by Matt Adams
I close my eyes.
The rift.
To my right, the Bluestreaks. To my left, the Crimsonstreaks.
“We were moving so fast that it felt like I was split between worlds.” Another thought occurs, but I can’t bring myself to voice it. Warren notices.
“You’re holding something back,” he says, reaching for another protein bar. He acts like he’s going to toss it, but he doesn’t.
The next words tumble out with all the grace of Mr. Bean at a Cirque de Soleil performance. “I saw Morty. I mean, I heard Morty. Again. Clear as day. Like he was standing next to me. ‘When the Five come together, you must help them. You can defeat the Bluestreak.’”
“This again?” the Comet says. “We’ve been over this. Morty’s dead.”
“My mother was dead. She came back,” I remind him.
“That’s different,” the Comet insists. “Your father broke the rules of space and time—”
“Maybe Morty did the same thing,” Warren says, hopeful. “Maybe he did have one last great escape in him.”
“Son, that’s… that’s a fantasy.”
The comment snaps Warren back to reality.
In honor of the dearly departed Mortimer P. Willoughby, I give the Comets my best Michael Gough. “Young Warren, you have been spending too much time with that horrid Crimsonstreak character. I have no intention of spending my remaining years mourning over my own death.”
“You know your British accent is terrible, right? Always has been,” Warren snaps. He’s smiling just a little bit, though.
“‘You must defeat the Bluestreak.’ What does that mean?” the Comet asks, rubbing his chin with his good hand.
“Obviously, I’m supposed to outrace Speedy Smurf. As a matter of fact, just when I was getting ready to catch up and pass him, Morty told me to slow down. He said something about it not being the right time.”
“Who are ‘the Five?’” Warren asks.
“I don’t know. Do you guys think my father’s computer could figure this out?”
“That thing couldn’t beat an Intellivision at Connect Four,” Warren says, gesturing toward his father. “I wish Dad would let me take a hack at programming it. You know it uses MapQuest? Did you further know that no one uses MapQuest these days? How did your father go so wrong?”
“And here I thought he upgraded to Google Maps.”
Warren holds up a hand. “That’s not the only problem with this place. Most of the tech is outmoded. I’m sure you noticed the big screen was a giant CRT unit?”
As a matter of fact, I hadn’t. Sometimes, Warren’s tech-geekery gets the best of him.
“The size is a dead giveaway. And the viewing angle is terrible. If you’re not staring at it straight-on, the picture fades.”
The Comet clears his throat, forestalling any more blatant geekery. “This is the second time you’ve claimed to hear Mortimer. I wish we could get Medical to scan you.”
“It wasn’t an illusion,” I insist. “Mortilmer P. Willoughby was talking directly to me.”
“Maybe it wasn’t our Mortimer P. Willoughby,” Warren says. “There’s precedent. The evil Miss Lightspeed. The other Chaos.”
“I’d prefer that explanation to delusions,” the Comet agrees.
“Maybe it is just wishful thinking,” Warren adds. “Someone leaves you and you’d do anything to see them again...” He tries to keep steady, but his voice wavers.
I know the feeling, kid.
“I always thought we should’ve tried the Pet Sematary thing with Morty. Probably would’ve improved his disposition,” I say. The joke should be inappropriate, but something about it feels right.
A weak smile spreads across Warren’s lips. “He would’ve stabbed you with a kitchen knife.”
The elder Comet sighs in frustration at our latest tangent. “I’d still like to know who ‘the Five’ are. You think it’s a superhero team?”
“I don’t know what it means,” I confess. “I don’t think he had enough time to explain.”
“I just hope it ‘clicks’ at the right time,” Warren says.
Me too, guys.
Me too.
Orange Crushed
“Aegis has released a list of Colonel Chaos’s co-conspirators,” the voice coming from the TV says. “Notables include Chaos’s wife Miss Lightspeed, a.k.a. Karen Jo Fairborne; his son, Crimsonstreak, a.k.a. Christopher Gregory Fairborne; the Crusading Comet; and Jaci Graves, a former Common Wealth Enforcer. Aegis tells CNN these individuals were instrumental in keeping the New World Common Wealth alive.
“Newly released documents show Chaos and the Crusading Comet had a secret agreement to foment a ‘faux rebellion’ to unify the people of the NWCW against our benevolent alien visitors. Anyone with information on the whereabouts of these individuals should come forward immediately. Aegis is offering a large cash reward. There are many more individuals being sought. You’ll find a complete list and photo gallery on our website.”
The head of every member of the Champions of Justice turns in the direction of Warren III, Warren IV, Jaci, my mother, and me. I can practically see dollar signs in their eyes, Tex Avery-style.
Falcon Gray notices too, letting out a plaintive squawk. Warren and his father take defensive positions in front of us.
Sapphire Twelve’s eyes narrow. “Any Champion even contemplating turning these heroes over to the Kiltechs should leave right now,” she says. One of the Champions, a sturdy-looking guy in full Enforcer armor, rises and starts toward the exit. Sapphire Twelve conjures a wave of blue energy that sends the man flying into a wall. “Hmph. You will fall in line, Champions. We will follow the Son of Chaos.”
Miss Lightspeed floats over and lands in front of the Champions’ leader. “That is not how we deal with disagreements,” she says as the injured COJ member groans in pain.
“Not every disagreement wraps up tidily with a peace treaty and international cocktail hour,” Sapphire Twelve retorts.
“I see the look on your face, the thrill.” Miss Lightspeed says. “How do you expect anyone to truly follow you?”
“Do you see anyone else getting up to leave?” Sapphire Twelve says, gesturing toward the members of her group. “Perhaps next time I should let someone leave so they can turn us all in. Would the mighty Miss Lightspeed enjoy a stay in a Kiltech cell?”
“We can’t stay here forever,” my mother replies. “We’ll have to fight them someday.”
Sapphire Twelve stands nose-to-nose with her. “If that’s the case, my dear, you should engage them on your terms, not theirs. I’m sorry we’re not noble and upright like the Heroic Legion. How is Samson Knight doing these days? Do you think the Kiltechs have turned him yet? Or was he already working with them?”
“Samson Knight has his flaws,” my mother concedes. “But I refuse to believe he would ever willingly ally himself with the enemy.”
Sapphire Twelve’s smile is devilish. “He would never lie about anything, would he?”
Before this escalates any further, Crimsonspeed places me between them. “Nobody likes anybody. I get it,” I say, pushing them apart. They’re both stronger than me, but they let me separate them. “If we’re gonna act like this, it won’t take long for the Kiltechs to ice us.”
“We can’t trust these people, Chris,” my mother says.
My first inclination is to point out that I can’t trust my mother, either, but I suppress that impulse. “After all these years, no one’s learned anything, have they? We’re all after the same thing here—protecting the planet, protecting the people. Sapphire Twelve, I heard what happened to you during our first go-round with the Kiltechs. You spent four months in orbit waiting for them to come back. They never did. The Champions of Justice finally convinced you to return to Earth.”
“That was after the so-called ‘Heroic Legion’ banished me to a maximum-security facility,” she says. “Heroes are not to be trusted.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute,” I tell her. “You m
ay have been disappointed in the Heroic Legion—hell, I don’t what they’re doing most days—but they are entirely committed to keeping Earth safe. They need us now. They need you. Have a problem with the Legion? Want to make some changes? Imagine the pull you’ll have when the COJ saves their ass.”
Sapphire Twelve’s expression brightens. “Perhaps they’ll permit me to serve on the council.”
“Maybe,” I say, looking over at my mother, who’s none too pleased with this line of thinking. The diplomat in her must be telling her to stow it, though, because she doesn’t say a word. “You have a bone to pick with Samson Knight? That’ll be your chance.”
Sapphire Twelve swallows. “And what would Miss Lightspeed say about such a thing?”
Half of me expects vintage Super Diplomats Corp Mom; the other half fully anticipates that Miss Lightspeed will move to throttle Sapphire Twelve.
“The Legion welcomes all voices,” she says. The words sound a little begrudging, but they’ll do.
Phew.
“I’m glad we’ve reached an accord,” the Comet says. “But we can’t stay here much longer, at least not all of us. We don’t have much food stored, especially considering the rate at which Chris is eating protein bars. It already felt crammed when it was just six of us. Now that the Champions have arrived, we’re dealing with a couple dozen people. We’ve got space concerns. Where is everyone going to bunk? How do we feed them? The generator’s running, but water service is erratic, to say the least. The last thing I want is to be stuck down here with fifty people who have to shower on a three-day rotation.”
Not to mention one of them would smell like a wet bird.
“So this is it? We come to an accord and now you’re ready to kick the Champions to the curb?” Sapphire Twelve huffs. “By now, the Kiltechs have branded us all as Chaos’s co-conspirators.”
“We’re not trying to kick you out,” I insist. “And it can’t be that bad topside. Look, it isn’t the New World Common Wealth up there. Not yet. They don’t have the Enforcer infrastructure in place. The possibility also remains that not everyone is buying this Aegis crap. Just because the TV and media people are serving it up, doesn’t mean everyone is eating it. I think, as long as we’re careful, that we can move around without attracting too much attention.”
“How do you want to play this?” the Comet asks. He looks over at the Champions who got socked by the Kitechs’ power-zapping rays. “I’m not sure all of us are at full capacity.”
“They are healing,” Sapphire Twelve says. “I hope they regain their strength soon.”
“We’ll have to stay in small groups,” Warren says. “Splitting everyone into teams of five makes it easy,” Warren says. “I’ll take Dad, Crimsonstreak, Miss Lightspeed, and Jaci.”
Falcon Gray, left out of Warren’s dodgeball picks, screeches in annoyance.
“It’s nothing personal, Falcon Gray,” Warren insists. He scratches the birdman’s neck to soothe him.
“I’m not going with you,” the Comet says. “Someone has to stay here and monitor Kiltech activity.” He gestures toward Sapphire Twelve. “I can coordinate with the Champions as well.”
“We need you out in the field,” Warren protests. “We need the Crusading Comet.”
“Look at the reality, son. You are the Crusading Comet, for better or worse.” Warren’s dad removes his mask. “You may lack my savvy and experience, but you’re well trained. I’ll only slow you down, even if Falcon Gray carries me the whole way.”
“I would do it. Without hesitation,” Falcon Gray crows, pounding his chest with a hand-wing.
“Sapphire Twelve, divide your people,” my mother orders. “When you’re finished, we’ll discuss strategy.”
“As you wish, Miss Lightspeed,” Sapphire Twelve says with a surprisingly deferential bow. “I would also like to be a part of the command team.” She turns toward Warren, expecting an answer.
Instinctively, the kid spins toward his father.
“The Crusading Comet needs not look to anyone for answers,” Sapphire Twelve says, standing straighter.
“Think about it, kid,” I urge. “The Champions are our partners now.”
“I said the Crusading Comet needs not look to others for answers,” Sapphire Twelve repeats.
Warren’s gaze jumps from me to Sapphire Twelve. “You want to be part of the command team? Sure, go ahead. Just don’t get us killed.”
“It will be okay, Comet Junior,” Jaci soothes. “We have to work together to get through this. They have resources we shouldn’t waste.”
A comment from Jaci usually placates Warren, who hasn’t realized yet that she’s more like a big sister and less like a super-hot stepsister. He’s not Greg Brady and she’s not Marcia.
Warren wags a finger at Sapphire Twelve. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“The way I see it, we have the Champions hit these goodwill flights,” the Comet says, standing before the insanely large monitor in my father’s lab. “It’s a high priority mission. “
“It is?” I ask.
The Comet points a clicker toward the screen, which comes to life with a TV newscast. “I caught this about an hour ago. It’s... illuminating.”
The news clip shows people standing in long lines at several different locations—Yankee Stadium, Wrigley Field, and Lucas Oil Stadium. The news anchor is kind enough to tell us what’s going on. “Officials from Aegis are accepting walk-up applications for goodwill ambassadors. The visitors tell us that ambassadors are granted access to their ships, where they can undergo medical evaluation. They are open to all residents, though Aegis places a special emphasis on sick individuals. A goodwill ambassador can expect a two-week stay and a thorough medical evaluation,” the woman says. “Those who volunteer are guaranteed a clean bill of health and a longer lifespan. As you can see by the lines around the country, the offer is proving irresistible to all of us. And it’s easy to join…”
“So they’re taking visitors. Big deal,” Warren says.
“It doesn’t seem so bad to me,” one of the Champions says. “I’ve got a brother with a gimpy leg. He’d love to have it healed.”
“Would he, now?” the Comet asks, pressing the clicker again. A screen capture from an internet message board appears on the monitor. “This is a message posted in an anonymous forum. The user says his or her mother became a goodwill ambassador three weeks ago and never came home. She’s warning others that it’s a scam.”
“You get all kinds of crazy stuff on the internet,” Warren points out. “You can’t believe anything anyone says.”
The Comet nods. “That’s true. The internet is full of lies and people who tell them. But if this comment is untrue, can you tell me why Aegis scrubbed it from the server?” He clicks the remote again. “This is another message from a person who says a loved one volunteered as a goodwill ambassador and never returned. It has also been scrubbed from the internet. There are dozens upon dozens of these messages.”
“How did you come across these?” Jaci asks. “Especially if the Kiltechs have erased them from the internet?”
“Nothing ever dies on the internet,” he explains. “You can find a lot of cached information if you know where to look. The Kiltechs haven’t figured that out yet—they’re not familiar enough with the system. So they think they’re erasing information, but some of it is sticking around. They’re still doing what they can to control the flow of information. It’s similar to what Colonel Chaos did when the New World Common Wealth was in full swing.”
“I guess they learned from the best,” I say. “But what does this mean?”
“It means something is happening to those goodwill ambassadors that the Kiltechs don’t want people to know. Clearly, they’re hoping more people sign up. Judging by the long lines of applicants, it’s working. I think this calls for a little disruption.”
“That will certainly get their attention,” Jaci says. “How do you propose we do it?”
“I’ve ide
ntified different cities where the Kiltechs have set up launch points for their shuttles. Most of them are in large public places like sports stadiums. They are constantly launching these things and hoping to get as many people as they can.”
“So we just show up at these locations and start boarding flights?” Sapphire Twelve asks.
“We have plenty of flight-powered heroes—and you say the Champions are starting to regenerate their powers. So I think that’s what your people should focus on,” the Comet explains. “Once they’re operating at full power.”
“That’ll get some unwanted attention,” I blurt out.
“You won’t be part of that mission, Crimsonstreak,” the Comet says. “We need you to track down the Bluestreak to figure out what part he plays in all of this. And I need your mother to contact a member of the provisional government to see if we can turn this thing around on Aegis. Miss Lightspeed, is there anyone you trust?”
My mother nods. “Ariana Glover, chairwoman of the provisional council. She’s friendly to the Heroic Legion, though I don’t know her whereabouts.”
The Comet sets aside his remote and taps out a series of keystrokes. “It doesn’t appear she’s been imprisoned,” he says. “According to this article from two days ago, she’s still part of the provisional government.”
I hear a familiar sound—the warning klaxon from my father’s lab. Thanks to his experiments and various kidnapping attempts, it went off quite a bit when I was a kid.
“Dammit!” the Comet shouts. His one-handed typing becomes more frantic. “Those clever little aliens. They tracked my activity on their server and traced it back. I guess they learn quickly. We’ve gotta move. Now.”
Crimsonspeed brings me quickly to the surface. I don’t see much of anything. I take a cautious step, and something feels off.
Freaking Kiltechs.
“I think they’re here,” I yell into my comm. “We need to get the Champions out of here as quickly as possible, especially the ones who are in no shape to fight.”
“Affirmative,” the Comet replies. Seconds later, members of the Champions of Justice emerge from the entrance. Several take off flying.