by Drew Hayes
“It wasn’t much of a shit-talking,” Donald protested.
“Sentiment more than words; I can still read between the lines. The point is, you are my friend.” Tori realized the words were true only as they were tumbling unbidden from her mouth. “Assuming you’re okay with that, after my answer.”
The response wasn’t instantaneous. As Tori pulled her hand back, Donald appeared to give the matter a few seconds of serious thought before finally nodding his head. “I’d love to still be friends. But, fair warning, I also don’t think I can turn off my feelings just like that. I won’t bring it up again and will try my best not to let anything show; it just might take time. I don’t want you to think I’m hanging around in the wings, using our friendship as a way to wait and see if you change your mind.”
“If I’d had a few more friends like you throughout my life, I might not be such a fucked-up mess.” Tori relaxed a little, now that the conversation was on a more predictable track. “It’s okay for you to feel however you want, so long as you respect my own thoughts on the subject.”
Despite the positive swing, Donald’s face creased, the first time in the whole talk he’d looked genuinely bothered. “Good. Then as your friend, I don’t like when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Do what? The exact thing you just got on me about: shit-talking my friend. You’re not a ‘fucked-up mess,’ Tori. You’re holding down a job, a social life, an apartment of your own. I know people who haven’t been through a tenth of what you have, and they still can’t get it together enough to do their own laundry. Give yourself an ounce of credit from time to time.”
Her impulse was to deny and defer, pretend all of that was mere happenstance. And to an extent, it was, in the sense that only chance had gotten her on the guild’s radar, leading to her apprenticeship with Ivan. Yet that was merely the opportunity; everything from there on had been done by Tori’s own hand. She’d endured the guild’s trials, she’d survived the Ridge City Riots, she’d built the identity of Hephaestus. Maybe he was right. Perhaps she was a little too hard on herself.
“Well then, how about we both promise to be better about going easy on ourselves, and hold one another accountable to it?” Tori lifted her coffee once more, noting that Donald did the same without even looking. “To friends?”
His reply was as instant as it was earnest. “I’ll always drink to that.”
“And what makes this place so safe, exactly?” Janet was rubbing the spot above her nose between her eyes, giving Ivan deep flashbacks to the later years of their marriage. That gesture had been in frequent use as the arguments grew more constant. He briefly wondered if she used it around anyone else—it would seem not, if today was any indication. Juan was at work and the kids were in school; this was a meeting solely for those in the know about the greater events of their world. Specifically, the weekend’s coming danger.
“Guild owned, heavily reinforced, and with an emergency escape option in the event things go catastrophically wrong.” It was all the more galling that they had to hash this out when he knew she was going to go along with it in the end. The other options were to take their chances out in the open, or turn to the AHC for help. Intelligence and pride cut off both those paths for Janet.
“Yes, but what good will that do if Earth loses?” Janet persisted. “Death by starvation as we remained trapped in your hidey hole isn’t much better than getting wiped out in the initial shot.”
It was hard to argue that she wasn’t presenting a relevant concern, albeit one Ivan had trouble imagining. Thankfully, the possibility was one he’d also taken into account. “If Earth’s defenses fall, then you’ll use the escape option. We have a versal-displacement engine to punch a hole between this part of the multiverse and somewhere safe.”
Janet’s concern was momentarily tempered by her curiosity—the same trait that had gotten them mixed up together in the first place. “I thought it was near impossible to break through the multiverse barriers anymore.”
“Then you also know Wade considers the words ‘near impossible’ to be the start of a challenge,” Ivan explained. “It takes a tremendous amount of power, and the portals only last for a short while, so it’s still a huge ordeal. But the technology functions well enough that we built an emergency escape system and established an outpost where we can flee to.”
He didn’t add that this system wasn’t designed with aliens in mind. For all they knew, the Wrexwren were just as far ahead on that front as humanity. No, this safety mechanism was built with a single force in consideration. For all the power Lodestar had, she was completely unable to leave her native universe. All the nooks, subspaces, dimensions, and planes of their own world were fair game, but no Lodestar they’d heard of had ever been able to step beyond the initial universe they inhabited. Which made fleeing to another part of the multiverse the only true way to slip from that powerful, glowing grasp.
“Meaning if things go badly, our best option is to leave the entire world behind?” The words could have sounded patronizing or sarcastic; instead, there was a cold calculation to them. She grasped the stakes at play, and that failure from Earth’s defenders meant the entire world they knew could come tumbling down. Janet wanted to be sure she understood the consequences to every action as she made them. It was an attitude Ivan had worked hard to learn from during their time together.
“Yes. If I fall, it means these creatures are incredibly dangerous, and the world is in for a harsh battle. Should Lodestar fall... just get out. If they hold power greater than hers, this planet cannot stand against it.”
Janet rolled her eyes with outstanding form; however, not even she bothered to argue on this point. “I do feel better knowing there’s a contingency, although it would have been nice to look over the other world’s facilities in advance. Our best option is not to need it, to stay put in our own universe. Tell me you’re going to win this, Ivan.”
“My part is relatively simple. The harder tasks fall upon Wade, Xelas, and Lodestar.”
“That’s not what I said.” Janet rose from her kitchen table, striding over to the corner of the room and plucking up a set of framed photos. She walked back, thumb resting on the image in the rightmost corner. “Do you remember that day?”
He took the photos from her hands. Janet appeared to be standing on a dusty road, in front of a natural rock formation, posing with the infant version of Rick. All of that was true and accurate; what was unseen, just outside of frame, were the front gates of Rookstone, where Ivan had been imprisoned at the time. The picture was from the day he’d first met his son, taken less than an hour prior to the event.
“I could never forget.” He remembered every piece of it. The uncertainty in Janet’s eyes, the sharp sting of the cleaning spray lingering in the prison air, the tiny fingers that grabbed at his hands before balling up into a fist, clenching on the orange fabric of Ivan’s uniform until Rick was taken away. Even then, the small hand hung on, tugging the collar in a way that had never truly gone from Ivan’s mind.
“Do you remember what you told me before I left?”
“I won’t let anything happen to him.”
The sharp “tsk” hissed out of Janet’s closed teeth instantly. “Those weren’t your words.”
Ivan’s eyes traveled from the starting photo to the rest of the frame. He was missing in most of these, but there was no shortage of pictures documenting his children’s lives. Babies, to toddlers, now one nearing her teens and the other verging toward adulthood.
“I will kill every meta, every monster, every world, if it means keeping our child, our children, safe. No price is too high, no blood is too sacred. I will protect them.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Janet gently plucked the photograph from his hands, looking up at him with a small touch of her former admiration. “Now, you’re ready to fight.”
Chapter 100
Contact came on Friday. Specifically, Friday morning, just between when Professo
r Quantum wrapped his current project of upgrading his flight belt and when he returned to the lab with an ultra-energy bar. He’d already half unwrapped the glowing treat when he stepped into his facilities to find every piece of communications equipment lighting up. Those tricky little invaders were trying to send it worldwide, stirring up panic among the masses before they’d even set a single ship in Earth’s space.
Such a mass broadcast was impossible without tripping the AHC’s blocking equipment, and while there were, admittedly, a few other metas capable of bypassing the media defense, the days of screens suddenly filling with criminals were largely long-past. There were obvious exceptions, like that traitor Apollo teaching Balaam the ways around it for their little rebellion, but those were insider tricks. An alien force wouldn’t have knowledge of such tactics, so for the moment, this message was only for the AHC, and anyone else who’d rigged up a functioning interstellar communications array.
Looking over the content of the message as his automated translator was spitting it out, there was nothing surprising thus far. This was a twenty-four hour notice: the battle would begin in a day’s time. Earth was allowed to send up a champion if they so chose, losing would forfeit their planet to be plundered—all the standard bits they were already expecting. The only real unknown to be revealed was the timetable. A single day, enough to technically give the planet a chance to ready their defenses, yet still with most of the benefits of a surprise attack.
There was sharp crack and a minor flash of light as Professor Quantum took a large bite from his bar, the crumbs dissolving as soon as they hit the ground. Now that they knew the invasion was planning to move soon—within a day, if they were telling the truth—it was time to bring the public in on what was happening. In the old days, they’d have just let the sky fill up with aliens and tell people to have faith. Now, everyone expected these sorts of things to be added right to their calendar. Lodestar coddled this world too much. Professor Quantum was of the mindset that tribulation built character. Not a fight worth having on this front, though, especially not when the issue would have the public on her side.
Instead, he activated the preprogrammed sequence, sending out the recorded video across the world, the computer redubbing over their voices in various languages to ensure it was understood by all who saw. While he might not have loved the necessity of communication, Professor Quantum would never permit his work to fall below acceptable quality.
On his screen, and across millions stretching out through every corner of the globe, a new image suddenly appeared. On it was himself, Quorum, and at the front, speaking, was Lodestar. Time to bring the world up to speed on what the weekend held in store.
Across the world, people drew near to their screens and speakers, all too aware of what an announcement like this foretold. Families huddled closer, souls were searched, and each person faced the momentary possibility that everything they’d ever known or loved could be destroyed in a single day’s time. Then, for the most part, they continued on with their respective days. An invasion on the horizon was all well and good, but it didn’t change the work ahead of them, and once the AHC kicked the attackers back to the far reaches of space, things would be back to normal by Monday.
Some took the news more seriously than others. In one particularly well-armed Ridge City household, for example, the entire family was engaged in cleaning and checking their entire stock of weapons. Ambrose watched the screen as he reassembled a rifle, not needing his eyes for a task so well burned into his muscles. Beverly had called it, and days before the AHC. Something big was coming all right, and she’d wanted to make sure her family was ready for it. Part of him wondered if he should be probing deeper into how exactly she’d had access to that sort of information, but they were already in the process of getting reestablished after the transformation incident. Better to let her reveal the truth in time. For now, he had plenty to keep busy with.
Beth and Rick saw the announcement on their phones, inside a car already headed out of town. Beth was mostly interested and excited, while Rick couldn’t help thinking about this trip they’d mysteriously decided to take beforehand. It all tied back to his dad’s secret somehow, though for the moment, he was content to let that sleeping dog lie. Learning just a taste of the truth had terrified him to the core of his soul. Right now, he was happy to have Ivan just be his dad. Yet even as he held that thought, Rick’s eyes wandered out the window to the blue sky overhead. When the dust settled, did he really expect a man who’d killed—or rather, slaughtered an entire army, to just sit back and watch?
Sitting at his stool, surrounded by terrified locals, Grantham watched the old tube set flickering as it blasted out the message in a language he’d only picked up the basics of. He’d been around long enough to get the essentials: there was a fight coming, and the AHC was trying to keep it off-world. Keeping his beer soundly on the table, Grantham flexed his left hand into a fist. Veins bulged an icy blue hue, a shade that spread across the arm, swelling it with muscle at even the merest thought of combat. Smiling, he used his right hand to take a sip of beer, not even caring that it had dropped by several degrees. He wasn’t ready to take on the AHC yet, but Jokull might have fun tearing through some easier targets.
Chloe watched the announcement along with everyone else at Ridge City Grinders. It was strange, seeing this message while practically sitting in the AHC’s shadow. People were obviously scared, yet not sure how afraid they should really be. Daunting as the concept was, it was hardly the first time Earth had been attacked at large, and so far, the capes had succeeded in repelling back every major threat. Then again, they only had to lose once for the planet to be wiped out, a fact that everyone was trying hard not to think about. Her customers absorbed the message like a small blow, then each began the process of walking it off. The rest of the world would deal in its own way; this was just part of what it took to build a life in Ridge City.
Sitting atop the Statue of Lizardy, which rested directly across from the Statue of Liberty, Captain Bullshit’s hand stayed, despite being moments away from summoning the sarsaparilla storm clouds. The clunky old mobile television was easily four times bigger than a modern phone, and with far worse picture, but it still held a signal well enough to get the message. While he was disappointed to scrap the performance, such a display was no longer needed today. The world had already been reminded to expect the unexpected; to strike again at their cocoons of repetition would be mental assault, rather than the art of cerebral elevation. This could wait for another day, when the masses’ minds were properly aligned for radical shocks.
On an island nation off the coast of Australia’s Shattered Shores, the message was blazing on a huge screen, higher in definition than most people even realized was possible. The figure seated upon a mechanical throne took in every detail, face inscrutable through her meta-suit’s seamless helmet. It flowed into the rest of the armor, which coated every inch of the wearer’s body. Her fingers tapped heavily against the armrest, calculating the odds of AHC failure. Chances were strong they would repel the threat, though whether or not they would succeed without the Earth taking damage was more in question. Whatever the outcome, Tyranny was confident in her nation’s defenses. Her land would either endure, or tear off the enemy’s flesh on their way out. Leaning over, she whispered to a figure at her side, the only person in the chamber with her. Confident or not, there were preparations to be made.
Nexus had no grand view to watch from for this part. He was only around happenstantially, in case this was one of the versions where Captain Bullshit went ahead with the storm. Standing on the street, he could see the image playing on several screens in various stores and windows, none of which he paid attention to. The message wasn’t inherently fascinating, especially after hearing countless prior versions of it. What came next, now that he would have several good seats for. This was little more than the curtain call. With no sarsaparilla storm on the horizon, Nexus soon vanished, popping out of the world like he
’d been digitally removed. Only for a bit, though.
Come tomorrow, this would be an event he dared not miss.
Tori and Ivan didn’t see the announcement. They weren’t intentionally avoiding it; however, there were no television screens in the testing chamber, and neither had elected to bring a phone along with them for this.
Zipping through the air, Tori adjusted her flight path, nimbly getting around one of the cardboard protrusions popping down from the ceiling. As she did, a fresh target popped into view, earning a short blast from the gauntlet on her left arm.
In all but title and a few small suit pieces, she was once more Hephaestus—or at least, she would be once this test was complete. It wasn’t really for Ivan; he’d simply wanted to see where she was at. The real assessor was Tori herself, keenly observing every detail of her suit’s performance post-repair. So far, it was holding up splendidly, the few limitations she hit being ones of design and fatigue. No amount of repairing would change the fact that she’d put the armor through more than its initial materials were meant to endure. Between learning in the field and access to superior components, Tori was slowly coming around to the fact that soon, she’d need to build an entirely new meta-suit. Projects like this were never done. Each design reached the full extent of its potential, and from that knowledge, a next step forward could be taken.
Reorienting with a quick spin, Tori fired at two more targets with the left gauntlet. Her right was cycling into its large beam weapon. For all the work she’d done on efficiency, there was still a sizable charging time before her big shots could be used. Not ideal in the field, so she needed to make a habit of keeping one blast ready to go whenever possible. The rapid turns earned her groans from the suit’s dark metal. Between fighting with metas and the strain of flying at high speeds, she was going to have to go far more durable for the next incarnation, assuming she could find something both strong and light enough—there was no way she was parting with flight.