and breathing.
Stripping off the rest of my clothes I discovered to my relief I wouldn't have to go commando. My feminine panties were only a bit damp. Sniffing at that towel, it smelled mostly clean. Drying off, I investigated that costume.
I'd taken off the outer bag, but there was another protective wrapping about it too. The label read 'Mrs. Clause exclusively for SRU by Miss Chiff Studios.'
Never heard of them, but the rich velvet material looked positively sinful. I carefully made sure my hands were dry before touching it, Oooh!
Even as I marveled at the material, I was laughing silently at the misspelled label. Whatever or whoever SRU was if that hadn't been misspelled too obviously did their stocking from overseas. Of course I was guessing the misspelling was because of the English as a second language deal. On the other hand, with schools nowadays it might've been made right here in the states.
Wasn't the dress a little short, I wondered as I pulled out the set of fishnet stockings.
Oh crap.
By the time I got the bag unpacked , I knew my vision of a kindly Grandma like Mrs. Claus costume wasn't in the cards. Okay, it wasn't stripper Mrs. C either, but it sure as shooting was sexy.
Looking down at my obese strange body, I wondered just how the hell, anyone could expect me to pull this off.
However, looking down at my ruined clothes, I couldn't see that I had a choice, so reluctantly I got dressed. There was even this really lacy red pushup bra, that given the plunging neckline I almost had to wear. I was surprised that it pushed up my man-boobs so effectively, but I was also pleased.
It might only be an illusion, but I had cleavage! It was a good thing I was so careful about defoliating all of my unwanted body hair.
That nice feeling was spoiled by my next discovery. Those fishnets wasn't hose, they were stockings complete with garters and belt, eek! Sure I loved the girly stuff, but this was a bit out of my comfort zone. Wear this revealing sexy stuff in public? Double eek!
However, having anything on my legs with the cold was a good thing. So with a combination of embarrassing self-consciousness and feeling deliciously naughty, I struggled with making sure I avoided runs, hooking up garters and getting those damn lines straight.
On the seat was a long shoe box with a pair of black ankle boots with silver buckles, fuzzy white cuffs and topped with a red Christmas bow. It was love at first sight. I'll admit to having a thing for risque shoes and boots. These with their three inch heels and half-inch platforms were just perfect except for one problem, my big feet. My man's size tens translated into a woman's twelve. However try as I might I couldn't find the size of these things on the box or on the boots.
Prepared to be disappointed I slipped one on was surprised when they fitted like that proverbial glove. Happily I put the other on smiling as I arched my feet. No doubt they would be uncomfortable as all get out in no time at all, but oh my did they look good.
Very satisfied, I found another separate, small bag with a Santa hat with shoulder length red hair attached. Surprising, me again was the quality of this since it wasn't cheap costume poorly dyed fibers but actually looked like real red hair. Taking it out of the bag and inner net, I was able to put my own thinning, but longish hair up under the cap. Heck, it wasn't even too uncomfortable, and I must admit I did like the color. To look good I was more than willing to put with a good bit more than that. Just look at women's high heels to see the lengths we will go to for fashion.
Pulling on the red gloves,“I'm finished,” I announced to give him some warning before pulling that curtain back. As a recent pedestrian the last thing I wanted to do was startle the driver while on roads this treacherous.
“Come on back up.” He urged me. “We're almost there.”
Really conscious of flashing him in this short shirt, I carefully maneuvered myself over the seats, breathing out in relief as I fasten the seat-belt.
“Just where is this place? I grew up around here, but I don't recognize any of this.” I explained.
“It's in a warehouse district north of town.” Chris replied, chewing on his cigar. “The company has a huge bash every year for all their employees and families. It's about the only place big enough for everyone.”
Looking out the window trying to get the lay of the land, I was shocked. Where I'd been the wintery stuff had really just stared sticking good. That was where all that slush on the roads had come from which had soaked me. Here, everything was completely covered in white stuff and a lot of it. He couldn't have driven very far, but I couldn't ignore the proof of my eyes. This looked like a hell of a lot more than the several inches of snow the forecast called for!
“Wow.” I said. “It must really have snowed hard here. This is a lot more than the Weather Service said.”
“You always have to take what the talking heads say with a lot of salt.” Chris smiled around his stogie.
Not that I would've been walking very far in this outfit, but with weather like this I was going nowhere. Like it or not I was dependent on Chris's hospitality.
It was snowing hard enough that I was still lost, and I never even saw us passing though any gates. What am I talking about? I couldn't even see the road, but Chris kept us on course. There was no question we were at the right place.
With my employment challenged condition, I'd worked at plenty of warehouses. This one were the usual huge building with rolls of loading docks with trailers backed snugly against them.
What surprised me was this one was really big. I couldn't even count all the docks because they were lost from sight in the falling snow. Of course the reason this had to be right place was because of the Christmas lights. The whole place was lit up! Even the open bays were lined in lights with Christmas wreaths on the roll-up doors.
Why haven't I ever heard about this place? It must take a not so small fortune to light a place of this size up like this!
My questions were forestalled by Chris's opening the truck door for me like a true gentlemen. No one had never ever done that for me before. To be treated as a lady after the harassment from my so-called loved ones, had me nearly in tears.
Chris had discarded his cigar and had on his Santa jacket and hat. He never gave a sign he saw my eyes shining from the near tears. He simply held out his arm to help me out. Once he had my arm, he escorted me to the door guiding me across the snow and ice although most of the sidewalk had been cleared. I'd practiced wearing heels before, but never in public nor in the ice and snow.
My Gawd! It was cold. Sure I was in a little short nothing of a dress, but it felt even colder then when I was soaked though with icy slush. By the time we made it to the door I was wondering if I was going to have worry about hypothermia again. Not a single one of all the warehouses where I'd worked had ever been remotely climate controlled. Burning hot in the summers, and freezing cold in the winter were the sum of my experiences.
As Chris opened the door, the warm inviting air made me hurry inside. My eyes closed on their own as my shivering melted away.
Shutting the door behind him, he grinned. “You look really good Jess.”
I did not believe him. Old fat guy in a dress no matter how weirdly my body distributed the lard was still … well you know.
“You don't believe me?” Chris asked with his hands on his hips. “See for yourself.” He pointed at a mirror by the door that had a sign reminding the drivers to check their appearance since they were the only representatives their customers saw regularly.
Okay there was Chris really looking like Santa with his long white hair and beard. Whoever his friend was, this SRU person, they really got him one cool looking costume. What threw me as the woman standing next to him.
Like the Jolly, Old, Elf, Wanna-be, she had on a Santa suit, but one with a sexy above the knee red velvet skirt edged in fluffy white fur. The red fishnet stockings and the black ankle boots with their own white furry accents really set off her legs.
Afraid of what I would see, I looked further up.
The top of the dress's was also edged in fuzzy white that acted to tease of the cleavage promised by the plunging neckline. The long full sleeves and the red gloves with their own white accents made her arms and hand appear elegant. However the biggest shock was her face. The Santa hat with its white pom-pom was a jaunty angle atop the gorgeous red hair that famed her face.
I knew this had to be me, but the hair and cap hid my still bushy eyebrows no matter how much I plucked them. Even the obese roundness of my face was shaped by the fall of auburn in a more delicate heart shape. Even my nonexistent waist had gained the illusion of necking in by the fullness of the top and its fur, and the hem and its own white accents.
This was impossible!
But, there it was, or rather I should say there I was.
It was magic, ordinary magic which was nothing more than illusions. I'd given up on the magic from myths and fairy tales a long time ago. Too many nights wasted praying; too many Christmas's spent begging make believe characters; too many dreams stomped flat by an uncaring world.
The irony of having one of my oldest and dearest Christmas wishes come true in this roundabout and unexpected way bought me back to reality. Every Christmas I'd silently begged Santa to change me into a girl, because I didn't dare write it down. So here we are years later, far after I've given up believing in such things, and here I am a pretty girl or at least an illusion of one.
Okay, in my heart I've always been a girl, a woman, and even in my dreams a lady, but pretty? Sadly no.
Time for a reality check. I was warm in dry clothes. Chris had lived up to his word and we were at a Christmas party that had kids attending since I could hear high pitched laughter. That meant things wouldn't get too crazy and I had a reasonable amount of safety. Far better than freezing to death by the side of the road.
Chris was bouncing on his heels self-satisfied at the shock I had looking in the mirror.
“Hey Chris. Thought you told me Carol stood you up?” A woman dressed all in white with a crystal circlet about her head asked.
“She did Jadis.” He answered. “Let me introduce Jess.”
“Hello,” The woman in white smiled. “I'm the force of nature that keeps this old coot and enterprise going.”
“Hi, I'm Jess.” I asked. “Administration?”
“You got it in one.” She said still smiling at me, but then frowned. “What did you do Chris?” Jadis questioned him sharply. “Shanghai her off the street?”
Wilting under her icy glare, Chris mumbled, “It wasn't exactly like that.”
“I was walking along the highway and freezing when Chris picked me up.” My face turned a little red defending him.
“What she said!” Trucker Santa replied grateful for the reprieve.
“You made her change in the back of that truck of yours?” Jadis asked in shocked disbelief.
“She was soaked to the skin.” Chris said holding up his hands as a shield.
“Really” I spoke up. “I know this doesn't cover very much, but it is dry.”
It was becoming clear how a woman rode herd on a character like Chris. Jadis with her aristocratic looks and manner was extremely formidable.
“You poor dear!” She took my arm. “Don't worry, we'll take care of you.”
Chris shrugged helplessly as she lead me away.
“You don't have any makeup with you?” Jadis asked as her eyes searched me for a purse.
The safest answer seemed just to nod. Of course I didn't have a purse and this outfit didn't have room to hide a damn thing.
“Chris,” Jadis called back to him. “Pull out one of those makeup gift sets from stock and mark it as damaged on the inventory.”
Before I knew it I was in one of the offices and surrounded by ladies intent on making me welcome. So many were introduced to me, I was in people overload. I lost track of who was who after about the tenth person or so.
“This is Wendy.” A redheaded woman was introduced to me. She had all the signs of being a natural redhead like me or perhaps I should say like I was before age and baldness set in. She was also dressed in a rather elaborate old fashioned nightgown that I guessed was a costume.
“Can you help her?” Jadis asked the other woman. “This is Jess. Chris just about kidnapped her off the street. You both being redheads, I thought of you. I have him fetching a makeup set from our damaged merchandise. She added making ditto marks with her fingers.”
I was about to protest again that it wasn't like that when Wendy's name and costume suddenly gelled in my mind.
“Of course I can. That Chris!” She rolled her eyes smiling at me. “You're a classic autumn and your hazel eyes are just like mine. That set should have everything we need.”
“You're supposed to be Wendy, like out of Peter Pan?” I asked.
“Can you think of a better person to be with all of these Lost Boys working around here?” Her smile turned into a grin. “I don't think any of them have ever really grown up!”
“So this is some kind of Christmas Costume Party?” I asked hesitantly trying not to make myself look like a fool. The idea seemed kinda strange to me even though dressing up this time of year wasn't uncommon. However, being honest, I wasn't the most social person in the world. Too many bumps, scrapes and close calls had made me reluctant to trust easily many groups where all too often I felt out of place.
“Oh, Chris didn't tell you anything did he!” Wendy laughed as she was handed one of those facial cleaner wipes.
“Just that he was on the way to a Christmas party and that he'd been stood up.” I replied. “I really didn't think much about him being in costume or his having a Mrs. Claus outfit to match his. My own clothes were so soaked, so I was simply happy to get into anything dry!”
Dean Martin's version of 'It's Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas' started playing from the speakers.
“Chris doesn't have a choice but to put on the Santa suit this time of year.” She giggled. “He declared that if he had to dress up then so did everyone else.”
In the background, I heard Chris announce he'd returned, but the girls stopped him at the door. Wendy had cleaned my face and in no time at all was busy applying the creams and colors. All about us there was laughter and good cheer as the ladies chatted and gossiped.
There were also a lot of kids about too dressed as elves. There was something about them that just didn't seem right, but I really didn't get to look too close at them with Wendy working on my face. Besides, it was so nice to be warm and immersed in the friendly gaggle of feminine companionship I really wasn't paying that much attention.
“There Dear.” Wendy stepped back looking at her work and handing me a mirror.
I had few illusions about my femininity. Sure I had a hybrid body-shape, and I had to grudgingly admit this costume must have been designed by a genius to give me of all people a pleasing silhouette. However, my face? No matter how that Santa hat and hair softened my mug's appearance there was only so much mere mortals could do. Let's say I was prepared for the worst.
'You silly Witch!' I berated myself silently. 'Don't you dare cry and ruin Wendy's miracle!'
The redhead in the mirror just couldn't be me. She was at least ten years younger and had no signs of testosterone poisoning. Her red lips and golden eye makeup subtly complimented the costume and made the gold flecks in my hazel eyes really glitter.
“I thinks she likes it!” Jadis and Wendy grinned.
In answer all I could do was hug them while fighting the tears.
However just to prove that any sensitive emotional moment could be ruin by your usual bodily functions, my stomach rumbled enough to be heard over the Micheal Jackson and the Jackson Five's version of “I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” that had just began playing.
Amid giggles and friendly laughs, I was led to the buffet table.
Once more I had an eye opening moment. Chris or whoever ran this joint really knew how to set a table. Forget those little things on toothpicks. There were full hams and turkeys as well as just about any side you could think of, a real Christmas Feast. Never had I seen anything like this at any of the places I'd ever worked. At most, a potluck party with the boss picking up the cost for the ham was my experience. Remembering, I'd done without dinner and now it was suppertime, plus I'd been out in the freezing cold for hours, I was very hungry.
Apparently my hitting the buffet was a good excuse that it was time for the other ladies too. Before long there was a merry line of us picking and choosing the choicest bits. It was something totally new to me. When guys hit a buffet its like a pack of ravenous wolves going for the throat of the bloodiest piece of flesh and woe to the fool who contests the Alpha male rights.
The Ladies were much more social offering suggestions of what to try as well as chatting merrily the whole time. There was none of that silence while loading your plate as if wary of frightening the food away. Frankly, I found the entire experience very relaxing.
Sitting down and eating those first bites proved the food tasted as good as it looked. Of course there was always the thing that being hungry makes anything and everything tastes better. Just as good was the small talk with Jadis, Wendy and the others. Never once did I feel like the outsider. That cozy feeling was as nice as the wonderfully warm room.
Having a chance to look around as I ate, it was really something else. Garlands, Christmas lights and other decorations hung from trusses high above with a huge Christmas tree as the center piece. Mounds of gifts surrounded the lavishly adorned tree. Besides trees meant for public displays like the one in front of the State House or the one I'd seen on TV at the Rockefeller Center in NYC, I'd never seen anything like it. Yes, it was that big! It was a good thing warehouses tended to have extremely high ceilings. Otherwise they would've had to cut a hole in the roof to make room for that searchlight they were using for a star on top. Okay, an exaggeration, but only a little. I did have to shade my eyes because the star was so bright.
Looking away from that over enthusiastic tree topper, I saw Chris. He was holding court within a circle of guys. Strangely enough there a few of those kids dressed as elves too. Usually the kids hang near the moms and the ladies. I started to wonder just where all of these rug rats came from when Chris caught me looking at him.
His grin as he excused himself from his court and swaggered over could've been annoying, but instead I had to lock down the giggles. It was so much an intentional exaggeration he was clearly making fun of himself.
Jadis rolled her eyes as Wendy giggled when they saw him hamming it up.
“Here comes your date.” The Winter Queen remarked dryly.
“Like I said,” Wendy smiled. “Lost boys, He's never going to grow up! Although he's certainly making a good effort at growing out!” She giggled again referring to his Santa belly.
“And I thought you were referring to his ego.” Jadis took a sip of her wine.
At my wondering glance, she relented. “Alright, I guess he's not that bad. Perhaps it's that Lost Boy thing of Wendy's that brothers me. You have to excuse me girls. I like real men.” She said with one arched eyebrow which had all of us laughing.
“Am I interrupting anything ladies?” Chris asked totally clueless.
That set us all off again. I managed not to embarrass myself by spitting up food or snorting drink up my nose, but it was a near thing. I'd been finished anyways letting the ladies about me chatter away while I ate. The only concession was I at least tried to be dainty about it, but hunger has an urgency all of its own.
I'd stuck with soda pop and avoided the both the wine and the bubbly most of the other ladies had gone for. With all of my issues I could see myself falling into serious trouble with alcohol. Too many of those I'd contact though the internet had tried self-medication with that as well as other more destructive substances. I had enough problems as it was without adding more so when I drank at all it was with great caution. If there was any benefit at all to be down at the bottom, it was the first hand experience of seeing just how many ways and how badly people could mess up their lives. I took what comfort I could in at least it was my gender thing that had dragged me down instead of just plain old fashioned stupidity.
Perhaps I hadn't handled that very well either, but not many do. Still it was my life and my responsibility despite any additional challenges. I was reasonably healthy and was mostly physically functional. It was the mental stuff that gave me fits. With my gender problems and the accompanying depression, trying to overcome it was a lot like trying to lift yourself into the air.
The problem was it was all in my head and invisible to the world at large. Seeking help was socially discouraged as well as expensive. For too many of those in the same boat as me, it was suffer until you were ready to end it all before looking for some way of making the discomfort that had turned to hurt long ago, end. If they were lucky it was help, but for others it was the final solution.
So in short, no booze for me!
It was fated as I got up to join him that the first thing Chris asked, “Can I get you a drink?”
I was about to fib a bit and say I didn't drink at all when he added, “How about one of those fruity things you girls like so much?”
Honestly it was his referring to me as a girl that made me weaken rather than his boyish and charming desire to please me. This last hour or so of acceptance by those I'd always felt were my true peers were priceless. For such a gift, I was willing spread a bit of good feelings about.
“Okay, but a virgin daiquiri, mind you!” I relented still trying to avoid the liquor. Heck, I was still adapting to just how big a thing this was, the huge buffet and a wet bar?
He raised his eyebrows like a high schooler thinking naughty thoughts at the word 'virgin.'
“Oh you!” I gave him a push. “Go get my drink!”
The way he hurried away, I could easily see him as a young kid walking atop a fence or doing some other stupid thing trying to impress a girl.
Jadis mouthed, “I told you so.” Then she, Wendy and the rest of the ladies just laughed like crazy.
By the time he returned, I was wondering if I'd fallen though Alice's looking glass. I'd gone from being harassed by my so-called loved ones this morning to not only dressed, but treated as an attractive woman. It wouldn't surprise me if I was really back by the side of the road passed out from the cold. Certainly this seemed all too much like a dream, but pinching my arm said differently.
So like the little girl that'd hidden within my heart for so very long she whispered in disbelief, “This can't be real,” but it was.
Taking my drink from him, I ruefully thought that I knew how Cinderella felt at the ball. End of the party or when the clock strikes midnight, bye bye, sweet prince and hello the harsh reality of a fat old man who farts too much.
At my rope's end before the aforesaid gaseous man had probably saved my life by stopping for a stranger on a snowy country road, I decided to make the most of this night. Who knows. It was Christmas Eve and magical things were said to be possible. If nothing else I would have the memories of this night to comfort me in the no doubt lonely ones yet to come.
“Thanks Chris.” I said, trying to be graceful.
“My Pleasure, Jess.” He returned my smile. “Please free to indulge in our bar if you like. I guarantee that you're safe here. If anyone tried anything ...”
“Jadis would have parts of their anatomy for garters?” I finished for him.
“And that would be only the beginning!” Laughing, he agreed offering me his arm.
Taking it, I let him led us back to his circle of admirers where once again I ended up in name overload again as he introduced everyone. I simply smiled doing my best to enjoy the attention and act lady like. Since apparently through an act of God I was physically passing as a natural woman tonight, I was more concerned that my actions would give me away. Not that a part of me was still kinda freaking out about of that part but because I'd decided, like I said before, to make the best of this while it lasted.
Despite that I was surprised when I actually began enjoying this. Saying I was going to make the best of things and doing it were two different things. However, just hanging out and most of all being treated as I'd always seen myself, stomped all over the barriers I'd had up for so long to isolate and so protect myself.
Some of it was the outrageous things Chris bragged about. Okay, I could buy this company helping out during disasters even those overseas. From the size of this warehouse this company almost had to be multinational. It was a given that it would be good press and perhaps all a tax write-off for them to do the charitable thing during emergencies and other catastrophes.
However, I might be an American infamous for our lack of knowledge of the rest of the world, but even I knew you couldn't drive a truck to Japan much less to Haiti. On the other hand some of the things he mentioned about delivering supplies to places like Afghanistan and others that not so nice things were common place. While he told the funny things it was more the things he didn't say that told the real story.
My military time had been long ago and during the Reagan years. Turbulent as those times might've been it'd also been mostly peaceful from a soldier’s point of view. The only outright military action had been Grenada Island, and I'd gotten out before Panama. It had brought me into contact with those who had seen the 'Elephant' to use the old style term and they'd been just like Chris. While they might've talked about some of their experiences there was much more that stayed unsaid.
I decided that he was just what he seemed. One of those real 'characters' you meet sometimes that could tell real tall tales that had a kernel of truth, but had a healthy helping of playful exaggeration.
Breaking in I asked, just what this company was and I'd gotten a roundabout answer.
“The Company got its start back in the old country with holiday gifts. In those days we did the manufacture as well as the shipping and delivery. As times changed we specialized in what we do best, the shipping and delivery. With holiday demands so high it was simply easier and made more sense to let others handle the fabrication end.”
I never did learn the name of this place that night, but admittedly I found myself going even further and relaxing enough so I accepted some wine. I did become momentarily suspicious when I saw Chris wasn't imbibing, but he gave a reasonable explanation.
“I'm leaving out with a load tonight so no drinking for me.” He grinned, “I've already cleared it with Jadis so her or one of the other ladies up front will have a warm place for you to sleep.”
Then more gently, just for my ears he continued. “Have no fear, Jess. I made a promise and I'm a man of my word.”
Not able to help myself I gave the big lug a hug. The girl in me demanded it. Having any person much less a man willing to do that 'you're a woman to be protected' thing made me gushy as a teenager.
As the late afternoon turned into evening, I admit I might've indulge a little too much wine and that fruity stuff as Chris called it. By that time you might think that the party would be winding down as everyone departed for to make their own Christmas Eve preparations, especially with all the kids about. I fondly remember catching my own parents in the middle of gift assembly one long Christmas, and I couldn't imagine things had changed that much even with all the electronic do-dads.
Instead things seemed to build, the excitement reaching levels like I'd never seen before outside of the odd rock concerts I'd been too until one of the kids came up to Chris.
Maybe it was just my being so tipsy, but I really looked at the person in the elf costume carrying a clipboard. It was as if when I was expecting to see a child that was what I saw. Now that I simply looking I saw something or maybe that should be someone else.
They were still dressed as an elf, but most certainly wasn't a child. This was a small adult with most realistic elf makeup I'd ever seen. The thought that it could just possibly not be special effects almost reached me from my hind brain when another distraction occurred. Hey, I was tipsy, remember!
Chris with great drama put on his Santa hat slinging the pom-pom end over his shoulder.
The cheers rattled even that huge building.
Rolling his eyes the, err, person with the clip board with tremendous aplomb led the way to the only dock with an open loading bay door. I kinda got dragged along as my brains were trying to process all of this.
Startled I needed Chris's help to steady me as we suddenly stopped. I was looking around trying to see what was going on, as our small guide pointed up. Both Chris and I gave each other this well, look, as we saw the mistletoe.
The crowd were all staring at us expectantly. I caught Jadis's eye from the gathering. Somehow I got the feeling she was telling me to be careful. Turning, I found Chris staring right back at me.
“Did you read the label?” He asked, his voice somehow carrying to only my ears.
Remembering the clothing tag about that SRU and Miss Chievious thing I nodded, “Yes.”
“Are you certain this is what you want?” His arms wrapped around my waist.
For some reason the song, 'I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus' began singing in my head as I parted my lips for a kiss.
Okay maybe I was drunk, and my experience with kissing was damn limited, but if my toes didn't curl up I couldn't tell you why.
Just Wow!
I think the howls and cheers were what made us break for air. Our on lookers were loud!
Like a captain preparing to board his vessel for an epic voyage, Chris stepped forward to inspect his load with the, err, elf at his side.
My eyes boggled as I realized the inside of the trailer just went on and on like that picture from Raiders of the Lost Ark's warehouse. Blinking, I knew my eyes had to be fooling me. No trailer was that big!
It was only then that I noticed it was Jadis, Chris had handed me off to. If not for her I think I would've fallen face first right there.
Apparently satisfied, Chris took the clipboard and with a great flourished signed it. The truck pulled forward as Chris, surprisingly agile, slung himself out the cargo bay to the snowy ground.
Closing the trailer's doors, he waved as he marched to the cab of the truck outfitted much like the pickup truck he'd picked me up in. Red and gold, covered in Christmas lights, sparks flew from its exhaust stacks as it slowly left the dock which caused the crowd to cheer yet again.
Then I watched the brightly lit trailer climb high into the Christmas night sky its red tail lights lost among the stars.
“Oh no.” Jadis remarked as I fainted.
Waking up can always be problematic for me. Since I was a tiny kid, I'd very vivid dreams that were hard to separate from reality at times. I had a terrible time as a bed-wetter because I used to dream I'd actually gotten up and was in the bathroom. It was the alarming warm wetness that alerted me I'd made a mistake.
This morning it was the opposite.
The bed I was in was toasty warm and sinfully soft. That was totally different from my bargain store mattress and hole in the wall apartment that I kept barely warm enough to be livable because I couldn't afford a high utility bill.
I felt thick long hair pulling slightly as I laid on it as well as the silky feel of sensual nightwear. All of me felt so very right, that this just had to be a dream. On the other hand, my mouth definitely tasted as if I really had over indulged and my bladder was informing that unless I wanted to repeat my terribly embarrassing childhood 'accidents' I needed to get up right now.
The sense this was too good to be true continued as I climbed out of bed. My flabby man-boobs actually had some bounce as well as the crowning touches looking like well, real nipples and not a guy's pale blots. Pushing myself up, I even had a nice waist and not a belly hiding my feet from me.
No, no, no this was a dream even if it was so very nice. Something was going to wake me up and this would all disappear leaving only bitter disappointment.
My unwanted visitor who'd stayed way too long, Mr Winky, was gone leaving the 'front room' as uncluttered as it was supposed to be. Okay, most definitely a dream. Releasing and letting go was a little disturbing, because I didn't feel the spreading warmth of an accident. That was still alright.
Maybe instead of dreaming I got up to used the facilities, I was only dreaming about having to use to the water closet.
Then Chris walked in.
He was still dressed in the pants of his Santa suit and some kind of undershirt. His tiredness was plain and so was his surprise at seeing me here.
I'm not sure what happen first next. My screaming or his hurried retreat shutting the door behind him. The following shouting and yelling made little sense and I think it was mostly me freaking way, way out that although I'd gotten my life long wish, the very fact I'd received my fondest desire had me in hysterics. All part of that wanting is one thing, but receiving is another.
If I had to be entirely truthful most of the rants was from me. Chris's bellowing in a useless attempt to calm me only fueled the fire so to speak.
It wasn't until the elf, err person, who'd done that whole clipboard warehouse manager thing stepped that I, ah, we, were able to calm ourselves.
“My Lady, I'm Bernard.” He introduced himself. “In order to preserve what little peace we have on Christmas Day I'm here to mediate this misunderstanding. However, first I need to ask you to please come out of the bathroom. Here is a robe.
From the other side of the bathroom door, I squeaked, reaching for it. “Okay.”
Wrapping the thick soft red robe about me, I cautiously opened the door. Right at this moment the fact I was really truly a woman and they were guys was uppermost on my thoughts.
Bernard was still in his elf suit and Chris was still about half undressed. Now that I was truly awake and not thinking I was dreaming, I could see this was a very nice if a rather male bedroom. It lacked any cozy feminine touches although it was quite clean and well kept.
A window looking out onto the winter decorated land. Long icicles like out of some TV Christmas special edged the top, but was far out of the normal for the part of the South where I grew up.
“Very good,” He replied. “First did you of your own free will put on the Mrs. Santa costume?”
“Yes.” I answered not sure where this was going, but still distracted by the Winter Wonderland outside. Something just wasn't right about all this above and beyond finding myself magically transformed into a woman.
“Next, did you or did you not kiss Santa, hmmm, Kris under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve?”Bernard inquired.
“I was little tipsy, but yes.” Grudgingly I admitted to the deed, trying to judge just how much snow had come down last night.
“Congratulations!” He forcefully declared. “By donning the costume and sealing the contract with a kiss under the mistletoe constitutes acceptance of all of the conditions. May the two of you be very happy. Now, I'm going back to bed!”
“Congratulations?” I asked confused. “What is he talking about?”
“I thought you said you read the clothing label?” Chris sounded really put out.
Miffed, I replied, “I did. It said it came from some SRU place.”
“Not that label. This one.” Chris handed me the Christmas costume I'd put on the day before.
The label he had revealed was the manufacturer’s information and clothing care tag that like most woman's clothing was on the seam rather than like a man's on the collar. However this one had some additions to the washing instructions.
I the wearer acknowledge that by putting on this Mrs. Claus costume constitutes full awareness of acceptance of the position of which this clothing is the symbol. By knowingly performing an act of intimacy under the specific conditions of under the mistletoe on the day most associated with that of the Principle Party, Christmas Eve, the wearer hereby accepts the position as indicated by the garment.
Did I say it was in itsy bitsy type?
The world kind spun around me. Chris looking so much like Santa Claus. The huge warehouse I'd never heard of before. The very unfamiliar and snowy environment instead of the one I'd been expecting. The lights on Chris's truck as it climbed into the Christmas sky.
And lastly my turning into a woman because of wearing a Mrs. Claus costume.
As if from a long way away I heard myself ask, “Chris where are we?”
“The North Pole.” He mumbled.
“You don't just look like Santa do you?” I continued trying not to pass out again.
“No.” He said, softly
Without a word I walked out. If there were roads and trucks there was a way back to civilization.
An half hour later, I found myself just where I'd begun. No matter what doors I tried, I always ended up stepping back into Chris's bedroom as if I was trapped in some kind of gayly decorated tesseract.
Frustrated, I sat down beside Chris.
“I can't leave can I?” My frown said it all.
“It's the magic.” He explained. “As far as it's concerned we're Mr. and Mrs. Claus. However, I can assure you I will not and never will presume anything that's not what you clearly and plainly want. I thought you understood what you were letting yourself in for.”
I just sat there. Part of me felt like I'd been tricked into this while another could see where the misunderstanding had taken place. On one hand, he had rescued me from freezing by the side of the road, but he'd also not told me about the consequences of accepting his offer of dry clothes. That was besides transporting me all the way to the North Pole when he'd told me we were only going to the edge of town.
Sighing, I wouldn't have believed him even if he had although if he'd let on about being magically transformed into a healthy attractive woman there was a good chance I would've gone for it anyways. Yes, I was that desperate.
Thinking about a movie that was a lot like my current situation, I asked, “I take it that you weren't always like this?”
“No, it's more a job position than a specific person.” He chuckle a little sadly. “I got roped into this entirely unwanted, but I've always been big on helping others. Putting on the red suit lets me do that. The problem is part of this suit's clause requires me to find a Mrs. Claus. I went to a friend who is a real wizard to help me find someone who really truly wanted the position and he gave me your costume.
“The first person it lead me to, changed their minds at the last instant, and then I found you needing help. I should've remembered that it can be tricky dealing with magic and the fact my friend, the wizard, has a very strange sense of humor.” He sighed.
“So where do we go from here?” I couldn't help but to sigh too.
“Well,” He began, “You seem to like me and I like you. Why don't we start there?”
“You mean the whole dating and getting to know each other thing?” I asked wondering at just how much this magic was going to push matters.
“Why not?” He answered. “If it doesn't work out between us then we can find someone else who really wants this and give them the costume next year. It's not as if the magic isn't going to force us to stay close anyways. Better to make the best of things.”
I thought about a moment. “Alright, you have a deal. So what are we going to do about sleeping arrangements?”
Spring Equinox:
“Is it safe to go back in?” Chris asked.
“Not till she's run out of things to throw.” Bernard answered, ducking as a bottle bounced off the door frame.
Summer Solstice:
Together, we sat on the beach.
“It's beautiful Chris.” I held his hand as we watched the sunset together even if I had to shield my eyes from his way too loud Hawaiian shirt instead of the sun.
Sighing, I leaned against him enjoying his solidity as day turned into night, for all his faults just sometimes he did get it right.
Fall Equinox:
“Where is he?” I demanded
“Running for the backdoor if he has any sense.” Jadis answered taking measure of my temper. “Just what has he done now?”
“You don't want to know!” I stormed out with blood in my eye.
“You go girl!” Wendy giggled encouragement.
Winter Solstice:
“Oh Chris!” I stared down at the big bearded man down on one knee and the ring he held out for me.
Everything glowed though the happy tears stinging my eyes.
For my answer to his question I held out my hand.
Christmas Eve:
The whole party broke into cheers as we stopped under the mistletoe.
I didn't give him the chance to ruin the moment causing more cheers and a good deal of laughter as I kissed him.
Out of sight of the kissing couple an unlikely pair of wallflowers lounged on the edge of the festivities.
“She'll never give him a moment of peace!” The slim woman chortled pleased with herself.
“And he'll love every second of it.” The old man in the bathrobe grinned.
Discretely they slapped each other a high five.
Both of them laughed as Jess climbed into Santa's rig much to his dismay. It was clear this Mrs. Claus was not the stay at home type.
“So which holiday do you propose we play match maker for next?” The Wizard asked taking a drink of his punch.
“I have some thoughts,” The clothing designer smile mysteriously. “But I'm more interested in hearing your ideas.”
“Are you really?” The old man raised an eyebrow.
His reply was lost in the air horn blasts as Santa leaned out of his big rig.
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Barry is about get a Halloween Trick or Treater, that he'll never forget, as a Princess makes her three wishes.
This is my first story, and since I had to do the best I could editing it, be aware I know of the bad grammar, and spelling mistakes. I wrote this for Sapphire’s Halloween contest, and I am reposting it here. This story does feature TG themes and if that offends you, please don’t read any further. Warm and fuzzy thanks to Angle O’Hare and Karen Page for their kind help and assistance in editing. Warning: novice writer, read at your own risk!
Barry set the bowl of Halloween treats down by the door, and turned on the outside porch light. He was thinking that this year’s Trick or Treaters would have slim pickings at his house this year.
This year because he wasn’t able to afford much, save for a generic bag of mixed candies, he was unemployed with no prospects. Not that it would be a problem, he had rarely had any ghouls, goblins or even a witch come by his door, in the past. He was a single older man living by himself and he guessed he was regarded with some suspicion by his neighbors.
Barry had inherited his home, after his parents had died years before, but a developer had come in and renovated most of the other homes in the neighborhood making them attractive to younger couples with children.
He had found himself an older man surrounded by younger families, but Barry hadn’t a problem with that. He’d always loved children and enjoyed having them around. The problem was Barry had a secret. He’d spent most of his life working in warehouses and trucking depots. It was demanding physical labor and he developed an impressive muscular body that any man would be proud of. That is almost any man, but Barry.
Barry looked in the hallway mirror running his large hands through his thinning red hair and sighed at the sad green-eyed man reflected within. In his youth he’d accepted his fate of being different from everyone else, but only time could teach him why.
Perhaps he’d known all along, but lied to himself about it. Gazing into the mirror at himself, he imagined instead, a slim beautiful woman with thick red hair and smiling green eyes, and not the so sad ones, that looked back at him. Turning his back on the mirror and the dream, Barry shuffled back to his easy chair and the book he was reading. He knew how expensive SRS was and even if he sold the house, it would barely cover all of the expenses.
No, the biggest reason was fear, fear that even if he did have the surgery, people would still know that he had once been a man. His dream was an impossible one, for even the best surgeons could give one only the appearance of womanhood, not the ability to have children as a woman. If he couldn’t pass as a woman, then all chances of succeeding, with the difficult adoption process was gone, and that was without considering that he was unemployed, and if he sold the house to pay for the surgery, he wouldn’t even have a home.
This all meant that his dream was impossible. Barry took the only escape that was left to him, and lost himself in the pages of his book, comforted by a favorite author’s vision of adventure and transformation in a world far, far away.
Barry’s adventure was interrupted by the doorbell. He rose eagerly to his feet with a smile thinking “Ah Ha! The first catch of the day!” Barry chuckled to himself that he’d watched way too much Sci-Fi, but couldn’t help himself because they had such great quotes. Mumbling to himself about apologies and Captain Neda, he hurried to the door.
He was more than half-afraid, that it would be a false alarm and it would be just one more lost pizza delivery boy looking for directions. Barry was delighted to find a princess instead, complete with an obviously self-decorated paper grocery bag for her treats. She was wearing a very detailed princess dress complete with tiara about her blondish brown hair, and she looked to be 6 or 7 years old. Nervously she stammered out “Trick or Treat!”
Barry replied with a smile as he reached for his bowl of treats, “I think I‘ll chose treat.” The little princess lost her nervousness as she reached for the candy treats. He looked around and didn’t see a parent with her anywhere about, and she was too young to be out by herself without even some other children with her. Kneeling to eye level with her because he didn’t want to scare her, Barry asked, “Where is your mother, princess? You’re not out by yourself are you?”
Surprisingly, she looked into his eyes rather than away, as if searching for something known only to her. She said softly, “No, my mother ran away, so it’s just my dad and me.”
Barry was startled at her honesty, and that she would tell such a thing to a stranger, but seeing the pain in her gray eyes, he knew she was trying to deal with a lot of hurt. “Princess,” he said quietly her, “Your father doesn’t know you’re trick or treating does he? Don’t you think he’ll be worried about you?”
She gave a solemn nod to his first question and said, “My dad is at home getting ready for a party I talked him into, but he doesn’t know I’m out tonight. I’m older than I look and I’m not really a princess. You see I’m really a boy. That’s alright isn’t it, because it’s Halloween?” The princess gave me another searching look and spoke with a soft misery, “You understand don’t you?”
Barry had looked forward to tonight because it would let him indulge in the maternal side of himself safely, without revealing the secret that he hid even from himself sometimes. The fate that had brought the Princess to his door proved that God had a very peculiar sense of humor. Tonight was Halloween, and if he wanted to be a princess, then so be it. Barry didn’t think that the Princess was much older than seven maybe eight years old and that was still too young to be out alone at this time of night for any girl or boy.
Barry told her, “Tonight is Halloween and you can be anyone you want to be, but no matter who you are, you are still too young to be out by yourself. Can I get you to call your dad, and let him know that you’re Okay?”
“I can’t,” she said, “He has been so sad since Mom left us, and this will be the first time he has gone out since then.”
“Well,” Barry said, “I will have to walk you home then.” He held up his hand to forestall any arguments, and went to his hallway closet to grab a light jacket to wear over his t-shirt.
She looked up at him as he returned and asked, “Since tonight is Halloween, will you be my mother?” The Princess giggled at the expression on Barry’s face and said, “I have a Dad already. It’s a Mom, I need now.” With a worried look she asked, “It is alright isn’t it?”
Trying to recover his self-control, Barry felt a torrent of emotion rushing through him. With every bit of control he had, he kept from slamming the door shut and denying what he heard. It was her gray eyes looking so deeply into his that prevented that. She was so young to have known such hurt already, and if she were a princess inside, that pain would only be the beginning. They both deserved a happy night, him, because of all the pain from the past, and her for all of the hurt that was to come.
Barry grinned, he hoped optimistically, and said, “It’s Halloween, and we can be anyone we want to be. Yes, I’ll be your Mom for tonight.”
The Princess squealed in joy and grabbed him in a hug, which he gently returned. She reached for his hand and started pulling him down the drive to the sidewalk.
He was very self-conscious of how strange this Halloween was becoming, and more than a little concerned, that some well-meaning citizen would think he was a molester trying to take advantage of the Princess. Barry took a deep breath, and strengthened his resolve to do what he could to bring good memories of this Halloween for the Princess to keep. As he and she walked down the sidewalk, towards her house, he noticed how the streetlights made the Princess’s hair look almost red, which was strange because they usually washed out colors.
They had come about a half a block, when the Princess said, “Mommy you don’t have a costume,” while pointing at some mothers in costume on the other side of the street.
“Don’t point Princess, that’s rude,” Barry, said, “Since I’m a make-believe mom, I have a make-believe costume.”
The Princess giggled and said, “Okay, what kind of costume are we make-believing?”
Thinking of the sexy witch’s costumes that Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock wore at the end of “A Practical Magic” Barry said, “Well, how about a pretty witch as the mother of a beautiful princess, Princess?”
“No,” she pouted as she shook her now reddish locks. You have to be beautiful too, a beautiful witch mommy, and a beautiful princess daughter.
“Okay,” Barry laughed, “You talked me into it!” They had finally made it down the first block, and he was wondering just how far she lived from him. As they crossed the street, the Princess saw a group of kids her size going to Trick or Treat at the next house. When she looked up at him, he knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t in him to say no.
“Okay, but just this one,” he said, but she was already gone in a fuffy storm of petticoats. He watched from a distance as she waited her turn, and returned. Barry did think it weird that none of the mothers standing near seemed to react, as if there was anything wrong with him walking with the Princess. He calmed himself, and began to enjoy the fall stroll with his make-believe daughter. Of course, just one house turned into most of the ones on the whole block, but the Princess was having a great time and so was Barry.
Barry was starting to regret wearing heels after they finished the second block. At first, he was confused, heels? He than remember that the Princess had talked him into going with her in costume. It seemed strange at the beginning, because he didn’t recall even having a costume, but the thought faded as the Princess and he enjoyed the Halloween stroll.
Barry found himself giggling and laughing with the Princess as they turned down the drive of a re-modeled home, and she rang the doorbell.
“Daddy, we’re home,” the Princess squealed happily, as she threw herself into the arms of the man dressed as a classic Bela Lugosi vampire, complete with face paint and fangs.
Barry, Bar...? Bri...? Brianna carefully blinked her eyes? She held onto the porch railing with both hands as the world moved around her. Very carefully, she blinked her eyes again wondering what had happened. Brianna saw the Princess with the man in the vampire costume, but he didn’t seem familiar to her, nor did this house.
Allen had just finished putting on the last of the costume make-up, when the doorbell rang. He wondered where Scott had gotten off. After the little scoundrel had conned him into going to this costume party tonight, Scott had disappeared into his room, saying he had school project coming due. Allen hoped that Scott hadn’t slipped out, after being told he couldn’t. At fourteen, Scott was too old to go Trick or Treating, even if he could pass for younger, and Allen had been concerned about how he had been acting since Beth left them. Allen picked up the dish with the candy on his way to the door. It was probably just some Trick or Treaters making their last calls.
Allen barely had enough time before a wild bundle of petticoats and wild red hair leaped into his arms shouting, “Daddy we’re home!” Her momentum spun him around, as his mind tried and failed to cope. This girl was Scott, but it couldn’t be he thought dizzily. Scott was small for his age, but not this small. This girl’s hair is red and Scott’s is brown like his mother. With his mind rebelling, Allen grabbed the doorframe with one hand to steady himself as the world shifting itself around him.
Scott…? Sco…? Sor…? Sorcha was telling him excitedly, that she and Mommy were home. Mommy? Allen looked up and saw a beautiful witch complete with sexy black dress and tall pointed hat. She looked as confused as he felt. The witch had the most bewildered expression on her face, as she looked at him.
Brianna found herself watching the Princess, and the rather handsome Vampire. She didn’t recognize him or the house, but she should, right? Brianna saw her own confusion mirrored on the vampire’s face and wondered what was happening. Then, as clearly, as if someone had told her, she knew that she could just walk away, and all of this would just fade away like a dream. She had a choice, to go on with this dream, or just turn away and leave. Brianna didn’t know if this was the right choice, but she knew that she wanted this dream more than anything. She gathered her courage, and moved to her daughter and husband and kissed him.
Allen was shocked as the witch kissed him. He had thought that the world had trembled around him earlier, but now that was a pale vision for what just happened. What was a dream became real and what was real became a dream. A moment of forever later, Allen opened his eyes and found a green-gold sea before him. He lost himself looking into the depths, until abruptly brought back when Brianna blinked and Allen saw that he’d been staring into her eyes.
Sorcha giggling cheerfully managed to make both of her parents blush. “Daddy, Mummy, what am I going to do with you.” She placed both hands on her hips in mock anger.
This set off another bout of laughter and giggles from Sorcha, Brianna, and Allen, reluctantly joined. He felt odd and disjointed, and knew that something had happened. Just what, and if, was good or bad, he didn’t know. He felt unsure about himself and the situation that he found himself in. Allen realized that he’d been keeping his wife and daughter at the door and gestured them in. He said, “Why don’t you go to the kitchen, and I’ll nuke some hot coco for you,” as he lead them inside.
Brianna still felt a little lost, but with her daughter’s Sorcha’s hand firmly in her own, she followed her husband inside. She found a breakfast nook and slid in after taking Sorcha’s treat bag and emptying it onto the table. After waggling her finger at Sorcha to leave the candy be, Brianna started checking each piece making sure no one slipped any doctored candy to her child. She thankfully didn’t find any, but did notice some rather cheap generic mixed candies that seemed familiar somehow. “Honey, you don’t want these do you?” Brianna asked her daughter.
Sorcha peered carefully at the cheap treats, and her face lit up as she recognized them. “Don’t throw them away Mommy! Those are special!” Sorcha held out her hand for them.
“Okay, darling you can keep them, but you have to share.” Brianna told Sorcha as she tried to keep from laughing at the so serious look on her daughter’s face.
Sorcha nodded eagerly, and with great care placed a piece of the nearly discarded candy in front of her mother, herself, and another off to one side clearly meant for her father.
“Dear, while you are up could you get a jar for these?” Brianna asked pointing at the heap of candy treasure.
Allen nodded and soon brought over a jar and three mugs of coco. Brianna started scooping the candy into the jar and while Allen picked up Sorcha and put her in his lap he asked, “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to Princess?” Somehow, he knew that all of the confusion over the night’s events came from her.
Sorcha bobbed her head making her red curls bounce. “While you were turning into a Vampire, Daddy, I went and put on my costume. It wasn’t very good, and couldn’t make up my mind to go Trick or Treating or not. I didn’t want to be laughed at. Then my fairy Godmother showed up, and said that I had three wishes. I made my first wish by wishing I was a real live Princess!”
Brianna shared a glance with Allen and winked, because they knew Sorcha’s name in Gaelic meant radiant, but in Hebrew was princess.
“Then I wished that, I would find the best Mommy in the whole world, and bring her home tonight,” Sorcha continued. “We then went Trick or Treating, and had a wonderful time, and got a lot of candy and came home!”
Brianna laughingly corrected her, “That’s a few too many ANDS love,” and hugged her daughter.
Allen couldn’t help joining in, but when he caught his breath, he asked Sorcha, “What happened to the other wish, that was only two?”
Sorcha looked around, and with great concentration screwed her eyes shut and said, “I wish that we would all live happily ever-after!”
They all looked at each other in a half expectant way as if waiting for something to happen. Allen wasn’t sure what he believed in at that moment, but in his heart, he knew that his choice had been made to spend his life with these two. He reached out, pulled his witch and princess to him, and said, “Happily Ever After.”
If the world trembled, shook, or moved, they never noticed as they dissolved into a happy knot of giggles and laughter.
Outside, the aforementioned fairy Godmother, swished and flicked her wand, and completed the spell, “Done, Done, and done!” A tornado of fairy dust shot forth and swirled about the now happy home. She was feeling rather proud of herself. One set of three wishes given to a deserving youngster had given three good people a chance for a long happy life. Only a chance, for not even magic could do everything. She’d chased off that nasty character trying to cause mischief, not on her watch! Now, there was only one more task left to do.
As she flew toward the front door, the Godmother flicked her wand, once more and grew in size dressed as a baby-sitter. Now walking, she reached for the doorbell, but held herself from pressing it. The sound of happy giggles and laughter was a joy, and after all, the witch and the vampire still had some time left to spare with their princess, until their party.
Looking back at the passion Brianna had kissed Alan with, the Godmother thought, that being a mother wouldn’t be the only pleasure that Brianna would enjoy. If things went the way, the Godmother thought they would; there was a good chance that Sorcha would soon have a brother or sister, because magic was in the air!
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Have you ever fallen so in love with a story it seems you’re right there sharing the adventure? If so then ‘The Regards of Shadows’ might be the book for you!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. Very special thanks go out to Cathy, who despite not being able to proofread this one for me, took the time to remind me to check for my usual errors.
Dedicated to Catherine Linda Michel and all others who love to read.
Robert de Lascy, Duke of Ironwood, Protector of the Kingdom, glared at the useless ceremonial guards standing before the richly finished ornate doors. They’d stayed safe cowering within the walls of Londinium while he and his stalwart men faced the Black Necromancer Mortis and fought back his godless undead hordes from the gates.
A low growl came from Robert’s loyal man at arms, Percy, who always stood at his back. Beside him, the Druidess Heather in her green robes held her staff of office. The same that had defeated the evil magic of Mortis and enabled them to win the day, despite the weak willed King whose actions were the catalyst for this entire disaster.
Like curs, the guardsmen slinked away …
“Oh come on!” I exclaimed, “It can’t be that easy! You know Neville was behind this. Do you really think he’s just going to give up? Sure those Praetorian wuzzies sure as hell aren’t going to give you and Percy any flack, but what about those assassins he hired? They almost nailed you once before you know.”
A deep rumble from my ample spare tire signaled it was past time to raid the kitchen. Sighing, I slipped my makeshift bookmark between the pages and levered myself off the threadbare couch.
Pickings in the fridge were slim with me being out of work, but I managed to find something that hadn’t turned green or tried to escape yet. Sitting back down plate in hand, I shook my head. Who would’ve thought it? Me, Jerry Reynolds of all people, reading a beefcake romance?
A life long compulsive reader, I usually preferred science fiction or sword and sorcery fantasy. However, being broke the bookstore was out which left only the public library. Living in an ultra-conservative county meant it really didn’t get the good, hard, cutting-edge stuff that was my favored literary addiction.
So browsing the new books I didn’t have much in the range of choices. These days many romance writers had branched out setting their soft porn novels in pseudo urban fantasy environments or even thinly disguised as science fiction. Not really my cup of tea if you know what I mean.
Today was different. I was desperate for a book to escape into. After pounding the pavement in vain trying to find employment, any work at all and coming up with nothing, I was seriously in the dumps.
The only possible opening I’d found was doing phone work. That was out not only because I didn’t much care for those people calling me, but because I have one of those soft tenors those of Celt ancestry have sometimes. Along with my southern accent, I’m frequently mistaken for female on the phone. No thank you, my fragile male ego had already taken enough of a beating with my fiancée dumping me, and losing my job.
Not finding anything deepened my depression, and searching for some solace I hit the library on the way home. Predictably, they didn’t have a damn thing. What was weird was this one book that caught my attention. The moment I saw the cover of ‘The Regard of Shadows,’ I knew it was nothing more than a romance. The half-naked beefcake hero holding an improbably huge sword while a woman swooned against his muscular bare chest said it all.
Closing my eyes in pain at the very thought of reading this, I put it back, but damn it, my eyes kept wandering back to it. Reaching the end of the shelf still empty handed, I knew I was going to hate myself, but like I said I was desperate.
Fortunately for my self-respect this branch had a do it yourself checkout. The thought of someone knowing I was reading tripe like this was mortifying. What was weird was ‘The Regard of Shadows’ didn’t seem to be in the system although the freaking out computer let me check it out.
I just stared at the checkout receipt that listed the book, but lacked a due back date. I almost took the thing to the main desk, but along with the embarrassment with being caught with a book like this, I was seriously not having a good day. The way I was feeling, I’d probably rip though this story pretty fast and have it back by tomorrow anyways.
Dragging myself home, I wasted no time becoming acquainted with Robert, Percy and Heather. As advertised, the Duke of Ironwood was a manly man with of course the required six-pack abs and chiseled physique. Faithful Percy was the man mountain side kick with surprisingly wry humor.
That left Heather the female lead of this drama who was the druidess who had the knowledge and skills to defeat the oncoming crisis. Frankly, while her description painted her as everything a man wanted, I thought she was a bitch and a half. High maintenance didn’t come close to doing her justice.
The kicker was I found myself enjoying the hell out of this. You see there was a wildcard character in the story. Robert kept hearing this mysterious feminine voice that gave him a heads up when bad stuff was on the way as well as making these hilarious comments. It had me wondering if Heather really was the romantic interest in this or not.
What kept me fascinated was the mystery of this enigmatic woman. She filled the role of mentor like Gandalf did for Tolkien, but used a lot of modern pop references that gave a nice T.H. White ‘The Once and Future King’ jibe to the story.
Soon I found myself completely absorbed lost in the pages. I’m one of those people my friends hate going to the movies with because I can’t help but make comments aloud about what’s going on. Much to their dismay it also happens when I really get into a book. What made this a blast was that the mysterious voice’s commentary was much like my own. It was a ‘Breaking of the Fourth Wall’ that had me glued to the pages.
I was going to have to look up this author tomorrow, but first I was gonna finish this bad boy. Flipping to my bookmark, I continued.
“Indeed my fair, but unseen enchantress,” Robert replied. “I pray that he does contest me. As for his lackeys, I have no fear for my sword arm is strong and faithful Percy is watching my back.”
“Would this be a good time to ask for a raise, m’lord?” The aforementioned asked. “Always wise to make sure of your allies don’t you know.” Percy said jokingly.
“Are you talking to that voice again?” Heather whined. “You don’t need to listen to her. My spells shall protect you my love.” She said wrapping an arm possessively about his.
Rolling his eyes, Percy cleared his throat glancing significantly at the doors to the throne room.
Robert, disentangling himself from Heather, nodded his understanding.
“What he said,” His Seer’s voice dryly pointed out.
“Shall we dear friends? Into the breach!” He dramatically declared, kicking the doors open.
“Knock, knock,” I chortled.
As I expected Sir Neville had the stacked the deck assigning his hired guns positions next to King Wishy Washy. Of course all hell broke loose, but Robert kicked ass and took names.
No, the real problems didn’t start until after the climatic fight. You see, Heather was all ready to depose the monarchy and set up herself as Queen. That is while riding on Duke Ironwood’s shirt tails. That witch had her claws in him and she wasn’t letting go for anything.
On the other hand, the King was Robert’s brother even if he was an idiot you couldn’t trust to tie his own shoes. Besides, the Duke knew enough that he really didn’t want the job. Try telling that to Miss-I’m-going to become Queen even if it kills you and see how far you get.
I was still holding out for his ‘fair enchanting seer.’ She seemed like she had her head in the right place, and would make a much better match for him. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending.
Looking for her and seeking haven from the shrew from hell, Robert and Percy adjourned to the old court wizard’s tower. Well, it’d used to be before the late Sir Neville arranged to have the Wiz repeatedly pushed down several flights of stairs. Accidents happen you know.
Anyways, at the start of the story the Wiz had shown Robert the cliché ‘magic mirror.’ It hadn’t done them much good since Mortis’s spells were protecting all the guilty parties from scrying, but it wouldn’t have made a very interesting story otherwise would it?
Robert was hoping he could use it to find his enchantress. He really needed a little help handling Heather. Hack and slash his way though hordes of mindless undead critters from hell, yes. Deal with a conniving, ambitious witch, not so much.
The Duke stood in front of the mirror studying the silvered surface set within the ornate craved wooden frame. So finely made it gleamed like a pool of the purest water.
“Do you really believe you’re going to find the face of your true love in there Sherlock?” His enchantress asked unseen using yet another term he’d not a clue to the meaning.
“If you mean do I hope to finally find who you are, then the answer is yes. You’ve aided me against men and beasts saving my life time and time again fair one. I would tear away the veil separating us to give you my thanks in person.”
“Oh come on, Duke! You haven’t a clue as to my appearance anymore than you have to my identity.” She responded, her strange accent exotic and enticing to his ears.
“Perhaps so,” He replied. “But actions speak far more forcefully than words. Regardless of your beauty or lack thereof, it’s the song you’ve sung to my heart that holds me captive.”
Only a humorous snort rejoined his riposte.
Turning to the mirror he commanded, “Mirror of Ages, I beseech thee to reveal my veiled guardian to mine eyes.”
The luminous glass swirled, as searching the whole world. Slowly it grew calm like the fading ripples in a pool.
“The one you seek is not of this world, and can not be seen.” A siren sang.
“We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service” His Seer intoned cryptically, but he could hear her silent laughter.
The proud man bowed his head as if feeling an unbearable pain. Then as fighting his way past an unbeatable foe he tried another tactic.
“Not of this world? I remember the old wizard telling me you were a window into all that was and what could be. If you can not show me the fair one can you bring her to me? I fear she will be most distraught with me because of this, but I fear I can not live without her.”
“Only true love has the power to conquer space and time.” The mirror bargained. “I can bring her to you, but there is a price to be paid. If you fail to win her love with a kiss full of tenderness and devotion the two of you shall be forever parted till the end of time your souls never again meeting in any of your lives to come. Do you dare strike such a bargain Son of Adam?”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good deal there, Chief.” She argued. “You’re risking all your future lives happiness, just so you might have a chance for a little joy in what remains in the one you’ve got. Besides, listen to that thing talk. Sounds like a deal with the Devil to me. Not a good idea.”
He sighed deeply. “My whole life has been spent either training or fighting. Now that I know, I can not forget or ignore the possibility there can be more to my life.”
“You’ll be sorry,” she chimed in determined to have the last word.
“That might be so,” He agreed. “But it won’t be because I’m afraid to face any challenge of steel or the heart.”
Turning to the Mirror of Ages, he commanded, “I agree to your bargain. Bring my enchantress to me.”
I was just getting to the good part when my apartment blew up!
Gas main must’ve blown, but instead of throwing me backwards, I was sucked forward, Holy Shit! The wall was completely gone, but I couldn’t see a thing. Everything was flying wild, books, papers, and everything else not nailed down.
I don’t know what happened to ‘The Regards of Shadows’ because I was too damn busy holding onto my couch for dear life. For once the worn out furniture served a useful purpose as my desperate fingers clawed into the frayed material.
Like something out of a demented video, I was yanked off my feet anchored only by my frantic grasp. Then the whole damn couch started sliding forward in the gaping maw, Oh Frakk!
On a world far, far away, a man waited for some sign of his hopes and dreams were coming true. After a long moment, he turned and walked away his shoulders hung low as if carrying an unbearable burden.
Closing the door behind him he began the long decent down the tower stairs missing the shimmer within the depths of the glass.
Hysterical strength gave me the power to pull myself further onto the sliding furniture, but I was ripped away as it struck the edge of the wall. Screaming my lungs out, I fell into a vortex of stars.
How long can you scream on one lung full of air? I don’t know, but I was still going at it when I passed though, well, something. Damn if it didn’t feel like being covered in goo the way it stuck and the sudden wet sensation. I was still flailing wildly and I believe I hit couple more of those things. It was as if parts of I was being squeezed while others felt like they were being pulled and stretched.
I was still trying to yell when a spark of light grew into a bright star. Passing entire galaxies, I shrieked my panic as I hit.
The terrified pounding in ears let me know I was still alive. Shaking like a leaf, I cautiously opened an eye. I was sprawled face down on a cold dusty wooden floor. Looking up, I hadn’t a clue where I was.
Closing my eyes again, I tried counting to twenty to calm myself and hoped for a reasonable explanation. Damn it, but the only thing that came to mind was that my first thought was correct, a gas explosion. I must be unconscious, maybe even in a coma, and having some kind of weird dream.
I did know my chest hurt and every inch of me still seemed peculiar and out of sorts. Wondering what that sticky stuff was, I dragged my trembling hand up to see.
For a long moment, my brains froze. That was not my hand!
The slim delicate fingers with their long nails didn’t belong to me! Ignoring the little fact they wiggled when I wanted them too, they were, they were … feminine?
My whole body continued to feel kinda wet and my skin very sensitive, which reminded me strangely enough of the days right after I’d shaved off my beard. When the wind blew across the newly exposed area, it felt as if I still had hair there. Phantom beard syndrome I’d joked. Now I wondered just what my senses were mistranslating considering what my eyes were telling me.
Grimacing, triage demanded I look to my chest as my first priority. Even now I was as weak as a kitten. Stark raving terror from free falling for what seemed like eternity will do that. I knew it had to be shock, and my ongoing discoveries weren’t helping one damn bit.
A cautious grope didn’t discover any good news. You really have to question your state of mind when you find those twin bloody spikes that have driven deep into your chest are really nothing more than you crushing your breasts into the floor, and that’s bad news.
Breasts? I’m not supposed to have breasts damn it! On the other hand, at least the pain is easily taken care of. Groaning, I roll over onto my back, tears leaking from my eyes. Gingerly, touching the aching orbs it was a lot like a shot I’d taken between the legs once. It seriously hurt!
All my senses were misfiring, and the jiggling with every breath was hmmm … distracting. Okay, I didn’t know where I was, but right now I was helpless and in trouble. Making myself focus, I looked for something to prop up my feet, the most basic first aid for treating shock.
There was a table with old fashioned low cross-pieces off to my side. Laboriously twisting around, I got my feet up. Sighing with relief, I concentrated on taking deep slow breaths.
As my heartbeat finally approached something near normal, I stared upward in relief. People had died of fright from a hell of a lot less than what I just went though. Carefully holding my aching breasts, ‘still going though,’ I amended.
Then it registered just what was almost directly behind and above me. The mirror was a huge antique looking free standing floor model whose wooden frame was covered in all kind of weird symbols.
“Aw crap,” I moaned somewhat surprised my voice hadn’t changed while every damn thing else had. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is?”
Just before my apartment freaking blew up, I’d read, ‘Bring my enchantress to me.’ Oh please, dear God, why me. Didn’t my life suck enough already? All I was doing was reading a frigging library book for crying out loud.
My hands informed me that at least I was dressed, but not the same comfortable old t-shirt and shorts I’d been lounging in. I really didn’t want to move. However, if I was where I seemed to be there wasn’t any choice.
The wiz’s tower had been abandoned since Sir Naughty Pants had offed the old man. There wasn’t any food or water, and sure as hell no sanitary facilities up here. If I wanted out of here, I would have walk down five or six flights of stairs. Wasn’t this just absolutely freaking lovely. I could only hope I hadn’t picked up a case of acrophobia or vertigo from my delightful fall though the looking glass.
Sitting up was a job in itself. Looking down at myself, I sighed at the cleavage blocking so much of my view of the new me. The creamy pale curves were very different from the old, hairy, freckled me. My twin peaks were shrouded by a rich blue satin-like fabric. The dress appeared to go all the way down to my ankles where I saw a pair of heeled shoes not too unlike those things little girls wear, Mary Janes.
Using the table to help my shaky knees stand, I decided to put that mirror to use, before I questioned it.
The woman in the blue dress the mirror revealed was undeniably attractive. Her bosom was pushed up and displayed by a darker indigo corset like thing which made her waist look very small, while the rest of the dress flowed all the way to the floor. Full sleeves reached all the way to her hands. Taking a wild guess, even with those heels on, I’m shorter now, using the height of the table as a rough guide. While I had thinning red hair, this girl had these shiny black braids put up in an elaborate construction on top of her head. And while her complexion was damn near perfect, it’d never seen a sunburn like I had all too often. She could’ve been a vampire especially along with that hair, if you know what I mean.
It was her other features that were unusual. Instead of an epicanthic fold that gives Asians their almond shaped, hers were actually canted rather like a cat’s. Her long dark lashes framed her striking emerald green eyes. Being a long time fantasy fiction fan, she looked rather like I imagined real elves would. What ruined that illusion was her lips were rather full, and was missing the pointy ears.
Her elegantly long neck shifted things back towards the Sylvan, and the slim build did so even more so. Regardless how much that helped her elvish elegance, her um… sizable assets made her voluptuous. The blue dress didn’t, couldn’t, hide a figure like that. The overall effect was of a slender woman with about five or so extra pounds that all went to her tits and ass.
It wasn’t freakish looking, but sure as well was an attention magnet. That pushed her into movie star gorgeous or maybe Playboy Bunny. The fly in the ointment here was this woman was me, damn it to hell.
“Crap!” I grasped out, struggling not to hyperventilate again. “Why do I look this?”
“Because,” The Mirror of Ages rippled as it replied, “Neither you nor Duke Robert de Lascy exists in each other’s worlds. Just as you imagine how he looked from the words you read, he imagined you from the words you spoke.”
The room swayed a bit as I digested the idea that magic mirrors were real. Blinking away the darkness around the edges of my vision, I carefully asked, “So this how Bob the Hero envisioned his Seer?”
“Yes,” It responded simply.
Resisting the urge to curse like a sailor, I recalled from those early chapters the Mirror of Ages was like a computer. You have to ask the right questions in the right way, or you got nothing, but garbage back.
Okay asking why I was here was a waste. It was because frakking Robert told the mirror to drag his invisible enchantress here.
“Mirror,” I said, formally addressing the thing that’d dragged me extremely unwillingly here. “I think you’ve made a mistake. I’ll admit the dialogue in the story is much like the comments I made while reading, but they weren’t exact. I’m not the Duke’s unseen guide.”
Thinking I’d made my point, I closed, “There forth if you would please send back to planet Earth and my right identity and body, I promise I’ll forget all about this.”
“No,” The damn thing answered.
“Why the frakk why not?” I angrily demanded, forgetting to keep calm.
“Duke Robert de Lascy has until the next moon to win your love with a kiss full of tenderness and devotion. If he fails, the two of you shall be forever parted till the end of time, your souls never again meeting in any your lives to come.” It recited the bargain Duke Tin Pants had made.
“Argh! I’m not the one you wanted you piece of bad plagiarism! You got the wrong damn girl, I mean guy. Crap!” I was so mad, I couldn’t speak.
“Yes, you are.” It said back never changing its calm tone.
“No! I’m not!” I yelled aware my throat was still raw from my disturbing arrival.
“Yes, you are,” repeated the damn thing.
Fuming, I could see this was going nowhere. Ask the right question, I reminded myself.
“If I want to return home right now, what would I need to do?” I asked.
“Duke Robert de Lascy would have to default on his bargain and concede defeat. The failure would mean the two of you shall be forever parted till the end of time, your souls never again meeting in any your lives to come.” It said yet again.
“Yeah, I know.” I sarcastically pointed out. “You’ve said that before.”
“Just in case you’ve not being paying attention I’m a guy, male, you know the sex with a penis.” I argued. The right question, I reminded myself again. “You’ve made this sound like despite the little fact I was born a man, that Bobbie and I are some kind of star-crossed lovers or soul mates. Answer this. Have the two of our souls ever met before in this life or any other before?”
“No,” It said.
“Thank you,” I spat out. That was what I wanted to know. It didn’t matter if Robert’s and my soul never met again, because we weren’t anything at all to each other. After all I reminded myself, he was just a character in a book. I didn’t have a clue how this got so screwed up, but by God, I was going to straighten it out.
Spotting the door across the cluttered tower room, I got moving. Just like you expect it was full of all kinds of odd and weird supposedly magical stuff. Either that or Wiz used to be one hell of pack rat. Not wanting to blow myself up, I skirted around it all. Reaching the door, I took a deep breath. I was a man with a mission. Get my balls back.
To an empty room, the Mirror of Ages spoke, “The unasked question was the correct one. Yes, the two of you are, and it does matter.”
Percy met him on the way down. Robert could tell from his man’s expression it wasn’t good. He had some guesses as to why and none of them boded well.
“I would really wait if I were you. Could be worth your life if you know what I mean, Milord,” his faithful friend informed him standing in front of the door.
The noble sighed, “Heather?”
“Aye, Herself has been sniffing around,” Percy confirmed.
His friend made her sound as if she was only a bitch in heat. However, it was much more complicated than that. When politics got involved, it always was.
To many his choices appeared clear. Depose the King and make Heather his Queen. Despite King John being an idiot, Robert loved his brother and didn’t want to put him on the chopping block. The problem was he would have to in order to keep other idiots from trying to use him and plunge the kingdom back into yet another war.
And Heather, as comely she might be in her own slender, sun-browned way, she was also ambitious, jealously possessive, and a royal pain. Additionally, she was a pagan dead set on bringing back the old ways which would make the Church very unhappy.
Not that the Church would be very pleased with his own preference for a wife, although he’d never seen her. Seers and others, who used magic, weren’t held the in the highest esteem by the clergy. However, he simply didn’t care. He had to finally meet her. There lay his dilemma. The Mirror of Ages was his last real hope of meeting the owner of that bewitching voice who’d guided him though such travails that would make even the strongest men quake. However, it was more than just the aid she’d freely given.
As a noble who was in the line of succession, he’d quickly grown jaded as others showered attention upon him. Always they had exterior motives wanting to use him or desiring something from him. To have anyone, much less a woman with a voice like hers humorously bicker with him while giving advice that’s not only saved his life, but had defeated a dread threat to the country he loved, was priceless.
Percy glanced up the stairs. “I take it the news isn’t good?”
Robert shook his head not wanting to say his quest had ended in failure. “Is she still out there?” He asked, changing the subject.
Percy clasped his friend’s shoulder. He knew exactly how much finding the Seer that’d guided them though such treacherous times the bards were even now composing their saga, would mean.
“I check to see if the way is clear,” He said easing the door open. Not seeing anyone, he signaled quietly the way was clear.
Together they slipped out and started to secure the court wizard’s door behind them.
Out of the jumble of roses surrounding the tower, Druidess appeared like a ghost. Her cold blue eyes flashing with anger as she stalked towards them.
Percy and Robert looked at each in dismay. This was not good.
Standing on the landing, my resolve wavered. Peering down the stairs, it was a long way to the bottom. The problem was, moving in this dress complicated things and that wasn’t counting the awkward shoes.
I might not be the most manly dude on Earth, but sure as hell I’d never worn a dress before, much less heels. On the other hand, I already knew the floor was ice cold, and my feet would freeze long before reaching the bottom.
Awkwardly lifting my hem, I started down.
By my second step, I knew this was gong to take awhile. Between lifting that damn long dress out of the way and clinging for dear life to the wall for support, while I felt for each step with these damn shoes from hell on, I was a wreck. Hadn’t these people ever heard of handrails? Let’s not forget not being able to see my own feet for God’s sake! That double, no, triple damned, dress pushed up these boobs providing the perfect obstructions.
Like most red blooded men, I have nothing against ‘cleavage.’ However, from my few female friends, I’d heard they did nothing, but get in the way. At this point I agreed. On the other hand, I never recalled a single one ever complained their ‘assets’ were too large.
I knew intellectually that being top heavy could cause all kinds of back and other problems. It was just hard telling my primitive hind brain that. Maybe, finally, brain number two was gaining some wisdom. I very carefully didn’t think about the very real possibility that ‘he’ didn’t make the trip with me. The boobies and rest of the package were a strong hint if you know what I mean. With this dress being so constrictive, finding out for sure would’ve been a battle in itself. Better to use the energy to getting me back to Earth in my right body. Who knows maybe I can work a deal to get some improvements added as compensation since someone else for damn sure screwed up big time.
After another couple of steps I’d started working a method to deal with the problems. Beginning to breathe hard now, I’d already had a love/hate relationship going with whatever the hell was binding me so tightly. Okay, it was good those bouncing ‘things’ were restrained. From the way they quivered like jello with every breath and step, I wouldn’t be able to walk other wise. On the other hand, being able to breathe would be nice too.
Speaking of the front, didn’t make me forget about the aft. Yes, compared to the itsy bitsy waist, I had a big caboose. That was something that I wouldn’t have complained about before. At least as long as I kept moving slow and deliberate, that part wasn’t giving any problems.
Used to using humor to help myself though the bad times, I had to grin at the irony. Here I was in a real honest to God fantasy world, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell home!
I couldn’t remember the number of times I’d daydreamed of being like John Carter of Mars, and being the hero on some other world. Just maybe ending up some place where an oddball me fit in.
Yeah, I knew if it ever happened for real, I’d be very lucky to last out the night. Let’s face it. While I’d been around the block a few times, I wasn’t a bad ass solider or martial arts expert. History buff or not, I simply lacked the skills that survival in a places like that demanded.
Only a dream, but now it’d turned real, being that history buff, I knew exactly how tough it’d been to be the ‘weaker’ sex in more primitive times. Might makes right. If I’d still been me, I might’ve risked it. As a gorgeous, voluptuous woman all gift wrapped for a big brute to sweep me off my feet, no way Jose!
At last, reaching a point where I could see the ground floor, I felt like a tube of toothpaste from being squeezed by my clothes. My poor ribs felt bruised from fighting to breathe past what to be I decided had to really be a corset.
Nothing like seeing the ending to make the rest of the way goes by faster. As I got nearer my goal, I heard a man and woman arguing. Loudly, I might add. She was so screaming mad, I’d no idea what she was so pissed off about.
The man’s baritone wasn’t so much as angry as seriously ticked off, and yelling back just to be heard over her banshee wails. From him I picked out enough to guess he had to be Duke Robert giving reasons why he wanted the job of King about as much as he wanted a hole in the head.
Okay, there was one confirming clue that I’d really was in the world from ‘The Regards of Shadows.’ I made a silent promise to never again read another romance book no matter how damn bored I was. Not really wanting to, I cracked open the door. From the racket going on, no one sane would want to step into the middle of that.
After catching my breath, it appeared that they weren’t going to wind down any time soon, Oh Hell! Alrighty then! Nothing ventured, nothing gained, here goes nothing!
I stepped outside.
Wisely, Percy used a long practiced skill. As Robert’s ostensibly man at arms, most nobles ignored him treating him as if invisible. He’d refined that tendency into an art form.
With Heather’s ear-piercing rant, it was more than the better part of valor. He might be Robert’s illegitimate brother, and best friend, but no amount of loyalty could make him tempt fate that much.
That was why he saw her first. As hesitant as any church mouse she cautiously pushed the door open. Considering some of the old wizard’s experiments, his hand dropped to his sword just in case, but his mouth gaped as she stepped out into the evening.
It was obvious she was a Lady of quality from the fine, rich, blue dyed gown she wore. Her hair was as dark as night and done up in intricate braids while her skin put the finest porcelain to shame. However, while her cast of features was exotic and very fetching, it was her eyes that were truly beautiful. They were so large and such a vivid green that you simply knew she was from some far away place.
However, it was the humor that twinkled in those eyes and the smile that brightened her face that told him exactly who she must be, Robert’s Seer. The Wizard’s bloody mirror must’ve worked after all, which was a miracle in of itself when he remembered the number of explosions and accidents the old man used to have up there in his tower.
His half-brother’s slack jawed, amazed stare as he finally saw her had Percy smirking. That lasted, but a fleeting moment, as Herself twisted to see what had stuck the man she was so vainly chasing.
While Heather’s earthy beauty mayhap be more to his personal taste, it was the Druidess’s ugly hate filling her face that made Percy wisely vow to stay well away from that one. Some things a man simply doesn’t need and that was one of them.
The air itself seemed to shiver. Alarm filled him as he recognized the signs of Heather calling her magics. Long weeks on the trail with her had educated Percy in just how deadly she wielded such powers.
Desperately, he moved to protect his brother and the unarmed Seer.
Out of habit, I checked out the woman who must be Heather first. Despite my unwanted change, these people were still, until recently, only characters in a book. To see them in the flesh was a wild experience.
For instance, the Druidess from the Sacred Groves was an incredibly beautiful woman. In the real world, we’re talking supermodel here, baby! Her slender, well-toned, tanned body was a 10, and after adding her long blond hair, sapphire eyes, and very kissable lips into the equation, Heather was seriously hot!
However, like the song goes, ‘On the inside, baby ain’t so pretty.’ After a couple hundred pages, I’d learned that the Druidess had a cruel streak that made me think of that bumper sticker. ‘Mean people suck.’
Even though I was in the wrong body it was still a little disturbing to look at her and not feel any ‘reaction’ regardless of how much I knew she really wasn’t a nice person.
Sighing, I looked the guy over, and gasped as our eyes met. Just like his description from the book, Robert, Duke of Ironwood was a huge man closer to seven feet tall than he was to six. Broad of shoulder of and slender of waist he could’ve won the Mr. Universe title without breaking a sweat. I involuntarily stared at his handsome face and into his hazel eyes.
What the hell was I doing? My heart was beating like crazy, and the rest of this unasked for body of mine was going nuts. I felt like Artoo Detoo when he’d plugged into a power outlet by mistake the way lightning danced over me, woweee!
I’m not gay, I’m not gay, I’m not damn it. Maybe I knew that, however, this traitoress body of mine had other ideas, and it wasn’t shy about making them known.
It didn’t help one damn bit when Duke Bob over there broke out in the goofiest schoolboy grin I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help myself from glancing … hmmm… lower and yeah, sure enough, he’d risen to the occasion.
Oh Crap! I’m not that way, damn it. Despite myself, I sneaked another peek. Oh my Gawd, Woof!
Heather’s stopped in mid rant, as she finally noticed Duke Bob was completely ignoring her. The look on her face as she saw me was a study. The pure fury that poured out of her eyes was something else altogether different. Nope, baby wasn’t so pretty on the inside for sure!
I opened my mouth to reassure Miss Screaming Banshee that I only wanted to go home as soon as we both could convince Bobby boy to talk to the Mirror. That died on my lips as she wound up a humdinger of a magic spell. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she meant for me to become a crispy corpse.
Icy shivers flashed up my spine seeing the death in her eyes. Then I remembered. Mortis had almost foiled her back in chapter 26, because he knew of her weakness or at least thought he did, Heather’s true name. However, while he didn’t have it right, I was privy to her very thoughts recorded in black and white in the pages of ‘The Regards of Shadows.’
“You don’t want to do this, Heather,” I warned her, half frightened out of my wits.
She shot me an evil glare and didn’t even pause in casting her mojo. Okay, then, I had no choice.
“Be quiet *Heather,*” I ordered using her true name.
Her eyes widened in shock as her voice abruptly stopped. I could see the energies from her interrupted magics swirl madly right before they discharged as a lightning bolt striking the high peaked roof of the tower behind me. Thank God the Wiz knew about lightning rods.
“Heather, I’ll restore your speech, but you have to understand that there is precious little I don’t know about you. If you come after me again, I will silence you, permanently. Do you understand? Nod please.” I asked still feeling weird myself. The only thing normal about me was my voice box. It was everything else that’d changed.
The fury in her eyes couldn’t be mistaken, but there was fear there too. For those who used magic, their true names were a great weakness, because if you knew how to, you could command them. Hell, I was still surprised it’d worked for me, especially since I’d be a smoking smear if it hadn’t.
“Be as you were *Heather*,” I said, releasing her.
She grasped a squeal and ran like death himself was on her heels. Hey, I’m not that damn bad. No matter it happened having someone as incredibly attractive as her running from you kinda kicks you where it hurts, bitch or not.
Okay, now all that’s left is to tell Beefcake Bob he’d made a teensy little error, and get back home. That plan lasted all of a heartbeat as I turned and ran straight into a brick wall.
That’s if brick walls were 6’8” of solid muscle and bone. Throwing out my hands to lessen the impact on my damn still sensitive boobs, I found myself feeling up his steel band-like six-pack abs.
Looking up, he had to be at least a foot taller than me, and maybe more than that wide. My breath caught and it sure as hell wasn’t from fear either. The words awe-inspiring come to mind as I was exposed to one hell of a fine example of animal magnetism.
My holy mantra of I’m not gay evaporated as my body forcefully disagreed as I tingled from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. Catching the wonderful scent coming off of him I think even my freaking hair follicles were in lust!
“I’m Robert de Lascy, Duke of Ironwood,” his deep voice rumbled sending even more delightful shivers I was hopeless to ignore. “Who do I have the pleasure of thanking for your timely rescue?”
Me rescue him?
“Jerry Dean Reynolds,” I blurted out my full name, rattled by my body’s irrational responses.
“I’m so honored to meet you, Gerri de Reinold. Excuse me, but I must know if you’re the enchantress who aided me so recently against the Necromancer Mortis?” The way he looked into my eyes took my breath away again.
Growing faint, I tried to answer, but was damn tongue tied, I couldn’t say a thing. The big lug took that as a yes!
“You’re exactly as I envisioned and dreamed,” Robert huskily whispered his face dropping close to mine.
Oh Gawd! Oh Gawd, he’s going to … hmmm!
An endless moment later I trying and failing to blink away the ‘fireworks.’ Hell, it was more like a nuclear meltdown, because my whole body felt molten from heat burning within.
A man kissed me. A man kissed me.
However, the absolute worse of it was Bob’s own smitten expression. His blue eyes smoldered as his arms pulled me close.
I wanted, should’ve pulled away, but I was helpless as he leaned downward again.
“My Lady de Reinold,” He whispered. “I think I’m going to kiss you again.”
I think Percy might’ve been smirking, but conscious thought had left me. Somewhere a part of me was mortified, but I was too busy wrapping myself around the man holding me so tight.
We both parted not to end whatever the hell had just happened, but to see each other. We each had to know what the other felt. Me, I was glowing, but it sure as hell wasn’t because of magic. It was all Duke Tin Pants fault, and damn it to hell I wanted more.
The question was what the hell was that? I’d never felt anything like that before. Was this how a woman normally felt? Damn it! I’m a man inside. I’m not supposed to be acting like this no matter what body I got dreamed into by a freaking fictional character from a library book.
Wordlessly, he reached out and took my hand. As his fingers closed about mine, a smile grew from within me despite my resistance.
A matching smile appeared on his lips.
I felt a connection. Somehow with him I was whole. My entire life had been spent looking fruitlessly for where I belong. As the old song goes, for my place in the sun, but I’d found only shadows and darkness.
The Wiz’s tower was right there waiting. All I had to do was push this big lunk up the stairs and make him send me home. I’d not a doubt he would do so. Hell, if I told him to jump off a cliff right now, he only would ask which one.
The truth was there in his eyes. If I did it would hurt this man right down to his very soul. I didn’t think I could bear that, because his pain would hurt me too. It was that connection thing again, both wonderful and yet so very terrible.
I closed my so much smaller hand about his big paw. The Mirror and the tower weren’t going anywhere. We did have 28 days. After being alone for so long, I had to know if just maybe this was where I really belonged. Besides, I’d always prided myself on having an open mind. We would see. This was definitely a put up or shut up situation.
Finding myself growing lost the longer I smiled into his eyes, perhaps both of us deserved a happy ending.
Percy’s very amused baritone reminded us we had an audience. “Perhaps My Lord we should find rooms for Lady de Reinold. It appears she’s going to be staying a while, or perhaps should I alert Brother William to dust off his tomes on marriage?”
My own face mirrored Robert’s as he blushed red. However, that did remind me of his more immediate problem.
“Excuse me, Robert, but talking about ceremonies, I know you really don’t want to be King. With that in mind have you considered a Parliamentary style of government?” I asked, desperately striving to change the subject.
His blank look told me all I needed to know. Oh this was going to be fun!
Cindy wandered the stacks of books waiting for her turn to get online using one of the library’s computers. She was on the waiting list, but instead of browsing the magazines today, she wanted something different today.
Never a big reader, she’d seen that Twilight movie and it’d gotten her interested in the genre. Slowly she’d worked her way thought the Sherilynn Kenyon Dark Hunter series, and J.R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood stories. They all shared the theme of some real bad boy, who just needed the right woman to turn them around.
She was the first to admit her life sucked. The few hours she spent lost in the comfort between those pages helped. For just a little while, all the problems of her life could be forgotten.
A glitter of gold caught her notice. Pulling the gilded book with the fancy scroll-like title lettering, she read the back cover blurb. It kind of sounded interesting, but today she needed more.
Cheating, she turned to the last page to make sure. It was just what she wanted to see. There in black and white it read.
The newly wed Gerri de Lascy turned to her husband. “What do we do now my love?”
Lifting the veil to reveal the woman he adored with all his heart, he looked into her bright green eyes. Tilting her face up to his, their lips met with tenderness and devotion forever sealing their bargain with love.
He whispered, lovingly in her ear, “Why we live happily ever after of course.”
John took a bet to get a date with the girl of his dreams. He didn't know that when you enter the Wild Side all bets were off!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Glancing behind me, the officials at the custom desks were watching me. The Wild Side returning native, tourists and the curious had already transited though the gate on their way home leaving only me. Even the human business folks had gone on ahead intent on their jobs.
Hey, at least they had some clue as to what awaited them on the other side.
I was the newbie, a Gate virgin.
It wasn't that humans avoided the Gates. After all we'd created the damn things looking for a loophole we'd hoped Einstein had somehow missed. We'd gotten a clue when the Haydon Collider snooped out those particles that were speeding, breaking the old Master's speed limit.
Imagine everyone's surprise when the first Gate accidentally formed. Even more, think about how those first visitors to the Wild Side felt. No, they didn't end up on another planet like Edgar Rice Burrough's heroes, but instead a whole new universe.
This was a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be. Being here all by my lonesome didn't help. Most tourists from Earth did the weekend thing going in groups. I suppose it was like Disney World. Go during the week and beat the crowds. In this case, it didn't help.
I knew Jason, Allison and Mary were watching me from the concourse observer deck. Judging from the snide sounding mutters from the custom desks they probably taking bets if I would go through with it or not.
Hell, it was a bet that got me in this mess to start with. All I'd done was ask Mary out on a date. I have to give it to her that she didn't just laugh in my face. Instead, in front of our friends no less, she'd made a bet. If I went through to the Wild Side, she would pay off with a date. You don't want to know what would happen if I chickened out. I shuddered just thinking about it.
Gathering my courage, I walked through the Gate.
It was really anti climatic. The Gate was just a metal framework and that was all. No shimmering effects, electrical arcs or any other Hollywood special effects need apply. To detect the energies involved, you needed a top notch physics lab and a room full of PhD's to decipher the results.
There were only garish warning signs that perhaps didn't say abandon all hope ye who enter here, but sure seemed like it.
One step on good old Mother Earth and the other was, well … somewhere else.
What stopped me in my track was that I was someone else too.
That was the thing about the Wild Side that the first accidental visitors learned the hard way. It was a completely different universe that had its own laws, and wasn't about to let a few illegal human immigrants get away with squat. You would fit in, end of line.
Everyone called it the 'adjusting.' That's where the Wild Side's Laws of Nature remade you to fit into her idea of what was right, and believe you me she had a hell of a sense of humor.
The Elves at the Wild Side's custom check-in, simply grinned at my discomfort. They had seen it all working here. After all they knew who was left to transit the Gate.
Going the other way, Wild Side, okay they didn't call it that, but very few humans could pronoun it right, the Elves, Goblins, Brownies and what all the other denizens of our neighboring universe always got changed into humans. Returning home they were transformed back into their old selves, mostly.
If Wild Side had taught any rule, it was that there was always an exception.
One of the photographers working the concourse snapped a pic of me standing there stunned. There was a fair number of tourists on both sides that passed through and went right back home thank you very much. They had their walk on the Wild Side and that was more than enough. However, it did allow photographers on both sides to make a very good living.
Alright, a part of my brains that wasn't frozen, that's cool. I needed that as proof I made it here anyways.
The tall elf carrying the old fashioned camera grinned, “Come on doll, show me some choppers.”
Dream-like I wandered to one of the mirrored walls. How did a poor starving male college student translate in to this?
The Adjusting could do a real number on humans. You name it. The Wild Side was home to just about any of the races Earth had long believed to be nothing but myths. Goblins, Brownies, Trolls, and the list went on and on.
In front of me was your standard elf. Tall, slim, and pointed ears, you know the drill. Not too unusual, but the problem was the two breasts that were clear clues I wasn't back home anymore. The very revealing dress dripping in jewels made that damn clear. The carefully piled high silver hair and long manicured painted talons said this was a woman who nurtured her beauty.
That's right. I was one hell of beautiful elf woman. Since when did the Adjusting include a sex change? I whispered to myself, “What did you call a female elf anyways.”
A soft voice next to my cheek answered, “That would be morwyn, oh fair one.”
Jumping back from the intrusion, I turned to face him. Yes, him because if I was beautiful, so was he. The second that thought hit me I started cursing Mary, bets and my own stupidity.
He was also an elf, but was so tall I had to tilt my head up to meet his sky blue eyes. Unlike me, he was dressed in Earth fashions that had survived the Wild Side's stern ideas of what was and what wasn't appropriate. His t-shirt and blue jeans was so tight and snug even paint-on couldn't do them justice.
“More-wind?” I mispronounced, trying to keep from staring at him. Not gay, I'm not gay, I told myself.
“Morwyn,” he corrected me, his silvery smooth voice sent tingles all over me.
“Let me introduce myself,” He said, “My use name is Owen and I'm a curious traveler like you.
“Errr, I'm John.” My face turned red as my tongue stumbled over itself. The curious were those like me who just wanted to experience the Adjusting. Then it was back home as fast as we could go, bragging like little kids who had dared to stop over that forbidden line.
“That's a male name, is it not?” Owen asked still smiling.
My face burned red. I didn't have to look into the mirror to know I was blushing madly.
“You've received a great gift.” He took my hand and brought to his lips.
Powerless, I let him having no strength to resist. “W, wh, why would you say that?” I stuttered, trying to remember to breathe.
“For The Lady has bestowed such beauty upon you, mine eyes are blinded by your brilliance.” The tingles turned into an electric-like shock that traveled up my arm as he kissed my fingers. The entire time his eyes never left mine.
“I, I, I, have to go.” I tried to recover my traitorous hand, but his gentle touch imprisoned me. “My friends are waiting.”
The Photographer stood patiently by with the pictures he'd taken. That restored enough of my willpower to make me reach for my wallet to pay him. However, lacking pockets, I was at a loss until I found the silk purse hanging from my belted waist.
Again his soft touch robbed me of my senses.
“Please, Sioned.” He said. “I insist.” Owen dropped a coin into the photographer's hand who bowed respectfully and then hurried away. “All that I ask is that I be allowed to keep one to remind me of this moment.”
All I could do was nod numbly.
“As for reuniting with your companions,” He pointed up at the line of clocks that more or less kept track of how fast or slow time passed between Earth and the Wild Side. “We're behind today, so a few hours here is only a few minutes back on your home.”
I had to stop and make my addled wits do the math.
“Please,” Owen asked as smooth as silk, “Let me show you my home.” He waved his hand meaning his world, I guessed.
His eyes looking into mine, he whispered, “Your friends stayed behind, but you bravely stepped forward, Sioned. Reap the reward.”
Hardly trusting my voice, I croaked, “Sioned?”
“This is a different world, one of magic and great mysteries.” Again he sent tingles though me from the tips of my still blushing elvish ears to the bottom of my toes. “Your true name has power, and Sioned has the same meaning making a suitable use name for you. Besides, such a beautiful morwyn deserves an equally beautiful name.”
I'm a man damn it! This can't be happening to me. I'd heard of the magic that is all part of the Wild Side, but there were rules and treaties protecting tourists and others like me. Surely he wouldn't be so bold as to enchant me right here in the concourse?
He must've seen my suspicions in my eyes. He'd certainly been looking within them long enough!
“You wound me, Fair one.” He said, but I saw he was still smiling. “I'm using no spell or binding upon you. If anything it is you who have bound me with only your presence.”
Damn it! I was blushing again. As much as I wanted to flee for my life for the safety of a saner universe, I couldn't deny I was enjoying this too.
Yeah, sure he was trying to seduce me, but never back home had anyone given me any mind at all. To have Owen here, regardless of how goofy his lines, give me all his attention, it felt good.
He must've seen my hesitation.
“So Sioned, will you take flight back to your friends who were afraid to take a chance or take a walk on the Wild Side with me.” He grinned.
I suddenly understood what a devilish glint meant now.
“So you've been setting me up for that line all along haven't you?” I laughed as he shrugged expressively.
Owen held out his hand for me.
I took it.
Ten hours later
I took a deep breath resisting the urge to pat myself down. There was no need. I was home. The fine case Owen had provided my pictures had translated into a leather portfolio. Not able to help myself I had to look back. Damn if part of me wanted to run back, but I knew that was for now impossible. He had his life and I had mine.
“What happens in the Wild Side stays in the Wild Side,” He whispered to me after our last kiss stealing the famous line from Vegas. That didn't make it any less true.
Passing back through customs was easy. Nice though they were, the pictures and case were well below the imports limits. It was those things that made through the 'Adjusting' intact that were near priceless.
Checking the clocks, only ten minutes had passed here, but apparently that was enough for my so-called friends to grow bored. I actually saw them walking to their car. If I ran I suppose I could've caught them, but why bother?
Mary and her pettiness had become far less interesting now.
Waiting for the bus, I watched others head into the Gateway terminal. Right then and there I made a promise to myself, smiling. Someday I too would again walk the Wild Side.
Sometimes a walk on the Wild Side can change your entire life. Introducing a new character, Amy.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
“Four on the Floor!” Her Dad exclaimed popping her chair up into a wheelie just like he used to do when she was a kid. However, she wasn't eight anymore and the old routine fell flat.
Besides, Amy was none too sure about any of this, but kept quiet. She'd made her peace some time ago. It was better to live each day to the max instead of chasing dreams that promised everything, but gave nothing.
The disease that wreaked her body was slowly killing her and had no cure.
Her Mom changed the towel that kept her from drooling on herself. Oh and let's not forget that along with killing her it ripped any shred of dignity from her while it was at it.
No, she hadn't fallen to self-pity, but things were what they were. Maybe in 15 or 20 years there would be a cure, but not today or even tomorrow. It went without saying it would be too late to help her.
Then came the Gates.
Really Amy hadn't paid the discovery any attention. Walking other worlds meant little when you couldn't even wipe yourself.
What followed was the thing she dreaded the most.
Hope
Not that it bothered her, but because of what it did to her parents. Amy loved them dearly, but they drove her crazy grasping for one long shot cure after another.
You had better believe the Wild Side came with plenty of those. The most obvious was immigration. She was completely uninterested in a world where all the necessities of life were unavailable. What, no I-pod, TV, or anything that ran on electrical power? It was the neat doodads that let her roam the internet and had given her a kind of freedom had kept her from going crazy trapped in her dying body. And they wanted her to give all of that up? Pleasssse!
The whole 'adjusting' into another species didn't do much for her either. She just wanted to be normal on the planet in which she was born. Was that too much to ask?
Besides, you had to have some way of supporting yourself 'over-there' and her parents were just as technology addicted as she was.
It wasn’t that they were geeks or nerds or anything like that, but the Magic Kingdom didn't have much need for mechanics or network administrators.
Carla the Gate attendant who was helping them, given Amy's special needs, cheerfully warned, “You're ready to roll? We'll be ready in just a minute, so let's move closer to the door.”
Because of those same needs they'd been allowed the use of the VIP lounge. Looking out of the windows, she could see these flatbed cart things that rolled on a small railroad track. A bunch of them would just appear out of nowhere rolling down the track and then a forklift would hook up and drag them outside.
She could see it was carefully timed so the Gate was always busy. While the cargo guys were doing all of that, the attendants shoved the people traffic though them. Keeping things running smoothly looked to be a serious job.
Then it was their turn. In a way, the Gate was a serious let down. It was only this large circular metal framework with all kinds of cables running to it. There were no arcs of electricity or any other kind of special effects at all. There was just a lot of warnings and danger signs that another world was only a step away.
She was in her old push chair today since nothing electric worked over there, but it still bugged her to be dependent on her Dad. Practically an invalid, every last bit of independence she had was jealously guarded. However, they been warned that her chair would 'adjust' to something else and it might not change back coming home to Earth.
That would not be good seeing how much it cost and the independence it gave her. Never very girly she'd always had a thing for going fast. Lacking the ability to walk or run made it even more exciting for her.
Besides, Dad had customized that chair making look more like a hot rod. Watching the races on the tube was one of their special things. Yes, she was a speed junkie. To go fast was good. To go faster was better!
Reaching that line that warned of no return, Carla chivvied, “Move along! You don't want to be here when the Ogres start throwing cars down the line!”
And then Amy was stumbling forward disoriented by an unexpected gain in height and weird sensations in her legs. Hey, she was walking!
Trying to follow Carla, and get the hang of this walking thing, something felt all wrong. Glancing down, her mouth dropped open.
Holy Crap! She was a horse!
Okay, Amy reasoned. She still had arms and hands so maybe not a horse. A little freaked out, she looked for her parents, but only saw this couple who were staring right back at her. Sort of delicate looking, they were small, barely coming past Carla's waist. Their rich milk chocolate tan had to mean they were Brownies.
“Amy?” the tanned woman asked disbelievingly.
“Mom?” She answered, but the deep voice that came from her had her blinking in near shock.
A smiling Elvish Carla led them to a mirrored alcove in the passengers' concourse. Amy's mouth was still open gaping at herself.
From the waist down she was a horse. You know, four legs, hoofs, and a gleaming brownish red coat complete with a long flowing tail.
It was her top half that had her doing the fish imitation. Tanned, but not so much as her Brownie parents, she had brown curly hair. Her torso was nicely muscled with well defined six-pack abs. However it was the red beard that really shocked her.
She was a guy!
Touching the beard, it was a really weird sensation having her face covered by hair. On the other hand, it was nice to have full control of her, well, his body. Thinking that his beard was the same color as his horse's tail, he twisted around to check.
Yep, that was a boy horse alright!
“It's me.” Amy said half amazed. Wow, this was messed up, but she thought she rather liked it. When your choices are half-horse or invalid, the horse wins every time.
This also kinda sucked; too, since they were only taking a 'walk on the Wild Side' they really didn't have visas. It was a courtesy thing where you could get a taste of what the Wild Side might do to you, but you had to stay in the Gate terminal. They couldn't stay.
Carla must've seen the look on his face.
“Come with me, Amy.” The attendant beckoned. “I think I can find you a little more space.”
Leading them to an outside door, it opened out onto a cargo overflow area. In the distance she could see those huge guys, Ogres, shoving those truck sized loads around like they were shopping carts.
Whatever it was this was a place where he could run!
A little clumsily at first, Amy cantered but after gaining some confidence he ran for all he had. Slowing at the end of the field, he sprinted back, lost in the sense of strength and speed this body had.
He still wasn't too sure about this changing species thing. Okay, Amy had some serious problems with it, but he was willing to admit it had its advantages.
He was running!
However it wasn't long before that 'changing species' thing reared its head as he found out what 'peeing like a horse' really meant. The damn thing was like a water-hose!
Then all too soon, it was time to go back.
The whole time his parents sat there in the shade holding hands grinning happily at his antics, but now Amy could see their apprehension. This was the part of this whole thing that they'd been waiting for. They'd pinned all of their hopes on impossible odds.
Just every now and then an Earther doesn’t change back to the same person which had left. For those with disabilities and/or diseases that meant they came back cured. 'Cross-Adjusting' he remembered it was called. Researching it before they'd left, the chances were so long it was difficult to call them.
Taking a deep breath, he ran one last time. It didn't matter. Running on his own legs, all four of them, he held out his arms as if flying. Living one day at a time was the only way.
Standing before the Gate, he thought about the freedom the Wild Side offered. No crippling disease killing you and chaining you to a metal chair. However, while he didn't know much about horses, he did know they didn't live as long as humans. He would not go chasing after every chance for another few years.
Stepping forward as Carla waved them on, he had no regrets.
Amy half-expected to be rolling, but no he was still walking! Hey, it'd worked!
Touching his still bearded face, still a guy too. Only this time he had two legs which frankly was a relief. Being half-horse was interesting, but he wouldn't want to stay that way permanently.
His parents were back to normal and staring at him. Carla leading them back the concourse gave him time to glance into a mirror.
Wow, Amy looked just like his dad when he'd been younger. Despite how thick it felt it was just the usual scraggly teenage boy peach fuzz. Thinking about it, she was okay with that.
However, that wasn't the real question was it?
“Mom, Dad, are you okay with this?” He asked concerned.
“Honey, you're alive. You can walk!” Mom broke into tears hugging him.
“Better a live healthy son, than a dead daughter.” His Dad said a little too huskily trying not to cry.
“Well, I guess that means you'll be teaching me to drive a stick. Four on the floor, right? Amy grinned.
They all broke into laughter and tears.
Since she gotten her electric scooter
Sometimes you walk the Wild Side, but sometimes the Wild Side comes looking for you!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Along at last, I removed my photos from their hiding place. The first was that of a beautiful Elvish woman, a morwyn. Her piled high hair held in place with jeweled combs is so platinum blond it's like gleaming silver wire. She's dressed in a fall of green shimmering silk and more jewels that still managed to accent every curve despite her slender form. What perhaps is out of place is her expression of utter surprise and shock.
Smiling at the memory, I look at the next one. While the first one was taken in the Gate terminal, even Elves could only do so much to make such a place inviting, this one was taken in the Market Place. The same morwyn is here too, but she's lost her surprise and replaced it with wide-eye wonder.
She's also been joined by a tall Elven man, a dyn, who although he shared her same slim build, there was no doubt he was masculine with his Earth styled t-shirt and tight jeans showing off his runners' physique. In the picture, he, Owen was showing her a native fruit, a mefus, which although kinda like a strawberry was pure tart sweetness. It also cost an arm and leg on Earth being one of those things that could be imported without being 'adjusted' by traveling between universes.
I took a long slow deep breath knowing which one came next.
It was the same pair again, but this time they were in a kiss that couldn't be described other than passionate.
Like every time before, I tented my jeans requiring some 'rearranging' to make things comfortable again. And yet again, I was acutely embarrassed about my reaction. I was guy damn it!
I lowered my head, banging it softly on the table.
Earlier that day.
On the way, back to my dorm room, I got jumped by Angel and Kimmie. “Hey John,” The multicolored haired Angel giggled, “How did you do?”
She took one arm while her partner in crime took my other. Kimmie might be on the short side, but she had more energy than room full of hyperactive first graders. “Yeah, how did your Sadistics test go?”
Even though my brains were thoroughly fried I managed to smile. “Statistics,” I corrected her. “And yes, I think I did pretty well.” She should know since she tutored me passed the bad parts. Art students and math are things that does not go good together. The good news were that was my last mid-term. All that was left was to pack up the rest of my stuff for Spring Break.
Winning that bet with Mary and not collecting on it was about the best thing to ever happen to me, at least socially. After my trip through the Gate, I realized that she and the rest of those I mistakenly thought was my friends were indeed having fun, but at my expense. As a starving student on a scholarship, I didn't need that kind of crap. I'd even photo-shopped a picture of a rather homely goblin to make it look a little like me. I am an art major after all. They got their jollies and picked some other poor smuck to bedevil.
However, that also earned me some cred with some of the other women on campus. For the first time in my life women started coming to me. I can't say I didn't take advantage of the situation, but I also didn't go crazy. I went on some dates and I think all involved had a good time. If there were any complaints they never reached my ears.
That was how I met Angel and Kimmie. Curious about the 'nice' guy, they kinda checked me out. I think we were all surprised when we hit it off. In fairly short order we started hanging together. Oh yeah, despite the speculation about threesomes, nothing like that ever happened. They did tease me about it a lot, but that was all it was. Like I said, they were partners, a couple as well as being my friends.
Now if they made a serious move, I would have to re-think my position, but their friendship was far too valuable to me to do something bonehead stupid.
“So still no Spring Break plans?” Angel asked leading me back to the dorms.
I had time to only shake my head no before Kimmie hit me from the other side.
“You could always come with us. We're heading to Key West.” She was nearly bouncing up and down from excitement.
“You could share our room.” Angel huskily added suggestively double-teaming me.
I stopped and looked hard at them as they put on their best angelic innocent faces.
“You're teasing me again.” I accused the pair of minxes.
Laughing, Angle held up two fingers. “Well, a little. We talked about it.”
Kimmie picked up the rest. “We think we can trust you to behave, and it would be fun to have you there with us. It'll be great!”
I had to laugh along with them, however. “I thank you both for thinking about me, but three would be crowd. However, if you two ever really do seriously considered more, please remember I'm clueless and just might need to be clubbed over the head.”
“Oh, that could be fun!” Kimmie cooed as Angel lightly punched me in the arm.
A couple of real party-animals passed us heading for their rides in the parking lot. “Spring Break here we come!” was their battle cry. They were in such a hurry, they almost ran down another dude wandering around as if lost. Probably just an off-campus boyfriend I figured or perhaps a brother here to pick someone up. As for the assholes, I have no idea why they were in such a hurry. Being here in Tampa, they were already close to the beaches.
The girls gave me hugs as they left on their own adventure. I didn't miss the glances as they departed. I have to admit I wondered more than a little about the possibilities. Que Sera Sera, I decided.
My roommate, Alan, had already departed leaving last night. It'd been nice to have the place to myself despite the crunch of having a mid-term in the morning. On the other hand, I didn't have any plans unlike the majority of my fellows. My pizza delivery job pretty much dried up when the campus was empty.
That was when I dug out my pictures. Yes, my pictures, pictures of me.
Sioned was what Owen had named me. It meant the same thing as my Christian name, John, blessed by Gawd. I'd been kissed by a man, well, a dyn anyways, and loved every minute of it. Besides I wasn't fooling myself for a second. If I had the chance to go back, I would be gone in a heartbeat.
That is disregarding it was Spring Break that is. Tampa was lucky in having a Gate terminal. Finding congruent areas on both worlds that were good locations was not easy. Sure the gross terrain mostly matched up in both universes, but what was prime real estate in one might not be so in the other.
Hey, trust me! The hunt for good sites was still going on. With good ole planet Earth in an economic 'down turn' having an entire other world open up for new markets was a gift from heaven. Sure some things got 'adjusted' into not so nice products, read that was worthless, but when they made it though....
Let me put it this way. Millionaires were being made and broken every day it seemed. No one knew just what would be a hot selling commodity, and then there were the luxury items. Christie's Auction House was doing one hell of a lot of business. An Elf doesn't think anything of putting 25, 50 or even a 100 years into weaving a rug. Add in the exotic patterns and themes, and you my friend have a priceless work of art.
And don't think the Elves aren't getting anything out of it either. They tend to magic their problems instead of building things. Need a new house? Let’s just take this young tree and convince it grow into a three bedroom, two bath bungalow. Sure it might take 20 years, but for an Elf that's no time at all. Saying they take the long view is not even coming close. Being introduced to mass-produced machined goods were a real eye opener for them.
As good as that was, the real consumers on The Wild Side are the other natives. Goblins, Brownies, and those were the ones off the top of my head. The former are nuts about licorice, and the later are crazy about Earth sports. I don't think anyone has a real idea of how many Brownie baseball leagues have popped up; think kid sized sports gear and a whole lot of it.
If anyone ever works out just how the 'Adjusting' decides what will and what won't pass, they'll be a billionaire. Some ideas on the subject seem reasonable, but just don't pan out in the real world. You know, like if it could be made in that world, then if should get a pass. My leather portfolio is very nice, but when Owen purchased it to hold my pictures, it'd been a light silk covered wooden case that I suppose did the same function.
That had been a work of art, while what had arrived back home with me was merely functional no matter how nice. Not that I would be getting rid of it.
There were … Memories.
I shook my head trying to clear it.
No, I couldn't go back because this was a prime holiday and the tourist traffic would be thick and heavy. The Tampa Gate having both a port and a major airport nearby stayed very busy. Even though the TSA had bent over double not wanting to alienate the world's newest trading partner, the Wild Side was still another 'nation' and you needed passports and visas to make the trip.
I breathed out. Just after I'd returned from my first time into the Looking Glass, I'd tried for a visa for Spring Break, but it'd already been too late. A quick day trip in the middle of the week during non-peak times, yes. Spring Break, no; Summer Vacation, no; Thanksgiving, yes, but then my family would kill me for being a no show. And let's not forget that I was on a scholarship and have to work, which cut out visiting during the week. I'm only half-kidding about the starving art student thing. Me and ramen noodles are old friends.
Even if I had somehow managed to get a visa, I would've still been broke. Just because I'd 'Adjusted' the first time into a morwyn with jewels hanging all over me, there was no guarantee that it would happen again. Yes, the odds were in my favor, but a sure thing, no.
The whole instant sex change thing, like what happened to me, was unusual enough, although those people who had gender problems had a greater chance of it happening for some reason. Well, according to what little research I was able to find online that is. However, occasionally it struck out of the blue too. Unless my family was keeping secrets, I wasn't inter-sexed or had any obsessions with women clothing or underwear so that applied to me.
I don't think my artistic bent counts. All the old great masters were men, and even today men dominate the art world although that is changing. On the other hand, just thinking about my family made me cringe. They would freak out. It was bad enough in their eyes that I was an artist which was why I was sending my own self to school.
It didn't even bear thinking about another of those very rare occurrences. Normally, you just changed back to you exactly as you had left. However, sometimes if a traveler had a sex change 'adjustment,' when they returned home they didn't change back! Oh sure they returned to human, but now they needed a certain marker changed on their ID if you know what I mean. As a matter of fact that was one of the very, very infrequent 'Cross-Adjustments' that hit travelers from Earth at all.
My family would freak!
Hell, according to sites I found online, there were even tours to the Wild Side hoping that happened. Mind you, it was still long odds, but when you're talking about stacking the deck with only those it was mostly likely to happen to anyways, the tours usually made at least one person's dreams come true.
Even with those odds, it seemed those tours were very popular. Many of the tourists 'adjusted' to the other gender anyways, they just didn't stay that way on the trip back. One quote had me scratching my head. “Better an ugly woman than a handsome man.” which was attributed to a Goblin woman who had immigrated to the Wild Side.
Taking a hard look at my photos, I sighed. The Wild Side was well named. Since my little walk I'd questioned much about myself that I had once taken for granted. Maybe I hadn't started checking out other guys, thank gawd for small mercies, but I had begun looking at how well women were dressed as much as at the girls themselves.
I'd researched the hell out this as best as I was able given all my previously mentioned obligations. With a Gate terminal right in Tampa, the university's library had a wealth of information about the subject. The problem was the Gate terminals weren't even a decade old yet which meant there was hell of a lot that no one knew.
Of course what I wanted to know was did my trip fundamentally changed who I was. People go back and forth though the Gates all the time and were physically changed by the 'adjusting.' Did that alter who they were on the inside?
It was almost a running joke that you never knew what the 'adjusting' would do to someone. One famous Hollywood leading man had 'adjusted' into about the ugliest Kobold anyone had ever seen, while a little known plus-sized model had become famous by writing a book, “I told you I was skinny on the inside,” after she'd became a slim Sylph.
It was tempting to say that your inner self was revealed, but other evidence appeared to contradict that. At any rate, after a visit to the Wild Side, everyone agreed that you were still you, and no personality alterations or mind control had taken place. About the only thing that I'd found that suggested differently still didn't help that much.
An artist that I greatly admired had 'adjusted' into a Troll. Rather than the embarrassment most people had after becoming the huge ungainly creature he'd laughed and called it wonderful. Returning home, his art had taken another direction with some of the most dazzling landscapes I'd ever seen. He'd explained it all by saying, yes, the 'adjusting' had changed him permanently by giving him insight into a part of himself he'd never knew existed before.
Had that happened to me? Was some part of me Sioned and always had been? Had that she been hidden within me all this time?
My navel picking at the meaning of life and my existence was interrupted by knocking at my door. Sliding my pictures out of sight, I yelled out, “Hold on. I'm coming!”
Opening the door, it was that guy the party animals had almost ran over. He was taller than me, and had the kind of face you expected to see on a actor or male model. The pricey name-brand t-shirt, jeans and cross-trainers gave lie to his casual look. They probably cost more than the one suit I owned.
Then I look up into his eyes.
Those very blue eyes that rivaled the sky itself.
“Hi, I'm...” He began.
“Owen,” we both said together.
He smiled obviously pleased that I'd recognized him.
I was less happy.
“You can't be here!” I exclaimed. My thoughts were racing at a million miles a minute. With everyone intent on their own Spring Break plans just maybe no one would connect him with me.
“Why not,” Owen asked, still smiling as I dragged him inside out of sight.
“How did you find me?” I demanded not even wanting to get into how flustered and confused my feelings were for him. Was it homophobia when it was your own attraction you were afraid of?
“Oh, it wasn't hard.” He said, taking my changing the subject in stride. “I asked for a copy of your visa from my side of the Gate. The difficulty was the journey from the terminal to here. Public-Transportation” He carefully enunciated the unfamiliar phase. “Is interesting, but I don't know how eager I am to repeat the experience.”
“So you just waltzed up and asked for confidential information, and they gave it to you?” Okay so I was a little upset.
“I did ask politely.” Owen defended himself.
My hard stare didn't encourage him to explain himself further.
“Okay,” I finally gave in. He wasn't going to say how he got his hands on my personal information. “Why are you here?”
“I come bearing a gift.” Owen's smile turned into a grin. “For Sioned.” He held out an envelope.
Taking it, I wasn't sure if I wanted to open it or not.
Finally under his hopeful expression, I sighed. Why the hell why not?
I had to blink a few times realizing just what I was holding. It was impossible!
“When I learned that you did not have a return visa despite having time available during Spring Break, I took the liberty of arranging one for you.” Owen crossed his arms pleased with himself.
Holding the visa in shock, I suppose he should. There was no way this was real unless someone with serious pull arranged it.
“Just who are you, Owen?” I demanded. “And don't tell me 'just a curious traveler' either! This took some serious clout.” I waved the stamped papers with their official seals.
“You don't like it?” He asked his smile fading a little. “I thought you would enjoy our time together more if we were on the Wild Side.”
“Yes, I do like it.” My rattled brains made it hard for me to think. “But that still doesn't explain why you're here much less why this gift!”
“Well, you see.” His smile kinda tilted on its side as it returned. “About a month ago I met this girl, and I can't get her out of my mind.”
I caught the accent he was trying fake as well as the movie line. That didn't help keep me from blushing. “In case you haven't noticed, 'Singin' in the Rain' doesn't work. It's sun-shining outside.”
Because most electronic gadgets didn't work on the Wild Side, older movies on real film did get past that universe’s high standards. At first they were the classic stuff, most of it not in very good condition, but the many races of the Wild Side ate it up. A lot of them had learned their English from those old films.
He just stood there.
Awww hell.
I grabbed the rest of my stuff that wasn't already packed up, stuffing it in my bags. There were things that I didn't dare leave in my room unattended for a week.
“Alright,” I announced, “I'm ready. I've just got to take this stuff to my car.”
Then I stopped, blushing again.
There was Owen flipping though the pictures of us, I mean Sioned, damn it. He did stop at the photo-shopped Goblin I'd passed off as my Wild Side alter-ego raising a brow in question.
I wanted to rip my pictures right out of his hands, but that would mean touching him. In no way shape or form was that going to happen. Okay, not on this side of the Gate at least. My feelings were so all over the damn place that I did not trust myself at all.
“That's the fake one I came up with to satisfy the bet and curiosity of those who weren't my friends after all.” Somehow I kept my voice steady.
Wordlessly, he tugged a locket out from underneath his t-shirt. With a flick, it opened revealing a morwyn I knew so very well, me.
Choking back a sob and tears, I really, really didn't trust myself now. I'm not gay. I'm not, damnit!
Owen's slight nod showed me he understood. Together, we lugged my baggage to my beat up old Taurus. It was the hand-me-down family car I got when my mom brought her new one, lucky me. The Ford still ran pretty good and had plenty of room for all my art supply boxes, easels, and all the other stuff an art student needs.
Not expecting a passenger, it took me a minute or two clean off the front seat. I kept dropping things and wondered if I was going to explode at any second. I was scared to death someone would see with me with Owen and put two and two together even though there was no reason why they should. At the same time the power of my feelings, which I didn't even want to give a name to, had me in near hysterics.
Then we were finally on the road. It took less than 20 minutes, and then it hit me. I had nothing prepared for a trip, and hadn't even let my parents know the change in my plans. I almost stomped on the brakes, the parking fees! If we were gone for anymore than few hours I wouldn't be able to get my car out of hock.
“What's wrong?” Owen asked after being quiet all this time. My alarm must be easy to see.
“I'm not prepared for any of this.” My hysterics were beginning to get the best of me. “I piled everything from my dorm room into here, for a trip back to my parents not for a Spring Break ...”
Owen's gentle touch almost made me jump right though the roof.
“It's alright. This is a vacation for me too. How do you say it? I have it covered. Just pull into valet parking,” He said soothingly.
“I want to carry my end of this trip.” Please Lord; don't let that come out as a whine.
“You forget.” He reminded me those eyes of his almost making me run off the road. “This is all a gift.”
Following the valet signs, I nearly slammed on the brakes again. “All of this is a gift?” I exclaimed. “I thought that was only the visa! I don't understand all of this!”
“Because this,” Owen touched his locket, “showed me that something happened when I met Sioned.” He took my hand. “Something that I think you felt as well. Because the Lady is having a jest at our expense, it is something best examined on the Wild Side rather than here.”
“Something, huh?” I couldn't deny that. “We don't know anything about each other, and I'm sure you know there is no guarantee you'll ever see her again. I could 'adjust' to a male Orc or Troll this time.”
“Then I'll have a wonderful vacation with my friend learning more about him and he about me.” Owen acknowledged, but I could tell that he didn't think that was going to happen.
Stopping for the valets, they gave my pie-bald old car doubtful looks, as I dug around in the trunk packing a small overnight bag. Grabbing my art satchel, I was ready. The last time I hadn't even taken a sketch pad with me, not this time.
Then my anxiety began again as I worried that someone would recognize me. It didn't matter how I lied to myself, I was almost painfully attracted to the dyn at my side. Just as an experiment, I looked, but none of the guys in the lobby packed with college age guys did anything for me at all. To my vast relief, the scantily clad women with them did.
Only Owen gave me reactions that defied what I believed about myself. Sigh, okay not completely, because I did look as much at their clothes as at the co-ed beauties.
He led me to the desk for returning Wild Siders. Flashing his passport at the woman at the desk he got instant attention. Damn the luck, but I was so distracted by my experimenting, I only got a glimpse at it. Weren't normal Wild Side passports green? Who in the world has gold ones?
Then we were escorted personally to the next cycle of Gate departures. The last time I'd been here the place had been empty with the exception of the always busy freight movers. Today, it was packed with those who wanted a Spring Break walk on the Wild Side. Monitors warned new visitors that the Wild Side wasn't Earth and things you had to watch out for.
Really, the Wild Side referred to the whole universe on the other side of the Gates. In general use, most used it for the world as well, but it really wasn't. With the Elvish name impossible for most human to pronoun most took the easy way out. However, since my last visit I'd learned calling it, or rather she Gaia wasn't a bad translation.
When our escort further guided us to a VIP lounge my curiosity got the best of me again.
“Owen,” I asked trying to be nice. “Just who the hell are you? And don't tell you're just a curious traveler again. We got bumped all the way to the front of the queue and now we're in a VIP lounge.” I found myself whispering since our escort was still around, passing out the usual accident disclaimer forms. You know the deal. Pregnant women shouldn't pass though a Gate, and you enter at your own risk or maybe I should say abandon hope all ye who enter here.
Of course Owen didn't need one, being a returning native, but I did, along with a stiff drink, a very stiff drink.
He hit me with that damn smile again. “But I am!” He protested, but then sneakily changed the subject. “Didn't you need to let your family know your change in plans?”
Sighing, I let our attentive escort show me to the phone. I even tried picking her brain, but there didn't seem to be much there to pick.
“Just another returning VIP,” was her bored reply.
Small blessings that no one was at home, so I just left a message some friends had invited me to go on Spring Break with them. That made me smile remembering Angel and Kimmie. My brains boggled at the very thought of them ever finding out about this. They would tease me to death! However if there was anyone on Earth at all I would trust with this it was those two.
Then it was time to go.
The efficient attendants had us and the other returning Wild Siders though the Gate ahead of the crowd as soon as the lights turned green. Since they in theory knew what to expect they wouldn't gawk at themselves like first timers would and hold up the line.
Owen guided me even as I stumbled a step or two dealing with suddenly being different. I didn't need to look, but I was dying to see anyways. His smile and eyes were sparkling so madly it was a sure thing, Sioned was back.
With only my two small bags, clearing customs was very fast, and before I knew it we were walking out the Wild Side Gate Terminal.
“Can we stop for a moment?” I asked, smiling.
Looking around to make sure we weren't blocking anyone, he said, “Certainly, Sioned.”
I think he took more than a little pleasure in saying that name, my name.
Putting my satchel down since he'd taken my overnight bag, I looked up at him comparing the human he'd been to the Elf he was now. Both were handsome and had that effect on me, but I knew which one I liked best.
“I've been dying to do this since you showed up at my door.” I hugged him as tightly as I could, enjoying without a shred of regret as his arms wrapped around me in return.
Burying his face in my hair, he whispered, “Me too, Sioned, me too.”
“So what now, Owen?” I softly asked.
“Well, the clocks show that we're running only a little faster than Earth now, about two to one.” He pointed out what I'd forgotten to check. “So we have about two weeks to learn about each other.”
“To find out what that something is all about?” I forced myself not to nuzzle him despite the temptation.
His blue eyes looking into mine, he answered, “Yes,” taking my hand into his.
Picking up my mostly unaltered art stuff, we walked outside where he hailed a carriage. No longer did I feel self-conscious about being with or touching him. Being with him felt good and right.
As he helped me aboard, helping me deal with my unfamiliar dress, I was happier than I could ever recall being. As the Goblin photographer hustling for a buck took our pictures, I made a promise to myself to make sure I went home with a veritable book full of photos and memories.
I made a start on them by giving my dyn a kiss at the flash. Hmmm...memories.
Long distance relationships are tough, but what do you do when whole worlds separate you from the one you love?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Charles Dickens.
I was beginning to understand the true meaning of what old Charley had in mind. Since my return from Spring Break, my art work had taken off. My instructors were very pleased with my passion they saw within the graphite, charcoal, and paint I smeared on canvas and paper.
It was as if I had something inside that just had to be let and released. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure I knew exactly what it was. That lead to that 'worse' of times part. It was love. When Roy, Nazareth and all the others sang that it hurts, scars, wounds, and marks, they had it all too right.
It scared the hell out of me.
It'd only been a month that we'd been apart, but it felt like an eternity. Gawd, I feel so damn silly saying that, but it's true!
Absentmindedly, I began pushing the food around on my plate knowing I needed to eat, but not having any appetite. All of that didn't even count the other discovery I'd made during those days of Spring. Unfortunately, it wasn't Owen's real identity. I only knew there was lot more to him than just a 'curious traveler.'
I nearly fell out of my seat as my friends Angel and Kimmie ambushed me sitting down their own trays of food. While my temporary popularity, after I'd snubbed Mary and her conies, had subsided, the two of them proved they were more than of the fair weather variety, sticking by me.
“So who is she?” Angel asked, causing me to look at her in surprise.
“Who?” I asked clueless, re-seating myself.
Kimmie was staring at my plate inclining her head one way and then the other.
“Her,” said she looking at my plate too. “Is she the one you've been mooning over since Spring Break?”
“Huh?” What were they talking about, and didn't they have their own food?
Then I look down.
Right there, made out of meatloaf, and mash potatoes with gravy was Owen's face. I have to admit it made me blink too. The likeness was actually pretty well done considering the media. I guess his fine Elven features could be mistaken for feminine.
My face flashed hot, blushing.
“You know,” Kimmie said, “That actually kinda looks like a guy.” Her hands leaped to her lips as she realized just what she'd let slip.
Her and Angel exchanged one of those, oh-my-Gawd, expressions, as my blush instantly vanished into deathly pale shock.
Without looking at a soul, I took my tray and dumped it all into a waste basket on my way out not paying Angel's “Wait!” any mind.
I was lucky, that for once Alan, my roomie, was off somewhere else. He wasn't bad as far as roommates went, but we weren't close either. Right now I needed, had to have, some privacy.
Almost as soon as I flopped down on my bed, the Girls were banging on the door. They must have been on my heels the whole way back to the dorms. As tempting as it was to ignore the knocking, this was the middle of the week. Many students were studying or just cooling out for the evening and wouldn't appreciate this disturbance whatsoever. Their complaints would bring someone to investigate and just escalate this entire thing.
I knew better than to think Angel and Kimmie would simply give up.
Fighting the stinging in my eyes, I threw open the lock. “Come in.” I turned my face away so no one could see the tears.
“John?” I heard the concern in Angel's voice. “What's going on?”
Kimmie simply sat next to me unusually silent for her.
All I could do was cry. Once they figured that out, they were both hugging me.
I kept hearing my Dad in the back of my mind, 'crybaby!' That didn't help the pain and hurt that I felt.
“You know, it's not a crime or sin to be gay,” Angel whispered as she held me.
I started to deny that, but talking was just too much. There was so much I wanted to express, but it was all jammed up.
“It's complicated.” I sighed, easing myself free.
“I know,” Kimmie replied. “My parents still try to set me up with men 'from good families.' They just don't get it.”
Getting up, I felt their eyes on me as I unearthed my carefully hidden album.
Opening it up for them to see inside, I sat down. “No, I mean really complicated.”
I didn't need to see all those photographic 'memories' of Spring Break. They were all in black and white because the Wild Side didn't allow digital cameras' or most kinds of electronics. Good old fashioned chemical developing helped along with a bit of Goblin magic helped make up the slack of instant photos since Polaroid had gone bankrupt years before the Gates opened. If the company could've held on just a little longer they would've been raking in money hand over fist, but who knew if you know what I mean. Maybe someone will reopen an assembly line for the color stuff or a Goblin will work out how to do instant 'color' magic.
Oh Gawd Spring Break! Those two weeks were the most marvelous time of my life! Owen took great delight in showing the city that although it sat on more or less the same ground as Tampa it was totally different.
Owen just laughed at me and my fascination with, well, everything! “It's all just one big, how do you say it, tourist trap for Earthers.”
I didn't care and enjoyed it all anyways. Of course being on the bay, it still had the beaches and all the other outdoor stuff to do. Of course Florida didn't have real live sea monsters which made little things like shark attacks seem trivial, but it didn't have actual mermaids either, so it all balanced out.
Kimmie was oohing and ahhing, over all the pictures. “Hey, it's Mr. Meatloaf.” She said recognizing Owen from my culinary sculpture.
Angel however got it first. “You just aren’t' the type to moon over yourself, so it really is this Elf guy that you've got it for so bad.” She stared at Sioned's image. “Oh my Gawd, you're this Elf babe!”
“John is a hot Elf?” Kimmie disbelievingly blurted out looking back and forth from me to the picture.
“See, she's even got John's drawing bag, see?” Angel's finger stabbed out at the incriminating article. “You lied to us,” She accused me. “You said you 'adjusted' into a Goblin.”
“A really ugly one too,” Kimmie added, finding the photo-shopped fake I'd made.
“That was for Mary.” I explained. “If I'd showed her Sioned, I would never heard the end of it.”
They looked at me questioningly.
“Sioned,” I said, as the tears threatened again, “is the name Owen gave me that first time I walked the Wild Side.”
“Most of those are from Spring Break when he came right here to my room with a Wild Side visa with my name on it.” I said. “Just the three in front are from the first visit because of the bet.”
“You went to the Wild Side for Spring Break?” Kimmie was definitely jealous. “Alright, we had a really great time in Key West, but the Wild Side?” She said as Angel gave her a hard glance. “How did he manage that?”
“I don't know!” I felt like howling my frustration. “He covered the whole trip, and we even got the VIP treatment. But he won't tell me anything! I know he has a gold Wild Side diplomatic passport, but every time I ask him who he is, he just says 'he's only a curious traveler.' I know there has got to be more to it, but I can't find out any thing. Even looking though pictures of the Royal Family didn't help. I didn't recognize any of them, but that doesn't mean anything since there are so damn many.”
“You really do have it bad.” Angel shook her head. “So you don't know who this guy is? Are you sure he isn't using a spell or something to take advantage of you?” She asked worried about me.
“I as sure as anyone can be.” Sighing, I explained, “Magic doesn't work here on Earth. Even if he cast a spell on me, once I got back here it would've broken.” I woefully added, “He's on my mind as much here as when I was on the Wild Side. I can't explained it. We just clicked together. He seems to be just as ...” I helplessly searched for the right word.
“In love, smitten?” Kimmie interjected.
“Obsessed,” Angel coldly countered.
Sighing, I shrugged. “I'm not gay. Even when he was here, I couldn't make myself touch him in that way.” Okay, I wasn't sure how much I was lying to myself about that. “When I'm Sioned it just feels so right.”
“You two haven't slept together have you?” Kimmie asked not shy at all crossing lines and taboos, as Angel stared at her partner again.
“No,” I answered, “But it has been a very near thing. We did do heavy petting.” Blushing again, I specified, “Only as Sioned though.”
“Have you considered that you might be Trans?” Angel asked the hard question.
“I don't know.” Hanging my head low, I remembered the day I returned to Earth after Spring Break. “I might be. When I walked back though the Gate this last time, I think I was hoping to 'Cross-Adjust.' After I didn't, getting used to being 'John' again felt like putting on a suit made of lead. Being Sioned is just so different I don't half-know how to explain it.”
“John,” Angel said, taking my hand. “I know a couple of the T-girls from the LGBT group here on campus. Some of them went though some really tough times. It's not weakness to seek help about something like this.”
Kimmie was still looking though my album her face screwed up in concentration.
I froze not able to even think about telling someone else about all of this.
“You know, I've seen pictures of Mr. Meatloaf before, but I just can't remember where?” Kimmie remarked.
“Do you have any idea of who he is?” I begged her.
“Sorry, but I don't.” Kimmie apologized. “I know it'll come to me, and I'll tell you.”
“So what is going on now that has you so upset?” Angel cut though the chaff like always. “He hasn't broken up with you has he?”
I shook my head no. “He's been writing me twice a week since I got back to school. However, there's no return address because it's always by courier who takes any letters I have ready to back to him.” I added a little peeved. “The courier nor the company will tell me anything!”
Kimmie perked up hearing that.
It was my turn to stare at her. “No! I'm not going to let you read them!”
“Awww,” she pouted which made Angel giggle.
“So he's sending you love letters,” She turned serious again, “and its almost Summer so what is it?”
Damn this was hard!
“He's invited me back for the Summer.” I replied in a near whisper.
“Hey, that's great. You really like him, and it sounds like he's crazy about you.” Kimmie grinned, but it faded as she saw my face. “Isn't it?”
“That's not the problem.” I finally said. “Each time it gets harder and harder to leave him and come back here. Then there's the whole being Sioned thing. I've never been one of the popular guys. There was that brief time after I dropped Mary, but I think the girls were really just curious about what they heard about me. You two were the same way. Not really interested in a relationship; just wanted to know more about the guy who wised up about Mary.”
It hurt trying to find the words to express myself. Like lancing a boil to let the bad stuff out, more pain had to come before the relief.
“I enjoy being attractive. It's nice to be able to wear clothes that feel so sensuous and good.” My eyes closed recalling the sensations.
“You said coming back was like putting on clothes made of lead,” Angel repeated my earlier words.
I nodded. “I could express myself without worrying about the whole macho image thing. I could just be me.” I took a deep breath. “If I go back, I'm afraid I won't be able to make myself return. You know immigrate,” I said in a very small voice.
Kimmie stared at me in disbelief, but Angel snorted obviously unhappy with me.
“I thought about it a lot.” Not meeting their eyes I tried to explain my reasoning. “To immigrate. you have to prove you can support yourself. I have my art which I can do either on Earth or the Wild Side without a problem.”
“John!” Angel raised her voice, “You've got another year before you finish your degree. You can't just drop out.”
I hanged my head again, “I know and I don't even know if Owen is as serious as I am. It just hurts so much sometimes!”
Touching my arm, Kimmie asked, “I know I seem like a ditz sometimes, but is it John or Sioned?”
That stopped and made both me and Angel think.
“Well?” Angel inquired curious.
“I don't know.” Sighing, I shook my head. “I never thought about it. Sioned is just the girl me.”
The two jumped me again.
“Sioned or John we're here for you.” Kimmie hugged me.
Angel dug around in her purse. “Here is Andrea's card. She's a therapist who works with the LBGT group on campus. You can trust her. She's good people.”
I hesitated taking it.
“You're thinking about making a huge life decision.” Angel was being the practical one again. “You really need to talk to her about this.”
Then Kimmie got me below the belt with her big puppy eyes. “Please promise us you'll see Andrea?”
Taking a deep breath, I knew they had me. “I promise.”
Two days later, here I am skipping lunch to see the shrink. My Dad always said that a man took care of his own problems. That a real man didn’t need anyone to tell him what his hangups were, he just took care of it. Remembering that made me smile.
It was my realization that maybe I wasn't any sort of man at all that had bought me here.
“John Lane?”
Standing up, I saw an older woman smiling as she walked to me. “Hi, I'm Andrea.”
Okay, maybe she wasn't that old, but she did project a calm welcoming that reminded me of a wise grandmother.
“Hmmm..., I'm John,” I replied giving away my nervousness. “Thanks for seeing me so fast.”
Closing her office door behind us, she motioned to to sit, “That's why I'm here.” She kept smiling. “College life can be stressful and is a time of discovery. Sometimes, everyone needs a little help working though 'stuff.'” Her hands waved in the air, her infectious smile coaxing a small one from me.
“So what do you want to talk about?” Andrea asked.
“Hmmm...., this is kinda hard so please bear with me,” I stuttered self-consciously. I'm having doubts about myself and who I am.” Half-expecting her to say something I stopped, but she only waited for me to continue.
Blushing, I began, “It all started with me asking this girl, Mary, to date.”
Dear 'O'
I can't tell you how I miss you. It's as if a part of myself is missing. Gawd, that sounds so sappy when I read it, but that's how I feel. It's always good to get word from you and I'm starting to understand how it was in the old days when you couldn't instantly text or call anyone you wanted. I can't even email you! This really is snail mail!
I enjoyed hearing about your trip to Paris. Is it really true that the Wild Side there is building their own Eiffel Tower? Your description of that traffic snarl with the wrecked carriages with the Goblins and Ogres yelling at each other in French and Elvish had me LOL. (Laughing out Loud!)
As for me, my friends, Angel and Kimmie finally got the truth from me. I showed them the pictures we took during our trip. Not knowing you, they are concerned about me although I told them they have nothing to worry about.
Unfortunately, I will admit that I'm becoming more confused and uncertain about my future. Growing up, I had always knew I would become an artist. My pictures and paintings would hang in museums and galleries while I wore one of those funny little berets.
Perhaps that part hasn't changed, but all the rest has. I know I never saw any of this coming. It is very unsettling to discover that you're not who you thought you were. However, as much as it has caused me so many sleepless nights, I wouldn't alter a thing. It's like I've been wearing dark glasses my whole life, and now with out them, I can really see.
On my friends' advice, I've begun seeing a therapist here at school who is familiar with such feelings. She's helped me look at all of this with different eyes and think it has helped.
Just so that you know, the incident you told me to keep to myself has remained unspoken. If there are other matters that should also stay hidden then you need to inform me. As I told you O' Curious Traveler, I shall continue to search for your identity for I know that there is much more to you than you've told me.
Your Love
XXOO
'S'
When the one you love is from far away it's only natural to be curious. Join John as he investigates the Wild Side!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
“Relax!” Angel poked me giving Kimmie a chance to steal another French fry. It was a mark of how uncomfortable I was with letting yet another person in on my secret. We were in public, but they both assured me that in the always noisy campus cafeteria no one would notice.
Andrea was exactly as the girls had described her. Not once did she judge me or try to talk me out of anything. She did point out a few things I'd perhaps had overlooked. One of those was ignorance. I really didn't know a whole lot about the world I was thinking of immigrating to. My experience so far was like someone who'd only been to Vegas suddenly declaring they loved America and had to move there!
Just firing up the computer and Googling had its limitations too. One of those was this was an entirely different world. Like my World History professor said, 'If you wanted to study modern America you had to start with the societies that had influenced its development. All you had to do was look at DC to see influences from Rome, Greece, and even Egypt, ie the Washington Monument, which really resembles an Egyptian obelisk. So now to know about America, we were studying Roman, Greek, and Egyptian history and that wasn't counting all the countries that immigrants had left to flock to the land of the free over the last 200 plus years.
Andrea suggested I talk to someone who wasn't happy about the Wild Side and a woman's role there. It happened that Angel and Kimmie knew the person she had in mind. He was also a trans-man. While I felt more comfortable as a morwyn, Chuck was just the opposite. Needless to say I was more than a little nervous about meeting him. I hadn't known there were any exchange students on campus from the Wild Side, much less transgendered ones, but I really hadn't thought about it.
Munching on my fries, in triumph, Kimmie admonished me, “Oh you! Chuck is nice. He doesn't bite.” Then she got a thoughtful expression. “Or maybe he does!” She closed her eyes in mock delight causing Angel to roll her eyes and smack her.
Laughing and rubbing her arm, Kimmie alerted us. “There he is.” Waving her arms, she shouted, “Hey Chuck! Over here!”
Waving back was the very example of the tall dark and handsome college age male. Just like with worrying a sore tooth I had to see if I felt any attraction, but once again for the umpteenth time, thankfully, no.
It was Owen who held my heart.
“What's up, Angel, Kimmie.” He greeted my friends with a deep baritone rumble. Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself. “I'm Chuck.”
Unlike some guys, he didn't try and break my hand, but there was no doubt he made sure I knew he could. It was just another thing that added more plus marks to the feminine side of the tally.
That was another one of Andrea's suggestions. I started keeping, a journal, alright I admit it, a dairy, of what I liked or disliked about masculine and feminine things. So far the feminine side was way ahead.
“So you're the one who wants to know about the truth about the Wild Side.” His dark eyes looked me over. “Say, aren't you're the one that dumped that shank Mary over that bet to skip though the Gate?” He asked recognizing me.
“Yes,” I nodded. “That's what started all of this.”
“I'm also guessing you faked that picture that was floating around of your 'avatar.'” Chuck said, thoughtfully.
“How did you know that?” I asked him.
He grinned showing his perfect white teeth. “Because, it was Andrea who asked me to speak to you. Everyone knows she does the counseling for the LBGT's on campus. If you were trying to hook up with Mary then you were straight, but must have gender-jumped going through the gate.”
“And believe me, I know Goblins,” Chuck said coldly. “That was picture was a gent's. Therefore, you faked it. I can't blame you either. That Mary is a real piece of work. She must've been big back on the block in high school, but here she's just another pretty face.”
“So how come you know so much about Goblins,” Kimmie asked. Trust her to be tactful, not!
“Because I was one,” Chuck answered with any hesitation. “Here, let me put it to you this way. Goblins were the foot-soldiers back on the Wild Side during the Wars. They are tough, vicious, and can live off of just about anything including each other. They have magic, but it's like knacks in having only one to three spells they do really well at any one time. Think of it like being magical idiot savants, but that gave the armies enormous flexibility letting them do things like march twice as far, or walk across unfordable rivers.”
“How does that work?” Angel asked curious. “Do they just forget how to do the old magic spells?”
Chuck smiled, as if he'd answered this question before. “It's not that hard really. Think of magic as having a head for advanced mathematics. The real mages never have a problem remembering formulas or coming up with new equations to solve previously unknown problems. Most people can work the formulas if they have it right in front of them. However if they don't use it, recalling just how it went isn't so easy. It's like some people can remember numbers, and some can't.
“Goblins,” Chuck grinned, “can remember pretty damn well. They just can't come up with the spells themselves. For that you need a real mage, and that means a Pointy Ear.” Those last few words weren't spoken kindly.
“Is there something wrong with Elves?” I asked curious about his reaction.
Chuck studied me a while before replying. “No, but being at the top is a hell of a lot different from being on the bottom.”
“On the Wild Side,” Kimmie surprised us by answering me. “The Elves are the aristocrats. They're the movers and shakers over there.” She smiled sweetly, “Business major, remember?”
“You got that right.” He agreed. “Because they live so long and have magic coming out of their asses, they're the ones in charge. Goblins, Brownies, Trolls, and all the rest are followers.”
“Is it so bad, on the Wild Side if you're not an Elf?” I was beginning to worry that all Elves were evil tyrants even though Owen had never showed me any attitude like that.
“Look at it this way,” Chuck explained. “A Goblin matures a hell of a lot faster than even a human. Puberty starts around eight and they're considered mature at 10. At best they will live to be 40 with 30 being the average. Gestation for a Goblin is only six months and they can give birth about once a year, but multiple births are the rule usually with 2 to 3 brats at a time. That means a female Goblin can bear as many as 60 would be soldiers during her life.” He glared at us.
“Would any of you want to go though that?” He folded his arms having made his point. “As a human, I'll live to a ripe old age to maybe 70 or more. Plus, being a man suits me. I never fit in where I was unlike most Goblins. If the truth be told, I'm sure everyone was glad to get rid of me. I asked too many questions.”
“If it's that terrible over there,” Kimmie asked, “Why aren’t there uprisings and revolutions?”
“Because they're made to obey,” He chuckled. “Haven't you ever wondered why there're so many humanoid races on the Wild Side?”
“That's a good question.” Angel inclined her head giving it thought.
“Because if you go back far enough each and every one started off as human.” Chuck grinned at our disbelief. “The story from the Wild Side is that at one time it and Earth were more or less exactly the same except for one small thing.”
“Magic.” Angel's eyes narrowed as she worked it out.
“You got it in one,” He congratulated her. “Or perhaps the better answer is a lot more magic because at one time both worlds has legends that can be best explained by travelers between them. There are such things as natural atomic reactors so maybe there were natural Gates too. Something changed which might have been Earth losing the rest of what little magic it had. In any case, it caused the 'Adjusting' or maybe it was a visa-versa situation. I don't think we'll ever know for sure.
“What we do know is that one Wild Side group became very powerful in magic and began calling themselves Gods. Still being human despite their power, they were flawed and warred among themselves. They conquered and altered all those they ran across. Elves were their generals and elite soldiers. Goblins were the expendable cannon fodder. Brownies were their craftsmen and support people. Dwarfs were their miners and metal workers, and the list goes on and on.”
“They used magic to genetically specialize humans for specific roles like insects?” I blurted out distastefully. Despite my own rather positive brush with the arcane, that I couldn't talk about, using people in that way smacked of Mengele evil to me.
Chuck nodded, “Yes they did and not just humans either. Killer Willows, Bullet Wasps, Silver Fins, and most of the other dangers on Wild Side are genetically altered plants, insects, and animals for war. Most seem to think it was really all a big game to the 'Gods' since they nearly never fought each other directly. It was just the rest of world doing the bleeding and dying.”
Kimmie's “Ewww” spoke for all of us.
“It was the Elves that rebelled wasn't it?” Angel surmised.
“Yes it was.” He answered. “You got it right again. They might have called one side the Dá¶kká¡lfar, the Dark and the other the Ljá³sá¡lfar, the Light, but they were still Elves on different sides or not.
“You see the turning point was that while their masters might not have gotten their hands dirty, the Pointy Ears did. Being at the sharp of the stick they did die and with their very long lifespans had the dubious pleasure of seeing sons, daughters, brothers, sisters and what have you die over the course of the ten thousand years of the War. And not all of the Gods were happy with the all the fighting either.” Chuck admitted unwillingly.
“The Lady was always their patron no matter what side they fought on.” He continued. “For the rest of the races, it was a case of Mom liking your big brother better kind of thing. She's never been hostile to any other of the other races, but the Elves were always her favorites.
“With her help, the other would-be Gods fell hard and fast. That's not to say there weren't wounded and casualties on both sides. I think the truth of the matter is most of them didn't care to have their own butts on the line. At any rate, the rebellion ended the Wars. Not that it made anything easy.” Chuck sighed.
“There were entire races that had never known anything but war and fighting. Plus while exceptional individuals in the other races proved to be leaders it was more like talented sergeants. All the Generals were Elves with more practical experience and skill than Sun Tzu could ever dream of. The pacification took a few hundred years and there's still bad blood about it. There was also the bitter fact that the Dark and Light Elves had been fighting each other for so long that all of them had lost loved ones to each other.” Chuck shook his head sadly.
“The Queen of Light and the King of the Dark split the world up between them. The Light lost the draw and got what is the Americas on Earth while the Dark kept the rest. Australia became the penal colony for all of those who for one reason or another refused to abide by the peace.”
“You have no idea of how humorous some of us find it that the English used it for the same purpose.” He shook his head. “No one goes down-under if they value their lives. Perhaps it’s more like that movie 'Escape from New York' except it's an entire continent.
“The real point is the Queen still remembers a son lost because of the Dark King who in turn lost his own blood kin to the Light.” Chuck grimaced. “That's the true cost of living so long. Everyone else is hostage to things only they recall.”
“So they're all tyrants?” I wanted to know really troubled about all of this.
“Not an easy question.” He said, “Just as the other races are programmed to obey, more or less, Elves are designed to be responsible.” Chuck got an unpleasant expression. “Good ranchers always take care of their breeding stock. Although to be fair it was a situation they got handed rather than created, but it is what it is.”
“So what's the deal with you?” I asked. “I'm not trying to be rude but you don't fit what you've told us.”
“Yes, he does,” Angel objected to my statement. “He told us already, exceptional individuals.”
“The lady gets it right again,” Chuck grinned at us. “Are you sure I can't change your mind about dating?”
Kimmie gave him a vicious glare. “You change your mind about wanting to be a eunuch?”
We laughed as he held up his hands in surrender, “Just kidding!”
“But she did get it right.” Chuck went on keeping an eye on Kimmie. “Sure most Goblins are more loyal than smart, and Trolls and Ogre's aren't the smartest chips in the woodshed.” He paused, “On average.”
“I suppose it's because of having human genes somewhere in their ancestry even though some of the races can no longer breed together anymore.” Chuck explained. “There are those born who are brilliant by anyone's standards, but the specialization that has been forced on us are worse than any caste system. What makes it worse is there are far more of the 'sub-races' than Elves,” He made ditto marks in the air. “No one knows just how much potential is being lost.”
“That's also why no one on the Wild Side refused to have a Gate on their territory.” Chuck pointed out. “I might not care for Elves that much, but most of the honchos in charge understand how much the specialization has hurt them as a whole.”
“Just look around us,” he directed. It's been a good two thousand years since the rebellion, but how has the Wild Side done during that time? They had the advantages of magic and long lives beyond anything anyone on Earth could dream of.”
“Besides dealing with a few environmental problems left over from the War, things have stayed almost the same.” Chuck answered his own question. “In the same time, Earth has gone from using animal drawn carts to putting men on the moon. I'm not even going to try and cover all the knowledge mankind has gathered. In fact, it's on the edge of power as great as that the Gods achieved the hard way without the clutch of magic.”
I grabbed at a straw. “But you say at least some of the Elves know of the problem and are trying to fix it?”
He shook his head. “Knowing and being able to do something about it are two different things. The only way to really do it is something no one would dare, more genetic tampering. Everyone has had more than enough of that. If that's not enough all the real leaders on both sides are still having PTSD over events that happen thousands of years ago.”
“That's not to say the Wild Side is hopeless or helpless.” He sighed again. “After pointing out magic doesn't work on Earth they arranged a demonstration that I think you can still find on YouTube. using old fashioned film they proved just how dangerous an Elven archer with a few hundred years of experience under his belt could be. It was their way of keeping Earth honest by showing that bow and arrows could kill just as good as any gun. That's not even adding in that the entire population could be mobilized as armies faster than anyone on either world really want to think about. It was just making sure their new neighbors knew the consequences and stayed honest.”
“I don't think that's an advantage at all,” Kimmie replied. “You haven't beaten your swords into plowshares at all. You only have swords that are not very good plows.”
Chuck gave her a searching look. “You know if I didn't know Angel would be as mad at me as you were, I would ask you out.” He held up his hands. “However I won't because the last thing I need is to have both of you gunning for me.”
“Oh no,” Angel shark grinned, “Then you would have to take us both out at the same time. Not only would you not get any, but we would be very expensive dates.”
“Very, very expensive,” Kimmie echoed promising.
“You know, “Chuck scratched his head. “I'm almost tempted anyway.” “That does not change that what you said was extremely profound. The Wild Side hasn't really changed from the armed camps that battled each other for ages. And while many understands this, they're not sure how to change or fix it. That's not counting the ones who likes things just as they are. If the Gates went away today, they wouldn't shed a tear. Worse, I suspect more than a few are actively working for that end.”
“Earth isn't a lot better.” Angel pointed out. “We might not have misused eugenic experiments running around.” She waited a moment and added, “Yet, but we have more than enough racial and cultural intolerance as well as good old fashioned discrimination to make up for it.”
“Yeah,” Kimmie piped up. “Don't forget global warming, deforestation of the rain forests, pollution, and that's just a few of the other big things.”
“Like nuclear weapons, terrorism, and mass extinctions,” I added. “Sure we might have greater life spans, but drive-by shooting by gangs over drugs can kill you just as dead as magic can.”
“So you might live to that ripe old age … maybe,” Angel summarized.
“You girls sure know how to deflate a guy's dream don't you?” Chuck sighed. “I guess the grass is always greener on the other side, but I'll take a chance for a better, longer life over a sure bet for short one.”
Even knowing that he kinda meant Angel and Kimmie, hearing me lumped together with the 'girls' sent tremor of good feelings though me.
“However, things are looking up,” I said, determined to look on the bright side. “The global economy is improving and those other problems are being addressed. With the trade from Earth, the Wild Side is getting an education on different ways of doing things and providing opportunities none of the Wild Siders had ever dreamed of.” I added, “Earth is providing an outlet for all of that lost talent you were talking about earlier.
“I'm sure some of other of the exchange students will go home even if you won't. That'll help spread what they learned. You have Earth immigrants to the Wild Side to consider too. Sure not many are going to want to stay if 'adjusted' to one of the shorter life span races, but the others who are changed into the longer lived ones will be there for a long time.”
“While I can understand why you wouldn't want to return, if the tables were turned and you were a woman here and you 'adjusted' to a male Goblin would you still feel the same?” I was thinking of that immigrant I'd read about who'd given up over a third of her life to be a female. Even the attractiveness issue wasn't that much of a biggie, at least to me. Sure they had a greenish tint, and the exaggerated ears like you saw in some computer games, but I'd seen some cute Goblin girls.
“I get your point.” Chuck admitted after a moment. “In a way we both came out ahead. Being me,” He tapped himself on the chest. “is more important than any of the side benefits. It does make it easy to come up with reasons to stay and a whole lot why not to go back.”
I found myself nodding with him. Wanting things to be better than perhaps they really were on the Wild Side, I was doing the grass was greener on the other side of the fence thing too.
Even Owen had carefully warned me, that the city of Choedtan wasn't representative of how things really were on the Wild Side. I guess that the heart loves who it loves and the mind follows.
“You've answered my question,” I replied. “The Wild Side isn't a fairytale kingdom. It has problems as real and as troublesome as any Earth has.”
“That does give your story about all the races of the Wild Side being human if you go back far enough, weight.” Angel said sadly.
“Yeah,” Kimmie sighed. “Only we humans could manage to muck up two worlds.”
“But we're good at it,” Chuck added. “We did it in two completely different ways. That has got to take talent.”
“So we have a stagnant society with loads of warlike baggage, but with less environmental damage on one world, and then Earth with all of its problems.” Angel summarized.
“It kinda sounds like the Wild Side comes out better, environmentally anyways.” Kimmie pointed out.
“Not so fast,” He held up a hand. “Don't forget Australia. That's an entire continent that's a write off. Part of the reason why it was made into a penal colony was because of fallout from the Wars. Don't think for a moment that magic is any less friendly to the environment, when used as a weapon.”
“Humans,” Angel sighed.
The rest of us could do nothing more than follow her example. Sigh...
Dear 'O'
Your last letter was a joy. The part about the Leviathans was cool. Did Gods really modify whales into living zeppelins? I almost hate to ask if you have air sharks too!
Oh, I had a good talk with a Wild Side exchange student this week. It's part of Andrea's (my therapist) efforts to help me become better educated about your world. He gave me the version I didn't see on the Discovery channel.
According to him, no one is really hiding any of this, but they're still not talking about it either. Both of our worlds are getting far too much out of the relationship to do anything to sour things.
Like you said, it's not all sweetness and nice on the Wild Side. For that matter the fairy tales we have say that. Many of them have less than happy endings. It does make me wonder again about early travelers between Earth and the Wild Side. Our stories suggests it did happen, but something changed which brought on the 'adjusting.'
I did well on my mid-terms and as for my summer vacation plans, things are looking good. I want to spend a week back home, and then I can meet you on the Wild Side. Just how I'm going to make myself leave afterward is my biggest concern. Yes, I miss you so much, I think about you all the time, but it is also just as hard to put aside the person I become on the Wild Side.
My friends have proposed an experiment to test if I had gender issues that walking the Wild Side has unearthed. They won't tell me what they have in mind, but Andrea agrees I need to explore this more.
Next letter I'll let you know how it went!
Till then, still missing you!
Love
'S'
XXOO
Sioned and Owen's story continues.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
I showed up at the girls’ place. “So what's up?”
This was Saturday and I had the morning and early evening off. However, I was still blurry eyed from working late Friday night, and tonight was going to be busy too. Pizza delivery at a college campus during the weekend? You bet! However the tips were good.
Kimmie ushered me in with her usual smile. “Oh, you'll see!”
I suppose I should be concerned, but I did trust them. Since they lived off-campus because of their relationship, I was a little less worried about being seen no matter what they did. Besides, they only had a couple of hours to do their stuff. I'd made it very clear I had to work tonight.
One of the reasons I had even this much time available to me is that I'd finished a commissioned piece I gotten though my Deviant Art account early. That was going to be gas for the next week. I might even be able to afford food that wasn't left over pizza from work or ramen noodles.
It was all part of the burden of school. My Dad claims it builds character, but I'd observed that both of my brothers got a free ride. The difference was they were on athletic scholarships while mine was in art. For that matter my scholarship covered more than theirs did, but that didn't cut any mustard with him.
Any career that didn't involve sports or busted knuckles were beneath a real man according to him. My own paint stained, clay roughened fingers wasn't enough. Trust me, real art was tough on the hands.
Although recently, I'd made much more of an effort to take care of them. Sigh, Owen.
“She's here,” Kimmie yelled out the soul of discretion.
Following her in, I wondered if I'd wandered into a beauty parlor. “She's here,” I asked repeating her words.
Bouncing on her toes in excitement, Kimmie grinned. “Yah! All of today you're a girl. We're going to give you the works!”
“You've never experienced what being an Earth girl is all about,” Angel said coming into the room. “If you're really a girl under the skin then you'll feel it no matter where you are.”
Okay, now I'm nervous!
“Changing your major again?” I inclined my head at all the beauty parlor stuff.
“That's my girlfriend,” Kimmie giggled. "The Beauty School dropout!”
That earned her a thrown towel from her lover.
“Here take this and follow the instructions.” Angel handed me a basket filled with bottles. “This is a hair remover, but watch out for the sensitive places. It is an acid, so be careful. Don't bother doing your hair, but do shave very, very close.”
At my I-can't-do-that expression, Angel gave a trying one in return as she rolled her eyes. “Oh please, it's just body hair. It'll grow back.”
Just under an hour later I was back shivering under the robe they left me. It surprised me how much being smooth reminded me of being Sioned. Weird that being without that body hair made that much of a difference.
They were waiting for me and I think my apprehension went through the roof. I wanted to run away, but I also wanted even more of this all at the same time. It didn't make any sense, but what about any of this did.
Sitting down, they got to work. I know they talked, I talked, but I can't remember a word of it. It did feel good as they did my hair. Normally, I wore it on the long side which was something that drove my Dad nuts. That was part of the reason why I did it, along with being too cheap to get haircuts. The ironic thing is that I'd seen pictures of him at my age and his hair was even longer than mine. Parents and double-standards, go figure.
“Don't worry,” Kimmie tried to calm me. “This stuff washes out and you can hide the style with your normal ponytail.”
Style? Gulp!
I guess my efforts at taking care of my hands must not had been very successful, because when Kimmie started work on them she just glared at me.
Personally, I was more concerned about whatever she put on my nails. Maybe, LBGT's weren't persecuted on campus, but that was a hell of a long ways from acceptance. On the other hand, I kind of liked my hands looking nice.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “Artists are tough on their hands. I've tried to take care of them, but I guess I didn't do such a good job.”
Intent on trimming cuticles, Kimmie just sniffed.
“Perhaps you could give me some tips?” I asked, trying to make nice.
Looking up, her face beamed in delight.
I learned more about nail and hand care than I ever knew existed. Moisturize, moisturize, and moisturize again were her advice.
While that was happening, Angel started on my eyebrows. “You know you should have two and not one, right?”
Finally they were done, and got me dressed. The outfit wasn't too very girly, but it did have a denim skirt, blouse, and sandals.
With the Gate, one step I was John and on the next I was Sioned. This was so different that by the time I was standing in front of the mirror, I was a nervous wreck. It was like looking into a shattered glass at all the distortions. Every imperfection glared out at me. My Addams apple, the overly strong jaw, and that brow of mine said male, but at the same time it felt so much more natural to be dressed this way. I felt pulled in two directions at once.
Kimmie was on one side while Angel was on the other. They were staring at the girl in the mirror too.
“Wow, you're pretty, Sioned.” Kimmie played with my new bangs.
Angel was more subdued. “That blouse isn't quite right for you.” Leaving she came back with another that had a higher lace collar. She had the old one half off me before I realized what she was doing revealing my stuffed bra.
What hit me was how embarrassed I was over that fact. Still trying to digest how much I felt I should have breasts, Kimmie helped keep the new blouse makeup free as Angel dressed me like an oversize doll.
Fluffing up the collar, she stepped back satisfied. “Now, that's better.”
Trying to make my wits work, I saw my Adams Apple no longer peeked out.
I still painfully saw all of those flaws, but I also saw someone else, a girl, me, Sioned.
The first tear fell before I knew I was even crying.
“See I told you, the waterproof mascara was worth it.” Kimmie triumphantly announced as she passed me a tissue.
“Happy tears?” Angel whispered as she held me.
I couldn't answer. There was too much trying to get out again. All I could do was feel.
Many tissues later, I finally found my voice. “So what do we do now?”
“I'm afraid in the long term that's up to you.” Angel replied. “However, for today we'd planned just to take it easy the rest of the afternoon and have some girl time.”
“Yeah!” Kimmie exclaimed. “We'll watch some movies and just hang.”
“That sounds like pretty much what guys do.” I said, back finding my humor.
“Ah, grasshopper, that's because you haven't seen the movies she's picked out!” Angel smiled. “However, it's time to fix your makeup. Here, we'll show you how.”
“Yep! All part of being a girl.” Kimmie enthusiastically guided me back to the mirror.
Maybe because of my artist’s eye, it didn't take me long to get the idea. It was far from expert, but I didn't look like a clown either. When we got back to their living room and tidied up from my makeover, Angel just kept looking at me.
Smoothing my skirt before I sit, I finally asked, “Okay Angel what's up? Am I doing something wrong?”
“Wrong?” She laughed. “Oh no, you're doing it right! That's why I'm staring. Hell, I think you're doing it better than I ever did.”
Kimmie giggled flopping down next to me. “We're lipstick lesbians and enjoy looking feminine for each other. Besides I like being a little girly and silly. It helps me from going crazy dealing with economics professors, and business forecasts.”
She wrapped an arm around me. “Angel being who she is let's me express a side of me I might not be able to otherwise.”
“And her being silly and ditzy sometimes helps remind me not to be so serious,” Angel smiled at her partner. “However that doesn't mean I get into all that being a Lady crap my Mom used to push at me. I picked and chose which ones I could live with and the ones that went into the no thanks, no way basket.”
You could see the love and care they had for each other.
“But you do the whole graceful thing without even thinking about!” She almost sounded jealous. “And like just now when you smoothed your skirt before sitting down unlike my so elegant partner who just fell into the sofa like a sack of potatoes.”
“That's a really cute, sexy bag of potatoes!” Kimmie stuck out her tongue.
“Well, I did spend two weeks as Sioned with Owen during spring break.” I defended myself. “I arrived dressed really femmie, and honestly had no real desire to wear anything else.” Blushing very red I added, “He didn't complain.”
“I bet he didn't!” Angel smiled, I think as much at my blushing as at my statement.
Kimmie poked me in a ticklish spot. “What she's trying to say is that you pass very well.”
“Yes you do.” Angel said. I guess it was her turn to blush. “I've seen other gurls and many of them try too hard to get it right.”
“Forced,” Kimmie added her two cents.
“You're so natural with everything it's as if you grew up a girl.” Angel said still blushing. “If you were still available I would seriously considered that threesome we used to joke about.”
“But I'm not, but thanks for the compliment.” I felt my face grow even warmer if that was possible. While I might have been tempted before Spring Break, but not now. I'd confronted my feelings about Owen. For better or for worse, I was in love with him.
“What she said,” Kimmie gave me a wistful smile. “It's kind of a shock to find yourself attracted to someone you weren't the day before. However you'll always be our friend, but now it's even better than before!
“How's that?” I asked still feeling euphoric and yet angsty about all of this.
“You're our best guy friend we can talk to about clothes and stuff!” She excitedly bounced up and down on their sofa.
“And stuff?” I asked with a grin.
“And stuff.” Angel solidly confirmed.
Then after a moment of the three of us smiling silly at each other Kimmie, never one to be distracted for long exclaimed, “Movies!”
While I like action flicks, the so called chick-flicks aren't bad either. All that really matters is if they have a good story or not. Kimmie might act brainless, but I knew her grade point average said otherwise. Her viewing picks proved that. All in all I enjoyed her selections.
Of course, I kept looking at the clock. I knew that my temporary testosterone reprieve had an expiration date. It wasn't something I was forward to. The last time was when I'd kissed Owen goodbye and stepped though the Gate.
It had not been pretty. Finding I was back as John had been … difficult. Andrea helped me name it, depression. While she hadn't insisted I see a doctor, she was really hinting, if you know what I mean.
Wanting to be functional to work tonight, my reaction to what happens when Sioned goes back into the closet concerned me.
The girls had been checking the clock too, but I really just put it down to keeping track of 'Pumpkin' time.
Then the doorbell rang.
The girls jumped up which made me really suspicious that they were expecting someone. Now, that made me nervous. I might be comfortable dressed this way, but the fear of being revealed, outed, was very strong. You want to try terrifying?
“Oh, I wonder who that is?” Kimmie sing-songed making me certain I'd been set up.
Who could it be? Chuck or maybe Andrea, both of which would be okay if not cool since they knew my secret already.
“Why don’t you get it, Sioned?” Angel suggested. Now I knew I'd been set up.
Dreading and yet forever hopeful, I walked to the door. It couldn't be him, I argued. The three of them would have to planned this and I couldn't see how they could've managed it. I mean just because I have him on my mind all the time.
No, no, no it can't be him!
Opening the door, my breath stopped as reality failed to agree with my reasoning.
“Sioned,” Owen said with a small pottery of live flowers in his hands.
I vaguely recall the giggling of my so evil friends, but I had eyes only for the man in front of me. I didn't care what I was, I knew what I wanted. Wrapping myself around him, I saw his blue eyes just as full of passion as mine.
As he inclined his head to kiss me, my inner voice was silent. My lipstick covered lips seemed to burn as more words failed both of us. My only regret was not being a full woman on this side of the Gate because I wanted him so bad.
“Yr wyf i yn dy garu di” He whispered in my ear translating. “I love you.”
I had all I wanted.
Happily nuzzling my Dyn, I hugged him tight.
Notes: According to my research, "Yr wyf i yn dy garu di," is the very old fashioned and stilted Welsh translation of 'I love you.' That works very well for High Elvish in my opinion.
Sioned's and Owen's story continues in Part 4.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
My euphoric overloaded brain not so gently alerted me that not only was I cross-dressed in the open door where anyone could see me, but Owen and I had been giving anyone who wanted to see, a free show.
Pulling him inside, he grabbed a rather nice artist's portfolio that'd been sitting next to him. I started to ask him what was in it, but Angel and Kimmie were, hmmm... distracting.
“I take it you've gotten over your aversion to the gay thing.” Angel said in a way that somehow managed not to be hurtful.
“She's my morwyn, a woman.” Owen stated softly. “As such our love couldn't be described as such.” His voice became deeper as he spoke to me. “However even if it was I would still love you. If would not be to either of our preferences, but fate is what she is. The Lady can be quite fickle with her blessings when it strikes her.”
Poor Kimmie was staring at my lover as if Elf struck. It suddenly hit me that she had finally remembered who he was even as a human.
Angel had noticed Kimmie's wordless shock as well. How could anyone miss it really given if she awake she's talking.
“You have a point,” She said crossing her arms. “There's no doubt in my mind that my friend has a strong feminine side. However, because she is my friend I want the best for her. I know others who have similar problems and it isn't easy for them to step into either role, feminine or masculine. They are stuck as gray in a black and white world.”
“Hey, you two.” I spoke up. “I'm right here you know and can speak for myself. You're both right and wrong.”
Looking up in those sky blue eyes that had captured me from the very first time I saw them, I said, “I love you, Owen whoever you are. I can accept that now. It is more comfortable for me when I'm presenting as my therapist would say as a woman. I guess more of how I was raised has clung to me than I care for. However, my feelings for you are the same no matter if I am human or Elf.”
Then I turned to Angel and Kimmie. “You're my best friends, and I know you're worried about me. I'm worried about me! This gender stuff isn't for the weak hearted. Looking at the suicide and assault rates on gender variants are scary stuff. Half of it comes from their own families, and believe me I know my folks fall right into those narrow minded statistics.”
“But,” I pointed out to them. “I am seeing Andrea and doing stuff like this with you exploring just how much girl is in here.” I tapped my stuffed bra. “Maybe I wasn't bouncing around in a dress as a kid, but that is a good thing. My Dad would've murdered me for sure and I never would've met any of you. With that said, I can begin to see a trail of clues I've left behind me.
I bowed my head. “In spite of me defending my art as being a masculine career I'm seeing that perhaps I hid and expressed my femininity in my works. It hasn't been easy admitting that even to myself.”
I found a smile. “Besides if all of you were really that suspicious of each other you never would've been able to set me up like this! So no more fighting, please?”
Then with my hands on my hips I demanded, “So just how did you three arrange this?”
Kimmie who'd finally found her voice explained. “It was easy really. You told us Mr. Meatloaf here used a courier service. We simply kept watch until he showed up and asked him take our letter too. See nothing to it!”
“I must admit, it was surprising to find an extra letter.” Owen gave my friends a bow. “However a very pleasant gift as well. I know how stressful this has been for my morwyn and I'm pleased that she has such good friends standing by her. I thank you.”
“You're welcome.” Angel replied a touch dryly. “She was going through hard times. The two of us know all too well how finding out that you can't fulfill your family and/or other expectations can set you apart, alone. Sioned needed to know and see how she felt when she allowed herself to be feminine in this world.
“Yah!” Kimmie chimed in. “Because of our makeover and girl-time Sioned was able to let her inner hair down, and then when you showed up at the door, Pow! She wasn't thinking about how boys were supposed to do things. She let her heart do the kissing!”
Blushing red, I admitted they'd made their point. I guess I'd known it all along, but had denied it. The very thought of being Gay made me flinch. The less complimentary descriptions burned me as if they were napalm which even a touch caused the flames to stick by association. Perhaps other parts of our small blue planet were more enlightened, but, the area where my family lived and I grew up sure as hell wasn't.
That didn't change the feelings within me for my dyn. Knowing that under these clothes hidden with paint and powder, John was still very much present. At the same time I was, felt, more like I was Sioned. Each and every flaw in my fragile illusion glared out at me. My too large hands despite Kimmie's manicure to the something extra tucked away under the panties I wore, they all reminded me of the truth. However, even that truth was also a lie. I might look like my Father's son, but I'd always been my Mother's daughter instead no matter how I hid, denied, and buried it away.
With all of my heart I wanted to be Sioned, Owen's morwyn, a whole and complete female for her dyn. This illusion was so much closer to that ideal, but yet so far away.
“Sioned?” Owen asked, holding me. “Are you alright?”
My face was still red as looked up at him realizing I'd zoned out.
“This is a little much.” I stammered very self-consciously. “So what's in there?” I pointed at the portfolio trying to change the subject.
“Ah!” His eyes laughed as he smiled. “That's why I'm here. Your friends' invitation gave me the perfect excuse to see you while I take care of some other matters. Besides it includes some things you should be consulted about.”
“Err... those are the drawings I did while on Spring Break?” I asked, cautiously because those were the very things he told me not to talk about.
“Indeed!” Owen replied. “Do you mind if they see?”
“Sure, as long as you don't.” I wasn't sure what was going on.
Opening the portfolio, he revealed three of the drawings that really changed the way I'd always viewed art.
I couldn't help but remember making them. It'd been towards the end of our trip and we'd shared a bed if not slept together if you know what I mean. Being a little restless worrying about our parting so soon, I was up early.
Letting the cool gulf breeze ruffle my hair, I'd looked at Owen still asleep. It was one of those perfect moments where the rising sun created these wonderful shadows framing my dyn's face. Back on Earth I would be looking for my cell phone to take a picture, but I wasn't about to drag a Goblin photographer inside to ruin this moment.
I had better available.
Setting up my art stuff, I began to draw. Immediately, I picked the charcoals because those shadows cried out for that soft darkness. Breaking up the space on the page, I was soon absorbed in the moment.
At first I didn't realize what was happening so intent I was upon my task. Then I saw small motes of charcoals I humorously called 'art dust' floating in the air and landing with exacting precision upon the sketch pad just where they needed to be.
I suppose it was because I was so in the groove that I didn't even stop or pause. It wasn't until Owen was looking over my shoulder that I came out of my near trance. Really that wasn't unusual for me. Looking at what I'd just created, now that was.
Even though I'm thought to be rather talented, it's still frustrating at times to translate what I see with my inner eye to canvas and paper. Not this time. It was as if you could see the love I had for him right there for all to see. Each line spoke of my feelings as the darker shades feathered out so delicately you couldn't tell where they ended. It was magic.
I used magic.
At Owen’s prompting I did three more drawings trying to see if I could duplicate the, err, technique. Two were seascapes and the last was a self-portrait. The answer was yes, and it got easier with each one.
Flying high could almost describe how I felt then, but he bought me back to earth, or maybe I should say the ground since we were on the Wild Side.
“Sioned.” He told me then. “What you have is a very rare gift. Normally it takes much training and discipline to reach and use what we call magic here. That you can instinctively do what takes others years to master only confirms what I’ve always known. You're a precious treasure.”
“However, that comes with the bad as well as the good. There are those who would take advantage of you, and others who would do you harm out of jealousy and envy.”
“Please, you must promise me you will speak to no one about this.” His blue eyes looked intently into mine.
And I had. Those four pictures of mine had stayed behind although I really wanted to take at least his portrait with me. I also had to admit that while I missed him, and dearly wanted to be Sioned again, I itched for the chance to put paint to canvas wondering what I could do with different mediums with the magic.
Both Angel and Kimmie drew in sudden breaths. Hell, I did too! The frames were gorgeous obviously being of Elvish work. Instead of solid wood the entire thing was a delicately carved filigree. The frames themselves were works of art. And he'd placed my charcoal drawings in them?
Aright! I admit they were pretty outstanding, but you really had to see those frames. On the other hand they really did accent the drawings. They further pointed out that the seascapes weren't from around here even though the buildings and trees were, well, other worldly.
But of course the third picture was the one of him that I very much wanted to keep. I had the feeling that was the business he was speaking of, and it'd been taken out of my hands. I did however promise myself there would be other drawings as well as paintings. Which didn't answer why there was such secrecy over his identity or why the reversal on keeping those pictures under wraps. In the end a picture is still just a picture.
While my friends were staring at my work, Owen asked, “Is there somewhere the two us can have some privacy?”
“Sure,” Kimmie answered,” The back-porch swing.”
“I know where it is,” I said as I took him by the hand.
As we sat, I asked, “Are you going to come clean about who you really are O'Curious Traveler?”
“But I am,” He protested. I swear I almost got a sigh out of him that time!
“Really?” I did sigh. “Just an Elf with wandering feet who just happens to own a gold Wild Side passport, and who's treated like a VIP?” I raised a finger as I recalled, “And strangely, no one seems to remember your name, but that wouldn't mean they were covering for you.
“Of course I checked the Elvish peerage to see if there were any matches.” I caressed his face. “But I didn't find you although tons of them resembled you.”
That got a smile out of him. “Don't you know all of us Elves are related to each other?” He took my hand, gently kissing my palm.
Ignoring the pleasant shudder that passed though me I replied. “So I learned. It appears half the Wild Side can claim to be a prince or princess.” I wasn't as 'sensitive' as a human, but I would be lying if I said I didn't like it. What I did resent was that portion of my anatomy that, tucked away or not, was making himself uncomfortably known.
“I don't suppose you're going to explain how a mere Curious Traveler came up with a Wild Side visa when none were available or how you were able to pay for both of us on a Spring Break fling and never for one instant worried about the cost?”
That actually got a laugh from him. “Just because I'm a mere Curious Traveler doesn't mean I'm destitute. For the rest, can I help it if I'm a naturally likable fellow?
Damn, but wasn't his smile hard to resist!
“I take it that as a no.” I stated trying to stay strong. He and the Wild Side had turned my whole life upside, backwards, sideways, and I don't know how many more ways I didn't even know about yet. Were a few hard facts too much to ask for?
“I don't suppose you're going to explain about my drawings either or this abrupt change of face. From the frames, I'm guessing you're taking them to be sold. I wanted to keep the one of you.” I think I was pouting!
“Sioned,” This time he did sigh. “Yes, I have been keeping secrets, but that was to avoid telling you any untruths. I am a Curious Traveler, but Elves live long and my past is complex.” He pulled the small locket from around his neck that I knew held my picture.
“When I first saw you, I will admit to only wanting to have some fun and enjoy the day with someone whom all of the Wild Side was new and exciting.” He softly tilted my face upwards. “The cost of a long life is that everything can seem dull since you've seen it all before. Seeing your delight in even the simple things all took for granted was a precious gift you gave freely to all with your laughter and smiles.”
“When you departed you took a part of my enaid, my soul, with you.” His words were almost whispered, but they had the force of the heavens behind them sending electric tingles though me.
“You remained in my thoughts despite the passing weeks. Finally, I cried surrender and sought out whatever I could find about you.” The passion in his blue eyes devoured my will.
“Yes, I used what influence I had to find and locate where you lived. Yes, again I used my status to arrange for your Spring Break on the Wild Side.” The tension between us was a silent edginess that foretold bolts from above.
“No, I've never regretted any of this for one instance. I had to know what it was I felt for you and more importantly if you returned it. You know my answer to that question as I know yours. You hold my heart in your hands, as I have the honor of holding yours. I cannot say I will not cause you hurt or anger for you can't have love without passion, and that can be a turbulent storm full of wild emotion and terrible beauty as well as an oasis of happiness.
“However my love I have a question for you.” Owen asked.
I gestured for him to go on, not trusting my voice.
“Even if I came here to live here with you on Earth could you stay away from the Wild Side?” He added seeing my face, “And after everything that could be done here to help you become more comfortable with yourself?”
“Not ever walk the Wild side again and become Sioned the Elf again?” My whisper heralded tears.
“Never ever,” His own eyes were glistening.
I knew from talking with Andrea just what Earth medical doctors could and couldn't do. My body was still relatively young and I'd always been on the thin side. There was much they could do to give me a feminine shape. From what I'd researched I might even appear pretty.
However, that was the problem, appear. It didn't matter how much my brains and emotions were that of a woman, my body was still male. I would be the shape and form, but not the substance of what made a woman. The ability to bear children and truly be female just wasn't possible with current medical science. Those flaws I'd seen earlier in the mirror would still be there, only hidden better with surgery rather than makeup.
The Wild Side could and did more. Besides the fact I'd fallen in love with not only Owen, but the place too. Chuck had torn away some of my ignorance, but I couldn't forget the wonderful times I'd there. That's not counting how exhilarating it was to work real magic even if my wand was only a charcoal pencil.
To stay away from all of that forever?
I shook my head, no, tears falling.
“Please don't cry,” He kissed my tears. “I had to tell you what was at stake. Your talent for using magic so effortlessly makes you an even greater treasure then the miracle that brought you to me. To my knowledge not a single other walker or curious traveler has ever been so gifted. It is so rare only a handful on all of Gaia shares it.”
“However, in order to prepare those who would be most surprised and alarmed we're planning on easing them into it by introducing you gradually. Taking your art to auction is a part of that.” He chuckled, tweaking my nose. “We can chase down and buy that drawing back if you like after all this is settled, but linking you with me will help we think. For that we need that picture of me, but we're not ready yet to reveal you to both worlds yet, so your self-portrait will remain hidden for now.”
“We?” I asked. “Why do I think that 'we' doesn't include me?” My question was plain to see. “Just who is included in that 'we?'”
“That's why I've been so busy as you can tell from my letters from all over the Wild Side.” Smiling, he made sure I couldn't stay mad at him. “I had to consult with others who are more learned than I as well as my family.”
Owen didn't mistake what my stare meant when he mentioned his family.
“I am a curious traveler, Sioned.” He sighed. “That role has served me and my family very well for many years. It allowed me to escape traditional obligations that neither suited my temperament nor lifelong goals. I think I can safely say neither my family nor I regret that decision.” A far off look as if remembering another time passed over his face like a cloud obscuring the sun.
“However,” Owen said sadly. “What I cannot do is speak of it even to you. I pray to the Lady that the time for all to be revealed to you comes soon, but it is not now. She picks her own time and place to bless us with her answers.”
“So it is a politics thing made even worse somehow by my being able to make pictures with, you know?” I used a finger to twitch my nose like Samantha out of 'Bewitched.'
At his puzzled expression, I whispered, “Magic.”
For the Ellyll, Elves, family and politics are all the same.” He replied nodding about my pictures.
I placed a finger on his lips to keep him from saying more. “Then I trust that once you are able to tell me, I will get the full story. You have my full permission to broker my drawings as needed to resolve this situation.”
Despite my peeve about his secrecy, I found myself snuggling next to him as the swing squeaked as it went forward and then backwards. There was this weird absence of discomfort not quite pain feeling as I was able to put just where I was out of my mind and just be me. That wasn't easy since the things that made me John, nudged and well, poked, reminding me that Sioned was really a world away.
Shut up I told them. I'm a morwyn enjoying the time with my dyn after a long absence.
Owen stared down at me. “You really are my treasure, you know that?”
Continuing to ignore those little clues that told me otherwise, I let myself fall into his eyes. “You had better believe it.”
For a long timeless moment we simply swung there on my friends’ back-porch. Words didn't seem to be needed so we both enjoyed being with each other.
It wasn't till Kimmie and Angel came out to remind me of the time that we said anything at all. The rest of the time he was there, I couldn't stand to let him see me revealed for the fraud I felt I was. A kiss and a hug, then he was gone.
Despite my own warnings to myself, removing all signs of Sioned leaving only John behind was traumatic. I felt like part of my very identity was ripped away. Missing Owen already didn't help at all.
Leaving and going to work, I was a zombie, but pizzas were waiting and tips sucked when they were delivered cold. Burying myself in my job I tried not to think, just do.
Dear 'O'
You just left and I'm already feeling lonesome without you. Please forgive the food stains, but I had to take a moment at work to put down my feelings. I guess I really am transgendered, and it wasn't the Gate or the Wild Side that caused me to fall for you.
I told you that I thought that I'd been hiding those feelings in my art and I'm more sure of it than ever. Maybe that's why I could do that thing I'm not supposed to talk about. It's such an intimate, passionate portion of me, that it simply can't be denied. It's there for all to see, if you bother to look.
Kimmie and Angel said they would do their best to give me more time to relax and be myself. According to them, I'm like a bottle under-pressure and how I feel will get better with time. It is something to talk to Andrea about.
XXOO
'S'
PS: I think Kimmie finally remembered where she knows you from, but as per our agreement I've resisted asking her so far. Please, please, don't take too long. I need to know!
Have you ever been hit by news so startling and big your world is never the same again? It's a little like people remembering where and what they were doing when 911 went down or JFK was shot. Unlike those events, this was nothing really bad since death and destruction wasn't involved. Maybe more like when the Gates were first announced and we were introduced to our first aliens, well sorta kinda. However, I won't deny traumatic because it turned my world on end … again.
Like most people in those 'events' I was just doing the everyday things that are a part of life. That day I was at breakfast with my friends. It was a Friday morning which found only the hardcore students out and about since most arranged their classes to avoid that as much as they could, mornings and Friday.
Chuck had joined us which had become more of a common occurrence as the weeks passed since our first meeting. He really was an alright guy, but sometimes he got a little too much into that 'guy' thing. It wasn't exactly like he was forcing it, but more like the dude was simply enjoying it too damn much. Kimmie laughingly called it his testosterone high.
Even still he wasn't an ass or jerk about it which made it bearable. Really his presence, like that Angel and Kimmie's, helped me get over my mini-melt down and depression. Instead of macho he was more like the wise-cracking tough guys from the old movies. No surprise I guess since Humphrey Bogart and crew is so popular on the Wild Side. Not the worst role-model I guess.
Everything was really pretty normal Friday morning. I had an early Art class which was always a challenge trying to be creative when you're still half asleep. Chuck was watching the morning news on one of the large TV's set in the corner while half-listening to Angel and Kimmie chat. Me, I was inhaling coffee after a late night of pizza delivery frenzy.
“Wow,” Chuck exclaimed. “Look at that.”
Still faithfully worshiping my brew, I selfishly decided that whatever it was could wait, I was wrong.
My eyes popped open as I heard Angel's sudden inhaling hiss of surprise and Kimmie's “Uh oh!”
Speaking of which, I did confront Kimmie about Owen, but she managed to weasel out of telling me if she knew anything. Once again I was reminded she really wasn't an airhead.
“Hey, John.” Angel innocently asked. “Isn't that one of your pictures Owen said he was taking to auction for you?”
Looking up at the screen there was in living color was my charcoal sketch of my dyn. Still in its ornate frame it sat on an easel being bid on.
In a kind of shock I only half noticed it was one of the big auction houses like Sotheby's or Christie's. You have to excuse me since my brains really wasn't tracking that well.
It was the final bid that had me spitting coffee all over Chuck.
Forty-nine and some change million pounds!
Choking, Kimmie and Angel were trying to help me breathe.
Chuck simply sat there soaking in coffee, speechless.
Eyes watering, I finally started breathing again. Afraid we'd caused a scene, I futility looked about us, but this early in the morning the few that had noticed, moved away probably thinking I'd thrown up from a hang-over instead of surprise.
Noticing our poor friend I'd spewed caffeine all over. “I'm sorry Chuck!”
Kimmie and Angel observing another emergency passed him a handful of napkins.
He however simply calmly turned to me. “You drew that?” he asked in a too normal voice. “That is a very rare picture of the Lost Prince.”
“Yes, but please keep it to yourself. I'm not supposed to tell.” I whispered to him since the cat was out of the bag. In a classic double take, it hit me. “Prince, Lost?” I asked numbly.
“You're the aristocrat Femme Fatale Pointy-Ear that's out to corrupt him?” He blinked from the emotional overload.
“Femme, lost, fatale, prince, what?” I asked very, very confused.
He began to laugh.
To be continued in 'The Wild Side: Summer Vacation.'
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual people or situations is coincidental. This story does contain Transgender themes and if this would offend you don't continue! I the author retains the right for where and when this work is posted. As always many thanks to the proof readers Hope, Janet Nolan, and others who took my rough raw work and fashioned it into something readable! Any mistakes of course are mine!
John was becoming very stressed out. Although he was just a minor functionary with the State Department, it had fallen to him to introduce the Teral cultural representatives to New York's night life.
In other words, some of the Alien ship's crew wanted to go on shore-leave and, if anything were to go wrong, he was going to be caught holding the 'sticky' end of the stick.
Just a few months ago their ship had suddenly appeared in orbit around Earth. Of course everyone panicked and frenzied radio messages were sent, hoping and praying the visitors were peaceful.
Unlike all the Science-Fiction movies, they sent back a reply. They were called the Teralians and were interested in opening relations with Earth, but there were some conditions.
They would remain in orbit for one month and, if we could go to them in person with a delegation that could legally represent the planet as a whole, they would talk about trade and other matters. If not, they would leave at the end of that month and further, if they were attacked, that would be taken as an answer as well and depart.
That month was one of the most chaotic in the history. No one may ever know everything that happened, but the commando raids to stop missile attacks on the Alien ship and NASA's breakneck work to have a shuttle ready were among the highlights.
Back rooms of the world's powers were filled with politicking and power brokering. Some wanted the power that going to the Aliens would bring, while others feared being the victim of a rushed shuttle launch, not to mention the old terror of the unknown.
Right to the last minute, the bickering continued until an agreement was hammered out in the UN and though everyone might not have agreed with it, at least they weren't against it.
The shuttle’s successful launch let everyone release a long held breath of relief amid prayers and crossed fingers. Religious leaders condemned and applauded, contradicting each other, as it seemed no one could agree on how to treat this event.
Mostly, everyone cheered when the shuttle docked with the much larger alien ship. Meanwhile, the shuttle-crew were really, really hoping peaceful aliens really were peaceful. The entire world was glued to the TV broadcast, as the Teralians, when they greeted Earths envoys, were revealed as rather handsome humanoids.
It seemed the Teralians were on their way somewhere else when some hundred light years out they ran across some of our radio and TV signals. Delighted and amazed to find beings who appeared so like them, after meeting many other different species, they couldn't resist coming right to us.
That was when the troubles began. The problem was we were just too similar and different at the same time. The Teralians had contact with many other planets, but none that reassembled their own so closely.
Despite how human they looked, they weren't even close. They had four sexes and usually mated in some combination of three, as compared to humans only two.
Two of their sexes were more or less like our male and female, but the others punched our 'Oh Shit' buttons. S'hims looked to us as voluptuous women, but had male organs. They had the role of nurturers in the Teralian culture and were often managers for their ability to work with others.
The h'herm were just the opposite having very masculine appearance, but female organs. Their role as the protectors and defenders had them working in their military as well as law enforcement.
Everyone in our envoy to the Teralians was male, which appeared closest to their h'herms, who were the most aggressive of their sexes. Their negotiators were s'hims, who were very uncomfortable with the envoy’s members, who to them were the same as sending an all military delegation to a peace conference.
Our envoys, of course, were taken aback by the group of very female looking ambassadors who made them even more uncomfortable when they found out they had what appeared to be male genitalia.
Miracle of miracles, the envoys included some scientists, who were able to explain and understand the differences. Surprisingly, somehow competent people got into the delegation. An interim trade agreement and cultural exchange was signed.
In exchange for material supplies we received knowledge and data from the stars. Included in that knowledge were cures for most earthly diseases, as well as information on how to increase crop yields in unfavorable climates.
For the right to visit and record our museums and art galleries, the world's scientists got a few simple observations that had the physicists slapping themselves as the secrets to cold fusion and anti-gravity became understandable.
All of which brought up the big problem; who was going to watch these Teralians as they were running all over the planet playing tourist, taking pictures of everyone and everything.
That was how poor John found himself escorting the trio of Teralians. The powers that be gave all the would-be guides classes on how to deal effectively with the aliens, but the nearly hysterical professor teaching the course couldn't get it though their heads that the word “-like” wasn't to be used for the Teralians.
“You can't say human-like. They are not human! You have more in common with rats, at least those are mammals!” the professor ranted. “Genetic information was passed to each of the four sexes more like a virus than anything we have here on earth.”
“They seem to have far less ‘junk’ in what passes for DNA in them. We think that’s because they use the additional sexes as a filtering process.” He stated, waving his hands wildly in the air, “Don't think they are at a disadvantage because they have four sexes, because they don't need to have all four to procreate. Even the two that have what appear to be male genitalia, can exchange genetic information, and we suspect that the ones with female genitalia can as well.”
At the green look from some of the more homophobic students, he chuckled, “You fools, they aren't HUMAN! Do you think that this material on their heads is hair?” pointing at a photo of a Teralian h'herm. Kind of looks like dreadlocks doesn't it?” he said smiling.
Slamming his hands down! “NO! There is no LIKE here!”
“These are closer to jellyfish tentacles and are filled with millions of bio-chemical stingers. A jellyfish can't, however, tailor which sort of chemical is released, but they can! It is a part of their reproductive system, which is how the two with female genitals can exchange genetic materials. The Teral apparently also use the tentacles for defensive purposes and God know what else.”
The wild haired professor took a deep breath, “If it helps any, remember that to them we are the strange ones. Imagine going to a city with all women or all men... that is somewhat how they see us. You have to watch out for not only yourself making erroneous assumptions, but for them as well.”
Placing both hands on his desk he shook his head in resignation, “Someone, somewhere is going to screw up, just don't let it be you. They are not human, but we are not Teralian, trust me mistakes are going to be made.”
Holding up two fingers with a small gap, “Please keep them small ones. Godspeed to you all.”
John's trio was fairly typical with a male, a h'herm and a s'him, and was for the most part easy to get along with. There had been a few problems, but John had been able to smoothly work things out.
Du'nis, the male, was around 6'2” and 220 lbs with the smooth reddish tan and blueish shimmering dreadlocks. His eyes had the doubled lid that gave humans the impression that the Teralians were blind with their solid brass metallic color.
Ae'non the h'herm was huge by comparison, at 6'8” and over 300 lbs of hard muscle. The h'herm was built like a professional wrestler or pro-football player. It was disconcerting how feminine the h'herm's, deep green, dreadlock framed face seemed on such a giant.
The s'him of the group Be'fal had the Dolly Parton figure all s'him seemed to have. The much longer purple shimmering dreadlocks gave s'him a very erotic look that made knowing what was hidden under the over-long tunics, the Teralians seem to favor, all the more disturbing to him.
Tonight, they wanted to experience the night-life and after a few non-eventful weeks, it was deemed safe. Some religious fractions were still troublesome, but mostly, the gifts the Teralians brought satisfied the bulk of the population. The curing of Cancer and AIDS was progressing as quickly as the vaccine could be produced, and the fast growing crops modified, as suggested by the Aliens, were already beginning their first harvest.
The powers that be glossed over the fact that as far as the Teralians were concerned, they also owned the Galactic copy and distribution rights to the all the art works and artifacts they recorded. That little tidbit hadn't leaked out yet, but having the cure to most diseases and cheap, clean power was worth it to the world's powers, except maybe to the holders of those copyrights.
That, however, was someone else's problem. Everything had started off well, but over the course of the evening it became clear, the Triad wasn't completely happy with where they had visited. John, being more at ease with Du'nis asked, “Is anything wrong?”
Even though John knew he should really be directing his inquiries to Be'fal, because for Teral it was the s'hims who handled most of the talking.
Du'nis, uncomfortable about being asked, hesitated while he looked to the others of his Triad, “No, this was what we requested.”
John, being quick on the uptake, said, “But, there is somewhere else you would like to go?”
Du'nis glanced over at his two mates, while they gave gestures that John was picking up on meaning assent.
“Ask, and I'll check with Abbott and Costello and see if it is doable,” John glibly added.
John knew that the two beat cops assigned to them were the real guides, but whoever assigned them to work together as partners had a real sense of humor. There was also a squad of Military Police nearby, just in case someone started something, but he was mostly on his own.
Be'fal, tired of being ignored, spoke up, “We have heard of 'clubs' where those of your kind which most closely reassemble s'hims go. We are curious and would like to see one these places.”
The other two of Shim's Triad gestured acceptance while John rubbed the bridge of his nose.
The whole business of guys acting and dressing like women made John very uncomfortable, but, since moving to the big city, he had forced himself into, if not tolerance, a kind of blindness concerning them.
In truth this was why he had done so well this far with the Teralians. He had just put their differences out of his mind and got on with business.
Well, he thought, if that was what they wanted, walking over to where the two cops were loitering. The two seemed to regard this as easy duty and seemed to treat the Teralians as just another group of out-of-towners.
“Guys, they want to see a transvestite bar or somewhere cross-dressers hang out. Is that doable?” John asked trying not to show his ignorance about such things.
Abbot pushed up his service cap and looked over at his partner, “Jazzies?”
Costello dumping his cold coffee in a waste bin, replied, “Yeah, that should work.”
With the two beat cops leading the way, John checked-in with the Lieutenant of the MP's and let him know where they were going. The Lt. acknowledged the change of location, besides it wasn't far so they were going to walk.
That was where the warm fecal matter fell at high speed into the rotary oscillator. Right in front of them they saw a young woman being beaten by a gang of guys!
Abbott and Costello started cussing as they ran towards the fight, if you could call it that. The young woman was bleeding on the wet littered sidewalk while she was being kicked.
The assailants hearing the cops scattered while the cops chased them. Abbott yelled, “Check her out and call an ambulance!” as he pounded around the corner.
The Triad ran up to the fallen girl and John saw that it wasn't a girl at all, but a young man dressed in women’s clothing. John couldn't help himself but he froze. He wanted to help, but a part of himself was revolted by the idea of touching him.
The Triad gave each other a long hard look over John's inaction and moved to help the young person. Du'nis and Be'fal knelt to begin aiding him while Ae'non kept watch.
John was fighting to free himself from his paralysis, but one looked at Ae'non's wildly sparkling dreadlocks took him aback.
They were upset with him over this? He managed to get his phone out and called the Lt. and the MP's thankful they had a medic with them.
Trying to regain control over the situation he said, “We shouldn't move him. Help is coming.” Reaching for Be'fal's shoulder, since she was tending the guy, but Ae'non angrily stopped him. Be'fal whipped her head around and her normally golden lidded eyes showed an electric blue as her whipping dreadlocks struck him in the face.
John screamed as liquid fire covered his face! Unable to breath with the horrible pain, darkness claimed him.
John's eyes fluttered open to the drearily painted ceiling. A few moments passed as he recognized that he was in a hospital room. His thoughts were so heavy that he suspected that he was heavily sedated.
Looking dazedly about, he saw an IV and the usual medical stuff about the room. Peering at the other bed in the room he saw it was a woman. Why would they put him in a room with a woman his drugged brains wondered?
Noticing he was awake, she looked at him in merry amusement, “So ya' feeling better now hon?”
Floating, a thousand miles away due to the meds, John head just sort of wobbled when he tried to nod.
“You don't recognize me do ya' dear?” she ginned.
Pushing his mushy mind, he tried to remember her. She was kind of nice looking and definitely deserving of a second look, when he suddenly realized that this was the same person they had found beaten. John knew something was wrong. Her face was softer and she now had breasts that she hadn't had before!
Seeing the recognition in his eyes, she ran her hands down her very feminine torso, “Your buddies do great work, doll!”
John felt himself start to 'grow' aroused and blushed. Glancing down at his own groin to try and see how badly he was embarrassing himself by 'tenting', he saw not just the 'tent' but a pair of mounds as well. In shock, he grasped 'them' and 'felt' how real they were. With his mouth gaping like a fish he turned to his roommate.
“Welcome to the wild-side, hon,” she smiled looking right at his 'extras'.
At the sound of the screams coming from the room, nurses scrambled to get past the NYPD that guarded room.
Robert Napier pushed up his glasses after reading the report of the 'Incident.' According to the professor, John's freezing up and not immediately helping that transvestite was, to the Teralians, the same as not helping an injured child.
Despite themselves, they saw the t-girl as one of their own cherished s'him's and that a triggered a protective response from the Triad.
No one had a clue on how this Be'fal had changed the t-girl and John, but change them the s'him did. They were still human but they now had female secondary sexual characteristics as well as being fully functional as males.
They had known the jellyfish like hair had a part in their reproductive cycle, but how this happened was a mystery to the Teralians as well.
The Aliens had apologized, but had made no response when asked to 'cure' John. Since they had most everything they wanted, they had chosen to depart earlier than first scheduled. Most of Earth's governments were glad to see them gone.
Picking up another report, Robert Napier read about another Alien group asking for contact. Humanity had had no confirmed alien contact in all recorded history and now two first contacts with Aliens in one year. Well, he was going to retire next year anyway. Maybe they would have more luck with this Galactic Organization for Trade and this Celestial Help Association.
This is fan-fiction based on Heather Rose Brown's "Gender Express" She has kindly given me permission to post this story. This is fiction is not meant to represent any person alive or otherwise. Thanks for editing and proofing to our own Holly Happy Hart and Janet Nolan. Any mistakes are of course mine! Enjoy!
“Excuse me? Could you tell me the way to Gender Express, please?”
Mike jerked around surprised. He wasn't the kind of guy girls stop to ask directions from. Most found his burly appearance an affront in this age of metabolic enhancers and mall beauty enhancement shops.
Turning around he was pleased to see not one but six attractive women looking expectantly at him. They were as excited as a group of school girls on holiday. He guessed they were foreign tourists from their accent, and the way they kept referring to their wrist comps for translations.
Mike grinned at this unforeseen kismet so early in the morning. He tele-commuted, which let him set his own hours. He liked combining his love of people watching with the exercise he required as he was one of the few who wasn't able to benefit from most of the new medical advances.
Then it hit him just where this gaggle of foreign tourist wanted to go. Taking a second look pass their makeup and dresses, the truth was plain to see. The over large hands, height, Adam's apples and other clues slapped him in the face.
‘Hey, wait minute, these are all guys!’
Their enthusiasm and smiles died as they took his reaction for revulsion. A couple showed defiance, while others only had a sad expectation on their faces. One of them, however, winced as if struck and expecting a violent response from him.
If it was possible for him to feel more of a jerk, Mike didn't know how. As they began to turn warily away, “Ahhh... ladies, hmmm... I'm sorry. You surprised me, and I reacted badly. Please accept my apologies, and let me personally escort you to your destination?”
They circled around, appearing uncertain about accepting his offer. Finally, cautiously, the one who had first asked him for directions gestured for him to lead.
He decided the best method would be to keep to a slow easy walk and keep his eyes to himself, to help keep him from thinking about their condition. Hopefully that would keep him from insulting them further.
With the Sovereign State of Caforá±a's open policy on nano-tech, the tourism capitalizing on it was becoming increasingly important. Other countries were only slowly developing the medical aspects, or had restrictions on its use, causing it to be extravagantly priced.
Mike lead them back the main entrance and gave them a few seconds to orient themselves. “You should've gone left here and not right. It's down this way. There right between the Holo-portrait studio and Victoria's Secrets. There you go ladies, Gender Express.”
They stormed the entrance with an enthusiastic rush that made him smile, although the thought of what they were about to do to themselves made his stomach turn flip-flops.
A small brunette who was dressed a little less well than the others and carried an overnight bag stopped before entering. “Thank you for your help, yes?” she said in accented English.
Feeling badly, “It is I who should thank you. You helped brighten my day.” Sighing, “Go have a good life,” Mike tried to smile.
She tentatively returned his smile and turned to rejoin her sisters as they hurried to their rebirth.
Marie had saved every Euro she could to make this trip. She and her companions had traveled together to help reduce the costs. There were cheaper clinics, but Gender Express in the Sovereign State of Caforá±a was by far the best value.
She had second thoughts after Holly had asked for directions and gotten such a bad reaction. As fearful as she'd been, she'd held doubts about the wisdom of accepting his offer to guide them. He'd proven himself after he'd apologized, and led them to their goal after all.
The other girls were planning a major shopping spree to celebrate their new lives. She knew exactly what her finances would and would not permit. After careful research on-line she'd approximated what her new sizes would be, and carried a change with her.
It was over sooner than she'd thought and she was totally delighted with her new self. After dressing, she felt like dancing out the door!
“Ms.?” the smiling receptionist asked her.
“Ja?” Marie turned, smiling, feeling as if she was going to float away on happiness alone.
“A gentleman left this for you,” she said with a knowing grin.
Confused Marie took the greeting card. Her ability to read English was better than her ability to speak it. Opening the card, she found a handwritten note inside, as well a gift certificate to the holography studio.
It read, “May this help you remember this first day of the rest of your life.”
It was signed, “Your escort.”
Stepping outside she looked for the burly man from Caforá±a, but he was no where to be seen.
Behind her, she heard her companions remark about the certificates that he'd given to them as well. She wondered why the gift, and after taking one last look for the giver, turned to share her joy with her sisters.
Unseen, a burly figure sighed, “Maybe someday,” as he turned and ambled home and the work that awaited him.
This is your usual disclaimer. It's fiction people! It was inspired by a number of popular shows and movies, but I do believe that my take on them is all mine. That also mean that despite Cathy's best efforts all the mistake are mine. Please enjoy and take it in the spirit that it is meant. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to all and the rest of that Jazz!
My eyes opened to the light shining high above me. Enraptured by the sight, it filled me. Slowly, I became aware I was drifting away from the brightness into a darker, deeper gloom.
No.
As I formed the thought, I ceased sinking and began rising even as my hand reached for the light. It was strangely fuzzy and out of focus, but I knew it beckoned me upwards.
First surprise and then anger flowed though me as I bumped into something, a barrier keeping me from the light. Infuriated, I explored it with my hands. It was hard, and smooth, but transparent enough so the illuminated orb above me was visible even if it was distorted.
I flowed back and forth over the barrier like a water droplet over a pane of glass searching for a way through. My sluggish thoughts latched onto that image. If it was like glass, it could be broken. Using my increasing frustration, I drew back my fist striking the cause of my anger. It was as if the very forces of the earth herself were holding me back. My weak blow barely made a sound.
That fueled my wrath not with burning fire, but something else that was cold, so very cold. Not the mere chill of a winter's wind, but the frigid of absolute zero that's so intense it burns like the hottest fires.
The Light fractured into multitudes of splintered images as my prison exploded into a wide spiderweb as my right fist cracked into it like lightning. A second joined it as my left struck, sending a creaking groan across the imprisoning pane.
The shining orb was now only a diffracted mass, but it would be mine!
Focusing all of my energy I slammed both fists forward fueled by all my frustrations.
Like a missile erupting from an submerged submarine, I shot upwards in a towering geyser of ice and spray into the clear winter's night. Impossibly, I hung suspended in the air as, just as unbelievably, the falling water crystallized into snow that swirled around me. Even the larger chunks of ice slowed their fall and began a slow orbit about me as they shrank, shedding glittering particles that joined the icy dance of which I was the center.
Some part of me knows I should be freezing, but I'm not. All I have eyes for is the source of that Light. High above me the light of the full moon turned the world into stark black and white. Not able to look away, it was a communing that sang to my spirit.
A small voice within me objected. There's nothing mystical about the moon. It's just a big life-less rock orbiting about the Earth. Sure, I might know that, but what I felt was something else again.
It was as if I was a beloved child that'd been too long lost to her mother, and we both rejoiced in the reunion.
Like that same mother, she gently reminded me, I had matters that needed attending.
The snow and ice playfully twirled as I descended gracefully to the ice capped lake. The shattered opening, from which I'd escaped, was already icing over.
I knew I should be alarmed by all of this, but there was this curious disconnection with my past. All my memories seemed to be there, but that wasn't who I was in the now. Right here, I glowed with energy and vitality.
Looking down at myself, the ice crusted clothes I wore were ill-fitting and offended me greatly in a way I had trouble voicing. They were just wrong. Even so, that doubtful part of me objected to discarding them.
It's winter, it whispered. You need protection from the cold.
Ignoring its pleas, I wished them gone. The faithful winds and snows obeyed cleansing them from me in tornado of ice, but one that did not so much as strike me with a single stinging bite.
Free of those ugly things, I looked upon myself using the glazed over lake as my mirror.
My hair was long and the same color as the Lady Moon who shined above me. So fine its silvery strands danced in the wind about my so very fair complexioned face. Even my brows and lashes were the same luminous silver of the Moon. They edged my pale blue eyes perfectly and made my fair skin appear less pale and more fitting.
While all of that made my face appear somewhat severe, my lips were inviting if not the bee-stung pout so popular with today's media obsessed culture. Experimenting I found I could change their color from a icy blue to a shiny silver matching my hair.
Going further down, I was pleased at the high firm breasts that, although not big, appeared ample for my trim body. Perhaps not a body by Mae West, but one that would never be mistaken as male. The patch of silver hair capping the mound between my legs proved that.
I had a feeling of satisfaction, but also one of confusion as if I hadn't always been this way. Pushing that thought aside, I recalled my previous desire for clothes. Just the thought caused the merry sparkles to settle upon me clothing my body in a grown of white. Stepping forward, I slipped my feet into the shoes of ice that had formed from the lake.
That annoying voice insisted this had to be uncomfortable, cold and even life threatening, but it didn't feel like it to me. It simply felt right.
High above, the smiling Lady Moon reminded me of my tasks.
Returning her smile, the winds lifted me their arms again carrying me into the sky. Searching, I saw the fires of all of the little lives for miles around. The fish beneath the ice; the furry little ones hibernating in their burrows, and there... the much brighter lights of larger warm bloods, humans, as well as the constructions they'd built to keep them warm.
It took only moments for the winds to whisk me to the nearest of those. Without a sound, I set foot outside the small shack sitting on the frozen lake. Sensing the hole in the ice inside, I somehow knew this was how I'd been trapped in my prison and carried by the currents until I'd awakened quite some distance away.
“Damn it, Brady! You frakking redneck hick!” A gravelly voice cussed from inside the small shack. “If I'd wanted that damn rent-a-cop killed, I would've killed him myself. Now not only do we not have a hostage, but we have murder charges hanging over our heads. How could you be so stupid?”
“P'haps Ya'll right.” Brady drawled back. “I ain't all that smart, but ya'll better watch yer mouth. My daddy didn't take no back talk and I ain't much for it neither. That wanna-be faggot cop mouthed off, and he paid the price. Don't you be makin' the same mistake, Ron.”
“You threatening me, Brady?” Ron asked dangerously.
“Nope,” The other replied just as edgy. “Don't make threats, just promises. Ain't no cause for us to get in each other's faces. We done the deed and got away with it, 'cept for that idiot guard who is feedin' the fishes right now. All that's left is to deliver that crown to the buyers. Good as done!”
Outside, I had vague memories of Brady and Ron and they weren't pleasant. I felt my so very cold anger rising again.
It was time.
Six Hours before:
Being a security guard was generally pretty damn boring, and working Christmas Eve night sucked. However, Karl smiled as he swiped his Detex card on the watchman pad. It would record the exact time he passed this way so his anal retentive bosses had proof he was actually walking his rounds. Normally it bugged the hell out of him to be tied to the damned, very predictable schedule, but this job was different.
Hurrying, he made it to the special exhibit hall so he had a little time to spare before having to race to the next watchman station. The security with this assignment was almost as tight as that of the fabled King Tut tour years and years ago. That was why he and the rest of the Smackenhut security officers were here as an extra precaution.
Despite the number of times he'd seen it, the real show piece of the tour never ceased to amaze him. With the popularity of the exhibit and the madness of the holiday crowds, stealing a few minutes from his rounds was the only way he got to see it. Walking up to the rope that kept the curious from getting too close to the secure, bulletproof display case, Karl swore he could almost hear an orchestra playing dramatic music.
Resting on a purple velvet cushion was a crown, but it wasn't made of gold. In its front was a hand-sized, leaf-shaped, leaded cut crystal which had silver veins running though it. Braided together on either side with fine silver wire were diamonds cut like stylized icicles, forming the rest of the crown's headband.
Most wondered from just reading about it, why the crystal was, pardon the pun, in the crowning position among all the diamonds. The reason why had to be seen, preferably in person. In an outstanding display of craftsmanship the diamond's facets were cut just so to channel all the light to the centerpiece. The silver veins in the crystal blazed with icy light, The Snow Queen's Crown.
Of course that was just part of the huge bounty that had been discovered. Silver and gold jewelry, as well as ancient coins, were displayed in the other cases of the exhibit. Ornate daggers, cups and other artifacts signalized that all this had belonged to a person of very high status.
Karl took a deep breath as he pulled his eyes away from the light. Even in the museum's dim, night time lighting, the Crown blazed as brightly as any of the other treasures, and all light was channeled into the crystal. The silver streaks in the amazing glass glowed like electric filaments, making the inner light all that much brighter.
Needless to say, that bought all the crystal power nuts out of the closet, making all sorts of wild claims about its supposedly mystic powers. He thought they were entirely missing the point that this one of a kind creation that had been crafted by the hand and ingenuity of man. No magic was required for this magnificent work of art.
Chuckling, he passed the placard explaining how the discovery had been made. A construction worker on the rather remote and very northern Norwegian island of Spitsbergen had been clearing a lot. While laying down a foundation, he stumbled across the find of the century.
Being a very small and remote community it was impossible to hide what he'd found, even if he'd tried. Everyone was awed at the amount and size of the treasure. Again, another pun, the crowning piece was the Crown, whose workmanship and preservation was simply remarkable.
It was, he thought, inevitable that it would be called The Snow Queen's Crown after the Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale. In the story, the Snow Queen's palace was on the island, although in truth no one really knew just where all the treasure came from. Archaeologists were still investigating the area, but the arctic conditions made such things very difficult and provided only the short summer in which access was available at all.
The good news was that the restricted circumstances kept the opportunistic treasure hunters mostly at bay, letting the science guys do their job. On the other hand, it must be nice to find something really amazing like that. The only things he'd ever found were pennies, dimes and the occasional quarter.
Glancing at the wrist watch he'd begun carrying with him since he started this job, he had just enough time to hoof it to the next watchman pad. However, if he hadn't lagged behind a bit, he never would've seen the two guys coming up out of the grate in the floor.
“Are you sure none of guards are around?” A loud whisper with a very distinct southern drawl asked.
“Keep it down.” The other cautioned. “ I told you, my cousin hacked their computers and got their watch schedules. The guard is all the way at the other end of the hallway and won't be back this way for a hour. Just so you won't ask again, my cousin got the camera's on a loop so they won't see a thing.”
Karl knelt behind a case so he wouldn't be seen. “Code 459 in the special exhibit hall.” He whispered into his radio, but nothing answered him.
Crap!
He wasn't armed. In reality he was just a low cost mobile organic warning system meant to serve as a deterrent and to give the alarm when the more sophisticated electronic ones failed. If these guys were armed he was in real trouble. The layout of the exhibit hall was set up for display and not conducive for sneaking.
A quick check of his radio showed it was on and yes it was broadcasting. From what he'd overheard, that suggested that the bad guys tech support was impressive which could mean his radio was being jammed somehow.
Reaching up past the boundary ropes, he touched the glass of the exhibit case. They'd been told all the cases had alarm systems and not to touch them. Pushing as hard as he dared Karl could only hope that would be enough to warn the guys back in the security center. There was one last trick he could pull. Keying his mike again, in one long and then one short burst, Code R, the carrier signal might get though whatever was killing the voice signal. Code R had replaced the old emergency SOS years ago.
As silently as he could Karl began working his way further from the burglars keeping low and hidden behind the display cases while sending his Code R.
“Why don't you just stop right thare Porky.” A cold southern voice commanded as Karl came nose to nose with the dark barrel of an automatic pistol.
Not being a hero, he did exactly what the man with the gun said. It was company policy and common sense. It did concern him that the man wasn't wearing a mask, although the low light did shadow the face.
“Don't shoot.” Karl replied, trying not to freak out.
“On yer feet, and turn around slow like.” The bad guy with the accent commanded.
In short order, he was stripped of his equipment belt, radio, and everything in his pockets. His hands were zip-tied behind him. The SOB even went so far as to yank down his uniform trousers.
That was a problem.
“Let's see you try and run with your pants around yer ankles.” The aforementioned robber then chuckled nastily. “Oh what have we here? Hey Ron, this cop wanna-be is wearing women's panties.”
“No names!” Hissed another voice from near the Snow Queen Crown's pedestal.
Burning red, Karl's face was filled with shame and embarrassment. His secret vice had dragged him down for years. It'd cost him his marriage, and more jobs and other opportunities than he could count. He knew he was capable of much more, but somehow he was never able to reach it. That was why he was stuck working here in the big city doing the lowest of the low, the bottom rung in security.
With child support payments for his daughter, he barely made ends meet at all working this and his other job doing part-time stocking at a dollar store. However it was all worth it. No matter the problems between him and The Ex, Karl loved his little girl, Kara. His heart melted every time he thought about her. It was an additional stab in his heart when The Ex moved them back with her parents way down south, and so far away he never got to see his daughter, only talk to her on the phone.
On the other hand, the working nights thing brought its own problems with the insistence of Smackenhut on the clean cut male authority figure image. Long hair, nails or any other visible feminine touchstone was denied him. That was why the holiday themed panties he'd ordered from the internet.
The red lace boyshorts panties with their cute embroidered Christmas bells and holly were anything, but masculine. It was perfect at letting him secretly express that forbidden femininity of his inner heart as well as celebrating the Christmas spirit in his own quiet way.
Of course he never counted on being involved in a robbery or having some crazed redneck with a gun pull his pants down.
“Stop playing with the rent-a-cop and get over here.” Ron ordered. “My brother thinks he stopped the alarm from going out, but doesn't know for sure.”
“You heard the man, Porky.” The Redneck poked Karl in the back. A detached part of his mind identified it a Beretta 92, possibly a stolen Army M9.
Awkwardly, he complied moving as fast as he could shuffle under the circumstances. Nasty snickers and powerful shoves from behind urged him to go faster, but there were just so much he could do.
“You would be so popular in the Big House thare Porky!” The felon jeered.
“Damn, you were right.” Ron said, turning his attention from the Crown. “The rent-a-cop is wearing panties.”
“Not that I've got anything against that alternative lifestyle thing. My brother is as bent as a three dollar bill, but he's still my brother, you know. However, you have given us a problem. If you behave yourself, you'll walk out of this alive, but if you don't ...”
He left the last hanging. Karl knew exactly what he meant. The Redneck's gun at his back made that perfectly clear. “I understand.”
“Good.” Ron stated, with silent menace.
“Now stop playing with the pretty-boy and get over here.” He said to the Redneck. “It's time for you earn your cut.”
The Redneck stopped by me. “I'll be watchin' you Porky.”
In the light of the Crown Karl was surprised to find out both Ron and the Redneck were Blacks. Okay, maybe he'd misread the Southerner, but he'd grown up in the deep south himself. He knew that, skin color aside, there where very little differences between the accents of Southern Whites and Blacks. However, something about this seemed off.
In the meanwhile, he'd taken a grip on the Crown's display case. Karl saw that wires had been attacked to the base bypassing the alarm system, but surely they didn't intend on lifting it off? It was part of the security that the damn thing was heavy as hell needing a modified forklift to open the case.
Grunting, the Redneck did the impossible! Slowly the heavy bullet and tamper proof case rose as Ron swiftly inserted instruments under the cushion the Crown rested. Just as quickly, his gloved hands removed the Crown and substituted a fake.
Karl could immediately tell the difference. Although it looked the same, the same radiance from the jewels and crystal was missing.”
“Got it!” Ron whispered. “Okay lower it, gently!”
“Easy fer you to say.” Redneck snarled under the strain.
That's when Karl also got it. Neither man wore a mask nor seemed concerned he saw them. No, the clue was that the man struggling under that incredible weight wasn't sweating.
Ruling out him being an alien or a cyborg, that left Mission: Impossible. In other words they really were wearing very realistic face masks. Thinking about it, the whole thing made sense. Ron obviously was the brains of this bunch and had a thing about the high tech. The whole Black thing added up too, providing a measure of concealment.
That did not change the fact Redneck was one strong frakker who also had a gun, no matter who was the mastermind.
Karl concentrated on other things about the two. How tall were they? What kind of builds did they have? Anything to help the police catch these two.
Once Redneck had the case in place, Ron very competently removed all of his alarm bypasses as the strongman bent over breathing hard. Then the two put the Crown in a padded case.
Then everything got complicated.
“Security! Freeze!”
Moving like lightning, Redneck had his gun out and to Karl's head before anyone could even blink.
“I got me a better idea.” The man with the gun said dryly. “Ya'll put your piece on the floor and this here guard's brains don't end up messin' up this pretty room.”
Karl was really regretting giving out the alarm now. He could feel the cold pistol's barrel against his temple.
Instead, whichever guard had found them had quickly retreated. Which Karl supposed was a good thing, since it kept another hostage from joining him.
“Damn,” cursed Ron. “So much for doing this the easy way.” He pulled a folded packet from the bag on his belt.
“I'm really beginning not to like you.” Ron muttered to Karl as he unfolded the Mylar space-blanket like material.
Karl was surprised to find that he could see out just fine but no one could see in. it was like a like a flexible one way mirror. Their plan was clear. With the blanket obscuring just where he was, police snipers had just as good a chance of hitting him as one of the bad guys.
That was bad. Not only had they prepared for taking a hostage, but had planned for it. That would put them a step ahead of the good guys, which was not a good thing for him.
Ron muttered some more when he had to pull Karl's trousers back up, but Redneck grinned at his partner's discomfort.
Karl soon found himself being frog-marched to the exit. Once again he was amazed and frightened by how strong the Redneck was. Even with just one hand he yanked the night watchman about like a puppet.
Went they reached the doors, there was a lot of confusing shouting, and screeching of tires. Karl knew he should be paying more attention, but that gun to his head was a distraction he couldn't overcome. Perhaps not entirely, but at least partly, because he was still searching for clues to these yahoo's identities.
He'd gotten tossed in the back of the van that'd run past the still arriving cops, which made him add one goon more to this gang. Ron and Redneck were two and Tech Support, Ron's brother made three. However, the wheel-man made four. It was possible Ron's brother was behind the wheel, but Karl wouldn't bet on it. Motor-heads and computer geeks tended to run in different circles, and not have the same interests.
Rolling around in the back of the van, as its engine roar, accented by the pursuing police sirens, got louder, he guessed the driver knew what he was doing. Maybe he wasn't Jason Statham in The Transporter, but Karl could tell, that even at the high speeds they were moving, the van was under smooth control.
Collecting more bruises then he wanted to think about and having his arms and shoulders wrenched about every time the driver hung a sharp turn, Karl tried to wedge himself in the cargo space to help keep from bouncing around. Panic was gathering on the borders of his sanity again, but thoughts of his daughter kept him hanging on. Fear was the mind killer, just like that old SF novel proclaimed. As long as he kept thinking he still had a chance at getting out of this alive.
Maybe he wasn't much of a man or a father, but his daughter needed him. Perhaps it was only for the money he made working two jobs or whatever comfort he could give talking to her on the phone, but it was still something.
Crowing laughter from the front of the van as it stopped suddenly wasn't a good sign.
“Damn Ron!” The Redneck yelled, “That was some slick shit. I don't like fags much, but your brother shore' pulled a fast one with them traffic lights. Them pigs got red-lighted but good!”
“Ron's brother my ass, Brady!” A new voice spoke up. “It was my driving that got us away free and clean. Now get your ass out and peel off that false color. The cops won't stay fooled for long.”
“Damn it you two.” Ron yelled at them. “No names! We still have the rent-a-cop in the back, remember?”
“Ah wouldn't worry about Porky too much,” Brady the Redneck remarked. “He's probably dun' loaded his britches but good by now. Besides we got away clean. We don' need him no more.” The tone of his voice clearly said Karl was now disposable.
Right then the aforementioned 'expendable' decided it was a very good idea to play dumb. It just might keep him alive.
He heard the doors opening, and the sounds of something happening outside on the van. It kind of sounded like tape being pulled off. Did they have the van covered in some kind of colored film they could remove to throw off pursuit?
That would appear to be a yes, as the side door slid open and a garbage bag full of crinkling sounding, yet light, stuff bounced off of him. That was followed by a license plate that twirled about before fastening itself to the van's wall.
Magnets, Karl reasoned and probably powerful ones of the rare earths variety given the way it nearly leaped at the metal side. It was just more proof this heist had been carefully planned with backups and preparation. As a guess it was Ron or this brother of his who'd done the planning for all of this from the sound of their talking.
The driver spoke with the same drawl that Brady had, if somewhat less pronounced. Two sets of brothers perhaps?
The van lurched back into traffic at a somewhat more sedate pace. Karl soon ran into the problem of losing track of the time. At a guess they'd spent time on the interstate and then had turned off. He tried to keep track of the stops and turns, but soon lost count.
Then they turned onto what had to be a dirt road. The bumps, sliding and thumps added to his collection of indignities and hurts. Finally, they stopped.
“You stay in the van.” Ron snapped at the driver. “Brady you get the hostage into the shack.”
“Bro.” The driver grumbled. “I think Ronnie's having a bad day.”
“Well, ya'll know how he gets when one of his plans don't pan out.” Brady replied back.
“No.” The other laughed. “But I'm a'learnin'.”
“Move it, Brady!” Ron called.
“Keep your britches on.” He yelled, back. “I'm a'comin'.”
The van's side door slid open.
“Come on, Pork.” Brady pulled me out the van. “We gonna' sit a spell.”
He didn't get much time to look around as the redneck manhandled me into a small shack out in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't until we were inside that he recognized it was an ice shack sitting out on the ice on a lake.
The hole in the center of the floor was a dead giveaway. The fact it was large enough for him to fall though sent shivers up and down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Karl knew that Brady wouldn't hesitate to push him into the freezing water.
“Well, Pork.” Brady said to his face. “I can see it in your eyes you know what I'll do if you don't behave yourself. Just sit down and be quiet.”
Karl nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The other man's breath stank from the too sweet stench of a heavy smoker and that was on top of the bad hygiene of half rotted teeth. He forced himself not flinch as he was tied to the chair.
“For Gawd's sake, Brady.” Ron said, as it put the Ice Queen's Crown's case on the single table next to the camping lamp. “Don't kill the rent-a-cop and keep an eye on our acquisition.”
“Ain't a problem.” Brady grinned, as he lit a cigarette from the small heater. “We just gonna sit here like old friends, ain't we, Pork?”
Karl figured the best response was to keep his mouth shut, which was just as well since criminals ignored him.
“Just see that you do.” Ron glared at his partner. “This is going to be a big payday for us. Don't screw it up.”
Brady glared right back at the door as it shut behind the theft's mastermind.
It was then that Karl saw he was in very serious trouble as the man peeled off the concealing silicon mask. The nasty smirk it revealed nothing good. When the unmasked man reached into a bag and pulled out a liquor bottle, Karl knew he was going die.
There was no way Brady was going to let him live after seeing his real face. Watching him get liquored up was a guarantee that it was going to be … unpleasant. The helplessness was as bad as the anticipation of what was coming.
It was all of his fears come true. The wolf faced man was strong, intolerant, and seemingly proud of his ignorance. Brady was very personification of why he'd kept his feminine heart hidden for so very long.
Even Ron's grudging acceptance of his gay brother was only because of his blood relationship and usefulness to his schemes. That was very far from a loving and caring relationship.
So strange that now that this oldest of his nightmares was here, he felt only a weary pessimistic almost relief that it was finally here so he could stop worrying about it. He was ready for this to be over.
Karl's only regret was that he would never see or talk to his daughter again.
Taking a long pull, on the bottle Brady stared at him as if his very existence offended him. If anything Karl's fatalistic attitude just added fuel to the man's hot temper.
Stalking to his immobilized hostage, Karl held up the bottle.
“Open your mouth, drink” He ordered, the cigarette dangling from his lip dropping ash.
With a shake of his head, Karl stayed silent.
“I said, drink!” Brady grabbed the helpless man's face forcing his mouth open as he poured the fiery distilled spirits.
“I canna' drink alone.” He snarled. “I ain't no alcoholic.”
Eyes tearing and choking on the liquid fire, Karl fought to breathe.
“Ya'll not any kind of real man at all are you?” Brady spat with disgust. “A real man can hold his liquor.”
Karl shook from the coughing and the cold. He wasn't remotely dressed for this in only his security uniform. The single small heater didn't help warm the uninsulated shack very much. The constant chain smoking didn't help either quickly filling up the small space with smoke. However, he knew no good would come of saying anything about it. He very much doubted his captor would lend a sympathetic ear.
The only respite was the small window which let in chilly and yet fresh air from a crack. Moonlight shined though
Brady kept glaring at him, but all Karl could do was keep his eyes to himself. Like being in a cage with a wild animal he didn't dare meet the other's eyes. The bottle was half-full and then only three-quarters as he became drunk and then drunker.
“You ain't nuthin', but a Drag Queen.” He slurred, lighting yet another cigarette from the butt of the previous one.
Brady's eyes fell on the Crown's case.
“Every Queen needs to have her crown.” He walked with that exaggerated care experienced drunks learn.
“No, you can't.” The minute Karl opened his mouth he knew it was a mistake. However, the crown was a priceless artifact.
The redneck sent him a killing glare.
“It's just wire and glass. Think about what would happened if it got damaged.” Karl tried to recover from his mistake.
“No one!” Brady roared, somehow keeping his cigarette from falling from his mouth. “tells me what to do! Much less some F'ing faery in panties!”
Karl cringed as the redneck ripped opened the case. At least the drunk had on gloves.
Holding his breath, as the Crown was taken from its protection, Karl sat as still as he could. It was all he could do to keep the priceless item safe. As it was roughly placed on his head, he could feel the cold of the glass and wire.
Somehow it didn't have the same chill as the slight breeze that was his only fresh air. Karl had never thought of there being different kinds of cold like this one. It was the cool comfort on a hot day or the relieving ice of a cold pack on a throbbing injury. The Crown soothed and comforted him.
“Now yer a real Queen!” Brady took another long pull from his bottle.
Then the moon's light shined through the window upon the Crown.
The lantern's light faded as Luna's Light overcame all.
Karl was awed by the brightness shined by the Crown. At the same time he could feel 'something' although he didn't know what to call it. As if his whole soul, being, all of him, was bathed in the moonlight, he felt clean, renewed. At the same time, that 'something' was looking at him. It wasn't as if he was being judged, but like a doctor examining every single inch of him. No, it was 'her' that was revealed, because all the lies, masks, and half-truths he'd hidden behind had been washed away.
“Holy Jesus!” The redneck stood in the light like a startled deer. “Temptress!”
Abruptly, the light went dark as the redneck snatched the Crown from Karl's head
“Like hell!” Brady yelled, his eyes wild with fear as he held the head piece.
Karl blinked in the sudden dark darkness. There was this sense of having been on the edge of something wonderful, but it'd been snatched away.
“Like my Daddy always said.” Brady shouted, in near hysterics. “If something scares you, kill it!”
With that he kicked Karl's chair over next to the ice skimmed hole.
“No!” He gasped, the icy waters only inches away.
“Yes!” Brady growled, as he kicked again. “I canna' bust up this thing, but I can kill you!”
Karl tried to yell again, but the cold stole his breath. It took everything from him until only the light and his life were left. Then it took those too.
<><><><><>
A quarter mile away I spotted the heat of vehicle waiting on the shore. Ron's snowmobile tracks came from that direction. In a swirl of ice, I flew following his trail to a very familiar looking van.
I spared a glance at the driver and passenger huddled inside for warmth with their vehicle's heater going full blast. They both strongly resembled their brothers. The driver's face was much like Brady's. He also shared a nicotine habit since a cigarette dangled from his mouth.
Ron's sibling was typing away on a laptop, but it was plain the two did not care for each other. Even with the cold, they preferred to stay as far from each other as they could.
However, their faces triggered more memories as I floated above them unseen. Slowly I began to understand what had happened this night.
It took only a thought to steal the heat from that smoldering ember. His eyes were wide in astonishment, but I had no quarrel with him. However, I couldn't have him warning the two in the cabin. The van's motor stopped and the battery case cracked as the fuel and acids froze solid. You just have to get it cold enough.
The passenger simply stared wide-eyed at me the whole time. Seeing no threat I ignored them both.
I smiled as I thought about how they would see this, as I soared over the frozen lake.
The shack's normal wintry appearance suddenly went off the scale as it suddenly became shrouded in a thick layer of frost. They could feel the intense cold as the wind gusted across the lake.
“What the f'ing hell is going on here, Ron?” Brady cussed.
“Damn if I know.” The Mastermind replied, shaking his head..
The frozen shack's door shattered into small shards with a loud crack revealing a pale woman clad in nothing but glittering frost and ice.
“You should know Brady.” my voice was soft, but carried an icy edge. “After all you're the one who crowned me.”
“What is she talking about, Brady?” Ron demanded. “And just who the hell are you anyways?” He aimed his pistol at me.
“Brady?” Ron glanced at his partner who'd turned white with shock.
Simple was always best as a blinding flurry of ice and snow roared into the small cabin. The case with the Crown flew into my hands, as I let the small controlled blizzard fade away.
“I'm the Ice Queen.”
“And I'm a Monkey's Uncle.” Ron snapped back, shielding his eyes with his free hand. “Put the case on the ground.”
“Now!” He ordered, aiming his pistol.
“Not ground but ice.” I looked downwards as if getting a better look. “About six inches thick. The nearest ground is around a quarter of mile behind you or forty feet down.”
“Just put it down.” He waved the pistol for emphasis.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ron barked at Brady.
“I killed you.” The Redneck hoarsely whispered. “Yer dead.”
“As you wish.” I said to Ron.
“I got better.” Winking at Brady, I knelt placing the box down using the distraction to open the case's clasp.
The wind picked up and it began to snow again. I smiled since there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the crystal clear night promising very cold temperatures.
Very deliberately I sent ice into the gun barrels sealing them tight. There had been enough evil this night, but I would not suffer again at the hands of these men.
“Brady!” Ron shouted, over the increasingly hard driven snow. “Get your head out of your ass. Get that damn case!”
The Redneck, although he did do his best to withstand the weather forcing them back against the cabin wall, just stared at me.
Unlike them, I was untouched by the wintry conditions aside from being clothed in my raiment of icy crystals. The moon light beamed down upon me like a celestial spotlight.
“Brady!” The Mastermind screamed. “What the hell is going on?”
“I dun kilt an Angel.” The Redneck whispered letting the gun slip from his fingers as he fell to his knees.
The opportunity was too good to pass up. Ice swirled skyward as the wind spun about me. Flipping the case open, I lifted the crown out, holding it high. The Crown blazed brighter that the sun as it found the Moonlight.
Still kneeling, I could feel the light upon me like a physical presence. In a glorious orchestra only I hear, I placed the Crown on my head.
“What the ...” Ron stared disbelievingly at my second coronation.
As for Brady, I think he got broken somewhere between where he crowned the man I'd been and now. His eyes were fixed on me. Perhaps, I could grasp why he thought I was an angel given my frosty white dress, but I still had not forgiven him. My anger still smoldered.
White, in days past, wasn't the color of purity at all, but of death. Winter's white shroud signaled starvation and hardship. It was the sleep from which some never wakened, but it was also a time for renewal.
No, I couldn't forgive him, but just maybe he could forgive himself.
All was forgotten as the Lady Moon shined down upon me on that frozen lake. The Crown impossibly blazed even brighter as she acknowledged as the reborn Winter Queen.
Brady bowed his head before the radiance even as Ron shielded his eyes slacked jaw at the blatant defiance to his world view.
They weren't the only ones, My senses stretched to cover the whole of our ailing Mother Earth. It was like one of those videos where you start out looking at a beautiful winter scene, but is carried skyward as your vision expands until you're seeing the whole planet.
Like peering at a puzzle that was missing pieces, I knew something was wrong, out of balance. While I could fill in some of the missing parts, others had to be healed by those with different talents. The best I could do was to start lessening some of the hurt, but I had to be careful. Like the proverb of the man with a hammer, the only tool I had to hand was the Winter. The trick was to restore as much of the balance as I could without pushing it too much the other way.
The other players in this drama were needed to fix this. However I had not a clue of who or what they were. It was possible that other artifacts were lost or hidden that would release them like the Crown had caused my rebirth.
I would have to find out.
However first there were other things to attend to.
“You have three choices.” I told Ron and Brady.
“You can stay and hide in the shack.” I let the winds dance around me. “Two, you can walk the quarter mile back to shore where your brothers are stranded with a busted van.”
“Or three,” My face showed only the icy cold I felt for them. “I can carry you both to civilization which will be a police station. Two of the three will likely result in your freezing to death.
“Choose wisely.” I lifted off the ice, clearly showing them I was hovering.
Ron looked at his ice fouled pistol and with a disgusted snort dropped it.
“Being in jail is better than being dead.” He replied. “What about our brothers? It's miles to anyplace where they can get help.”
“Assuming they haven't already called for help.” I beckoned the elemental forces to me. “You can tell the authorities where they are.”
Then in a icy tornado, we were carried away.
Leaving the two, half-frozen, but still alive at the police station, I turned south. It was important I not be seen. I'd no idea if that collector who hired Ron had other reasons besides the Crown's uniqueness to covet it. I would take no chances on being seen, not yet.
The further south I traveled the warmer it became. I would even admit to being lost a few times. Road signs aren't visible from the air, but neither could I ask for directions. Besides I did know the way from times in the past when as a family we had journeyed to The Ex's parents.
I even knew the very window I needed since she'd told me it was her mother's childhood room. Her warmth pulsed in time to her heart just like I could sense all life since my change. This one, however, was special because it belonged to my daughter.
For all that I wondered if I was even human anymore, she still had my heart, soul, and always my love.
Looking at the other occupants, I could see they hadn't been to bed long. The plentiful presents and gifts under the tree for their granddaughter told why. She would have no shortage of gifts, but one I knew that one would not be forthcoming was me. Our last call, she'd said how much she wanted to see me, but that would not happen ever again.
That man, her father, was gone. Now there was only me, The Ice Queen, the ruler of Winter. I would trade it all away despite the ordeal my life had always been for her. I couldn't even promise myself that I could be there when she needed me. There was no telling where my new position would lead me or how long I might it might take.
So much sadness was coming her way. My daughter would think I was dead and, despite how bitterly my Ex turned on me, I would like to think she would miss me too. Even if only the child support payments, but they would be getting my insurance what there was of it. After taking care of my debts it wouldn't be much.
However, there was something I could do in the here and now
Breathing on the window. Frost formed a fantastic pattern all over the panes as I left my message to those I loved. Lowering the temperature, so it would last a while, I made certain not to interfere with the weather as a whole. This was strictly a micro-climate change. Pulling moisture from there and adding cold there were as naturally to me as breathing. Not rushing things, I let things slowly mix together so they would be ready when the time was right.
Then I settled down to watch my daughter sleep for the rest of the early Christmas morning. There would be time enough to save the world tomorrow.
Epilogue
“It's snowing!” The little girl stared out the frosted window.
So excited she didn't see the one who watched her as she ran from the room. She did not know which was the more important, Christmas or the so very rare snowfall. Thinking hard she decided that playing in the snow had precedence since it was sure to melt before noon.
Dressing in a fury of seldom used winter clothing, she missed seeing her mother's shocked face as she spoke on the phone. The door closing behind her, muffled the tears from the crying woman.
Tiring of making snow angels, she busily began building a snowman. Rolling the the ever growing snowball, she laughed and giggled at how easy it was. It was as if the snow itself was helping her. Even when she had to lift the snowman's tummy and head into place it wasn't as hard as she thought it would be.
As she adjusted the head so it wouldn't roll off, she had a moment's satisfaction, before going off and finding arms, a hat and all the other stuff a snowman needed. The sun was already out and she knew that meant she was on a time limit.
It was then that the wind kicked up spraying ice and snow that glittered and shined in the sunlight. She held her breath as like magic it swirled around her snowman in a dazzling light show. It built to a crescendo that was better than anything she'd seen on TV because she was here feeling the chilling wind and the icy snow as it blew past her.
Just as suddenly as it began the tornado of lights faded away, but her snowman was gone. In its place was a beautiful woman dressed in white and wearing the Snow Queen's Crown!
“Kara,” The Queen waved her hand at the winter wonderland about them. “This is a present from your father.”
“Daddy's here?” She asked, excitedly.
“No.” The woman replied, strangely sad. “I have a message for you from him. Walk with me.”
“Did something happen to my Daddy?” She felt the tears well up. The divorce had not been easy although she didn't entirely understand why her parents had split up. She loved both her Mommy and Daddy.
“He did a brave, brave thing and saved my Crown,” The Queen replied with glittering tears running down her pale cheeks. “Soon your mother will call you in, but will you first let me tell you of how he saved my Crown?”
“Please.” The girl's heartbroken voice was barely a whisper, taking the woman's hand.
They walked together with their footsteps leaving no sign of their passing as the snow danced behind them.
All of us dream even if they don't grace us with the memories of those faraway journeys. However, for some of us, those dreams are more, inspiring the stories we tell and write. There are those of us who can only truly live in our dreams, because reality is so harsh and unforgiving. It is to all of those this story is dedicated. All hail the Dreamers!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Of course Cathy gets more thanks because of taking the time to make my scribbles make sense. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
George returned back to where he grew up still seeking that one place where he fits in. Never did he expect to find himself in a messy tangle of dark magics, ancient promises, and a power hungry hoodoo doctor. Just maybe if his crazed luck can just stay with him long enough, he'll finally find his place under the sun.
Last week J. Crew caused some controversy with an Ad they ran portraying a mother painting her son's toenails pink. One of the commenters stated/asked "Why would I paint my son's nails?" I couldn't help myself, but answer them with a story.
This is fiction that was inspired by the above. Thanks to Cathy for her edit and as always her friendship.
Maria looked up from the fresh coat of neon pink polish she’d just brushed onto her toenails. She enjoyed the little touches that made her feel feminine despite all the demands on her time as wife, mother, and everything else expected of a woman of the 21st century.
Shyly her six year old son Josh was peeking around the corner of the door. He was old enough to understand that interrupting her while bathing was not a good thing, but she was dressed now. She was now on the, hmmm, finishing touches.
Her smile let him know it was all right to come in.
The way his face lit up grinning as he bounced in made her want to take him in her arms and laugh her joy to the world. That smile was just one of the wonderful things about being a mother. Sure all too soon she would get a sullen teenager, but she would always have these memories.
“What cha’ doing Mommy?” Josh asked his pug nose winkling from the smell of the nail polish.
“I’m painting my nails.” She wondered where this had come from since he’d seen her paint her nails before. Taking the applicator she carefully began painting her left hand’s nails.
He watched her as she finished with her pinkie finger.
“Your pinkie finger is pink,” he giggled wide eyed. And then more serious he asked, “Why?”
Maria knew without a question what he really wanted to know.
“I paint my nails so I can look pretty for Daddy when we go out tonight.” She told him with another smile.
Her heart glowed at his silly ‘I thinking’ expression as he thought about it. Then he broke out into another wide grin.
“Can I be pretty too?” He asked, wiggling his little fingers at her.
She found herself having to freeze her smile in place surprised at his question. Long practice had shown how he could misinterpret things sometimes. However that didn’t keep her thoughts from racing wild. Was her son gay or one of those kids who had gender problems? And any number of other crazy ideas.
Looking into his eyes, she decided to treat this exactly how it looked. A curious, smart boy saw his mother doing something and wanted to do it too. Just like he tried to help with the laundry by pushing the dirty clothes basket, or the greasy mess he made helping his Father in the garage.
“You can,” she replied, “But you do know that boys don’t paint their nails? They can get teased like your cousin George did after his haircut.” Maria reminded him of everyone’s reaction to the curly blond hair. Sure her sister-in-law had the kid in one of those children’s beauty contests, but that ‘do’ was really over the top. That curly blond mop as cute as it was, still got poor George teased till he was in tears.
Josh’s eyes got big again. He obviously didn’t like the idea of being made fun of, but then he looked at her toes. She could almost see the wheels turning inside.
“Can I just do my toes,” he asked. “Then no one could see.”
“But then no one would know you were being pretty,” she replied.
She watched him think hard about it again and saw as he came up with an answer.
“We would know!” Her son nearly squealed in happiness.
“Are you absolutely certain,” Maria asked very seriously.
Just as solemnly he nodded.
Picking him up and setting him on her dresser she got to work. His little toes were so small, each just needed a drab of polish. Looking up, she could see Josh intently following her every move in the way only a child could.
“There all done.” She touched the tip of nose making him giggle. “Now you have to wait for it to dry. If you smudge it or get polish on something else, they won’t be pretty.”
They both heard the backdoor open and close.
“I’m home,” her husband bellowed.
“Daddy’s home!” Josh jumped down and ran out.
Hoping he wouldn’t get polish on anything, she began finishing getting ready. A nuzzle on her neck sensually informed her, Dave had escaped Josh’s enthusiastic welcoming home.
“Why hello there handsome,” she purred.
“Hello yourself,” he lovingly growled back. “This may seem like a strange question, but why does our son have pink toe nails?”
Twisting around to face him, she told him what happened, and added, “Besides I seem to remember the first time we met, you were wearing not only nail polish, but lipstick and eyeliner too mister.”
Looking hurt, he defended his masculinity. “But it was black and not pink. It was heavy metal concert. I wasn’t trying to look pretty. I was looking cool,” he said, striking a pose convinced of his infallibility.
“You were pretty.” Huskily Maria stared into his eyes.
“I was?” His face fell.
“In a cute Goth kinda of way.” She smiled.
“Oh darn!” He said disappointingly.
“Why do you think I married you?” She teased him.
“Really?” He asked more confidently.
“Really,” Maria replied with finality.
After they kissed, he asked, “Seriously though, what do you want to do about this?”
“You’re going to trust me to handle this?” she asked him.
“You were there, I wasn’t. And yes I do trust you. Why do you think I married you?” He asked.
“Well,” She said, “Unless he makes a habit of wanting me to paint his nails or wants me to do something else for him, I’m inclined to forget about. Kids imitate adults. That’s how they learn. If he does want more, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. As for you, keep doing the father/son things you’ve been doing. How does that sound?”
“Good to me.” He said smiling. Then mischievously, he added, “You know I think we have all our old clubbing wear upstairs in the attic.”
“What are you suggesting?” She asked pretending to be shocked.
“Well, after we get back from dinner, the baby sitter should have Josh already in bed,” his voice trailed off suggestively wagging his eyebrows.
“But I don’t have any black lipstick for you,” she complained. “But I do have this.” Maria held up the tube of hot pink lip gloss to his dismay.
The doorbell rang. Josh ran in breathlessly. “Babysitter is here!”
He ran out as his parents laughed behind him.
“Well, shall we?” Her handsome husband asked holding out his arm for her.
“Let’s.” Maria smiled accepting his offer.
This is not a full story. It is thoughts for a new one presented in a somewhat different fashion. I had a story idea while up to my armpits in another. Instead of writing an outline to preserve the basics, because of all the summer blockbusters trailers I've seen lately I decided to try and do it in a movie trailer style.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy and all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Another round of thanks goes out to djkauf who is the fastest proofer I've ever encountered. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
This is not a full story. It is thoughts for a new one presented in a somewhat different fashion. I had a story idea while up to my armpits in another. Instead of writing an outline to preserve the basics, because of all the summer blockbusters trailers I've seen lately I decided to try and do it in a movie trailer style. Hopefully that will help me recall the imagery better and give me something to post besides the usual, Hey everyone I had this really neat idea!
Opening titles
Cue: ES Posthumous 'Nara'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AEU5pBxY6E
From Grover-who-might-one-day-get-this-written Productions
Fade into a beautiful clear blue sky with the sun shining over a sparkling clear steam. Slowly, our view pans across a park with women watching their daughters at play as butterflies flit from flower to flower.
“The Future is perfect.” The speaker is a woman whose voice holds a note of sadness.
We zoom in for a close up on one butterfly as it casts its proboscis like an angler fishing for nectar. In a flash a cruel beak crushes it as a Raven's black wings carry its mangled body into the sky.
“But the price is high.” Our narrator continues. “Gender has become a rank and Men are Kings.”
We see well-dressed men who are as handsome and powerful as Greek Gods. They are attended by women who are beautiful perhaps, but subservient. More scenes of women in all different kinds of professions from the traditional ones of mother to construction workers and police officers, but all serve Men.
A billboard celebrates equal opportunities for all.
“However, some are more equal than others.”
More pictures follow of Men in positions of authority, but not a single one of a woman.
“Not all agreed with this vision of the future.”
We see a dead man lying behind a truck with a bumper sticker that reads, “I'll give you my gun when you take it from my cold dead hands.”
A feminine hand in fingerless gloves reaches down and picks up the pistol from the body. Zooming out we see a big body builder like woman wearing military combat gear.
“That War was lost.” The voice grows sadder. “And now the last Rebel has been caught.
A man who has been worn down until nothing is left but the steel of his soul throws himself at the female troopers who are clean and strong. Machete and combat tomahawk cuts down two, but more follow and he is overwhelmed by their numbers.
Cut to a camber where men of authority are in discussion.
“Certainly, we now have full control, but it would be wise to have another distraction for the populace since the rebel bogey men are no more. Besides, Bread and Circuses are nearly a tradition.”
“True,” Another agrees. “But we don't want to this blow up in our faces either. We don't want to teach anyone how to fight us. We just finished a war after all.”
“That's why we have researchers, isn't?” The first speaker who resembles Micheal Clark Duncan waves to a thin humorless man.
“We have been experimenting on ways of preventing any kind of violence against our representatives, the Police.” The scientist who is a poster child for Josef Mengele, says, “This would allow us to test these methods as well as other protocols. It would be like evolution in action.”
“I' don't like the idea of women running around loose without a man to manage her. “ A man who let himself grow fat in spite of his perfect body disagrees.
“Then let's link our 'contestants' fate with border-line failures who are debatable real men.” The Micheal Clark Duncan look-alike states. “We take care of trouble makers in both genders, while using them as guinea-pigs and taping the whole thing as a reality show.”
“We can't lose!” The second man exclaims while they all look pleased.
“Of course not!” The first proclaims waving his cigar like a baton. “We're Men!”
We cut to our ragged rebel who is spread eagled on an examining table. He looks half starved and has many scars.
“My, aren't you the mangy mutt.” The first speaker jeers.
“I prefer to think of myself as a rat.” The restrained man rasps back. He may be captured, but his eyes say otherwise. “A stainless steel rat.”
Turning to a white coated scientist, the first speaker commands. “I want this one.”
“But the process will kill him.” The scientist objects. “This one is in far too poor condition to survive the transmutation.”
“I rather doubt that, Doctor.” The Man looks at the prisoner. “That's one tough SOB. He'll spit in the Devil's eye before giving us the pleasure of seeing him die. She'll be one hell of a bitch.”
The Scientist looks as if he'll object again when the Man holds up his hand. “Speaking of which there are some specific things I want. After all she needs to be ... photogenic. The Man's smile is not pleasant.
A montage of images follow of the rebel being injected and in terrible pain. His convulsions bow him nearly in two, but he survives.
Opening his eyes, it is over, but we hear only a feminine voice. “Aww crap.”
“All butterflies emerge from their chrysalis new and reborn,” Our narrator says.
Scenes of hand to hand combat follow. Women twisting and striking as they fight for their lives. Wild leaps and acrobatics are shown as blades flash and arrows fly. One dives from a high bridge as death follows behind her.
“All must find their wings.” The voice finds hope somewhere in that sadness.
We see a young man turning his head away from the rude jokes of his fellows. “Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed.”
The young man looks up startled as a very feminine shadow falls upon him. We see a woman's bare back as she leans forwards to kiss him. A sparkling onyx line appears on her shoulders and races across her back as their kiss builds in passion. Pulling apart there's an intricate tattoo of butterfly wings covering her back.
“Then they must fly!” Our narrator has found hope and sings.
We see the young man running for his life; a glimpse of a red headed woman locked blade to blade in a sword fight; soldiers running while armored cars support them. More scenes of our young man crying as he holds someone unseen by us, and that tattoo slowly filling with wondrous colors.
Faster flashes of him running forward his face set in stubborn determination among more pictures of that tattoo becoming full of more pigments, but it now is clear it’s filling as if with pooling blood.
The screen turns red leaving only the tattoo. Doing one of those neat 3 D pans we zoom out seeing the silhouette of a bosomy woman with a long braid running down her back, holding a sword.
Underneath reads, “Coming soon or maybe someday when I can finish up all my other projects!”
The screen gives a twitch as if changing stations revealing the crumpled butterfly we saw in the beginning that was crushed by the Raven. It trembles and then unfolds like an origami back to its original form, an untouched butterfly. Zooming in, we see its eyes are camera lenses that are focused on us! Clicking and whizzing, with mechanical sounds, the butterfly launches itself into the sky.
Peter is down on his luck but that is about to change due to a Fairy Godmother and a plastic pail of candy!
Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional.
Warning!!! Due to this more or less being finished at the last moment this hasn't received the usual vaccinations versus my poor use of grammar. I'm sure that I'll find out about each shortcoming very soon!
This was going to be my original entry for the contest, but Erin threw us a curve ball about no recurring characters or established universes. Since my very first stand alone story was written for BC two years ago also for Halloween, I just had to continue my little series about feisty Fairy Godmothers, and wishes that end in Happily Ever After. :) Enjoy!
By
Grover
8/29/08
Rocking back and forth, Peter tried to relieve the tremendous discomfort that was threatening to finish driving him insane. His head was full of cotton, but his skin felt as if he was wrapped in electrified barbed wire.
Here he was in the psycho ward because stupid him had opened his big mouth. He really had needed someone to talk to, but without thinking, he’d said exactly the wrong thing. Peter had been hurting so badly inside, he’d just wanted the pain to go away, but that was not what he‘d should‘ve said. Maybe he’d been suicidal, but sitting here in a ‘I love me’ jacket and locked in a padded room going crazy wasn’t helping him one bit.
If that wasn’t enough, they had doped him to the gills ignoring his pleas that he always had strange reactions to medications. What was supposed to make him sleepy, would have him bouncing off the walls or some other weird reaction. Sure enough, just as he feared, what was supposed to calm him down and make him sleepy, had the opposite effect. So he sat, too wired to sleep and so agitated he just wanted to scream. Not that it would do him much good in this place.
That was when he noticed the small glowing ball of light that had wandered into his padded cage. It came up to him hovering in front of his nose before popping like a soap bubble revealing a Barbie doll sized Fairy.
Rationally, he evaluated his situation. Flying in front of his face with her gossamer wings buzzing was a small female dressed in an emerald silk grown. Let’s not forget the miniature wand leaving a trail of sparks behind it that she carried.
“All right that’s all folks!” Peter thought. “I have officially lost my mind and gone nuttsy-koo-koo. Game over folks. Elvis has left the building!”
Smiling, the Fairy said to him, “No my dear you’re not insane. Just hurting from all your years of denying your true self. But first things first.”
Waving her wand like right out of Harry Potter, she popped him right on the nose!
Startled, he yanked his head back, bumping it on the padded wall. He was going to start screaming, but found all of his maddening discomfort was gone! Peter let out a deep sigh, free of the maddening sensations and feeling better than he had in a very long time.
Well at least his Fairy Godmother was useful to have around even if he was crazy as a loon.
Rolling her eyes at his stubbornness she scolded him. “No. I’m not your Fairy Godmother and yes, I‘m reading your mind. That title goes to someone else and quite frankly they’re not doing a very good job. Otherwise you would’ve already worked out your issues and wouldn’t be in this dismal place.” She said looking around disapprovingly at his surroundings.
Giving up sanity as a lost cause, Peter answered his buzzing delusion aloud. “Whether you’re a figment of my imagination or not, thank you for whatever you did. It was about to finish the job of making me lose my sanity.”
The Fairy Godmother bobbed politely in mid-air, “You’re welcome.”
Peter continued, “However, if you’re not my Fairy Godmother, why are you here?”
The small flying fairy smiled, “Oh I knew you were one of the smart ones. And not a word about my saying it’s your denial that has landed in here either.” She shook a finger at him.
Peter blushed red, having a real good idea of what she was talking about. It was his darkest secret that fear and embarrassment had prompted him to bury within himself as deep as he could. But no matter how he hard he tried it always came back, and as much as he would like to claim his little problem had no bearing on his current crisis, he couldn’t.
Even now with this figment of his madness buzzing in the air before him, he couldn’t say it. It would just have to be a fairy to come here to visit him. During his childhood while the other boys were playing ball, he was dreaming of pegasis, fairies, and other fantasy creatures. He soon realized that although the girls wouldn’t let him play with them because he was a boy, he was more like them in his heart than the hyperactive, aggressive boys that loved to torment him so.
Fear of what his hard working lower income parents would do if they found out scared him half to death. How could he expect them to understand when he didn’t get it either? Feeling like he had no choice Peter tried to make his feelings and yearnings go away. The harder he tried, the more he found that it was wasn’t just thinking and feeling like a girl. He wanted to become one with all his heart and soul, and that could never be. Peter took after his Dad who was huge, towering over most other men at over 6 and half feet.
As he grew ever taller Peter dreaded every inch and although he'd never reach his dad’s height he was still counted as a tall man. A man and not ever never the woman that lay within his heart and soul. Determined to finally rid himself of his folly he resolved to be what everyone could plainly see what he was, a man.
Never mind the unexpected desire to touch that soft dress, or the sad envy he felt seeing a mother holding her child. Guiltily, he decided if he couldn’t be a mother then being a father would have to be good enough.
However that didn’t work out too good for him either with his rare relationships with women spectacularly crashing and burning. The one long term one he did have ended with her wanting things other than a family and children. One of the biggest reasons he was in here to begin with was his trying to recover from her leaving him.
The flint-eyed Fairy Godmother popped him on the nose again to regain his attention. “Tonight is Halloween. Forgot that did you? It’s going to be a very busy night for me, and I need some help. This the deal. Two deserving children here in the hospital have wishes coming to them. Since wishes comes in threes, if you deliver one wish to each child the last one is yours, young man.”
“This wish can only effect you. You can’t wish for all those who share your condition to be set right or for anything involving more than a single person. It’s only for one,” she said in a no non-sense tone. “I would hope that your experiences in this dismal establishment will motivate you to use it wisely.”
Peter didn’t have to think about long. “Well since I don’t have any future pressing engagements, I ‘m willing to consider your proposal, but right now, I’m all tied up. What’s more I'm pretty sure my current hosts would object to me checking out early.”
The doll sized Fairy Godmother shook her head at him as she flicked and swished her sparkling wand. With a sound like the wind sighing, the straitjacket fell in a heap at Peter’s feet.
“As for your hosts’ objections, a little Fairy glamour will take care of that quiet nicely. To everyone tonight, you’ll appear as if you belong here, but remember, like all such it will only last till midnight. Does that answer all of your questions?” She asked.
Peter carefully stood, expecting to have trouble after sitting for so long, but whatever was in that Fairy Dust was some really good stuff. He felt more clear headed, relaxed and generally better than he’d felt in ages.
He turned to look at the buzzing figment of his imagination just as she blasted a torrent of sparkles at his feet! “Whoa!” Peter exclaimed, dancing out of the way quickly.
Striking his discarded restraint, the burning embers caused the canvas straitjacket to shine so bright it left spots in his vision. Blinking them away, Peter saw that his jacket was gone and all that was left was a cheap looking black plastic pot vaguely resembling a cauldron and a black disk that suddenly popped up into a peaked witch’s hat.
“Tut, tut,” she admonished him as he looked sheepish at overreacting so.
“The hat has the fairy glamour cast upon it and will let you leave this place. Then all you have to do is take this cauldron down to the children's ward downstairs and pass out the candies inside. The rightful bearer of the wish will find it instead of a treat. There is no need to tell the child of the wish. They will know it is special as soon as they touch it. Don’t be concerned about receiving your wish. When your task is done the magic of the cauldron will let you know and you’ll find one last piece within with your payment.
“Since this is Halloween, watch out for Mischievous Spirits out and about on this night. The magic of the cauldron will protect you from malicious intent by any of them. However that won’t stop them from trying to cause trouble.”
Peter picked up the hat and the cheesy looking plastic bucket. Feeling foolish he settled the tall hat upon his head. Trying the door he found it unlocked and opened. Awkwardly he had to duck while leaving to keep the tall hat on his head.
Calling after him the Fairy Godmother reminded him. “Remember you’re the same as you’ve always been. The glamour will make everyone think and see that you belong where you are. Also it only lasts till midnight, but you should be finished long before then. Now be off with you!”
Peter muttered to himself. “Yeah, I know. Have fun storming the castle.” Cautiously he walked down the corridor heading for what he hoped was the exit. Coming to a junction, he was unsure which way to go. Why was it these places seemed like mazes?”
Uncertain, he was nearly pulled from his feet as the cauldron dragged him to the right! Startled he addressed it. “So the way out is this way?”
Again it pulled him to the right.
“All right! I get it. Does this get any better? First I’m talking to Fairy Godmothers and now I’m being led by the nose by a plastic tub. Do I dare ask what’s next?” Peter protested.
He admitted he was frightened. Scared this was all a dream and terrified it wasn’t. To finally after all these years of hurt and pain to be able to stop fighting himself. Just to achieve some measure of inner peace and tranquility would be a priceless gift. Madness or not this was one rabbit hole he’d no choice but to blindly enter.
A chill of fear flashed though him as he passed the nursing station, but no one took any notice of him as he walked by in his surgical scrubs style PJ’s bare footed. Peter almost swore as his magic cauldron impatiently tugged him towards the doors. Without a second glance Peter was buzzed though, and he was free!
Walking thought the lobby in bewildered shock, he wondered which way to go now? “Well Pot, where to now?” he asked.
“You could just leave you know.” An edgy voice spoke behind him causing Peter to jump.
A denial of wrong doing was on his lips but died as he turned.
At first sight she looked liked a human perched among the planters and greenery along the wall. Even as he stared at her in disbelief, he couldn’t deny the truth of his eyes. Maybe it was the fairy glamour upon the tall hat he wore that let him see the too sharp angles that composed this creature of dreadful symmetry. From her pointed ears to the sharp claws tipping her long fingers she, it, wasn‘t human.
Languorous, she unfolded herself stepping toward him, uncaring of his flinching and backing away from her. “You’ve three precious wishes there. Why share any of them? That buzzing annoyance said it herself that she wasn’t your Fairy Godmother or was concerned about anything other than the favor you could do for her. All she offered was just one stingy wish. You don’t owe her anything, so why not take them all?”
Scared speechless, Peter had no idea what to say. He did know that the fairytales of his youth were full of examples of those who’d tried to outsmart the ‘Little People’ and come out the worse for it. Maybe some of those story’s heroes had succeeded, but he was under no illusions that he was any type of hero at all. Hell, he wasn’t even a he even if he looked it.
Trying to still his fear he replied, “I gave my word. Because she trusted me enough to ask me to do this task for her, I’m free. Now excuse me, but I have some candy to pass out tonight.”
Holding his breath and praying his trembling legs didn’t betray him, Peter walked around her. He was all too aware of the hostile stare from her inhuman eyes and the angry tilt of her sharply pointed chin.
Not daring to look behind him, he quickened his pace to put as much distance between them as he could. The magic cauldron guided him right to Pediatrics. Peering into the first room and seeing all those ill children, he hesitated. Maybe it was stage fright but he found himself rationalizing reasons not to go in. Was it even safe for them to have candy when they were suffering from so many different kinds of illnesses?
The plastic pot twisted in his hand, banging hard against his knee!
“Ow!” Peter exclaimed. “Hey stop that!”
Again it smacked into him. He got the definite feeling that the thing was annoyed at him and put out over his cold feet. Considering he hadn’t seen anything bad come from that Fairy Godmother, he guessed the candy would be okay for even these sick kids. It was magic after all.
Taking a deep breath and still feeling odd running about dressed in only PJ’s and a witch’s hat he bent over to let all 6 feet plus of him and hat though the door. Not sure how to do this, Peter walked over to the first bed and said, “Trick or Treat.”
The little girl looked up at him and smiled as she saw his witch’s hat. “Isn’t that what I’m suppose to say?”
Peter found himself returning her smile and gently knocked on the wall by the bed. “Did you knock on my door this Halloween night? I think Not! So which is it going to be tonight, a trick or a treat?” he asked presenting the cauldron for her to draw from.
Reaching in the offered cauldron, she pulled out a sweet. She giggled, “A treat!”
The other children had noticed what was going on and the eager brightness in their eyes gave him a feeling of happiness that’d long been empty in his life. Moving to the next bed and then to another, he passed out the magic candy. One young boy his head bald from chemo and sickness touched him so deeply he wished he could help somehow.
Peter knew however he’d only the one wish. A part of himself was angry that every child couldn’t be helped. Sighing, he knew that wasn’t the way the world worked. He should be thankful that even a few children were being granted wishes.
He found his first wish recipient soon thereafter. The girl’s face glowed in happiness as she pulled the disguised wish from the pail. “This is the very best treat of all,” she said knowing somehow it wasn’t an ordinary piece of candy at all.”
She plopped the sweet in her mouth and closed her eyes. Peter felt something even if he didn’t know quiet what. The child had made her wish and just as strangely he knew all would be well with her now.
Opening her eyes she beamed brilliantly up at him. “Thank you Nurse.”
Even as he said “You’re Welcome,” a thought came to him that perhaps he could keep his dearest desire to be true to his heart and help these kids too. If he wished to be the very best kind of nurse or doctor as well as the woman he was always meant to be, he could satisfy both desires.
Soon all the candy had been treated out, and last but not least the 2nd wish had been delivered. Feeling happy and content Peter began walking out the ward.
“I’m certain she didn’t mean to forget you. Surely there is one more treat within the witch’s pot.” A familiar voice said.
A softer one asked, “Please, do you have a treat for me?”
Not wanting to look, Peter turned seeing that inhuman creature who’d tempted him before sitting next to a child where before he’d been sure there’d been none. He wanted to leave thinking it was trick, but his cauldron gave him a mournful bump. With a sinking heart, he feared the trick had already been done.
The malice in her unblinking eyes told Peter the truth. His cauldron had protected him as promised, but it couldn’t guard the entire ward. The cunning spirit had simply hidden the last child from him until the second wisher had been found and the candy all gone. Now, only one last treat lay within the cauldron. The one promised to him.
Peter wanted to turn away. This wish was his. For so many years he’d hurt and endured a pain few could understand. It was a promised end to that torment. It was his compassion that was his undoing as he saw the raw emotion in the child’s eyes. After seeing the happiness in so many of the other kid’s eyes tonight, he just couldn’t leave this one with such pain in theirs.
The nasty sharp toothed grin upon the fell creature’s face as she rose told of her victory, as he approached. Brazenly taking joy of the pain she caused, she danced away.
Peter sighed wearily. He’d once heard a friend complain that if he’d inherited forty acres of pumpkins, they’d cancel Halloween. No matter how good his luck, it always seemed the bad that followed it was twice, thrice, as worse.
At first he thought the child was a girl until he glanced at the chart. Not with a name like William. The boy looked small for his age of 13 lost among the blankets and sheets, but the restraints on his arms confirmed the charts saying the child was on suicide watch.
Sitting next to the so pale child, Peter didn’t have a clue what to say to this troubled child. For a long moment they were both silent. Softly he asked the boy. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”
William not meeting his eyes said so softy he’d could hardly be heard. “I tried to make myself right. My parents died in accident so long ago I can barely remember them, and have at every foster home I’ve been with tried to make them understand I’m not what they think I am.”
Shaking his head sadly the boy was almost sobbing. “Then my voice started changing and growing hair where it shouldn’t, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I took a really sharp knife but they stopped me.” William couldn’t talk anymore as his tears came.
Peter felt such a combination of shock and anger as never before in his life. He’d cut an irate look the way that foul spirit had departed. To use a child. To use this child against him in this way was a despicable act.
Peter bit down on his temper. William needed many things but never ever anger. His heart went out to this child. Softy he said, “I understand.”
William unable to wipe his tears buried his face in his pillow. “No. No one understands!”
Peter gently guided William’s face to look at him with one huge work roughened hand and lifted his glamour hexed hat from his head with the other.
The boy’s eyes grew wide as the glamour faded. Peter set the hat back firmly on his head hoping the illusion wasn‘t broken and would return. His fears eased as William’s soft voice asked, “Was that real? You’re really a man?”
Now it was Peter’s turn to fight tears as he nodded. “William. I am telling you the truth. I understand what you’re going though.”
Without thinking he gently hugged the child as they both broke down in tears over hurts and pains that could only be shared by those who’d walked those same paths. Peter’s heart ached ferociously over this little one’s pain. To lose his parents, and trying to deal with growing up wrong at the same time was too much to ask of anyone.
But how could he help, Peter asked himself helplessly. He’d only the one wish and the Fairy Godmother had made it plain that he could use it only to affect one person. Perhaps, he could use it as he was thinking, to change himself into a woman doctor and try to adopt William. However that could take years given the foster care system and William’s history.
The boy was already going into puberty and the window for the most successful transition was already closing. Hormone blockers needed to be started now and that just couldn’t happen given the circumstances. William was a small child now, but Peter knew from personal experience how fast that could change. More to the point no matter what was done, William would never bear children or have any of the other blessings of being born a woman.
There was only one way William could do that and Peter’s soul cringed at the thought. Give the boy his wish. But being honest with himself, he’d never felt so alienated and desperate that he’d tried to correct his deformity himself. In a way he’d done worse. Peter had tried to deny what was truly was in his heart. Everyone had expectations from him based on how they saw him. Like his father he’d went into construction because that’s what they wanted of him.
Never did he reach for his dreams. Because he never could achieve his most precious one of really being herself, he’d never tried for any of the others either. Peter had survived but at a cost that’d caused him to end up locked up in the psycho-ward. He didn’t want that for this child in his arms who’d already been though too much.
Taking a deep breath, he let William go and made himself smile. It was the right thing to do. Maybe it’d always been too late for him, but this child still had his, her, entire life still to be lived. Peter remembered that the Fairy Godmother had said the wish could only be grasped by the one it was meant for.
Reaching within the cauldron, he found it. “William,” he said. “I can’t wave a wand and make everything all better, but I do have this for you.”
Peter had seen how unlike all those stories he’d heard of Genie wishes going bad and causing horrible troubles that each of the wishes of the two kids had turned out well. It’d be best to trust the magic. “I’m giving my treat to you.” He said hoping all turn out well placing the wish within the kid’s hand.
William had just enough play in the straps holding him down to put the candy in his mouth, but he stopped with a puzzled frown upon his pale face. Looking at Peter’s cauldron and then to the peaked witch’s hat, he asked, “This was for you wasn’t it?” as his eyes went back to the sweet that promised dreams long denied would come true.
Feeling a curious mixture of sadness and pride Peter replied, “You need it worse than I. Besides this is what adults are supposed to do kiddo. When a child needs help she should get it with no reservations. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I am an adult after all. Now enjoy your Halloween treat and have nothing but the happiest of dreams. Bye William.” Peter said leaving.
He couldn’t bear to look back, because there was just too many different emotions pouring though him. Some were sad, but most weren’t. All of them were intense beyond belief. Peter found himself at the entrance walking by the guard who still saw nothing but the Fairy glamour.
Peter stepped outside and looked up at the night sky. He could see only a few stars with the lights of the city so bright, but he was still free at least until midnight. It would probably be better for him to just go back to that padded cell, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Seeing a bench in the small garden in front of the hospital he walked to it.
Undoubtedly all hell would cut loose when they realized he was gone, but until then he just wanted to sit for while under the sky. It was unseasonably warm and quite comfortable out here. Placing the cauldron that now was nothing more than a plastic tub beside him, he found himself thinking about his future.
Peter really wasn’t all that old, so he could start over. He’d realized that no matter what he’d believed, he had to be true to himself. Grinning, well he certainly didn’t have to worry about getting someone to pay attention to him now. Listening to him perhaps would be another matter, but that would be up to him to make them.
Checking his feelings like one would a missing tooth, he found no bitterness about giving William his gift. At least this way he knew his sleep would be undisturbed. Stretching his long legs in front of him, he wondered what the orderlies would think when they found him here with that hat still upon his head and the cauldron beside him. Hopefully nothing bad.
Looking back up at the misty stars above, that Disney song echoed though his memories, “When you wish upon a star.” He didn’t fight the sleepiness overcoming him. A last thought floated in his consciousness as the music played, “Please not a boy, but a real live girl would be just fine.”
With a sad smile Peter faded away asleep.
“Mummy, Mummy!” an excited shout woke Virginia from her sleep. Opening her eyes she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Next to her bed a dark haired girl dressed in a pink Alice in Wonderland nightgown stood bouncing up and down jubilantly.
“It worked! It worked!” the little girl all but shrieked.
Wendy, her scrambled brains supplied. Her daughter. Her daughter? Virginia set up suddenly alarmed and confused. Wendy was still jumping up and down giggling in happiness. Trying to sort out her thoughts, she searched her memories.
Her name was Virginia, and she was a doctor specializing in pediatrics. She’d just gotten to bed after working a long shift Halloween night, taking time to pass out some candy in the children’s ward.
Blinking her eyes, she also remembered being Peter, and a different experience with passing out the treats for the kids. Particularly for one named William. Slowly she asked her daughter, “William?”
Still happily dancing the little girl laughed, “That’s me, but now I’m Weeenndy!” as she spun around in a circle!
Virginia found herself grinning as broadly as her daughter. Looking down at herself, she was still tall but not as much as Peter had been. Taking her new self in, she decided she was attractive if not a beauty queen. She’d dark hair, and Wendy and she definitely looked like mother and daughter so closely did they resemble each other.
Their eyes meeting Wendy explained, “I wished with all of my heart that you could be my mother and I your daughter. It came true. It really came true!”
Virginia held out her arms and Wendy flew within them. Joyfully they hugged each other lost in memories old and new. Brushing her daughter’s hair from her dark eyes, she said, “This isn’t going to be easy you know. Being a doctor, won’t let me spend as much time with you as either one of us would like. Plus,” she said giving Wendy a good look, “You look as if you’ve lost a couple of years, You’re certainly not 13 anymore.”
Wendy answered, “I’m 10 now, and I think you’re younger too. It doesn’t matter how hard it is. I have a Mummy again, and I know you’re going to be the best one ever.”
Sighing happily Virginia couldn’t disagree. However it was getting late and a memory came to her of a promise to take Wendy out on a special day because she’d had to work on Halloween. “I seem to remember a promise I made to a certain little girl about having a big day planned for tomorrow, so it’s off to bed for both of us.”
Wendy’s enthusiasm had begun to fade but perked up again as she too remembered. She smiled and started to leave but hesitated asking. “Mummy, can I sleep with you tonight?”
Virginia unable to stop the warm glow with her heart every time she heard that term of endearment smiled back. “I think that’ll be alright, but just for tonight. You’re a big girl now.” as she lifted the covers for her daughter to slip in.
Snuggling next to her mother, Wendy muttered back sleepily, “But not that big” making clear this wasn’t going to be the last night she would be sleeping with her mother.
Together, mother and daughter happily found beautiful dreams and began their new life.
Unable to restrain her own smile and maybe even a tear, the Fairy Godmother swished and flicked her wand. “Done, Done and Done!”
As always it seemed Halloween was one of her busiest days. All the children at the hospital had been deserving, but Wendy was a special case. Even a wish could only do so much and the troubled child needed to be, not only her true self, but needed an exceptional mother as well to help her pass the horrors of the past.
Just as vexing, there were always more, desperately needing the help only a wish bring and too few of those precious miracles to go around. Taking a huge risk she brought in Virginia to help. Having a huge and compassionate heart, she was perfect for Wendy, but still the Fairy had only one wish. By giving the wish first to Virginia it somewhat attuned itself to her. It’d been an gamble that the she would pass the wish on to Wendy, but with a little help it’d worked out perfectly. Speaking of which.
“YOU tricked me!” the shrill voice of the Spriggan accused her. You knew that would happen.” The malicious spirit stalked towards her.
Ignoring the angry tone the Fairy Godmother replied serenely, “No, but I had hoped. For your information, I tricked no one. It was you following me about looking for some chance to cause mischief that tricked yourself. If you’d looked within Virginia’s heart rather than at that shell she wore, you would’ve seen the probable outcome.”
“I thank you for your help even if it was entirely unintended. Now be gone! And trouble these two no more.” The fairy Godmother said raising her wand meaningfully.
The Spriggan snarled, but backed away. “You’ve gone too far this time, but there is always next year. I will remember, I promise you that.” And with that she was gone.
The Fairy Godmother gave the departing creature a hard look, but had to smile when she looked back at the sleeping mother and child. As anyone who truly gives from the heart knows, the more a gift is valued by the giver the more precious it becomes. The sacrifice that Virginia made and the unselfish wish that Wendy made for Virginia to be her mother had added enough oomph to the single wish to do the job for them both.
The two them still had enormous challenges to overcome, but now they would face them together with their heart and souls being unfettered by being trapped in the wrong flesh. All in all a nice piece of work and if that creature wanted cause trouble it would find her ready. But there one final thing to do. Bringing up her wand one last time she chanted, “May they both live happily ever after!”
Happy Halloween!
Grover's Writing
Grover is a wonderfully, talented writer, whose heart is big as all outdoors. Grover doesn't forget real friends and family of choice. Grover has a real feel for the emotional states of characters in stories. A lifelong reader who always dreamed of writing. Grover is married to a wonderful, lovely, understanding woman who is very supportive. Grover's novel, "Heroes of Justice", which has been revised from the version posted at BCTS, is soon to be published by Doppler Press.
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Soon to be Published Novel
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Slice of Life Tales