Gruefield 18 (Tarnished Sterling Omnibus)

by Robert McCarroll

  "Everyone--" I started, but was cut off as Pam was thrown back into me, pounding me into a shelving unit. I coughed through a cloud of flour. "Everyone stop!" I called. "Neutrino's a good guy! He's a hero from Torquespiral's generation."

  "I see I am not entirely forgotten, Shadowdemon. However, your control over your team is sadly deficient."

  "What's he doing here?" Pam asked, standing.

  "I heard gunshots in the middle of my dinner. I investigated out of habit." Neutrino held out his hand, a nimbus of black energy wrapping around it. "Now tell me what you're doing here."

  "My laptop got stolen. It contains information which can compromise not only my identity, but that of other members of the community. We tracked it here. We wanted to get it back unnoticed." A stream of armed guards began to pour into the hallway, skidding to a stop at the sight of us.

  "The situation is under control," Neutrino said.

  "Who the hell are you?" the lead guard asked. A wave of energy rolled down him, transforming his mask into a pair of round glasses, and his black hero suit into a gray business suit. As it reached his feet, he finally settled on the floor. "Mister Townsend?"

  "I was a hero back in the day, though my exploits are mostly forgotten now," Neutrino said. "This matter was a misunderstanding. You will escort these youngsters outside. They will not give you any trouble."

  "Wait just a minute!" Pam said.

  "Stamp, don't argue with him. We're leaving."

  "We came here for your laptop."

  "I will recover it," Neutrino said, walking past the guards.

  "Remind me to never come near the Doolittle Club again," Nora groaned as she stood up. As Icerazor reached for his sword, one of the guards stepped on the blade.

  "Get off of that," Icerazor said.

  "You brought weapons in here," the guard said, his pistol aimed at Icerazor's forehead.

  "And I'm bringing them back out again."

  Another guard leaned in. "This is above our pay grade. Let them keep the sword if it gets them off the grounds." The first guard moved his foot and Icerazor grudgingly sheathed the sword.

  "Why mister Townsend, whatever do you mean?" Jennifer's voice said over the comm. There was a pause, presumably as Neutrino spoke. "That girl over there, Nikki."

  We followed the mass of guards out to the front door and were escorted down the drive. We could have probably taken the lot in a fight, but it would have looked bad. "Well that was a fiasco," I said as the wrought iron gate closed behind us. The heel of Pam's palm struck her forehead.

  "Now I remember that guy," she said. "Helped fight off the Gulzane migration even after he'd formally been retired. How could I forget a living legend?"

  "You mean those slimy little space worms that attacked during the days of disco?" Icerazor asked. "They weren't even sentient if I remember from history class."

  "If you thought you recognized him, why'd you punch him?" I asked.

  "Since I got dosed, I've had this compulsion to hit things," Pam said. "It seemed like an appropriate time."

  Neutrino approached the gate, one hand on Jennifer's shoulder. Jennifer clutched my laptop tightly, looking rather scared. The guards opened the gate and Neutrino pushed her out. "Your grandfather will be disappointed when he hears what I have to say," Neutrino said. "You knew there was a better-than-even chance that board members were in the building. You could have dealt with this though dialogue."

  "We needed practice working as a team."

  "Breaking into the Doolittle Club isn't an appropriate venue for that." He turned and stormed off.

  "On a scale of one to ten, how screwed are we?" Icerazor asked as the gates closed again.

  "Well, we beat up a guard and traded blows with a member of the board," I said. "Pretty screwed, maybe a seven."

  "That all?"

  "After being impaled, this isn't so bad."

  Part 23

  The banalities of starting a new school year came as almost a relief after the mess of late summer, even if Leyden Academy had an insane dress code. I had to wear the school uniform, and it had to be neat and spotless. The tie had to be a full Windsor, and my hair couldn't be longer than two inches, not that mine ever got that long. My shoes had to be polished, and I could only use an official Leyden Academy book bag. Luckily, the cost was covered by tuition, which was covered by the scholarship. There were only two buses that stopped at Leyden Academy. One in the morning and one at the end of classes. Most students drove or were dropped off. On those days when I had practice, I'd have to arrange for a ride home, or walk to the closest regular stop.

  The petty troubles of a high school, even a highly-regimented prep school like Leyden, seemed insignificant, soothing in their simplicity. There was, however, a tension in the air. Lord Captain Zsh-ya's deadline was approaching, and the governments were bickering over what to do. There was a lot of shouting and finger-pointing among the diplomats, and the unease filtered down even to the students at Leyden Academy. I hadn't heard from Dad in a while, but I wasn't going to bother him at such a juncture. There were much more important things on his mind, and I had something else on my mind, less cosmic in scale, but just as fixating: Stephanie Van der Veer.

  She was a black-haired girl with wireframe glasses who was in almost every class I was. Only during art was she someplace else. She was soft spoken, but not meek, with a slight accent that melted in your ear and made you want to hear anything she was talking about. The girls' uniform was as conservative as they made them in this country, but the jacket over a white blouse, long pleated skirt and tall socks perfectly complemented her. I wanted to get to know her, but I was the resident poor kid, and that put me outside all the cliques, virtually invisible. I couldn't even use the excuse of common schedules to walk with her in the halls. Lockers were assigned alphabetically, which put ours at opposite ends of the building.

  Amongst the uniformed teens of Leyden Academy, I was more of a ghost than on a rooftop at night. I looked too tough to be bullied, so they went one better: they ignored me outright. As the last class of the day wound down, I found it hard to pay attention to the instructor and not watch Stephanie wistfully. I almost didn't catch much of what was being said about the invasion of Poland-Lithuania by the Teutonic Knights. Since we were tested on everything, this wasn't the best of ideas. Luckily, the bell rang before my willpower ran out. I was further from the door than she was, and Stephanie beat me to the hall. Amidst the torrent of uniformed students pouring from the classrooms, I almost lost track of her. Despite the horrible knot in my stomach, I was determined to at least introduce myself.

  "What do you want Travis?" She asked as I caught up to her at her locker.

  "I... um... You know my name?"

  "Please. We're in all the same classes, I hear it every roll call," she said.

  "Well, yeah, I..." Words were already abandoning me.

  "Are you going to finish a sentence?"

  "I... I was wondering if you'd be willing to, you know, go out on a date."

  "When?"

  "Tonight?" I blurted out, my brain barely able to handle basic English.

  "I'm sorry, I'm busy tonight."

  My mind locked up and after a while Stephanie closed her locker and walked off. As the hallway started to empty, I banged my head against the nearest locker a couple of times. My phone beeped to remind me that I needed to be out front to catch the bus. I hurried off, my mind still screaming insults at me for blundering through the conversation like an idiot. I barely managed to get on board before the doors closed. The driver nodded at me as I swiped my pass. There were so few people who got on at the school that the he could probably identify us. Most got off before the bus got out of Leyden Heights. I was the only one who rode it all the way downtown and transferred.

  "You look bummed," Xiv
said as I came inside.

  "Hey kid, how's the head?"

  "It doesn't hurt anymore," Xiv smiled that creepy fanged smile of his.

  "I think I'm going on patrol." It seemed to be my default response when I needed time to think.

  "Can I come?"

  "Actually Xiv, what I'd like you to do is get Apexa and Stamp to take you out to the country someplace and see if you can fly. I've been wondering since I met you. You haven't spent all that much time outdoors and, even if you can't fly, the experience should do you some good."

  Xiv looked at his wings. They were too small for aerodynamics, but that didn't seem to stop some people. "I'd be upset if it turns out I can't," Xiv said. "What else are wings for?"

  "Well, those two should be able to help you figure it out if anyone can."

  "Okay," he said cheerfully, bounding off in search of the girls. I headed to my room and changed from my school uniform to my hero uniform. Instantly, I felt like a different person. I was no longer the poor charity case to be mocked or ignored. I was Shadowdemon, leader of a team of heroes and the guy who beat Masquerade with fists and wits. I might not be the best, or strongest, or even that far from a colossal screw-up, but I was somebody. I headed on out, making for the rooftops. The sun was still rather high in the sky as I made my way down Avenue C, and I drew people's attention. I didn't care. Sometimes just letting citizens know you were around help deter petty criminals.

  I perched across from May's diner, noting that the damage Jack had caused was long fixed. After a few moments, May emerged and crossed the street. "You up there," she said, "You're one of Greenie's friends, aren't you?"

  "Hold on a second," I said, moving to the fire escape and scrambling down to street level. May met me in the alley.

  "You're one of Greenie's friends," May said.

  "I knew Cupric, yes."

  "Knew? Past tense?"

  "I'm... sorry May, Cupric's dead."

  "What happened?"

  "A lunatic with powers attacked him," I said. "We took the guy down, but he..." I trailed off, noting the tear in May's eye.

  "And you took this damn long to tell me?"

  "I'm sorry," I said. "We don't advertise when one of us falls. The less mortal we seem--"

  "Oh, shut up," May said, running off. I really never seem to find the right thing to say. Returning to the rooftops, I found an isolated corner and perched like a gargoyle. As the sun set, I noticed a familiar figure in black and white approaching.

  "Hi Ixa," I muttered, unable to bring myself to speak at a normal volume.

  "When I heard you went on patrol in the afternoon, I got worried."

  "Just girl trouble. I can cope."

  "What happened?"

  "You want to offer me advice?"

  "Do you think I don't have perspective on the matter?" Ixa asked.

  "Well, it's not that."

  Ixa sat down next to me, her feet dangling off the edge. "Explain it to me."

  "It's not complicated. There's a girl at school. I've been pretty smitten, so I asked her out, and she turned me down. I'll get through it."

  "What exactly did she say?"

  "I think it went 'I'm sorry, I'm busy tonight.'"

  "That's not a 'No,'" Ixa said.

  "Sounded like one."

  "She rejected the schedule, not you. Bring her a marigold, ask her out for Thursday. If she asks why Thursday, tell her because Fridays are too crowded."

  "Do you think it will work?"

  "I guarantee it."

  "Thanks, Ixa," I said.

  Protecting a marigold on the bus ride proved to be somewhat difficult, and it was starting to look a little sad by the time I met Stephanie in the hall before first period. The piteous state of the flower caused her to chuckle. The fear that reaction generated almost paralyzed my vocal chords. "You said you were busy yesterday," I choked out, "How about Thursday?"

  "Why Thursday?"

  "Fridays are too crowded." Stephanie smirked and took the battered marigold.

  "Sure Travis," she said, tucking the flower into her lapel, "Thursday's fine." I started following her to class, unable to find the words to express myself. We settled into our seats in class, and I almost didn't notice roll call as the instructor went through it. Failing to announce your presence, even without an absence, was still a demerit. I narrowly avoided earning it when I answered on the second call of my name. As part of its efforts to show that the exorbitant tuition charged actually went towards education, about half of the classrooms in Leyden Academy had their chalkboards replaced with massive displays controlled from the instructor's desk. Jasper Sharpe taught in one such room.

  "In light of recent events, I have reorganized the lesson plan for this semester," Sharpe said. "I haven't removed anything, just put the unit on extraterrestrial relations forward a few weeks. If you want a new syllabus, it is available, but none of the actual subject matter has changed." On the board, a numbered list appeared. Four of the spaces were empty, but the fifth read "Ygnaza."

  "So far," Sharpe continued, "Five extraterrestrial races have visited Earth that we know of. Other than the Ygnaza, who can name one?" A lot of hands went up. Mine was not among them. Naturally, this drew the instructor's attention. They had a habit of targeting the inattentive or uncertain. "Mister Colfax."

  "Uhh, the Gulzane?"

  "That's number three. Most years they're the last ones remembered because they were non-sentient." With a click, "Gulzane" appeared in the number three slot. Not getting the expected deer in the headlights reaction, Sharpe moved on. He called on another student.

  "The Scya?"

  "Correct. First contact: nineteen fifty-three. Spurred the still-nascent space race and led to the '65 Moon landings, and eventually the '78 Martian expedition." The next student he called stammered out something unintelligible and got a disapproving shake of the head. "Miss Van der Veer?"

  "The Dathornaug. Crash-landed in Algeria in '67, forcibly recovered by their people two years later." Sharpe gave Stephanie an approving nod.

  "Almost started a war because the Algerians kept the landing a secret. The Dathornaug had no interest in dealing with us, and haven't come back. Now who was number four? Until this year, they were the most recent contact." He scanned the room for the unprepared, and called on a ginger giant in the back row. "Mister Hart?"

  "Uhh, wasn't it the Uta|la||tek|li?" I was not the only one surprised to hear the inter-syllable clicks.

  "Most people can't pronounce that correctly. Good work, Mister Hart," Sharpe said. "Because it is extremely difficult for native English speakers, we will accept Uta'la'tek'li as an alternate pronunciation for the purposes of this class." Sharpe returned to his desk. "We will start with first contact. It is unlikely that we will get to the Dathornaug incident before the end of the period today." He pushed the list of aliens to the side and pulled up a black-and-white photograph. It showed several suited diplomats standing next to a creature with a build like a stick. It was tripedal, but otherwise showing bilateral symmetry. Everyone surmised that the third leg evolved from a tail of some sort. In its hands, each with two fingers and a thumb, it held a book. Its head was sharply triangular, with a limp proboscis hanging from the bottom. Its large eyes each had two hourglass shaped pupils. If I remembered correctly, it was a male. Scyan females were shorter, wider and had three pupils per eye.

  "The Scya who made contact with us were missionaries, come to preach the word of their God to the 'less developed' species of the galaxy. While their arrival stirred quite the panic, we were fortunate that the tenets of their doctrine held that a conversion forcibly attained lacked faith and could not be accepted." Sharpe's lecture went on, branching into details surrounding the events of the fifties impacted by the arrival of the Scya. Sharpe was a very dry speaker
. With the residual giddiness of Stephanie's "yes," the lecture blurred into the rest of the school day.

  The desk in the garage had become my default location for doing homework. It was harder to focus than a more isolated location, but it let me keep an eye on what was going on around the hideout. It was the lack of conflicts that had me on edge. I was used to the petty bickering and verbal sniping. While I was reading up on past alien contacts, I remembered yet again that I'd never actually watched any of the Ygnaza interview videos. I decided to use my access as team leader to pull the unedited version from the Fund intranet.