The Infinite League

by John Jr. Yeo

On the other side of the room were three burly looking Marines, all busy talking to Colonel Bridge. Two of them were holding tablets covered with undecipherable technical charts and displays, but they were all jabbering away in controlled but urgent tones. Something was going down, that’s for sure.

  Captain Eric Quincy, who I was increasingly finding myself fond of, was surrounded by a bunch of other agents under his supervision. Like the Marines, they were busy chattering away about system security and possible cyber warfare. As far as I could tell, he was fourth in command around here, under Ambassador, Colonel Bridge and Dr. Progeriat. He was also the only one who knew what was bugging the hell out of me this morning, and I really could have used a hug from him. Despite his harried expression, he tossed a very discrete but understanding nod in my direction. It helped a little bit.

  Finally, a small round of applause rolled through the room as the smiling face of Ambassador finally strolled through the door. He shook hands and laughed warmly as he walked in, looking the absolute picture of perfect health. My jaw was still wide open by the time he lumbered up to me, I couldn’t believe how healthy he looked.

  “I wish I healed as fast as you did,” I told him enviously. “You looked like shit a few days ago.”

  “It’s my alien physiology,” he replied modestly. “It allows me to heal much faster than humans. I’m just glad you were able to apprehend that criminal without any more bloodshed. I couldn’t be prouder of you, Andromeda.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have been able to beat him if you hadn’t shredded his outfit.”

  “It’s called team work. It’s how we’ve remained undefeated and unchallenged for fifteen years.”

  “You even laid a little trash talk on him,” I smiled. “That was funny, by the way.”

  And then we had an awkward pause, as he just stared at me for a moment, smiling, waiting for me to say something else. Just a peculiar blank grin, as if he didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “You know, that taunt about him hitting like a girl? That totally got under his skin, man.”

  “It was a heated moment,” he said after an odd moment of silence. “I don’t remember exactly what I said. I’m just glad we prevented anyone else from being hurt.”

  After that, he excused himself to have a few private words with Dr. Progeriat in the corner. It was a strange moment, but at least he sounded as genuine and trustworthy as he always did. One could almost accuse him of having crafted a perfectly practiced façade. The more I hung out with these heroes, the more cracks I was seeing in the shiny exterior.

  “He’s looking healthy and happy again,” said Submission, taking a seat next to me in the front row. She was glancing in Ambassador’s direction, shaking her head in amazement. “I heard Shock Daddy roughed the big guy up pretty bad.”

  “I guess he’s as tough as they all say,” I shrugged. “Not a scratch on him.”

  “There never is,” she admitted. Call me crazy, but she sounded more suspicious than impressed. I wanted to drill her for more information, but Dr. Progeriat had approached the podium and the rest of the staff were now finding their seats.

  He tapped the microphone twice, and the assembled technicians, mechanics and other support staff turned towards the base leader and silenced their conversations.

  “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted us. “I know it’s Sunday, and many of you have the day off, so I’d like to thank you for coming to this emergency briefing. I promise this won’t take long, but a situation has come up that everyone here should be made aware of. I’m going to turn the floor over to the Colonel Bridge, our director of the Department of Superhuman Activities.”

  All eyes turned towards the Colonel, who took the podium with a barely restrained rage broiling just underneath his uniform. All I could do was keep a serious face on and act like I knew what was going on.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll keep this as short as possible. Sometimes we become so focused on protecting the world and ourselves from people with powers that we forget to defend ourselves from the more conventional threats out there. It’s been brought to my attention that our systems may have been hacked by outside sources.”

  There was a mumbling of concern through the crowd, as everyone who hadn’t been aware of this yet started looking at each other for further answers.

  “Is it the Digital Demon, you think?” asked one technician. “He’s been known to travel directly through phone lines.”

  “He can’t circumvent biometric security measures,” DeathTek told us. “That nimrod can barely competently order a pizza, let alone hack into the Dome.”

  “Isn’t Ubaidullah Zahr supposed to be in the country?” asked one of the women from the armory. “They’ve been trying to recruit Sparks into their army, I’ve heard.”

  That name again, I’ve heard it mentioned before. “Who’s this guy they keep talking about?” I asked Submission in a quiet voice.

  “He’s an arms dealer from Habindaque,” she whispered to me. “He traffics weapons, drugs and slaves all over the middle east.”

  “Zahr’s presence in the United States hasn’t been confirmed,” Colonel Bridge reported. “And as your government liaison, I’m reminding you all that the current administration is extremely hesitant to involve super humans in any interactions with foreign countries unless it’s in the defense of our citizens on our soil. Our super heroes aren’t going to war with a small group of Muslim extremists.”

  There was a small murmur of dissatisfied grumbling rolling through the crowd, but the debate on that subject ended. I decided to speak up. “So who’s the suspect?”

  Bridge hesitated. I could tell he had an answer, but he didn’t want to admit it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, what I’m about to tell you is merely conjecture at this point. This is to remain confidential and in-house until we have more evidence. But at this time, our primary focus will be on Major John Baltrin.”

  The emotions in the room ranged from disbelief to anger now, and it took Bridge a half a minute to quiet down the assembled men and women.

  “That’s gotta be a mistake,” DeathTek finally said, standing on his feet. “Baltrin? He’s a smart guy, but he couldn’t have gotten through the fifty layers of security here.”

  “Are you sure, DeathTek?” replied the Colonel. “He designed half of them, after all. He helped designed the armor you live in. He helped Dr. Progeriat build the Dome from the ground up. If anyone could hack into our systems, he’s the most likely candidate.”

  “But why would he?” Necromancer asked. “Baltrin believed in the Infinite League. He’s been with us since the start.”

  “Yeah, he also bailed on us,” DeathTek reminded him. “We never did find out why he quit.”

  “There’s priceless information on enhanced humans, supernatural entities and advanced weapons in our database,” the colonel reminded the room. “Not to mention detailed information on every member of the Infinite League. You could get your hands on the schematics to re-create Silver Entropy’s disintegration ray. That alone would be worth a lot of money to the right organization. Perhaps he needed the cash.”

  “So there’s motive to hack into our computers,” I agreed. “Has there been any proof that he’s your man?”

  “Three tangible examples of proof, as a matter of fact,” he replied. “An attempt last night was made to hack into our archives, unsuccessfully, using a backdoor that only three men knew about. I’m one, the second one is dead, and the third is our old ally Baltrin. Second, one of the sentries saw the hologram projector activate in the armory. It was only for a few seconds, but he swore that it was Baltrin peeking in.”

  “Why not just petition for a visitors pass if he wanted to tour the lab?” asked the Ambassador.

  “He might have been using the projector to have a private conversation with someone here inside the base, but he killed the feed when he saw the sentry before a positive identification could be made.”

  “It sounds pretty cir
cumstantial so far,” Necromancer said doubtfully. “What else have you got?”

  “Three days ago, he went missing,” Bridge announced grimly. “He’s gone AWOL from his post in Peru. Nobody knows where he is.”

  It was the strangest thing. Looking around the room, I got the feeling that no one really believed this Major John Baltrin was working against the Infinite League. I’d heard his name mentioned before, but I still didn’t really know who the guy was.

  The projector lit up and flashed an image of the suspect on the wall behind Colonel Bridge, and he gestured to everyone to take a good look at the image. I studied the man’s face carefully, wondering what was really going on here. He wasn’t a bad looking man, really, for someone who looked like he was approaching fifty. Warm brown eyes, a rugged chin, and a moustache that didn’t take shit from anyone.

  “This is a direct order from the Department of Superhuman Activites. Any and all contact with Major John Baltrin will be handled as a potential threat. If he makes holographic contact with anyone, you will discretely alert either Dr. Progeriat or myself. If he is seen on the grounds of the base, he is to be taken into custody. In the meantime, we will double security for this base’s assets, and our tech team will give closer scrutiny to our existing security.”

  I looked at Submission, not sure what to make of all this. That’s when I noticed that she was cautiously watching me from the corner of my eye, as if she was concerned that I had seen something I wasn’t going to like. Her eyes seemed to be darting back and forth between me and Necromancer. He was watching me as well.

  That’s when it all clicked together. Major Baltrin. I had seen him before. The first day I was in the Dome, I had seen him. It was his hologram that had communicated with me. And I had seen him again, speaking to Submission and Necromancer in the middle of the night, when Necromancer had been crying. That was the night she slammed the door in my face. They had been speaking with him! They know I saw them!

  “That’s all at this time,” Bridge said with a nod. “Thank you for your attention. Please let Captain Quincy, Dr. Progeriat or myself know of any new information.”

  The crowd began to break up, and everyone began to move into separate directions. I took a step towards Colonel Bridge, but I didn’t know what I was going to say. Should I tell him that I had seen Major Baltrin a few weeks ago? Should I mention that he had been talking to both Submission and Necromancer?

  Before I could flag him down, Submission stepped in front of me and smiled humorlessly.

  “Do you think we should have a talk?” I asked evenly.

  “Maybe this would be a good time to go shopping,” she suggested.

  Why was I suddenly scared this was a trap?

  14

  Some Bonding Time

  Sunday May 25 – 1:00 p.m.

  I hadn’t gone on a real shopping trip for new clothes since before I lost my job. Not counting my trip to Target with Ann-Marie for a couple of new bras and a pair of jogging pants, I really didn’t have the cash to splurge on anything but the bare necessities.

  I wasn’t even expecting them to let me leave the base. I’d been on virtual lock down since the day they detained me. But I think after apprehending Shock Daddy and obediently returning to the base, the colonel decided to give me a bit of breathing room. He agreed that I could spend the afternoon out, provided that I remain in Submission’s company.

  She was wearing a bright white body con dress with red stripes, and her long hair was elaborately coiled up into an attractive mountain of braids. She loaned me an oversized black blouse with long sleeves, and a pair of well-worn jeans. It was cute, not too flashy, and effectively hid the gauntlets that were permanently sewn into my wrists. If we were going out, we were going as regular people and not celebrity super-heroes. This was fine by me.

  “So, I don’t have any cash on me. Is there an ATM in this fortress?” I had asked.

  “Your bank account was frozen the day after your arrest,” Colonel Bridge told me in a rather condescending tone that suggested he was surprised I didn’t already know that.

  “I had twenty thousand dollars in that account,” I lied.

  “You had eighty-two dollars and some change,” he corrected me, handing Submission a silver credit card and turning towards her. “This woman is still in the custody of the DSA, so she is your responsibility. She needs to be back for tomorrow morning’s briefing. She is not to leave the greater metropolitan area, and contact with her family is prohibited. Is that understood?”

  “It’s not going to be a problem,” she promised. “Give her a break, Colonel. She’s been a good girl, she’s followed the rules, I think she’s earned a little breather.”

  He gave me one more look, exhaled suspiciously, and finally walked away, leaving me alone with Submission. I had no idea how this day was going to go.

  “If we’re going to go out shopping like regular girls, you can’t call me Submission out in public,” she told me. “You can call me Cassie.”

  “Your mother named you Cassandra?”

  “My mother named me Cassiopeia,” she replied testily. “You got a problem with that, Emmeline?”

  “No need to get touchy. Now, did you really want to go on a shopping trip, or do you just want to go somewhere quiet and explain to me why I shouldn’t tell Colonel Grumpy that you and Necro have been holding late night chats with that Baltrin guy?”

  Her bottom lip flinched and she looked around apprehensively. I had her in a corner, and she knew it. Something fishy was definitely going on around here.

  “A little bit of both, okay? Come on, we’ll take my car.”

  “You have a car?” That was weird. I never pictured the super-hero Submission driving a car.

  “I do have a life, you know.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I groused. “How do you guys even make a living? I figured you had some boring job in your secret identity or something.”

  “Most enhanced people do have ordinary jobs,” she admitted. “Being a super-hero normally doesn’t pay very much. But the Infinite League are registered with the DSA as contracted operatives.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She held up the silver credit card and grinned as she wiggled it between her fingers. “It means we’re super heroes with an expense account!”

  Oh. How interesting. For once, I was speechless.

  “Come on, girl,” she beamed at me, grabbing me by the hand. “Let’s go spend some taxpayer dollars and maybe get our nails did.”

  The next three hours were jarring to a simple gal like me. I had assumed we were going to K-Mart. Maybe Kohl’s. Instead, I spent the next several hours drifting from one store to another in the Georgetown district, buying clothes from places I’ve never heard of before. Everard’s. Paul Stuart. Amina Rubinacci. I felt like Julia Roberts walking into the upscale clothing store in Pretty Woman.

  At five in the afternoon, we were sitting comfortably at a patio table at an expensive French restaurant on 24th street, flanked by the bags of clothes and shoes we’d just stockpiled. I had wanted to try the Italian bistro across the street, but Submission was dead set on sitting outside.

  “I really thought we were going to Wal-Mart or something,” I whispered to her. “Some of these shirts cost over two hundred bucks!”

  “You risk your life to save others every day,” she told me. “Occasionally, just once in awhile, we’re entitled to some pampering.” We were drinking wine that cost less than our clothes, but still more expensive than I would have paid, from a brand with a name I wouldn’t have been able to pronounce if my life depended on it.

  A few sips of the wine had given me the courage I needed to forge ahead with the conversation. “So. Cassiopeia…”

  “Cassie is fine.”

  “Okay, that’s gonna take some getting used to. You’re one of the world’s most famous super-heroes,” I reminded her in a quiet voice. “I’m just an ex-cop from Philadelphia. It feels a little weird to be on an informal fi
rst name basis with you, you know.”

  “Just trying to make you feel more comfortable.”

  “Or you’re hiding something so you want me as a friend right now.”

  “You want to know about Major Baltrin,” she replied with a nod. She knew exactly where this was heading, she was just feeling me out to see how reactionary I was going to be. I had restrained myself from telling the colonel what I knew. I wanted to hear her side first.

  “It’s time for some serious conversations. Can I trust you?”

  “I’ve played ball with your team so far,” I reminded her. “What else do you want from me?”

  Submission put her glass on the table, and rested her chin on her hands. She was staring into my eyes, deeply and soulfully, as if monitoring every minute fluctuation of my eyes.

  “You seem like an honest woman,” she began after a moment of silent observation. “You seem like someone who truly wants to make the world a better place. Tell me why you were fired from the police force.”

  This really wasn’t my favorite of topics of conversation. I’d never even told my father about what really happened. I didn’t feel right about telling a total stranger. I started to protest, but she suddenly turned her attention towards the Italian bistro across the street. She cautiously watched two men in grey suits walk into the restaurant, and after a moment she disregarded them and turned her attention back to me.

  “Aren’t you the mistress of mind control?” I asked her with a smug grin. “Why don’t you just order me to tell you?”

  “Because I’d rather not use my powers on you,” she replied. “I’d rather you trust me and tell me honestly. Tell me your secret, and I’ll tell you one of mine.”

  This was going to require another sip of wine, so I helped myself to the remainder of my glass. She continued watching me intensely. I began talking.

  “I had a partner on the Philadelphia Police Department for three years. Seth Sharp was his name. He was a body-proud, bigoted, entitled prick.”

  “Sounds like my dad,” she replied. I gave her an appreciative smirk, and carried on with my story.