II Crimsonstreak

by Matt Adams

  On cue, several dark, armored forms shimmer into view, rippling like formless splotches of oil before taking humanoid form. “Pay no attention to them,” a synthesized voice says. “Focus on the Crimsonstreak.”

  Kilgore.

  The Champions continue to try to get away, and I buy them some time by charging at the alien leader at Crimsonspeed. Instead of slamming into him, though, I shoot right through him.

  “If you surrender now, we will allow your companions to live,” he bellows. The mask covering the lower half of his face has been repaired, though not particularly well.

  “Digging the new Hannibal Lecter plate,” I say, raising my arms. “I do love a good surrender.”

  It’s the universal gesture for “I give up,” but the Kiltechs proceed with caution—and rightfully so, since a Comet Star soon whacks Kilgore in the back of the head. The Kiltech soldiers turn toward Warren, who launches a few more of the projectiles. They don’t get far, thanks to multiple blasts from Kiltech rifles.

  “You should’ve gotten away with the Champions,” I tell him. “I don’t think you want to be here.”

  “Did you really think I’d let you have all the fun?” the kid asks, sidling next to me and holding his hands up, too.

  “You know we’d never abandon you,” a voice comes from above. Jaci lands and grabs me by the waist. I imagine she intends to get me out of here. If Warren weren’t here, I wouldn’t argue.

  “We can’t leave the kid behind. Let’s sit tight,” I urge her. Turning back to Kilgore, I say, “Listen, I don’t know what people have been telling you, but I had nothing to do with that whole New World Common Wealth thing. I didn’t even know you guys dropped by to visit until I got out of prison.”

  Kilgore looks at a minion to his left. “Conniving. Like his father.”With that, he slaps a button on his chest and projects a full-color hologram purporting to show a shipboard battle involving Colonel Chaos, his allies, and me. In the footage, I’m running around with admirable speed and knocking Kiltech soldiers on their backs as some of the energy-based heroes blast away.

  “You were responsible for helping your father scuttle our main battleship,” Kilgore says, anger in his voice.

  I can’t blame the guy, really. I’m kicking their tails all over the ship. I’m particularly proud of a figure-eight maneuver that downs about twenty Kiltechs at the same time. My smugness lasts only a second; something isn’t quite right about the transmission. A brief close-up shows Colonel Chaos with a full beard.

  Dad never wore a beard. Neither did his doppelganger.

  To make matters worse, two Crusading Comets are trying to hold off a group of Kiltech soldiers while planting an explosive.

  “I was never aboard a Kiltech ship,” Warren says. “Dad made Morty and me stay at the penthouse. Morty got to leave a few times, but I was definitely stuck there.”

  Kilgore points at Warren. “You will be silent.”

  The hologram flashes forward—it looks like Kilgore’s using the Kiltech version of a DVR—and we see two Crusading Comets standing near the exit of the ship. The rest of the heroes file out, but the Comets are discussing something. Both gesture emphatically and point at the apparent explosive they’ve just planted. The Comet to the left taps the detonator and then grabs the other Comet by the arm.

  They go off-screen and then the transmission ends.

  A Kiltech blackbox.

  “You—both of you—are fully capable of disrupting our operations, as past histories have shown. We will not allow it to transpire in this reality,” Kilgore says firmly.

  Now I get it.

  The Kiltechs aren’t just alien invaders. They can travel between realities, and they’re really, really pissed off at my entire family. As Jaci continues to grasp me around the waist and Warren holds his hands up, I wonder what’s keeping the Kiltechs from blasting all of us into oblivion.

  A flash of orange and they’re gone.

  We no longer stand on the dead, ash-covered grass outside my father’s lab. We’re somewhere else now. The floor is cold and metal and shiny; it rumbles, the vibration tickling my innards. It’s not as fun as it sounds. A giant window looms ahead, giving me a view of an infinite sea of stars. Jaci’s arms finally leave my waist. Warren puts his hands down.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a measured, Ivy League voice says from behind us.

  We spin in unison to see Commander Klem floating a few inches above the deck.

  “So you did see an Eighties rock star with a headband,” Warren says.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, kid,” I say, pointing toward the Orange Band. “I take it this is your ship?”

  He nods. “It belongs to the Bands.”

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “When are we?” Warren asks.

  “How did we get here?” Jaci wonders.

  “All fair questions,” he says, floating down to touch the floor. “The Kiltechs’ plan is now clear. I took the liberty of saving the rest of your group, by the way. The boy’s father, the two other ladies, and the lost birdman from Aviary XII.”

  “Say hi to Klem, everybody,” I say. “He… uh… ran into the High Imperator a few years back.” A thought occurs to me—Klem seems a little too in charge up here. “I thought you said you were a scout?”

  “I came to this planet as a scout. Now I have operational control. My colleagues believe I am currently best suited to handle this grievous breach in the space-time continuum.”

  Warren shrugs. “So, what, you’re a time traveler?”

  Klem shakes his head, an irritatingly self-assured smile on his face. “I’m sorry, I’ve mispoken. ‘Space-time continuum’ isn’t quite the right term. It would be more correct to call it a breach of interdimensional etiquette.”

  Yeah, that really clears things up.

  “The Kiltechs, too, are interdimensional beings, but they are trapped in this particular version of your universe. They believe they have to stop a greater threat. As such, they are seeking allies, sometimes forcefully. In the case of your planet, the Kiltechs found your civilization was unfit for service. They wish to… change that.”

  “Allies? They think sending an invasion force will gain them allies?” I say, scoffing with every word. “Obviously, they have different social mores. You don’t happen to have a handbook for this, do you? Emily Post’s Guide to Multiverse Manners?”

  “In most other cases, they have been more accommodating toward their potential allies,” Klem admits. “Your world is a special case. It is the center of everything. Thus, they have decided to force the issue.”

  “You know, a guy named Ptolemy thought Earth was the center of the universe. Turns out he was wrong,” I say. “We’ve got a big enough mess to clean up as it is.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Not right away. The Kiltechs believe they need to speed up the evolution of human kind. They see greatness locked away in your genetic code. This greatness grants you special skills, such as the ability to manipulate time and space as you do, Crimsonstreak.”

  “I’m a super-speedster,” I remind him. “I can run fast. That’s about it.”

  Klem waves his hand dismissively. “If you must think of it in your simplistic terms, so be it.”

  I kinda wanna punch the guy, especially since this particular gym class reject is sporting a quasi-mullet. In the interest of transdimensional diplomacy, I restrain myself. I hope Jaci’s proud.

  “The Kiltechs hope to give your people an evolutionary burst that will make them a vital fighting force in what is to come.”

  “Can I get in on that?” Warren asks.

  I elbow him in the ribs. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Warren doesn’t even bother to rub his side; his Comet Armor kept him from feeling it. “It would be nice to be able to throw a car at someone on occasion, you know. You supers don’t know how good you’ve got it.”

  “I don’t know,” Jaci says, “Sometimes I think it’d be nice to be able to le
ave it all behind. You know, take off the uniform at the end of the day so you feel like you’re going back to normal.”

  Klem cocks an eyebrow. “So far, the Kiltechs’ methods for improving your species have proved … ineffective.” With this, Orange Band claps his hands; a stark, white laboratory replaces the big window and deckplates. “The Kiltechs can’t see you right now. This is a Kiltech ‘clean room,’ a place where they perform genetic experiments.”

  A door slides open and we see a normal-looking woman strapped into a futuristic dentist’s chair. “This is Henrietta Davies. There is nothing particularly extraordinary about her from a physiological standpoint, yet the Kiltechs insist on ‘improving’ her.”

  As if to emphasize Orange Band’s point—the bastard seems to enjoy this in a “Q-ish” sort of way—a Kiltech injects the woman with a neon-blue serum.

  Ms. Davies’s muscles and body expand…

  Before she explodes in a gooey mess of organs and flesh.

  “That’s horrible,” Jaci says, covering her mouth.

  “They have performed thousands of these experiments since returning to your planet,” Klem goes on. “The Kiltechs have not succeeded in bludgeoning the human race into a higher plane of existence.”

  Another orange flash.

  Klem, Warren, Jaci, and I stand in another white room, this one devoid of any dentist’s chairs, beakers, flasks, or syringes. A device resembling the Comet Accelerator spins in the middle of the room.

  “Since speeding up evolution isn’t working, the Kiltechs have decided to cheat. This is an interdimensional relay center, a device capable of transporting a person between parallel worlds.”

  Two techs enter the room—and they’re remarkably familiar.

  Colonel Chaos and Colonel Chaos.

  “Wait a second. My dad’s working with them?” I ask.

  “He’s doing what he must,” Klem explains. “When the Kiltechs invaded your Heroic Legion, they took custody of your father. Apparently, one Colonel Chaos wasn’t enough for them.”

  “Why do they need them?” Jaci asks. “What do they have to do with the human improvement project?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Klem says. “The Kiltechs realize their genetic experiments aren’t working. They’ve formulated a ‘Plan B’ involving interdimensional transportation. You see, Crimsonstreak’s father had constructed such a device. So had his interdimensional companion. The Kiltechs, no strangers to such transports themselves, are using them to fine-tune their device for human use. They want to expand their interdimensional gateway so that infinite realities overlap.”

  The Orange Band looks at us with great significance, as if the words coming out of his mouth are the end all, be all of everything. It doesn’t compute.

  Irritated, Klem folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, to work with higher minds. They have a twin purpose for this. Firstly, the Kiltechs believe that opening a gateway will allow them to return to their home universe. They’re tired of being stranded here. Secondly, they’re hoping that crisscrossing the realities will provide them with an unlimited army of super-powered beings from infinite Earths.”

  “What about the rest of humanity?” Warrens asks.

  “I would imagine they’ll get caught in the crossfire,” Klem suggests. “What do you call it? Ah yes… collateral damage.”

  “This is worse than a retcon,” I say, willing myself to ignore the obvious joke in the face of a serious threat. “They’ll erase all history. Kill an infinite number of innocent people.”

  Jaci gasps, then collects herself. “We are so not letting that happen.”

  “The Kiltechs see the two Chaoses together and believe multiple iterations of the same person can coexist,” Klem says. “They cannot—not indefinitely. As more and more people are added to the same plane of existence, the universe becomes unstable.”

  Our blank stares serve only to send our new friend into an Alan Rickman-esque huff.

  “What it means is that the catastrophic loss of life combined with the infinite versions of heroes will result in the extinction of the human race. Moreover, it could very well result in the destruction of all universes.”

  “Where do we come in?” I ask.

  “I am attempting to incentivize this for humanity. We don’t particularly care what happens to the human race as a whole. There are plenty of futures in which humanity has destroyed itself without any ill effects upon the universe. However, the destruction of Earth and its infinite brethren simultaneously across all the planes would have a catastrophic effect, creating a cosmic imbalance. The Orange Bands believe this imbalance would be enough to destroy everything, that the universe would simply be no more.”

  I’m about to open my mouth, but Warren clears his throat and beats me to the punch. “So... the Kiltech plan would have the same net effect as the enemy they’re trying to contain?”

  “Insightful analysis. Perhaps there is hope for humanity after all,” the Orange Band says, laying it on thick with the condescension.

  “If you can transport us around and keep the Kiltechs from sensing us, why don’t we just go and destroy that big universe-hopping machine right now?” Jaci wonders.

  Good question, because I was thinking it, too.

  “I did not transport you physically,” Orange Band explains. “In your terms, I turned us into holograms and gave us virtual access to the Kiltechs’ restricted areas. Were I to actually transport us to the location in question, the enemy would discover us. Quickly, too.”

  “It would be nice to get a little help,” I tell him, shaking my head.

  “We are more watchers than warriors. More guardians than fighters,” he intones.

  “Yet you could probably destroy our planet with Rambo’s headband,” I say. “If you’re on the sidelines, it’s because you want to be.”

  “The Orange Bands do not stand on the sidelines. I must remind you it is an expansive universe out there, full of threats your two-dimensional minds cannot comprehend. Thousands of Bands are engaged in thousands of operations throughout the known universe. Some are exploring the unknown universes. Assembling all those resources to help Earth will take some time. That is something you do not have.”

  Warren casts a sideways gaze at me before speaking again. “What do you mean? We’re already out of time?”

  “Not already. Almost,” Orange Band says. “The Kiltechs have been experimenting on normal humans for quite some time.”

  “That explains all those ‘alien abductions’ you see in the tabloids,” I tell Warren.

  “The Kiltechs are not ones to let their experiments survive,” Klem explains. “The ‘close encounters’ you speak of are, overwhelmingly, the work of the Shon-Khan-Rhee, a mischievous band of extraterrestrials who enjoy imprinting their silly culture on other worlds.”

  Warren and I both gape at him.

  “You can choose not to believe me,” Klem says. “You will find ‘little green men’ and stories of ‘abduction’ in many cultures across the cosmos. The Shon-Khan-Rhee delight in becoming part of a society’s cultural memory. I digress, however.”

  From his headband, our host projects a beam of bright orange light that resolves into a holographic image of the Earth. Translucent green discs represent the Kiltechs.

  “The Heroic Legion headquarters is here,” he says as Washington, D.C., lights up. “The Kiltechs have taken over the facility and imprisoned members of the Legion. They are experimenting on them, still hoping to find a way to turn everyone into super-powered beings. As they’ve been trying fruitlessly for years, it is unlikely they will succeed now. Thus, their Plan B comes into play over here.”

  An orange triangle forms over the Kiltech ship positioned directly above Chicago.

  “This is the flagship of the fleet. The Kiltechs are calling it Aegis One, but their true name for it is something else entirely.” A series of unrecognizable characters floats over the ship before transforming into English. “In your tongue, the ship’s name is Invi
ncible. This is where they are forcing the twin Colonels Chaos to build their dimensional transcoder.”

  The triangular reticle turns yellow as more green triangles fly over the map to the green-tinged Kiltech ships. “Our intelligence indicates that the Kiltechs are performing more of their ‘enhancement’ experiments aboard these remaining ships. They are, with the provisional government’s apparent blessing, transporting humans to these ships for ‘goodwill tours.’ This is an obvious ruse.”

  “Warren’s father suggested the same thing before you brought us here,” Jaci says. “It looks like the Kiltechs are tring to cover up their activities.”

  “Indeed they are,” Klem confirms. “And even your Heroic Legion is powerless to stop them.”

  “Some of our allies are going after those goodwill tours,” Jaci says. “They won’t be able to disrupt all of them, but I bet they’ll get plenty of attention.”

  The Orange Band commander rubs his chin. “I see. Perhaps this would be a good time to make our way to your Heroic Legion’s headquarters.”

  “What are we going to find there?” I ask.

  “Maybe everyone’s not working with the Kiltechs yet,” Warren suggests. “We could use a little more help.”

  “I think the Legion’s out of this one,” I sigh. “We’ve got the recuperating Champions of Justice. A hobbled Crusading Comet and his son. Three powerful women and a man-bird. We need more than that. Can’t the Bands spare more resources?”

  “This is a threat to universal peace,” Jaci points out.

  Warren points at the Orange Band. “And universal existence.”

  “I am in contact with my fellow operatives,” Klem says. “Another Band and I shall accompany you on the mission.”

  “I don’t like any of this,” the Comet says. “Something isn’t right here.”

  The Comet, Warren, and I look outside one of the monstrous windows that are apparently characteristic of this ship. Or is it a ship? It could be an orbital platform. A space station. A flying diner.

  “If the Bands have as much pull as they claim—and if this was so important—they’d bring the full weight of their interstellar justice corps to bear,” the Comet continues.