by Nick Svolos
I dropped down to the lead plane. The pilot stared intently at his instruments, oblivious to my presence. Figuring that the polite thing to do would be to introduce myself, I reached out and gently rapped on the canopy.
The poor guy almost lost it. His head spun at the sound and, upon seeing me, his eyes widened in terror and his hand twitched on the joystick. The jet lurched suddenly to the right before he recovered control. I chuckled, and decided to enjoy the moment. Flying next to him, I rolled over onto my back, tucked my arms under my head and grinned at him. I pointed at him and then his wingman, and made a shooing motion. Hopefully, that meant, “Go away,” to him like it would to an American. Hand signals differ from culture to culture. Whatever my hand motions communicated, it did the trick, because the fighters backed off to a respectful distance. They followed us until we left North Korean airspace, and broke off when a couple of Navy F/A-18’s joined our formation.
Herculene came on the line, “Ultiman says we’re clear now, babe. You can come in.”
A hatch opened on the back of the AngelJet, and in the light that escaped, I could see my lady, smiling and waving at me. I picked up the pace and flew on in. I wish I could say I managed this gracefully, but I’d be lying. I misjudged the airflow at the back end of the Jet and wound up in a cargo net with a bunch of crushed crates.
Herculene giggled and flipped the switch to close the hatch. The hydraulics whined and drowned out the roar of jet wash. Before the hatch was closed, she was kneeling next to me in the mess I’d made. “Rube, I’m so sorry for the way I acted. Ultiman explained the whole thing.”
“It’s OK.” I grinned up at her. “I’m sure I’ll eventually do something that merits a chewing out. You let that slide, and we’ll be even.”
“Another prophecy from your time-traveling buddy?”
“Naw, I’m just projecting based on past experience. One thing I’ll never do, though, is lie to you. We clear on that?”
“I know. It’s just ... I don’t know. Trust means everything to me. You know. I kind of lead a crazy life. Since we got together, you’re the one thing in my life that makes sense. You’re kinda like my rock. When the whole thing with Archangel happened, well, I freaked out. I’m really sorry. I’ve been sweating bullets that I’d messed everything up between us.”
“Not a chance. Now, quit apologizing,” I said as I levered myself into a sitting position and kissed her. I’d been waiting for one of those for far too long, and I didn’t know when we’d have time for another, so I made sure we got our money’s worth.
You gotta live for the moment in this business.
XIX
Now that we were unlikely to be blown out of the sky by trigger-happy North Koreans and he was no longer limited by my plodding efforts to keep up, Ultiman kicked the AngelJet in the butt and accelerated to cruising speed. I went to check on my fellow journalists. Archangel had taken good care of them, and everyone was looking a lot better than when I left. They were all dehydrated and malnourished from their time in captivity, and Hawes was still coughing; but we’d been given clearance to drop our civilian passengers off with the carrier group holding station in international waters off the North Korean coast, so medical attention was only a few minutes away.
Grateful smiles greeted me when I entered the passenger compartment, only to be replaced with probing questions moments later. They knew something big was afoot. I knew the feeling. Professional courtesy dictated that I give them enough to get their stories out. Sitting on this one so I could get the scoop seemed petty and selfish at this point. Besides, I couldn’t really report on a story I was such a big part of. So, I held an impromptu press conference and explained things the best I could without revealing anything that might put our mission at risk. Naturally, I wasn’t about to let them in on the time travel thing, which led to some tap-dancing about how the Force dose managed to find its way into my prison cell. With Louie’s help, I managed to get promises from all of them to keep me and my temporary superpowers out of the story, so at least I didn’t have that hanging over my head. We agreed that our official story was going to be that some mysterious hero showed up and miraculously pulled off everyone’s rescue. As Louie put it, “It’s poor form to reward the guy who just saved your asses by blowing his secret identity.”
After a quick stop on the flight deck of the USS Ronald Reagan, I braced myself for Ultiman’s inevitable call for a debriefing. It’s what he did. Something went down, the team dealt with it, and now he’d want to get the team together and review matters and plan their next step. If I’d learned anything about the man in the last two months, it’s that he was consistent. Now that I had an idea of how old he was, and I could place him in at least two of our wars in the previous century, his success as a leader made more sense. He was a military man. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he had almost two millennia of experience under arms. Imagine it. He’d seen everything from massed formations of swords and spears to machine guns and tanks. No wonder the guy never smiled. When all this was over, I was going to get an interview out of him if it killed me.
Soon, Ultiman turned the controls over to Archangel and joined us in the passenger compartment to kick off the meeting. Video screens lowered from overhead as Archangel patched us into a conference call with Ben Jefferson, Lieutenant General Drummond and Captain Dawson. Ultiman kicked the meeting off by asking for an update on the situation in Los Angeles.
So far, the LAPD had managed to find eighteen of the robots hidden around town. When I shared my observation of thirty of the death machines at Dr. Schadenfreude’s base, the mood turned grim. They still had a lot of them to track down. With The Angels in the Mojave, they were going to need all the help they could get.
Fortunately, the cops weren’t in this alone. The President had approved a possibly unconstitutional military operation to defend the city, and Drummond had a full battalion of troops deployed at various locations throughout the region. Their cover story of preparing for a deployment drill at the port of San Pedro was holding for the moment. In the meantime, Ben had been working Ultiman’s contact list for all it was worth. Panhandler was covering the west side while Golden Crusader patrolled the Valley. Peacemaker was down at the South Central substation with a fresh load of HEAT rounds he was itching to try out. Shibboleth and Moonchild were standing by in reserve at the Tower. He even had Orangutan and a few of the former Powerhouse members flying in from New York. Quite an accomplishment, considering how acrimonious that team’s break-up was. When Team Powerhouse fell apart, it made The Eagles’ break-up look like a mild disagreement.
Confident that the defense of Los Angeles was in good hands, Ultiman turned the floor over to me to bring everyone up to speed on how Schadenfreude’s base was set up. Archangel put a map of the desert on a nearby touchscreen, and I did my best to mark the doors that I knew about and where I suspected the long range delivery systems were awaiting the command to deploy the nanovirus globally. Drummond told us the Air Force had fighters standing by to deal with them if they launched.
The rest of the meeting dealt with planning the attack. Since the totality of my experience of invading hostile supervillain lairs consisted of falling through a hole in a mountain and getting shot by a humorless WALL-E wannabe, I kept my mouth shut and listened while the professionals did the heavy lifting. Ultiman led the team through the process, planning contingencies and counter-contingencies for each step of the assault. Every now and then, a question would come up that I could answer, but other than that, I just tried to keep up. Eventually, I kind of tuned out. I found myself mentally going over the various routes through Schadenfreude’s lair, especially what I’d do if Doughboy’s access tube was inaccessible. I had to consider the possibility that it had been found after our escape. I worried that I was gambling a lot on a mad scientist’s ego. There was absolutely no reason a sane man wouldn’t just activate the nanovirus and clear out at the first sign of The Angels’ attack. What if I’d misjudged him? What if he
unleashed the robots in town, sending them into a berserker attack on the city, turning Los Angeles into a war zone? Basically, I just stood there second-guessing my analysis and generally making myself nuts.
“Earth to Reuben.”
My self-doubt session broke when Herculene poked me in the ribs. The meeting must have ended without my noticing it, because we were alone in the galley.
“Wow, you really zoned out, there. You OK?”
“Uh, sorry. Guess I was lost in thought. Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing important,” she shrugged. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Not sure they’re worth that much. Mostly just going over the data, looking to see if I missed anything. Geez, there’s just so much at stake.”
“Don’t think about it.”
“What? It’s all I can think about.”
“OK, look, it’s normal. Yeah, there’s like a million moving parts, and there’s a lot that can go wrong. It’s not unreasonable to feel overwhelmed. But, it’s not that bad, Rube. We’re a team, and we have a lot of backup on this one. Stuff’s gonna go wrong. It always does. But we’ll pull through. Improvise. You’re awesome at that. If coming up with whacky ideas and making ‘em work was a superpower, you’d already have your own fan club.”
“Heh. ImprovisationMan.” I stuck out my chin and assumed a heroic pose.
Herculene giggled. “Truth, justice, and comedy based on audience suggestions.”
“How do you do it, babe? I mean, the pressure…”
She reached over and took my hand. “Look, if we do nothing, the world ends, right? It’s not like we can make things much worse. So, we’re playing with house money. Just focus on the task at hand. We have a target, we have a plan, and we’ve got a bunch of world-class butt-kickers to get the job done. We’re in the best possible position to make a difference. That’s all we can ask for. It’s more than we had a few hours ago.” She gave my hand a little squeeze, the way she did when she was done with one subject and ready to move on. “So, how ya like it?”
“Like what?”
“Being a super. It’s gotta be pretty cool running around with Ultiman’s powers.”
“I hadn’t really thought of it. Flying’s cool, I guess. Did I tell ya I beat up Glorious Leader?”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“Yeah. My first superhero fight, and it turns out I was the bad guy. GL’s a prisoner. The Army’s holding his family hostage. Some general’s running the whole show.”
“That’s incredible! Why doesn’t he just rescue them?”
“Too many people, and the way I understand it, they’re spread out all over their province. We need to talk about helping him, once this is over.”
“Think we can?”
“I know we can. The question is whether we can do it without starting a war or being branded as criminals. Anyhow, one thing at a time.”
“That’s the spirit, slugger.” She pecked me on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go join the others before people start gettin’ ideas about what we’re doing up here.”
***
We spent the rest of the trip hanging out with the team in the passenger cabin. There was a lot of light conversation punctuated by frequent forays into the galley for food. Herculene and Mentalia decided it was of the utmost importance that I go into combat with a better costume than a sweatshirt and a pair of wrecked slacks. The dress shoes I’d started the day in were all but done in, too. Apparently, wearing their products while picking up a tank wasn’t recommended by the manufacturer. The ladies declared a makeover was in order. I looked desperately to Suave and SpeedDamon for rescue, but they just shrugged and looked away. They knew there was nothing they could do for the condemned man. My fate was sealed.
The women dug out some spare items from various closets and gear bags, and eventually, after making me try on damn near everything, they hit on a combo that worked for them, a loose-fitting blue short-sleeved shirt made out of skinsuit material, and a pair of skin-tight black trousers, made out of the same stuff and tucked into red boots.
I looked like some guy going to a 1980’s disco. I felt like an idiot.
The final piece was the mask. “You gotta protect your identity,” Mentalia told me. “You never know who might be there. You don’t want them snapping a photo of Reuben Conway flying around, do you?” She offered me a choice. A spare domino mask, apparently from Suave’s costume, or a knit ski mask. It was bright green and had little yarn snowflakes sewn into it.
I selected the ski mask. “I’m more worried about someone seeing me in this get-up. You two are enjoying this way too much.”
“Yes,” Herculene replied with a giggle. “Yes we are.” She fitted the mask over my head, adjusting it to make sure my eyes and mouth were clear and finishing the job with a quick smooch. “There you go. Now, we just gotta make up a name for you. That’s the hardest part of the job, you know.” Everyone nodded agreement.
Oh, good Lord, spare me.
“How about, ‘The Pummelin’ Pulitzer’?” SpeedDamon suggested.
Mentalia said, “Ski Bum!”
“From that get up, I’m thinking ‘Captain Cast-off’.” Bill laughed.
“El Luchador del Nieve?” Suave tossed in.
“Really? You guys are gonna make me do this?” I groaned.
“Of course!” the love of my life exclaimed. “Babe, if I let you go out there without getting the full superhero experience, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Alright, then. Seeing as how I’m giving these powers back to Ultiman as soon as I possibly can, how ‘bout Captain Temporary?”
“It’s good, but it doesn’t have ‘flow’,” Bill decided. “Let’s see. Synonyms for Temporary. Substitute. Placeholder. Stand-in. Oh, I kinda like that.”
“Captain Stand-in!” the rest of the team cheered in unanimous agreement.
Herculene smiled and declared dramatically, “And thus, a hero is born!”
***
The AngelJet cleared the last ridge, went into a steep dive and leveled off at the last second to cruise just a few yards above the surface of the valley floor. Cacti and other desert flora flashed by. “Brace yourselves, people. Approaching drop site in five ... four,” Ultiman called over the coms. Mentalia encased Bill, Suave and herself in a bubble and floated onto the open ramp of the cargo bay. Three seconds later, she launched into space. Through the opening, we saw them come to earth, Suave starting to blast away at the rocks over the hangar door as soon as she dropped the bubble. And then they were gone from view as the AngelJet went into a steep climb and ducked behind the mountain. “Stand-in, get your team ready for drop.”
We moved into the cargo bay. Ultiman would swing around the valley in a lazy bank to give Suave time to blast into the Hangar and hopefully draw out the base’s defenders before bringing us to the motor pool door. I looked at Herculene. She had that grin on her face, her eyes shining with anticipation, the way she always did when a fight was imminent. She loved this stuff. SpeedDamon polished off a last energy bar and buried the wrapper in his pocket.
Suave’s voice came over the communicator. “We are in. Engaging hostiles.” Archangel muted the din of whatever was going on in the Hangar. The deck lurched as Ultiman tightened his bank and sent the jet racing to our drop-off point. He began his count down, and I grabbed Herculene and SpeedDamon, pulling them in close.
“Go!” Ultiman ordered, and I stepped out into space.
I crossed my eyes, and we came to a halt a few feet above the desert floor, maybe thirty feet from the motor pool door. I dropped my teammates, flew over to the mountainside, jammed my fists through the rocky camouflage and tore the door from its moorings.
The big garage was empty as we entered. I pointed at a terminal on the wall, and Damon zipped over to it while I tried to remember where Doughboy’s secret passageway was. Herculene took up a position by the elevator bank. After a few seconds, I found the panel that hid the ladder well, and once I pried it open,
I took a look up.
All I got for my effort was a face full of robot treads.
About a half ton of angry steel crashed down on my head, slamming me against the hard concrete edge where the motor pool floor ended and the ladder well began. It hurt like hell. Without Ultiman’s durability, my skull would have been crushed. As it was, I was momentarily stunned. Out of nothing more than pure reflex, I punched up through the machine’s torso, grabbed hold of something and yanked it out. The robot went limp and I wrenched myself free. The robot fell down the tube. I risked a quick glance up to see several more robots working their way down the ladder well.
“Damn,” I called out. “The ladder’s full of robots.”
SpeedDamon didn’t have any better luck with his task. His job was to attempt to hack into the base’s systems from the terminal. He called out something on the comms, but he spoke too fast for me to make it out. I asked Archangel to translate and replay anything Damon said, the way she did for Ultiman.
“The motor pool terminal’s a no-go. Looks like it’s shut down,” was what he said.
The elevator doors opened, and Herculene narrowly dodged out of the way as a blast of bright green plasma turned a section of the wall on the far side of the garage into incandescent steam. Sledge stepped through, scanning for targets. Herculene called out his arrival as she leaped behind a stack of nearby crates for cover. A second set of elevator doors opened, and in an eerie motion, Professor Polymer lengthened himself and snapped to the far side of the garage.