Strike 3: The Returning Sunrise

by Charlie Wood

  Catching his breath from laughing, Strike turned to Orion. “Who are you gonna be?”

  “I,” Orion said, pressing his button, “am being your uncle.” Orion’s image was replaced by a fifty-ish, green-skinned man in a tuxedo. “The good news is we also have these.” The old man handed each of the heroes a little metal case. “These special contact lenses will allow us to see each other as we really are. So, if we look at each other, we’ll see our real identities, not the fake ones. That will make it much more easy to identify each other in the field.”

  “Good,” Strike said, “because if I have to look at Keplar like that anymore, I’m definitely not gonna be able to concentrate on the mission.”

  After carefully putting the contact lens into his eye, Strike blinked and looked at his friends. Once again, he saw a blue-and-white Siberian husky, a purple-and-green robotic boy, and a grey-haired man in a red coat.

  “There?” Keplar asked. “Is that better?”

  Strike shrugged. “Weirdly enough, I actually think I liked you better the other way.”

  Keplar closed his eyes and raised his nose. “Don’t get any funny ideas, I’m a woman with values.”

  “Now, if you look at yourself in a mirror,” Orion explained, “you will still see your fake identity, so don’t get freaked out if you pass your reflection, okay? Is everyone ready?” He handed the blowtorch back to Scatterbolt. “Here you go, start cutting. And please be more careful this time.”

  Eager and excited to get another try at the blowtorch, Scatterbolt knelt down and began using its orange flame to cut through the swirling wall of the Dark Nebula.

  Strike stood next to Orion. “You totally didn’t need to make Keplar the mom, did you?”

  Orion smiled. “I’m sure we could have figured out a way to make him the father. But I figured we could all use a good laugh. Plus, it’s good karma for him, considering how many times I’ve had to deal with his angry ex-girlfriends.”

  ***

  A few minutes later, Strike, Orion, Keplar and Scatterbolt were walking along a quiet sidewalk in the northern section of Harrison.

  “Okay,” Orion said. “As you can see, a lot has changed around here.”

  “You’re telling me,” Strike replied. Even though he was in Boston, he was surrounded by a foreign world: the city’s trendy stores and college bars were replaced with diners and ice cream shops, and three silent, gliding blimps were floating in the sky overhead. The boy was having a hard time figuring out where he was, but then it hit him; he was on Newbury Street. His favorite place to grab a slice of pizza before a Red Sox game—Vesuvio’s—was now a butcher shop, with sausages, racks of lamb-like animals, and the ribs of some kind of beast hanging in the window.

  “They have certainly made it their own, that’s for sure,” Orion said. “And there’s even less people out and about than I thought.”

  “Yeah, this is really creepy,” Scatterbolt said. “Where is everybody?”

  “The big celebration is happening at the Trident skyscraper, and it seems everybody that was invited decided to go. Which is great news for us, because it means less eyes on us in the streets.”

  “You okay over there, Keplar?” Strike asked, eyeing the husky.

  Behind them, Keplar was looking at his reflection in the window of a department store, checking out the figure of the large-boned Rytonian woman looking back at him.

  “I’m not sure,” the dog replied. “I think I’m having a hot flash. Is that possible?”

  Orion laughed. “No, it’s definitely not. Okay, our target is right in the middle of the Boston Public Garden, next to Boston Common. Everyone here knows what the Trident looks like, and we all know it won’t be hard to miss.”

  Sure enough, soon Tobin saw it; the soaring, three-pointed skyscraper with its hundreds of crystal clear windows was resting at the eastern end of Boston Common, in the middle of the Boston Public Garden, towering over every other building in sight.

  “Remember,” Orion said, as they drew closer to the building. “We know that the next phase of Rigel’s plan involves two major components. Keplar and Scatterbolt, you will investigate whatever is in the basement computer mainframe, while Strike and I head to the 105th floor to see what we can find.”

  “And there’ll be a car waiting for us outside in case anything goes wrong?” Strike asked.

  “Yes. My contact has gotten us a getaway car that closely resembles the vehicle of our nice little family here. If there’s any sign of trouble, we are to get out of the building and meet back at the car immediately. Everything make sense to everybody?”

  “Yup,” Strike said.

  “Got it,” Scatterbolt agreed.

  “Nothing makes sense anymore,” Keplar replied. “I’m starting to look at the world in a whole new light. Why are men such jerks?”

  “You know,” Orion said, “this should have no mental effect on you. It’s just a hologram.”

  “Then I suddenly have way more issues than I ever knew about.”

  As the group made their way to the front entrance of the Trident, Strike noticed a group of people waiting to get into the building, along with a large, green-skinned bouncer, who was holding an electronic tablet.

  “Uh-oh,” Strike said. “There’s a line. You sure our names are on the list, O?”

  Orion stepped into the back of the line. “I’m positive. My person on the inside has assured it. Plus, we have one important factor working for us: Rigel is way too overconfident, and security is incredibly lax. He thinks there’s no way we’ll be able to get past the Dark Nebula, and is clearly not prepared for us to be here. So, when you get to the front, just act natural.”

  “I will,” Scatterbolt replied. “I’ve already created a whole back story for my guy. My name is Felix and I’m a computer science prodigy billionaire with my own video game company. I’m also just an adult who looks like a kid, and I’m married to the most beautiful supermodel on Capricious, a woman named Larianne Esmeralda.”

  “How about we just stick with ‘you’re a nine-year-old Rytonian kid named Felix?’” Strike suggested.

  “Okay,” Scatterbolt said. “It might be easier that way.”

  “Just slightly,” Strike said with a smile.

  Keplar caught another glimpse of himself in the skyscraper windows. “I just can’t stop thinking about how wide this dress makes my hips look. Seriously, my body has just never been the same since the baby.”

  Strike stepped forward in line. “And, I’m officially creeped out.”

  “Guys,” Orion whispered, growing impatient, “can we please take this just a tad more seriously since we’re almost at the bouncer?”

  Strike looked up; the heavy-set, scowling bouncer was staring down at him. His round face desperately needed a shave, and also featured a tattoo of a twisting string of barbed wire around his right eye.

  “Name?” the bouncer asked.

  “Uh, Kurt Peterson,” Strike replied.

  The bouncer checked his list. As Strike peered forward, he could see that there was more information than simply the names of the guests on the tablet.

  “Where are you from?” the bouncer asked.

  “You mean now?” Strike replied, remembering the information Orion had told him to memorize. “I’m from right down the road, on Baum Street. But back home in Capricious I lived in the town of Barrie.”

  The bouncer looked at the list, then checked off Strike’s fake name.

  “Okay,” the bouncer said, smiling for the first time. “Have fun. Long live Rytonia.”

  “Absolutely,” Strike said with a grin.

  Stepping past the bouncer, the boy waited at the open entrance to the skyscraper. He could hear the celebration inside as he nervously watched the others reach the front of the line. But, there was no need to be worried; one after the other, the bouncer allowed Orion, Scatterbolt, and Keplar into the party.

  “Okay, Peterson family,” Strike said, as the others regrouped with him at the entra
nce. “Let’s see exactly what the heck is going on in here.”

  ***

  In a grand ballroom on the tenth floor of the Trident, Rytonia’s most famous singer—a beautiful, busty, blonde woman named Luna Davis—stepped onto stage from behind a golden curtain and belted her new hit song, all while the big brass band behind her joyously played along. Decked in a skin-tight white dress beaded with diamonds, she was a sight to behold.

  Oh we came here from another world, looking for a place to call our own

  The Daybreaker took us in, kept us warm, and made us feel at home

  When the world expands, and the Earth is ours, the universe will be free

  But until then, as the leaders get to work, come cel-e-brate with me!

  As the party guests danced in their finest suits and gowns and sipped from the champagne glasses being handed out by the dozens of waiters around the ballroom, Rigel stood awkwardly near his table, surrounded by two of Harrison’s most well-known power couples—the Carroways and the Elmsberrys.

  “I have to say, Rigel, you’ve really outdone yourself with this celebration,” Albert Carroway remarked.

  Rigel smiled and tugged on his collar, uncomfortable in his tuxedo. “Yes, well,” the red giant said with a smile, “parties aren’t usually my thing, but I knew it would be good for the people of the city. Vincent always told me how important celebrations were for the community.”

  Albert’s wife, Stella, finished her drink and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. “Well, I know I have spoken to many citizens tonight, and they could not be more thrilled. Celebrating like this in the Trident is a wonderful luxury for them.”

  “And for the party to be a celebration of the new world, and the fulfillment of Vincent’s dream?” Oscar Elmsberry added. “That just makes it all the better.”

  Albert nodded. “It really is an amazing achievement.”

  Oscar waved his glass around, his speech starting to slur. “Just being here, with all these people, so proud of their heritage and our new home, and just so happy to be with one another. And just celebrating our new lives...it’s really, truly amazing.”

  Dottie Elmsberry chuckled. “I think someone has had a little bit too much to drink.”

  The group laughed.

  “Maybe,” Oscar said with a grin, holding up his drink. “But I’m not going to stop now. We’re celebrating our new conquest, after all. Imagine: a life where we don’t have to worry about the barbarians of Earth.”

  Albert held his glass up. “Now that’s a reason to celebrate.”

  As the men clinked their glasses together, Rigel took advantage of the opportunity and stepped away.

  “Yes, keep going,” the red giant said. “Enjoy yourself. I’m a little uncomfortable with all this extravagance, but I know—” The communicator on Rigel’s belt buzzed. He looked down at it. “I’m sorry, excuse me a moment,” he said, before stomping across the party to a group of admiring partygoers gathered around Nova.

  “It’s something we really wanted to do,” the grey-masked man said to his captive audience. “We wanted to open up the skyscraper to the city, and throw other celebrations around the city, to show this belongs to all of us. We hope to make it an annual—”

  Rigel made his way through the crowd and grabbed Nova’s shoulder.

  “Nova, I need to speak with you,” he said, making it known it was not a request.

  Nova turned to the guests. “I’ll be right back.”

  The red giant and the grey-masked man stepped off to the side of the dance floor, in a corner where there were no partygoers.

  “What is it?” Nova asked. “What’s so urgent?”

  “They did it,” Rigel whispered. “There’s been a breakthrough.”

  “What kind of a breakthrough?”

  The red giant smiled. “The one we’ve been waiting for.”

  ***

  On the fourth floor of the skyscraper, Rigel and Nova followed Dr. Arthur Brooks into a science lab tucked away in the far corner of the Research and Development wing of the building.

  “Show it to us,” Rigel said. “Show us what you’ve found.”

  The green-skinned Dr. Brooks—dressed in his pristine, white lab coat— handed Rigel a manila folder. “Well, it’s just as we thought. Based on the findings from our tests on the Daybreaker, and the readings from our extractions, it is absolutely certain that his powers are transferable.”

  Rigel looked over the readings inside the file. “Just like his father’s.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “So this means what we were thinking is true?” Nova asked. “His energy powers can be transmitted to other people?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this will be permanent? The person on the other end of the transfusion will be granted similar powers to him permanently?”

  Dr. Brooks adjusted his glasses. “Yes, absolutely. It will result in a complete change in the recipients’ physical cosmology. But I must tell you, it will be a while before we—”

  “Where is he?” Rigel snapped. “Where is he now?”

  “We are just finishing up our latest extraction.”

  The doctor stepped in front of a massive, circular metal door. The door protruded from the wall and appeared to be over five-feet thick, with its front adorned with several electronic locks and a handle that looked like the captain’s wheel on a ship.

  As Dr. Brooks began entering his codes into the electronic locks, a horrible, agonized scream came from behind the door.

  “What is that sound?” Nova asked. “Who is that?”

  “That,” Dr. Brooks said, as he turned the handle of the door and opened it, “is the boy.”

  Rigel and Nova stepped inside. Across the gigantic, cold, metallic room, the Daybreaker was strapped into a metallic, bed-like contraption, which was several feet off the floor and standing straight up against the wall. The Daybreaker’s arms were extended out from his body and pressed against the contraption, and there were dozens of sensors, IV’s, and thick tubes protruding from his exposed biceps and chest.

  Nova followed Rigel and the doctor across the room, shocked at the sight of the Daybreaker, whose forehead and body were dripping with sweat. As the boy gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, a blue electricity wave around him snapped and flashed, reaching out towards the scientists gathered around him. The entire room was soon covered in the blue-and-white light from this seemingly alive energy, which only grew more wild and violent as the boy screamed in pain against the wall.

  Dr. Brooks approached one of the young scientists who was manning the controls of the energy extractor. “Two more rounds, Daybreaker,” the doctor said, “then we will be finished for the day. Dr. Matthews, bring it up to level seven-dash-twelve. And follow it with level ten-dash-eleven.”

  Dr. Matthews adjusted a knob on the controls in front of him, and the energy extractor hummed and vibrated, shaking the walls and floor of the room. As the Daybreaker screamed, louder than ever, his body contorted in pain. Nova stepped back, startled, as the blue electricity suddenly exploded from the boy’s chest, streaking across his arms and hands.

  Dr. Brooks waved his hands up and down, motioning for Dr. Matthews to turn off the energy extractor. “Very good, Daybreaker. That’s all for today. You did very well. Now it’s time for a rest.”

  The humming of the machine stopped, and finally the Daybreaker’s arms and legs went limp, still strapped against the wall. Several nurses and doctors dashed to the Daybreaker and began unlatching his wrists and ankles, being careful not to touch the parts of his body that were still pulsing with blue electricity. Exhausted and nearly unconscious, with his body involuntarily shaking, the nurses helped him down and carried him to a wheeled hospital bed in the middle of the room. As they pushed him toward a door, a group of doctors frantically gathered around him, checking his pulse and shining lights into his dilated pupils.

  “Is it always so violent?” Nova asked.

  “Yes, unfortuna
tely. We haven’t found a way yet for the extraction to not result in incredible pain for the Daybreaker.”

  “As long as it does not kill him,” Rigel said.

  “No, it certainly won’t. Not unless we go too far with our extractions, but we know where the line is that we must not cross.”

  Rigel stepped toward a gigantic, round, metal container attached to the energy extractor by thick pipes. The silo-like tank took up nearly a quarter of the room, and was covered in warning signs and meters that displayed the readings of the energy stored inside.

  “And all of the power is being stored here?” the red giant asked, placing a hand on the silo. He could feel the electricity vibrating inside.

  Dr. Brooks stood next to Rigel. “Yes, since our very first extraction of the Daybreaker, all of his transmittable power has been stored in this unit. The amounts are still incredibly concentrated now, and much too dangerous for transmission. But once we are able to dilute the power and separate it into smaller doses, the sky is the limit for whoever wishes to receive the first transmission.”

  Rigel looked up, admiring the energy tank. It was so large that metal catwalks wound around its top, with scientists walking along the walkways high up near the ceiling, inspecting the electricity readings.

  “It’s just as we thought,” the red giant said. “Just like his father, his powers are transmittable. This will change everything for us.”

  “When do you think you will have the first doses ready?” Nova asked.

  “Not for another few weeks or so. Maybe a month. We are still testing the extracted power, to see how far we can go, what size doses will be safe for the recipients. The level of his power is stunning, and we need to make sure we know how much is viable to transmit at a time. We—none of us—have ever seen energy and powers this strong.”

  “Good,” Rigel said. “Take your time. We want to make sure we get this right. Where is the boy now? Will he be able to speak?”

  “Yes. He’ll be a little disoriented, but he’ll be conscious. He’s in the recovery room.”