Young Sentinels (Wearing the Cape)

by Marion G. Harmon

  Jacky told me the story over breakfast, after I’d called my parents to check up on Toby. She didn’t say exactly what happened to Acacia’s sire — apparently the whole thing was serious, deep, cut-your-throat classified — but I guessed that decapitation and fire was involved. Jacky’d used her evil vampiric mind-enslaving powers to make Acacia forget all the bad stuff that had happened to her, but the girl had sworn off goth. Now she embraced a wardrobe of bright colors, frills, skirts, and lace. Bows and even silk flowers were involved; it was like a florist’s shop had exploded.

  But she was still a fan, just a Jacky-fan and by extension a superhero fan. All this had happened during Jacky’s first trip to New Orleans, and now the two of them were — and here I couldn’t stop laughing — living together in a haunted French Quarter property Jacky was converting into a coffee shop and detective agency! Apparently decapitating a few vampires bought you respect, and she was working with her voodoo queen grandmother, a too-good-looking-to-be-real lawyer, a werewolf police detective, and a vampire godfather to police the Big Easy’s supernatural community.

  Oh. My. God.

  “You’re getting too much fun out of this,” Jacky said as I giggled helplessly into my hand (I’d already spit my morning coffee across the breakfast table). I shook my head desperately, tears streaming. It would never do for the Young Sentinels’ new fearless leader to laugh until she fell out of her chair. Mal and Brian looked our way between bites of Willis-served omelet (in Brian’s case, a stack). Reese stayed focused on his epad.

  “Please please please tell me you’re making this up,” I finally gasped, snorting with complete inelegance. “I can’t — I can’t, believe this. So is she your new sidekick?”

  “No.” That came out with her Voice of Doom, which I could never manage without sounding ridiculous, the voice that said We shall not speak of this again. She sighed. “Seriously, I brought her along because she’s pretty helpless for a vampire. She panics when she’s alone.”

  Still traumatized. Suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. I reached over and squeezed Jacky’s hand. “She couldn’t have a better friend. So, when are you going back?” She looked at her mug and I was instantly suspicious — Jacky didn’t deflect.

  She shrugged. “I’ve got some hunting to do, and I want to show Acacia a couple of my Chicago safehouses just in case New Orleans ever turns vampire-hostile. And your mom has invited me to Friday dinner.” Her lips twitched. “Demanded I show up, actually.”

  “Yes! You need to meet Shelly’s mom, she’ll probably still be in town. And we need to — ”

  “ALL SENTINELS! ALL SENTINELS! REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO THE LAUNCH BAY! ALL SENTINELS! ALL SENTINELS! — ”

  My earbug practically vibrated, but they weren’t taking chances — the alert came through every speaker in the room too — and the reflexes of endless drilling pulled me out of my chair. Mal half-stood, wide eyed, Brian started to bulk up but wasn’t sure either, and Reese didn’t move.

  “Move it, guys!” I shouted on the run. “Young Sentinels means Sentinels! Shelly! Get everybody!” When I wobbled off-balance with my brace, Jacky grabbed my good elbow to help me go faster.

  In the starship-base that is the Dome, even our elevators are wicked smart; they opened when we got to them and snapped closed the instant sensors told them there was nobody immediately behind us in the hallway. Brian made it a tight squeeze for the rest of us and the emergency speed of our ride almost threw us to the ceiling at the end, but we didn’t beat everyone — Blackstone and Quin had probably come from Dispatch. All the rest except Shelly and Vulcan arrived within a minute, even Chakra.

  “Breakout at Detroit Supermax,” Blackstone said once the last of the older heroes arrived. “All duty-listed Sentinels are going; all Young Sentinels remain on base and on call. Watchman — ”

  “Take Grendel,” Ozma said — an instruction, not a suggestion. Blackstone looked at me and I froze up before nodding.

  “And Grendel. Watchman will be towing the floater, no time to catch a jet. Astra, the Dome is yours. Move, people!”

  Only superheroes would accessorize an aircraft with outside grips. Watchman showed Grendel a pair on top to hold on to as the floater lifted, Variforce shaping his fields for a ride-along as the sleek flyer rose through the bay doors and out of sight. Streamlined for high speed, the floater couldn’t go faster than a helicopter without an Atlas-type assist; Watchman would get them there faster than anything non-military could fly.

  Tsuris shrugged. “Guess we’re not Sentinels after all, huh?” Ozma raised an eyebrow, looked over at me, and the question unstuck my frozen brain. I took a breath.

  “Section One of your Operations and Procedures Manual? Superhumans under eighteen may not be knowingly deployed into military or police operations?” Not the complete story; Shelly hadn’t gone either, hadn’t even come to the bay, which meant Blackstone considered her job with Vulcan too important to take her away.

  “So why Brian?”

  Why? I opened my mouth, but Ozma answered first. “Few in that prison can hurt or stop Brian, and fewer can kill him.”

  It’s still going to make a mess. I didn’t say it. We were down one heavy because of me, and maybe we could get away with it. Last night’s operation had been legally iffy — Blackstone had explained that they hadn’t sent the under-eighteens into direct contact with the Wreckers, so they’d probably get a pass on it. But it was a terrible risk — the legal fallout of fielding Brian in a prison break could kill the Young Sentinels before we really started, and Blackstone had to be seriously worried to chance it. I hugged myself, cold. The Brotherhood and the Sanguinary Boys we’d put away were there. The survivors of Villains Inc. were there. What were they flying into?

  And why was I trying to remember a dream... Oh, no.

  “Shelly! I need to talk to Blackstone. Now!”

  Grendel

  A guy could get used to this. I held on as Watchman towed our little wagon train, Variforce trailing behind on his glowing force-field tethers.

  “Grendel,” Blackstone said in my ear. “How are you doing?”

  “It’s a nice day out. Sir.”

  “Good. Attention, everyone. Less than five minutes ago, Detroit Supermax went silent. Fortunately, the installation security system includes an outside trigger which trips in just such cases. This brought its independent and shielded secondary DSA system online, and we are getting some information.

  “The separate cell blocks appear to have switched into isolation mode, which is good. We’re not getting feed from inside several of them, which is bad. The Detroit Guardians are going in before us along with the local DSA response unit to secure the situation, and it may all be over before we arrive. However, given the nature of Detroit Supermax’s guests, we will not be counting on this.”

  He went silent, came back.

  “Also, be apprised that it is Astra’s opinion, and I concur, that we may be facing the Wreckers — Dozer’s capture may very well have been a Trojan Horse gambit. If this is the case, we may be facing the known Wreckers as well as Redback, a psi apparently now capable of seizing control of your body, and Dr. Pellegrini, whom we believe capable of boosting and suppressing breakthrough powers. You all read this morning’s tactical summaries. Lei Zi?”

  Lei Zi took over.

  “We form three groups and will make our entry to the prison through one of the emergency entry shafts and attempt to link up with the Detroit Guardians. Watchman and Grendel will take point and secure the bottom of the shaft. I, Seven, Rush, Artemis, Variforce, and Riptide will descend second as the reaction team. Blackstone and Chakra will remain upstairs in support. Questions?”

  “What’s our objective?” Rush asked.

  “That will depend on what we find downstairs. The entry shaft will put us on the edge of the dark zone. Whatever we find, our job is to throw them out of Beta Block if they’re there and to secure its cells. There is a good chance they are there after Temblor. And yes, he is still
alive. People, we will not be down there alone. The prison garrison is already present, and more CAI teams are coming in. Regardless, we may find ourselves dropping into a complete Charlie Foxtrot.”

  So, no pressure...just dropping blind into a pit full of superhumans with criminal tendencies, who might be free-range already. I felt my fangs growing and was glad nobody could see my smile.

  “Do not let go, monster,” Nox whispered in my ear.

  I almost lost my grip on the floater, which would have been as embarrassing as hell. I couldn’t see him.

  “What are you doing?” Now that I knew to pay attention, I could feel the psychotic little doll’s grip on my tie under my prep-school collar.

  “Her Highness used her Magic Belt to render me invisible for a time,” he hissed. “I must accompany you, for she has given me a magic compass and a mission.”

  “A mission? What does she want there?”

  “It is for you, monster. The Question Box has spoken again — ‘Today a monster will meet its maker.’ The compass will tell me who he is. The princess fulfills her oath to you today.”

  Astra

  The quick pass-along conversation with Shelly and Blackstone helped, and I managed to keep the bubbling panic out of my voice. Reminding everyone we were on alert, I directed them to check their epads for schedules (I knew Willis had been tasked to walk the newbies through in-Dome security procedures today, and they could do it in costume) and got out of the launch bay with no more sarcasm from Reese.

  Back in my rooms I scrambled out of my fancy brace and into my uniform — the easier skirted formal costume, not my field costume — then back into the brace. Even being careful, I caught a few eye-watering ouches; Chakra’s pain-suppression magic wasn’t saving me from the consequences of straining my healing arm. Not that I was going anywhere, but Blackstone’s departure left me “in charge.” Five minutes after fly-out I walked into Dispatch.

  David had a full line of Sentinel bobble-heads up, and he’d left his drawer open. Did he expect more action? And what was Blackstone thinking? “Astra. Congratulations.” David pointed to the top corner of the main screen. A little box with my symbol in it showed I was the Sentinel On Watch. Blackstone had left a sidelined nineteen year-old college sophomore in command of Chicago’s superhero assets — which was insane — and the little glowing box looked cheerfully innocent of intimations of doom.

  The cloud view on the main screen had to be from Watchman’s cam, and it displayed their airspeed: nearly seven hundred miles per hour. He could have flown a lot faster alone, but with over two hundred miles to fly, he’d still get them there in a little under twenty minutes.

  Twenty minutes for anything to happen.

  “What do you think?” I whispered. Everyone else stayed focused on their stations, but that didn’t mean they weren’t listening.

  David shrugged. “I think this is worse than the Daley Center. If all of the dark blocks are breached, they’re not going be able to hold the prison.”

  “What can’t we see?”

  He threw a basic map of the prison up on the screens. Maybe a third of the blocks were black.

  “Alpha through Delta blocks are dark. That includes the juvenile detention wing, but mainly the hardest cells and the isolation cells — the cells for superhumans too dangerous for direct human contact. But more than fifty percent of superhumans are D Class, and the spread for supervillains is about the same, so it’s a question of cells, not blocks. There are a handful of prisoners, if they get out of their cells, the prison isn’t holding them. The rest... We’ll see.”

  I nodded unhappily. Time was against us, and what David wasn’t saying was that it all depended on the capabilities and goals of whoever was making the jailbreak happen. I tried to think like Blackstone. If they’d gone in with a shopping list, then we might be all right. If they’d gone in to crack Detroit Supermax wide open...

  If it was the Wreckers, what did they want? Dozer, obviously, but who else and why? NOJ — not our job. It had been one of Atlas’ favorite expressions when anyone had brought up politics or police business. Blackstone reserved it for questions outside the current mission, and it was currently outside of mine. My job was what could happen in Chicago now, and I was two days out of the loop.

  “Shelly?”

  “Hope? Kinda busy here.” Down in the pit helping Vulcan with his force-to-heat tests, whatever those were, she’d barely poked her virtual head up long enough for me to run my Wreckers theory by her and get it to Blackstone before I cringed my way through dressing. She could multitask like the most advanced computers around, but could only do her serious thinking on one thing at a time (plus, I knew from long experience she was still just a bit mad at me for making plans for her behind her back).

  “I know.” I ignored David’s raised eyebrow. “Can you give me a summation of everything current on the Green Man and Blackstone’s notes? I really need to catch up.”

  “Oh, right.” The chill thawed a bit. “Would you like the DSA file, too? You’re cleared.”

  “Yes, please. David? I’ll be in the guest office upstairs?”

  He threw me a mock-salute. “No worries. Everything going on out there is Guardians work right now, anyway, and you can stand your watch from anywhere in the Dome. It’s gotten better since yesterday, fewer incidents since everyone easily panicked has gotten out of town or hunkered down.”

  I sucked in a breath; I’d completely forgotten about the ongoing state of badness in the city outside, even though it was right there on the screen in the orange borders. Was it that easy to lose track of the small stuff in the face of looming danger? Still.

  Don’t panic, Hope. So the field team is on a field trip — what is the worst thing that could happen while they are gone?

  That question really answered itself; my goal changed from not panicking to keeping it out of my voice again. I was getting good at that.

  “Does everybody know we’re mostly out of town?”

  “A bunch of cape-watchers and newsies saw everyone fly out, but we’re not required to notify anyone official... Crap.”

  I nodded. “Do me a favor? Could you get Superintendent Sean Redmond on the phone? Stay on the line, I’ll talk to him upstairs.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  I ran, wincing, up the stairs to the office level. Just the one flight of steps winded me. Closing the door on the guest office, the one Chakra used when she needed to go into meditate-mode and didn’t have time to retreat to her rooms, I caught my breath, made sure my mask and hair were straight, and sat behind the desk.

  The desk’s flatscreen computer monitor lit up with the team icon. “Astra, I’ve got the superintendent’s office on video conference, and they’re getting their boss.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I sat straight, breathed deep, smiled for the video feed, and Superintendent Redmond’s stern jowly features filled the screen.

  “Superintendent,” I opened. “Good morning, and I apologize for calling you away from your — your morning.” Darn it, that could have been smoother. Breathe, Hope, breathe.

  His lips did something under his mustache that might have been a smile. Or not. “I’m sure this isn’t for anything trivial, Astra. What can I do for you?”

  “I thought you should know, sir, that an emergency has called away all of the field team and support team, with the exception of myself, Galatea, and Vulcan, and I’m still on the injured list. Given the current state of alert...”

  What might have been a polite smile turned into a definite frown. The lines of his face deepened, but he looked away and gave himself a couple of breaths before looking back at me.

  “That’s unfortunate. May I ask why?”

  “I — ” I didn’t know how much of it was classified. How much would the Proper Authorities want kept out of the news? His frown deepened, and I decided. “They are responding to a possible jailbreak at Detroit Supermax. Please don’t — ”

  “Damn. Sorry. And of course I will keep
that to myself. What CAI resources do you have?”

  “I’m going to ask our Head of Dispatch to give you a rundown of all available capes, sir. I know that Dispatch makes the response decisions anyway, but with the alert — ”

  “You thought it was a good idea for me to know my people wouldn’t be able to count on the big guns for a while.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good call. And thank you. So, you are the officer of the day?”

  “I — yes. Sir? There is one more thing.”

  “Go on.”

  “The Green Man investigation is ongoing, and mostly under DSA jurisdiction. However, Blackstone — Blackstone had reason to believe that the Green Man might be connected to the person backing the Wreckers, and the Wreckers may be involved in the jailbreak, may have planned all this before we caught up with Dozer.”

  The superintendent’s expression didn’t change. “Do you believe that the Green Man may be primed to use this opportunity?”

  I nodded. “I do. We stopped him at O’Hare, and with our heavies gone...”

  “The perfect window, yes. Thank you, Astra. I hope you’re wrong, but best prepared and all that.” He breathed deep, sighed. “If we’re being alarmists, the drill will be good. Good luck to you, young lady, and I had best be about it.”

  He cut the connection with a brisk nod and I melted in my seat. That went well, didn’t it?

  “David?”

  “I heard. I’ll get right on our end.” And he was gone, too. I let out my breath.

  Pulling up the file Shelly had sent me, I tried to forget everything outside. How was Grendel doing? He’d seen action the day of his breakthrough, had strength and fight-training at Hillwood, but — Stop that. Ozma said it, almost nothing in Detroit Supermax has a chance to kill him. So focus. Focus seemed to be my mantra.

  Focusing on what might happen here would help me forget the team was flying blind into what could be the biggest superhuman jailbreak in history. Really. What could go wrong?