West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide

by Johnson-Weider, K. M.

  “Then we need to activate our contingencies,” Ian agreed.

  They were so calm, it was ridiculous. Dr. Brandeis was worried, downright terrified, and he couldn’t help wondering why he had ever agreed to do this. But it had all been his idea. Decades ago he had submitted his first thesis for his Ph.D. in geology at the University of Florida; it was brilliant. There was an exposed area of the earth’s mantle in the Atlantic Ocean between the Cape Verde Islands and the Caribbean Sea. He postulated using explosive charges to increase the viscosity of the mantle and then use a harmonic induction wave to shape the flow of material to create a new volcanic island. He had called the island Atlantis, which was probably his big mistake. He had to do another thesis after the dean had said that they studied science, not science fiction. The man had no vision. Of course, another problem had been the harmonic induction wave itself, which he had based on reports of Vanghel technology, like the weapon that wiped out Rome during the Invasion. Still, despite the narrow-minded faculty of the geology department, Dr. Brandeis had continued working on the Plan ever since. He’d even published a fiction book titled Rising Tide that had detailed his theory. The book did poorly; the idea of a swashbuckling geologist saving the world was just a little ahead of its time. However, Ian had read the book. Ian wasn’t a scientist; he was a businessman but a businessman with vision. Ian felt the Plan was feasible.

  NASA and the UN Space Defence Force were developing a quantum harmonic resonance array, or QHRA. It was a reconstruction of the Vanghel super cannons that would be able to blast a hole through the Earth’s crust, especially at a weak fault point softened up with PGZ explosives. Ian’s team had picked a point off the coast of northern California and had a deep sea oil rig, Avalon One, stationed out there setting things up. Once they exposed the mantle, they would reconfigure the QHRA to provide an induction wave to shape and direct the lava flow and prevent it from cooling. Within 24 hours, the beginning of a new oceanic island would emerge from the Pacific Ocean, an island that would eventually grow to the size of Iceland. It would be a miracle of science and create a very valuable piece of real estate.

  There were of course a few minor problems with the Plan. First they had to steal the QHRA, which was only possible because Ian was the chairman of the board of the company currently assembling it and therefore had access to information and facilities they otherwise wouldn’t be able to easily get. Also the Plan would likely serve as a catalyst for significant tectonic activity, a euphemism for earthquakes or possibly even a tsunami. There was no way around this: it would cause a bit of collateral damage to the coast of California. They also needed a sufficient power source for the QHRA and a large number of potent deep sea charges. Then of course they needed to be able to blame someone else for the whole thing; they’d picked Dr. Wraith for that. He was some undead evil mastermind who hadn’t pulled off a heist in decades but he was a classic supervillain and the perfect scapegoat. And finally there were a lot of kinks involving securing ownership over the newly created property, which was where Governor Fields came into the equation. Ian was optimistic that all of these challenges could be overcome, but the truth was that Dr. Brandeis had begun to think the Plan wouldn’t actually work and the odds seemed even worse now that the factory had been compromised.

  “I bet this was on the news,” said Dr. Brandeis, who felt a little guilty that he didn’t read the paper or watch the news, but it was usually just depressing anyway.

  “Yes, there was a blurb and the Governor is aware of what happened,” said Ian.

  “She’s probably ballistic!” said Dr. Brandeis.

  “True. We need to deal with that,” Ian said; he had hardly stopped speaking when Governor Fields herself walked in. She was a severe-looking woman who Dr. Brandeis was afraid of because he suspected she was completely insane, though to be governor of California that was probably a necessity.

  She frowned at all of them. “I’m not happy.”

  “We have taken precautions and should be able to complete the Plan well before anyone figures out what we are up to,” said Ian.

  “Yes, we are still quite on schedule,” lied Dr. Brandeis.

  “I doubt it,” said the Governor. “Gentlemen, the Republic of California is in desperate need for this to work. It is the first step to constitutional reform and bringing this great State out of its economic troubles. This is a risk worth taking for all of us, but mistakes like this make things more difficult.”

  “We have contingencies in place,” Ian assured her. Thankfully he didn’t go on to explain exactly what those contingencies were; Dr. Brandeis knew that they involved recruiting supervillains to operate in West Pacific to keep West Pacific Supers and the WPPD occupied. The Governor might be power-hungry, but even she was unlikely to sign off on that idea.

  It was best not to give her a chance to ask questions. “We’re working to get ahead of schedule,” Dr. Brandeis lied again.

  “Perhaps you can provide some assistance on this matter, as well as tie up West Pacific Supers and the WPPD,” said Ian.

  “That’s the entire issue, isn’t it?” snapped the Governor. “Due to the damn ballot initiatives forced on California by the mindless electorate I can’t even blow my nose without running afoul of some god damn moronic restriction. The whole point of the Plan is to create an opportunity for reform.”

  “That is true,” said Ian in his sympathetic voice. “Maybe you could involve West Pacific Supers in some program to save whales or talk to elementary students.”

  “Alright,” the Governor said with another frown. “I’ll see what I can do to distract your local supers and police. But the Plan must continue moving forward. I need this to happen well before the primary.”

  “Of course,” said Dr. Brandeis. “In a month I think we’ll have a more positive report on the status of things.”

  “You’d better,” said the Governor. “I’m giving you three months to execute the Plan. After this fiasco we can’t wait any longer than that. This is a fixed deadline and the results for noncompliance will be severe.”

  “I understand, Governor,” said Ian. Governor Fields nodded, glared at Dr. Brandeis, and then left the room with Ian following, leaving Erica and Dr. Brandeis alone in the study.

  “This isn’t going to work,” muttered Dr. Brandeis.

  “Probably not, but that’s why I always get paid up front,” said Erica.

  “Most of my cut is performance-based; you know, how many acres we raise from the sea.” Dr. Brandeis felt miserable. “West Pacific Supers is going to track us down, aren’t they?”

  “Most likely but not for the next few weeks,” said Erica. “They have the Super Draft and pre-Season activities to tie them up for a while. Barring a lucky break, my guess is that they’ll probably foil the Plan in under a month.”

  “So shouldn’t we abort the Plan?” asked Dr. Brandeis.

  “Why?” Erica looked amused. “Noah, it’s not the heist but the build-up to the heist that’s where the fun is to be had. Enjoy the ride and have an escape plan. I know you’ve been paid a good amount of money upfront and if you’re smart you have that squirreled away. Plus we could always be the ones to get a lucky break.”

  “You’re awfully positive about all this,” said Dr. Brandeis glumly.

  Erica gave him a wicked smile. “The game has finally begun! The supers are on the hunt – this is when things get exciting.”

  Dr. Brandeis just shook his head. There was no doubt about it – he was surrounded by lunatics.

  Chapter 3

  11:27 a.m., Sunday, March 24th, 2013

  Hyatt Regency Milwaukee

  Milwaukee, WI

  There were three kinds of people in the world: normal humans, normal-looking mutants, and obvious mutants. Seawolf, veteran team member of West Pacific Supers and clearly an obvious mutant, was having a bad fur day.

  She stood in the bathroom of the suite she was sharing with Gabrielle Fox, the team’s public affairs director, and tried to u
ntangle the brush stuck in her neck fur. She had forgotten to pack her own brush and had to borrow Gabrielle’s and now the damn thing was stuck. If she pulled too hard, she’d end up with a bare patch, but if she didn’t hurry up, Gabrielle was going to get even more upset than she already was.

  This lunch was the only scheduled activity for the week that Seawolf had been looking forward to, but now she found herself dreading it. The only reason she’d even agreed to be part of the West Pacific Supers contingent to the Super Draft was because being in Milwaukee was preferable to being back home getting ready for the publicity-fest that was the upcoming Costume Launch. She’d been through enough of those in her 13 years on the team to know that some of the worst Costume Launches were during years in which you had a new public affairs director trying to make her mark, like Gabrielle. Gabrielle had been with the team in some staff PR capacity for a couple of years now, but once she’d finally finished her MBA night classes, she’d been promoted. This new Costume Launch was her baby - from the new European costume designer to the state-of-the-art ultimesh weave. Seawolf had heard every dull detail three times over during the flight from West Pacific to Milwaukee, complete with a nonstop display of photos on Gabrielle’s HoloBerry.

  “If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to be late.” Gabrielle, a normal human with the sort of effortless beauty that Seawolf found downright maddening, walked into the bathroom wearing a pale blue dress that hugged her every curve and perfectly accompanied her silky black hair and smooth caramel-colored skin.

  “It’s stuck,” Seawolf said, gesturing at the brush.

  Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Pull it out – break it if you have to; I’ll buy a new one. You need to speed things up. The sponsor lunch begins in 43 minutes and I sure as hell am not going to arrive late and miss the chance to snag a seat next to the Moirai Media rep.”

  “I can take my own cab,” Seawolf protested.

  “We’re sharing one so that you get there on time. Danny has the opening ceremonies tonight, which means a ton of interviews this afternoon, so you can’t take forever. And why are you wearing your old team costume?”

  “Because you said I couldn’t wear the new one.”

  “Not until the new one’s officially unveiled, true. But this is a casual lunch. Why wear a costume at all? It’s not like you have a secret identity.”

  “For casual I wear wetsuits,” snapped Seawolf. “Or would you have preferred me in lycra shorts and a rash guard top?”

  “Waverider may be your primary sponsor, but it’s taking brand loyalty a bit far to only wear swimwear.”

  “I’ve only worn swimwear for the last 20 years. Waverider just pays me to do it.”

  “Whatever.” Gabrielle’s HoloBerry rang and she stalked out of the bathroom, calling back as she left, “hurry up!”

  Seawolf yanked, pulling out the brush and a chunk of fur with it. She peered into the mirror, trying to assess the damage and make an honest appraisal of herself. Her face and neck looked normal except for the fact that they were covered with grey fur, her ears were wolf-like, and her teeth were a bit more pointed than most people’s. Pale green scales took over where the fur left off and her fingers were noticeably webbed. Her eyes were an almost pretty shade of blue-green, but that was because they were blue underneath and green when the second membrane covered them, which was certainly not normal. She sighed. Even on a good fur day, she still looked like a freak.

  She pressed some fur down to cover the small bald spot on her neck, straightened her costume, and reluctantly walked out into the living room, where Gabrielle was talking on the phone while strapping on a pair of ivory heels that accentuated her long, slender legs. Seawolf grumbled to herself as she sat down and began shoving her own webbed feet into a pair of large black boots. They had been specially made for her since she simply could not wear normal shoes. She preferred to go barefoot whenever she could but that wasn’t an option here. A real restaurant wouldn’t let her in without shoes, not to mention that early spring in Wisconsin was ridiculously cold.

  “I don’t see why you’re making me do this,” she muttered to Gabrielle when she hung up.

  “Do what? Take Danny Chase out to lunch? Because you’re the one who wants the team to hire her and because you’re the one that she specifically requested! Jesus, Seawolf, stop making a capital case out of this. It’s just lunch, for Christ’s sake.”

  Seawolf glared at her. “You could at least try to be pleasant,” she growled.

  Gabrielle laughed. “Yeah, you’re one to talk. You bitched the whole way here from California. Seriously, I’m organizing all the last-minute details for the Costume Launch from halfway across the country and you’re freaking out over having lunch with a super teen?”

  “A Costume Launch is the worst sort of publicity event – all fluff and no substance,” Seawolf said peevishly.

  “Whatever,” Gabrielle said, sounding annoyed. “Just because you don’t appreciate the new design… ”

  “Why even change things in the first place? There’s nothing wrong with the old costume!”

  Gabrielle stared at her for a moment. “You are so – so, oh I don’t know – quaint? Anyway, you know you’re meeting her at the Taj Mahal, right? According to Superlative, Danny loves Indian food. What? What’s wrong now?”

  “I hate spicy food! I have superior senses. Strong spices screw them up. You should know that.”

  “It’s one meal,” said Gabrielle dismissively. “In the interest of making a good impression on someone who might be your future team member, you can handle one meal. God, I thought you liked Danny Chase. You’ve been her strongest supporter in every Super Draft meeting we’ve had over the last four months! I thought you’d be thrilled to meet her in person.”

  “It’s not that,” said Seawolf. Her unhappiness had nothing to do with Danny Chase. She had spoken several times with Danny and the girl had been eager and respectful. Seawolf was genuinely excited about having her on the team. But meeting her like this – in an Indian restaurant in the heart of Milwaukee? There was no way she could explain how stressed she got at the thought of going out to eat. Putting herself on display in a public forum was one thing if heroics were concerned, but going to a restaurant was just hell. There would be the inevitable stares and whispered comments and the most heroic thing she could do was to finish her meal without throwing up. She felt like throwing up now.

  “Anyway,” Gabrielle continued, snapping her purse shut and standing up, “it’s too late to change the reservations now. Come on. We’re running behind. Have I mentioned that the sponsors luncheon begins in less than 30 minutes?”

  “So what?” snarled Seawolf. “I’m a superhero, not a public relations lackey.”

  Gabrielle stopped dead and stared at Seawolf with venom in her eyes. “Perhaps you need remedial lessons in superhero economics,” she said through gritted teeth. “Last year, the Governing Board approved a $159.2 million budget for the team, but the team then went on to pull in $172 million from endorsements, merchandising, paid public appearances, and other PR events, all arranged by the team’s ‘public relations lackeys’. You know those little things that make your job easier – let’s say for instance like ultimesh to keep you safe, and HoloBerrys to keep you connected, and airplanes to get you around, and an operations director to tell you what to do, and a training staff to keep you in shape, and a big shiny headquarters building to have a nice office in? SPONSORS AND PUBLIC RELATIONS LACKEYS MAKE ALL THAT HAPPEN! So shut up and get moving.”

  Seawolf stomped out after Gabrielle, feeling even more freakish than usual in the wake of her glamorous companion. “We could have met her in the team box,” she suggested when they got in the elevator.

  “Get over it already! You want to meet our potential Draft pick in the team box? What would you feed her - chips and cheese dip? You might as well accept the fact that you’re going. Believe me, you’re not the only one suffering. Last night at the mix-and-mingle that bastard from Super Car
nage Inc. thought he could paw all over me just because his company produces West Coast v. East Coast. I tell you, if it weren’t for the fact that they’ve got the most successful line of superhero video games in the country, I would’ve… ” Gabrielle’s HoloBerry rang. She picked it up and launched into an angry discussion about the team lineup for the Costume Launch. “And one more thing,” she yelled as the elevator stopped to admit some hapless hotel guests, “you tell Keystone that he needs to be at the Launch or he can kiss his renegotiation goodbye!”

  Seawolf frowned, trying to ignore the small child gripping her mother’s hand and gaping up in openmouthed wonder. Gabrielle was notoriously short-tempered, but this trip she had been particularly on edge. Admittedly, there was a lot to stress her at the moment. There was the Super Draft itself and associated publicity events and if the Costume Launch back home was a flop, everyone would blame Gabrielle, and the press here would have a field day. But the real problem was that one of her team mates, Keystone, had recently announced that he intended to sit out all publicity events and possibly even the Season if the team didn’t agree to his contract renegotiation demands. That threw Gabrielle’s perfectly orchestrated Costume Launch into jeopardy and made her even more unbearable.

  “Finally,” said Gabrielle as the elevator doors opened at the lobby. She strode off ahead of the cringing family and Seawolf struggled to keep up, already wincing from the discomfort of the boots. She hated wearing shoes.

  “Now remember,” Gabrielle told her when they got into the taxi, “play up the team but don’t oversell our financial status. We want her to be excited to come on board but not rake us over the coals when it comes to salary.”

  Seawolf nodded and started to say something but Gabrielle cut her off. “Though if Keystone really does sit out the Season, Neo-Mermaid is not our best pick. Sure, the NMX power armor packs a pretty punch, but it’s water-based and… ”

  “The team voted for Neo-Mermaid,” Seawolf said testily. “The whole reason that I’m taking Danny out to lunch is because we’re going to bring her on the team.”