Jaimie scanned the detailed drawings and descriptions Crush had drawn on the large piece of deli paper and whistled. “We can’t do repairs like this ourselves,” she said, after a moment’s calculation, “The humans have gutted this robot’s operational, defensive and offensive systems. We need crew.”
Kyle walked in wearing nothing but his jeans. Jaimie noticed that his bare foot was leaving a trail of blood with every step. “We could force some humans to work for us,” said Kyle, “If they give us a hard time we’ll kill their children.”
Jaimie shook her head. “Humans with advanced knowledge of alien systems will be difficult to find. Do you know that your foot is bleeding?”
Kyle looked at his foot and shrugged. “I was experiencing some pain, but this body is always feeling pain.”
Jaimie looked serious. “Kyle, these bodies require care and attention. Even a minor injury can be life threatening.”
Kyle frowned. “My host body doesn’t seem to know this. I’m inhabiting an idiot.”
Jaimie smiled kindly. “Then I will have to think twice as hard for both of us.” Jaimie thought a moment. “Kyle’s idea has merit. We need a crew to man this robot, but humans won’t do. We need a crew familiar with advanced technology, and experienced with patching disparate systems together.”
Kyle looked at Crush and Kill, who seemed to be agreeing with Jaimie’s assessment. Kyle joined the consensus and nodded. “Great. Where do we get crew like that?”
Jaimie searched her host’s mind and suddenly found a useful memory. She smiled as a plan formed in her mind. “Oh. I remember something. Something recent. We need to get to Canada.”
Wonder Heroes 4.19
There was an open bottle of Scotch on General Rumpole’s desk with a thrice-emptied shot glass next to it. Seated at his desk the General dropped the file folder on the desktop, open to a page that detailed a series of Internet security violations perpetrated in the wake of Harlan Flicker’s betrayal months ago. He rubbed his eyes wearily and with a trembling hand reached again for the bottle of Scotch. He poured himself a fourth shot, and downed it quickly.
Options jockeyed for position in the General’s mind. He should destroy the file and try to forget what it contained. He should confront the suspect with the evidence. He should tell the team, let them handle it. He should alert his superiors in Washington and the United Nations Security Council. He should call the press. None of these options seemed right, because in truth there was no good way to deal with this. The best-case scenario might destroy the public’s faith in the Wonder Heroes, and the Wonder Heroes ability to work together as a team. It would betray weakness to the universe, and open the Earth up to attack.
General Rumpole closed the file Walter Watanabe had given him. Paper-clipped to the outside of the file was a black and white photograph of Theodore Studebaker, Wonder Hero Gold, smiling. It was his high school yearbook photo, and looked like a mug shot. Theodore was not the most photogenic guy in the world, and General Rumpole had had his doubts about the boy, but over the last few months Theodore had proven himself often.
The General rubbed his eyes. This would be hardest on Matt. Matt who had already given so much, Matt who was still working to overcome such great loss and tragedy…
The General did not know how he could ask Matt to deal with another betrayal.
“Computer?” said the General aloud, “Where is Wonder Hero Gold right now?”
The computer answered instantly, as if silently waiting for just this very question, but of course the computer was capable of answering thousands of such questions, simultaneously, all over the Wonder Base and beyond. “Wonder Hero Gold is in New York City, General, at the Loews Regency Hotel. Would you like me to contact him?”
“No,” said the General irritably, “What the hell is he doing in New York at this hour?”
“I am not at liberty to say, General,” replied the computer, “Wonder Hero Gold requested that his visit be considered private business.”
The General scowled at that. Though the Wonder Heroes ostensibly answered to the governments of the world, they were actually completely autonomous, and only allowed the appearance of UN oversight to mollify the concerns of the public. The Wonder Heroes alone determined the amount of cooperation and openness they would provide. General Rumpole served in an advisory capacity only. This was not an ideal situation from his point of view, but it beat the alternative, which would have been no role for the governments of Earth at all.
For the first year that the Wonder Heroes were active, the world viewed these strange and colorful superheroes with suspicion. No one knew who they were, or why they fought monsters and aliens, causing damage, death and destruction wherever they appeared. At that time General Rumpole was tasked with the job of hunting the Wonder Heroes down and ending their sudden spree of violence, but in time, he, and the world at large, began to realize that the Wonder Heroes were defending the Earth from a steady stream of alien conquerors. It made sense for the Wonder Heroes and the governments of Earth to work together in the cause of planetary defense.
So General Rumpole became the team’s liaison to the United Nations, but the Wonder Heroes were not bound by the strictures and rules of the military. Paul Kettles, the first Wonder Hero Crimson, was adamant that the team be able to lead their lives the way they wanted. He demanded the right to privacy even as the world made the Wonder Heroes into the biggest and most popular celebrities in the world. It was difficult for a military man to deal with at first, but over time General Rumpole learned to trust and appreciate the Wonder Heroes. He even came to think of them as he would his own children, and trusted them implicitly.
That is, until Harlan Flicker proved that being a Wonder Hero does not necessarily make you a wonder or a hero. The General believed that if he had been allowed true military oversight over the Wonder Heroes, Harlan would not have been able to come within a hair’s breadth of killing every living thing on Earth.
Now, confronted with evidence that Theodore Studebaker, the second Wonder Hero Gold, might also be a criminal, General Rumpole carefully considered his options.
The best suite available at the Loews Regency Hotel in New York was reserved for only royalty, the moneyed and the celebrated. Wonder Heroes were considered to be all three. Theodore appreciated the hotel’s policy of utmost discretion, and he had taken to availing himself of the hotel often in recent weeks. He found Wonder Base and the constant demands of his teammates and mother to be suffocating. Here, in New York City, he could be himself, and even be anonymous if he chose.
This night Theodore woke up with a start. His gauntlet was tingling, and his dreams, dark and disturbing, were quickly lost to him. Theodore looked around the dark room, illuminated through the clear windows by the ambient light of the chill night sky of the cold city. He could hear the shower running in the adjacent bathroom, but could not remember who was in there. He had only vague memories of coming to New York in the first place. Sitting up in bed and checking his gauntlet, he learned that he had been awakened from sleep because he had told the Wonder Computer to let him know anytime someone accessed computer records about him.
With a thought Theodore instructed the gauntlet to project a three dimensional holographic display of the information request. The gauntlet showed General Rumpole alone in his office with an open bottle of Scotch on his desk. The man looked deeply troubled by something, and said, out loud, “Computer? Where is Wonder Hero Gold right now?”
The Wonder Computer gave the General what information it could, but Theodore learned little about what was bothering the General by watching the scene unfold. Instead, looking closely, he saw a manila file folder on the desk with what looked like his high school yearbook picture clipped to it.
“Show me the file on General Rumpole’s desk,” said Theodore. Obediently the holographic display shifted angle, and pulled in tight on the open file. Theodore read what was written there silently. His face did not change ex
pression.
“Where did the General get this file?”
The Wonder Computer showed a holographic representation of Walter Watanabe and replied, “The markings on the file indicate that it is the property of the Dataprison Company, a subsidiary of Watanabe Industries.”
Theodore heard the shower in the next room turn off. He suddenly realized that he did not want to see whoever emerged from the adjacent bathroom. Silently he got out of bed and summoned his Wonder Armor. The door to the bathroom opened and a tall, frankly stunning woman with long dark hair and a sly smile entered the room, wrapped in a towel.
“Hey superhero, ready for round two?” she began, but she was alone. Her smile faded as she sat on the bed, forgotten.
Theodore had returned to Wonder Base.
A couple hundred miles north of Calgary was the Sylvan Lake Provincial Holding Area, a tiny rectangular peninsula that jutted into Sylvan Lake proper. At one time a park popular for volleyball tournaments and nature walks it had been recently taken over and converted into a holding area for the “lower-order” Spratsis that had comprised the crew of the captured Spratsis 3 of 8. The area had been chosen because the high water table made it impossible to tunnel out without drowning. Fences and Quonset huts had been quickly constructed, and the Canadian government posted guards. Generally, it was one of the better-run alien containment prisons on Earth.
The rat-like Spratsis were fed and treated well, but there was no plan for them beyond that. There was no system by which this alien species could be allowed to enter human society. The Spratsis had little strategic or scientific information of interest. The plan was to simply contain here, indefinitely. Like most of the aliens captured in the wake of invasions or mayhem, no one knew what to do with them except lock them up. The top scientific minds of Earth would sometimes arrange meetings with these aliens, to learn of their science or biology, but many aliens, like the Spratsis crew, were simply workers, lacking the scientific and engineering skills that would make them of interest.
To some people though, an experienced crew with hostile intentions towards the Earth might be a valuable commodity. With this in mind, Jaimie Karasik drove her stolen rental truck backwards through the gates of the holding area, through a burst of gunfire from the Canadian troops stationed there. The bullets easily penetrated the walls of the truck but were deflected away by the bodies of Crush and Kill, who shielded the delicate scientific equipment on board with their own bodies.
As Jaimie drove, Kyle leaned out of the passenger side window with an automatic weapon, laughing as he fired on the fleeing Canadian guards. Though busy driving, Jaimie could understand the excitement Kyle was feeling: They both knew that this was Kyle’s last battle. His human body did not have much longer to survive.
The infection in his foot, from the small, untreated wound he had received weeks ago, had resulted in his leg needing to be amputated below the knee, a horrific and painful procedure seen to by the robot Crush. The Aierta program within Kyle demanded war and battle, but the human body it occupied demanded care and attention, a demand neither the Aierta, or Kyle the human host, were all that interested in meeting. In his previous life the human Kyle had been in a downward spiral of depression, drugs and alcohol. The Aierta allowed Kyle to turn his aggression outward, but the inner need for self-destruction also demanded satisfaction. The human mind within Jaimie Karasik loved Kyle, but the Aierta programming that had merged with her knew the importance of allowing Kyle, and her love, a glorious death in battle.
The truck roared backwards through the main gates, past the receiving area and only stopped when it approached the electrified fencing that contained the rat-like crew member of Space Rat 3 of 8. As the Canadian Army regrouped their forces, the robots Crush and Kill exited the vehicle, and began drawing fire. There was a brief moment as Kyle smiled and looked at Jaimie. Neither human nor Aierta could understand the emotions that played across her face, but Jaimie understood all too well the simplicity of the emotion she saw in Kyle.
Jaimie reached out and grabbed Kyle by the back of the neck and pulled his lips to hers. Kyle resisted at first, but gave in, reluctantly. The kiss was quick, dry, and pregnant with emotions and possibilities that would never be realized. Kyle’s breath already smelled of death.
Jaimie wanted to say a million things. “I love you,” or “Don’t go,” but instead she said, simply, “Go get them.”
Kyle whooped, and drew his weapon. He opened the door to the truck and fell to the ground; the wooden stick that he had used to replace his lower leg had broken. Jaimie watched as Kyle picked himself up and found his balance. Then, guns blazing, Kyle hopped into battle behind the robots Crush and Kill.
Jaimie exited the vehicle herself, concentrating on the mission. She drew a portable hand laser, little more than an extraterrestrial metal cutting tool, and quickly sliced a doorway in the fence. The main battle between the Canadian troops, Kyle and the robots had moved some distance away, so several of the Spratsis were now poking their heads from out of their cramped Quonset Hut living quarters, or from behind the flaming trashcans they normally huddled around for warmth.
In the back of the truck was a portable archway, a fairly primitive teleportation system Jaimie and Kyle had designed using only parts they had stolen on Earth. She powered it up and turned to the captive aliens.
“I need crew!” shouted Jaimie above the noise and roar of the battle raging nearby, “Beings who understand how to maintain advanced technology and beings who hate this planet and wish to see it destroyed!”
No Spratsis stepped forward, and Jaimie grew angry at their hesitance and cowardice. “Listen to me! I am not some weak human girl! I am Aierta!”
The mention of the Aierta, creatures legendary in a thousand galaxies, caused some consternation and discussion among the alien crew. A Spratsis, slightly taller than the others, maybe from a slightly higher order, as the Spratsis reckoned society, stepped forward.
“We escape with you, the humans will hunt us down.”
Jaimie did not lie to the rats. She nodded her head. “Yes, they will try,” she admitted, “and we may fail, but as they come after us, we will kill them. As we go after them, we will kill them. We will attack and kill and battle the creatures of this planet until either all of them, or all of us are dead.”
Various Spratsis were discussing their options, in high-pitched chatter and squeals. The larger Spratsis stepped forward, leading a small group. He stopped a few paces away from Jaimie and looked at the truck. “This vehicle is too small to help us all escape.”
“This vehicle,” said Jaimie, “contains a matter-energy teleportation device. Just dive into the back of the truck.”
The Spratsis smiled his rat-like smile, and stepped towards the truck, examining the device. The device was crude and rudimentary, but the science was well established, off Earth. The large Spratsis threw a rock through the teleportation gate, and nodded as the rock seemingly vaporized, but his trained eye could discern the difference between teleportation and disintegration. The creature considered his existence in this prison, where he was fed and cared for, but trapped forever in a bureaucratic limbo, and quickly decided.
Jaimie smiled as the Spratsis scampered up into the truck and teleported away. Then the rest followed. In a single file and two at a time, as fast as they could run, the former crew of Spratsis 3 of 8 emptied the prison yard and trusted the technology to teleport them to freedom.
Jaimie turned her attention to the battle, not far away, where the robots were holding off the army. She saw a body not too far away, and gasped when she realized it was the body of Kyle, shot dead. A tear came to Jaimie’s eye, but the Aierta inside her wiped it away before it could fall far down her cheek.
The Colonel in charge of the Sylvan Lake Provincial Holding Area realized that the situation was getting rapidly out of hand. He watched through binoculars as the space rats, as his men had taken to calling the Spratsis, climbed in to the back
of the rental van, many more than could possibly fit inside so small a space. The robots, now identified as the reanimated Crush and Kill, were laying waste to his men, forcing his troops into retreat. The Colonel liked to believe that his training and his troops could handle anything, but here and now, he knew that he was beat. Reluctantly he put in the call to his government, who instantly put in a call to the Wonder Base.
When the call came through the gauntlets, Matt was with Cassie at the London Zoo and Kalomo and his fiancé Linnea were meeting with a wedding planner in Hawaii. They both issued recall commands through their gauntlets and were whisked back to Wonder Base.
“Ground troops are being assaulted by two robots and an unknown number of humans. The robots have been identified as Crush and Kill,” said the Wonder Computer in answer to Matt’s inquiry.
Matt dropped off Cassie at the day care, under the careful protection of Mrs. Mizoguchi, and hurried into the teleportation room. As Matt entered he saw Kalomo and Jay suit up in flashes of light and dark energy, and Susan was already on the teleportation pad in full Wonder Hero Crimson armor.
“Where’s Theodore?” Matt asked with some impatience.
General Rumpole’s voice came over the communications system. “He’s with me, Matt. Go deal with the situation in Canada, I’ll send him when I can.”
Matt was not satisfied with that answer. “It would be better to have the whole team, General…”
“People are dying out there Matthew,” replied the General, “Get going. Trust me.”
Susan caught Matt’s eye as he took his place next to her. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Damned if I know,” said Matt. He was not happy when the General overreached his authority.
Kalomo smiled as Jay held his breath in anticipation of the teleporter scrambling his atoms and shooting him across space towards Canada. “Jay, relax,” said Wonder Hero Ghost, “you've done this a hundred times now. The teleporter’s safe.”
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