Attack Doll 2: Junior Prime

by Douglas A. Taylor

Chapter 13

 

  After a battle, Wizzit's first priority is normally to put any injured Primes into healing comas as soon as possible. He's sometimes a pain about it, but I can certainly understand his thinking. After all, he's got only seven of us Primes, and we're frankly hard to replace. I mean, Padma's been with us for six months now, and she's only just coming up to speed. And two or three of us usually come back injured from any given battle. If he couldn't heal us up quick, protecting Earth from Enclave would be pretty near impossible.

  Didn't happen this time, though. The first words Wizzit said when we materialized in HQ were not, "Prepare for healing comas, kids!" Nope. Instead, they were, "Do not unblur yourselves! Repeat, do not unblur yourselves! All except you, Indigo."

  Now, it may be that you, sitting comfortably in your chair reading this, can easily figure out what was going on. As for me, I wasn't feeling so hot after being squished twice by Mr. Big, so I probably wasn't all that swift on the uptake. At the moment, the only thing I could think was, "Dang! I must be in really hot water!" So, even though my conscience was clear, I was more than a little worried when I unblurred. Standing in front of me were the impassive, glowing figures of my teammates . . . and my sister Angela, who was looking around wide-eyed at everything, wearing just a tee-shirt and panties.

  As soon as she realized her, uh, situation, Angie shrieked and tried to cover herself up. An instant later, she vanished as Wizzit evidently teleported her back to wherever it was that she had left the rest of her clothes.

  "Pretty girl," Mike commented. "Mean set of legs. Is she dating anyone, Trev?"

  I chuckled. "Back home, we have a term for girls like her, Orange. It's called 'jail-bait'. She's only seventeen, which means she's too young for you."

  Mike shrugged. "Age of consent in New Zealand is only sixteen."

  Frowning, I folded my arms across my chest. "Fine. We have another term for girls like her, and it's called 'she's my sister, so hands off'. Try anything with her, and if she doesn't kick your butt all the way to New Zealand, I will."

  Mike laughed his easy laugh. "No worries, mate. Hands off it is."

  "She is an awfully nice-looking bird, though," Toby chimed in regretfully.

  Trina had been looking around the lounge. "Wizzit, where is Red?" she suddenly asked.

  I glanced around. Shelley was indeed nowhere to be seen. I guess I had been too preoccupied to notice it before.

  "Red is overseeing the transfer of our prisoner to a more . . . secure location," Wizzit said. "It seems that Lily Lee's body temperature was dropping a little too rapidly on the Nansen Ice Sheet."

  "I didn't know we had a secure location," Mike muttered.

  "We do now. After our first unsuccessful attempts to capture Miss Lee, Prime Commander offered to build a stronghouse in a remote area of his ranch, specifically designed to contain Miss Lee or any other unaltered humans we might capture. Steel-reinforced concrete walls. It has no windows or doors; only way in or out is by teleportation."

  There was a flash of light, and suddenly Shelley was standing among us. "Don't unblur yet, Red," Wizzit warned her. "Bringing in Junior Prime Pink . . . now!"

  Another flash of light, and Angie was standing beside me. Her shoes and socks were in the crook of one arm as she drew up the suspenders of her band pants. I saw the blaster and Escrima stick poking out of one pocket. She looked up, startled, at my four teammates, and then she caught sight of me and seemed to relax a bit.

  "Hi, Trevor," she said nervously. "It's okay for me to call you Trevor now, isn't it?"

  "Sure thing, Angie," I said warmly, and I slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a side hug. I realized by now that Wizzit had had me unblur because the sight of a friendly face would make her feel more at ease. Besides, this was my baby sister, after all; I was happy to see that she was unharmed -- no obvious bruises or injuries, at least. "We use colors only when our shields are activated, but then we use only colors. No names ever, not even stuff like 'he' or 'she'."

  Angela nodded gravely as she bent to put her socks and shoes on. "Yeah, I had kind of figured that out."

  "So," I went on expansively, "I guess I had better make some introductions, hadn't I? You've already met Wizzit. Guys, this is my sister, Angela Chiao. Angie, this is, uh, . . ." I stopped, suddenly realizing how stupid this was going to sound. Still, as long as I had started . . . "This is Red, Orange, Green, and Blue."

  Angela rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks, big brother. Like I couldn't have figured that out on my own." She raised an hand dramatically to her forehead. "Oh, how will I ever keep all these names straight? It's too much!"

  Toby snickered, and that broke the ice; we all started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Shelley stepped forward and stuck out her hand. "Sorry, Angela," she said. "I know you know your brother Trevor is Prime Indigo, but the rest of us will have to continue to keep our identities secret from you, at least for the time being. Not that our names or faces would mean anything to you, naturally, but . . . just in case."

  Angela shook her hand. "Sure, I understand." Then she froze, and her eyes suddenly went wide. "Ohmigod! I just realized that you're a girl!" she exclaimed. She turned to look at me, covering her mouth with her hand in surprise. "Trevor, Red is a girl! I can't believe that . . . and you let me think . . . a-and Red is a girl!"

  "I'm a woman, actually," Shelley corrected her quietly, imperturbable as ever. "It has been a long time since I thought of myself as a girl." She paused, looking from Angela to me and back again. "So how did you figure it out?"

  "I -- I suppose I should have realized it before," Angie stammered. "I just didn't think about it at the time. When we were out there fighting the monster, I could hear . . . well, it must have been your real voices, not the fake ones that everyone always hears, and as I was shaking your hand, it suddenly occurred to me that . . ." She whirled and pointed an accusing finger at me. "And you! You told me that Red was this really cute guy, you snake!"

  I smiled and raised my hands in a show of innocence. "I told you no such thing. You're the one who said it, not me."

  Shelley had been nodding to herself this whole time, and really, Angie's explanation made a whole lot of sense. The voice alteration provided by our shields does not extend to Prime-to-Prime communications; otherwise, it could get really hard for us to identify each other by voice.

  Shelley stepped forward and placed a friendly arm around Angie's shoulders. "Misdirection is our friend," she said kindly. "We're a very small group, supported by no government organization of any kind. We have to rely on a good deal of secrecy. I have never intentionally lied about who I am, but I certainly don't mind being widely known as Eric the Red. If there were ever a worldwide search for Prime Red, I'd rather it would be a man-hunt instead of a woman-hunt."

  Angie was nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense." She turned to Toby. "So . . . you're from England, right?"

  "Got it in one," Toby agreed amiably.

  Now she turned to Trina. "And you're from . . . Russia?"

  I thought that was pretty perceptive of her, myself, because aside from dropping her articles, Trina's accent is not that strong at all. Not as strong as, say, Padma's. Trina simply nodded and said, "Da." She must have been, I guess you'd call it over-Russianizing her speech to make some sort of point, because she ordinarily never mixes Russian and English.

  Angie looked like she was feeling pretty sure of herself by now. "And Orange," she said, looking at Mike with a grin, "you've got to be from Australia!"

  I waited for him to growl or snort or make some other sign of disgust, because he hates to be mistaken for an Ozzie. He must have really liked Angie's looks, though, because he said cheerily, "Actually, love, I'm from New Zealand. But it's only a couple of thousand miles away; you're not too far off."

  "Oh, okay. Sorry." She tu
rned back to look at me. "So, big brother, why am I here, anyway?"

  I glanced at Shelley. "Uh . . . Red?"

  "I imagine that Wizzit wanted to make sure you were all right," Shelley said. "That was a pretty tough battle. Wizzit, can you induce a healing coma in her if necessary?"

  "Negatory on that," Wizzit chirped. "Wasn't built into the badge. Not enough power."

  Shelley looked at Angie. "So, are you okay?"

  "I'm a little banged up, but I'll be all right." Angela rotated her shoulders up and back experimentally, and then she winced. "I think I must have wrenched my back when I threw the Zoink at that girl."

  "Completing my scan . . ." Wizzit said. "Sensors show minor bruising up and down the body, along the arms, and on one side of the head. No sign of concussion. Small muscle tears along the lower and middle back. If I could induce a healing coma, you would be fine within five minutes. As it is, your body should repair itself within one or two days with no lingering issues. In the interim, you should be able to control any pain with commonly-available analgesics. Apply cold, then heat, then --"

  "Yeah, yeah," Angie interrupted. "I know how to treat sore muscles."

  "Your injuries should be easily explained by your very public fight with the Zoinks before you activated," Wizzit went on. "That's when most of them occurred, anyway. Speaking of which, you should prepare yourself to be interviewed by the press when you arrive home."

  "The press?" she asked uneasily. "Why?"

  By way of answer, Wizzit turned on the video display that we have running along one wall of the lounge. A perky young female sports anchor was speaking to the camera. "And I'm receiving word that we now know the identity of the heroic young woman who was involved in what became a very wild Browns-Steelers game this afternoon." The anchor was replaced by a long-distance shot of the marching band being menaced by Zoinks. Suddenly, one of the tiny figures came dashing out towards a knot of Zoinks and kids.

  The camera quickly zoomed in on Angela's determined face as she hurriedly stripped off her band jacket, threw it aside, and smashed a Zoink in the face with a jumping sidekick. "She has been identified as a member of a local high school marching band that had been invited to play at this afternoon's game, and seems to have no connection with the Primes, who also showed up for the game."

  Another clip, this time of Angie hitting a Zoink in the head with a jumping backwheel. The Zoink went down, but unfortunately, so did she. "Great!" muttered Angie. "They had to show the one time I fell down." I could sympathize. A jumping backwheel can be a pretty flashy and devastating move, but in the excitement of a real fight it's easy to lose your balance and fall on your butt. Not something you'd want broadcast on national TV.

  The clip continued, showing the Zoinks swarming her, and then me rescuing her, while the voiceover continued, "We are currently withholding the girl's name because she is believed to be a minor, but we are attempting to contact her family and hope to be first on the scene with a live interview." The scene then switched to a video of Dawg Face throwing cups of beer, and Wizzit turned the picture off.

  "So they'll be contacting my family?" Angela's eyes suddenly got wider. "Trevor!" she exclaimed. "I just realized . . . Mom and Dad must be worried sick! They came up to watch the game, and I was supposed to go back home with them! What am I going to do?"

  "Um . . ." I said helpfully.

  "It's all right, don't panic," Shelley stepped in smoothly. "The fight hasn't been over all that long, maybe ten minutes at most. There has been a lot of confusion. They probably haven't left the area, and maybe they aren't even all that worried about you yet. Is there any way you can contact them to let them know you're all right and to find out where they are?"

  "Well, I guess I could text my mom . . . except that my phone is in my trumpet case, which I hope Julie put on the instrument truck for me," Angie finished in dismay.

  "What is your mother's cellphone number?" Wizzit asked. Then, before she could reply, he said, "Never mind. I retrieved it from Trevor's phone." He paused. "I have just sent her a message saying, 'Angie, using a friend's phone. Where are you guys?'"

  We waited for a tense minute, and then Wizzit said, "She replied, 'Dock 20 parking lot, east corner. Where are you?' I am replying, 'Stay put, be there in a sec.'" Another pause. "I have located a secluded area nearby that will shortly be completely unobserved for about . . . ten seconds. Prepare to teleport as soon as that area is clear, in approximately thirty seconds."

  Angie heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks a bunch, Wizzit!" She glanced around at the others, then looked up uncertainly at me. "Big brother," she asked quickly in Korean, "would it be safe for me to speak to you in this language? Could any of the others understand us?"

  I thought for a moment. "This one would be just as safe," I said, switching to Mandarin, which I knew that she and I were both more comfortable in. "Wizzit will hear and understand regardless, but no one else. And Wizzit will not tell them. What did you want to say to me, Younger Sister, that you do not want the others to hear? I will not keep secrets from my teammates."

  "Did Red really mean it when she said I was trying out for a spot with the Primes?"

  I shook my head. "Probably not, I am afraid," I told her as gently as I could. Poor kid, she looked so hopeful that I didn't have the heart to tell her that Wizzit made those decisions, not Shelley. Wizzit, who was undoubtedly listening in and understanding every word we were saying. "Red had to tell the reporters something to explain your presence, and that, I think, was merely a convenient lie."

  Angie's face fell. "That is what I feared. I would so much like to be a Prime. It was so exciting helping you today!"

  "It is not all fun and games," I warned her. "We have to train very hard, we get hurt a lot, and you know how Mother and Father disapprove of the fact that I do not go to college."

  She nodded glumly. "I understand."

  "Teleporting in five seconds," Wizzit announced.

  "Thanks, Wizzit!" Angie said in English. "And the rest of you guys -- thanks! It was great meeting you all!"

  "My blaster, little sis?" I said, holding out my hand.

  "Oh, sorry! Here you go." She deposited both blaster and Escrima stick in my hand.

  "Remember, don't tell anybody about what you've seen," Shelley warned her. "Nothing about the Primes. Especially on TV."

  "I won't. 'Bye." And then she vanished from our view.