by R. J. Ross
“I realize that you’re in a hurry, sir, but you’re the one that had the security wipe all of Penski’s work! All I have here is a crappy copy that was done in a rush! And you might not have noticed, but my focus was on the Skystep files, not on… this… thing.”
“I am not a thing. I lived as Penski for fourteen years and neither of you even noticed,” the mud says irritably.
“If you lived as him, you should know how to do whatever it is he did for you!” Thelma snaps. “Why was I the one you chose for this job? I have nothing to do with it! I wasn’t even working here at the time!”
“Because I OWN you, Farkinkle,” Mr. Cage says. “If I revealed what you did to a super, D-class or not, you would be looking at a very long stint in prison.”
“HE never told anyone, so clearly it would be your word against mine!” she replies, clicking even faster. She wants this over and both of them out of her office. She saw on a forum that the Darlin’s are playing mini-golf again. If she catches the bus, she might, just MIGHT get there soon enough to see it for herself. Either way, she’s missing the live feeds! She’d nearly missed the last game!
“Then how about, ‘if you don’t do this, you will not have a job,’ will that be enough to motivate you?” Mr. Cage growls, right next to her ear. She goes pale, her fingers stilling on the mouse for all of a second before she starts searching the files again.
“Whenever I had problems, I would just ask him,” the mud says.
“What?” Mr. Cage asks.
“Pretending to be him. Really, as long as he had his… computer, he didn’t particularly care that I was going into work as him,” the mud says. “He even told me what to teach the kid.”
The two of them turn and look at the mud, both thinking the same thing. “So… basically he used you to make money while he did his own research,” Mr. Cage says.
“NO!” the mud replies. “I was punishing him! He experimented on me! He experimented on Skye! He’s a terrible man that deserved to be imprisoned.”
“Look around you, Clay,” Mr. Cage says, motioning to the tiny room. “This is where a scientist obsessed with their work practically lives.”
“Only because you haven’t offered me a bigger office,” Thelma mutters.
“If I did, it would be crammed full of more pictures just like the ones plastered all over your walls. How is your research coming, Farkinkle? Have you gotten anywhere, yet?”
“I’m working on it,” Thelma says. “Manipulating the density of objects isn’t a very easy task.”
“My… well, Penski’s nephew figured it out in two months. It took him a bit over a year to actually create it, though,” the mud says. “You’re saying that you’re not smarter than a pre-teen.”
Thelma’s grip on the mouse tightens for a second. “I don’t believe you.”
“That’s the basic ability of these nanobytes,” the mud goes on, “which is why you getting them for just digging up a little bit of information should have you working much, much faster.”
Thelma turns, her mouth opening to say something, but she stops as someone knocks on the door. “Crap, I wasn’t expecting anyone…”
“You, get out of sight,” Mr. Cage says to Clay before heading to the door. “What?” he demands.
“Mr. Cage, we have unexpected visitors,” the security guard says.
“Then send them away,” Mr. Cage says. “We don’t accept unexpected visitors.”
“But sir, it’s Star Spangled and Kid Liberty.”
Mr. Cage goes still, his mind rushing. “Tell them I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep digging, Farkinkle. Your job depends on it,” he says before heading out the door.
***
“We should have picked up some clothes before coming here,” Trent says with a yawn as they wait in the front area of SITEC. “If I call South Hall, do you think they could bring us something?”
“Why don’t you call Emily?” Jeanie asks. “She can pack us a bag of our own clothes.”
“Sounds great,” Trent says, surprised that he hadn’t thought of it. He’s finally on his own planet, where he can see his girlfriend, and his friends, and he hadn’t even thought of that. “I’ve GOT to get some sleep,” he mutters as he taps on his comm-bracelet.
“TRENT!” Emily says as her hologram appears over his wrist. “You’re HOME!”
“Hey,” he says, giving her an infatuated smile. “Em, we’re in the South Branch to dispose of our clothes. Do you think you could bring me and mom something to change into?”
“Sure, but why there?”
“We’re at SITEC,” he explains. “They’re set up to properly dispose of foreign objects.”
“Couldn’t Nico do that?”
“Well… he’s got a habit of experimenting with stuff, you know?”
“Yeah, enough said,” Emily says. “Can you show me around a bit? Is there a security system good enough to keep me out?” He turns, aiming the camera of his comm-bracelet in all directions.
“I doubt it? They don’t have a technopath working here, at least not that I know of,” he says.
“Okay! But no complaining if you don’t like the clothes I bring, got it?”
“I was going to ask for—”
“NO complaining!” she repeats before hanging up. He sighs and sits down on the nearest chair, wincing as the plastic threatens to crack.
“The trick is to use a bit of flight power, sweetie,” Jeanie says from where she’s perched on a chair nearby, flipping through a newspaper.
“Oh… yeah, that makes sense… wait, should we even be sitting? We haven’t changed yet.”
“Star Spangled, Kid Liberty, if you would just follow me,” a woman says, stepping into the room.
“Ah, you might need to clean this chair, too, sorry,” Trent says as he stands to follow.
“I’ll make a note of it, thank you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“HOLE IN ONE!” Skye bellows as the ever-growing crowd lets out a cheer. Somehow this golf game has turned into a holiday of sorts, complete with people selling drinks and souvenirs on the sidewalks. There are even more musicians on the corners than there’d been when we showed up. “YEAH BABY!” she cheers, dancing in the air, excitedly.
“With a five bounce record,” Doris says, pulling a pen out from behind her ear to write it down. “I’m impressed. How long were you planning that one for?”
“Since I put the hole down!” Skye says with a grin.
“I really SUCK at this game,” I say, “but it’s so much fun! I want to get some of these for the school campus!” I step up to the spot we’re supposed to shoot from, tapping on the button that makes my ball appear.
“It takes a little practice,” Doris says. “Hey, after this shot who wants to go check on Dolly and Ruckus?”
“Oh, I do! I do! By now they’re probably COVERED in slimy stuff! I can’t wait to see Dolly looking like that!” Ariel says excitedly.
“Is Dolly even going?” Skye asks, looking at me.
“I don’t think so? I mean, last I heard it was just Ruckus.” I line up my ball, looking at the buildings that surround us with narrowed eyes. If I hit there, with this much speed, I can send it… that direction! I think. Maybe? Oh well, it’s worth trying! I swing the club.
“You missed the ball, Carla,” Doris says as I search the air for it. I look down, seeing the glowing purple ball right where it had been earlier.
“Oh,” I say. “Whoops.” I pull back my club, this time looking at the ball before I swing. The ball goes flying, and I let out a happy little sound as it hits where I’d planned.
“Speaking of slimy…” Doris says, “should we find out what happened with the slime-bag that filmed us?”
“Eh, he’s probably dead. But I guess we could call Nico and ask,” Skye says as my ball hits the ground, nowhere near where I’d planned for it to go. “Oooh, that’s going to be hard to pick up…”
&nb
sp; I stare at the ground, only to stop as my stomach grumbles loudly. “I’m starving,” I say. “Can we go get some food before we do anything? I mean, it’s not that big of a deal, since both Nico AND Su—you know who are on the case, right?”
“Ooooh, Cajun food!” Ariel says excitedly. “Hey, hey, everyone! Where’s the best place to eat Cajun food around here?” she calls to our crowd. “We’re hungry!”
“Are you going to pay?” someone yells. The rest of them start laughing at the joke.
“We’re not working today,” Skye says with her hands on her hips. “So there’s a… fifty-fifty chance.”
“Let’s be honest,” Doris says, “It’s more like forty-sixty, but the Hall’s always running around cleaning up the messes we make, so sooner or later they’ll get paid.”
“But aren’t you villains?” someone asks. “Why does the Hall clean up your messes?”
“Well, they can’t CATCH us, so they obviously can’t make US clean it up, duh!” Skye says. “So Century gets stuck with the job!”
“Look, how about whoever tells us the best place to eat gets a signature?” Doris offers as she hears my stomach growl loudly. “Whose, we won’t say, but you’ll get a signature!”
The crowd starts shouting out restaurant names, excitedly. “Oh, who said gumbo! Raise your hand!” Ariel says excitedly, pointing at the crowd. “I want gumbo! I LOVE gumbo! I even like SAYING gumbo!”
“Then gumbo it is,” Doris says. “Skye, sign their forehead.”
“Yay! I knew there was a reason to carry a permanent marker!” Skye says happily. “Awww, she’s too cute to sign, Doris! I’ll sign her shirt, instead,” she says as she reaches the colorfully dressed older woman who’d suggested it. I pull out my phone just in time to get a snapshot of Skye kissing her on the cheek. She signs the purse that the woman holds out, happily.
“Skye’s been a sucker for white haired ladies since she met Tatiana,” Doris says, shaking her head with amusement. “Gumbo, ladies?”
“Gumbo!” we cheer.
***
“We’ve prepared a place to shower for each of you. Once inside, please remove your uniforms and place them in the container provided,” the woman guiding them says as she stops in front of two rooms. “This one will be for you, Star Spangled, and this one is for you, Kid Liberty. We’d like to thank you for—”
She’s cut off as a “poof” sounds and Emily in full uniform appears with two bags in her hands. “Kid!” she says. “Can I hug you, yet, or are you not sanitary?” she asks, making a face a second later after sniffing. “Not sanitary.”
“Thank you for stating the obvious, D.J.,” he says, dryly. He takes the bag she holds out to him, heading into the room that was provided. A few minutes later he steps out again, wearing a mask, an “I heart Divine Justice” shirt, and a pair of jean shorts.
“I would have liked a shirt like that too, Sweetie,” Jeanie complains as she steps out of her own changing room in a dress shirt and a pair of slacks.
“I haven’t made another one yet, but I will!” Emily says. She throws herself into Trent’s arms, kissing him quickly. “You’re BACK! We’ve missed you! Hey, since we’re down here, are we going to go visit Hy-bo?”
“Yeah,” he says, just holding her for a long second. “Just give me a bit.” She hugs him back for all of a second before squirming and patting his arm.
“Hey, too much PDA,” she says.
“A hug is not too much PDA,” he says as he lets go. “Mom, is a hug too much PDA?”
“Public display of affection? Mmm… possibly,” Jeanie says, “so where’s mine?” she demands, holding her arms out to Emily. Emily lets out a happy little sound, throwing herself into Jeanie’s arms as enthusiastically as she had Trent’s.
“It’s… nice to see how well you get along with your son’s girlfriend,” the SITEC woman says, smiling. “But as I was saying, thank you for using our services. We will make sure that everything is properly disposed of. I can escort you to the front, if you wish?”
“If you would be so kind,” Jeanie says, draping an arm over Emily’s shoulder, obviously planning on keeping her there. “And you can catch us up on everything that’s gone on while we were gone!”
“I know SOME of it,” Emily says, reaching out and taking Trent’s hand, “but I bet Hy-bo will know a lot more.”
***
“Mr. Cage, the Liberties have left. We’re about to dispose of their uniforms now. Is there anything you need to know before we commence?” Ms. Mace barely glances over at Thelma as she makes her announcement, much less at the messy Deadly Darlin’ shrine of an office. Thelma feels her hackles rise, so she turns back to her computer and goes back to work. The last thing she needs to do is irritate the ever-perfect Ms. Mace. She’s heard too many stories of unexpected sackings thanks to this woman.
“No, I don’t—wait,” Mr. Cage says. “Why would Central capes come to us to dispose of their uniforms?”
“I did not ask,” Ms. Mace says. “From the reaction of Divine Justice, they weren’t around for a while. Perhaps it was interstellar travel?”
“I haven’t heard anything about interstellar travel… but whatever it was, it might be worth studying before you destroy them. See if they have any moon dust on their clothes. That crap’s worth a ton of money.”
“Yes, sir. What should we do if there’s something else?”
“If it doesn’t come from this planet, get some samples. We’re looking for anything that could be turned into cold, hard, cash.”
“You mean funding for our ever-growing research?” Ms. Mace offers.
“Exactly.”
“I’ll see what I can find, sir.” She turns and closes the door without even a word offered to Thelma. Of course she did, Thelma thinks, they hate each other. She clicks another folder, wishing she could say something, only to stop and stare.
“I… think I might have found it,” she says.
“Are you sure? The last time you said that it was a recipe for some sort of mutation maker.”
“No, no, I think I’ve actually found it this time,” she says. “I’ll whip up a batch and we’ll find out for sure.” She jumps up from her chair and heads to the back corner to dig out her chemistry set. It’s dusty, but she ignores that fact as she sets up the beakers and digs through her chemical closet.
“Now, on to business. The nanobytes, if you would,” Mr. Cage says, turning to the mud creature that’s watching Thelma like a hawk.
“Not until we’re certain she’s got the right formula,” Clay says without bothering to look at him. “I came here for one reason, Cage, and one reason only. Until I get what I came for, you won’t get near the tech.”
“Why so cynical, my friend?” Mr. Cage asks, with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Who do you think was working for you all those years, Cage? It wasn’t really Penski. I know how you think.”
“How did you bypass our security system, Richard?” Mr. Cage asks. “It’s state of the art. We used several of the super machines to put it together.”
“I know. I helped build it,” Clay says, smugly. “Or have you forgotten how long I was here?”
“I’ve got it,” Thelma says, holding the vial of liquid up to the light. “Should we try it?”
“Sure,” Mr. Cage says. “Shoot him up. This mud glob look is disturbing.”
“Shouldn’t we get the nanobytes, first?” Thelma asks, looking from Mr. Cage to the blob on her table. “He doesn’t seem very trustworthy.”
“Oh, he brought them,” Mr. Cage says. “But she has a point. Show us the goods, Penski… no, really, what SHOULD I call you? Muddy? Fertilizer?”
“Ha ha,” Clay says sarcastically. “You’re such a wit, Cage. What IS your first name, anyway? I worked here for fourteen years and never heard it once.”
“Antony,” Mr. Cage says. “My name is Antony Cage.”
“Ant Cage? Hah. Yeah, no wonder we never heard it,” Clay says, moving
away from the canister to give them a glimpse. They’re glowing slightly and it shows through the glass window in the side. “Now, the catalyst, if you please.”
“Is that what this is?” Mr. Cage asks curiously as Thelma crosses the room with the syringe. “Some sort of catalyst to make the mud obey you?”
“Your scientific knowledge astounds me,” Clay says as Thelma shoots the liquid into his mud. For a second nothing happens. The room is deathly silent. Finally the mud starts to shudder, jerking wildly as the catalyst kicks in. Mr. Cage runs forward, grabbing the canister before it drops to the ground. When he looks up, he sees a naked imitation of Richard Penski sitting on the table.
“Put some pants on, man, you’re blinding me,” he says as he stands. “No one wants to see that, trust me.”
Thelma looks away while taking off her white lab coat and offering it to the naked man.
“Thank you,” Clay says as he shrugs it on. “A little small, but better than nothing. Now…” he looks at Mr. Cage, “my nanobytes.”
“Oh no you don’t. These are our pay for giving you your form back,” Mr. Cage says.
“Do you really think I won’t hurt you?” Clay asks. “I used to fantasize about punching you, Cage. You were always a tightfisted mogul.”
“There are two Liberties within hearing distance, Penski,” Mr. Cage says. “All I have to do is shout for help and they’ll come straight through that wall. Do you REALLY think you’re a match for that? I keep the nanobytes and you go on your merry way to do… whatever it is you do, pretending to be human. I’m really not interested in your strange little hobbies.”
Clay visibly hesitates before glaring at him. “Then at least give me your pants.”
“My pants?”
“Your pants,” Clay repeats. “Otherwise we see if I’m faster than your shout.”
“There are two of us here, Penski. You can’t take down both of us at the same time.”
Clay holds out his hands and the two watch as they grow exponentially larger. “Do you really believe that?”