Superluminary

by Olivia Rising

  When Andrey’s eyes had adjusted to the light, he glared at the mirror. In it he saw the reflection of a man in his early thirties whose athletic figure was hidden beneath a saggy sweater, pajama pants, and a crooked posture. It was a man whose face hadn’t seen a razor blade in over a week. The barbarous facial growth, sprouting around the hard line of his mouth, made him look like a stranger even to himself.

  He was considered attractive once, he knew, and not that long ago. People Magazine had put him on the cover more than once, and his fan mail had included offers of marriage and offspring so frequently that Alexandra teased him about it at least once a week.

  He turned away from the stranger in the mirror to use the facilities, a good enough reason to stop glaring at the reflection of a killer, at least for a few moments. Andrey washed his hands just as another commercial jingle beyond the bathroom doorway stopped. It was replaced by a charismatic man’s voice that welcomed his audience back to ANBE news.

  Andrey groaned. ANBE was an American novelty channel with regularly updated Evolved news, or, at least, with what passed as ‘news’ these days.

  His hands clenched into fists at the sink. He should have checked the channel logo before setting the remote aside. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to rush back into the living room and smash the TV against the wall. Instead, he decided to endure the newscast, challenging the nagging feeling that he was going insane. He was going to have to face the world’s opinion of him at some time or another. Might as well be now.

  The Shanti incident was still the main headline. The growing avalanche of suspicions, accusations, and conspiracy theories were so intriguing that they trumped any official statements.

  “We turn our attention back to India, where the united voices of the president and the two parliamentary houses continue to demand answers. They are asking for an official listing of UNEOA members involved in the approval of the execution order that was issued on Shanti.” Silence followed, a dramatic pause, as emphasis on the last word hung in the air.

  “The calls for transparency persist,” the newscaster’s voice continued. “An increasing number of member nations officially deny their involvement in the events leading up to Shanti’s execution. India’s withdrawal from the United Nations Evolved Oversight Authority remains a strong possibility, and other nations may follow suit.”

  Andrey raised his head, wincing at the reflection in the mirror. You did this, he accused.

  “Out on the streets, millions of people worldwide are calling for justice. It's no surprise these demands are loudest in India, which is where our Middle East correspondent, Barbara Jean, has covered this story for the last two days. Barbara, can you enlighten us on the current situation?”

  The voice of the newscaster’s female counterpart joined in after a couple of seconds, eager to share the latest advancements with the audience.

  “Yes, Daniel, it is now 2:04 in the afternoon in New Delhi, and crowds numbering in the hundreds of thousands continue to demonstrate in all the major cities throughout India. While the situation looks relatively controlled here, the US Embassy was raided by a crowd of rioters just a few hours ago. According to our interpreters, their anger is directed at Covenant headquarters in New York.”

  Andrey glared at the tiled bathroom floor. Six stories below him, the faceless top brass had been hiding out in their posh offices all week. When they returned to their families in the Hamptons on the weekend, nobody would even bat an eye at them.

  “The people have even been burning UNEOA flags, as well as fan merchandise dedicated to the various Covenant members—especially those of Samael and Radiant, the group’s main enforcers—”

  On impulse, Andrey smashed his fist into the bathroom mirror. It shattered with a loud crystalline cracking sound before he realized what he had done. Glittering shards of glass rained down into the sink and onto the floor. A few broken fragments of his reflection still clung to the mirror frame. A single eye glared back at him, accusing him, reminding him of how he had ruined everything that mattered. Identity. Reputation. Both shaped a man’s role in the world and made him who he was.

  A year and a half ago, Andrey had been an insignificant Russian architect—nothing more than a newly transitioned nobody. They brought him here, and he had looked out the windows of this apartment with a dream and a silver cross around his neck, wanting nothing more than to inspire hope in people. By now, the whole world knew how that turned out.

  Andrey looked down at his unscathed fist as a distant memory of something Alexandra once said passed through his mind. Her voice had been softened by humor and her Greek accent at the time, months before she tried so hard to lose them both.

  You can’t cut yourself, you silly thing. You know that.

  He didn’t remember the context. It was buried somewhere beneath everything that had gone wrong lately, all those things nagging at him because he couldn’t fix them. Politics. The never-ending power struggles with Samael. Numerous world issues. The bloody Covenant itself, and what it was turning into. What was he turning into?

  Andrey silently worked his jaw, leaning into the edge of the vanity. An idea that had been at the back of his mind surfaced. In an instant, he made a decision. A decision he could never reverse. Shattering the mirror had taken something out of him. Some broken part of himself that wanted to hide away, craving alcohol and solitude. Once he made the decision, shutting out the dozens of voices that tried to dissuade him, he felt better. More stable. More like himself than he had in over a week. Most of his weariness had subsided as well, overpowered by the need to act.

  The intercom system crackled as he walked into the bedroom. Naturally, he couldn’t expect damage to UNEOA property to go without notice. He just hoped it wouldn’t be Samael on the other end of the line. Andrey was short on patience right now. With Samael, things tended to escalate quickly.

  “Andrey, are you feeling alright?” came Alexandra’s concerned voice. To her credit, she kept the alarm out of it. Her English was calm and eerily controlled. “I could come up for a little while, if you wanted. I am not doing anything important. How about I bring some chocolates?”

  Andrey pulled his costume from the wardrobe. The white and gold fabric had a familiar feel to it, and his fingers traced the golden rays that extended from the chest piece as he considered his response. This costume was meant to be worn by a true hero, not a political puppet. He didn’t know who he was right that moment, but he knew that hero, rogue, and villain were simply labels handed out by the UNEOA’s threat assessment bureau. Labels didn’t change who a person was at their core. All Evolved were human, often flawed and conflicted. The labels attached to them could change. He could change.

  “Do you believe in me, Alexa?” he asked.

  There were a few seconds of silence. His melancholy probably took her by surprise, as though she expected to soothe one of his angry flare-ups.

  “What an odd question.” She spoke in her Athena voice, a touch too professional and controlled. Didn’t she know what he really needed right now was Alexa, the sweet young woman he met eighteen months ago before things had gotten so screwed up?

  “I want to know. Do you believe in me?” he pressed.

  “Of course, I believe in you,” came an automatic sounding reply. “Now please unlock your door so we can talk this through.”

  He realized then he wanted to see her. He wanted to feel her soft curls between his fingers and look into her dark eyes. But knowing her, she would turn all psychotherapist on him before long.

  “You could unlock the door if you wanted to, Athena.”

  They both knew that because she had developed the security system for the whole UNEOA tower. She had full access to every nook and cranny. If she absolutely wanted to storm into his room, she could. The fact that she didn’t spoke volumes; perhaps she had doubts of her own.

  She sighed in response, distorted by the intercom. “I respect your space, Andrey, but I also know when you n
eed to talk. Believe it or not, I can relate to how you are feeling.”

  No, you can’t. You weren’t there. You didn’t look into her eyes. Andrey could have asked one of his teammates to do the job. He knew all too well how much Samael had wanted to go, but Shanti had deserved better. Someone who spoke to her, someone who would listen to her. Someone who cared about her. The memory of her last moments pushed him to this irreversible decision. He would face many risks, he knew, and his family would lose the benefits of the UNEOA’s maximum security protection. He was fully aware of the threat villains posed to hero relatives.

  My family’s safety is my responsibility now, Andrey thought.

  He fingered the green and gold UNEOA armband on the sleeve of his costume before ripping it off with a tug. Somewhere above the camera buzzed faintly, following his every move, but he changed anyway. He and Alexandra had shared a bed too often for him to be bashful about undressing in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Reinventing myself,” he said.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” she said in an appeasing tone he knew only too well. “You followed the orders that came from the top. Her powers—”

  “Went off the charts, yes,” he interrupted wearily. “Over a mile radius. They passed through any barrier. Plants, people, animals, soil. I’ve seen the reports, Alexa,” he finished, his tone gentle.

  She didn’t respond right away. Maybe she was convincing herself of the UNEOA’s stance. He’d certainly done the same in the days after Shanti’s execution order, he just hadn’t been very successful.

  “Tell me that you really believe that she would have ended the world by healing it,” he said.

  “We will never know,” she answered softly. Her voice became firm. “The rules are there for a reason. We have to trust the scientists, and they had predicted mutations and aftereffects. We have both seen the data, Andrey. The feedback theory cannot be denied.”

  “So we had to kill her?”

  “After her surge, Shadowslasher and Monsoon surged in quick succession,” Alexandra reminded him with a lover’s patience. “The link cannot be denied. And on such a large scale, we could not take any risks.”

  Andrey was only halfheartedly listening now. He had heard the same argument often enough. His faith in science had limits, especially when the white coats dabbled in fortunetelling. He couldn’t help but to wonder if the UNEOA’s decision had been influenced by villain schemes. Villains thrived on chaos. That was a fact, not a cliché.

  He pulled his helmet onto his head. The face piece, with its small winged adornments, covered the upper half of his face. A dark-tinted visor protected his eyes from the blinding radiance of his own power. Like Samael, part of Andrey’s powers included exceptional mobility, which could be considered a blessing as well as a curse. They could both travel between locations at hypersonic speeds. However, Samael was an Evoker, while Andrey had access to Lightshaper powers. Their abilities were both powerful and dangerous, which meant that they had to remain under strict supervision at all times. It didn’t help that they had both been listed among the top three individuals to be considered an apocalyptic threat if their powers surged. Only the Sleepwalker ranked above them on that list.

  He suspected the perceived threat levels of Samael and himself were the main reason that they had been invited to the Covenant. Cameras, regular psychological checks, and the UNEOA’s promise to watch over their families, had been part of their hero lives as much as the villain hunts.

  “I’m worried about the people, Alexandra.” Andrey directed his visor at the camera as he spoke. “You and I both know how this could escalate. I think I know how I can fix things, but they won’t even let me try. I’m a figurehead, nothing more. The idea behind the Covenant, the one you and I used to believe in, is dead.”

  As he crossed the bedroom to the balcony door, he caught sight of his reflection in the sliding glass doors.

  Radiant stared back at him.

  “Whatever you are planning to do … Andrey, please reconsider.” Alexandra’s next words sounded pained. “If you turn rogue and they decide to come after you, I do not think I can hold them back.”

  He knew there was something she wasn’t saying: that she wouldn’t be able to provide much in the way of support without incriminating herself. He was calling her loyalties into question, her loyalty to him and to the Covenant.

  He hesitated, his gloved hand resting on the sliding glass door handle. He was aware that rogues weren’t considered acceptable anymore. Samael would jump at the chance to subdue him. But Andrey had brooded over this decision for days. He was a man who stuck to his beliefs, and he didn’t believe in this supervised life anymore.

  “Andrey. Did you hear me?” It wasn’t a question.

  He felt a pang of guilt for making Alexandra worry. Of all the women who were currently part of his life, she was the one he respected the most. He knew she would manage.

  “I’ll be in touch through my helmet,” Radiant said. “As long as Iris provides the actual support, they can’t convict you for maintaining contact with a former teammate.”

  “Is that all I am to you now? A former teammate?”

  Instead of answering, he stepped out into the night and threw himself over the railing. He noted how the cool air rushed past him as he plummeted alongside the UNEOA skyscraper’s glass façade. The sea of lights below drew nearer as he plunged into the darkness. For a moment, a weaker part of him toyed with the idea of letting gravity have its way.

  His mind’s eye confronted him with Shanti’s beautiful brown-skinned face, her graceful movements and the bells that had chimed about her ankles. Her soft voice with its heavy Indian-accented English replayed in his mind for the millionth time.

  I forgive you. But please, protect the people.

  Radiant’s power flared with a brilliant burst of light, illuminating every window on the skyscraper’s facade, steadying him in the air halfway between the Covenant’s penthouse hero suites and the streetlights that dotted the ground below. His luminescence extended out into the shape of angel wings, each spanning twelve feet in length. He had defined their shape, along with his Evolved identity, one and a half years ago. Back when he thought people would love him for saving the world.

  A thought passed through his mind as he hung upside down in the night air, a shining beacon in the dark sky. I have to be the hero who cares for humanity, because no one else will.

  But first, he needed to go home. Radiant’s power flared once more, carrying him halfway across the globe in a flash of light.

  3.2 Radiant

  Trubino, Russia

  Thursday, the 7th of June, 2012

  6:54 p.m.

  Andrey walked up the narrow path to his family home as a returning son rather than as a hero. He had grabbed a regular civilian suit from his apartment in Moscow, and was relieved when he found it still fit over his skintight costume. His body shape had changed since the last time he had worn civilian attire in his home country. The version of himself who left for New York eighteen months ago was not nearly as fit.

  Even though he had invested a couple of hours to make himself presentable, he didn't feel prepared for his return home. He had showered, made a few phone calls, and shopped for flowers. He had even managed to get a few hours of sleep, but not nearly enough for the deep lines of exhaustion to fade from his face. He hoped his mother wouldn’t notice.

  Andrey couldn’t be sure what kind of reception he would receive from his family. His life had been complicated for the past year and a half, and family obligations had not fit into a Covenant hero’s schedule. As the months passed, the small town he had grown up in had become more and more distant in his mind. Maybe he had grown so used to being Radiant that Andrey Luvkov had faded. Now that he had left the Covenant behind, however, he was returning home empty. He was a blank slate, but neglected family ties weren’t the only thing drawing him home. He had to return. Had to figure out
who he was.

  Remembering something, Andrey stopped midway up the narrow path which wound its way across the front yard of the dwelling his mother now used as a summer cottage. He reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a silver chain with a small cross attached. The sight of it did not stir any emotions in him. After a moment of consideration, he fastened the chain around his neck.

  Andrey lost his faith years ago, but he knew that the simple act of wearing the cross would placate his mother.

  The small two-story dacha looked just the way he remembered it: dark brown wooden siding with a cheery blue door and matching window frames. Surrounding the modest dwelling was an expansive cottage garden. Next to the back shed was some construction debris that had been there since before his father had died. His brother Stepan’s car was parked on the grassy field beside the path. Its steely paint served as camouflage for his mother’s old gray cat, which he only spotted when she leaped down from the hood to slink to the visitor.

  “Hello, Mila,” he said, speaking in his native language for only the second time in many months. The first had been when he’d called his brother earlier that day. He crouched down and extended a hand to give Mila a chance to remember him.

  The cat glared at him, then sniffed the bouquet of daffodils he held before she stalked off.

  Just as he wondered whether the costume had changed his scent too much for the cat to recognize him anymore, a boy’s voice called from the doorway in cheerful Russian.

  “Uncle Andrey!”

  Andrey straightened with a smile as he spotted his nephew on the doorstep. Denis had grown several inches since the last time he had seen him. He must be eight or nine years old by now—a gangly brown-haired kid whose long limbs made him look like a baby giraffe. The boy waved before slipping back inside to announce his uncle’s arrival to the rest of the family.

  As he followed the path the rest of the way to the house, Andrey felt a touch of nostalgia. He remembered the day he and Natalya had attended Denis’s baptism together, their fingers entwined in a silent promise. Their life together had been too short to grant her wish for children.