Burden of Solace: Book 1 of the Starforce Saga

by Richard L. Wright

  “Your backup Lair looks less like a man-cave and more like a teenager’s basement hangout after his parents have been gone for the weekend.”

  “Yeah, I never really came back to clean it out. Too many memories.”

  Nate clomped over to the workbench and stepped out of the oversized boots. He started to place them on the bench but couldn’t find an empty spot, so he dumped them into a chair. He flicked on a computer and nodded approval when it began to boot up.

  “I’ll patch into the computers in the Lair and disable most of the helmet systems through that connection. Once I’ve done that, we should be relatively safe.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she agreed. “Any chance there’s something to drink here? Some sort of adult beverage, if you catch my meaning?”

  “Check the cabinet under the sink. Gabriel – Ironhorse - liked scotch,” he said, distracted. “I thought alcohol didn’t affect you anymore?”

  “This may be the only benefit of not being in my own body. I hope.”

  After locating the dusty bottle of 21-year-old Dalmore single malt, the hard part was finding a clean glass. She ended up settling for the least-filthy one and poured a couple of fingers of the amber fluid. Like her grandfather, Cassie preferred her whiskey Irish, but at least this was the good stuff.

  After savoring the burn from that first sip, she began to explore the warehouse space. The windows were painted over, so they offered no clue what part of town they were in. She moved back near Nate and found a stool, dragging it around to sit next to the work bench.

  “Okay,” Nate said from his position at the keyboard. “That’s done. We can breathe again. By the way, I love your fingers. So nimble. Typing with them is like magic.”

  “Glad you like them. So, what’s the plan? How do we straighten this out?”

  He looked up from his efforts with the computer, distracted.

  “I guess I need to contact the Committee, let them know what’s happened.”

  The idea of dealing with XAC riled Cassie. Even setting aside her recent run-in with their Enforcers, it was their fault they were in this mess. If they hadn’t forced Nate to confront Ballantine… Unfortunately, that water was way past the bridge now.

  Nate dug through the jumble on the bench, plugging various parts into the computer’s ports. After some fiddling, he pulled a microphone from a junk bin and plugged that in as well.

  “Okay, I’ve patched us into the Lair’s communications systems. Initiating a secure link to XAC now.”

  “Is this a video call?” she asked. “Will they be able to see us?”

  “No. That’s probably for the best.”

  Cassie had started to wonder if that was true, when a synthesized voice came from the computer’s speakers.

  “Exohuman Affairs. Identify.”

  “Guardian Identification One Seven Five”

  “Awaiting authentication.”

  “Jeez, these guys have seen too many spy movies,” Cassie muttered into her glass, which somehow was almost empty now.

  “Authenticate Golf India November Alpha,” Nate said, enunciating each word carefully.

  There was silence on the line for several seconds. Cassie raised an eyebrow.

  “Who’s Gina?” she asked. Nate waved off the question, but she added it to the list of things to talk about later. Assuming there was a later.

  “Authentication received. Voiceprint anomaly detected. Please hold.”

  Cassie’s fists clenched. How could he convince them he was who he said he was? Did they have procedures for this kind of thing? Was there even a ‘kind of thing’ that this was? The audio connection clicked several times and a human voice came on the line.

  “This is Agent Segura. Because we cannot validate your voiceprint, I’ll need you to authenticate level 2.”

  “I don’t have access to my key at this time. There’s been... an incident.”

  “I see. Understand that your identity is unverified. If you are not the asset designated Guardian 175 then you must terminate this call immediately. Failure to do so will result in severe penalties. Do you wish to proceed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. What is the incident you wish to report?”

  “Before I begin, this involves Level 7 security. Do you require escalation before I read in?”

  “Negative. I am cleared for Level 7.”

  “Agent, this involves Section 154. Again, do you require escalation?”

  There was a pause before Agent Segura finally responded.

  “Negative. I’ve flagged this call and stopped recording. Proceed.”

  “I was dispatched to terminate a lethal target, Martin Ballantine, slotted as a Dominator. Target manifested a previously unknown ability to transfer identities between bodies. The target is now in possession of my body and my abilities.”

  There was another pause.

  “And you?”

  “I am inhabiting the body of a third person - Dr. Cassidy Whelan, an unregistered exo known to the committee and under, uh, special dispensation. Her identity is currently inhabiting the body of the target Ballantine. It is urgent that Enforcers apprehend and subdue the person pretending to be Guardian 175 before he causes any harm.”

  “And is the target, I mean Dr. Whelan, is he, er, she there with you?”

  “Yes.”

  There was an even longer pause this time. A message popped up on one of the monitors. Nate read it and mouthed a curse as the XAC agent spoke.

  “Can I place you on hold for a moment?”

  “So you can complete the trace on this call?”

  “Uh, no. I just need to consult with someone.”

  “No, you don’t. If you needed to escalate then you would transfer me. You don’t believe me. You think I’m Dr. Whelan and that I’m working with Ballantine now. You think this is all a ruse and you’re trying to determine our location so you can send Enforcement agents.”

  There was silence on the line. Another message popped up on the screen.

  “Agent Segura, you’re making a huge mistake. And if the man pretending to be me - wearing my uniform and using my powers - if he hurts anyone, then that’s going to be your responsibility.” Nate broke the connection.

  “Yeah, they’re such pals,” Cassie groused. “What, with all the threats and kidnapping and such.”

  He looked up, wearing a completely different bitchy look on her face this time.

  “You got a better idea? ‘Cause I’m running low on them and I’ve just about had enough of your negativity.”

  She was surprised by the intensity of his outburst. He was usually so calm and controlled. She wished she could read his emotions.

  Oh, she thought.

  “Nate, you’re picking up on my emotions - my anger at XAC for what they tried to make you do, what the Enforcers put me through. Eventually, you’ll learn to sort out what’s yours and what’s coming at you from other people.”

  He started to say something, something sharp from his expression, then caught himself. He went back to typing on the computer.

  “Eventually. You make it sound like we’re stuck this way.”

  Cassie took a minute to think before answering. Everything had changed and their normal way of thinking didn’t quite apply anymore.

  “I’ve got Martin’s powers. At least I think I do. I should be able to swap us. Then I’d be in my body and you’d be in his.”

  “You heard Ballantine. It took him years to control that ability. We don’t have that kind of time. He has to be stopped now. And since XAC refuses to believe that the guy in the suit isn’t me...”

  Cassie laid a hand across his, stopping the increasingly forceful clicking of keys.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? Never mind that he’s out there, flying around in your body and the danger he presents. It matters more to you that he’s out there being the Guardian, being the symbol you created.”

  Nate didn’t answer. He withdrew his hands from the keyboard, sliding t
hem out from under her touch. He looked down at them, turning them over in close examination.

  “I’ve spent years developing relationships, gaining the trust of this city, my city. That trust lets me do so much good, including cheering up little girls recovering in the hospital. And all that will come undone the first time that bastard hurts someone.”

  She went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to help him. She just didn’t know how.

  He pushed some of the component litter aside and moved one of the boots to the bench. He started popping off cover panels and exposing the inner workings.

  “Let’s see if I’ve got enough stuff here to make a scaled down version of the boots. If I reduce the thrust, they can be smaller. Some maneuvering thrusters would be nice, too. And I think...”

  He dug in a bin of parts and pulled out what looked like a motorcycle helmet infested with electronic spiders.

  “Yes! One of my prototype helmets. If the parts printer is still working, I can crank out a suit and helmet to fit me, I mean, you. Crap, this is confusing.”

  “No shit. Maybe we should go with things as they are now. This, as disgusting as it may be, is now ‘my’ body. And that one is ‘yours’. Having said that, I better not catch you - how did you put it? Taking liberties?”

  Nate nodded. “Agreed. So, yeah, I need a uniform and helmet that fits me. The new me.”

  “Why?”

  The computer beeped and he leaned over to type a couple of commands.

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you need to make a suit and helmet for my body?”

  “What happened to the whole ‘things as they are now’ agreement?”

  “Nomenclature. Semantics. Answer the question.”

  He gave a heavy sigh, tossing a tool onto the bench.

  “Because I have to stop him. There’s no telling how much havoc he can create, or how many people he might kill.”

  “But why you?”

  “Because this is my fault. He has my powers.”

  “Exactly. He has them and you don’t. Look, I get the whole ‘using your powers for good’ thing, I really do. But you don’t have those powers anymore.”

  “But I do have your powers, and your blasts may be the only thing capable of stopping him.

  “So... We’re on the run from an evil version of yourself and your solution is to dress up as a female Guardian?”

  He held out his hands, examining the bracelets as his eyes went distant.

  “Actually, I was thinking I’d stick with black. It looks good on you.”

  CHAPTER 28

  It was going to be another warm one, Bill Walsh decided. It was barely nine and he was starting to sweat, even in the shade of the rooftop access door. He looked at his watch as he crushed the second cigarette under his heel. It wasn’t like Nate to be late and Walsh had never had to text him about it before.

  He spotted a speck moving through the morning sky in a meandering path. The speck grew closer, doing loops and barrel rolls as it made its way across the city.

  “Somebody’s in a good mood this morning.”

  The gray figure stopped and hovered for a moment, then made a straight run for the rooftop. He came in fast and slammed into the tar and gravel surface, going down to one knee and bracing himself with an extended hand. Chips of granite and rock dust flew up around him. Walsh could only imagine what it must have felt like to the high muckity-mucks in the top floor offices. The exo stood and brushed the dust from his hands and knees.

  “I think my bosses would rather you didn’t do that over their heads.”

  Guardian 175 tossed his head, a dismissive gesture if Walsh had ever seen one. Rather than explore whatever had crawled up his friend’s butt today, Walsh got right to the point.

  “Something, or somebody made a mess of Martin Ballantine’s house last night. You know anything about that?”

  The Guardian crossed his arms. “That was me. I’ve been authorized by the government to terminate him. Unfortunately, he got away. That bitch, Cassidy Whelan, helped him escape. She’s alive, by the way. Now she’s on my list too.”

  Walsh blinked. Then he blinked again. Why was Nate talking like this? He looked around to see if there was someone nearby. Maybe Nate was playing a part for the benefit of some eavesdropper?

  “Uh, okay. Wait. What? Terminate? As in kill?”

  Suddenly the mirrored visor loomed close over his face. Close indeed.

  “Yes. It’s an exohuman thing. You Normals don’t need to be involved. Put out a warrant or whatever you call it, for everyone to be on the lookout for those two. Then let me know when you find them. I’ll do the rest.”

  He turned to walk away, with a dramatic flair worthy of a bad Broadway production.

  “Sure. A warrant or whatever. So, I guess you’ll be too busy for the award ceremony tomorrow?”

  The Guardian stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Award?”

  “Yeah, the Real Heroes event at Centennial Park. I’ll let the Commissioner know you’re tied up and can’t present the awards. She’s probably already got somebody lined up as a backup. Although Marissa’s going to be disappointed. She’s gonna hold you to that promise for a ride.”

  The Guardian was still for a moment. Then his head nodded, slowly.

  “No, I’ll be there. I think it’s good for the city to see their favorite hero. It’ll be televised, right?”

  “Yeah. Local channels and streamed on the web. Starts at 6:00, so they probably want you there early, say 5:30.”

  “That’ll do quite nicely. Thank you, detective.”

  He crouched, leapt into the air, and was gone.

  Walsh stood and waited until the gray-clad figure had disappeared from sight before lighting another cigarette.

  “What the hell is going on now?”

  *

  Martin Ballantine was enjoying his new body. Oh, his old one was nice enough - lean, fit and well-maintained, rather like an expensive sports car. But this one was on a whole different level - like a fighter jet had mated with a battleship. He looked down and saw a small group of young women posing for selfies outside the Georgia Aquarium. Tourists, probably. He decided to put in an appearance.

  There was a chorus of Oh-Em-Gee’s and they swarmed around him, asking for autographs and photos. He made sure his hands were firmly cupped on their asses as each posed with him. Before he flew off, he had a room number at the Ritz Carlton and a date to see one particularly eager pair of ladies later that night.

  Oh yes, in this body he didn’t have to hide what he could do - or what he wanted. He could do whatever he liked, and there was no one to stop him.

  Except for Her.

  Ah, Cassie. Both the physical her, with those unexpected powers, and the personality that was now driving his old sports car. The blast the Guardian had generated from her hands was quite something. Not enough to harm him, but it did pack quite a wallop. He’d rather not have to put up with that nuisance again, but the real danger resided in his old body. Only Cassie, who now held the reins to his old powers, could undo his escape by switching him back to his old body. He still wasn’t sure how she had intervened in the transfer and ended up in his body, but that was of little consequence. Once he had destroyed that body, he could spend the rest of his days living as a Titan - a god among mortals. Of course, gods require worship. And sacrifices. Virgins would do nicely.

  Tomorrow’s little fete would be a good time to announce his new reign. Maybe his two problems would show up. This time he’d be prepared for whatever that little redheaded bitch could throw at him. Now all he needed to decide was whether he would make her watch while he enjoyed her body or kill her while whispering what he would do with that body once she was gone.

  Yes, his future was looking more and more fun. The possibilities were endless.

  CHAPTER 29

  “Nate, you are such a pig. To think I actually believed you were different, a gentleman.”

  “Cassie, it
’s armor. It ties in with the defensive force field generated by the new belt to--”

  “I don’t care if it controls time and whitens teeth. I look like a stripper.”

  Cassie could have dealt with the fitted body suit. She now knew the rocket boots were a necessity and he had done wonders reducing their size. She honestly liked the force field belt he had designed. It was the corset and fishnet hose that made her cringe.

  “Says you,” Nate replied. Balled-up fists went to hips, and Cassie wondered if she had always looked that childish and petulant when she was pissed.

  “What are you, twelve? And why is it on the outside?”

  He glared at her from those green eyes. More and more during the day, his emotions were becoming increasingly intertwined with hers. She heaved a heavy sigh and tried a different approach. She sat down on the worn couch. She’d read somewhere that sitting down reduced the sense of conflict in an argument.

  “Okay, I apologize. I’m not a technical wiz, so explain to me again why the corset--”

  “Armor,” he corrected.

  “... the armor, then. Why does it have to be on the outside?”

  He rolled his eyes and Cassie decided that if she ever got back into her own body, she would spend some time watching herself recorded on video to see if these mannerisms were his or hers.

  “These metallic strips in the armor act as a distribution grid for the force field, spreading it to protect your vital organs. Same with the grid-work that covers your legs. Without them, Ballantine could take you, me, down with one punch.”

  “Boning,” she interjected.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The strips. They’re called boning. And they’re hella uncomfortable.”

  “Well, you won’t be the one wearing them,” he said. “I will. You can ditch the whole uniform after we get back to normal.”

  Normal. When did everything get so monumentally fucked up that the definition of normal only required her to reside in her own body? Lately, life felt like a carnival ride, a house of mirrors where reality was the twisted images and the so-called normal things were the illusions.