Gruefield 18 (Tarnished Sterling Omnibus)

by Robert McCarroll

  "It's just above the one marked 'Main Reactor'."

  "Turn the knob there to fifty." I rotated the indicated knob down from a hundred. The red digits next to it sank slowly, chasing after the value on the dial.

  "It's at fifty."

  "In the section marked 'Main Reactor' there should be a dial for 'Control Rods'."

  "It's at zero."

  "Slowly turn it towards a hundred percent." As I turned the knob, the red digits in the Fusion Generator started to climb.

  "I'm getting an increase in the numbers for the Fusion Generator. It doesn't look all that healthy."

  "No, that's normal. When the control rods are first introduced, it increases neutron output. The fusion generator soaks those up, remember?"

  "Okay," I said. I continued turning the knob for the control rods. When I hit a hundred, the number for the Fusion Generator was at eighty-seven. It started to sag. "Control rods at one hundred percent. The number on the fusion generator is falling."

  "Turn down that knob so that you hit zero when it does. Try and get it as close as you can to minimize leakage."

  "Shouldn't this be automated?" I asked as I turned the knob in pursuit of the red digits.

  "It'd a prototype. We're lucky there's a shutdown routine," Torquespiral said.

  "We're at zero."

  "In the 'Main Reactor' section, there are switches for the turbines, switch those to 'off'." I found and flicked them.

  "These pressure gauges by the turbine switches are rising."

  "Waste heat that would have been absorbed into the fusion generator is boiling the coolant. Keep an eye on those gauges. Also, do you see the core temperature?"

  I read off the values for the temperature and the pressure. "Is that good or bad?"

  "It's within design margins according to this."

  "Okay, um, I'd love to sit here and watch these needles, but, I've kinda been shot."

  "Why didn't you say something?" Torquespiral said.

  "I figured turning this thing off was urgent."

  "Not even close. So long as it was stable, we could have left it on for someone else to turn off."

  "We'll send someone to fish you out of the cockpit," Jennifer said.

  "How's Irvin?"

  "He's in shock, but he shielded us from the cluster bombs."

  "In case anyone cares," Photovolt said, "I'm kind of not all right over here."

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Your giant robot is standing on the building I'm in. And I'm not sure if my leg is still attached or if the roof cut it off."

  "Are you gushing blood?"

  "No."

  "Your leg is probably still attached," I said.

  "It might be broken then."

  "Hang in there," Jennifer said. "Bleeders first."

  I was starting to wonder if I had a reserved room at Vanguard. I was such a frequent patient, I almost could get away with it. Naw, they needed the space to help people when I'm not torn up. The worst part of getting patched up was when they had to replace the burned-out component in my eye. It brought back too many memories of previous eye operations. But at least I could see again. Of the people I expected to visit me, Nikki Greeler was not on the list. She sat down in my guest chair and waited for me to acknowledge her arrival.

  "I assume there's something you wanted to say," I said.

  "They arrested the publicist for tampering with the car," Nikki said.

  "They found evidence against her?"

  "Yeah, the police got around to figuring it out," she said.

  "That's not why you came by."

  "I hate you," Nikki said.

  "Not news."

  "The public loves you because you go around beating up giant monsters and particularly vile people," she said. "But along the way, you're trampling all over basic civil liberties to get there. You should be as reviled as those you fight."

  "I know," I said.

  "Wait, what?"

  "When I ran into Jester of Anubis in the Barons, I couldn't tell he hadn't gone over to outright villainy. It didn't look all that different. How many years was Arclight counted among the 'good guys'? When his resentment and frustration boiled over, his methods were not that much more extreme than what he'd been doing before. The only difference was he stopped trying to avoid casualties."

  "I don't think he had giant robots before," Nikki said. "But I get what you're saying. I'm just surprised you noticed it yourself."

  "I'm not an idiot."

  "Fooled me." Nikki's attention was drawn to the doorway where Ixa stood.

  "I can still erase her memory," Ixa said.

  "No," I said. "That's just wrong. Don't even joke about it."

  "Who's joking?"

  "I get it," Nikki said, "I'm leaving." Nikki stood and walked out. Ixa closed the door behind her. Lifting her mask, Stephanie gave me a kiss.

  "Stop being an idiot," she said, putting her mask back in place and taking the seat Nikki had vacated.

  "What?"

  "You didn't even think to see if you could push a force bubble through the lighting shield? That would have let you get multiple team members inside at once instead of trying to fight Firegod hand-to-hand by yourself."

  "I-" I said. "No, I didn't think of that."

  "We have to work on your tactics," Ixa said. "Which you will have plenty of time to do."

  "Why?"

  "You've been suspended for acting alone while on limited duty."

  "Ah. And what's Agent Overton saying?"

  "His forensics guys keep coming up with evidence that points to a magical mishap. And for some reason Sanalta isn't making a big stink over Bussard's death. They've also insisted that the FBI turn over the remains of his laptop instead of trying to decrypt the hard drive."

  "How's Photovolt?"

  "Clean break, he'll be fine. Both he and Stamp have already checked out of here."

  "Since I have a lot of free time, you think we can schedule a little time for the two of us?"

  "You kidding me, right?" Ixa asked. "I'm still stuck as team lead. You know how much of a time sink the paperwork is."

  "Yes. You can pull that with someone who hasn't had to juggle the paperwork themselves."

  "All right. But you're the one with the free time, so you plan the date."

  "Sure," I said. "So, what else have I missed?"

  "Most of the votes for the new trainee are for Ersatz. Yours hasn't been counted yet, but it's not going to tip the balance."

  "Nice to know my vote counts," I said.

  "Did you know Neutrino had a younger brother?"

  "Why the sudden change of subject?"

  "Because that younger brother is apparently Ersatz's grandfather. Which is why the old man took her on as a sidekick in the first place."

  "Would also explain why he's not as brusque with her." I paused. "Can I change subject again?"

  "Sure."

  "Any sign of Cold Case?"

  "Creep hasn't been seen or heard from since he dropped me off in the park."

  "Did he do anything to you?"

  "Not that I know of," Ixa said. "But I was unconscious for part of the time. I'm going to feel better taking him at his word that I was too young for him."

  "Okay," I said. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But I had to know if I needed to hurt him."

  Ixa laughed. "I could manage that myself."

  "I know."

  "So, what else are you going to do with your free time?"

  "I have to get comfortable with the shadow," I said. "And not hate myself over it."

  "There's something you should bear in mind," Stephanie said.

  "What's that?"


  "You don't have to do it alone."

  Dirge of Carcosa

  Part 1

  A hundred yards from a benchrest at a stationary target, I should have been able to make that shot. Instead, the round fell a full two inches below the bullseye. The spent brass bounced off the table and landed in the dirt. I frowned, lined up my crosshairs, and tried again. And again. And again. By the time I'd emptied the rifle's magazine, the ground next to me was littered with brass, and the paper target had holes everywhere except the middle. My uncle made a noncommittal noise at the poor showing. Kyle Walker looked more like my brother Donny than he did me. It was probably the light brown hair. Kyle was my mother's fraternal twin. He didn't talk to my father if he could help it, but whatever bad blood passed between those two wasn't held against the rest of the family.

  Kyle's house was in the middle of nowhere. I forget how many acres around it he owned, but it was the perfect place to go hunting or fishing. Or, when it was out of season for those, to just take pot shots at paper targets. The rifle was mine; we just stored it at Kyle's house because there was nowhere to shoot in the city. I knew it was accurate, the problem was the mess in the back of my mind. It was obvious even to Kyle.

  "Something's bugging you, you're all over the paper," he said, taking a swig from his beer bottle. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but you drove all the way out here by your lonesome, I figure it's not something tiny."

  "I caused an accident that killed five people," I said.

  "Ouch."

  "I interrupted a ritual that was more sensitive than I thought. The magic blew up in the caster's face. Quite literally," I said. "The blast brought the building down on us."

  "Magic always was a bit touchy," Kyle said.

  "Worst part is, every time I go over it, I can't see what I could have done differently. It all ends up with a boom."

  "I take it since you're here and not in jail, the authorities agree?"

  "Legally, I've been cleared," I said. "But still..."

  "I know. It's even worse than the ones you can't save. It's not supposed to be easy."

  "I come up with rationalizations to try to make me feel better, but they just cause me to feel worse."

  "How so?"

  "If I can accept the type of excuses that rattle around in my head, then I'm a terrible human being."

  "But you didn't accept them. What's that say?"

  "I don't know," I said.

  "Police your brass and pack it up, it looks like it's going to rain," Kyle said. He headed into the house, bottle in hand. I hurriedly picked everything up that I could, including my spent brass. The first drops fell on me as I was headed into the house. The two-story building was draped in cedar shakes and shingles. The wood had been bleached gray by the elements, but it was otherwise sound. It was more house than he needed, but my grandfather had built it. The kitchen had a rustic motif to it, but the living room was more about modern conveniences. Kyle had ensconced himself in an overstuffed recliner with his beer and remote control. His posture suggested someone fifty pounds heavier than he was. I cleaned the rifle and returned it to its case before finding a seat on the couch.

  "Anything on?"

  "Nope," Kyle said. "I have two thousand channels, and it's all junk."

  "You were awfully calm when I mentioned the accident," I said.

  "I've been in your shoes. I'd wager you had limited information, just that if the bad guys managed to finish what they were up to, it'd be even worse. You interrupted whatever they were doing and it went and blew up in your face," Kyle said. "It's happened to me too. I don't have any sage advice, just a sympathetic ear."

  "A lot of people have offered up their interpretation of sage advice lately," I said. "So I appreciate... well, I'm not sure what to call it."

  "That's okay. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

  "Thanks."

  Silence fell over the room as I slouched in my seat. Kyle continued flipping through channels with the sound off. Before either of us came with with something to say, the phone rang. Kyle took another swig of beer as he looked at the caller ID box. He sighed before answering. "Hello." He listened to the person on the other end. "Small problem, I've put away a few beers and I shouldn't be driving," Kyle said, then paused again. "Yeah, he's here." Kyle held out the receiver to me. "It's your dad, in his official capacity."

  I took the phone. "Hello?"

  "When you drove out there, did you bring your suit?" Dad asked.

  "I've been suspended."

  "That didn't answer the question. Do you have your costume with you?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "You're going to be on temporary duty for a few hours."

  "What sort of emergency came up?"

  "It's not an emergency just yet, but we need to prevent it from turning into one."

  "Do you have any specifics?" I asked.

  "One of the Scya got separated from his security detail. He went missing for a while before turning up in the general store up the road from where you are. It will be a few hours before his security detail will reach that town," Dad said. "Needless to say he's already drawn a crowd, and the local authorities are tied up keeping them apart. We need someone to keep an eye on the Scya and act as a buffer between him and the sheriff's deputies. Most importantly, prevent the situation from escalating."

  "So an interplanetary incident in the making," I said.

  "We don't want to ruin years of goodwill because a few idiots threw rocks at the alien. Just get there, keep things calm, and make sure he's still in one piece when his security detail picks him up."

  "All right, I'm on it."

  Pickman's Crossing was built on the spot in the river where it became shallow enough to ford. It was also the highest navigable point from where it split off the Rainbow River. From there, the only important road ran to the coal mines. The General Store was a big box store in everything but name. Having only one location, it would be knocked out of business the moment one of the international chains plopped down in Pickman's Crossing. Off to the right was hardware and housewares. In the back was automotive and electronics. On the left, past sporting goods, were the groceries. It wasn't hard to locate the Scya, I just headed into the most dense crowd I could find. My own presence raised more than a few eyebrows.

  The suit I wore had the nasty habit of clinging to every curve of skin larger than a goosebump. That made choice of undergarments vital for modesty's sake. It was charcoal gray and black, covering from the neck down. I wore an oversized domino mask, and my hair was shorter than I normally wore it. The hair on the back of my head had been singed off not that long ago, and the sides had been buzzed down to hide it. The top had been shortened mainly to avoid being overly-distinctive. It was starting to grow back, but from a distance, the sides of my head were still more flesh tone than not. The cut looked almost military, and I hated it.

  I moved through the crowd as if I owned the place and approached the brown-uniformed deputies holding them at bay. Their reaction was mild surprise.

  "Who are you, and where's our regular mask, Infern..."

  "Infernoclast," I said.

  "Yeah, where is he?" the deputy asked. His name tag read Mallory.

  "It's his day off," I said. "I'm covering for him."

  "You guys get days off?"

  "Of course, they're just not publicly posted."

  "Anyway, who are you, and do you have one of those blue cards?"

  "I'm Shadowdemon," I said, producing my BHA card. The Bureau of Hero Affairs was the omnipresent and obnoxious agency that licensed us. Not just anyone could put on a costume with the intent of fighting crime and thwarting villains. That would be too easy. Actually, that left too many unfunded liability claims when the collateral damage be
gan to rack up. The agency's overreach began when it took over the role of providing insurance to licensed heroes. Being government, it couldn't stop there. It moved on to regulating code names and teams, then everyone with powers.