Just Cause Universe 2: The Archmage

by Ian Thomas Healy

  “First I’m going to thaw the ice so I can work, and then I’m going to fix him. You have to trust me. I can save him.”

  Sally realized someday Minerva would likely be leading Just Cause. She carried a powerful, quiet strength about her that made one want to follow her direction.

  Doublecharge weakened under the unwavering gaze of the girl half her age. “Okay, say when.” She cut loose with a steady, crackling stream of electricity, directed at the blade of Minerva’s sword.

  Minerva watched the play of sparks thoughtfully, unaffected by the charge in the blade. “That’s sufficient, thank you.”

  “Are you going to stick me again?” Jack’s voice was faint. Sally jumped at the sound of his voice; she’d thought he was unconscious. But in spite of his pallor and bluish lips, his eyes were open as he watched Minerva.

  “Yes, but only for a few seconds. You won’t feel anything.”

  Jack cracked a smile, but it was only a ghost of his usual sardonic grin. “All doctors say that.”

  “When’s the last time you were at a doctor, Mr. Invulnerability?” Sondra tried to smile through her tears.

  Sally winced as Minerva slowly slid the heated blade into the frozen hole through Jack’s chest.

  Jack closed his eyes. “I’m going to have nightmares about this day for years to come. I wish I hadn’t seen you do that.”

  “If you’d been more careful at the beginning of all this, I wouldn’t have to do this at all.”

  Jack’s brow furrowed as he tried to discern what was going on in the vicinity of his spine. “Anyone ever tell you your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired?”

  Minerva withdrew her sword, dripping with melted ice, wiped it on her cloak, and slid it back into her scabbard. “I’m not a doctor.” She put her hands on either side of the hole in Jack’s chest and leaned her head down close to gaze into the gaping wound.

  “Uh…” gasped Jack. “What is she doing? What are you doing?”

  Minerva glanced up at him. “Fixing you. Don’t move. This will take some time.”

  “Don’t move? Did she say don’t move?”

  “Yes, baby,” said Sondra.

  “Fine. Me and my severed spine will do our best to don’t move.” Jack grimaced at the discomfort.

  Sondra laughed in spite of herself. That was the Jack they all knew and loved.

  “Say, Minerva? Long as you’re fixing everything, I’ve had my mind set on a tattoo…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I don’t trust him.” – Betty McCutcheon

  “You know something? I don’t think you could trust yourself.” – John Hull

  -Deep Cover (1992), New Line Cinema

  July, 2004

  Denver, Colorado

  Just Cause Headquarters

  Doublecharge assumed command of Just Cause once more because of Juice’s injuries. As soon as she was certain Jack had been secured and freed of his magical burden, she put in a call to the group defending Stratocaster and ordered an immediate retreat.

  “That should keep him guessing.” Will materialized within the magically-protected Bunker. His demeanor changed when he saw the Just Cause heroes receiving treatment for their injuries.

  Doublecharge intercepted him with quiet but intense questions about the situation in North Dakota. He reported that four of the defense team heroes had suffered injuries severe enough to require emergency treatment. He’d transported them to the Institute of Parahuman Medicine in Paris, where they could recuperate under under the watchful eyes of Dr. Grace Devereaux. He also explained that they’d lost three more heroes.

  “What do you mean, lost?” asked Doublecharge.

  “Captured by the Archmage’s forces,” explained Will sadly. “I’m certain they’ll be turned against us.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Toxic, of the Young Guns and Chrome and Seahawk of the New Guard.”

  Doublecharge sighed. “Well, it could have been worse.” She pulled out her phone and requested that the Command Center send her complete files on the three captured heroes.

  “How bad was it here?” asked Will as he looked around at the evidence of the carnage from their battle against Jack.

  “Bad,” said Doublecharge.

  Minerva spent a full day and a half putting Jack back together. She didn’t stop to sleep, eat, or even to use the restroom. Jack passed out into a near coma according to the paramedics, who checked him as best as they could without disturbing Minerva’s progress. The rest of the team stayed with them in shifts to see if she or Jack needed anything.

  Nobody understood how she was fixing him, but his wound was unquestionably healing. “Hell if I know what she’s doing,” Will said to Sally as she relieved him for a shift. “It looks kind of like she’s gluing him back together at a molecular level.”

  “Is it magic?” wondered Sally.

  Will looked over at Minerva, who seemed fully aware of their presence but didn’t stop her work. “I don’t know. It feels kind of like magic, but I’m sure it isn’t.”

  “Because the Archmage would be after her too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yes.”

  Will left to spend some time with Ace while Sally sat beside Minerva, her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees.

  “Sally? Sally, wake up.” Minerva’s voice was quiet. Sally started and looked around in confusion.

  “Whuh?” In spite of her powers, she was never one to wake up at full speed, Sally’s thoughts swirled in a muzzy haze.

  “I’m finished.” Minerva glanced down at Jack and made a slight smile. “Good as new.”

  “Is he okay?” Sally pushed her hair back out of her eyes.

  “Yes. He should awaken within the next few hours.” Minerva yawned and let her hood fall back. Her shoulder-length brown hair was matted and stringy from being covered for a day and a half. “I think I need a nap. And a bath. And a toothbrush. And some ice cream.”

  “This is amazing,” said Sally as she examined Jack’s torso. She could find no sign of a wound; not even a scar. “Will he be able to walk again?”

  “I suspect so, but we really won’t know until he wakes up.” Minerva staggered suddenly. Sally was next to her in a flash to support the small girl. Minerva felt like a fragile bag of bones.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” she said, and nodded to the paramedics who hovered near Jack like nervous midwives.

  Minerva could barely stand, much less walk, but insisted on getting some food inside her before giving into sleep or submitting to a medical exam, which would have been Sally’s first choice. Sally helped her to the elevator and then across the headquarters building to the cafeteria. Once there, Minerva flopped gratefully into a seat while Sally zipped around and filled a tray for the younger girl.

  Whatever she had done to heal Jack had created a monstrous appetite within Minerva. She ate plate after plate of food until Sally’s stomach groaned in sympathy. Along with all the food, Minerva also drained several carafes of soda and finally started to slow down with a fifteen-scoop sundae in front of her.

  “Wow,” said Sally. “Where do you put it all? Hollow legs?”

  Minerva shrugged as she licked a stray drop of chocolate sauce from the back of one hand. “I don’t know. My powers usually leave me feeling kind of drained and hungry, but this is a first for me.”

  “If I ate like that, I’d weigh as much as Jason,” giggled Sally.

  “If I didn’t, I’d waste away. My powers feed directly off my body mass.”

  “What? That doesn’t make sense!”

  “Actually it makes more sense than the way most superpowers work. Take Doublecharge, for example. Where does her electricity come from?”

  Sally shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

  “It has to come from somewhere. That’s physics. It’s most likely she’s a conduit for her power, moving it from wherever it is to wher
ever she directs it. On the other hand, if she generates her power, a reaction has to create it, and that reaction requires fuel of some sort. My powers emanate from within me, and they consume my body mass.” Minerva took another bite of ice cream.

  Sally looked at her with a critical eye, as if she were Juice. Minerva’s cheeks had filled back in and her bones no longer stood out in sharp relief. “That’s really weird. And actually, it’s kind of scary.”

  Minerva smiled. “I’ve learned to adjust.” She pushed her bowl over next to Sally. “I’m not going to finish all this ice cream. You’d better have some.”

  Sally reached for a spoon. “What exactly are your powers, Minerva? Nobody seems to really know.”

  The petite young girl leaned back in her seat and released a quiet belch as she primly covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “Excuse me.” She yawned. “I think I could sleep for most of a week.”

  “Oh look, blueberries,” said Sally.

  Minerva looked around at the empty plates on the table in confusion. “Blueberries?”

  Sally laughed. “Blueberrying is a term my mother uses. It’s when you change the subject suddenly, presumably because you don’t want to talk about whatever it is you don’t want to talk about.”

  “Blueberrying.” Minerva smiled. “Yes, I believe that’s a very apt description.”

  “You don’t want to talk about your powers?” Sally felt disappointed.

  Minerva yawned so deeply it made Sally’s eyes water. “Maybe another time. Right now I need to hibernate. Thanks for staying with me, Mustang Sally.”

  “You don’t need to be so formal with me, Minerva. You can call me Sally like everyone else does.”

  “You can call me Minnie,” said the younger girl. “But not in front of anyone else.”

  “All active members report to the Bunker infirmary,” said Doublecharge over their phones.

  Minerva sighed with frustration.

  “No, you go ahead and sleep,” said Sally. “You earned it after fixing Jack. I’ll cover for you.”

  “Thank you.” Minerva trudged off towards the dormitory like her feet each weighed a hundred pounds.

  Sally hustled back to the Bunker in a few seconds. Most of the team was already there. Juice had his bed tilted up, with a thick bandage stretched across his massive chest. Normally very expressive with his hands, he had to keep them still. Every once in awhile he’d forget himself and move them suddenly, after which he would wince and gingerly set them back by his sides again. The wound across his chest was deep enough that the medics had needed to use heavy-duty staples and repairs had been made to his pectoral muscles.

  Switchboard was in the next bed over. He looked disheveled and looked like he was wearing a domino mask with the bruising around his eyes from internal bleeding. He had a medium-severe concussion and was hooked up to a brain scan. Psionic injuries were poorly-understood, and even the researchers at the Institute of Parahuman Medicine had very little practical experience with them.

  Jack was awake and lay peacefully in his bed with Sondra by his side. She stroked his hair lovingly. He grinned and almost flirted with the nurse taking his temperature.

  “All right then,” said Juice. “We’re a little beat-up, but we accomplished our goal and freed Jack.”

  Jack’s grin was as authentic as ever, for which Sally was grateful. “Thanks for that. Believe me, working for that guy was no picnic.”

  “You were aware of it?” asked Stratocaster.

  “Yeah I was. At least, at some level I knew what was going on.”

  “That’s disturbing,” said Doublecharge.

  “Preaching to the choir, dear Stacey,” said Jack.

  Juice continued. “The reports I’ve seen from the front lines are encouraging. The Archmage has recalled all his extended troops and retreated significantly.”

  “It worked!” Sally grinned and reached over to high-five Jack.

  “Sort of,” Stratocaster said. “He’s strengthening his current position. All we’ve done is cause him a setback.”

  “Which was our intention,” said Juice. “And now we need to move on him while he’s in disarray.”

  “Are you thinking of a full strike on his fortress?” asked Sondra. “That sounds ripe for failure if you ask me.”

  Juice shook his head. “No. I’ve been giving this some thought and talking it over with Stacey, Will, and Switchboard and we’ve come up with a plan which I believe has an excellent chance of success.”

  “Meaning it’s got at least an even chance of not failing,” interjected Jack.

  “We’re going to insert an agent of our own into the Archmage’s organization,” explained Doublecharge. “The agent will get close to the Archmage and will be activated at a critical moment, allowing us a strike right at the head of the organization.”

  “Cut off the head and the serpent will die,” muttered Jack. “Nice theory, at any rate. Who gets to be bait?”

  “Me,” said Sally suddenly, her intuition running at full speed.

  Juice looked at her in surprise. “That’s right. How did you know?”

  “Well, it just makes sense to me,” said Sally. “When the moment comes, speed will be essential, and nobody’s faster than me. You’ll need someone who can move faster than the Archmage can think or cast a spell or whatever he does.”

  “Go on,” said Juice. “You’re on the right track here, Sally.”

  “Um…” She faltered and Jason reached out and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. Her thoughts whirled as she considered possibilities. “The Archmage will certainly use his magic to check me to make sure I’m not a spy, right? So then I’ll have to be unaware of it, which means some kind of psionic and/or magical thingie in my brain. Glimmer laid a lot of that groundwork in my head back in Guatemala. I’m the logical choice.”

  Juice smiled. “If it didn’t hurt so damn much to move my arms, I’d applaud you, Sally. That was brilliant reasoning.”

  Sally blushed to the tips of her ears. “Oh, uh, thanks. I guess.”

  “It’s going to be a very dangerous assignment,” said Juice. “And if you’re not up to the task, say so now and we have a second and third choice in mind.”

  Sally looked around the room at the other heroes. She knew any one of them would gladly step up to do this job if she refused. But how could she honestly live with herself if she turned down the assignment and one of the others died in her place? She’d lost friends down in Guatemala and Shannon over a hundred years ago. They died so that she could live; it was time she returned the favor.

  She nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  Jason stiffened beside her. She didn’t have to be psionic to know he feared losing her once more, and this time permanently. She reached out, took his huge hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. He gave her a small smile, but pain showed in his eyes. He bent down and kissed her, sharing a lifetime of passion in a few seconds of close contact.

  Sondra left Jack’s side and squeezed her tightly. Sally closed her eyes and inhaled the baby powder scent of her friend’s wings. “We’ll make sure you come out of it all right,” she whispered in Sally’s ear.

  Jack winked at her from his bed. He looked like he was ready to jump up and go back to work but the doctor made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere until twenty-four hours observation had passed. “You’ll do us proud, kiddo.”

  Sally looked back at Juice. “What do I have to do?”

  “Come with us,” said Stratocaster. “We’re going to turn you into a ticking time bomb, Sally, one to finish this conflict.”

  “What a lovely legacy I’ll leave behind me. Salena Thompson, Suicide Bomber.”

  Switchboard chuckled, but then grimaced at the pain from his injuries. “This won’t be anything so permanent or devastating to you. We promise. We’ve been talking this over thoroughly. You’re going to be our ace in the hole.”

  “That sounds better.”

  Ment hurried into the room, his long black
trenchcoat flying behind him and a black do-rag tied over his head. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I never heard the page.”

  Doublecharge opened her mouth to say something but Switchboard was faster. “Ment, glad you made it. I’m going to need your help with some complex psionics.”

  The young psi grinned and slipped on his sunglasses. “I’m your guy, dude.”

  “Wait a second, he’s part of this?” Sally was beginning to have second thoughts. And third thoughts.

  “I need him,” said Switchboard. “I understand what we’re doing, but I don’t have the kind of ability to perform it. Ment has those skills, but needs my guidance. It’s just another form of gestalt.”

  “Oh.”

  Stratocaster led her and the two psionicists to an empty examination room. “Don’t worry. This won’t hurt a bit. I promise.”

  “What exactly are you going to do to me?” Sally hopped onto the examination table and laid back.

  “I’m going to hide a spell in you that will go off when you receive the proper key, and then Switchboard and Ment are going to erase your memory of its existence.”

  Sally swallowed nervously. “So I’m the mad bomber after all.”

  “Essentially,” grinned Stratocaster. “The spell is the bomb. The key will be the detonator.”

  “And Switchboard and Ment?”

  “They’re the guys who get to convince you that you’ll be richly rewarded in the afterlife. Seventy-two virgins and all that.”

  Switchboard frowned. “I find that remark to be in poor taste.”

  Will considered it. “I wear checkerboard pants and I have a purple mohawk. Poor taste is my stock in trade.”

  Ment rolled his eyes at Sally. Old guys, huh? She heard in her mind.

  Will began to play. The tune seemed almost familiar to Sally. She found herself almost trying to hum along with it as it went through various stages and permutations. Each time she thought she had a handle on the direction of the music, it would change. Soon she was so caught up in the themes that she couldn’t keep up, and let herself be carried away by the music, which seemed to permeate every molecule of her body. True to Will’s word, the process didn’t hurt at all; in fact, it was rather pleasant. The music flowed over and around her, as if it was a river. Soon, she could no longer keep her eyes open and drifted off into a deep sleep full of troubling dreams and the best, strangest soundtrack she’d ever heard.