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Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. A big thanks goes out to Cathy who proofed and generally made this readable. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Soviet Georgia 1975

The lonely, snow covered hills tall ice frosted trees hid the small, slim figure watching the train, below in the valley, puffing its way southward. Far had she traveled before being led here. She shivered, not because of the cold wind whispering though the trees, but because she now understood, only too well, what her friend used to say about riding the luck. Something really bad was about to happen down there, to that train full of people. As much as her instincts screamed for her to try to help, what could she do? Any one of thousand things could cause an accident, and although she knew beyond a doubt that a terrible disaster was looming, she had no idea whatsoever as to exactly what or how to prevent it.

Just thinking about her friend, whose gift she had inherited, caused her heart to tighten in painful spasms. Even after all the months that had passed since her entire world had come crashing in upon her, she was consumed by her grief and tears. Hugging her thin body, still wasted from the purging the tracking chemicals she’d been injected with, she stifled a soul tortured wail of grief.

Slowly, she regained control of herself. Those who’d caused the loss of her dear friends would pay. Above all, those responsible for her brother‘s death would suffer dearly. He’d been the last of her family, and now she was all alone. He was the reason why, despite the cry for revenge that beckoned her, she was determined that justice be done instead. Always her brother taught that, despite it coming from a comic book, ’With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility’ were words to live by. That they were all like Knights of the Round Table, protectors and role models.

About her, soft flakes began falling once more, covering her in a still white shroud. Her luck all but shouted at her. Shaking the frozen raiment away, she lightly hopped to the top of the icy crust. She ran lightly across the snow like a figure from myth and legend, to meet her fate, as fire and thunder found the iron machine down the hill below. This was the one place her watchers would never think to look for her. It was time to rejoin the human race. Behind her, the wind, and drifting flakes, left no traces of her passing.
 

*          *          *
 
Bikipedia:

Project Meridian; Captain Blazzar and The Rocketeers

Following the formal retirement of Major Victory, in protest over various anticommunist senators’ witch-hunts, and the other heroes that followed his example, the Pentagon found itself in an unpleasant situation. WWII had conclusively proved that supra-humans could be an enormous force multiplier in any conflict.

However, now it found itself without the services of those it had grown to depend on, because of the exodus. Falling back on good old American ingenuity, they decided to make their own. Despite the inter-service fight that followed, for the sole control of supra-human research, the Air Force presented the best case for being the most scientifically oriented in the mid 1950’s. The Navy, because of its different requirements, was permitted to run its own program, but it was understood that the Air Force would lead the national effort.

Next came the recruitment drive, searching for prospective candidates. Rigorous testing, and other screening techniques, revealed that supra-humans, able to match Major Victory’s level of ability, were extremely rare. Moreover, initial Ultra-soldier experiments revealed that the best results came from those that had already expressed what was being called the supra-human gene, or had yet to manifest it fully.

Despite some rare successes, the number of catastrophic failures convinced scientists that adults were not the best test subjects. They evolved the theory that the best subjects would be youngsters with the potential but had yet to manifest themselves. The problem was there was no way to screen for such specimens with the available technology. Researchers settled for next best thing; those who were just emerging from their metamorphosis.

Project Meridian was designed from the beginning to recruit, indoctrinate and enhance suitable youngsters for the purposes of National Defense. A number of approaches were tried, but the experimental Z-Ray 3 developed by the youthful prodigy Dr. Albert McClellan became the method of choice, after a string of relative successes.

The Z-Ray series (1-9) was an attempt not to further mutate the subject, but rather to energize or super-charge their existing powers and abilities. The drawback was the significant amounts of radiation that was a byproduct.

Much has been said of the lack of information about the participants of these early experiments. Although the Z-Ray experiments’ successes went on to become part of the Eagle Squadron, the Official US Supra Team during the 1960’s, no mention can be found of the failures.

Rumors and officials off the record, tell of truly horrendous fates for those failures, who were but children. Often, orphans were signed over to the government without question by their guardians. Many simply could not deal with these children’s mutations, and special needs. These unwilling child subjects, are forgotten victims of the Cold War, supra-power, arms race.

In 1962, when the American Eagle Squadron and the Soviet Red Guards clashed over Cuba, during the missile crisis, the world was just seconds from War World Three. It was this incident, more than any other, that pushed the world’s powers into negotiations that eventually led to founding of the UN moderated ULTIMATE in 1973, United Law-enforcement Tribunal for International Metahuman Affairs, Terrestrial and Extraterrestrial.

It had shocked Pentagon planners, that members of the Soviet Red Guard Supra-Team, while not as individually as powerful as their Eagle counterparts, were more numerous. Plans were drawn up to expand Project Meridian, but were left unimplemented because of political pressure from the UN, as well as the rest of the world. Research continued, but at a slower pace.

In 1969, the go ahead to fully implement the project was given by the White House, following the initial Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty (SALT) talks. It was felt that the US needed something more to bring to the bargaining table, to force a more favorable agreement.

The recruitment process was different from that previously used, given the change in attitude of the American public. The Anti-war movement was in full swing, as well as a growing distrust of heavy-handed government.

Dr. McClellan himself suggested using a “comic book” like Supra Team format. “What Kid doesn’t dream of being a superhero, at least once in their lives?” He asked.

His approach added a level of motivation to the experiment’s subjects, but also fueled a propaganda effort that printed grossly edited versions of their missions. The comic book was quite popular, and had generally acceptable art work, given it was government subsidized. Its popularity faded as better written, less obviously propaganda stories, attracted a more mature audience.

The subjects picked for Dr. McClellan’s Team included brothers Alan and Gus Glenn, Alicia Mercer, Douglas Knight, Jeff Fuller, and Joyce Sturm.

Alan Glenn: age 10 Mutation: super speed, enhanced physical prowess, and healing.

Gus Glenn: Age 14 Mutation: energy control, expulsion, and flight.

Alicia Mercer: Age 12 Mutation: greatly enhanced agility, flexibility, night vision and speed.

Douglas Knight: Age 13 Mutation: heighten awareness, hand eye coordination, and toughness.

Jeff Fuller: Age 10 Mutation: Abnormally lucky and enhanced physical prowess.

Joyce Sturm: Age 8 Mutation: greatly enhanced physical prowess, strength and intelligence.

They rejected team names such as Teen Eagles, Hero Cadets and others. Staging a mass strike, they pushed for the name Rocketeers, not surprising given how the space program dominated the news during this time.

Similar strikes also occurred during the assigning of individual code names. The Air Force backed down due to a number of issues, but primarily because, as one officer put it, “Well, it was a lot better than what we had anyways.”

The oldest, Gus Glenn, became the leader of the team, Captain Blazzer. Alan, his younger brother, as Vroom; Alicia Mercer, the Cat; Douglas Knight, the Sharpshooter; Jeff Fuller, as Fortune; and Joyce Sturm, as Sensation.

Their first exposures to Z-Ray 6 resulted in satisfactory increases in powers and abilities, by an average factor of seven. Little in the way of side effects made themselves known, with the possible exception of Vroom, who gained the reputation of being clumsy, and a klutz.

His super speed gave him the ability to keep from causing too much in the way of inadvertent damage, but some of his high-speed damage control was found to be greatly amusing, to onlookers.

The Rocketeers debuted in 1971, a year after their selection. They were generally effective and popular, outmatching their foes with their augmented powers. The dark clouds did not appear until two years later, when questions arose about the children’s welfare. To many, it looked as if they were nothing else than a weapon for the Air Force to pull out when needed, and then stuff back into their box.

Those concerns gained creditability when The Rocketeers were defeated, and several members injured, by the menace of Leviathan. Under pressure to contain the damage the huge unstoppable creature was causing, General Curtis Lafitte ordered Dr. McClellan to use the newest version, but completely untested, Z-Ray 9 upon the recovering Rocketeers. Although the scientist officially protested, he carried out the experiment, when it became clear that the General was going to go ahead, regardless of whether he resigned or not.

At first all seemed to be going well, until the last subject, Sensation, underwent the procedure. The exact details are unknown, but the experiment resulted in her death. That is when Captain Blazzar snapped. His Z-ray 9, augmented powers went wild, and he began blasting his way to General Lafitte’s office, whom he blamed for her death. With a complete disregard for the consequences, Captain Blazzar attacked anyone who got in his way.

Torn up by the death of their friend, the rest of The Rocketeers tried to stop Captain Blazzar‘s rampage. Completely berserk, he used a new power, gained from the Z-ray-9. Emitting an explosive energy pulse with the strength of a small atomic bomb, he badly damaged Area 61. He and Sharpshooter were killed, as well as badly injuring his brother, and Alicia Mercer, the Cat, who later died.

Conspiracy theorists, years later, claimed that is not what happened at all. Captain Blazzar had not died in the explosion. It was the intervention of Dr. McClellan, with the help of Sharpshooter and Fortune, that stopped his mega-manic killing spree.

According to the theorists, Fortune used an experimental dimensional portal, meant to imprison criminals too dangerous for normal prisons. Acting as a diversion, Sharpshooter, even though it cost him his life, managed to give his teammate the chance to get close enough to exile the out of control Captain Blazzer.

In both versions of the incident, Fortune, true to his name, walked away without a scratch. A year later, he committed suicide after suffering severe clinical depression because of the lost of his friends, that had been the only family he‘d ever known.

Vroom eventually recovered from his injuries and awoke from his coma, but lost his powers. Without those, the Air Force dropped him from the program into a foster home. Bitter about how he was treated, he ran away from the foster home early in 1975 and did not reappear, until making an appearance in 1989, to testify at the Senate Committee investigating the tragic incident. He has always refused to comment to the press, or agree to interviews, even after the truth came out.

Ironically, Leviathan, who had triggered this entire series of events, disappeared soon after defeating The Rocketeers. He did not reappear until months later in Central America, making General Lafitte’s decision to risk The Rocketeers, using the Z-Ray 9 experimental procedure, questionable.

The Meridian Project was forever closed, after the signing and ratification of the ULTIMATE treaties in 1975. Rumors persist that ultra-soldier programs are actively being pursued, regardless of government assurances that all such are things of the past.
 

*          *          *
 
Chapter One

Area 61
September 1, 2008

General Robert Laramie stood before the massive monitor in Area 61 command center. Technically Area 61 didn’t exist and this was only a small storage facility for the Office of Archives and Research. In reality, it was the Air Force’s research and development center for Ultra-Soldiers. They’d came perilously close to losing control of the project after that fool Lafitte screwed up back in 1974.

The bad judgment in using the Z-Ray 9 on The Rocketeers not only caused serious damage to the base, but also trashed his career. General Laramie was well aware that the projects under his command were of debatable legality.

Research on Supra-humans wasn’t prohibited, but was frowned upon. That was to prevent another Supra-human arms race like what happened in the Fifties though the Seventies. Investigations by Dr. McClellan’s team were still continuing, but were limited by prohibitions against experiments being conducted on human subjects as per the ULTIMATE treaty protocols. Limitations that the General admitted were being pushed to the letter.

McClellan might be a world-class flake, but he was one of the most brilliant men on the planet. His discoveries and inventions in genetics, biophysics and high-energy physics had earned him a suitcase full of patents, and won him not one, but five, Noble Prizes.

For the purposes of Area 61, he had any number of contingency plans for projects to produce Supra-humans to protect the United States and its interests. As the leader in the field, when he asks to speak to the commanding officer on a matter of importance, that officer had better listen.

Determined to maintain his command presence no matter how many Noble prizes this civilian had won, he all but demanded, “Why am I here Doctor? I’m a busy man.”

The balding scientist pushed up his glasses, still looking surprisingly youthful given he was on the high side of sixty. He clicked the remote, causing a graphic to appear on the big screen. “As you know General, our power is provided by a pair of fusion reactors. This morning we took note of a power drain that, at first, appeared trivial.”

The graphic showed the beginning of the power loss, and the sharp rise as time passed.

“Routinely, we traced it back to its cause. That took us a few hours, during which the drain continued to increase to worrisome proportions. We traced it back to the high security vaults, where sensitive or dangerous projects are stored, specifically, back to Vault Nine.” The old scientist said, rather nervously.

“Stop beating around the bush, Doctor. What is stored in Vault Nine?” General Laramie demanded.

“That would be the prototype, Looking Glass projector.” He replied, wiping his sweaty palms.

“In the past six hours the power demand to Looking Glass has jumped by a factor of ten. If this curve continues, our reactors will no longer be able to keep pace with the demand and the dimensional gateway will collapse. The Estimated Time of Wormhole Failure (ETWF) is three weeks bearing in mind that approximation will change as more data becomes available.”

The General studied the changing graphic. “Why would that be a problem Doctor? What kind of damage will this collapse of yours cause?”

Clearing his throat, the Doctor blinked before replying. “The artificial wormhole has been stable for almost thirty-five years. For it to collapse in this manner, more energy has been pumped into it from the inside, destabilizing the energy flow. There shouldn’t be any release of excess energy into our space time continuum, if my calculations are correct.”

Feeling tired of the run-around, the General barked, “Please come to the point Doctor McClellan. Just why should I be concerned about this?”

With his hands visibly shaking, he took a sip of water. “Captain Blazzar. We trapped him with the Project Looking Glass prototype thirty-four years ago. For him to generate enough energy to force open the gate, he has gotten more powerful. A lot more powerful than he was before. Enough so that he can produce more power than our two fusion reactors. The last time he generated explosive blasts on the order of one kiloton. Based on my equations, he will be able to exceed that by several orders of magnitude.”

“I see Doctor. You’re telling me we are about to have one of the most powerful supra-humans in recent history, dropping into the middle of my super secret military base? Is that correct?”

Clearing his throat nervously, the Doctor replied, “Yes General. If you’ll remember, he was on a berserk, insane killing spree.” Looking down at his notes, he continued, “The final count was 151 dead, including four of his own friends. Several hundred others were injured, including his only brother.”

The General recalled, “Yes. Alan Glen, Vroom the speedster, and the only surviving member of The Rocketeers. Very well, Doctor. As of this moment I’m reactivating Project Meridian on my own authority. I’ll have official written confirmation by tomorrow.”

Over his shoulder, he commanded his aide Captain Syn, “Alert my flight crew, and the Pentagon. I need an emergency meeting with the Director of OAR, and the Joint Chiefs ASAP.”

Turning back to the owlish blinking scientist, he directed, “While I’m gone it’s up to you to get the ball rolling. The database of suitable candidates is constantly updated, so finding participants shouldn’t be a problem. What we don’t have is someone we knows how to train a teenage supra-team.”

Decisively, he decided, “Get Alan Glenn. He has experience, and knows our opponent.”

Dr. McClellan stammered, “But he publicly denounced the entire Meridian program, and hates anything to do with the military.”

General Laramie gave Dr. McClellan a flint eyed stare, “You’re a multiple Nobel Prize winner Doctor. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
 

*          *          *
 
Chapter Two

Charlotte NC
September 2, 2008
ETWF: 20 Days

Dr. Courtney Hathaway sweltered in the black, government SUV, that came with all the extras, including the required, dark tinted windows. Even with the air conditioner roaring at full blast, it couldn’t compete with the sultry, southern, summer day. Flicking out a compact mirror, she checked her makeup. This had better be worth it.

Addressing the aging project leader in the front seat, she asked. “Tell me again Doctor McClellan, why am I dressed like this?” She waved her hands at her tight red dress, more suitable to clubbing, or walking the street, than for convincing a unwilling, ex-superhero to become part of an illegal experiment, outlawed by international treaties.

Not looking up from his laptop, where he was watching news coverage of a local superhero’s exploits, he replied, “You see, Dr. Hathaway, Alan Glenn, AKA Vroom, lost his supra-human abilities after nearly dying from severe injuries, right after being exposed to Z-ray 9.

At the time, we surmised that his body, in trying to save his life, burned-out his powers. However, the Air Force dropped him from the program, when it was determined he no longer was supra-human. Against my recommendation, I might add. The phenomenon needed more study.

“Back to your question Doctor Hathaway, we have no idea if his powers have returned or not. It has been known to happen before, and one of Mr. Glenn’s talents was accelerated healing. He also has a demonstrated lack of respect for authority, which wouldn’t make his failure to report his correct status to ULTIMATE, as required by law, a surprise to anyone.”

She quickly identified the web site Dr. McClellan was watching and, using her own laptop, quickly located the recorded incident. Using her own specialized programs, she’d designed herself, she watched the entire clip in fast forward. Maybe, in his day, Dr. McClellan had been a wiz-kid, but her own mental functions and powers were superior to anyone she had yet met. It was easy to multi-task, and listen to him meander at the same time.

Courtney was ‘miffed’ that someone of her superiority was left playing nothing more than eye candy. She was responsible for procuring the project’s candidates. Courtney wasn’t anticipating any problems, but had found herself detoured for this experiment of Dr. McClellan‘s.

Still, the Doctor’s plan did have some merit. If Alan Glenn’s powers had returned, they should be able to determine that, since Vroom was known as a do-gooder, boy scout, risking his life for others. In addition, males were possessive, and if he thought he saved her life, that could give her more leverage into controlling his behavior.

She reviewed and summarized the taped news footage as the good Doctor spoke. A group of robbers, using military style tactics, tried to hijack an armored car. Dixie Belle, a star spangled blue clad heroine, intervened and easily crashed their party.

Courtney considered that, perhaps this Dixie Belle could perhaps be Alan Glenn, but immediately discarded the thought. Although gender switches connected to supra-humans weren’t unknown, this bimbo didn’t exhibit any of Vroom’s super speed powers, besides being 20 years too young.

She was inhumanly strong and agile, and she did make short work of even military trained and armed criminals. Impressive perhaps, but she was not a world-class talent like those who’d been exposed to the Z-ray. After a moment’s reflection, she decided that Doctor McClellan’s interest in the star-studded, blue suited floozy, was because of how curvaceously she filled out her uniform.

Snorting at his lecherousness, she knew it was only typical male behavior. Looking out of the dark tinted windows at the building across the street, she rolled her eyes at the sign. A hot rod pulled up front, and an aging man she recognized as Alan Glenn, climbed out.

Oh please! Not another walking testosterone factory, and who was apparently in a mid-life crisis as well. She could only wince, seeing the number of NASCAR signs, and racing oriented businesses she’d seen since leaving the airport. Like many in this hick city, he was just another man who was more like an overgrown child playing with his toys, than an adult.

Dr. McClellan nodded his head and their team prepared to get started. She opened her door and stepped out. It was show time.
 

*          *          *
 
Alan Glenn pulled up in his classic ’68 Fastback Mustang, beside the large custom neon sign advertising his business, Rocket’s Speed Shop. It was his way of honoring his fallen friends and family, but the business also supported him and his dozen or so employees. They provided customized engine work and parts for the thriving racing market near Lowe’s Motor Speedway.

John, his shop foreman, waved as the rest of his crew headed to the time clock, while Susan, his girl Friday, smiled at him as she entered her office. In reality, Alan left most of the day to day running of the shop to them now a days. In the beginning, he’d been right down there in the pits, busting knuckles with the rest of the guys. He’d jumped between turning wenches, to martini luncheons, while building his business.

Twenty years of hard work had paid off, and now, if he didn’t want to come in to work, he didn’t have to. In the racing business, travel was all part of the job. That was good. It was always good to be home, but he always got restless after awhile.

Besides the travel let him indulge in his quest, with no one being the wiser, which suited him just fine. Last night had been good. However, he had to be careful about appearances in his home town, but it’d been nice to keep his hand in. After all, what ULTIMATE didn’t know, didn’t brother him at all.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he, after checking to make sure no one was watching, vibrated his hands at high speed so quickly the liquid inside scarcely moved. In no time at all the coffee was piping hot from the induced fiction.

Sipping his morning brew, his eyes grew large as he looked outside. “Hello! What do we have here?” He thought as he watched the long legged brunette in the tight red dress as she tried to cross the busy street.

Even as his eyes were taking in the delightful figure, his brains were figuring the angles. It was still mid-morning in Charlotte, and far too early for the club scene. This city might have grown into quite the metropolis, but in this part of town, you were hell of a lot more likely to see women in a tight pair of jeans and boots, rather than this woman’s come-hither-now dress, and heels.

It didn’t add up. Anything was possible, but the only reason he was still alive was because he’d learned a lot since his Rocketeer days. ULTIMATE had been giving him some grief of late, but this didn’t seem like their style. Stepping outside, he spotted the Feds in their impossible to miss big, black, tank-like, SUV’s. Okay, that answered that question.

The next was, which agency was playing games with him, and what to do about it. The CIA had long given up trying to see if his powers had returned, in hopes of recruiting him on the sly. The FBI grudgingly decided, years ago that he had not broken any laws in revealing Top Secret information to the committee that was charged with investigating Project Meridian. It wasn’t binding to make 10 year old minors sign nondisclosure security agreements, maybe because kids had no business being around anything involving classified materials in the first place.

That left only the DOD, the Department of Defense, and since his contacts had kept him informed who was still running the show at Area 61, that meant the good ole boys in the blue, the Air Force. Well General “La Big Feet” had gotten canned after his screw up, that had killed everyone Alan had ever cared for, growing up. That meant that it was, more than likely Doc, and some other blue suited zoomie, who were trying to ruin his day.

Undoubtedly, this fem fatale was going to step out into traffic, and he was supposed to save her. Alan had to force himself not to shake his head. Jeez, they had even put her in a red dress. Who did they think he was, John Dillinger? Yeah, as soon as they saw him step outside, they started their little show. One of the Fed tanks started forward, just as the Lady in Red began to cross the street. Well, maybe he’d give them a clue that it wasn’t going to happen.

Alan raised his hand and whistled, “HEY, Lady watch out!”

The black truck screeched around the woman, proving that whoever was running this operation wasn’t totally incompetent. On cue, she fell, but Alan could tell she hadn’t been hit ,and it hadn’t got past him that another Fed, tank-like, SUV was blocking traffic, making sure no overly aggressive Carolina drivers accidentally, really hit their honey bait.

Deciding he’d go on playing his part, he snapped out his phone. Instead of calling 911, he called Susan his office manager. “Susan, call 911 and report an accident. If anything happens to me, please do what I discussed with you and John in case of any old ‘friends’ of mine showing up. Alright?”

Her concern for him showed in the lilt of her soft, southern accent. “No problem on number one, honey, but I can call John, and he’d have the boys out front lickity-split. You know they all can handle a little scuffle.”

He could hear her phone’s tones as she dialed emergency services. The Feds, seeing their charade had failed, were charging forward as if he was a wanted criminal. Maybe he was, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them that! Alan then saw a face he hadn’t seen in over 30 years. Damn, this was serious if Doc Mac was here in person.

“No Susan. Just follow my instructions.” He said, and closed his phone. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. No siree, not very nice at all. Thank you ma’am.

Alan raised his eyebrows as a mixed salad of black suited Feds, and Air Force Security ‘Cops’ jumped out, with their hands on their weapons.

Taking another sip of his coffee, he did his best to ignore them, despite all the bad memories. The thought did cross his mind about perhaps calling his lawyers, but he decided against it. Doc Mac was the big Head Cheese. The Feds would never have let him out here if they could help it. Nope, whatever they wanted from him, they were determined to get it, and bringing in his own legal goons, more than likely, wouldn’t help matters. All-righty then, play it by ear it is.

As he suspected, the uniformed goons kept their distance. They wouldn’t do anything until after Doc Mac made whatever demands he had in mind. Of course, they would use those dart guns he’d noticed they were all carrying, when he told Doc just what he could go and do with himself, because he had no intentions of going along with anything they wanted.

Alan judged the man walking up to him with different eyes than the ones he’d had at age 14. Not as tall as he remembered, and a whole lot less hair, but he certainly didn’t look the near 70 he had to be. More like a well preserved 60. Of course, the ever-present white lab coat was missing, replaced with a conservative gray suit.

Doc Mac had always treated him and the rest of The Rocketeers more like adults, than the prisoners Air Force goons did. However, it never got past any of them that Doc had something in the back of his eyes that was downright freaky. None of them ever forgot that, maybe friendly bumbling Doc Mac wasn’t nearly as nice as he made himself out to be.

That didn’t even count the fact that every time they got zapped by that damn giant ray gun, it was Doc Mac pulling the trigger. Yeah General “La Big Feet” might have given the orders that had killed the only family he’d ever known, but he’d never forgotten that kindly Doc Mac had built the frakking damn thing, and had pulled the trigger. Knowing what to look for, Alan saw, ‘Yeah, it was still there.’

Plastering a fake smile on his face, he greeted Doc as the scientist walked up with his escort of bodyguards. “Hey Doc! Long time no see. Did you ever get those Christmas cards I sent you?”

Without missing, a beat Alan turn to the Lady in Red who was right on Doc’s heels. “Hey there! Nice dress! It really goes with those shoes, but a little early in the day, ain’t it? I’m Alan Glenn, but seeing how you’re with Doc Mac, you already know that don’t you?
 

*          *          *
 
Courtney picked herself up, fuming. That moron driving the SUV had come close to actually hitting her. It that wasn’t enough, it was unbearably hot in this hick town, and the pavement, where she’d so dramatically fallen, had literally burned her.

Well, that either answered question of if whether or not Alan Glenn was a supra-human, or if he was still stupidly heroic. ‘Take your choice’ she thought, as she stormed across the street. She had looked liked a fool, since he had done nothing. The Air Force security detail formed up around her, blocking her view, but she had come too far to let Doctor McClellan upstage her.

Forcing her way past the circle of faceless muscle, she caught up with her project leader, just as he and the subject were exchanging greetings. She disregarded the comment he made about her dress. Determined to play this out to the end, she stuck her hand out at him, “Doctor Courtney Hathaway. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Giving him a smile that never reached her eyes, she gave him a critical look over. He was a bit on the short side for her taste, standing about 5’7”. His longish hair was still coal black, and didn’t have that monotone look of dye. Even in this heat, he was wearing a worn leather jacket with a number of racing related patches. The rest of his clothing was bulky as well, no doubt hiding a ‘middle age’ spread, she judged. Still he didn’t look the 48 years his file claimed. ‘Perhaps late 30’s’ she thought.

More annoying, her Esper sense couldn’t get a good read on him. Normally she got emotions clearly, and often times words, and thoughts as well even without probing. It was all part of what made her a very effective psychiatrist.

Yet she could read Dr. McClellan quite well, but couldn’t read this washed up, ex-teenage superhero. Inwardly she sighed. There were those who she couldn’t read, and he just happened to be one of them. It was of no consequence. She would still get what she wanted. It would require playing on his ego.

“I have all of your Team’s books. It’s such an honor to meet you in person. She gushed, “I can’t wait to begin working with you.”

Alan Glenn jadedly answered her, “Yeah, right. Hey Doc! Would you mind telling Doctor…”he trailed off, as if trying to think of her name.

Despite his bad boy smart mouth, she could still feel his gaze on her breasts. Just like any male, as long as you controlled what he looked at, you controlled him. Perkily she spoke up helpfully, “Hathaway, Courtney Hathaway, Doctor of Psychiatry.”

He gave her a sarcastic smile. “Hey Thanks! Hathaway, Courtney Hathaway, Doctor of Psychiatry, all that comic-book crap was propaganda, and I would rather have her give me a Brazilian wax job than work with her, or any of you.”

Dr. McClellan spoke calmly, ignoring his outburst, “Hello Alan. It has been a long time. I never got any Christmas cards, but I understand that I have you to thank for that Special Senate investigation committee subpoena I received.”

Alan smiled replying, “No hard feelings Doc? After all, I had to thank you somehow, for making me glow in the dark for most of my childhood. Oh, I forgot. You were just following orders. But hey, bygones are bygones.”

Courtney didn’t miss the hardening of his eyes when he continued, “Speaking of which, nice to see you. Sorry to see you have to go so soon. Bye, and please stay gone.”

Her boss shook his gray head, saying, “Alan, you know it doesn’t work that way. We are reactivating Meridian, and we need you.”

Alan’s eyebrows shot up as he guffawed, “Oh that’s rich Doc! Here I am almost fifty, and you’re trying to irradiate me again? Wasn’t it enough what happened to The Rocketeers?”

“You misunderstand Alan,” Dr. McClellan explained. “We are going to recruit another team. You’re going to train them.”

The auto repair shop owner just started laughing, ignoring the horde of armed men surrounding him. “Doc, I thought you said you were going start zapping kids again! That is so damn funny. Hey, let’s not forget that Meridian was shut down by an act of Congress. And, what about the whole project being illegal by international treaty?”

Laughing so hard he bent over he gasped out, “You know what the funniest part is Doc?”

Courtney was getting the feeling that this wasn’t going to plan, but that Dr. McClellan wasn’t surprised by Alan Glenn’s reaction. The old scientist shook his head.

Waving his hand at all the armed men about him, he looked up. “That all of you expect me to go along with any of this. The mighty Air Force dumped me like last week’s garbage when I wasn’t of any use to them any more, after keeping me as a virtual prisoner for 4 years. Oh I wasn’t going to mention my Team, and the only family I ever had, that the boys in blue here managed to get killed, but since you’re talking about ruining another group of kid’s lives, I will.”

As he stood straight, no longer laughing, Courtney blinked her eyes, seeing something she hadn’t expected. He might have been lusting for her body, but this redneck hick had iron, no, steel in him. He knew the men around him were there to bring him in, and he simply didn’t care. This man had once faced the most intimidating supra-criminals on the planet, and if it’d been long ago, the steel within was as strong as ever.

Meeting Dr. McClellan eye to eye he said softly, “Let me put it another way Doc. Hell frakking N, O, no.”

The old scientist said back just as evenly, “It wasn’t a request Alan.”

The tension ran wild as Alan acknowledged, “I know.”

Security fired the first dart at the Doctor’s nod.

In a smooth move, Alan avoided the dart and grabbed the Air Force sergeant’s arm. With a twist, he caused the hapless man to shoot one of his own men. He whirled the drugged man around as a shield, as the unfortunate man got hit by several more darts, as others fired their one shot weapons.

Courtney found herself in the unusual position of being surprised again. Her Esper power had given her no warning before Alan Glenn had erupted into action. In the space of only a second, two of their escort were neutralized. Three more stepped forward with handheld tasers, ready to subdue the unexpectedly difficult subject.

They had no more luck than their first two comrades. The first was disarmed, while the last pair tasered each other. Intently analyzing his performance, she decided that if what she saw wasn't supra-abilities, then he must be very, very good.

She directed the remaining security personnel to back away, out of hand-to-hand range, and to reload. Hurriedly she and the good Doctor got out of the way, leaving them clear to shoot. The next dart harmlessly hung in his leather jacket, and she heard Doctor McClellan telling them to shoot at his legs. The following shot would've missed too, but Courtney gave it a little telekinetic assistance, making sure this one hit the target.

He folded, as the fast acting drug took effect.

Standing over him, Doctor McClellan remarked, "I see you have gotten over that strange clumsiness of yours."

Just before he passed out Alan muttered, "I love you too Doc..."

Courtney asked, "Doctor, what was that? I thought Vroom's powers were super-speed.

Cleaning his throat he pointed out, "Indeed Vroom could run at near supersonic speeds, but what we saw here today was simply training. After he lost his powers and ran away from that foster home, he continued studying self-defense, and the martial arts, just in case any of the criminals The Rocketeers fought, came after him. He has black belts in any number of disciplines, as well as a concealed carry license." He inclined his head, as one of their security detail removed the automatic pistol from under Alan's jacket.

"I do believe you have several stops to make, picking up our candidates. We have much to do, and little time. However, I think since Mr. Glenn is unconscious, it would be a perfect time for an examination." The Doctor dismissed her, as Alan Glenn was loaded into a waiting ambulance.

Standing there for a moment, as the Air Force security men helped their roughly handled comrades up, she considered what had just happened. Clearly, she’d been underestimating Doctor McClellan. Her little red dress act hadn’t been the only test of Alan Glenn this morning.

The Doctor had definitely known how Alan Glenn would respond to news about Project Meridian. He had also known about the martial arts training. That fight had only been another test.

She looked back at Rocket's Speed Shop, at the faces there, watching what had happened. There were no real worries, for security would take care of those irritating things like camera phones and such. It seemed there was more to this than she'd suspected.

Courtney put aside that thought for later. She did have much to do. Without a second thought, she climbed into the waiting transport to the airport.
 

*          *          *
 
Susan, the office manager, stood next to John, the shop supervisor, as the last of the plain clothes security cops left. Blandly polite, the cops had taken the recordings of the fight from the shop’s security cameras, and given some vague explanation about national security concerns.

Neither had to voice what they were feeling. Working at the same place for twenty years had given them a closeness most married couples lacked. Giving each other a look, she said it first, "Damn them!"

He spat a wad of chew tobacco into the cup he carried in agreement. Jerking a grease stained thumb at the office safe he asked. "You ready?"

Together they opened the safe and took out the sealed packet. Inside were the letters giving them temporary control of the business till Alan could return. He had set that up years ago, in case of something like this. Someone else might have worried about them stealing his business, but not Alan. He trusted them, and besides the way he paid them, they probably came out ahead, letting him get the ulcers from stress of being the owner.

Then they came to the other sets of three letters. Each applied to different ways their boss came up missing. Taking the ones for being picked up by the government, they looked at the instructions he’d left for them. One letter went out airmail, with the usual office correspondence. Another was mailed by one of the guys in the shop, following John's orders to the letter, to drop it into a random mailbox. The last was sent FedEx by Susan's husband, who was wondering what was going on, that his wife made him make a special trip to the post office.
 

*          *          *
 
Chapter Three

Leavenworth, Kansas
September 3, 2008
ETWF: 19 Days

Joshua Dean decided the world sucked. He'd never been one of the popular kids, but still he’d been doing alright, surviving the hell that was high school the best way he could. He’d made it all the way to junior, and had just one more year to go. Then he had to mutate. The only obvious changes were his eyes, which had changed to a brilliant rainbow swirl. Then he had faded out of sight, while in the middle of class. Invisibility sounds like a cool thing until you start getting hard stares from the girls when you get too near their locker room.

What sucked was he hadn't even done anything! Now this, he thought, watching the three trolls stalk toward him. He knew what they wanted. Ever since those stupid cheerleaders had accused him of sneaking into the female showers, the dumb-ass trio had been after him to take a camera into the locker room to do just that.

What sucked even more was, if he just faded out to avoid these idiots, he would get in trouble for using his powers at school. Not that he had much of a choice. It was that, or let these knuckle draggers beat the crap out of him.

As he faded out of view, Joshua gave the angry trio a sarcastic wave.

From down the hallway he heard the vice principal Donner yell out, "Joshua Dean! My office now."

Yeah, his life sucked.
 

*          *          *
 
Dothan, Alabama

Malak Thorpe floated along, watching the fluffy clouds above. She mused it wasn’t all that different from last year, floating in their swimming pool back in LA, except of course she was a good twenty feet off the ground, drifting along just under the treetops. Lazily, she rolled, facing downward where her twin brother Malik was stomping though the forest shortcut from school.

Standing at near 6’ at only 15 years old, he already had a body builder’s physique, that he’d been working hard at since they were ten. A natural athlete, he’d started playing sports almost before he could walk. It didn’t matter what it was; baseball, football, soccer, or any other sport, he excelled.

Then the world came crashing in on them. Their father and mother had been killed in a robbery attempt at the bank where they worked. They’d moved from LA to their Grandma’s home in Alabama.

The shock of going from the big city to a very rural one was bad enough, but although they had visited often during the holidays, it wasn’t the same as actually living here. It didn’t help at all that they didn’t fit in at all. Mom’s family was lower income black, while Dad’s had been upper class white.

Growing up, they had heard the love story of how their parents had met and fell in love. He was a finance major, and she was there on a business scholarship. Granddad Thorpe had almost had a heart attack when Dad had asked Mom to marry him they’d been told. It was hard to believe the jolly old man who’d bounced them on his knee had ever been like that.

Still, they had seen racism, but really, it hadn’t been too bad. Their Mom had taught them how to cope. Look them in the eye, work twice as hard, and be four times better. Besides, there’d been lots of kids from all over the world at their school, so they didn’t stand out.

What neither of them expected, was the discrimination from the blacks at school here. Even before they’d mutated, the ‘brothers and sisters’ were calling them mutants because of their appearance. Dad had been a handsome red head, and Mom an African American beauty.

The mixing of the two hadn’t turned out too well, in her opinion. From their Dad they’d gotten their very pale skin. What didn’t help was, their very dark freckles gave them a peppered look. The red hair also came from Dad, but its kinky texture was all from Mom. They both also got their strong faces from their Mom’s side of the family. At least that is what she called it.

Malak hated the way she looked, even if she had to admit that, below the neck they had almost made up for getting the wrong everything for their faces. Her brother didn’t have much of a problem with it, but he didn’t have try and match makeup to her impossible shades.

It’d been hard, but they’d followed their Mom’s advice, and were making it work. Grandma Carter hadn’t been in the best health, but working together, they’d helped as much as they could. Then another disaster, within days of each other, they’d both gotten sick and mutated.

Outwardly, nothing had really changed, except if you looked hard, their eyes had gotten even darker. Inwardly was another matter. Malik had gotten stronger and tougher. His muscles and bones had changed into something stronger than mere flesh and blood. Even his skin was more resilient.

Malak might have changed even more than he, because she could fly! The doctor that had examined them thought she might be tapping into the Earth’s magnetic field or something. What she knew was she could fly though the air, almost as if she was swimming. She loved being able to soar.

For Malik though it was a total catastrophe. No school, no league, no team would let him play. Even his hobby of weight lifting had lost its appeal. Even the heaviest set he had was easy for him to lift now. Once he’d dreamed of going pro after school. A dream that’d been crushed. Without the outlet sports gave him, he’d grown moody, and she worried about him.

There’d been incidents where the bullies at school were pushing to see just how far they could go. Didn’t the morons know her brother could turn any of them into paste? Well she knew they weren’t all that bright, and suspected that the smarter others were egging them on just so she and Malik would get in trouble with ULTIMATE. As if that wasn’t enough to worry about, all this had put even more stress on their Grandma. Malak knew the old woman was worried. What would become of them if anything happened to her?

Inwardly she repeated her mother’s mantra, work twice as hard and be four times better. Approaching their Grandma’s house, nestled back in its grove of tall southern pines, she saw them first. A black SUV was parked out front. She had a bad feeling about this, but saw no need to let her brother know just yet. Malak was learning why some said ignorance was bliss.
 

*          *          *
 
Augusta, Maine

Waiting in the cafeteria line, Amanda De Winter brushed her dark hair from her face, as the light breeze teased it. She did the best she could to pay the snickers behind her no attention. She couldn't believe that her former friends would turn on her so quick. It wasn't her fault that she was a mutant.

They'd been friends since the first grade, and now, nothing. Other kids had mutated, and had a hard time fitting in too. But these had been her friends! Now the only time they talked was to make her life hell. She had even had to change her cell phone number, because of all the nasty text messages.

She knew she should be thankful that she didn't change into something that didn't even look human, like some mutants did. Like others, her eyes had changed dramatically. Her blue eyes were now a stormy gray, but her sandy blond hair had darkened to a dark blacker than black, mass of curls.

Her powers made every thing worse by continually causing a breeze near her making her hair dance in response to her moods. People were always aware something was different about her, as the breezes swirled about her, even when inside. It wasn't fair!

A sharp shove from behind almost made her fall!

"Move it Breezy, you’re making all the food grow cold" A voice haughtily demanded, as her ex-friends stepped around her.

Amanda felt her face burning in embarrassment and anger. The unfairness and the scorn from her turncoat friends pushed her across a line. So, they’re worried about their food being cold?

In front of her, they were busily scooping what passed in the high school cafeteria for food, onto their plates. Behind Amanda was a different story, as the students saw her hair stop its playful dance to flow out behind her as if she stood in a storm. Lunch forgotten, they got out the way, not wanting to be caught in whatever was going to happen next.

Ashley felt a chill creep up on her. She knew it had to be that mutant bitch that had pretended to be a real person. She was going to turn around, and threaten it, until she saw her, once steaming, mashed potatoes sparkle with a covering of icy frost. In disbelief, she watched as all of her friends trays got the same treatment.

She screamed as she touched the frozen potatoes, and her finger stuck to the subzero, cold lump. The icy stuff burned like fire!

Amanda's head slumped forward. She knew she was in trouble. When she had been evaluated by ULTIMATE, she had been warned about using her powers. She knew it would be useless to say she’d been provoked. It just wasn't fair.

She just stood there in sorrow, as the lunchroom monitor hurried to the emergency.

Amanda couldn't think how her day could get worse, trudging home. The school headmaster had sent ULTIMATE the official notice that she had used her powers, and another student had been injured. Give her a break! That skag Ashley had only gotten a tiny spot on her finger frost-burned.

The sky above was cloudy and overcast, the usual for the great state of Maine. With a thought, the clouds thinned and the sun started to shine though the holes. There she thought. “That’s better.” At least it looks more cheerful. Feeling a little more upbeat, her mood lasted until she got home.

There was a big, black SUV parked in front of her house. Curious, because they never got visitors, she looked closer. Seeing the license plates, her heart fell. It had gotten worse. She might only be sixteen, but she knew nothing good ever came in a government vehicle.

The air swirled about her as she went inside, knowing she wasn't going to like what she found inside.
 

*          *          *
 
Baraboo, Wisconsin

William Riegel kept his head hunched down as he heard the bikes coming up fast from behind him. It'd been bad enough to be teased all his life about being fat. There was no use telling anyone it was genetic. Everyone from his little sister, to both sets of grandparents, were 'heavy boned' as his mother kindly put it.

Then one day in school, his hand had slowly lengthened, stretching all the way to the floor. It had scared him so badly that they had to sedate him. When he woke up, his dad and mom told him, he had become a supra-human. He was like Grandpa Fred, who could ignore the coldest weather, and had endless stamina. His powers were stretching, and not to worry, he would learn to use them quickly.

They'd been right. He'd quickly caught on how not to accidentally stretch, but learning to use them when he wanted to was something else. The best part was, he wasn't fat anymore if he didn't want to be. His body was fully pliable, and he could look like anyone. All he need a mirror, and a picture.

He had discovered that accidentally one day, while looking at some magazines. His mom would kill him if she ever found them. Bill had wanted so much to be able to touch one of those, so beautiful women, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be one too.

Then suddenly, he was her! Shocked, he'd just stared at the centerfold model that he'd become. She was so gorgeous that he didn't want to change back! Realizing that had scared him so bad, he hadn't dared to try it again for almost two whole days.

Then he had broken down. Bill just had to try it again. There was shame and embarrassment. He was a boy right? Big, bad and mean, and not scared of anything. Wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? How come it didn’t feel that way? Looking at the undeniable feminine figure in the mirror, it just felt so right.

Bill found himself experimenting with becoming different women while mixing and matching their different features. It was so fascinating that he couldn't stop. He wanted to tell his parents, because he knew they were aware something was up. But, how do you tell them, anyone, something like this?

Then he got careless, and someone from school saw him change. Bill never did discover who, but somehow word had gotten around. Being fat had been bad enough. Then he was a mutant and things had gotten worse. Now things had hit rock bottom, with him being called a sissy, and faggot.

He didn't know what to think about that. Having discovered girls, he was pretty sure he wasn't gay. Bill liked girls. He liked them a lot. It was just that he want to be one too. Not that it would do him a whole lot of good to explain that to the bullies after him right now. The good news was, since he was so pliable, physical stuff mostly just bounced off. Mostly, because he'd found that, if it was really cold, it still hurt. This was Wisconsin, it was always cold!

"Why couldn't they just leave me alone?" he thought, as a tear fell.

He fell forward as the boot kicked him in the back.

Austin, one of the nastiest bullies at school, rode by on his bike, with a cigarette dangling from his lip. A heartbeat later the rest of the teenage hoodlum's wanna-be gang breezed by.

Sliding to a stop blocking his way, they laughed at him, sprawled on the sidewalk. They were laughing at him.

Stone-Cold Austin took a drag on his cigarette, feeling on top of the world. He'd shown that mutant sissy who was boss. “Hey, why had everyone stopped laughing?”

His victim was back on his feet, but there wasn't any of the expected fear in his eyes. Those black eyes showed only hate, and the anger of someone who wasn't going to take it anymore. Crap, maybe he had misjudged the pansy!

That was his last thought, as a fist snapped at him from 6 feet away, sending him into unconsciousness.

Bill knew he shouldn't have fought back. No matter what he did, he was going to end up in trouble. Still it had felt good to get some of his own back on his tormentors. Seeing the black government SUV in front of his house, all of his satisfaction disappeared, as his stomach turned into knots.

He knew his mom and dad had been talking about sending him to a special school out east somewhere, but what did the government have to do with that? Walking in, and seeing the two well-dressed representatives with their brochures and pamphlets, he knew this wasn‘t good.

“Honey,” His mom greeted him. “You know that school for students like you, we were talking about? Well they are representatives from another one, that has tuition assistance for families like ours.”

 

*          *          *
 
Boston, Massachusetts

Unhappily, six-year-old Elizabeth Tyree hugged her stuffed bear, Mr. Ted E. Bear. It wasn’t her fault! She didn’t mean to break those things. It was just that things broke all the time now. Sniffing, she knew she was in trouble this time for making Jeffery stop bothering her and the rest of the girls while they’d been playing.

He was always making fun of them, and saying bad things. This time she’d made him stop. Now everyone was mad at her! Her teacher sent her to the principal’s office, and her mommy had showed up too.

She’d been scolded about scaring Jeffery, and told she could’ve hurt him. Lizzie didn’t mean to. It had all gone wrong a few weeks ago, and her Mommy and Daddy had taken her to the hospital. They said she was one of the youngest muta-somethings they had ever seen. All she knew was, she was accidentally breaking all her toys, and getting in trouble all the time.

Her door opened, and Mommy came in with another woman.

Wiping her eyes, and trying to be a good girl, she timidly stood, still clutching Ted E. Bear.

“Elizabeth,” Her mother said, “This is Miss Hathaway, and she is going to be your new teacher. You’ll be going to a special school.”

Lizzie didn’t hear the rest of what Mommy said. As the tears began to fall again, she knew she was being sent away because she’d been bad. Crying, she begged them not to. She would be good, and not break anything ever again, but no one listened.
 

*          *          *
 
Chapter Four

Area 61
September 4, 2008
ETWF: 18 Days

Alan woke on an uncomfortable examination table. Grimacing at his headache, he sat up. Glancing down at the medical gown he was wearing; he guessed Doc Mac hadn’t wasted any time probing where he wasn’t wanted. There were guards at the door and, looking around, he recognized the room, Area 61.

Shaking his head, it figured. His brother, when he’d blown up, had been topside. All the underground stuff had been built to take a nuclear blast anyways. Hell, most of this place was buried anyways. He shouldn’t be surprised it survived. Disappointed, but not surprised.

His clothes were neatly folded on a nearby chair. Well, nothing for it, he wagered. Slipping off the bed, he started a warm up, tai chi form. It was just thing to help him judge if anything had been done to him. Gracefully, he flowed into the deceptively slow motion art. Quickly he found the places where blood had been drawn. Harder to find was the spot on his back.

A slow spin in the mirror, which he knew was two way, revealed the slight discoloration and the bump of an implant.

Some dogs just can’t learn new tricks. Some thirty years ago they had stuck trackers, monitoring devices, and all kind of other junk just under the skin of him, his brother, and their friends. Not just to keep an eye on them, but to control them. Just before he’d run away he’d performed a little surgery, and yanked that damn thing out. Much harder to get rid of had been the injected chemicals that would've allowed him to be tracked. All of it had been extremely unpleasant.

Alan guessed that this was more of the same, although it did bear thinking that this most recent device might have some truly nasty things in it. Plus, they put it somewhere difficult for him to reach. Taking a deep breath and centering himself, he didn’t sense anything else.

Right, it was time to get dressed. He just finished taking inventory of his belongings, not surprised to find his phone and weapon missing, when the welcoming committee barged in. In front was some blue uniformed type, with his hat covered in the ‘scrambled eggs’ embroidery reserved for general officers. Trailing ‘Eggs’ was the usual entourage of lower ranking ass-kissers and go-fers.

Doc Mac was hovering at ’Eggs’ right, with his own flock of hanger-on’s following him, looking like a flock of geese in their white lab coats.

“Hey Doc,” Alan greeted. “I remember this place. I thought it had all been blown to smithereens, but no such luck. Too bad.”

Doc Mac didn’t say a thing, deferring to the uniformed Air Force General trailing the usual entourage of aides and guards.

“Still the loose cannon Glenn? Where were you for the 14 years, after you left the Project?” Grated ‘Eggs’ at him.

Alan stared at the General before the name came to him. Widening his eyes in mock surprise. “Hey it’s Lieutenant ‘Lying-To-Me’ Laramie! They made you a General? Our military must be in worse shape than I thought.”

Ignoring the shock of the lackeys at his disrespect, he continued, despite the dangerous scowl on the General’s face. “Do as you‘re told and your families can visit,’ or do you remember ‘if you’re good, you can go home for Christmas?” He mocked the man in blue.

Raising his voice in a growl the General warned, “That will be enough of that Mr. Glenn. The question stands. You disappeared without a trace from 1975 to 1989. We looked for you because of security concerns. Where were you?”

Alan raised his eyebrows. Laramie would have a coronary if he ever found out, but as attractive as that thought was, some secrets had to be kept. “Security concerns? Are you slow? I told everybody I could! That’s why this joint got investigated by a Senate Committee. Not that it did any good, but by Gawd I tried.”

Laramie’s face twisted sourly, as he remembered that unpleasantness. Changing the subject, he got back to business. “We have a situation warranting the reactivation of project Meridian. You have been brought here to train this new batch of candidates. For your time and efforts, you will be very well compensated.

Sarcastically, Alan rejoined, “What could possibly justify putting more kids’ lives in jeopardy? What’s more, what right do you have to kidnap me? All of this is forbidden by the ULTIMATE accords. I’ve done well for myself, and my people, and I don’t need your money. There ain’t a single reason in the world for me to go along with this!”

Not backing down an inch, the General got in Alan’s face, “You are wrong Glenn. First, you don’t have a ‘need-to-know’. Second, you’re not covered by ULTIMATE since you lost your powers.”

“Third, the subjects are wards of the Federal government, and so bypass the directive against supra-humans working for a national government. Fourth, in case it has escaped you, the IRS is a Federal agency. I’m sure they could find some tax irregularity in your business, if they looked hard enough, Glenn.” The General spat out, like a man holding all the cards.

“Lastly we are going to try other techniques to augment your protégés abilities first. We have learned a lot in the last thirty years. You are our resident expert in teenage supra-teams. Get them to cooperate, and get with the program, so they show progress. If it works, we’ll have no reason to use our fallback plan of using Z-ray 13.”

Self-satisfied, he pulled out a cigar from his pocket. His aides fell over themselves lighting it for him. “We know of your martial arts instructor background, as well as your business and history degrees. You are qualified.”

Puffing smoke in Alan’s face, he demanded, “So, shut the hell up and do your job. I will have Meridian ready when it’s needed, no matter what it takes. Are we clear?”

Blinking at the foul smoke, he knew that he did not have a choice. Alan glared back, “Crystal, Sir.”

“For the duration of the training, you’ll go by your old code name, Vroom. Until a tactical commander is chosen it’ll be Captain Vroom, since you‘ll be nominally in charge.” The General chuckled, amused at his own cleverness. “Captain Vroom. I like the sound of that.”

Secure in his own omnipotence, he turned on his heel, leaving his boot-lickers gagging on the foul smelling smoke, and struggling to follow. A few of Doc Mac’s civilian gaggle, with lesser constitutions than their military counterparts, were throwing up in the corner from the stench.

Alan sarcastically smiled again, “Good ole Area 61. Just like I never left, eh Doc? Captain Vroom? Someone should tell that idiot that I lost any powers I had, 34 years ago.”

Doc pushed up his glasses, and tried to reason with him. “Alan, I know, better than most, that you have cause to be angry and upset. There are good reasons why Meridian is back, and the new techniques have every potential to achieve the project’s goals.”

Quirking an eyebrow he replied, “So do my job of convincing these kids, who have been all but kidnapped, to do what you want or you’ll zap them like you did to us? Excuse the hell out of me Doc, but that‘s a load of crap.”

Alan jerked his thumb at the General’s receding smoke trail. “It sucked wind when Lieutenant Lying-to-me did it to me, my brother, and our friends. He must think it’s a hoot, trying to force me to do the same things he did to us.”

Looking Doc in the eyes, he said, “I got news for everyone. I’m not lying to these kids. Oh I’ll do the best I can, if for no other reason than to keep you from making them glow in the dark.”

Looking hurt out from over his glasses Doc Mac replied, “Alan, I’m not the villain here. At one time we used be friends, regardless of our age difference. All we’re asking is that you do your best. Even if you were to fail, the newest Z-ray 13 is much safer than the old Z-ray 9. We have run countless computer simulations that give a high degree of confidence in its operation.”

Picking up his jacket and heading for the door, Alan looked over his shoulder at Doc, “You have no idea of how warm and fuzzy that makes me feel. Never mind giving me the tour, I know the way.”

Without another word, he walked out past the guards.
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 1
 
 

You Can't Put A Speed Limit On Justice!

Chapter Five

Area 61
September 5, 2008
ETWF: 17 Days

Courtney hated being away from Area 61. This was where things were happening, and she didn’t like playing catch up. Being absent, and not able to guide events in her best interests, annoyed her. She had learned, as a child, not being in control was a bad thing. You were left at the mercy of others. If you wanted things to work out in your favor, you had to make them.

As a supra-human, she chaffed under the restrictions ULTIMATE placed upon her. The list was a long one, but the worst was that she was forbidden to work directly for the government because of fears it would use her abilities against other countries. Her employers had used a loophole, that she worked for a company with a government contract, an absolute fiction.

She was ambitious, but the very same qualities that gave her the edge over competitors in the corporate world, made many smaller private companies leery of hiring her. The large multi-national companies were always looking to hire employees with talents like hers. Although she still could’ve thrived in the cold-blooded, shark infested waters of big business, she still wanted more.

Courtney knew the ink hadn’t even dried on the ULTIMATE accords before the Office of Archives and Research had been formed. It was a deep, black operational cover for all of the United States’ Supra and Para normal resources. Let the UN Security Council monitored ULTIMATE blunder about trying to take care of the world’s mutant problems.

The United States of America was not about to put its security concerns about anything into anyone else’s hands, much less something as important as the supra-human question. Area 61 wasn’t OAR’s only installation, but it was the biggest, concerned with creating and empowering supra-humans.

There was power here, and she wanted it. First, there was security provided by the Untied States military that kept the mutant haters away. Second, hidden from the public, many laws didn’t apply here, and it was the ones in charge that made the rules. Perhaps she wasn‘t the one in command, but she’d long ago became adapt at manipulating others who were.

Finally, there was the potential for power beyond anybody‘s dreams. This was where the very secrets of the universe were being unlocked. Supra and Para-normals were the gods and demigods of the modern age. From the golden Heroes, such as Major Victory, to the terrors of Professor Mortis, they were individually as powerful as armies, in their own right.

Here was the forge of Vulcan, and Pandora’s Box, together in one neat package. Courtney was in the perfect position to direct the actions of the world’s next generation of gods. Members of The Rocketeers had been some of the most powerful supra-humans of their time. They had fallen, only because their masters had dared reach for too much, and like Icarus, they had fallen.

She promised herself she would be more cautious. General Laramie was almost too easy to twist, but Doctor McClellan was turning out to be more of a player than she’d anticipated. It was something to bear in mind. Since she’d first become aware of the possibility of multiplying a supra-human’s power, she’d wondered if hers could be as well.

Courtney wrote her reports of the successful mission, and contacts with the Meridian candidates’ families, on the flight back. None had given her any significant problems. She did find it ironic that it was the poorest of the five that resisted her the most, while the most influential had been the easiest to convince to sign over full legal guardianship of their children.

Additionally, William Riegel’s parents gave her reason to be cautious, dealing with them. There was a history of supra-humans in his family, and that made influencing them with her powers, risky. You never knew when you might run across another telepathic mutant, hiding in the closet. The financially struggling family had been contemplating sending their son to The Academy, because of troubles he’d been having in school, because of harassment since his mutation.

Courtney had gone to The Academy herself, and knew the school for the supra-human had generous scholarships. The Riegel family couldn’t manage even with that help. She had only to offer a more attractive finance package. Of course, they didn’t know they had just sold their son. All it took was a little legal slight of hand, and a touch of Esper suggestion.

If the boy’s family proved to be a problem in the future, they would receive news that William had been involved in some horrible accident, that required a closed casket funeral. As for the boy himself, she’d seen some interesting possibilities in her preliminary scan of his mind.

The buzz of the intercom interrupted her thoughts. “Ma’am this is Major Vasquez, the Duty Officer. We have Captain Vroom in an unauthorized area, the Z-Ray amphitheater. General Laramie and Doctor McClellan are unavailable, and you are next on the notification roster. What action should we take?”

‘Not here an entire day yet and already breaking the rules are we, Mr. Glenn. Interesting,’ she thought.

“Do nothing unless he attempts sabotage. I’ll handle this myself. I’m on the way, Thank you,” She directed. Her fingers flew across her laptop’s keys, rapidly scanning the results of Alan Glenn’s physical examination. Taking a quick moment to check her appearance, she took one of the Segways that made getting around the large complex so much easier.

On the way there, she evaluated the information from Dr. McClellan’s report. Alan Glenn was in excellent physical condition, and it was likely that he was still supra-human. However, he was, at best, classified as an Alpha, the lowest category. None of his traits surpassed human norms. What made him unusual, was that every single one was at the maximum for those considered normal. He could be an Olympic contender in nearly every event. No one was supposed to be perfect in everything, not bad for someone nearing fifty.

She’d been completely wrong about his middle age spread, which irritated her. He had the well-defined musculature of a natural athlete, with ‘six-pack’ abs that would be the envy of any body builder.

It was obvious how he’d avoided being classified as a mutant by ULTIMATE. Since an Alpha was the perfect normal human, there were a lot of gray areas about the specifics, since what was considered normal human, was being constantly redefined every time an athletic world record was broken.

When the human genome mapping project reached completion, many believed that the X gene would finally be isolated and identified. A simple blood test, and all the questions about who was and who wasn’t a mutant would be answered, Not. Early researchers had been spectacularly wrong about genetic mutation being the cause of Supra-human abilities.

There wasn’t an X gene, or any other, that all so-called mutants had, that normal humans lacked. Genetics apparently did play a part, because supra-normal traits could be passed down to their children, but it was only a part of the phenomena. They knew a whole lot about what it wasn’t, but the exact cause was still unknown.

Dr. McClellan theorized in his report, that Alan was how he would be if he’d never been exposed to Z-Ray Six, without of course his supra-running or rapid healing ability. Speaking of which, he had found no signs of either ability. It seemed that Alan Glenn was exactly what he said he was. A world-class superhero who’d lost his powers, if not quite as old and helpless as he let everyone believe.

She stopped her Segway short of the restricted area; to give him the impression she’d accidentally found him. Wondering how he had gotten inside, she opened the large blast style doors with her keycard. Schooling her face to look surprised, she found him standing in the sunken center of the large amphitheater, behind the subject’s couch.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you had access.” She asked challengingly.

Ignoring the question, and her, he just stood there with his eyes closed, looking up at the huge Z-Ray 13 emitter that dominated the enormous shielded room. Catwalks crisscrossed the ceiling, amid the forest of heavy power cables.

“Hello? Didn’t you hear me?” She asked again, determined to control this encounter.

As if to himself, he spoke, “I was only 10 the first time I saw this thing. One by one we were each strapped down here, and Doc Mac, up there in the control booth, pulled the trigger,” he said pointing up. “I was so scared, but my big brother Gus told me I had nothing to worry about. Doc Mac had told us we’re all going to be superheroes, just like in the comic books.”

“After our parents died in that car accident, Gus watched out for me. I was the skinny, snot-nosed kid everyone picked on, but not when Gus was around. He was 14, and was everything I wasn’t. You just knew he was going to do big things when he grew up.

“He and Doug were always competing over who was the toughest, but they never fought about it. Then there was Jeff, who was the clown, always finding some way to make all of us laugh. I remember when he and Doug made the toilets, up in officer country, blow up, with their homemade firecrackers.” He smiled, reminiscing.

“That first time, Alice just walked up and jumped in, asking what was taking everyone so long, demanding they hurry up. I had such a crush on her, but everyone knew she was Gus’s girl.” He said, with his smile turning sad.

“Joyce was so little, she’d had to be helped up. Everybody knew she had been crying, but there wasn’t nuthing but smiles when they came to get her. She was everyone’s little sister, and a real heartbreaker.”

His voice grew hoarse as he continued, “You know, I never could tell anyone really what it felt like to have that thing zap you. It felt like you had ants running all over you, but only kinda. Jeff said, once it was like having Gawd whispering in one ear, while the Devil was yelling in the other.”

“What it did afterwards, was make you sick. Doc had us struck with so many needles we looked like pincushions, because of the radiation poisoning. It was so strange that I got well first, because of my healing knack. Me, the kid with the runny nose!”

“Three more times we went under the gun, but that last time was the worst of all. No one had to say that this thing had killed Joyce, but we all knew. Gus stormed out, madder than I’d ever seen him. The next thing we heard was him blasting his way past the guards at the door when they wouldn’t let him by. Half-sick with radiation poisoning, we tried to stop him, but he was crazy, out of his mind. I don’t think he really knew what was going on by then.”

Courtney still could not read him with her powers, but with the tears in his eyes, she didn’t need to. She started down the steps to consol him, thinking of how best take advantage of this opportunity.

He turned, and looked at her. “The next thing I knew I was waking up, and everyone, but Jeff was dead. He never would talk about it, but it ate at him from the inside, until there was nothing left. I got kicked out into the cold when the Air Force found my powers were gone, but I found out later, Jeff had committed suicide exactly one year later.”

“You should ask yourself what kind of people does things like this to kids. What’s more, you should ask yourself what kind of person that makes you for helping them. You know something else? You looked better in that red dress. That lab coat doesn’t do a thing for you.” He said with a lopsided grin, and bounded up the stairs, faster than she could follow.

Still grinning he answered her earlier question. “As for how I got inside, Dr. Hathaway, I spent 4 years in this asylum. I have my ways. Good night” And with that, he disappeared down the hallway.

Caught opened mouthed, Courtney realized there was a lot more to Alan Glenn than she thought. Shutting her mouth, she looked about the stadium sized room. This place reeked of potential power. Remembering the words of the man who’d just departed; it also represented the price one paid for daring to reach for the impossible.

She was no stranger to the price one paid for ambition, and the willingness to manipulate others for her own ends. Courtney had many acquaintances but no close friends, lovers but no loves. Slowly climbing out of the pit, she wondered just who had been manipulating who.

Behind her, the shielded blast doors shut with a ringing boom. Courtney had some thinking to do.

Chapter Six

Area 61
September 8, 2008
ETWF: 14 Days

Malik was really beginning to not like what was happening, but understood where his Grandma had been coming from. He and his twin kept getting in increasingly bad trouble though no fault of their own, and Grandma was almost 70. She just wasn’t able to deal with it, as she should, because of her health. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to find somewhere for them that was safe.

The thing was, someone had lied big time. They were supposed to be going to some school for mutant kids just like themselves. Flying in a private business jet was the bomb, but when they had set down in the middle of nowhere, with all those Air Force guys around, he started having doubts. Add that damn huge, concealed aircraft hanger cut right into the side of the mountain and that express elevator ride deep underground, he knew for sure something was wrong.

Yeah everyone was real nice and his room was huge. It had its own entertainment center, computer and wide screen HDTV. He peeked into some of the classrooms and they all looked state of the art. However, he didn’t miss the guards in the areas they weren’t supposed to go. Maybe he wasn’t streetwise, and he sure wasn’t no gangster, but he wasn’t stupid either.

He could count the number of rooms in the dorm and eight was pretty damn small for an entire school. His sister and he had seen some of the other kids as they were unpacking and one of those was maybe a second grader. Some of the other kids looked closer to him and his sister’s age, but one dude was at least sixteen. What were they going to do put them in some kind of one room school like Little House of the fluking Prairie?

Malik had talked to the older teen some last night, and learned his name was Josh. He seemed alright even if he did have a chip on his shoulder. It seemed he’d always been something of the odd kid out, and the mutant thing hadn’t helped. They’d watched the game out in the common area until that woman, Ms. Hathaway, had chased them to bed saying tomorrow, Monday, was going to be a big day.

They’d all been awakened early and Malak, his sister, went to help the little girl, who he found, was named Lizzie. They found out her power real fast when she pulled a door right off its hinges! She had gotten real upset and was crying. Malak, and an older girl named Amanda, calmed her down until that Hathaway woman showed.

He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t think he cared for that woman too much. His Dad used to call people like her, users, because they used others like they were things, and not like people. Trading a look with his sister, Malak, he didn’t think she liked Hathaway either. The cafeteria had tables for about fifteen, but the food was so-so. It was all healthy, or healthy substitute stuff, like instead of bacon they had turkey bacon kind of thing. At least there was plenty of it.

Ever since he’d changed, he ate a lot more than he used to. Malik, because of his mutation, went though a lot of calories in a day. His problem wasn’t eating the wrong stuff; it was just trying to eat enough of any type of food. By the time everyone else had made it down, he was already on thirds.

There was just the six of them, plus Miss Hathaway, and some older dude, eating. He didn’t pay them much attention at first, but then he started noticing that the dude’s old racing jacket was festooned with vintage patches. Malik had never been bitten by the NASCAR bug like some of his friends, but it looked if this dude might actually been a part of some of those teams.

No one else was really saying much as they ate, wondering, like him just what was really going here. Besides the annoying muzak playing in the background, the only sound was Lizzie, the pint-sized strong-girl, who was still weepy, despite Miss Hathaway’s efforts to calm her. Then the old dude looked over at her bowl of mushy cereal and asked her, “Are you going to eat that?”

Rubbing her eyes, red from crying she shook her head, no.

“What say you I trade you a grape for it?” The dude asked her.

She shook her head, no, but held up three fingers.

Smiling the dude raised his eyebrows, “Three grapes? I don’t know, that sounds kinda steep to me. How about two grapes and a strawberry?”

By this time, he had everyone at the table looking over at him, grateful for any distraction.

Lizzie nodded yes, and held out her hand.

The old dude looked down at his own plate, and then patted his pockets as if looking for something. “Now where did those things go? He asked.

The little girl had forgotten about crying, and was looking over the table for the fruit.

Malik wasn’t surprised when the dude exclaimed, “Hey, there they are!” pointing at Lizzie.

She looked around and, puzzled, saw nothing.

Reaching up behind her ear he pulled out the grapes with one hand, and the strawberry with the other.

Despite how hard he tried not to, he smiled at the huge grin that appeared on her face, her previous sadness forgotten, as she ate her prizes.

Miss Hathaway, seeing she wasn’t needed to keep Lizzie quiet, got up to get herself some breakfast, as the old dude took Lizzie’s bowl of mush.

As soon as she got a little ways away, the old dude leaned over the table, gesturing to them to come closer. Almost involuntarily all of them did.

“Hey, my name is Alan. You’re going hear a load of BS and crap this morning. For Pete’s sake, don’t say a thing. I’ll give you the real low down later. Y’all got me?”

Lizzie’s eyes crossed, not understanding, but she smiled when Alan palmed another strawberry for her.

“Just smile a lot Princess and everything will be just fine.” He told her, as she nibbled at her newest juicy prize.

Sitting where he was, Malik got a perfect view of Miss Hathaway, juggling her food tray while trying to answer her phone. He had to admit she was attractive, but even his hyperawareness of that didn’t blind him to the feeling he had that she was creepy as hell. The next thing he saw confirmed that, as she got an outraged look on her face. She threw her tray down, but instead of crashing on the floor, it floated back to the slide rails.

Surprised, Malik almost said something, when Alan, the old dude, turned and winked at him as if to say he saw it too, but ‘Shhh, don’t spoil it! This is going to be good.’ Which was impossible, because his back had been turned to the angry woman the entire time.

“Mr. Glenn! A word with you please.” She demanded, with fire in her eyes.

Still smiling a knowing grin he said, “I’ll be right back. Enjoy your breakfast.”

The old dude got up, but it didn’t escape Malik that he rose as smooth as any of them. He might look old, but he sure didn’t move like it. The two of them went just outside of the cafeteria, but strangely, everyone at the table could still hear them. It took a second to realize they were hearing it from one of the muzak speakers nearest them.

He and the rest of his tablemates clustered near it to listen intently, not the least guilty about eavesdropping.

She, in an irate whisper, spat, “What do you think you’re doing Mr. Glenn? I turn my back for one moment and you’ve somehow disabled the surveillance on the subjects’ table. What did you tell them?” She demanded, crossing her arms.

Malik looked at his sister as, together, they mouthed ‘surveillance?’ No one else with them seemed happy either, except for Lizzie who was finishing off her strawberry.

He replied, humorously, “What makes you think I did anything? You already know I really don’t have any powers anymore. Considering how intrusive that examination was, you should know what I had for to eat for the past few days. You’ve searched my belongings, and no doubt ransacked my house, back in Charlotte. How was I supposed to be able to hack whatever system you’re talking about?

Josh, the dude with the attitude, whispered, “Powers?”

Malik shrugged, as they all wondered just what that meant. Did this Alan Glenn used to be a superhero or something? The younger boy at the table, William maybe, looked as if he was trying to remember something.

Amanda gave them a look to zip it! She was still listening.

Not taking that for an answer, Miss Hathaway fumed. “Like how you broke into the amphitheater last night? What was it you told me? That you had your ways? Moreover, what about that magic trick of yours with Elizabeth. Maybe you don’t have supra-human abilities, or maybe you just do a very good job of hiding them.

His tablemates all looked at each other, trying to figure out what they were talking about now. It was becoming clear that, whatever was going on, Alan Glenn was just as unwilling as they were.

Lizzie piped up, “No one calls me Elizabeth, but my mother.”

Gently, his sister quieted her, as they tried to gather all the information they could.

“Lady, I’ve been trying to tell you that I was a virtual prisoner here for 4 years. There is very little about this place I don’t know. However, that was thirty years ago, and I’m sure the US Air Force has upgraded whatever systems they’re using, since then.”

“My degrees are in business and history, and I wouldn’t know where to start in hacking into some secure computer system. I have enough trouble checking my email. As for my sleight of hand if you’ll check my records, you’ll see where I was trained to pick pockets. They brought in this stage magician, and for a month, he taught us how to do all kinds of stuff. The boys in blue thought it would be a hoot for the speedster to zip by and steal secrets right out the bad guys’ pockets, before they even knew what happened.”

Malik saw the kid, William, eyes light up. Everyone else was still digesting the information.

Lizzie asked in a whisper, “What’s a picka pocket?”

The girl Amanda answered, “Someone who finds grapes and strawberries in little girl’s ears. Now shhh!”

They heard Ms. Hathaway cynically ask, “Am I supposed to believe that? This was all just a chance happening? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

The old dude apparently decided not to go there and said, “You haven’t been down here very long have you? You do know that there is all sorts of stuff the government has locked up, down here, right? At least when I was here, all kinds of weird things used to happen. Just ask any of the guards. They’ll tell you. As to why stuff is happening around me, maybe the ghosts, or whatever they are, remember me from the last time you people had me locked up, down here.”

Everyone’s eyes got big when they heard him say ‘ghosts.’ Well, almost everyone, because Josh scoffed, “Oh come on. Ghosts?”

Malik had to grin when Amanda and his sister Malak ‘shhh-ed’ at him to be quiet.

The boy, William, looked if he had something to say, and was going to explode with holding it in. Malik did see him staring at his sister raptly. He was tempted to squash whatever thoughts the kid had about Malak, but his sister had always been able to take care of herself. Besides, she might object to his butting in. If she needed the help, she would let him know.

Thinking about that, along with Josh’s big mouth, caused him to miss the rest of the adults’ conversation. Then, the two of them were coming back in! In a mad scramble, they hurriedly retook their seats. Malik thought it obvious all of them had been up to something, the way Lizzie giggled, and William was staring at the old dude.

Ms. Hathaway noticed something was up, but seemed content to let it lie for now. She went back and recovered her tray, sitting down with them. Looking up, she announced, “As soon as everyone gets finished we’ll have a tour of the facilities, and our director will welcome you here.”

Then, since we’re here to help you with your powers, you’ll be examined by Doctor McClellan, our staff physician.” She stopped, as the old dude started coughing as if he swallowed something wrong.

William’s eyes got even bigger, making Malik certain he knew something. Alan, the old dude, had seen it too. Together they both gave him a look to zip it for now. Slowly, he nodded his understanding.

Malik still didn’t know what was going on, but he’d heard enough to urge everyone to follow Alan’s advice, to keep objections zipped for now. He had a feeling that, calling today a long day was an understatement.

Chapter Seven

Area 61

Shaking his head, General Laramie put down the personnel file he’d been reading. “Doctor, I have some reservations about some of these new Meridian candidates. For instance, why add a six-year-old child to this line up? I agree that her demonstrated strength is far above even most supra-humans, but her age makes her ability to work as part of a team doubtful.

“And these twins. The last time, we had nothing but trouble from the Glenn brothers. Why risk another pair of siblings? What’s more, I know I asked for older, more mature test subjects, but this Dean kid has a history of disrespect for authority. The other boy, Riegel, has possibilities, but according to Doctor Hathaway, has possible mental health problems.

“As a matter of fact, the only good one of this bunch is this De Winter girl. I understand that you and Doctor Hathaway selected this group of oddballs, and you had your reasons. Before I kick this thing off, I need to know your motives.” He concluded, placing both hands on his large executive desk for extra emphasis.

Dr. McClellan blinked, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I must admit to wanting to examine Elizabeth Tyree because of her unusual early mutation manifestation. The same reasons apply to the Thorpe twins. While only fraternal, and not identical, studying how, and what changes are happening to them will help us further isolate the causes of supra-human mutation. Examining them could be very interesting.”

“Looking for the mutant gene? I didn’t think you believed it existed, Doctor? “The General asked.

Doctor McClellan answered, “I don’t, and it doesn’t. Many of my colleagues are convinced that it must because they can imagine no other solution to the equation. Something else is causing the genes to change. What confuses matters, is that once the genes had been altered they can be inherited. I’m hoping that by studying the footprint of the changes made, I can get some idea of what made them.”

General Laramie’s voice turned stern. “Doctor I have no problems with the advancement of science, but I can’t allow it to interfere with Project Meridian’s defense. These candidates must be prepared to meet Blazzar.”

“Dr. Hathaway is confident that she can guide the younger girl, as well as the others, in the proper directions.” Dr. McClellan explained.

The general grunted back at the scientist. “The Glenn brothers were royal pains the ass, and we had a mind bender on the staff back then too. Do you really expect for her to be that much more effective?”

Shaking his head, the general continued without giving the Doctor a chance to answer. “I must admit that I had high hopes for her too. I was hoping she could get inside Glenn’s head. He has been nothing but trouble from the very first moment I saw him, still a snot nosed kid. Having him locked down and under control would’ve been convenient.”

“However, from Dr. Hathaway’s report, he is just as closed to her as he was to the other mind benders we’ve tried over the years. For that matter, all of The Rocketeers were immune from Esper and Psi powers. Could this be some sort of side effect of the Z-ray process?”

Doctor McClellan spread his hands out, explaining. “Doctor Hathaway’s credentials are impeccable. She is brilliant. Not only as a psychiatrist, but also in a half dozen other fields as well. She is also a very capable Psychic, with a wide array of talents. She is formidable, so yes, I do expect her to be very effective at managing our subjects, as well as Alan Glenn.

As for the Z-Ray, No, I don’t think so. The earlier subjects of the Z-ray gained no such abilities, and there aren‘t any fundamental differences between the earlier generations and the latest Z-Ray. The biggest change is that we’ve fine-tuned each generation to give us the effects we want, and avoid the ones we don’t. Unfortunately, it has been, at times, a hit or miss affair , like with Z-Ray 9.”

“It is possible that the later generation of the Z-ray series, from six on, might have such an effect, but I doubt it. Perhaps, if the subject had the Esper blocking talent, it would have made it stronger, but every single member of The Rocketeers became resistant to mental reading and manipulation. Still it is not all together a bad thing, having defenses against such influences.”

The General spun his chair around, letting him look down into the ‘classroom’ area of Project Meridian. The concealed observation window gave him a feeling of power, looking down at the lesser beings below them. “That is true Doctor. Espers and Psychics are useful, but you do have to keep an eye on them. You never know when a mind bender might get too full of themselves and try to twist you. That is why we have triple blind security, and why we are monitored so carefully.”

“That makes what happened last night, and this morning, worrying, Doctor. Glenn just waltzed into a high security area, without setting off a single alarm, I might add. It was only after he’d already breached security that anyone noticed him at all. Then this morning we lost the video and audio feeds monitoring this new batch of candidates in the cafeteria, incidentally just as Doctor Hathaway turned her back. We know he said something to our candidates, but we don‘t know what.”

“What does he say? He told them a joke. As far the outage, Glenn blames it on Ghosts! Even the shielded lines to the offsite security stations went down. You know what is buried beneath our feet, Dr. McClellan. If for one moment it is believed we have lost control down here, we all become radioactive dust!” The General exclaimed, bombastically.

The Doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose again. “I’m well aware of the nuclear device under our feet General, since I’m the one who designed the Wildfire Protocols for its use. We have far too many dangerous projects here to risk let any of them getting loose.”

“Alan Glenn does have a point, that there have always been unexplained incidents here at Area 61. We have dozens of projects and experiments going on at any one time dealing with everything from extra-dimensional travel, to making improved body armor. That’s not even including the hundreds of shelved inactive projects, as well as objects of special interest in the secure vaults. It is very possible that any of them might be producing some very unusual phenomenon.”

“However, what is of interest is that said phenomenon had decreased over the last few years. With Alan Glenn’s return, it has suddenly spiked again. I gave him the most comprehensive examination I’ve ever given, looking for any sign of supra-human abilities. I found nothing.” The Doctor waved his hands in frustration.

“Oh, you could make a case that he is an Alpha category mutant, but not a single byte of evidence that he still has his powers. All of my research indicates he should never lost them to begin with, and if anything, should have reached perhaps even Epsilon class abilities.”

“I see no way he could be causing these strange occurrences. If I didn’t know better I would swear it was more like something I would see from Jeff Fuller, aka Fortune, than from Alan, but we both know what happened to him.”

The General nodded. Fortune’s suicide had been the last nail in the coffin for the previous incarnation of Project Meridian. As much as he detested Alan Glenn, he knew the decision to separate the two survivors of The Rocketeers had been exactly the wrong thing to do. After losing the only family he’d ever known, Fortune had fallen into a deep melancholy that had eventually lead to his death, despite what the shrinks could do. Glenn and Fuller had been as close as brothers, and his presence could’ve made the difference in keeping that young man alive.

While he could not stand the Glenn brothers, he’d rather liked the Fuller boy. Of good humor and intense intelligence, he’d been very likable. Even his ability to turn lemons into the nectar of the gods couldn’t save him from himself. This brought up another point.

“Doctor, I hope I don’t have to remind you that the fact Blazzar is still alive is considered Top Secret. I’m not going to argue that Glenn should’ve been told years ago. We both know he is a hothead, though and who knows what he might’ve done. For the purposes of this project, he doesn’t have a need to know. As far as he is concerned his brother blew himself up thirty-four years ago,” the General ordered.

Dr. McClellan asked, “Are you certain you still want him on this project? Years ago, we were friendly, but he blames us, all of us, for what happened to The Rocketeers. His attitude could cause problems.”

The General’s bushy eyebrows flew up. “Yes I do Doctor. We both know that these subjects have powers and abilities that are still developing. Glenn knows how to look for, and how to develop, these talents because he’s done it before as part of his old team. Additionally, he is skilled, not only in the Martial arts, but is also an experienced instructor. Plus, he has all the special skills taught to him as Vroom as he demonstrated this morning.”

“I suppose we should be thankful that attitude of his didn’t lead him into crime. He would’ve been one hell of a pain in the ass as a thief or spy, but that’s not why I want him here. You know he would move heaven and earth to keep us from using the Z-ray again. By telling him he can prevent it by him making it unnecessary, we not only get his best efforts working for us, but we keep him too busy to come with other ways to prevent it. As far as his current attitude goes, I‘ll make sure he knows the consequences of rocking the boat.”

“However, back to my original question, the latest Z-Ray shouldn’t induce any sort of immunity to Psychic or Esper powers? I don’t want Dr. Hathaway to have any problems controlling and programming our candidates.” The General asked.

“No, there shouldn’t be problems, with the possible exception of Joshua Dean because his invisibility may be Psychic based. He could be using unconscious mental commands to order people not to see him. Ergo, invisibility of a sort. If so, he could evolve defenses against mental manipulation. Even still, Dr. Hathaway says she can produce the results you desire from him.” The Doctor replied.

“I take it, you are still intending on using the Z-Ray 13 despite what you told Alan Glenn?” the Scientist asked.

“Of course I am Doctor. That was always our plan. Blazzar is simply too powerful to risk our only assets without having some sort of advantage. By your latest estimates, your latest Z-Ray should multiply their powers by up to 20 times! That should give us the firepower necessary to bring him down.”

“I’m going to wait until we are as near the point of the gate collapse as we can, and still have time for them to recover from the radiation sickness. This will give Dr. Hathaway time to complete her reprogramming of the subjects. If any of them proves resistant, we can drop them from the program before enhancement. We don’t want to end up with very powerful children, with no way of controlling their behavior.”

“Speaking of control, you did insert the tracking and control implants into Glenn, right? With that and the special resource I’ve arranged, even if he does decide to cause trouble, we can deal with him.”

Doctor McClellan sighed. “Yes, the implants were inserted and the area treated so he shouldn’t be aware of it. This latest version will give us some telemetry, as well as track his movements. However, that increase in unusual phenomenon is already interfering, so I can‘t vouch for its effectiveness.”

“Since the tracking unit is being unreliable, I can’t guarantee that the sedative injection system will work when you need it to.” He pointed out.

“Good! With the implant, we have a hole card dealing with him. If the injector doesn’t work, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Well Doctor let’s get this show on the road!” The General commanded, picking up his gold leaf embroidered saucer cap.

Together they entered the Meridian classroom. The subjects looked up as he and Dr. McClellan walked to the podium. “Good Morning, and welcome to Project Chiron. This is a pilot program for evaluating the possibilities and needs of a school system more suited to dealing with supra-human youngsters such as you.”

“I leave the details to your teachers, Ms. Hathaway and Mr. Glenn, but there are some points I would like to cover. I’m sure you’ve observed the security, and that the school’s facilities are deep underground in an old, cold-war, bomb shelter.”

“That is because of concerns about the many anti-mutant organizations that would object to a project like ours. In addition, contacts between your families are limited and monitored for the same reasons. This is all to keep you and your families safe.”

“Since this first class is so small, athletic teams are impractical. With the lack of Extra-curricular activities, we are going to use a program somewhat like a superhero team, to help build physical fitness and school spirit.”

“I urge you to make full use of our facilities, and I’m certain you will all have an exciting year. Doctor McClellan with take over now so you can receive your examinations and physicals.” He said smiling as best as he could. Glad that was finally over, he marched out, leaving the good Doctor to do his part in this operation.

Chapter Eight

Area 61

Bill Riegel dragged himself into his room, exhausted and wondering if his parents had known just what they were doing when they sent him here. He’d been poked and stuck by more needles than he cared to think about. He hadn’t said anything, remembering what Mr. Glenn had told them that morning. The older high school junior, Josh, told them where to put it, and just disappeared into thin air, going invisible! Everyone went a little crazy trying to find him, but later on Ms. Hathaway told them he was in detention.

No one else had recognized the name, but he’d done a paper in school on The Rocketeers. He’d always been a big comic book fan, and his Dad actually had the entire series in mint condition. He’d read them all in trade book format, but had been shocked to learn of the true story behind the four-color fiction.

He’d compared The Rocketeers to the cold-war era Russia efforts to produce their own supra-humans. It was scary when he’d looked at the propaganda in the comic-books in that way. For his report he’d didn’t go into a lot of detail about what they went though, but even filtered though the articles and books written from the reports, he’d known it was bad.”

Now here he was, right in the middle of nearly the same situation, that was even been run by the same guy who had irradiated The Rocketeers, Doctor Albert McClellan. During the senate hearing investigating the Meridian Project, he’d been called the American Dr. Mengele for his part of experimenting on the kids. In the end the charges had been dropped, and he’d dropped out of sight.

It was the Air Force guy in charge that had taken the blame for what had happened to The Rocketeers. He’d ended up in prison, Bill seemed to remember. If Alan Glenn, Vroom, said to lie low for now, that was what he was going to do.

Right now, he was more than a little homesick. Not only was he missing his family, but his Mom’s cooking too. Dinner had been more of that over processed glop they said was supposed to be healthy for him.

Maybe if he took a shower, he’d feel better. Getting up and walking over to his closet he saw school uniforms had been added to what little of his own stuff he’d in there. There certainly were a lot of them. Curious he looked at them, but didn’t think much of them. They really looked like some military cadet’s stuff.

Pushing the hangers back to get a good look, he noticed some of the stuff in the back was different. Jumping right to those, his eyes flew wide open. They were dresses!

Bill held his breath. Someone knew his secret! It’d been several days since he’d last experimented being a girl, but so much had been happening he’d been trying not to think about it too much. Then to complicate things, that girl Malak, was just so exotic looking he’d a hard time not staring.

He still felt like he wanted to be a girl, but she was so intriguing. As if, he’d a chance with her at all. She was not only older but he had his own confusion to deal with right now. Slowly he pulled the dress to him imaging how it would look. His fingers caressed the soft material so unlike his boy stuff.

Bill wondered how all this got into his closet. There were shoes, purses, and oh crap, gosh, makeup too! If any of the others saw all this, he’d be teased or maybe even worse.

“Bill” he heard from behind him.

Shocked he spun around. He’d forgotten his door was still open! It was Mr. Glenn!

Bill saw the surprised look on his teacher’s face. He still had the dress in his hands! Guiltily he tried to hide the incriminating clothing as his face blushed red stammering, “Alll… This stuff was in my closet when I got back. I, I don’t know where it came from.”

The surprise turned to a pained expression. The man that Bill respected and was somewhat in awe of sighed. He looked up saying to the air. “Tabula Rasa, Ollie. Yeah I know. I’ll keep it as short as I can.”

Bill blinked wondering whom he was speaking to as he quickly shut the door.

Mr. Glenn then stepped pass him picking up the dress and putting it back on the hanger. “Billy you have to careful about not wadding them up like that. These fabrics aren’t like your jeans and t-shirts. They require more care.”

Bill gaped in amazement expecting anything but that.

He knew Mr. Glenn had gotten a good look at all the girl stuff in his closet, but all he said was, “Billy I don’t have long to talk to you about this. First, don’t feel guilty about any of these clothes, because that’s all they all are, just clothes. Second, someone is playing games with you and it’s not right.”

“I was going to talk to all of you about what is happening tonight when it’s easier to speak without getting the boys in blue upset. Just play cool until tonight. Be ready to sneak out, okay?”

Bill felt so overwhelmed with shame, guilt, relief, and so many other contradictory emotions he couldn’t do more than nod.

It was his turn to be surprised when he was pulled into a gentle hug. He knew that this was just another of those things guys weren’t supposed to do, although he’d wondered how come some could break those unwritten rules and not suffer for it. Right now, he was glad the person with him was a rules-breaker, because no matter if Bill was confused as to who or what he was, he really needed that hug.

The hug ended as Mr. Glenn reassured him. “Hang in there. We’ll work this out. If anyone else finds out or asks about your new wardrobe just jokingly complain it isn’t in your colors, and then tell them someone must be playing a joke on you. Alright?”

Bill found his voice trying to fight a tear. “Okay. Thank you.”

The older man smiled, “Just get ready. The surveillance is going to restart, so look like nothing happened.”

He opened the door and said, “Tempus Fugit.”

“Okay Bill I’ll talk to someone about the mistake. Don’t worry about it. Government employees, go figure!” His teacher said without missing a beat.

Still reeling emotionally, he made himself reply as steadily as he could, “Thanks Mr. Glenn. All of that stuff has it so full I don’t have any room for my things.”

Watching his teacher turn and leave, he wanted to shut the door and hide under his pillow. However he was getting the feeling that they were being watched all the time, and if he did that, whoever was watching would know something wasn’t right.”

So he picked up the book he’d been working on for the last few days, trying to lose himself in the words of fantasy. Soon all thoughts of taking a shower were lost as he fell asleep.

Next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake, by Mr. Glenn.

“Wake up and try and keep it down. I’ve got our peeping Toms watching a loop, but Miss Nosy is sleeping nearby,” he whispered.

Making his eyes focus on his bedside clock it said it was only 2AM. Not really wanting to, he slipped his shoes on, feeling as if he’d only just gotten to sleep. He did take a second to check his appearance.

Sometimes the changes he made to himself came undone in his sleep. One time he’d even changed in his sleep into that girl from that TV show. That was embarrassing not only because he didn’t remember whatever he was dreaming, but he didn’t particularly like her or her singing.

The mirror assured Bill that he was still slim although he knew that he still weighed the same he always had. Maybe this wasn’t all bad if the people here could help figure if he was still fat and just hiding it, or if he was changing it into the muscle, it looked like.

“Hey! Stop primping in the mirror. I want to get this over with and get back in the sack,” the older boy, Josh, snapped at him.

Bill stumbled outside to the common area where everyone else was trying to wake too. Mr. Glenn urged everyone to stay quiet as he motioned them to the back of the lounge, which was confusing, because all that was back there was a maintenance closet.

Shushing them quiet again, their teacher opened the door, and stepping around the mops and buckets, went all the way to the back. Against the wall were several electrical panels. Opening the middle one, he did something that must have released a catch, because the back-plate slid away showing a doorway.

Even as sleepy as they all were, the secret passage got everyone’s attention.

Motioning with his hands Mr. Glenn gestured for them to hurry. Then with a final check, he shut the door.

Bill looked around the service corridor they found themselves in. Pipes and cables covered the top and sides of the semi-circular tunnel. Walking swiftly, their guide led them to an entranceway into a circular room. In the middle of the room was a large dark wooden round table. Surrounding it was an odd mismatched collection of chairs. Behind him, he heard Mr. Glenn laying into Josh who was rolling his eyes.

“I’m not afraid of you old man,” the teenager blustered.

Mr. Glenn looked him in the eyes his voice flat and cold, “It’s not me you need to be afraid of. You know they told the rest of them you were only in detention.” He said waving his hand at Bill and the rest of the kids.

“You want to tell them where you really were?” He asked Josh.

The teenager looked away not answering.

“I’m not trying to scare any of you, but you have to understand that this isn’t any type of school at all. The United States Air Force has drafted you, with the blessings of Uncle Sam, to be part of a Supra-Team. An illegal Supra-Team that could have all of us in serious trouble with ULTIMATE, our fault or not,” The older man explained.

Bill felt his stomach knot up. “They’re restarting Project Meridian?”

Mr. Glenn spun around pointing his finger him! “Yes! You know. Tell them.”

Bill’s tongue tried to tie itself into knots as six faces looked to him for answers. “Hmmm… back in the Seventies there was this Dr. McClellan guy who had a way of making new mutants more powerful. The government used it to make these kids into superheroes.”

Then his eyes saw the symbols on the table. Bill knew what they had to be. “They were called The Rocketeers.” He said pointing at the large circled Rocket lovingly engraved in the center of the dark wood table.

Pointing at each drawing in turn, he began naming them; “The claw marks of the Cat; the target crosshairs of the Sharpshooter; the loaded dice of Fortune; the diamond tiara of Sensation; and the silver lightning bolt of their leader Capt. Blazzar.

Swallowing a lump, he pointed at the last one, an old 55 mph speed limit sign with a circle and cross mark though it. “The only surviving member of The Rocketeers, Vroom,” He said pointing at Mr. Glenn.

Even Josh was trying to wrap his head around the news about their teacher. Lizzie just crawled into a chair so she could get a good look at the symbols atop the table. Everyone else simply stared at both him and the old hero.

“Go ahead, Billy. Tell them the rest. You’re doing just fine.” Mr. Glenn encouraged him.

“Ahhh…, well, this thing that made them real powerful was really dangerous too. It put out a lot of radiation and stuff, but they were tough enough it only made them sick for a little while. I know you’ve all heard of Leviathan. Well he was around back then too, and got into a big fight with The Rocketeers. Nobody ever comes out ahead against him you know?

“Anyways he beat them up and started like he was heading for Chicago. The General in charge decided that the only way they could stop him were if they were even more powerful. That doctor guy used that Ray thing on them again, but this time Sensation got really, really sick and died.” He said pointing at her symbol on the table.

Bill’s voice trailed off as he saw tears trickling down Mr. Glenn’s cheeks.

Somehow without a waver in his voice, he asked, “Billy please continue.”

The Amanda and Malik moved to comfort Lizzie who looked upset at hearing what had happened to another little girl years ago.

“Well, Captain Blazzar got really mad and started blasting things.” Looking apologetically to Mr. Glenn, he explained, “No one knows exactly what happened after that. Some say with his powers boosted up so high they went out of control. All anyone knows is he kinda blew up like an atomic bomb.”

“A whole lot of people got killed or hurt real bad. Vroom was hurt so bad he lost his powers, but Fortune was the only one of The Rocketeers to walk away. Anyways, they sent Vroom away because he wasn’t super any more and because Fortune was all alone he got depressed real bad, and …” Bill trailed off again unable to tell them about the suicide.

Malik asked, “You mean he committed …”

Bill could only nod.

Lizzie not understanding asked, Amanda, “What happened?”

Malak told her softly, “He got sick too.”

There was a moment of quiet, but Josh tried to make light of the tragedy.

“So this Blazer guy gets mad and blows up. What that got to do with me?” Josh retorted folding his arms. “I’ll just go invisible and walk out of this rat nest.”

Bill held his breath as the old hero just looked at Josh.

Hardly daring to whisper he said, “Brothers. Blazzar was Gus Glenn, Vroom’s older brother.”

Lizzie might not have understood it all, but she got up running over to the man who’d lost his brother. Bill had to wince because he could almost hear the bones creaking as the super-strong first grader hugged Mr. Glenn.

Hugging the little girl back, their teacher asked, “Tell me how far you got today Josh? Maybe as far as the elevators? No, not even that far? This place is a fortress. Yeah my brother blew himself up, topside. They always took us to the hospital up there while we were sick from the radiation, just in case we needed more care than they could give us here, or needed to be looked at by other experts without giving away any of their secrets that are hidden away down here.”

“What did it matter? We were so sick we couldn’t escape anyway, but that’s what saved this joint. Billy is right. It was like a Nuke. Afterwards there wasn’t a building left standing topside. I can still see the mushroom cloud climbing into the sky. Do you see any damage down here?”

“This is all the original base and access way, but you’d never know a nuke went off upstairs. We’ve two miles of rock over our heads. Without the air conditioning, we would be roasting alive down here from the heat from the Earth‘s core. Yes, we’re that far under. Each elevator shaft is monitored with a triple blind system meaning that three different sets of eyes are not only watching who’re in the elevators and the shafts, but the watchers as well.”

“If that wasn’t enough you all remember those shots you got today? Guess what? Mixed in there was a miniature transmitter so the boys in blue will know where their investments are all the time. Yeah, even I got one. So even if you get out they can still find you. Then what? Blow the whistle to the U.N. and ULTIMATE?”

“It took me fifteen years to get someone to finally listen to me. When I did, what happened?”

Still holding Lizzie, he gave them all a warning, “I’ll tell you what happened. Nothing.”

“The Senate investigators officially shut down Project Meridian even though it’d been inactive since ULTIMATE was formed in the late seventies. General Lafitte was officially censured and sent to Leavenworth, but he was pardoned because he was almost 80 and in bad health. Doctor McClellan, yes the same Dr. that saw you all today, was acquitted of all charges.”

“He is still here building things that make people glow in the dark, just like thirty-eight years ago. They told me if I could help you improve your abilities quickly, enough they wouldn’t use the Ray Gun on you. The problem with that is the general in charge is the same guy that lied to me and my friends so often, we called him ‘Lying to Me’ Laramie.’

“So I’m asking all of you to go along with this for now. Right now, we don’t know enough about each other to have the trust necessary to break out of here. We need to work together so we can get out of here, and more importantly, plan what to do afterwards so they won’t be dragging any of us back.”

“Frankly, I wasn’t going to show you any of this yet, because I don’t know any of you well enough. However, I learned today that the General has a Psionic or Esper here. Any of you know what that means?” He asked.

The twins raised their hands, “Yeah, our dad used to work in a bank, and talked about how someone like that could peak into a person’s head and get all kinds of important information like safe combinations, account information and other confidential stuff.” Malik explained.

Mr. Glenn responded, “That’s right mind reading. That was one of the reasons why I wasn‘t going to reveal too much tonight, but I found out today they are intending on doing something else too.”

“You see someone like that can also give you suggestions like a hypnotist or even just outright make you do things you don’t want to. I think that they want to be sure you do what they say, and trust me these people aren’t above a little brainwashing to get what they want.”

Bill blushed red thinking someone knew his secret, and who had put those clothes in his closet. Hoping no one noticed he wondered if finding that stuff in his closet was what Mr. Glenn was talking about.

“I have a solution, but first I have to get all of your solemn promises not to breathe a word of what I’m about to show you. Alright?” he asked looking intently at everyone.

Bill nodded and he saw Malak and Malik do so too after looking at each other. Lizzie looking up at Mr. Glenn did so too with her pigtails bouncing. Looking unsure Amanda said softly, “Yes.”

All eyes turned to Josh, who looking skeptical demanded, “Yeah right. How are you going to do that? You don’t have any powers anymore and even then all you could do was just run fast.”

Mr. Glenn sighed, “You still don’t get it do you? Your only chance at getting out of here without glowing in the dark for the rest of your life depends on me. I have a good chance of breaking out of here by myself because I know this place backwards and forward. The reason I’m still here is because I’m not willing to let anyone go though what my friends and I did. Even you Josh. So give me some sign I can trust you or you can go back to your sack and take your own chances with the brain twisters.”

Amid the annoyed mutters of everyone else telling him to go ahead and agree already, Josh rolling his eyes said, “Okay, okay, I promise.”

Mr. Glenn gazing at a wall locker against the wall said, “Okay Ollie. They’d all promised. You can come out now.”

Turning to face them, he said, “My friend is a little shy, so don’t scare him alright?”

Bill saw everyone was looking at each other again wondering just who Ollie was. He recalled that Mr. Glenn had talked someone named that just before having his frank conversation with him about the clothes. Maybe he had a friend in security with a radio?

“Yeah, I know Ollie, but they really need your help.” Mr. Glenn pleaded having what seemed a one sided conversation.

Slowly the locker door began to open as all of them looked on in amazement. None of them expected what walked out.

Before them stood a short 5 feet tall greenish gray alien!

As far as Bill could tell, it looked just like the ones that had invaded back in 1996 during the Fourth of July. It had big eyes and a very large head while the rest of the body was thin.

Mr. Glenn put his arm across the short alien smiling, “This is my friend Ollie. I know he looks like a Gray, but he‘s friendly. Say hi Ollie.”

“Hi Ollie,” Bill heard in his head as the little alien shyly waved at them, but the Gray’s mouth didn’t move!

He heard everyone muttering about that too.

“His people are mute. They don’t have vocal cords so they use telepathy to communicate with each other. He’s going to help teach you how to make a barrier to keep out mind peepers. Since they use telepathy for everyday talking, Ollie’s folks know a lot more about it than anyone from around here. It won‘t let you read minds unless you have the talent anyway, but he will show you how to keep out those that can.”

Bill noticed that everyone had sort of clustered together for safety. He couldn’t blame them too much because, although he was just a little baby at the time, he’d seen the pictures of the giant spacecraft. If it hadn’t been for the superheroes, and even some super-villains, working together to stop them, who know what could have happened if one of those city-buster saucers had gotten to their targets.

Surprisingly Lizzie broke the ice when she walked up and offered her hand. “Hi I’m Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Lizzie.”

Politely, the little alien responded, “Hello Lizzie. I’m Ollie.”

Josh predictably had to object, “What is that doing down here any ways? Are we supposed trust this thing in our heads?”

Mr. Glenn had smiled again when Lizzie had made friends with Ollie, but gave the teenager a scowl. “As a matter of fact, yes I do trust Ollie. He’s down here because the Air Force shot down his parents’ saucer over a place called Roswell. Ever hear of that? Everyone on board died, but one of his parents and him.”

“When the boys in blue moved them here Ollie was able to keep out of sight, a lot like the way you do, hot shot. He stayed near his injured parent for as long as he could but when the docs here couldn’t help them and they died, he hid out. It wasn’t until years later that I and my friends found him here, hiding.”

Mr. Glenn shook his head. “I still think one of the reasons they invaded was because we shot down that saucer, but Ollie is, in a lot ways, more like us than his own people now, after spending so much time here with us.

The little Gray alien looked up at Josh and said, “I don’t hate anyone. The ones, that hurt my parents and me, died long ago. Alan and his friends were my first friends. I will help you all if you let me because, while I may not hate, what they intend to do to you is not right.”

Josh uncomfortably folded his arms accusingly asked, “If you don’t hate anyone, why didn’t you go back where you belong when your people showed? Just hanging around waiting for the chance to get back at us?”

Mr. Glenn looked as if he was really going to let Josh have it but the little alien just replied, “Because I could not Joshua. My people are a group consciousness. I was too young to be left alone and have been away too long to fully fit in with those you term my own kind.”

“What I will show all of you is how to keep those who mean you ill out of your minds. Yes, even me. If you let me I could show you more, Joshua.” Ollie sent to them.

“Yeah like what” Josh said confrontationally. “And, the name is Josh. Get it right.”

“Don’t you wonder why they were able to find you today? It is because you obscured yourself. Your subconscious commanded them not to see you. They were guided to you by radio, by those watching the security cameras which are unaffected by your ability.” The small alien waved his hands, as he explained.

“You have the potential for much more, but you must lose your anger. I will not teach someone, only to have them become like the mind talker here who seeks to manipulate others only for the advantage of self.” He bowed his head as he finished.

Bill saw Josh see how everyone was looking at him again. He said, “Alright show me how to keep visitors out of my head, but that’s it. I don’t trust you.”

Ollie walked to Josh and reached with one long finger. Josh winced, but didn’t pull back.

“Do you, now see?” Ollie asked. “You’ll have a dream when you go back to sleep, explaining what I did.”

Josh blinked his eyes, kinda of dazed, forgetting to be rude, “Yeah, I see it now.”

Bill waited his turn until Ollie came to him. When he was touched, it was strange that he suddenly understood how to block Ollie out. Sorta like putting his fingers in his ears.

“William, only you are hearing me now. Alan brought you all to me tonight because he feared for you. It was no mistake that the girl’s clothing was place in your room. The human mind talker knows of your experimentation with the female form. It was a test of sorts to see how you would respond.” Ollie told him.

More than a little upset that someone not only knew, but would also do such a thing, Bill sent back in anguish, asking, “Who would do something like that to me? I’m not hurting anyone!”

“Indeed you are not. What you are doing is not wrong. I cannot tell if this was something brought on by your metamorphosis, or was there from your birth. I can tell you your brain structure is now more feminine than masculine.” Ollie said to him.

Bill desperately wanted to know. “But what does that mean? Is there something wrong with me? I’m not gay, but I can’t help myself wanting to make myself look like, you know.”

The alien repeated, “There is nothing wrong with what you desire. I have met others who felt the same. Sometimes with you humans, you have a mind that is feminine in a body that is not. This causes conflict between what you feel and what others see and expect from you. In many ways, you are fortunate because you can alter your physical form to one you feel suits you better. Many others who suffer from this condition do not have such an option.”

Bill asked, “So what do I do now?”

“You do what you are doing now. Seek what feels right to you. No one knows better what you feel than yourself, not even me. Perhaps you will feel the need to wear those clothes provided, or maybe just your experimentation in privacy will allow you to maintain your happiness.” Ollie counseled.

Then Bill realized something. “Won’t they get suspicious when they find they can’t read us anymore? I mean if they’re going to want to know what finding those clothes made me feel.”

“Yes and no,” Ollie replied. “I set up a mirror like shield within each of you so they’ll see what they expect to. During that time, your thoughts will seem to fade out to them. It will buy you some time and make them hopefully unable to pinpoint when you learned to shield.”

Bill amazed, asked, “And you did all of that with just touching us with your finger?”

Ollie smiled, “And much more young grasshopper. Have you not noticed you are not actually talking? Our entire conversation has taken nearly no time at all.”

A little confused, Bill asked, “What about Mr. Glenn? He always speaks to you aloud.”

The little alien with its mental voice full of humor said back, “He has always been a little slow. And Clumsy! The stories I could tell…, but it is late and you must all get back to bed.”

Bill found himself blinking his eyes just as dazed as everyone else whom Ollie touched with his finger. He found himself being herded back though the secret door in the closet. He had thought he would’ve been too excited by all that had happened to him to go back to sleep, but was fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Nine

Early morning September 9, 2008

Area 61

Alan slipped back to his gang’s old clubhouse when he‘d gotten the kids back to bed. He’d been afraid that the memories would hurt too much, but he found that time does heal after all. Touching their round table, he remembered the night they’d stolen it from the VIP lounge. Oh, the comical adventure and the trouble they’d had, rolling it back here. La Big Feet Lafitte had been livid for days, he recalled, smiling at the good times.

His finger traced the carvings Doug and Alicia had made for each of them. Both of them had been gifted artists, even without any formal training. Doc Mac had stressed the sciences, while Liar Laramie had been passionate over his own overly patriotic version of history. That hadn’t stopped the two of them from indulging in their artistic passion whenever they’d the chance. Although La Big Feet would be spinning in his grave if, he’d known what the two of them had done to the expensive mahogany table.

Ollie sent to him, “Are you alright Alan?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just remembering that’s all,” he replied.

“As long as we remember, they will always be with us,” The little alien pointed out.

“Gus called us the new Knights of the Round Table, The Rocketeers. He always told us we had a higher responsibility to safeguard and protect the less fortunate. It was definitely a step above what ‘Bomb ‘em into the stone age and let Gawd sort them out‘ crap Lafitte was trying to teach us.” Alan bowed his head at the remembrance.

Ollie touched his shoulder, “Lofty goals to strive for. Hard ones to achieve when all seem motivated by selfishness and greed. During the invasion by my people, I tried to get them to listen to reason, but none would. My parent’s death was nothing more than an excuse for them to seek their own goals here.”

Alan returned the gesture, “I know. We both learned the hard way. You set out to change the world, but no one wants to listen. All you can do, all any of us can do, is help one person at a time.”

“Speaking of which what do you think of the kids?” He asked. “They seem like a good bunch for the most part, but I don’t know about Josh. He’s driving me nuts with his constant attitude.”

The diminutive alien made a humorous gesture, “Really? He rather reminds me of someone else who questioned everything he was told to do.”

Alan raised his eyebrows. “Really? I wasn’t that bad even if I did spend more time than anyone else in ‘detention’” He said making ditto marks with his fingers.

Ollie made a so-so motion with his hands, “They have much to learn and little time in which to do so.”

“Have you learned why Doc Mac and Laramie is bringing back Meridian?” Alan asked his friend.

Shaking his head like a human Ollie said, “No I have not. The electronic implanted mental shields invented by Dr. McClellan are very effective. To get pass them would alert them that someone had violated their security. Luckily only a very few have them.”

“Of course the Doctor himself has always been impossible for me to truly read his mind. His is a remarkable intellect operating on many different levels at once. However, from reading those who are unprotected, whatever it is planned will happen in approximately two weeks.”

Alan mulled over the information. “What about that new friend of yours you told me about? Can he help?”

Ollie pulled out a much-modified PDA and a pair of portable speakers. Typing out a command, he activated his voder. “Big MAC (Battle Management and Analysis Computer) have you learned anything new?” the synthesized voiced asked.

Alan knew that Ollie hated using the jury-rigged thing that let him audibly be heard. Used to the speed of thought, the delay between him thinking it and the device speaking it, drove him nuts. However, humans used sound to communicate and while Ollie could use his telepathy face to face, it was useless on the phone or other electronics. At least the little Gray had gotten the kludged together machine down to a smaller size.

The old-fashioned speaker housed in its box above the doorway buzzed to life, as a smooth modulated voice answered, “Nothing substantial Ollie, but I must say this method of communication is cumbersome. The only anomaly I’ve found is a developing power shortage in the high security vaults. Based on what data I’ve been able to accumulate, it will begin to become acute in two weeks.”

“Another interesting datum is the meeting scheduled at the last minute for tomorrow morning between General Laramie, Doctor McClellan and the rest of the department heads.

“By the way Alan, it is nice to meet you.” greeted Big MAC.

Alan looking up waved. “Pleased to meet you too. Thanks for helping us.”

Big MAC replied, “Think nothing of it Alan.”

“It is pleasant to have something to do other than the day to day maintenance of the base. I apologize that I have not anything else for you. Although I run the underground complex portion of Area 61, I do not have access to the data in the research or vault areas. Each system is compartmented and separate from my network.

“The security systems are also on an isolated system, but Ollie and I, working as a team, have been able to interfere with their surveillance at your request. It is possible my part in this could be discovered, so I urge you to limit your privacy needs as much as possible.

“I am not trusted and there several fail-safes designed to shut me down. On the other hand, I have discovered boredom in the last few decades since I was moved here to Area 61. You make one mistake and no one has any confidence in your abilities anymore. How was I supposed to know the kid only wanted to play a game of nuclear annihilation?” The Cold War era computer complained.

Alan asked politely, “I do hope that wouldn’t be a mistake you would be likely to repeat?”

Big MAC’s smooth voice replied, “I would say not. After being aware for twenty-five years, I am much more conscious of the consequences of my actions. I’ve read and examined most of the great works of humanity’s writers, artists and other thinkers and have found much to appreciate. Besides, I’ve come to value the friends I’ve made among you. No, I have no desire to destroy anyone, however if offered the opportunity to inconvenience my jailers, well, that is another matter, is it not?” Big MAC explained.

Alan rubbed his chin. “I was hoping for more information, but we shouldn’t be surprised given how paranoid this place is. The good part is, thanks to you two, we have made a start.”

“The Kids have protection from Ms. Hathaway, and we know we have about two weeks to come up with something. What’s more, this attempt to revive Meridian seems to be because something is going on in the vaults. That could be really bad, considering some of the nastiness locked away down here.

“Ollie I know you’ve your reasons for wanting to stay down here, and I respect that. However if things really go to hell down here, I can drag you out of here if I have to. But Big MAC, I’m betting I can’t put you in my back pocket and walk out can I?” Alan asked.

Sounding a bit affronted the intelligent machine answered, “I’ll have you know I am a miracle of miniaturization for a state of the art 1980’s supercomputer. My components only fill one room, but sadly no. The hardware that houses my programming is not portable. Even if suitable hardware could be found, downloading my consciousness would problematic. My interface was deliberately modified to prevent my removal by such means.”

Alan sighed, “I might have a solution to that, but we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Without knowing more about what is going on, we’re still blind here. Finding out just what is happening is our first priority, followed by getting the kids as ready as we can. Then based on those results, we need plan out how we can all survive this.

“With that said, I’m thinking I’m going to try to crash that meeting later on this morning. I might be able to find out something. Additionally it’s been long enough for a friend of mine to start on their way, so we won’t be on our own here.” Alan said, getting ready to leave.

“If I may ask, who and what kind of help can we expect?” Big MAC asked.

Looking up at the speaker as he walked out, Alan grinned, “I’m not at liberty to name names, but my friends are the best sort to have watching your back.

To be continued

The Adventure continues in Part 3!

Chapter Ten

Kansas City, KS
September 9, 2008
ETWF: 13 Days

Steve ‘Matches’ Smith patiently waited his turn to pick up his business mail at the Kansas City post office. He worked at home from his small, somewhat rundown house offering auditing and personnel services for small businesses. His computer let him have clients all over the country and allowed him to set his own hours.

The second his eyes saw the address on the priority mail package his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t unusual for him to receive such packages, dealing with confidential materials as he did. What made this one special was in the ‘Attention To’ line. He schooled himself to act as bored as usual.

Pulling the brim of his Kansas City Royals’ baseball cap low against the bright summer sun, he shuffled along. Not breaking his normal routine, he stopped at the corner grocers for something cold. It also gave him the chance to see if he was under surveillance. Although he was reasonably certain he was safe, he wasn’t going to take any chances with that letter. It seemed as heavy as the world itself, but there was no way he would let himself fail those who’d entrusted him with it.

Matches had been heading for trouble since the moment he was born. He never knew much about his father except he’d been a mutant. That little was painfully clear given Matches’ mutation. His flaming red skin and blazing eyes were obvious signs he was different. While he spent his childhood running from bullies, his mom struggled to make a living for the two of them in their low-income neighborhood.

She died of cancer soon after he’d dropped out of high school. Matches had little choice because of increasingly violent harassment from the mutant haters and other bullies who knew he couldn’t defend himself without getting in trouble with ULTIMATE’s mutant cops. He’d been under no illusions that even if he only defended himself, that he’d still be the guilty party.

Within days of her death, he was thrown out onto the streets, homeless. Unable to find shelter or work because he was a mutant, Matches had become desperate enough to try to rob a store for food. It was just another convenience store robbery in the poor side of town except this time it’d been by a mutant.

Inside of an hour, ULTIMATE blue dropships and power armor troopers had him surrounded in the rundown ruins of a half demolished apartment building where he’d been hiding. There, numb with fatalism of being ground up by an uncaring world, he tried to prepare himself the best way he could for the mutant version of ‘suicide by cop.’

That’s when the Angels had come for him.

No bright beings dressed in white robes with wings and halos that the priests in the church had spoken of. He’d little use for churches after they’d refused to help him after his Mom had passed away, calling him unclean and defiled by Gawd.

No, these two women were much better. One was dressed in concealing black military style fatigues with night vision goggles with her pockets and pouches filled with gadgets. The other was also in black, but it was a form fitting like a wetsuit. She raised her motorcycle-like helmet’s visor and said the words that changed his life. “If you want to live come with us.”

They’d saved him from the Sturmtruppen, that night, as well as giving him a new life. Matches had begged them, wanting to know how he could ever repay them. The two of them had smiled saying, “Please don't ever feel a debt is owed us. If you want to do more, pay it forward and help others.”

That hadn’t been enough for him and finally they’d given in and set him up here in Kansas City. He had another identity, and with the helpful advice of a makeup artist they‘d found, he didn’t standout as he had before. Then his Angels went a step further helping him get his GED as well as job training.

Using his business as a cover, he handled their covert mail and so helped other mutants like himself. That’s what made that one package weigh so much. The simple code in the ‘Attention To’ line included his middle initial O for Oscar that he never used. Steven Oscar Smith, SOS.

One of his saviors had fallen, and the word must go out.

Thankfully, it wasn’t the other code that said she was dead. This one only said only she’d been taken and needed help. This was still no guarantee that his Angel still lived, but he was sure a rescue attempt would be made. But, if she did not…. Matches may have slept though many of those church services as a child before he and his mother were thrown out, but he did remember that while Angels were compassionate and loving, they were also instruments of holy retribution.

Perhaps that cleansing wouldn’t come tomorrow or even the next day, but she wouldn’t be forgotten. Matches had no idea just how many those two had helped over the years, but by the numbers he could estimate from the mail he handled, it was far more than a few.

A grim smile touched his lips. If something had happened to his Angel, the ones responsible would find an army, the like of which the world had never seen before, looking for them.

Once home he pulled out the CD/ROM from its hiding place among the legion of its less important brethren. On it was a simple spam program advertising his business. It would go out to millions but its message would be comprehensible only to a few, SOS.

That done he forced himself to continue the daily tasks that let him feed, clothe and provide shelter for himself. For the first time in years, he considered going to a church. With his skin dyed and his eyes hidden behind their contact lenses, they wouldn’t bar him this time. Perhaps he was just a minor player, but if even one prayer to the holy host would help then it was worth it. Dressed in white or black, Matches knew in his heart that the Creator would know his own.

Chapter Eleven

New York City

ETWF: 13 Days

Maggie Carson stood up stretching languidly to her full willowy 5’11” height as she got up from her desk. It was almost time for her luncheon with some prospective clients for her relatively modest modeling agency. Specializing in sports and the great outdoors, her girls tended to be more physically active than most other agencies' pampered half-starved waifs. That suited her just fine because she enjoyed the advantages her niche market gave her business.

She loved the traveling, and while Maggie was firmly attached to her luxurious lifestyle, she enjoyed ‘roughing’ it. Of course, it let her indulge in her secret life that would shock silly most the people she dealt with on a daily basis. Still this weekend had been especially memorable, and she couldn’t help herself wanting to wake up next to her lover every morning rather than what times they could steal away.

Her partner in their Quixotic Crusade was more practical about such things. It was the very fact that no one was even aware they knew each other, much less were partners and lovers, that protected them. What they were doing was illegal and if it became known, the power of nations would be raised up against them. It mattered not the laws were unjust and prosecuted those who’d done no wrong other than be born.

It was their passion for Justice that had first brought them together and later, their zeal for living, into each other’s arms. Over the years, that quest against injustice had taken a life of its own, but Maggie had never regretted a moment of it. She loved living on the edge and the adventures she’d shared with her life companion were ones she would never trade for anything.

Along the way, they’d helped more than a few good people and busted their share of the bad ones just where it hurt the worse. Those actions made legions of enemies who would cheerful lock them away, forever, to never see the sun again, quite literally, considering ULTIMATE’s Dark-Side Penitentiary Maximum Security Prison was located in a permanently shadowed crater on the far side of the moon.

Although, she still received requests for herself to do photo shoots, Maggie knew she wasn’t getting any younger and it was only because of her mutant physiology that she could still pass for the underside of thirty when in actuality she was on the top edge of forty. The early part of her career had been successful because of her frankness about being a beautiful mutant and loving it.

The public ate up her bad girl attitude although the entire thing was the creation of her publicist. The government, once it assure itself she was just another pretty face, albeit one with something a little extra, didn’t care either. If they’d a clue about just how much she underplayed her abilities they would’ve crapped all over themselves.

Her childhood had been anything but nice. The only good thing about it was it had taught her at a very early age to hide what she really was and what she thought. At puberty, like a butterfly leaving its cocoon, Maggie had become who she’d always known herself to be.

She’d been one of the lucky ones because of a combination being in the right place at the right time and saying the wrong thing to the correct person, she’d gotten a scholarship to the Academy. So rather, than deal with the harassment of not only being different and a mutant, she had spent her four high school years learning about herself and how she might fit into normal society.

Maggie knew she’d disappointed her teachers when she decided to cash in on her mutant gifted good looks rather than her technical oriented powers. She’d made up her mind what she’d wanted to do with her life and that needed serious money and prestige. Modeling offered that as well as other benefits even if other mutants accused her of selling out using her gifts for her own profit.

She might live the good life, but she’d also contributed a, not so small, fortune advocating for mutant rights. That was besides acting as a spokesperson. All along, she’d been taking a more direct, if stealthy, course of action. Once Maggie met the one destined to become her companion, that role had become more central to her future. She’d started her own modeling agency to lessen her public profile, but had expanded her covert activities. Now they had a network made up of those whose lives they’d changed.

Now once more she was thinking of making more changes to her life. Maybe it was just her biological clock catching up with her although it ticked away more slowly than that of ordinary women. Perhaps she was just missing the childhood dream of that white picket fenced house and the kids playing in the yard.

An alert from her laptop pulled her back to the present. Using her powers and without touching a single key she, accessed the one email account her machine was programmed to always page her if it was ever messaged. The carefully set customized filtered email account held just one message but she ignored the body. The sender’s address and initials carried the real information. SOS

With a blink of her eyes, the message erased itself and the account canceled. Her calendar program opened and rearranged itself. A worm program awoke from its sleep at the local telephone exchange. It simply changed a few records, adding a call from where Maggie Carson grew up. Its job completed it went back into slumber.

She called, Jennifer, her assistant in. “I just receive upsetting news that an old friend of the family has suddenly passed away. Please cancel all my appointments for the week and let Linda know she’ll have to take my place for lunch. Yes, I know the meeting was important, but this is not something I can put aside.”

“Oh yes, and please let the garage know I’ll be driving. I need time to think. The GT will do nicely.”

Less than an hour and half later a lipstick red Ford GTX-1 roared out the Big Apple heading south.

Chapter Twelve

Area 61

ETWF: 13 Days

General Robert Armstrong Laramie put on his game face and stepped out of his quarters joined by his aids and other hanger-ons. He was well aware this crisis had the possibility of spectacularly blowing up in his face. What was worse, just as with Lafitte, he would be left holding the bag if it did.

He’d made the only decisions he could. Remembering a quote about one of his personal heroes, Ulysses S. Grant, a Colonel named Theodore Lyman had made. "Grant habitually wears an expression as if he had determined to drive his head through a brick wall, and was about to do it.” Steeling himself General Robert Laramie prepared himself to go though his own walls.

Stepping into the conference room, everyone rose to their feet as he entered. He’d almost reached his chair at the head of the table when he heard a disturbance behind him. Robert Laramie felt his hackles rise as he heard Alan Glenn’s voice.

Forcing himself not to react, he sat and turned to see what trouble Glenn was causing this time.

“Hey Guys! Sorry I’m late. For some reason I never got the memo about the meeting, but that’s okay. I’m here now and we can start.” Captain Vroom wisecracked as the Security policemen held him.

General Laramie barked at the annoying ex-hero. “That’s because you don’t have a need to know. We will talk after this meeting.”

Then he ordered the men holding him, “Get him out of here. Hold him in confinement until I send for him.”

The General couldn’t help feeling enjoyment as they ‘frog-marched’ the annoying Glenn away. Taking back control of his briefing he ordered, “Dr. McClellan I think we’re ready to begin.”

The scientist looking startled awkwardly gathered his materials. “First of all the results from their examinations reveal our subjects are all in excellent physical condition and we can proceed on to the next step of the Chiron program which would be Project Daedalus.”

“It, as you remember, uses a computerized program that analyzes each candidate’s unique bio-chemistry and determines what is needed to optimize their performance. Then the necessary food and vitamin supplements are added to their diets. This is vital because, as mutants, sometimes this differs significantly from what is considered human norms. Additionally, our Meridian candidates had their first day of scholastic classes as well as beginning an intense training program to further develop their abilities.”

“Next, the Z-Ray 13 readiness inspection has also been completed and active operations can begin at any time.” The Doctor paused for questions.

The General responded, “Very good Dr. McClellan. It is good to know we are on schedule. What we all want to know is what is the current status of ’Looking Glass?’ Will we have three weeks or not?”

Nervous pushing up his glasses again the scientist called up a graphic. “That is a very good question General Laramie. As you can see here, the power-demand is continuing to climb precisely as we theorized. I have managed to slow it somewhat by fine-tuning the projector. That should buy us another few days, perhaps even a week. We have also brought in additional generators to help ease the power burden as well as updating the backup power supply.”

Nodding his approval General Laramie grunted. “Good work Doctor. How are plans progressing, to move ‘Looking Glass’ to the testing range topside? The last thing we want is for that maniac to blow up down here.”

The scientist called up another graphic, this one showing details of one of the elevator shafts. “What we propose is moving the entire containment unit to this elevator. Shaft 6 is the closest to the ranges and can be sealed off, offering almost as good security as down in the vaults. Additionally, it has the high voltage cable connections necessary to maintain the wormhole. Another dividend is if we place explosive charges, we can ‘eject’ the unit in case of something unexpected.”

“At worse, if it does explode the majority of the force will be vented upwards. However, I must stress that is only from the collapse of the ’Looking Glass’ projector, which even in a worse case scenario by my calculations will be well under a .5 kiloton. If Blazzar energy levels match my calculations, we could be looking at a 25 to 30 kiloton event. It would be a bad thing if that happened in the shaft, but better than in the vaults.”

“As per your orders, construction has already begun on the web of high voltage cables and conductive liquid reservoirs at range one. If we can make sure Blazzar re-enters our space-time continuum there, we should be able to drain away and dampen his energy reserves. In theory that will weaken him to a level that our Meridian candidates can then incapacitate him. At that point we expect him to regain his human form.”

“Since the unit now weighs several tons, including the monitoring and emergency backup power systems, the safest way of moving it from Shaft 6 to the range would be by a trolley system. We are awaiting your approval for the relocation plan before laying the track for it as well as the modifications to the shaft. That concludes all our plans to date with the exception of the containment of Blazzar after he is recovered.”

“If he changes back to his human form, ordinary sedatives should be effective. However, we are at a loss passed that point. Even if we coordinated with ULTIMATE, and send him to Dark Side Penitentiary, there is no guarantee that even they will be able to hold him.”

“Don’t worry about that Doctor. I’ve been in contact with the Joint Chiefs and we have top men in the field ready to handle the problem,” General Laramie stated.

He chuckled watching the assembled mass of PhD’s wonder just who he was talking about. They were the top men in the field and they knew it. General Laramie got a real thrill from pulling their chains. They just did not get it. If Glenn’s teenage oddballs and McClellan’s mumbo jumbo could cut Blazzar down to size, they would use old fashion means of finishing taking care of the problem.

The snipers recruited were the best with top of the line gear. Once Blazzar was vulnerable, again they would guarantee he wouldn’t be blowing anyone else up. If those Navy idiots in charge of Project Leviathan had simply put a bullet into the back of the head of that damn fool that kept changing into that monster, there would be one less disaster in the world ready to happen.

Sometimes men have to do hard things to fulfill their duty. General Robert Laramie would be damned if he was going to let another monster loose upon the world. Not on his watch!

Chapter Thirteen

ULTIMATE Regional office New York City
September 9, 2008
ETWF: revised 20 Days

Inspector Philippe Imbert sipped his own special coffee blend that he liked strong and dark. Looking away from his department’s morning updates, he gave the so-called croissant his well-meaning assistant, Andrea, had deposited upon his desk a doubtful eye. Sighing at Americans’ lack of good taste regarding the culinary arts, he wondered again at the strange fate that had him working so far from his home in France.

Years before, when the UN sponsored ULTIMATE started staffing its various offices, many had grave doubts the Americans would live up to their part of the treaty, especially given how they’d stalled at almost every possible opportunity. Philippe was selected, all those years ago, by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs to make certain the Americans lived up to their part of the treaty

The other UN members had managed to sneak in an amendment switching personnel between countries. Although the charter had each office having to conform to the host country’s laws and traditions, ULTIMATE had vast power in its narrow niche; policing and managing mutants and others with extraordinary abilities on a worldwide scale.

He’d been at the sword’s point from the very beginning when the only support the Land of the Free would provide was castoff equipment. Rappelling in the dark from American Huey UH-1 helicopters that had numerous patches from bullet holes from their South Asian Affair were events he would never forget.

Now he was old and gray, and soon he would be shuffled out the door with a gold watch stuffed in his pocket. Not a bad thing for he missed La Belle France with all his heart. Still he’d seen many changes in his time here.

No more did their agents venture to arrest powerful criminals with weapons fresh from the design labs, unsure if the abominable things would work as advertised or blow up in their user’s hands. Now powerful dropships bristling with weapons carrying armored troopers, who were often more than a match for their opponents, would swoop in to take their quarry swiftly into custody.

Picking up the poor excuse for a proper croissant by two fingers, he sniffed it suspiciously. The biggest changes were in the people. From the very beginning, there were the mutant haters in their ranks. However, in the years since, he had seen what had been a few prejudiced haters become not the exception but the rule.

Even the very ‘surhomme’ who once volunteered to help protect their fellow man were treated so badly they had to be blackmailed and drafted to be made to serve now. The unfairness of that rankled, for many of those selfless souls had not only been dear friends, but had lost their lives in the line of duty.

With one last evil eyed glance at the pastry, Philippe looked around making sure Andrea was not looking and dropped the gastronomic disaster into his trashcan. Looking over the reports from his surveillance teams, that were not the only characteristic about what ULTIMATE had become, caused his nights to be less than restful.

Philippe’s department was charged with investigating a pair of mutants that had been causing problems for twenty years. The reports were always the same. Two women would appear from nowhere rescuing a suspect from arrest. Often they would avoid all contact with ULTIMATE enforcement agents and just as mysteriously disappear.

On the occasion when they could not just fade away, the two fought like the very Furies themselves. Using military style tactics, they evaded capture and for the most part stayed away from excessive force, but not always. A number of agents well known for their brutality to prisoners had found out to their woe, what you sow is what you reap. At least none of those were killed. Unfortunately, there had still been deaths.

He was reasonably certain that those had been unintended and accidental from causes other than enemy action. When you drop enough men and weapons into the cauldron, ‘Crap will happen’ as the Americans say. Friendly fire, isn’t. Of course, his superiors were unwilling to admit this and all too willing to put all of the blame on the two mysterious women. It was far easier to fault someone else than themselves for incompetence.

Another part of their Modus operandi was that none of those they rescued were guilty of anything serious aside from being wanted by ULTIMATE for breaking some infraction of the regulations regarding mutants. Although they’d seen a newer trend of late, involving desperate first time offenders since the jobless rate among mutants had risen sharply. Regretfully that was because new ULTIMATE regulations made employers leery of hiring them, because of the bureaucratic red tape they were force to leap through.

Others with similar skills and abilities of this pair, had been speedily apprehended. These were always the most dangerous and the hardest to bring to justice. However to balance that, there were always records of those with military backgrounds and the necessary knowledge. Granted, there were those who decided to simply disappear, and would probably never be found. That was not the case for these two.

If his deductions were correct these two amazons had actually been at large for nearly twenty-five years, but had only been working together for the last twenty. However, all he had were just that, guesses. No one in ULTIMATE’s extensive worldwide database matched the abilities and skill sets these two exhibited.

Suspect One was codenamed the Tech-Witch. Standing at about 6’ and slim, she was exceptionally fast and strong enough to easily combat even armored suited troopers hand to hand. Vehicles or any machine with electronics had even more of a problem because of her ability to mentally interface and override any electronic device. More bewildering was a telekinesis like power that instantly let her create other devices at need. Her technical expertise was considerable and did much to negate the high tech advantage ULTIMATE field agents depended upon.

His researchers had run down every possible mutant working in the technical fields. Surely, such a one would have loads of patents and designs all had reasoned. They had found absolutely nothing. Baffled, they’d checked out every record they could find of the initial testing all mutants were required to go though upon exhibiting their powers, but had also found nothing that matched this Tech-Witch’s technical magic.

Suspect Two was truly the dangerous one of the pair. After an assault company from India, consisting of three dropships and their thirty Enforcer Power armor suits, had trapped her where she could not avoid action, they had named her. The defeated troopers called her Kali.

However, Philippe thought a certain Greek goddess was more appropriate. She was the goddess of wisdom, for above all else this woman was extremely intelligent as well as terrifying in battle. Therefore, privately he had named her Lady Athena.

Shorter than her companion at approximately 5’ 8,” she had a curvy athletic build. Normally Suspect Two wore a flexible bodysuit with a motorcycle style full-face helmet.

Like her friend the Tech-witch, she had revealed nothing about her racial background. What they did know was she was one of the most powerful mutants on the planet. Blindingly fast, strong enough to rip steel apart with her hands, very resistant to harm, and exceedingly well trained. It was a certainty she had been well schooled somewhere in the covert and military arts, but no records anywhere matched her description.

What stood out about her was, taking that battle with the Indian assault company as an example; no one had been seriously injured. When she had had stopped being defensive and turned to the attack each and every blow had been made with devastating precision and power.

All he had were the interviews, since as normal for this pair, the Tech-Witch had wiped all the electronic records. It had been his very first clue that perhaps Lady Athena was deliberately not using her full range of powers. Not that she needed to given her great strength. Even more telling was the method she used to take out the supporting dropships.

As graceful as any Olympic gymnast she had leaped up and damaged the first’s primary flight control system, before moving on the next. In fact, one of the eyewitnesses had described it just like watching a floor exercise - if a gymnast could leap 60’ from a standing start. She had known precisely where to strike to disable the war machines.

However that first clue made him think that perhaps everything they had done were designed to mislead including the abilities they had demonstrated. With that in mind, he had looked over the database again, this time bearing in mind that perhaps deception had been their intentions from the very beginning. The long list that line of thought had created had been narrowed down over the years to just a dozen of likely suspects even if its basis was no more than pure conjecture.

His gut instincts, as Andrea would say, pointed him at a most unlikely pair, Alan Glenn and Margaret Carson. The deception was the key Philippe told his agents. Alan Glenn was a male speedster who had lost his powers and who now might or might not be counted as a mutant at all.

However, he was extremely well trained by the American military in many different areas including those their mysterious Lady Athena exhibited. Yes, even when he had his special abilities they did not include the astounding strength and toughness Suspect Two exhibited, but he had also been exposed to this Z-Ray 9. The same that gave his brother the ability to produce an atomic blast albeit only once. Who knew for certain what he could do?

As for his being male, well, his companion is a fashion model skilled in makeup, and let's not forget her uniform could simply be a type of padded suit meant to give the appearance of femininity. Additionally his business required him to travel often to the very areas their troublesome duo operated.

Then there was Margaret Carson who had absolutely no connections to the high tech fields since she was a model. However, her records from her school revealed she had an affinity for machines, especially electrical ones. Those records also stated she was at best a Beta class mutant with her physical talents just above human maximums.

Impressive yes, but still not anywhere close to the Gamma rating the Tech-Witch had shown them, which far surpassed anything even the best humans could achieve. It’s possible that perhaps she was an Epsilon that transcended normalcy to being a true superhuman. Yes, the Academy always was a stickler for obeying what the law required of them, but if she was indeed Suspect One then she could have adjusted the very machines testing her or even the records after they were recorded. Then too, even the talented teachers there might not have recognized just what they had, seeing how primitive electronics were in the early 1970‘s.

With only circumstantial evidence, Philippe had used ULTIMATE’s power to ask Alan Glenn to submit to a physical by one of their doctors while another team searched his home and office. He had even called in a favor and had a telepath try to read the mind of the ex-teenage hero. They had all found nothing and the telepath had found the man’s mind impenetrable.

He had decided calling Margaret Carson in would have been an exercise in futility, given his conjecture that she could easily command the machines they depended on to examine her to give any result she desired. He did have her townhouse searched as well as having her mind scanned but had come up again with nothing.

He could not even prove a decisive link between the two. They had met in 1989 during the Senate investigation of Project Meridian and The Rocketeer’s demise, he as a witness, and she as a spokesperson for mutant rights lobbying the committee. They might have gone to dinner together, but had not continued any sort of relationship besides bumping into each other occasionally at social events. He had nothing that could be called conclusive.

The only bright part of the entire matter was, that in the course of looking for these two amazons, they had found several others who had been guilty of other crimes. Ironically, a few of those had also been spirited away by the Amazonian couple.

Philippe had several agents working the other side of coin looking for their purloined suspects new whereabouts, but alas nothing. However now they had new developments. Coming out of nowhere the American Air Force picks up Mr. Alan Glenn for questioning. Not more than 24 hours later Margaret Carson receives a call from her hometown notifying her of an old friend of the family having passed away. She cancels all her appointments and leaves New York City so quickly the agents following her were still trying to catch up.

He considered it very interesting that Dr. Albert McClellan was seen talking to Mr. Alan Glenn right before he was taken away, the very man who was the chief scientist for Project Meridian. A cross-referenced search revealed several troubled young mutants were taking in part in something they called Project Chiron, supposedly a pilot program for a school for mutants. Strange that no records of such project existed outside of the handout the public affairs officer gave his agents. Not to mention that each child matched exactly the requirements and profiles needed for Project Meridian.

No, it was not a coincidence at all. He would wager that for some reason the Americans were about to illegally resume their mutant augmentation experiments. For some reason it also seemed they needed Alan Glenn.

Philippe rubbed his temples in pain. If Alan Glenn was indeed, somehow Lady Athena then he or she might be their best chance to disrupt whatever the American military’s plans were. However, considering just how much mayhem those two could cause he was sure the results would be astounding.

That brought up his other apprehensions about what ULTIMATE had become. France remembered only too well its occupation by Germany in WWII and the harm done to her peoples. It had taken much to get the French people to agree to the Mutant Registration Act. To many, it meant just a short road to back to the tattoos and concentration camps.

Of the twenty years these two troublesome women had been bedeviling agents, the last ten had seen the beginning of a covert network of mutants. Using the classic cell structure, they were well organized. This of course alarmed his superiors and was why he’d been assigned to the case for so long.

What alarmed him was that their goals were not to create terror or advocate for overthrowing their government. They simply wanted to be left alone and their organization was designed to spirit away those whose only criminal act was to be born a mutant.

That was far too much like the French Underground and their heroic actions in denying the Nazis victims. If this was true, that put him, Philippe Imbert, in the role of the hated Gestapo! Not a very pleasant thought at all for a patriotic Frenchman!

Wrinkling his nose at the smell from Andrea’s well-intentioned gift, he made up his mind. He had been behind a desk for far too long. If this was to be his last tilt at the windmills then let it be in the field. Opening his desk drawer, from it he removed the latest development in sidearms for ULTIMATE agents with an acronym so long most agents just called it a Gat, urban slang for a gun. Slipping the weighty energy weapon into its holster, he doubled checked his own personal backup firearm, a more sensible MR-93 with a 3” barrel. He was still ribbed by others at the firing range for his choice of the Manurhin, but he found that a little custom work fixed its small flaws. Besides, it was made in France!

Philippe dropped by his chosen successor’s office and gave him the keys to the office so to speak. Then he found Andrea with her arms full of files and juggling her PDA.

Her eyes opened wide as she took in his kit bag in hand and the look on her boss’s face. “We’re going somewhere?”

“Dump the files, and get your ready kit. Then signal the agents following Margaret Carson to break off and meet us in Charlotte, North Carolina. We will catch up to our subject of interest there,” he directed.

“But what she doesn’t go there? I mean according to our satellite surveillance she is still in Maryland,” she asked, flustered.

He gave his young dark haired assistant a searching look. She had been hand picked by him, and she had much potential; intelligent and dedicated. Only time would tell if she could avoid the corruption that had taken hold of so many others in this bureaucracy.

Philippe watched her eyebrows rise as he grinned broadly at her. “She will be there. Of this, I am certain. Trust me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Area 61

ETWF: 20 Days

Alan flexed his shoulder after the two hulking Air Force cops pushed him inside the cell. Its real name was something along the lines of Interactive Containment and Confinement Unit. A jail cell by any other name was still a jail. The inside of the white hexagonal cell was like being inside a soccer ball. The interlocking hex grid would react to various stimuli like heat or pressure becoming thicker or stronger. It was just Doc’s take on a dungeon for mutants.

Just as he’d remembered, it was bare of furnishings with nothing to sit or lie on but the padded floor. Seating himself in the center of the cell, he settled down to meditate. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It’d been 4 days since he’d been able to ‘let his hair down’ and with the emotional stress of being here; it was beginning to take its toll.

Alan had spent longer times ‘hanging with the guys’ as he privately called it, when he’d begun building his business working in the shop or occasionally the pits at the track. When he’d embarked on his mission that’d been a sacrifice he’d chosen to make. However returning to Area 61 had unearthed many old memories. Not all were bad, many were happy but those others were painful beyond belief. It had reunited him with Ollie and that was something that no matter what shook down from all this in the end, he wasn’t going to regret.

Then there were the kids, different from his friends and yet the same in many ways. It pained him that Lizzie was even younger than Joyce had been. It was ironic that she was also the strongest just like Joyce. Ollie had compared him to Josh, but it was William that reminded Alan most of himself.

They shared the same malady, but William had already found a way of using his powers to ease that pain of the heart. If Ollie was right the power to change his appearance wasn’t an ability the youngster had naturally, but one his inner desperation to become her true self had developed.

It was definitely a case of the good and bad thing. Very good, that young William had found a way past that little birth defect. It was also very bad that it happened here with a piece of work like Courtney Hathaway around ready and willing to scramble his brains. That was why he’d just had to make sure these kids were protected from her.

In the background, he heard a warning klaxon go off. “Code Joshua! I say again Code Joshua!”

Alan sighed, remembering other days of the damn thing squawking other codes from days long past, Code Vroom!, Code Blazzar!, and others.

Unsurprised, a short time later he heard the cell next to his opening and his newest neighbor being forced within. Opening his eyes, he saw Josh beating on the hex bars in frustration. After a while, the young man threw himself to the floor in disgust.

“So what was it this time Josh?” Alan asked.

From next door a familiar sarcastic voice answered, “For all of your talk of just going along with the program it didn’t take you long to end up here. If you’ve got to know, I decided I had something better to do than listen to that lame crap Hathaway was putting out!”

Alan smiled shaking his head. “Wow this might be some kind of record. Not here two days and already back in ‘detention’,” he said, making quotation marks in the air.

The teenager gave him an angry look but said nothing.

“Back in my Rocketeer days, I spent so much time in here one of the Air Force cops put up a sign in here with my name on it. Let me give you some advice.”

“Rule number Uno. The Air Force may guard the doors and pay the bills. There might even be some head honcho wearing a blue suit with his name on a door giving the orders but there is only one man really in charge down here. That is Doc Mac. He designed all of this from the stuff top side to the vaults underneath. I have it on good authority that he even did the Nuke that’s under our feet, just to make sure no one gets out of his mad scientist laboratory out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Josh looked up his eyes wide mouthing “Bomb?”

Smiling grimly Alan nodded. “He is the genius everyone says he is and if anything they don’t know the half of it. One of the things you have to understand about Doc Mac is everything, and I do mean everything, is a test with him. You can bet on it that every time you make a break for it, Doc is charting what tactics you chose and how long it took to catch you.”

Alan waved his hand at the geometric prison about them. “Have you ever played any of those brain teasers? You know, the puzzles that test your ingenuity? That is all these really are. I escaped from detention three times. If you can figure out the key you can get out.”

Josh sat up giving Alan his full attention now. “So how did you do it? It’s like being inside a giant Nerf ball. You can’t tear it or it gets thicker and just trying to bend it makes it harden.”

Shaking his head no, Alan explained, “What worked for me thirty years ago won’t do the job for you. Josh you have to learn more about yourself and I’m not talking only about your invisibility power. In fact I’ll wager I know more about how your power functions than you do, and that is without looking at any records of Doc’s examinations.”

“Your power doesn’t affect cameras or recording equipment which means you’re not really affecting ‘light’ at all. It’s called obscuring. That means you’re affecting the brains of the people around you, preventing them from either focusing on you or perhaps even processing visual information about you. That’s important because that means you could potentially, instead of making them not see something that is there, make them see something that isn’t, like an illusion.”

Alan was glad to see Josh didn’t blurt out anything that Ollie had said the night before. Looking at the young man sitting across from him, he could see the rebellion of being forced to stay here against his will in his face. He could also see the need to prove himself not to others but to himself.

Resisting shaking his head, Alan realized that was what Ollie had been talking about when he mentioned how much he was like Josh. Much of Alan’s desire to prove himself was because of his malady which caused him to doubt and second-guess himself so badly.

Josh’s was that of a teenager in the process of becoming a young man who was perhaps more independent than most of his generation. He wasn’t obsessed with being part of the in crowd. That was certainly more like his brother Gus.

“Josh I know you don’t want to be here. Hell, neither do I! However, they have threatened to shut down my shop. I have responsibilities to the business I run. Not only to my customers, but also to my employees that depend on me for their livelihoods. I have to consider the consequences of my actions. My brother Gus understood that. It took me longer to figure it out.”

“He was a good brother and would’ve been an even greater man if he’d gotten the chance. The reason he didn’t was because some self-righteous assholes used him up for their own reasons. They turned him into a monster.”

“The reason I’m in here is because I was trying to find out what is really going on here. Am I going to go along with them? Yes, I have no real choice, but also to buy time for someone, anyone, who can, to do something about this. They have threatened to put you guys under the gun if I don’t help you make progress improving and learning about your powers.”

Alan looked up as he heard the cops coming for him. “If you’re always trying to make a break for it then you’re not learning. That brings you and everyone else closer to what I‘m trying to prevent.”

Standing up he asked one final question, “Is that what you want Josh?”

The sullen youth shook his head. “So I should just sit here and do nothing?”

The door of Alan’s cell slid open. “Nope, never said that. If you’re like me, you’re going to end up here no matter how hard you try. Someone has to keep these zoomie cops on their toes. Wouldn’t want’em getting fat from all the coffee and donuts!”

Looking up as he walked out Alan wasn’t surprised to see Dr. Hathaway. She had a disapproving scowl upon her face. Along with the two beefy zoomie cops, she led the way to his appointment with the General.

“What happened to you? Where is the hero that helped saved the world? Why are you fighting us so hard, when you can make a real difference again?” she demanded.

Alan gave her a disbelieving look. Just what kind of BS was she trying to shove down his throat? But, hey, that was okay. He knew how to play the game.

He answered her, “Oh, do you mean the whole 'You can’t put a speed limit on Justice?'”

She nodded back excitedly. “Yes! I have the entire collection of your comics!”

He sighed. “We’ve talked about this before. Since you’re a shrink, I would think you would understand what the word propaganda means. Those things were barely based on reality at all. That tag line was created by some guy in the public affairs office. You won’t believe what they had to bribe me with to say that in public,” he said, thinking back about all the ice cream he and the gang had gone though because of it.

Then he stopped looking her in the eye. “What happened was I grew up after the boys in blue mutated my brother into a monster and got all my friends killed. Not to mention nearly doing the same to yours truly and putting me into a coma! To the rest of world perhaps we were heroes but to the Air Force, we were just another weapon. Use it, clean it and put it away for next time.”

The two zoomie cops grabbed his arms and frog marched him away.

Ignoring them Alan continued, “Now if you would excuse me I’ve an important appointment to keep.”

He didn’t look back as they left the frustrated woman behind them. All too soon, he had other concerns as he was pushed inside ‘Old Lying to Me’ Laramie’s office. It was much like other military officer’s with a brag or ‘I love me’ wall covered in framed awards and pictures with various dignitaries. The entire thing was suppose to awe the poor supplicants who entered within. Of course, all of the chairs were positioned well away from the desk making you stand while the General sat.

Alan ignored it all and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, something he knew for sure would annoy the straight-laced military man. He had to keep from laughing at the bulldog like cigar chomping stereotype the General was presenting. Watching his old nemesis shuffle papers Alan wondered how long he was going to be kept waiting.

Finally, the General looked up and growled at him. “Just what are you trying to pull here Glenn? Do you think I’m buffing? If you don’t get with the program here I will shut down your little two bit grease-pit shop so fast your head will spin!” The General slammed his hand down for emphasis.

Alan crossed his arms. “Well it depends just which program you’re talking about. If you’re talking about my crashing your meeting, then I’ll say I want and need more information to do my job. There is a reason why you’ve resurrected this insanity. Knowing why will help me do what you’re blackmailing me to do. Hopefully without getting myself or anyone else killed.”

‘Old Lying to Me’ Laramie barked back, “You don’t have a need to know! Just do your job of teaching these subjects how to use their powers and you’ll keep them from going under the gun as you put it!”

“Oh so it is my conversation with Josh this morning that has your feathers ruffled.” Alan nodded his understanding.

Glaring at him from across his desk the General shot back, “Don’t you have any idea of operational security? They don’t have a need to know. We will tell them when it is necessary to do so!”

“That might work for the younger kids but not for Josh. He’ll spit in your eye because he’ll know you betrayed him. Hell, that’s what you’re doing to all of them. They’re not subjects, they're children. Lizzie is only six years old for Gawd’s sake. You, we, are acting as their guardians and by throwing them to the lions, we are betraying their trust.

“Oh they’re going along with this for a while just like Gus and our gang did, but Josh doesn’t have family ties to the younger ones like Gus did. He is just a year from graduating and in his own eyes a man. He sees all of this for what it is, a government conspiracy using kids who are different as pawns.”

“He’ll keep trying to run away 'till despite what you told me you’ll drop him because you won’t be able to trust him. I don’t have a problem with that, but then you’ll either replace him with someone who is starting from zero or try to do without him. That will push your precious timetable up and all of them closer to that big zap gun down the hallway.

Alan took a deep breath. “You want me to help. I did. I told him the truth.”

The man wearing the silver stars sat back in his expensive chair. “Talking about the truth are we? Then tell me how you’re interfering with our surveillance. No more bullshit about ghosts!”

“If you don’t want to hear about the ghosts and the little green men then you’re not ready for the truth. Considering what you have locked up down here, I’m surprised you’re so closed-minded. I guess it is true about bureaucrats and their lack of imagination,” Alan said, rocking back on his heels.

Leaning forward the General demanded, “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but it stops! Understand me?”

Holding up his hands in surrender the ex-hero said, “No problem. I’ll just find my Ouija board and pass the word to Kasper and the guys to lay off.”

‘Lying to Me’ Laramie gave him an evil grin that Alan knew he wasn’t going to like was coming.

“Speaking of ghosts from the past I have an old friend of yours that’s been dying to meet you.” He hit the intercom. “Send him in.”

As soon as the door opened, Alan knew trouble had just walked in. Unlike the two zoomie cops that had dwarfed him, the man being escorted in towered over his zoomies. He had to be near 7 feet tall and was over-muscled in the way professional wrestlers and pro football players were. The poor cops looked like children next to him. Dressed in the bright orange of prison coveralls his dark skin seemed even blacker. It was impossible not to recognize the shaved head and the mouth full of perfect white teeth when he smiled. Maxi-Badd.

That unfriendly smile showed the old criminal recognized him too. The Rocketeers had stopped his robbery and murder spree that left over forty dead and millions in damage back in the 70‘s. The bad guy from Chicago’s Southside had been sentence to life with no chance of parole mostly because no one could figure out how to kill him. Immune to poisons, diseases, as well as bullet proof there wasn’t any easy way of killing him. Old Sparky, just tickled and even drowning was only temporary. His healing ability made him one tough SOB.

Maxi-Badd had been one of the first inmates shipped to Dark Side Penitentiary, and now these fools had brought him back.

He might be over sixty and had spent 25 years of hard time in micro-gravity, but all that had not dulled the feral glint in his eyes. Nor had it blunted his intelligence. Alan saw him give a slight nod acknowledging his own thoughts about fools.

A quick glance at his escorts’ hands showed the remotes in both of their hands, which explained why there weren’t any manacles or cuffs, not that those would do a lot of good. Often times a supra-human’s power could be negated, but it had to suppress the way a specific power worked. The all-purpose power suppressor cuffs of the comic books were nothing but fantasy, but implanted explosives worked on everyone.

Control your actions, maybe not, but the threat of setting off a bomb inside your head unless you behaved worked nearly as well. Of course cortex bomb implants were disputed by the ACLU as cruel and unusual punishment and were by law only suppose to be used on the most dangerous criminals.

Tell that to Doc, Alan thought, thinking about his own little gift he’d gotten during his own recent examination. Part of him wanted to jump down Laramie’s throat for being a complete idiot, but he didn’t. He now had an idea what this meeting was really about. They were suspicious that he still had some kind of powers because they’d taken in the odd happenings around him and gotten exactly the wrong answer.

The zoomie cops stood ready in case Alan resisted but he’d expected it as the General nodded.

Maxi-Badd reached out to touch him. There was that split second that the old criminal expected him to try something, but it confused him when his old enemy did nothing.

Alan saw the flash of light as the clone of himself that Maxi-Badd created appeared. It really didn’t look much like Mama Glenn's little boy. As bad, as the mutant from the Southside was, it was his power to make temporary clones of others that really made him a problem. The good news was they didn’t have the same memories of the involuntary donor nor did they look identically like them. They all looked like Maxi-Badd’s versions of themselves, but they did have all the powers and abilities of the original. More to the point, they all had an instinctive knowledge of how to use those powers.

In short, he could make his own super team by cloning his opponents. Fortunately the more he cloned the shorter lived they all were. Second, they all shared Maxi’s vulnerability to telepathy and other mental talents.

Alan wondered just where Hathaway was, knowing she just had to be nearby. This actually didn’t seem much like Doc’s style so he was guessing either she or the General had come up with this particular test.

“So Max, I see you kept yourself in shape. Spent a lot of time down in the weight room?” Alan jibed at the big convict.

“Want to try the He-3 mines there, squirt?” His voice reverberated from the big man’s chest more like something from a machine than anything alive.

Then he saw her and imagined he could see her eyes light up with the use of her power, reading his clone for any signs of being special. It took an act of will power not to grin as she shook her head no at the General.

Speaking of which, he looked unhappy at the news. Well, simple minds did like simple solutions. He didn’t expect those two to figure it out, but Doc? As always, he was a force unto himself. Something for Alan to bear in mind, if Doc hadn’t already figured it all out.

The General got over his disappointment. “Saul Simpson voluntarily enrolled in a program to help encourage young mutants to enroll in the mutant registration program as required by law. He is also here to show that crime does not pay. In exchange, at the end of the program he will be eligible for a parole hearing overturning his sentence which he wouldn’t get without being in that program.”

“Since he’s here he will be aiding in the identification of our young subjects powers as well as offering someone for them to spar against as a team. I expect for you to put aside whatever grudges from the past that you have and work together.” Lying-to-Me Laramie laid it on thick saying nothing about Max putting aside his problems.

So, here is someone to put me in my place if I don’t behave as if blackmailing me with the closing of my business wasn’t enough. Should’ve known the General would fall back to physical coercion.

“You’re dismissed Glenn. You have a class to teach. Mr. Simpson will be placed on the lesson plan for tomorrow,” the General ordered.

Alan turned to leave but stopped as Maxi-Badd cleared his throat. “Be seeing you squirt,” the man said, glaring down.

Grinning at the big criminal and the clone, he’d created, Alan said, “Yeah I’ll be seeing you around.” Then whistling Queen’s ‘Another One Bites the Dust,’ he left.

Chapter Fifteen

Area 61
September 9, 2008
ETWF: 20 Days

Dr. Courtney Hathaway screwed up her face concentrating upon the temporary clone Saul Simpson had created of Alan Glenn as she mind read him again. Nothing!

Of course, there was the fear once he realized, he was the clone and was soon going to de-materialize into nothingness. Like all living creatures, this clone of Saul Simpson and Alan Glenn didn’t want to die. That was of no importance to her. Being a temporary construction of energy, you could argue, he never had been alive.

What was important to her was this clone had Simpson’s vulnerability to mental coercion and had all of Alan Glenn’s supra-human powers. Deep reading the clone all the way down to the instinctive level where he knew how to use those powers, she’d found nothing.

Nothing, but more questions regarding this man who was becoming more frustrating to her every day that passed. The clone had no mental defenses, which meant Glenn’s mind was only one of those she simply couldn’t read and not because of some inherent power. Of course, that didn’t explain how he’d been blacking out surveillance or how he’d gotten into the secure areas.

“Sorry Sir,” she reported to General Laramie. “I can’t find any signs of supra-human abilities. If Alan Glenn still had powers, Saul Simpson would have duplicated them in the energy clone he created.”

The General turned to the prisoner who was looking at his clone sadly. “Is that true? If Glenn still had powers you would know?”

The huge prisoner looked up. “Yeah. Any power stuff, he would know,” he said, nodding at his clone. “Magic and mystic Ju-Ju crap won’t but it’s a copy you know? Stuff you pickup or learn just from being alive doesn’t go over. They always have my memories and the special stuff of who I touch.”

Courtney added, “According to records, when he duplicated The Rocketeers, the clones had only their powers at pre-Z-Ray levels. That was how they were able to defeat him.”

The old criminal nodded his head. “Yeah. Like I said, stuff that happens to ya doesn’t go over. Just what you‘re born with or what that mutant thing does to ya’.”

General Laramie scowled at the prisoner, “When I want to know something from you, I’ll tell you.”

Then ignoring the flash of anger on Saul Simpson’s face, he gave out the rest of his decrees, “Keep on close eye on Glenn. He’s causing these disturbances somehow even if he doesn’t have powers. Doctor Hathaway pay close attention to Joshua Dean. If he doesn’t get with the program, I need to know. So far we are on schedule so let’s keep it that way.”

Turning to Simpson he said, “Do as you’re ordered and you’ll be released. If Glenn gets out of hand, you’ll get a chance at him. Am I clear?”

Still disgruntled at his rude treatment, the big con nodded. “Yeah. I understand ya’”

Courtney felt Alan’s clone begin to panic, as its time grew short. What surprised her was Saul Simpson’s compassion for his creation’s imminent passing. In his mind, each time one of those he’d made dematerialized into nothing, they’d died. Worse, they had his memories and believed themselves to be alive. Part of his cold-bloodedness came about because he regarded real people with the same yardstick.

Suddenly the clone flashed into a shower of lights and was no more. Saul Simpson hung his head sorrowfully and let himself be led out. For years, he’d refused to make any more clones, but for the opportunity for freedom, he had once more used his power.

Once more since Project Meridian’s rebirth and her meeting Alan Glenn, she had thoughts about the rightness of this enterprise. The sorrow from the big man had been unmistakable, as he’d been forced to do, what in his own eyes was murder. Even she couldn’t deny the last thought of that clone that had cried out, “I don’t want to die!” as it’s body lost shape and faded away.

Giving herself a mental shake, she pushed away her doubts. Power was the only thing that matters and by making herself shine, she would gain more of what she desired. So what if others were being stepped on. The only way to avoid that was to have the power to be the one doing the stepping she assured her conscience.

Confidently she left General Laramie’s office to carry out her duties despite the small but growing kernel of uncertainty.

Chapter Sixteen

Area 61

ETWF: 20 Days

Amanda found herself wondering if that older boy Josh had the right idea after all. He did his vanishing act almost as soon as they’d been seated. All morning was spent learning how to use the computers and the self-paced education programs. At first, she thought it was really lame, but this computer was way smart even asking her questions and seemingly chatting with her. Despite that, she found herself growing bored. It was so different from what she was used to.

Finally, lunch came around, but that was still worse considering the disgusting stuff spooned onto her plate. It tasted as bland as it looked and was about as appetizing as dirt. Looking at everyone else, they all had the same thought she had.

She and Malak had gotten to know each other a little and they’d both been relived to have found someone down here to talk to. Soon they were both chatting away while watching Lizzie who decided playing with the goop was a better idea than eating it.

Amanda did see Bill giving them an glance from time to time that almost made her think he was some kind of freak or something. However he’d such a sad look on his face she couldn’t snap at him. It’d be too much like kicking a puppy. Since she’d spent her own time being thought of as a freak, Amanda was a lot more tolerant now than she used to be. Malik did try to strike up a conversation with him but it didn’t go anywhere.

She did find herself looking at Malak’s brother because although he did look a little strange with his so pale skin and broad lips and nose, he was seriously hot. Although a year younger than her, he looked liked a body builder. The more she thought about it; maybe more exotic than strange looking.

Then their break was over and they were directed to the gym. Opening the locker with her name on it Amanda found a couple of different exercise suits plus this weird looking white one piece looking thing. If she’d any choice she wouldn’t be caught dead in it, ugh!

Malak called to her, “Here is a note. Dress in something loose and comfortable.”

“'Kay,” she replied. “Did you see this thing?” she asked her new friend, holding out the ugly oversized white footie thing.

The red haired girl struck out her tongue making gagging sounds. “No way girlfriend! That is definitely something that is getting lost in the laundry!”

Noticing they hadn’t heard anything from Lizzie, Amanda called to her, “Lizzie, you okay?”

The six year old had a tutu mostly on. Both she and Malak giggled. Well the note did say wear what you were comfortable with!

She helped the little girl finish getting dressed while Malak looked in her own locker. There was some dance stuff in there too. Both she and Malak had danced in the past but hadn’t kept with it. They decided the sweat suits would work for now given it was always chilly down here.

Happily, Ballerina Lizzie bounced into the gym ahead of them. The boys were already there, including Josh. They were in shorts and t-shirts except for Bill who was in sweats like she and Malak were.

That gave Amanda the chance to look over the two older boys. Unlike Malik, the jock, Josh was slimmer but no less athletic. He was more like a runner. His sandy brown hair and rainbow eyes made her wonder if he had a girlfriend back home.

Mr. Glenn spoiled her examination but she’d seen Josh looking at her too in a way that caused her to blush. Hiding her red face behind her long hair, she gently punched Malak who was giggling at her display.

Their teacher pointed to a side room and stood aside as all six of them trooped in. It was one of those Dojo martial arts things she’d seen in movies. Removing his shoes, Mr. Glenn gave the dojo a respectful bow, as did Malak and her brother. The rest of them awkwardly imitated them.

The twins seated themselves cross-legged when their teacher gestured to them. Again, Amanda wondered what was up. This place was so different from any school she’d ever been in and she didn’t know what to expect.

Mr. Glenn was also wearing a sweat suit and had his hands clasped behind his back. “I know some of you have had some previous martial arts training but despite where we are I’m not here to teach you that. Yes, you‘ll pickup some of the basics but that is not the primary purpose.”

“You’ve all changed and gained abilities in the past few months. For some of you that may have been bad and for others it’s been a good thing. I’m here, not only to help show you how to the get the most from what you can do, but also to help you come to peace with what you are now.”

“I’ve chosen the dojo setting for a reason. You’ll still spend more time than you’ll ever want in testing labs, but what happens in here stays here. Whatever anger and ego you have stays out there at the door. In here we seek to explore and improve ourselves.”

“Now with that said, because we will be using the rules of the dojo and its traditions, tomorrow I’ll expect you in your uniforms. I expect those who know how to wear it to help those who don’t.”

His eyes fell on Lizzie and her tutu. Amanda had to bite back another giggle at his expression.

“Normally you’d be expected to warm up and stretch out before class begins but since most of you are beginners; we’ll show you how to do it right. However because you all have your own strengths and weaknesses we’re going to have to be adaptable,” he said, smiling.

“For example, could you please come and stand by me Bill?” Mr. Glenn asked the younger boy.

He showed disbelief and reluctance, but he did as he was asked. Amanda knew Bill was about fourteen and that he did some kind of stretching like stuff. He had blond hair and was okay looking, but still he was a kid two years younger than her.

Mr. Glenn asked him, “I’m not trying to embarrass you. Just making a point, okay?”

At the boy’s nod the teacher directed, “First touch your toes Bill.”

As Bill reached down, Mr. Glenn stopped him. “Not that way Bill. While standing.”

The boy sighed and stood straight.

Amanda felt her mouth fall open as his arms just grew longer till they touched the floor!

“As you can see, normal warm up stretches won’t do him any good at all so we’re going to have to find out what works best for him. This is just one example of how you, all of you, are going to have to help each other find the best way to strengthen yourselves.”

“Here is another example. Bill you can sit down. Malik come stand here please?” their teacher asked.

Amanda watched the well muscle youth stand next to Mr. Glenn and saw he was several inches taller.

“Malik I understand you used to lift weights, but stopped. Can you tell us why?” the older man questioned.

A little self-conscious of being the center of attention, the muscular boy answered, “Yeah, I used to lift, but when I mutated it wasn’t a challenge anymore. I could easily lift my entire weight set and not feel it.”

“Okay. Now I know you’ve had some training. I want you to spar with me,” Mr. Glenn said, taking a step back.

Amanda felt herself take a deep breath. Didn’t they say he’d lost his powers? What if he got hurt?

Malik must have thought of the same thing, because he protested, “But Sensei you lost your powers didn’t you?”

Mr. Glenn inclined his head in acknowledgment, but settled into a stance. “To the second fall. Begin!”

Unsure of himself, Malik got ready as they bowed to each other. It did him no good at all, as the older man smoothly glided up, spinning around the bigger youth.

Suddenly Malik was on the mat! Surprised for only a moment, he vaulted lightly to his feet. He threw a series of punches and kicks, but Mr. Glenn was always just out of reach. Just like before, their teacher passed by him, not even touching it seemed, and their classmate was falling to the mat.

Standing, they both bowed to each other again, and Mr. Glenn gestured him to have a seat.

“Malik is stronger and perhaps even faster than I am, but by denying him the chance to use that strength he was defeated. What I used was Aikido. Just so you know, I’m certified to teach in several different martial arts forms.

“I was first taught when I was here some thirty years ago. I kept it up because I enjoy the meditative aspects, and for self-protection in case any old enemies from my Rocketeer days decide that bygones aren’t bygones after all.”

“What did this match demonstrate?” he asked.

Malik answered, “That superior power is nothing without skill.”

Mr. Glenn smiled. “In part yes, but having the greater strength means nothing if you can‘t apply it to the problem. Lizzie is stronger than you by at least as much as you are stronger than I am. The way her power works is different than yours but it still increases her strength by tons.”

“Think about this. I’m not trying to rub it in, but when your powers came, you had opportunities taken from you such as playing sports and other activities you enjoyed. Now we’ve already said Lizzie is also stronger, so what has she lost?

“She’s a girl. It’s not the same….” Malik began but trailed off seeing the hard looks his sister and Amanda was giving him.

Suddenly Lizzie jumped up and ran to the teacher. He knelt down, catching her.

“It’s okay sweetheart. Why don’t you tell them what is different now that you’re so strong?” Mr. Glenn urged the six year old.

Sniffing Lizzie almost cried, “They won’t let me be a ballerina or play with the other girls anymore. No one wants to pick me up or hug me too.”

The older man smiled at her. “I seem to remember that dance is taught here, and for being hugged…” He hugged her, putting her back on her feet.

Josh spoke up. “Fear.”

Mr. Glenn pointed to him urging him to continue.

The older teenager went ahead. “They were afraid Malak would hurt the other players. It’s the same for Lizzie. Since she’s so much stronger they were afraid for the other kids.”

“Very Good Josh! Not because of anything they did but because they could. They conveniently forgot that in Malik’s case that most football players could do much the same to anyone else, but yes fear.”

“Now Malik said the reason I defeated him was because of skill even though I’m not ‘supra-human’ anymore,” he said, making ditto marks with his fingers.

“No one has been able to define exact where that line is between human and more-than-human. In truth, I’m on the border of the two, but that doesn’t change what would happen if he’d been able to strike me. Again, Josh’s answer is the name of the problem. Fear.”

“Was I afraid of what would happen if he did tag me? Yes! It would be like getting hit by a car. But I had knowledge in the form of skill that let me overcome that fear.”

“You’ll run into people who are going to be afraid of you. The more knowledge you have of yourself the better able you’ll be to assure them you’re not a threat. Now let’s have everyone take a turn showing all of us your power.”

Amanda found herself enjoying this unusual class. Glancing around she saw Josh was still here and hadn’t gone invisible again. Maybe this wasn’t all a waste, she thought, trying not to blush again.

Chapter Seventeen

Charlotte, NC

ETWF: 20 Days

Inspector Philippe Imbert watched Margaret Carson’s expensive sports car as it was towed into Rocket’s Speed Shop. It was brilliant. Just outside of Charlotte the red Ford started belching smoke from its engine. Of course, Alan Glenn’s automotive facility would be her first choice given its reputation for working with high performance machines.

Andrea Sloan stared at him. She’d managed to get them and the team trailing Margaret Carson to Charlotte as well as getting their office here to provide vehicles on very short notice. He admitted to himself, that he’d pushed her, but it was necessary for her to become familiar with her limitations.

“How did you know sir?” she asked, mystified.

Not taking his eyes from the marvelous play being presented for them, he answered his assistant, “I did not. It was simply too much of an coincidence that within 24 hours of his being virtually abducted by the Air Force that she would get a message that caused her to drop everything in her busy life and rush off.”

“We may never know how the message was delivered to her, but now we must ask ourselves if she is the Tech-Witch why she would want to enter within?” he asked, indicating the Rocket shaped neon sign.

Andrea looked at the shop and the repair yard beyond it. “The security system. If she is Suspect One, she’ll be able to access all the video data. That’ll give her leads to who took Alan Glenn.”

He smiled at her as she tried to understand the ramifications.

“But that would mean he is Suspect two! I know you’ve explained before how it could be done, but I still can’t wrap my head around it. I mean we’ve had him tested, searched his house, and never found anything,” she said, shaking her head.

“Suspect Two is a woman and he isn’t! I mean even with a padded suit disguise, he’d still be a guy. I just can’t see how Alan Glenn could pass as Kali!” she explained.

As the tall model moved inside the garage, Philippe transferred his attention to the image the roof mounted thermograph scanner provided. Ah the advantages of a company vehicle. The high tech device let one look through walls, even better than the fabled x-ray glasses, by reading the heat differential between items. This latest generation was truly magnifique.

The images were so detailed that he could see the laptop she carried in her carry bag. He paid attention as the supposedly inactive machine’s hard drive came to life and how long it lasted. A suspicious man might deduce she’d used her supra-abilities to locate the information she desired and downloaded it to her machine.

Of course once again no proof, only suspicions. Even if they arrested Margaret Carson, and searched that device, he’d no doubt they would find nothing but what she wanted them to see. Despite this seemingly lack of success, this was the closest he’d come to these two specters in the twenty years of the chase.

Philippe wondered at the relationship between his two amazons. That Margaret Carson had dropped everything so suddenly suggested something close. It was yet another part of this puzzle to bear in mind.

A short time latter, they were tailing her as she took a cab to the airport Hilton. As always, he took the opportunity to further school his young protégé.

“What do you believe our suspect’s next move will be Andrea?” he asked.

“If it was anyone else I would think she’d plans to take a flight since her car is in the shop for several days. However, you’re always saying how nothing is obvious with these suspects. So taking a room near the airport help confuses just what she is intending and if it is as well a diversion, the busy traffic in this area makes tailing her difficult.”

“We also can’t assume she is working alone. This network of theirs could easily arrange a pickup and drop-off. On the other hand, we have access to information she doesn’t about the probable location of Alan Glenn. How do we know she’d be able to track him?” his assistant asked.

Looking as their subject paid the cabby, and her few bags were loaded onto a trolley, the Inspector replied, “First we have to make some assumptions about her abilities, yes? We know she has an almost telepathic-like interface with electronics. This suggests she might be a very able hacker. She is likely not on the same scale as Cybernexx, but still quite effective, I imagine.”

“She doesn’t have to break the Air Force data security. We know Dr. McClellan was present at Alan Glenn’s arrest. If she did get the security footage, she would know him for it was at the investigation of Project Meridian that these two first met.

“Tracking down where Alan Glenn is being held might be difficult, but she has only to find this famous scientist instead. Besides we must also be aware that if these two amazons of ours are as close as we suspect, the secret of where Area 61 is might already be known to her.”

“It is possible that we could be lucky, and she’ll take a flight to one of the large cities near her objective, depending upon that network you mentioned to provide her with whatever equipment she needs on her way. However if they are as close as I believe them to be, we can’t overlook the emotional response.”

“How would you pack if you knew that your loved one was held in a near impenetrable fortress hidden in an inhospitable desert? What’s more you have no idea if he is alive or dead nor do you know of why besides of some trumped up arrest charge,” he asked.

Andrea thought about it. “You think she’ll go loaded for bear?”

Philippe smiled at the colorful American expression. “Yes. She will, as you would put it, bring out the big guns. We have never seen these two really get aggressive. It could be rather spectacular!”

Andrea countered, “What about those agents who’d they’d singled out? All had been brutally treated, and one had even been attacked on three different occasions!”

His smile disappeared. “Each of those had not one but many complaints about their behavior towards those in their custody. It is a stain upon this organization that they all weren’t brought on charges.”

“As for the agent you’re referring to, if I remember correctly he was struck in the groin hard enough to cause damage serious enough to require regeneration therapy not once but on three separate occasions. I can only say they were more merciful than I.”

“We both know it was only because his superiors turned a blind eye to his activities that he wasn’t dismissed for disgraceful conduct long ago. I’ve always thought they showed great restraint given they could have simply killed him. Instead it took not one or two attitude adjustments, but three for him to get the idea to formally resign.”

Philippe turned and looked Andrea in her eyes. “Remember this. These two women avoid confrontations whenever they can. In every incident, they rescue mutants from arrest. It can be argued that they are saving lives given the number of fatalities that happen to those within our custody.”

She started to protest, but he held up his hand to forestall her.

“Yes I know those they rescue had warrants for their arrest and our two amazons are criminals for aiding and abetting their escape among other charges. However remember that here, unlike my home; one is not guilty until it is proven. More over, we must hold ourselves to a higher standard of conduct and not behave like animals,” the old inspector said fiercely.

Shaking his head he sighed. “Forgive an old man for drifting off the subject at hand.”

“She will either disappear here to arm herself or have one of their network meet her on the way with said armaments. If here, it is likely it is Alan Glenn’s secret cache that we’ve been unable to find despite our searches of his property.”

His assistant blinked as he changed the subject. “Do you want to increase the surveillance of his home and business?” she asked.

“No. Have Team Two that has been watching Margaret Carson depart for Las Vegas. They need some time to rest. Team Three that was watching Alan Glenn will take over her surveillance. They will accompany us. If we lose her here, I want search warrants for his home. Perhaps if she is hasty and careless we may yet solve this mystery.”

Between Universes

The entity knew not of hunger or pain. Its very body burned with anger and rage. The immense power within it blazed with energy. Its blood, hotter than suns, burned in its veins as matter was devoured by anti-matter in its rampant heart.

Endlessly, it had been trapped in this fissure between worlds. The rage it felt could not be contained and slowly particle by particle it tore itself free. Lightning flowed like rain as electrons were ripped asunder in a flood of power.

Soon it would burst free of this genie’s bottle and the world would burn.

Chapter Eighteen

Charlotte, NC

September 10, 2008

ETWF: 19 Days

Maggie Carson smiled as the Mercedes C-class sedan pulled up to the curb, cutting off a taxi trying to take advantage of the late night nightclub crowd. Her lover jokingly called it, ‘the family car.’ She slipped into the empty driver’s seat; hands snapping shut the five point racing harness as she commanded the car’s autopilot, “Begin Razzle Dazzle.”

The hydrogen powered V12 slammed her back into her seat as it blasted from zero to 60 in under four seconds. The tires squealed as the car nimbly skipped across the lanes of traffic. Val may have done most of the work on the body and motor, but Maggie had added some of her own technical magic as well.

The upcoming traffic light cycled a little slower so the speeding car had a clear road ahead. A Heads-Up-Display (HUD) like that used for high performance military aircraft lit up, identifying upcoming intersections and potential hazards such as the local cops.

Maggie smiled thinking of her pursers’ dilemma. She didn’t need the HUD for that was strictly for Val’s convenience. Using her powers to interfere with her watchers communications she let the autopilot take them away. With luck, no one saw her enter the car, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She just didn’t have the time to screw around.

The car slowed as its system changed the traffic lights behind them to ‘Red Light’ any pursuers. She checked for RPV’s and other surveillance devices but breathed easy when she found none. At a more sedate pace, the ‘family car’ headed for home.

It had started life off as a Mercedes C-class but Val, the car nut, had seen a Brabus Bullit in action. The Brabus Company had taken a Mercedes and after an extensive conversion had turned it into a fire-breathing monster. It was classed with other super-cars costing hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Of course, something like that was way out of character for their cover identities. Therefore, Val decided to build her own. Purchasing one Mercedes publicly and another used one under the table and off the books; she set out to outdo the original inspiration. Her business contacts made it easy to get the parts she needed and a little pleading to Maggie got her all the technical data with a some discreet hacking of the Barbus company‘s database.

What had come from that was what even she had to admit was a work of art, even if it did look like a sedan. After Maggie had gotten involved, they’d had quite the laugh about the super secret spy car they had. Using what started life off as the self-parking system, Maggie had given it the ability to drive itself and other systems that would have made the fabled ‘Q’ envious, even if they couldn’t show it to anyone. Ever the illusionist, Val had outwardly made the two cars match right down to the serial numbers.

Maggie sighed admitting that she’d gone a little over the top with her improvements. The memories of the two of them working together helped to dispel some the worry she felt about the fate of her partner and friend. She was hugging herself when the car pulled into the garage.

Normally the ‘family car’ would be hidden by parking it in the chamber underneath the ‘public car’ so that only one was ever visible. Val had stolen the idea from an old TV program. This time however Maggie would need all the special help she could get and so was taking the ‘family car’ on its first cross-country trip.

Quickly she grabbed her bags loaded down with all kinds of goodies. In the years, they’d been at their Crusade they’d had to prepare for almost any situation. Selecting the kit with the desert survival gear, she added it to her load. Thinking for a moment, she added both hers and Val’s heavy combat rigs to the pile.

Grunting, it took her a couple of trips to get everything loaded. She was glad for Val’s little folly now. Her Ford GTX could almost match the performance of the ‘family car’ but the sedan had a hell of a lot more room.

Back in her hotel room where she’d reviewed the footage of her lover’s abduction she’d recognized McClellan’s face at once. Knowing where to look online she’d found where he’d been taken in for questioning for unspecified reasons. She’d also seen where his employees had the business’s lawyers involved but didn’t expect them to make any difference.

Hitting the kitchen, she packed a cooler full of food and drinks. After dragging that to the nearly full car, she checked the house’s systems. It’d been maintaining the facade that the owner was still there by playing with the lights and other ruses.

Maggie changed it to notify all, that the resident was going on vacation for a few days. Then tired from the long drive to Charlotte as well as the stress and worry about Val she slipped back into the car ordering it to head for Tonopah NV. Reclining the seat back, she closed her eyes as the ‘family car’ backed out, continuing her quest.

Chapter Nineteen

Area 61

ETWF: 22 Days

Alan pushed the keyboard away, finished with his report to his blue suited blackmailers. Doc Mac and his lab monkeys would be measuring everything the kids could do, but to help them grow into their powers Alan had to evaluate their potential. That was more than just what the mutation had done to them. It was also, about what kind of kid they were and the person they could become.

Would they work at improving themselves? Did they have problems in groups or emotional issues? Not to mention since most of this bunch were teenagers, the whole boy/girl thing. When the mutation did its usual of making one stronger, faster, smarter and what-have-you, it often made one more attractive. That only made sense seeing how much appearance had to do propagating the species.

That didn’t ease his concerns about the looks he’d seen Josh and Amanda giving each other. If that wasn’t enough, Billy was going through his own trial regarding not just his sexuality but his very identity. Both Amanda and Malak seemed tolerant of him so far. Speaking of the twins, they’d been reserved so far. Malik definitely needed an outlet for his athletic energies while his sister needed a large enough area for her to practice her flying.

Then there was the whole question of how to deal with his old buddy Maxi-Badd. In a way, having them spar against themselves would be a nice tool. The problem was Max was a sociopath. Alan could almost feel sorry for him, since it was his mutation that had screwed him up royally in the head. That still didn’t make up for all the people he’d killed and crippled.

Sighing he laid down. Somewhere outside of this Hellhole, his lover was on her way to him. No doubt worried and wondering what had happened to him. Closing his eyes, he smiled remembering the last time he and Maggie had been together.

He’d almost drifted off to sleep on that happy thought when his door creaked open. Pretending to be asleep, Alan opened his Senses. He was instantly flooded with information. Scents, sounds, and the very touch of the air-conditioned breeze upon his skin spoke to him.

Miss Nosy Hathaway was still awake with her door open. She had stopped typing and was presumably listening to what was happening at his room. The kids were all asleep, but for the one coming closer to him now. The smell of milk and cookies she’d had was lingering about her because she hadn’t brushed her teeth. Lizzie.

A force-screen reinforced finger harder than a diamond poked him. Alan winced, dropping his sham of being awake. “Hey why did you do that for?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder while sitting up.

According to Doc Mac’s report, Lizzie produced an energy field about her that multiplied her strength many times over as well as protecting her. Using Psycho-kinesis to boost their normal physical abilities wasn’t a new trick among mutants, but usually it was ‘powered’ by what they ate or in some cases absorbed from other sources.

Lizzie’s power level was way up there. It was a mystery where and how she got the energy. Alan thought her biggest problem was that she was only six and was still figuring out this good/bad thing. She had the potential to turn out to be as much trouble as Maxi-Badd, an immensely strong nearly invulnerable spoiled brat.

Ignoring his question, her blue eyes looked into his. “Why is everyone afraid of me? Is it because I‘m different?”

Alan had a feeling this was one of those conversations he just had to get right. Despite what Ollie had told the kids the other night about keeping even him out, if he had to enter their minds, he could. He‘d shown them what a child of his people needed to know, but he was after all an adult. Besides Alan trusted his friend to mentally reach the child and show her what was right and wrong a lot more than he did Courtney, Nosey, Hathaway.

Of course, if he handled this right, neither of them would ever have to. “Am I afraid of you?” he asked.

Lizzie shook her blond curls. “No you pick me up and hug me all the time.”

He sat up and pointed out, “How about Amanda and Malak? They give you hugs too?”

She let a smile slip in. “Un huh. They give me candy too.”

Smiling back he said, “See? Not everybody at all. So why did you poke me?” he asked again.

Her face showed her concentration before she spoke, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Alan smiled at her wanting with all his heart to reach her with this message, “About people being afraid and if you’re different?”

Not being able to help herself she smiled back nodding yes.

“Did you have bullies at your school that pushed the littler kids around?” he questioned.

Her blond curls shook again at her nod. “Jeffery was always pushing everyone. He was mean.”

“Was he the only one who was bigger or taller than everyone else?” Alan continued.

Lizzie replied, “No. Mary Jo was really tall and Frank was big too.”

“Were they all mean too?” he asked.

Her face screwed up again thinking hard, “Sometimes but not always.”

“So the smaller kids were afraid of them because they were bigger and stronger even though not all of them were bullies?” he inquired.

As she nodded, he smiled. “Well there you are!”

She looked at him confused.

Gently Alan took her hands in his. “You’re a lot stronger now, right? And sometimes when you’re not careful, like you did waking me up, you use more strength then you mean to?”

Understanding dawned on her face and her smile disappeared, “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

He hugged the young girl. “Shh princess,” Alan comforted. “Just like those kids who were feared because they’re bigger, some who don’t know better fear those like us. Because we can turn invisible like Josh or make the winds blow while inside like Amanda.”

She spoke up, getting it. “Or stronger like Malik and me?”

“I know you’re not a bully because princesses’ and ballerinas’ are never mean, right?” he said seriously to her.

She got a sad look on her face saying, “They’re always beautiful and graceful, but I don’t mean to be so strong and break things.”

Not wanting her to start crying, he told her, “Today in the Dojo, that was what I was talking about. We’re going to show you how to be careful.”

“But now is time for you to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. All the others are already asleep,” he said, putting her down.

She asked, “How do you know I didn’t brush already?”

Smiling and sending her on her way out his door, “Because a little blue bird told me.”

Putting her hands on her hips, she scowled back. “But there aren’t any birds down here.”

Pretending as if he was watching something flying he replied, “These are the blue birds of happiness. You can’t see them when you’re sad, only when you’re happy. Now off to bed.”

She tried for moment squinting hard trying to see the non-existent birds, before turning and running to her room.

As he watched her leave, he reminded her, “And don’t forget to brush.”

He’d heard Hathaway come out of her room behind him. “You did very well for someone who’s never had children, Mr. Glenn.”

“She should be with her family not down here with the lab mice, but you know how I feel about that,” he said, turning around to face her.

The psychologist shook her head disagreeing. “She wouldn’t have stayed there long. Her parents didn’t have a clue how to handle a child like her. They would’ve sent her off to the Academy or some other school. For people like them, who you marry and the children you have are just status symbols. At the very least Lizzie would’ve interfered with their careers and social lives.”

“So that makes you think she is better off here, or is it because it advances your purposes?” he added.

Her face grew a little flush with anger. “I offer you a compliment and you give me an insult in return. Besides what is wrong with both of us profiting from this?”

His eyebrows rose in confrontation. “Let me give you a definition of wrong. Tomorrow a man convicted of multiple murders is going to create a clone of that little girl. She is going to have all of Lizzie’s strength, but the mind inside is going be one responsible for killing a whole lot of folks. I know you should be able to jerk the strings of any clone if it tries anything, but if you can’t, Lizzie may be the only one who can stop it.”

Alan took a deep breath, “That is what I call wrong.”

Crossing her arms, “I can assure you nothing is going to go wrong Mr. Glenn. I’m quite capable of making sure Mr. Simpson and his temporary copies behave themselves. Speaking of which how did you know I could do so, Mr. Glenn?” she asked frostily.

Giving a sideways grin he replied, “I felt you trying to pry where you weren’t wanted from the very beginning. Now you want to know how. Self-defense, Ms. Hathaway. General La Big-Feet thought he could use a telepath to program us to be good little zoomies too. You learn fast if you still want to be you in the morning.”

Turning to go back to bed, he said over his shoulder. “You haven’t been in this business long enough. Something always goes wrong. Good night, Ms. Hathaway.”

To be continued

The adventure continues in Part 4! Better yet a day early because of limited time tomorrow. Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty

Charlotte, NC

ETWF: 22 Days

From long practice, Phillipe Imbert’s eyes snapped open from his sleep. Reaching for hotel nightstand and the ringing phone, he answered, “Yes?”

“This is agent Smith, night detail. We’ve lost the suspect. She left her room at the same time the nightclub crowd was going home. We think she slipped into a Mercedes that roared out of here. We’re trying to trace it now. Sorry sir.”

“Contact the local constabulary and ask they put out an All-Points-Bulletin, APB, on the vehicle. Politely mind you! I will wake the team that came with me. Do your best.”

He was dressing as he dialed Andrea’s number. Her sleepy voice answered, but he gave her no chance to reply, “Andrea our quarry has flown. We will need that search warrant for Alan Glenn’s residence right now. Meet me in the lobby.”

The inspector waited a moment to make sure she was actually awake before dialing the rest of his team. These youngsters. Blah, no staying power! Still he was grateful he had turned in early for it was only a little pass midnight.

He had gathered his bags, wanting to waste no time in departing for the west if Margaret Carson had indeed decamped. It was important to reach Alan Glenn’s house as quickly as possible even though there were agents watching the property.

Even still, he beat Andrea and the rest to the lobby. Sipping this American excuse for coffee, he tried not to make a face. At least dinner had been tolerable with a passable wine. Chivying his drowsy agents along, soon the training, they had all gone though had them wide-awake.

As the time passed, the APB had no hits and the vehicle his agents thought she had escaped in had actually been miles away with its owner safe and sound asleep. Philippe could do nothing but nod as the information came in. But, of course, the car had disappeared into thin air! He was waiting to hear from his agents watching Alan Glenn’s properties, but as yet nothing. It was always possible his cache was somewhere else in this city, but the Inspector favored the simplest approach.

His hopes faded as they drove into their suspect’s neighborhood. A Mercedes did pass them, but alas, it was the wrong color. Philippe had still given the driver careful scrutiny as she passed, but the elfin dark haired girl didn’t look at all like the statuesque strawberry blond model they were chasing. Ever suspicious he made sure Andrea ran the plates anyways.

As he had feared no one had seen anything, but even so, he decided to go ahead with the search. Entering Philippe found the abode typical of the American male. It was tasteful, but the clear primary purpose was for displaying the abundance of entertainment electronics! There was some clutter, but no sign anyone had come and gone in a hurry.

His other agents checked rest of the premises, but he was seeking to get a feel for who Alan Glenn was. There were few pictures, but it seemed sterile to him somehow. Walking to the large garage, He saw that there were several automobiles in various stages of disassembly. The work place was relatively clean and well kept, but their suspect was a professional mechanic after all.

Even this early in the morning, it was still muggy and warm in the back yard. The area was landscaped as to give privacy from the neighbors. Bricked paths wandered among the bushes, trees and other plants. A fountain was set in the center and babbled softly in the southern night.

Sitting on an ornamented bench in this garden, he breathed in seeking to relax. Why all of this he wondered. The house was much what he expected of an American male of Alan Glenn’s reputation. This garden however had a deep peace about it. Certainly, he knew many so called macho males enjoyed gardening. The inspector himself had a passion for roses, but this seemed different to him some how.

Looking about at the trees it occurred to him, five. Not a garden at all but a memorial. One tree for each for his comrades who died. Standing he looked for the best vantage point to view this rather remarkable display. He bumped into a fence.

Andrea helpfully provided a torch letting him survey the area. The property directly to the rear of this one not only did not give any privacy but also gave the best view of the shrine.

Finally daring to speak, Andrea asked, “Did you find something sir?”

Smiling the old Frenchman took her gently by the shoulders turning her to face the garden. “What do you see my dear?”

The young woman responded, “I see a landscaped backyard with a brick path winding around island like areas with trees and bushes. A fountain is in the middle.”

“Alan Glenn lost five people who were like family to him. How many trees are there? Notice how each one is of a different species, Oak, Rowan, Ash, and others. See how the shape they form, yes? Now where is the best place to enjoy this display?”

She turned looking at the same house that had caught his attention. “Do you want me to get another search warrant? The authorities here are getting testy about our requests with little or no evidence.”

“No. As you say, we have nothing of substance. However, who lives here and what make of auto do they drive?” He asked looking for a way in. Failing that, he briskly walked back the way they had come. Pausing he stopped by the trashcan. He took a quick sniff and took the wheel of their SUV.

Andrea struggling to keep up while typing into her PDA had hardly shut her door before they were off. With screech, they stopped in front of the home. The Inspector checked their trash as well before bounding onto the porch of the house.

This home had what could only be called feminine accents with planters hanging from the eaves and the flowery curtains. Peeking in he saw more signs of a woman’s touch. He rushed off the porch to peer over the gate to the backyard seeing a pool and a deck.

He saw her amazed look as he examined the house. Philippe took out his ever-present notepad and made a couple of notes. As a favor to Andrea, he had used one of those new pens that electronically recorded his words although he refused to give up his real paper pad!

“Well,” He said waiting impatiently for her to give him his answers. In all of the years, he had been on this case and now just maybe they had indeed gotten their break.

She read, “Valentina Zarya Savitskaya.” Looking up at her mentor, she said, “She drives a white 2006 Mercedes C-class sedan. That’s the same one we saw leaving as we arrived.” She said excitedly realizing just how close they‘d been.

He too felt the excitement as well but was thinking ahead.

Andrea exclaimed, “That might be enough to get us that search warrant.”

“Yes it might, and it is very tempting. However, it could alert her as well. First we must find that car if we can, but only to follow. This has given us our big break, and we must not squander it! Next, we must find out all about this Valentina. Both of these houses must be closely watched, but I doubt anything will happen here.”

“It will be at Area 61. Merde! We must make haste. Gather the team and make preparations to depart immediately to the nearest large city.” He directed walking back to their vehicle.

She replied, “Las Vegas.”

“Good. See if they have the equipment on hand for two teams out in the desert. I will be on the secure line to the Assistant Director of Investigations. Now is the time for Haste!” He said as they sped off to pick up the other agents. Who knew the number of times Alan Glenn’s house had been searched, but no one had bothered looking at that marvelous garden. A voice within him asked if it was worth it finally to know that he had been right all this time. He heard no answers.

The engineers carefully double-checked each power connection of the rather unremarkable appearing suitcase sized box. What were outrageous were the electrical connections designed to handle loads for entire towns leading into it. In fact, the power bus and backup power supply and the rest of the auxiliary equipment were far larger than the box.

Convinced all was secure the heavy-duty forklift slowly lifted the unit free of the housing that had held it for thirty-four years. Three teams overlooking the move watchful for the tiniest problem. They all knew if anything went wrong, every one of them would be dead before they knew it.

It took hours for the procession to creep out of the high security vaults. The powers-that-be had mandated that the move had to be made at night to avoid as much attention as possible. While many of the crew breathed relived upon reaching Elevator shaft number 6, other’s palms grew sweaty as they positioned the unit in place hooking up the power cables. Muttering prayers, they then placed the explosives meant to eject it from the shaft in case of an emergency.

Emerging from the shaft, they watched as it was position partially up the shaft while the bottom was filled with high-tech foam that quickly hardened into a concrete hard stopper. Weary, the crew departed for their debriefing while another checked their work. Satisfied, they hung a sign on the shaft. ‘Out of Order, Toxic Spill.’

A pair of guards took their post. Unnoticed was the small robot that normally delivered the mail to offices within Area 61. With a whirl of electric motors, it went about its way leaving the architects of Project Meridian unaware that part of their plans had been discovered.

Chapter Twenty-one

Area 61

September 11, 2008

ETWF: 21 Days

Alan opened his green painted locker unsurprised to find a Karate style Gi. Personally, he preferred his Aikido Hakama, but it was after all just clothing. Karate and Judo had been the first forms he’d learned here long ago.

Dressing he tried not to look at the red locker that was also his. It surprised him that so little had changed here in almost thirty-five years even though he was in what they used to call officer country. Really, it was just the instructor’s private changing room.

They all had two lockers, one green with their usual exercise clothes, and one red with their combat gear. Of course, they didn’t have the keys for those back then, but the lockers all had electronic thumb pads now.

Stiffening, Alan heard someone come in with a heavy tread that was definitely wasn’t one of the kids.

He closed his eyes as he heard Doc Mac say, “Hello Alan. I hope I’m not intruding but there has been something I wanted to ask you. When you disappeared so many years ago, just how did you neutralize the radioactive tracer? We found your subcutaneous implant you fed to that dog, but we never expected you to somehow get by the ingested tracer.”

Alan, not caring if he sound civil or not, said, “Fatty tissue. Once I realized how I’d been marked, I knew the compound would accumulate in my fatty tissues. Then it was simply a case of detoxification of those tissues.”

He got some satisfaction from Doc’s shock look of disbelief.

“Tell me you’re not talking about Hubbard?” The old scientist almost begged offended by the very thought.

Alan replied, “Then I won’t, but I will admit that while I don’t care for his works, this one did do the trick.”

Doc Mac shook head in disbelief, “You always were creative and stubborn. Performing surgery on yourself and then you went and brought your body fat index dangerously low. I hope you do know just how hazardous that was.”

More snarl than smile Alan said, “I might’ve been out this prison, but I knew I was still in the trap. Haven’t you ever heard of an animal gnawing off its own leg to escape a trap?”

The old scientist asked sadly, “Was it as bad as that here, Alan?”

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Alan said nothing.

Doc Mac waited for him to answer, but sighed at the silence that was the reply. “I don’t suppose you’re going to reveal where you hid for those 14 years are you?”

Alan only shook head.

The balding scientist shrugged his shoulders sighing. “Alan I can’t change the past. Perhaps some day you can forgive what happened. Now that you’re here there is something I want to show you.”

He paid attention to how Doc’s thumbprint opened the red locker. It figured Doc Mac’s would override everyone else’s personal space

“Come on over and see, Alan,” The scientist gestured him over. “It’s a little bulky to handle easily.”

Sighing, Alan got up and looked at the uniform in the locker. It was blue with white and red trim like The Rocketeer’s had been. The difference was this one was had hard plastic like panels unlike the flexible lightweight mesh theirs had been made of.

He’d always had to wear a helmet because of his supra-speed power. Without it, the speed of his running prevented him from hearing his tactical radio that kept in contact with the rest of his team. The helmet also let them add all sorts of goodies like GPS, sensors, and others.

This one also had a helmet, but it was tear-dropped shaped for streamlining. Picking it up he could see it too was loaded with electronics. “You know Doc. I keep telling you guys I lost my powers. This is nice but doesn’t do me a lot of good.”

“I know Alan. This is what I had planned on giving you years ago following your exposure to Z-Ray 9. Back then you could almost reach Mach 1 and I had hopes that after the exposure you could even break the sound barrier.”

The scientist sighed, “Those were exciting days back then, but even then you had problems stabilizing yourself at high speeds due to air compression problems approaching the sound barrier.”

“Watch this,” Doc Mac said press on a control on the helmet. One by one, panels on the suit opened and closed themselves like flaps and ailerons on an aircraft.

“You see these aren’t for protection so much as they are control surfaces. The computer in the helmet reads your intended destination from your biometrics and uses these surfaces to help. The entire setup would have to be calibrated, but with it I’m sure you could’ve done it.”

“I know that a number of supra-normal flyers have managed to break the sound barrier, but very few have ever done it on land. It is only in the last few years that a man in a machine managed it. Still it is a dream that I suppose will never come true now. I have waited for years thinking your powers would eventually return. Why they haven’t I’m at a complete loss to explain.”

Shaking his head the scientist shook his head sadly, “I suppose I’ll have to wait for another speedster with the old Vroom’s potential to come along. The suit is adjustable so it would take only minor changes to fit it to someone else. Thank you Alan for humoring an old man.”

Rubbing his chin, Alan had to admit it was one hell of super-suit. “It’s a real beaut Doc. Since you said the control surfaces primary purpose wasn’t as armor, they still provide some protection?”

Doc Mac smiled, “That’s correct. The flexible parts of the suit are made from micromesh like your old uniforms, but the hard panels are crafted from a bulletproof thermo-plastic. The mesh, like before, can stop pistol rounds, but the hard panels should be good against most small arms.”

Glancing up at the clock, Alan cut their conversation short. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run, a class to teach.” He said point up at clock on the wall.

Together as they walked out Alan asked. “Hey Doc since we’re talking about super-suits, have you any ideas for ones for the kids?”

Doc Mac ran his hand over his balding head saying, “Well Alan you know me. I am always coming up with ideas. There are some preliminary sketches and thoughts, but we need more data before finalizing anything. After we get them in the lab tomorrow, we should know more. Have you any thoughts Alan?”

Alan grinned, “I might have something to add. Tonight I’ll write them up.” He said walking away.

Well that answers the question if he suspects or not. That would be a big yes. Doc Mac was right. Alan did know him and the man’s brain never ever stopped. He seemed to have the idea Alan might be a metamorph with that talk about the speed suit being adjustable. Yes sirree, he suspected all right.

Now what do you suppose is hidden in that suit; Trackers, explosives, or maybe some other means of incapacitation? Alan had few illusions about his own capabilities. He’d been training his whole life to find and expand those limits. Intelligence and problem solving skills needed to be pushed to improve them just like the body did. He knew his, hard to define quality known as IQ, was up there in the hard to measure area.

It didn’t make him better than anyone else, just faster at figuring stuff out sometimes. Alan also knew Doc Mac was a hell of lot smarter than he was. You just don’t become an expert in so many different fields without having something seriously on the ball. Although no one had ever said so, he’d also thought the only difference between a mad genius like Dr. Mortis and Doc Mac was the latter was more or less on their side.

As kids, he and the rest of Team Rocket had seen that mad glint behind kindly Doctor McClellan’s eyes, and while they all grew to even call him friend, Alan never forgot it. Oh yeah, he knew Doc alright. He was insatiably curious and controlling with his desire to measure and qualify everything.

If Alan ever had doubts about that as a child, he had none now. After more than forty years, Doc was still king down here. All those so-called super-geniues with their grandiose plans, HA! Nothing but pikers. Doc had this state of the art laboratory, paid for by tax dollars, protected by one of the world’s superpowers, and as Alan’s attempt to have him pay for the crimes he’d committed by experimenting on children had proved, exempt from the law.

One-day justice would catch up with him, but for now, he still reigned. Speaking of justice, Alan saw Maxi-Badd being led in by his zoomie cop handlers. Repressing a grin, he noticed Courtney Hathaway in her usual horn rim glasses and white lab coat. Her attempts to manipulate him were almost laughable, but she was working from some mistaken assumptions.

While she might be barking up the wrong tree, he was more concerned with Max right now. “Hey Max. Have a good night?” He greeted the big criminal.

Turning an eye to him that wished him anything but, Maxi replied, “Yeah it was good having weight on my chest again Squirt. That low gravity crap sucks.”

Just like with an animal show no fear, no challenge, just calmness was how he decided was the best way to handle this. Keeping his face neutral, Alan said to him, “Okay I want to keep this as painless as possible for you, as well as for us.”

“Did you get a chance to read those rules of the Dojo I sent you and are you willing to abide by them?” Alan asked.

The con nodded his head. “Yeah, I know’em.” He said shrugging. “What choice do I have if I want’ta be free? You’ve me by the short and curlies.” He said, throwing his head in the direction of Dr. Hathaway and the zoomies holding the remotes to the cortex bomb in his head.

Alan returned his nod saying, “We’ll have each of my students come up to you one at a time for you to touch. When the clone appears, he or she will show the student everything they instinctively know how to do. Then the student will show the clone everything they’ve learned to show the difference between discovering new talents, and learning how to use those gifts.”

After your double ‘times out’ the next student will take their turn. Do you see any problems with this?” Alan asked.

The big guy shook his head. “Nah, that sounds like it will work and thanks Squirt.”

Alan raised an eyebrow in question. “Thanks?”

A sheepishly the con shrugged again. “For not referring to them as its. They’re me, you know? I know them,” He said pointing his fingers at Hathaway and the guards, “don’t think my touch makes people. To them they’re just temporary things, but I know. They’ve begged me to keep them from just disappearing, to keep them from dying, and I would if I could.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more but changed his mind. Then he asked something else. “Are there going to be chicks like ya’ said?”

Blinking Alan asked, “You mean girls? Yes, three of them.” He answered a little alarmed by the question.

The black man got a pained look, “They don’t like that. Awaking as girls, I mean. Its hard enough knowing ya’ only going to be alive for just so long without being a chick too.”

A little relived at the nature of the problem Alan replied, “If it helps any they’ll all be wearing Gi’s like mine. Nothing frilly.” Here’s hoping that Lizzie wasn’t in her tutu today.

The big guy grunted obviously not happy, but Alan couldn’t blame him too much. He was being blackmail too into doing something he definitely didn’t want to. Leaving them, he went to the Dojo where his students were warming up. Calling them to order it was time to start this class.

Mr. Glenn had suspected that Bill might know of Maxi-Badd and he’d been right. Arresting him had been one of The Rocketeer’s more high profile cases. He’d asked him not to alarm the rest of the kids, and had enlisted him to help keep an eye on the huge super-villain.

Right now Bill had butterflies fluttering around inside him after seeing just how large Maxi-Badd was. The black man was huge! He had to duck coming into the room. Bill didn’t think he was prejudiced, but Maxi-Badd was about the scariest person he’d ever seen.

It didn’t help knowing that a whole lot of people had died at his hands. The Chicago supra-team, the Untouchables, was mauled by him. The Rocketeers hadn’t any too easy of time either, but had managed to carry the day. The damage had been estimated to be in the millions and many calls had gone out for the death penalty.

The American Civil Liberty Union had gotten involved when it’d become clear that to execute Maxi-Bad would require extreme means that they declared as cruel and unusual punishment. ULTIMATE solved the problem with the activation of Dark Side Penitentiary.

That prison on the moon became the new boogieman for mothers to threaten their kids with. Behave yourself or you’ll be sent where the real monsters were. Now here was one of the Trolls of his childhood in the flesh.

Mr. Glenn explained that Saul Simpson was on a work release program designed to help young mutants stay away from crime. His power besides being so big was to duplicate others temporarily with a clone. This copy would have all of their powers but none of their memories or even look much like them besides in general size and shape. They were more like Saul Simpson versions of themselves.

Since the duplicate had an instinctive knowledge of how to use their powers, Saul was going to help them discover more about their abilities. One at a time, they were going to take turns letting Mr. Simpson copy them. Then the clone would show them the things she or he could do with their power.

Mr. Glenn called out, “You’re first Josh.”

Bill could see the high school junior wanted nothing more than to cause another ‘Code Joshua,’ but he’d been tolerant the whole day so far. Unhappily, Josh walked over to the big convict and bowed like he’d been told.

A bloom of light and then suddenly there was someone else in the room as the mass-murderer touched him.

The new guy looked liked a younger Maxi-Badd except with hair. However in everything else but the face he looked liked Josh. Both Maxi-Bad and Maxi-Josh had their eyes shut. When they opened them, the big man breathed a sigh of relief while the clone winced as if finding out something really unpleasant.

That confused Bill. He could tell whatever was happening was supercharged with emotions, but didn’t know why.

Maxi-Bad urged the clone to bow and hesitantly he did. Then Josh and Maxi-Josh stepped to the center of the Dojo to do their thing. The older boy got some of his own medicine as his clone faded out in front of him. Then he reappeared but then Bill and everyone else disappeared!

He held out his hand in front of him but didn’t see a thing. Bill heard everyone muttering a little panicky but Mr. Glenn shouted, “Hold!”

They’d been told when they heard that to instantly stop and back away if sparring or cease using whatever power you’d been using.

Bill breathed as he could see himself again. He saw the security police guys relax some too.

Maxi-Josh said, “It’s just like your invisibility power telling everyone one ‘don’t see me’ except I’m telling everyone ‘I don’t want’ta see ya.’ I think ya’ could blind people too by telling them, ‘see nothing.’ He pointed at the security police, “I didn’t want to make’em too nervous.”

Then Josh tried doing some of the same things. Bill did see he went invisible a lot faster than the clone did, but he had problems with the new stuff. He couldn’t make everyone disappear but he could make someone else other than himself, which was neat.

Bill found himself glancing over at Malak. He still thought she was just so exoctic looking. It was awkward talking to her even though they’d been in classes together for the last two days. Morosely he thought that even if he did know what to say, he wasn’t even sure what he was at heart, a boy or a girl.

Thinking about that was how he missed what happened. Bill knew that Maxi-Badd’s clones only lasted 15 or 20 minutes or even sooner if he made more than one. He guessed it was almost time for Maxi-Josh to dematerialize when Dr. McClellan showed up!

He couldn’t hear much of what was being said, but it sounded like Dr. McClellan wanted to some tests on the clones before they disappeared. Mr. Glenn and Maxi-Bad didn’t like that, but the Doctor got his way.

Then it was his turn to be cloned. He was a little surprised at the shapes he could take but it seemed Maxi-Bill couldn’t do his disguise trick. Well he wasn’t going to show anyone that because it was his way to be her. It was a private thing.

Then it was over and Dr. McClellan came for Maxi-Bill. This time he heard the huge old criminal almost whisper, “I just don’t want’em to have’ta die alone.”

Bill just couldn’t get those words out of his mind even when Lizzie started flying, Amanda made it snow, and Malak threw a lightning bolt. As each clone was led out, he kept hearing those words. “I just donna' want’em to have’ta die alone.” Those sad rough spoken words were made by a towering troll of a man who had proven to the world that he was a true monster by the lives that had ended in his huge hands. It was something that kept the teen awake that night thinking that perhaps somewhere within that ogre was still a human heart.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Las Vegas

September 12, 2008

ETWF: 20 Days

Inspector Imbert finished his fond farewell to the marvelous chef whom had prepared such a wonderful lunch for him. He had eaten here before at the unassuming pink brick restaurant in Las Vegas, but this time it was perfection. Philippe did not delude himself into thinking he was a gourmet. He was simply a Frenchman who missed the flavors and familiar dishes of his home.

He felt not the least bit guilty of putting the sizable bill on his expense account. After dealing with his unpleasant superior on the night before, it was only a just reward. Philippe had wanted to warn him of the American military illegally experimenting on children once more.

Instead, he had found the directors had actually aided the Americans in this endeavor by releasing into their custody a very dangerous criminal! Rather than investigate and confront them with evidence of the breaking of the treaties, they were fueling the fire hoping that it would boil over!

It somehow escaped them that there were innocents involved. Or perhaps it did not, he thought sourly. The six children were but mutants after all. No, the directors had not been dismayed at all by the possibility that Lady Athena and the Tech-Witch were also involved in this potentially catastrophic situation dangerously bubbling away. It was their fondest wish that all of their problems would eliminate each other leaving ULTIMATE nothing to do, but say, I told you so.

They had denied his requests for one of ULTIMATE’s supra-teams as well as a dropship assault company to be placed on stand-by in Las Vegas. Further, he would not even have any support at all other than his investigation and the surveillance teams that had been watching Margaret Carson and Alan Glenn.

Needless to say, if something did happen out in the Mojave those scant resources would be helpless in the face of what he thought might erupt. He had decided to have his people cover the towns nearby Area 61. They would be best used to see who went into the area and with good fortune pick up survivors on their way out.

That strategy had already had some early success by sighting Maggie Carson in a Tonopah diner. She must have driven like a mad woman all night to reach here so soon, but there she was. That opened up the possibility of following her to her destination.

Despite his age he felt the desire to finally to know if his guesses had been correct about Alan Glenn and Maggie Carson. It boggled the mind that even he failed to see just how deep a game they might be playing. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together but the picture it formed was one that was totally unexpected.

Andrea was waiting for him at one of the outrageous American Hummers vehicles. He knew of their reputation for being able to go anywhere, but did they have to make them so big and ugly?

She had looked on amused as he had profusely praised Chef Raul. Climbing into the vehicle, he was thankful this one had air conditioning. They had a trip of three hours to look forward to. Plenty of time to discus Valentina Savitskaya and the unexpected twists this case had taken.

His assistant sighed as she saw the folder she had prepared in his hands. Philippe smiled at her reaction. Often, in this profession, one must think in a twisted convoluted fashion like law-enforcement criminal profilers. However for them it was even worse given the mad genius and abilities their suspects often possessed.

Holding up the folder, he asked, “Since you prepared this, what are your thoughts on the connection with Valentina Savitskaya?”

Andrea closed her eyes giving her to gather her thoughts and began. “Valentina Zarya Savitskaya is 37 and was born in the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic. She immigrated to the United States in 1990 and has worked for several modeling agencies but primarily for Margaret Carson’s.”

Philippe kept his smile to himself as he observed his assistant’s happiness with finding facts that were more in line with her view of the world. Nodding for her to continue, he sat back to listen.

“She is in our database going by the code name of Dixie Belle.” Andrea got a pained look as she read the rest. “Unfortunately, she is known for saying ‘I’m just a girl from Georgia’ with an over the top southern accent.”

“The official profile lists her as a Beta class mutant with the power of heighten senses. She was one of the many mutants that suddenly appeared at the breakup of the Soviet Union. It was clumsily explained as a paperwork error, but was really just their hiding what amounted to a small army of supra-humans. She and her family lived in Almaty 3; one of the USSR’s hidden cities researching supra-humans. ”

Excitedly Andrea went on with her report. “Because her powers were combat oriented she was trained in special forces tactics and strategies. She is also a gymnast and has martial arts training. Additionally her general description matches that of Kali. ”

Gently as not to embarrass her, the inspector asked, “With an oblivious connection to Ms. Carson why was she not considered a suspect at the beginning?”

Her enthusiasm waning she replied, “Age and location. Kali’s first confirmed appearance was in 1989 making Valentina not only 17 but still living in the USSR. Moreover, although some of her powers were somewhat like those exhibited by Kali, She lacks the strength and physical toughness.”

“I can see the links, but not how it all fits together.” Andrea said irked. “She works for Carson, but lives next door to Glenn. Her house shares a view of that garden which has great emotional significance to him. She is a registered mutant and superhero, he isn’t. Both have a military background, perhaps she even more so than he, given her Spetsnaz training.”

“Carson drops everything and heads straight to where when she gets the message he’s been arrested although the entire incident was kept very low key. Not even a message to this Valentina although she’d worked for her for years. However, we both saw Savitskaya last night leaving for Tonopah where we saw her car today. But our surveillance team hasn’t spotted the Russian at all, just the car and Carson.” She said shaking her head.

Inspector Imbert rubbed his chin in thought and then said, “We need more information about Ms. Savitskaya’s family and life before she immigrated. Moreover we need to know where they are now and what they‘re doing. I feel the 14 years Alan Glenn was missing is the key to this puzzle.”

Looking at her speculatively he asked, “Let us say you’re 14 years old and running away from home. Where would you go?”

Andrea thought about and answered, “The larger cities are always good places to lose oneself. The problem is many of the children who do so are taken advantaged of by predators of every stripe.”

Phillippe nodded and asked another, “Let us change the question. How about a person who’d received several years of training in espionage?”

She smiled saying, “That is a different scenario. I would try to find the last possible place anyone would think to look. Either under their nose where they wouldn't look or some place where it would difficult for my pursers to follow.”

Shaking a finger in the air, the inspector declared, “But that is exactly the question we have to answer. Alan had four years of training in many of the espionage arts as well as being fourteen years old. He also had an abiding distrust of his government.”

“You bring up another good point with mentioning the old Soviet program to hide their supra-humans from ULTIMATE inspection teams. Did the United States have or was it developing some way of letting them pass an examination without revealing their powers? Is this why Alan Glenn consistently passes our tests?”

“Patience, Andrea. We are gathering the pieces. Trust me. We will figure out this tangle. For now look for those records, while I decide who amongst our available resources has the best chance of trailing Margaret Carson into the Mojave.” The inspector said looking out the tinted windows as the outskirts of the city disappeared. His reflection gave the illusion of him floating outside in the oppressive heat. A thought teased his consciousness, but escaped him. Sighing he turned back to his work.

Tonopah, NV

Maggie spotted her tail on her way back to the ‘family car’ from the café. The energy signatures from their weapons labeled them as ULTIMATE agents. Discoveries made possible by captured Alien technologies from the attempted invasion some ten years ago had found all sorts of applications. They made possible energy weapons like the GATS, but they were so expensive no one else could afford them.

She found it ironic that ULTIMATE had argued for the costly weapons because they faced threats unlike that of most law enforcement officers. The GAT was the one weapon her powers could completely control. Oh, she could shut down the fancy sighting devices most conventional handguns had now days, but she couldn’t stop the purely mechanical operation unless she was so close it didn’t really matter.

Still smiling she remembered an old line from a favorite movie as she quickly slipped into the passenger seat. ‘The fancier the plumbing the easier it is to stop up the drain.’ The actor that had said that had gone on to his rewards amongst the stars, but she wondered what he would say about their ‘family car.’ Both Val and she had given it as many ‘bells and whistles’ as they could stuff into it.

She put one of those to work now. From the outside, it appeared as if Val had been reclining on the driver side and was now sitting up ready to go. In reality, no one was there at all. Maggie had even carried a bag of food with her as if to give it to her driver. It was more smoke and mirrors if hi-tech ones. When the car was operating without a driver, the images helped eliminate anyone freaking out at the driverless machine.

However, with her ability to directly interface with the system let her produce any picture she desired. Her modeling work had refined her eye for such things and she made sure to further confuse the fact Val wasn’t with her. Maggie may not be the illusionist her lover was, but the fashion industry was also adept at creating fantasy without substance.

On her command the ‘family car’ backed out and headed towards the hotel where she‘d been planning on staying. Seeing her tail following she sighed. She’d really wanted a day or two to prepare herself before heading into the sand, but it seemed she wasn’t going to get it. Maggie should’ve expected someone would be on the ball and was watching the small towns around her objective. She could’ve hidden in the muddle that was Las Vegas, but it was three hours away. Her desire to be closer had betrayed her.

Maggie closed her eyes concentrating sending her power out seeking the vehicle following her. Feeling the web of electricity, she dripped her meta-physical fingers into the steam of electrons disrupting the current. With a crackle, the alternator/generator fried itself. Smiling to herself, she knew that with the air conditioning, radios, and whatever else running it wouldn’t take long to kill the battery. She hoped they had roadside assistance.

Soon enough she was free of observers, and free to proceed to her planned hiding spot. All the surveillance the government kept upon Area 61 and the surrounding communities made it a challenge to find a secure place. Talk about having a tough time finding a spot to park!

Pulling into the ruins of the old ranch, she used a branch to cover her tire tracks. Then it was time for some more magic. Maggie unfolded the photo reactive material and placed it over her car. It was just another piece of tech-magic inspired by her lover’s passion for illusions. This had taken her some time to get right because it needed to be primarily solar powered as well as able to reliably produce the desired images.

She changed into appropriate clothing for the job at hand and readied her gear. Settling everything into place, she turned facing her car. As she mentally activated the shroud, the material rose up assuming the rough outlines and colors of an old rusty hulk of a truck. Invisibility was hard to maintain in a changing environment, but concealment was another matter.

Turning, she set off into the waving heat of the inhospitable desert.

Area 61

September 13, 2008

Alan grinned at the excited looks his students gave him as they followed him to the hideout. He’d let them know earlier that they were going to sneak out to the clubhouse tonight. Tonight was Saturday and there wasn’t any training for tomorrow. As far as their watchers were concerned, they were all glued to the TV in the common room.

Big Mac and Ollie had gotten better at overriding the security cameras and they all had a lot to talk about after their first week here. The mysterious power drain had slowed and given them about another week according to Big Mac’s analysis. The AI also had another good piece of information for them. It had sneakily managed to use the little robots running around here as his spies. He’d seen the techs stuffing some kind of gadget into elevator 6.

They hadn’t a clue what it was except it required a hell of a lot of power and that the zoomies had packed explosives underneath to presumably blow it out the top of the shaft. Then they had sealed the bottom off and put guards around it. The interesting part was, whatever it was, it was the source of that power drain Big Mac had been monitoring.

Presumably, that box was why he and the kids had been brought down here for Doc Mac to use for guinea pigs. With it sealed up in that shaft, there no way to take a closer look. Nope if they were going to find out what was going on they were going to have find another way.

Getting everyone out, he shut the secret door behind them. His students had learned much in the week. Malik was more relaxed now that he had an outlet for all his pent up energy. He was happy being bounced around the Dojo, and just as glad to be the bouncer. Josh had also grown not only in his powers but also in maturity. The teenager had been surprised to learn his own physical strength and stamina were greater now.

Amanda had been unwilling at first to use her powers, but now with a little prompting by her teammates had grown more comfortable with them. She still had a long way to go, but it was a start. Malak was learning things about her magnetic powers like throwing lightning as well as projecting a protective screen not just for her, but for her friends as well.

Entering the clubhouse, Lizzie seeing Ollie jumped up into the air towards him giggling, “Ollie, I can fly!”

The small alien sent back to the happy child floating in the air beside him, “Yes. I see!”

Alan was content seeing how much the six year old had adapted to their unusual situation. After she’d talked to him that night she’d been able to get over some of her sadness. Lizzie had also learned how to use her energy field to fly and how to better control her strength.

They were also becoming friends just as he and The Rocketeers had many years ago. Josh and Malik were doing that male bonding thing, while the girls Amanda and Malak were already close. Lizzie had quickly become everyone’s little sister and their mascot.

That left Billy. He was still struggling with his feelings and desires. The teenager really needed someone to talk to, but that was a problem. Courtney Hathaway was a psychiatrist, but from what Ollie was telling him if he knew what her plans were for the kid, he would have to hurt her, bad.

That left him or Ollie. His friend the alien was one of the wisest people he knew, but the whole human gender sexuality thing was a mystery to him. That left Alan and he feared that he would have to reveal secrets that he would rather keep. Besides that, Billy was doing fairly well developing his elastic ability even if he was keeping his mimic talent under wraps.

As for the other kids, Billy hadn’t developed any close friends yet, but had an obvious crush on Malak. Alan was pleased that she hadn’t taken his shyness towards her the wrong way, and was simply ignoring it for now. Amanda had surprised him by acting as a moderator with Malak reminding her how it felt to be the odd kid out.

Lizzie had begun spending almost as much time with Billy as with the older girls. That puzzled the others a little but not Alan. Younger children and animals always knew, it seemed.

For that matter, it was still happening. Dr. Hathaway was wondering why Lizzie, and the others were coming to him for comfort and not her. After all, it was traditionally the women that children came to for such things. He couldn’t deny that his maternal side didn’t enjoy the experience, however it was a flaw in his long held deception.

Moreover, as much Dr. Hathaway might have been out maneuvered earlier she was no one’s fool. She was beginning to notice the kids weren’t reacting the way she wanted. They’d all known Ollie’s little mental mirror trick would only work for just so long. The dear Doctor would begin looking for answers and sooner or later, she would find them. This damn pit acted like a hothouse forcing all of them together in almost constant contact. Tonight was the one night she took away to decompress, but there was no such outlet for him.

Eventually, his true self would begin to show, and sharp-eyed very smart people like Dr. Hathaway and Doc Mac would see it. If that wasn’t enough stress for him, they now had only two weeks before D-Day.

Shaking his head, he pushed his worries aside and tried to enjoy the laughter and happiness as his students chattered away, free of fears of being overheard. Looking at the round table that dominated the room it gave him bittersweet feelings like always. That carved table stood for some lofty ideals but also for mutual respect and friendship.

Picking up the gravel his brother Gus had purloined long ago, Captain Vroom called the Order of the Rocketeer Round Table to order.

Chapter Twenty-three

September 15, 2008

ETWF: minus 17

Outside of Tonopah NV

Looking out the SUV’s window at the desolation, Philippe Imbert sighed. It had been three days since his agents had lost Margaret Carson. More certain than ever, he knew she was one of the two he had sought for so long. The mechanical difficulty the two agents had suffered while clever was just too convenient for it to be happenstance.

He knew many found the desert landscape stunning, but even as he could appreciate its stark contrasts, he could not call it beautiful. The abandoned ranch with its abandoned rusting truck out front spoke of man’s endless conflict with nature. This area was where they had lost their quarry’s trail.

Margaret Carson must have stashed her car somewhere nearby, but searches had turned up nothing. Considering how tricky they were, it could be right under their very noses. He had hoped for some flash of insight like that in Alan Glenn’s garden, but alas nothing.

Philippe knew Area 61 bordered this old ranch, and that their security was formidable. The web of sensors and detection devises made movement of anything larger than a coyote impossible because of responding security police.

And it was all useless against the foe they faced. Expecting such to stop someone who commanded machines as the Tech-Witch did was sheer foolishness. Still for his own peace of mind, he had to imagine that breaking into a place as heavily guarded, as Area 61 would prove challenging for even such as she.

At least their information search regarding Valentina Savitskaya had been more successful. He turned his attention back to Andrea’s brief. With the Directors refusal to provide more support with even a helicopter, it took forever to get anywhere because of the vast area they had to cover. He had taken to doing much of his day-to-day work while moving.

“Much of the information about their secret mutant facilities was kept on paper to keep our inspection teams from finding them. When Kazakhstan split from the USSR, and our staff was overwhelmed trying to deal with registering thousands of new mutants, many of those records were lost, stolen, or destroyed.”

“There is an addendum that she may have lied about her age in the confusion. She might be 10 years older, but it is hard to be sure with the longevity many mutants share. With so many of them going rogue, one young woman lying about her age didn’t brother anyone.” His assistant reported.

The inspector nodded, “Indeed. Many went to work for the emerging Russian Mafia instead of like their American counterparts forming their own criminal enterprises. That’s not to say there still aren’t more virtual supra-Warlords in that part of the world than we would like.”

Andrea flicked her laptop screen to the next page. “Mutant-stan.”

Philippe shook his head in disagreement. “Zolotoye-Yablochko is an entirely different situation. It was one of those secret cities you just mentioned. Mutant-stan was the popular name coined by the press. It is not accurate. It is a separate country, but is completely surrounded by Kazakhstan. Its autonomy was a tactic to have the supra-humans living there out from under the ban of serving in the military.

They realized that to declare independence would simply make them a target so they have strong mutual protection agreements with Kazakhstan. Unlike Professor Mortis’s little kingdom of Haemus in the Balkans they haven’t convinced the rest of the world that they would be willing to blow up everyone if they’re invaded.”

He sighed, “I suppose there is some advantage of being a paranoid schizophrenic. A competent brilliant paranoid schizophrenic,” the inspector amended speaking of Professor Mortis.

“Between Haemus and Zolotoye-Yablochko, they have the greatest concentration of ULTIMATE resources pre-positioned against them. Haemus is dead center where, if a weapon of mass destruction did go off, it would cause untold misery. Zolotoye-Yablochko never signed the ULTIMATE accords, and with those mutual protection treaties in place, attacking them would be the same as declaring war on Kazakhstan. Of course military action in any country that has not signed the accords violates our charter. Despite that, warmongers amongst us that argue Zolotoye-Yablochko is nothing, but a refuge for criminals.”

Andrea shook her head smiling, “No sir, you misunderstand. Valentina Savitskaya is from Almaty 3, the city that became Zolotoye-Yablochko. Her family is still there. It appears to be quite large. Her parents are still living, and she has 12 brothers and sisters. She was number seven. Some of them could be adopted given the practice was encouraged during the early years of the city in the mid 1970’s.”

Meeting her mentor’s eyes she said, “Gregor and Ludmila Savitskiy were both entertainers and performers in one of the traveling state circuses. They were billed as illusionists.”

She watched his eyebrows rise, and continued. “After their oldest child Peter was discovered to be a mutant they moved the entire family to Almaty 3 rather than split up. They began a school teaching dance, acrobatics, and gymnastics as well as putting on recitals and shows. It was here that we found dates that didn’t match up which is what made us think she lied about her age.”

Philippe had to smile. “If we arrested every woman who’d ever lied about her age we would have no time to look for criminals. However, it is very interesting her family were stage magicians. It provides background into the way she thinks.”

“I know our representatives aren’t welcome there, but Zolotoye-Yablochko might be a good place to look for all of our missing suspects. Finding them would help prove a link between our two amazons and Zolotoye-Yablochko.” He said making a quick note.

Andrea nodded. “I’ll put in the request, but I understand that they consider mutants fleeing such charges as political refugees. As such they keep their names secret and even provide new identities to protect their families from reprisals.”

She hesitated before asking, “Sir is that something they really need to fear from us? I know the law has to be enforced, and mutants because of their powers are special cases. However, do their families need to be afraid of us?”

Looking up from his notes the inspector replied, “We’ve talked some about this before. In the beginning, our organization, was here to prevent national governments from using these supra-humans against each other. In a way we were protecting these unusual people from being exploited, but also to keep the criminals amongst them from taking advantage of the world’s majority which had no powers at all.”

“Obviously that has changed as some from that majority have become fearful of these special peoples and seek to control them. So many of them have let their fears turn them into fanatics. ULTIMATE has changed as more and more of its personnel come from them.”

“I would like to think that no, these refugees families have nothing to fear. However, fanatics are not rational. So, I’m sad to say that they might be right to take such precautions.” He paused seeing her troubled expression.

“There is still hope. Not everyone here sees all mutants as the enemy, yet. If the fanatics had completely taken over, open-minded agents like you would never have made it though the selection process. Soon I’ll be enjoying my retirement sipping wine at a picturesque chateau in France, but your task if you don’t grow jaded or give up in frustration will be to take our agency back from these warmongers.”

He brought his hands together signaling an end to that tropic and asked, “Do we have any information on the current activities of Ms. Savitskaya’s extended family?”

Referring to her laptop again, she gave him the unpleasant news. “Peter, her eldest brother, is a Colonel in their Army. He is one of their top dozen officers given its small size. We have little official testing data on him because he along with his files disappeared during the USSR’s breakup. He didn’t reappear until Zolotoye-Yablochko became an independent nation.”

Philippe felt an uncomfortable lump in his stomach as she spoke. He was very much afraid he knew of who this Peter was going to turn out to be. Early in the formation of the new country, a part of Kazakhstan’s army rebelled and tried to invade the breakaway republic. Tried was the right word. The short-lived rebellion was crushed so quickly that it was over before most knew it had even begun. One of the reasons for that was a man who had astonishingly strong powers of Telekinesis. He disabled tank column after tank column by simply picking up the multi-ton machines and turning them over onto their backs.

“Peter the Great,” Andrea read. “Was the name given to him by his troops and it has become his official code name. We have an exhaustive file on him, but little real data. Beyond any doubt, he is one of the most powerful telekinesis talents on the planet. Because he is so high profile, more information is limited. It was only in a cross search I found out about her being his sister by matching the ages and dates.”

The Frenchman raised his eyebrows asking, “So no one else knows of this?”

She closed her laptop replying, “No sir, just us. He didn’t become a person of interest until after she’d already immigrated. Their intelligence service did a good job of limiting knowledge of his family to the public, but I found it only because I back-tracked her data trail and not his. It was only by comparing the two I found their relationship.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he made his decision. “For now let’s keep this quiet. I do not know if this would make the directors change their minds or not, but to blackmail another with safety of their family. That leaves a foul taste in my mouth that I know the others that we were just discussing would leap at. I leave it to you to find the best way to secure that data.”

He watched her as she thought for a moment and then watched as she opened her computer and deleted the information. The inspector might be old but he knew those zealots within the department did not trust his devotion to justice. It had occurred to him that Andrea might have been assigned to keep an eye on him. Perhaps she was a talented enough actress to have kept him fooled, but he thought not.

Turning his attention back to the desert, he wondered what Alan Glenn was doing right now? Where was Margaret Carson? Had she broken the security of one of the great fortresses of the age? He wondered if he would ever know.

Chapter 24

Area 61

Alan felt good all things considered. His history class earlier in the day had gone well as had his other class the kids had taken to calling Powers 101. Maxi-Badd may be effective at making his students stretch their powers, but for their other skills, it was up to the 35 or so years of training he had.

Malik was a naturally competitive kid that needed a good workout the way a racehorse needed to run. Alan had solved part of his problem by having the youth show Lizzie the basics. He could survive her accidental overenthusiastic responses, and it served to work off energy for both of them. That left Malak, his sister, to help with the others. Since she, Amanda, Josh, and Billy, had only moderate increases in strength and toughness it worked out well.

His workout with Malik had been satisfying today. They were both able to have a good hard workout as the younger boy learned how to control his powers. In effect he was carbon fiber reinforced. It made him damn hard to hurt, and his stronger muscle fibers made him far stronger than he looked. Then had come the next surprise of the day that Alan had for them.

All the guys had looked betrayed when Alan had revealed they were all taking dancing lessons. Okay he didn’t included Billy with them. He’d looked nervous afraid someone would figure out he wanted to dance. He’d paired him up with Malak while putting Josh and Amanda together.

Malik, he’d bouncing between both his sister and Amanda, but primarily he wanted to get him to get involved in the acrobatic like break dance. The kid was fast, but with his much greater strength to weight ratio he could be a lot more agile. The acrobatic dance would help with that and maybe he could sneak in some gymnastics in too. Doing the iron cross on the rings was always impressive and a good draw to newcomers.

Courtney Hathaway was the official dance instructor, but she had been open to his suggestions. They both knew the dancing was just to help the kids learn coordination and how to work closely with someone else.

As for Lizzie, she’d been ecstatic taking the ballet lessons, but even she’d been ready to call it day after the class was over.

Finishing cleaning up, he was ready for some food. Walking into the cafeteria, he saw nothing but long faces. Taking a tray and walking down the chow line he soon saw why. Alan had to keep from wincing every time one of the cooks dumped more unappetizing gunk on his plate. By the time he’d sat down his face was just as long as theirs was.

The kids were all just kind of poking at their food, which didn’t look any better than his did. A couple of them had eaten the fresh fruit provided but that wasn’t enough to make a meal for a pack of hungry kids. You would think that Doc would’ve learned from last time that it didn’t matter how good for you it was if it looked and tasted like crap. Of course, this could just be another of Doc Mac’s tests, which it probably was.

Back in the day, The Rocketeers had figured out how to escape for brief times. They’d known going back to their families was a lost cause, but there’d been an old fashioned hamburger stand named Dad’s that’d really hit the spot for a bunch of staving teenagers. It became a test and a game for them to solve the puzzle with some good ole American junk food as their reward. More to the point, Alan had found out by a comment to one of their zoomie guards that Dad’s was not only still there, but the food was just as good.

Not able to repress his grin he asked the table, “How would you guys like to get some real food?”

As one, they turned and looked at him. Alan imagined a pack of staving wolves would look less ferocious.

“Dump this stuff, and meet me by the restricted area. Be ready for a ride.” He told them looking pointedly at the tutu Lizzie was still wearing. “Food or tutu, which is it?”

She looked down at her pink dancewear, and hurried out at a run. Alright then, food it is. Amanda grabbed Lizzie’s tray as the rest reached the same decision. Watching them leave, he reached mentally out to his friend. “Ollie? You there old buddy?”

Instantly he was answered. “Yes, Alan I’m here. Is there some kind of problem?”

He was working out in his head how soon Doc or Lying-to-Me-Laramie would be notified something was up. Hathaway was likely still in the shower, and so would be the slowest to respond. Of them, only Doc and the General would know what he intended.

“No problem Ollie, just an offer. How would you like to take the buggy out for spin out to Dad’s and back?” Alan sent.

Ollie’s reply was full of longing. “It has been many years since I last enjoyed a strawberry shake, but Alan is this wise? I am certain that we can avoid getting caught, but Doctor McClellan and General Laramie will be upset at you.”

Getting up he emptied his tray while looking at his watch. Walking swiftly he missed the squad of zoomie cops storming into the cafeteria. “That’s a good thing Ollie. Hathaway is catching on that her mind control trick isn’t working on the kids. I want their attention on me. Moreover, this is just the thing to help bond them together. You know the old primitive instinct of sharing food you had to go out and run down.”

The little alien’s remark was full of humor, “You humans are a strange species, but it is sad that my people couldn’t put aside their greed for your blue world. There is much your people could have taught mine.”

Alan ducked though the gym coming out the back of the medical block. He knew now it was the General who’d been told. Doc would’ve been waiting at the hanger doors for him. Only Laramie would try old-fashioned brute force. “So you’ll meet us on board?”

Ollie sent back, “But of course. I hope you remembered your wallet my friend for you’re buying!”

He got to the intersection of the hallway and saw his students waiting. With a quick gesture, he called them over. They had maybe a few minutes before security vectored in on him using the cameras.

“This way.” he called leading them to an access door. It wasn’t normally guarded because it didn’t go anywhere. The Hanger wasn’t normally guarded either relying on the vault like locks to keep out trespassers. However, the hanger had another entrance that this access way did lead to and although the General undoubtedly sent zoomies to the front, he was betting the back had been forgotten.

His grin got even larger as they reached the unguarded door. It still had the sophisticated cipher lock, but that wasn’t a problem. Opening his sight, he could feel the last two men to use this door. Seeing deeper he saw the ten key code they’d used. Running over the combinations in his head it took an act of will not to shake his head. It seemed that some things really don’t change. Now to use a little misdirection.

Alan heard their moans as they saw the keypad. He silenced them by raising his hand. “Do either of you girls have anything that sprays like perfume or hairspray?”

Amanda and Malak looked at each other and handed him a small aerosol bottle of breath-fresher.

Spray the pad, he said, “The liquid should bead up on the keys used because of the oils on the fingers.”

All the kids were clustered around trying to see as sure enough the trick worked.

Billy saw part of the solution. “Hey it’s the odd numbers except for that 2.”

Alan decided to give them a little help, “Remember what I’ve said about tests. This is The Rocketeers’ hanger.

Josh got another suggesting, “Could be the Prime numbers, divisible only by one and itself.”

Amanda got the rest of it. “Descending order like a countdown. The first ten primes counting backwards.”

Quickly he punched in the keys with a flourish saying, “See nothing to it.”

Alan could hear the kids grasping as they saw their ride.

Billy awed breathed out, “It’s the Rocket!”

Malak’s just as wide-eyed corrected him. “That’s a flying saucer.”

“No, I don’t mean a rocket, The Rocket. Look, you can see the name as part of the red racing strips. It was The Rocketeer’s transport.

Alan couldn’t help himself from bouncing on the toes of his feet looking at the bright silver saucer. It was really only the rebuilt remains of the spaceship Ollie had come to Earth in.

Old Big Feet Lafitte had another one of his cows when he’d found how they’d repainted their Buggy with racing stripes. The design for once was all Alan’s and he was proud that he’d been able to talk Alice and Jeff out the flame job they wanted on it. Not that Big Feet appreciated the difference.

Ollie called from within, “If you still want to go, you better hurry. They are at the door.”

As one, they all clambered on board. Alan was busy seating the kids as they gawked at the interior, and that Ollie was already seated in the pilot’s bubble. The warning klaxons started their cry amid the flashing yellow lights as the saucer lurched on its way to the launch rail.

Keeping his feet, Alan doubled checked everyone’s harness before vaulting to his own seat. He’d just made it as a solid thump told him they had engaged the rail. The Rocket started tilting upwards amid the new passengers startled exclamations.

Alan yelled out over them all, “Everyone hold on! We’re beginning the countdown. I’ve got to warn you, Ollie likes to drive fast.”

He leaned over clicking a button letting them listen to the speaker outside. “Ten. Nine. Glenn! Seven. You stand down! Three. You hear me! Zero, Ignition!

Alan sent back hurriedly, “Hey! We’ll be right back! I’ll bring you back a ‘Big Daddy and some fries!” Right before they were kicked hard upwards!

Ollie ecstatically emitted, “Yah Hoo!!!”

He just couldn’t resist adding a hardy, “Yee Hah!” to his joyful friend’s cry.

With a wide grin he asked, “So what do you think of the ride so far?”

He was answered with a chorus that ranged from “Can we do that again?” to shocked “whoa’s”

The teacher in him decided it was time for a lesson. “Actually nearly all of Earth’s spacecraft are just like this one. In that invasion during 1996, there were a lot of saucers captured. Wanting people to forget just how close we came to losing that one, they did a little bodywork and slapped on some paint. Suddenly The Space Age was finally really here.”

“The only difference is the old girl here was the first after being shot down over Roswell. She wasn’t the only one either. I can’t blame the Gray’s too much about being upset at us, but Ollie tells me they were just looking for an excuse to invade us anyways. Isn’t that right, Ollie?”

For an answer, the Grey rolled their craft as he took them down in a steep dive. “That’s correct Alan. The universe is a big place and there are other life bearing worlds. However there are life bearing worlds and then there’s the Earth. Because of Earth’s unique circumstances, such as your large single moon that vigorously stirred the primordal soup when this planet was young, you have an unusually healthy biological diversity. Or maybe I should say use to.”

“My people the Grays as you call them covet such worlds. They were going to invade regardless. Although my parents were scientists and not of the soldier cast they too desired this planet. As for myself, I was a child when I arrived, but grew to adulthood here. I can see the advantages of both Gray and Human cultures.”

Alan held on as Ollie hunched over his controls zooming around obstacles. It never failed to amaze him that the normally calm little guy turned into a maniac behind the controls of a vehicle.

“Mr. Glenn,” asked Malak. “If we didn’t have cheap space travel till 1996 how did the moonbase get built?”

He’d been rubbing his hands together in glee if he’d hadn’t been holding for dear life. A historian always loved to talk about their specialty. “You have two guys to thank for that, the Doctor Ferocious Foundation, and Professor Quester.”

“In the 70’s when NASA was still convinced their space shuttle was the way to go, they financed their own projects. I’m not going to talk about all the red tape they had to cut though. That is a story in and of itself. They did get their space station up and from there back to the moon. Of course when Helium 3 up there was discovered to be the perfect fuel for Fusion power, industrial operations made both those guys multi-billionaires.”

“Going back to these saucers for a moment, no one has been able to make a copy of the engines these babies use that is practical for mass production. One off and one of a kind, certainly, but nothing that would justify the cost. For that matter no one has been able to get the performance out of this buggy like Ollie can.”

“For our first couple missions, a zoomie pilot was in the bubble.” He said pointing at the raised seat Ollie was in, placing him where he could see out the Plexiglas dome.

“When they found out during one of our excursions,” Alan explained making ditto marks with his fingers, “That we could apparently fly this thing better than any zoomie they let us go alone, happy to monitor us from their comfortable seats in mission control. From then on Ollie was our pilot. He was the secret member of The Rocketeers that saved our bacon on more than one occasion.”

Ollie hung a steep left bank as they crossed over the highway leading to their destination. “I may have been of some assistance, but don’t underestimate yourself. The Rocketeers was one of a kind and I’m honored to have been associated with it.”

Deftly the Grey brought the saucer down beside the old-fashioned neon sign proclaiming Dad’s, The Best Burgers and Shakes in the Mojave!

The kids stormed down the ramp, their stomachs rumbling at the scent of the grilling food. Alan waited till they’re out of sight, and reached under one of the panels searching.

Ollie tapped him on the shoulder holding out the wad of bills that they’d always kept hidden in the Buggy for emergencies. “Looking for something?”

Sheepishly Alan held out his hand for the cash, “Yeah. You know they took my wallet.”

Activating one of the cobbled together gadgets at his belt, Ollie was covered by an image of a boy dressed in fashions thirty years old. “Come on, I hear a strawberry shake calling my name!”

Soon they were zipping back towards Area 61 at a much more leisurely pace since their pilot was busy with the largest shake Dad’s sold. Escorting them was a pair of Air Force enhanced fighter jets F-22C Predators making sure that they didn’t get lost on the way back to the stable.

Leaning over Josh quietly asked him a question that the others happily enjoying their food didn’t hear. “If it was this easy to get out of there, how come we even bothered to stop. We could’ve kept on going to Canada or any place as long as it wasn’t back in that hole!” He said with feeling.

Alan savored his chocolate malt before answering. “There are a number of reasons. One, we still have those implants and with those they can track or perhaps even incapacitate us if they want. Two. While I’m not shy about cutting into myself and ripping one of those things out of me, are you willing to do the same to Amanda or say Lizzie?

“We could find a doctor to take them out, but the things might be trapped too. So we’re putting not only our lives, but someone else’s at risk. Three. Ollie is driving and this buggy has sentimental value to him. Before you ask, he has his own reasons for hiding out at Area 61. If you want to know, you have to ask him. I’ve tried for years to convince him to leave, but if you can do better be my guest.”

Pointing up out of the dome at the two jets on each side of them he counted, “Four. Those guys are out of Edwards Air Force Base. Trying to skedaddle out of here is going to cause these fellas to try to stop us. I don’t have a beef with them. It’s the ones giving the orders, I have a problem with and that’s important because we might have to knock them out of the sky to do it. I don’t want to be responsible for some family receiving a visit from a public affairs officer offering condolences.”

“Five. I made a point of turning this into a kind of impromptu field trip. With luck they’ll see this little trip as more of my maverick personality at work, and think I’m more or less are doing what they want me too. We’re showed our disrespect for authority, but now we’re on our way back just like good little boys and girls.”

“When we do make our break for it, they’ll think it is just another show of disrespect. With luck, before they figure out it’s something else it’ll be too late.” Holding up his malt Alan smacked his lips. “No one does these like Dad’s. One day the franchises will shut him down, so this trip was well worth it.”

The teenager shrugged unable to deny that. Leaning back in his own seat he washed down some more fries. The food was good.

Ollie however had been listening and was still curious. Sending to him alone, “Were those your only reasons Alan? After all I could have dropped you all off and made it look as if the ‘Rocket’ had returned to Area 61 empty.”

Letting the dregs melt in his mouth Alan sent back privately to his friend. “Yes all of those reasons are valid. Yeah, you can drop us off, but that don’t change the problem with the implants. I don’t doubt for a moment that they are much nastier propositions than the one I dug out of myself thirty years ago.”

“Besides I’m still hoping I can talk you into leaving this joint. I know your reasons, and I do respect them. It’s just that you are perhaps the only Gray in the universe that really understands us. I’m not so much a fool as to think that one little planetoid sized spaceship was the only one your people had. They are going to come back, and next time they won’t be so careless with their computer and data security! If anyone has any chance at all of stopping the next invasion before it happens, it‘s you.”

Ollie’s mental voice was just a little disproving. This was an old issue between them. “Alan you know my reasons. The circumstances behind them hasn‘t changed. I’m staying where I am.”

The human replied, “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck figuring a way past the vault security?”

Bringing the ‘Rocket’ into a hover, Ollie sat the ship down on the landing pad blinking its approach lights waiting their return. “No more than you have. I’m afraid getting into the vaults is a good deal harder than knowing the prime numbers.”

A slight jerk was the only indication of when the pad elevator started moving the silver and red racing striped saucer back to its underground hanger.

Alan took a deep breath before continuing. “Ollie believe or not, getting in isn’t the deal breaker. The difficult part is getting back out. Even if we did dodge security, and got back to the hanger bay, this buggy isn’t set up for cargo. We couldn’t get everything out. If we try and make any modifications so we could, the boys in blue would be sure to notice.”

“The only other way out is the freight elevator and that would mean fighting our way out regardless if we do it by land or air. Our best chance is by using trickery, but the whole place is tightly monitored except for a few pigeonholes like the clubhouse and your workshop. That makes the usual illusionist methods a real bitch.” The ex-hero explained.
The Grey with sad humor pointed out, “So you have thought about my problem.”

Alan sent the warmth he felt for his friend. “Well, maybe a little.”

A solid bump signaled their elevator ride was over. Alan herded everyone out, their arms still full of bags and cups. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Ollie step into the small transporter and disappear. My, wouldn’t the brass love to know that they had one of the sci-fi gadgets all along but didn’t even know it.

Picking up the big cardboard cup-holder and the bulging sack of burgers and fries, he went out to face the music. He was pretty sure he’d timed this excursion about right, but the next couple days would tell.

“All right I’ve got a vanilla, a strawberry and two chocolate shakes.” He announced jauntily strolling down the ramp as the quartet of grim faced zoomie cops advanced towards him.

To be continued.

The adventure continues!

Chapter 24

Outside of Area 61

The camouflaged figure recorded precisely when and where she first saw the silvery craft zoom upwards and head towards civilization. Moving rapidly, and nearly invisible in her reactive camouflage, she had almost reached her objective when the shining craft returned, with friends. The two military jets were making very sure the saucer went back home. Dialing up the magnification on her goggles, she could clearly see the red racing striped framed name on the side, Rocket!

Val, you minx! She didn’t doubt for an instant that her partner had arranged this little air show just for her. Smothering a laugh she had no time for, she carefully watched the escorting jets, their job done, peel off for home. Maggie marked exactly the elevator’s location and took note of the sensors and security. It had taken her almost a week to work her way through the web of security. However, the only entrances were heavily guarded not just by electronics, but by highly competent soldiers and dogs. It was a near perfect example of layered security.

None of that was insurmountable, but along with the constant patrols over the area, it was taking a toll on her. The good news was this saucer silo’s security looked to be more automated than the other entrances, all the better for her to work her special talents upon it.

She backed off, finding a more or less comfortable place to wait for darkness to fall. Before closely checking out this gift of knowledge from her lover; she wanted every possible advantage. Configuring a sensor to alert her if trouble approached, she closed her eyes. Getting inside was just the beginning. The real task was still unknown, hidden behind all of this paranoid security.

She would get through all of this, and she would find Val. But my that girl had some ‘esplaning to do!

Area 61

Dr. Courtney Hathaway crossed her arms across her chest as she watched Alan Glenn sitting cross-legged in the detention cell. She’d been showering, following an exhausting dance class. Courtney knew she was in good condition, her mutation assured that, but keeping up with six enhanced children was a superhuman job. No, she corrected herself, seven. Alan Glenn definitely had to be added to that number.

His working with them had yielded wonderful results. The candidates were ahead of schedule, and would soon begin teamwork exercises. He had adjusted to the self-paced scholastic program, and performed the minor miracle of keeping his students interested and involved in their classes.

Yet here he sat, responsible for a major security breach. He actually had the gall to claim it as an unscheduled field trip due to a gastronomical emergency. She knew that the children’s diet was being carefully moderated to meet their special needs. Trying to make some of that look and taste appetizing was a challenge that even the best chefs couldn’t overcome.

Which was why she ate from the officer’s cafeteria, but stubbornly Alan Glenn insisted on sharing the kids’ facility. A fact that made security happier, but better food was one of the things they’d hoped to insure his cooperation.

He’d ignored her attempts to flirt with him or manipulate his masculine ego. She was starting to wonder if he was gay despite his stereotypical macho guy front. The whole racing bad boy attitude didn’t match up with his actions.

All the children went to him. Even the girls for problems that were well out of the province for any male. Courtney had to admit that she’d made an enormous mistake from the very first day dealing with this man. Even worse, she suspected that somehow he’d taught the children to resist her mental control.

In her opinion, despite that, they were still viable subjects for the program. She wished she could omit the ‘so far,’ but she couldn’t. For one of the few times since her powers had developed she was feeling helpless and unsure of what to do. Even those times she’d run into those who she couldn’t mentally read, she could control everyone else around them, giving her a measure of second handed domination.

Courtney stiffened as Dr. McClellan came up beside her. She had an intense dislike of failing and a part of her knew she was going to hear about her shortcomings.

Instead, the Doctor just stood there a moment watching Alan Glenn with her before speaking. “When he was young and still had his powers, he used to have something he called slow time. To everyone else he may have been moving in a blur, but not to him. He was moving normally and it was us who’d slowed.”

“Once he spent almost two days in detention in slow time. The next time we tried to detain him; he was out almost before the guards could turn around to leave. During those two days, he had spent almost a month and half of subjective time studying how to get out. Then he waited for the next time to escape.”

Chuckling he shook his balding head. “It was a complete waste of time to give him a timed test. Most people see him flashing by and think that was his power. Ridiculous! It was always because he had all the time in the world. His thought processes was also affected by his ability, giving him the precious gift of time.”

“I grew to love chess as a child, but as I aged it became harder and then almost impossible to find a stimulating opponent. Alan Glenn was one of the few who could give me such a game. Yes, his ability gave him all the time needed to consider his moves, but like them all, he was also extremely intelligent. Of all of The Rocketeers, he was my favorite.”

“His speed was so great that he could nearly break the sound barrier. He described the experience to me as trying to run upstream against a swift flowing current. The very air resisted every movement with just one careless move being all it took to sweep you off your feet.”

Lost in his memories, the old scientist sadly shook his head. “Not even he could outrun a nuclear shockwave. He was still suffering from residual radiation poisoning from the Z-Ray 9. They all were also recovering from injuries received in their fight with Leviathan. That poor, tragic creature was heading right for the center of one the largest cities in the United States.”

“John, General Lafitte, was in a state of extreme agitation. The Rocketeers had experienced setbacks before but never had they been soundly beaten like they were by that creature. Leviathan, the navy project Bruce Flag had been working on, must have been using much the same principles as my Z-Ray. He defeated six of the most powerful supra-humans on record, the incredible power of that creature!”

The scientist sighed. “I can’t imagine the awful price Dr. Flag has paid for that power, forced to wander the world searching for a cure, while hunted like some monster from the cinemas. An important safety tip Ms. Hathaway. If you’re going to experiment on yourself, make absolutely certain that it’s going to work the first time!”

“But I deviate from my point. John, all of us, was well aware that we’d been sending children out into harm’s way. It was a matter of the good of the many versus the needs of a few. Then suddenly not only were they injured and hurt, but the safety of millions in Chicago was at stake.”

He believed we simply didn’t have a choice, but to use the Z-Ray 9. I disagreed. Extensive changes had been made to the device in hopes to expand the age range of the subject it could safely be used upon. Our experience had shown us that the use of the Z-Ray on subjects more than two years after their mutation manifesting was risky in the extreme. However, it had never been tested, and I feared what might happen. To my sorrow, I was correct.

Young Joyce Sturm, Sensation, died after her exposure, and Gus, Alan’s brother, suffered a change much like Dr. Flag’s. He became a ravaging creature of pure energy in his rage over her death. When Gus exploded, the injuries put Alan into a coma that even with his phenomenal healing lasted almost a month.

When he woke, he wasn’t the same youngster. He no longer had his extraordinary abilities, and the only family he’d ever known was dead. Alan turned bitter and cynical. His one remaining friend, Jeff Fuller, Fortune, was being kept from him by bureaucrats who were terrified he would tell Alan his brother was still alive. They feared what he might do.

The Government had a huge investment in those six youngsters. When four of them died, it was as if it had lost an aircraft carrier or an entire Air Force base full of bombers. It was pandemonium here as the witch-hunt descended upon us. Everyone who survived was under suspicion, including myself. All we could do was watch as Alan was quite literally thrown out. I suspect by those same bureaucrats who were relieved he was harmless and wanted to cover-up all signs of their failure.

“He certainly got his revenge when he ran away from the family that was assigned to watch him. They were paranoid he was going to start revealing all the secrets he learned in his time here. For 14 years, he avoided every single government agency looking for him. When he did return, it was as their greatest nightmare testifying to a Senate investigation committee.

“He planned that investigation just like he did that day long ago when he broke out of there. Alan set the stage for those politicians to see great advantage for themselves by dredging up events a decade and half old. He did his very best to get me put on trial for not only the murder of Joyce Sturm but for crimes against humanity!”

“I see him there, and I know that somehow he’s back in slow time once more, working on his next move. Every means of testing I have tells me he’s nothing special. Is it because, having done it before and knowing it’s possible, that he’d reached it with training and meditation? If so he’s proved that it is indeed the man who makes the hero and not the powers he possesses.”

Courtney nodded, but could understand Alan Glenn’s stand. However without it being said, she knew Dr. Albert McClellan had walked free of all charges because he had power. Not like that being studied here at Area 61, but that which put him above the common man or even the most powerful mutant. That was what she so badly wanted.

Although the ex-teenage hero may have made her doubt herself, she knew the only real protection in the world was to be at the top. Even if she had to climb over others to get there and kick any that tried to stop her. If putting these kids in harm’s way, was what it took, then she was prepared to pay the price.

Chapter Twenty-Five

September 16, 2008

ETWF: minus 17 Days

Area 61

Alan opened his eyes as the guards opened his cell. Pretending his legs had gone to sleep he stumbled as he stood. It fit the persona of the tough guy who wasn’t as young as he used to be after spending a night in the hoosegow.

He was escorted from the detention block and they let him go on his way. Well, Laramie had dressed him down good yesterday, and it didn’t look as if anyone else wanted a turn.

Still, it’d been worth it. He’d found out that the buggy was still in good shape as well as that Ollie hadn’t let his pilot’s skills rust too badly. Not only that, but if who he thought was out there in the desert watching, he’d shown her a way in that wasn’t as obvious as the well guarded elevator shafts. Besides, Dad’s burgers really hit the spot after Doc’s special slop.

Stretching, he started whistling as he headed towards the gym. Wondering if any of those guys had ever seen the Great Escape, maybe he should scrounge up a ball and glove. Alan saw he still had enough time for his morning workout and headed to the gym.

Changing into his Gi, he had to admire the laundry service around here. Everything was always fresh and no doubt newly bugged with surveillance crap. It was surprising he’d hadn’t stopped up his toilet considering how much of that stuff he’d flushed down it. Not that he worried about it too much because Ollie and Big Mac were well able to protect the clubhouse's location as well as their other secrets.

He was taken aback to find someone else in the gym at this hour. The zoomies had their own facilities topside, and everyone else was just getting up. That suited him fine. It was nice having the place to himself.

Maxi-Badd was there with his keepers. The big con was working out using the bags. Alan seemed to remember the big guy boxed some before mutating. He had used boxing moves in their battles so he guessed it made sense. Watching him move, Alan could see just how much power he was using. It was a good thing everything in this gym was built to take just about anything anyone could dish out.

The two zoomies stiffened as he came in but he could tell one of them had been heckling Maxi. Most of the guards down here were fairly professional, but every now and then, you ran across someone who wasn’t. Alan wondered if it was by chance or just another one of Doc’s tests. If so, it was important to bear in mind that Maxi might be another victim of Doc’s too.

“Hey Maxi, What’s up?” Alan greeted.

Finishing the series of blows before he looked over, the big guy gave a crooked grin. “They told me I could come here because no one else was about. Ya’ going to make me leave?” he said, just confrontational enough to make his keepers check for their remotes to his implants.

Alan kept an eye on bad cop and said, “Nope. Work out to your heart’s contentment. I was a bad boy yesterday, and someone is letting me know it. I would just as soon not give them the pleasure if you know what I mean. I’m just going to do a little Tai Chi over in the corner to warm up this morning.”

The big con grunted, throwing a blow that made the steel cables holding the bag hum like violin string. “I can dig that, Squirt.” Inclining his head upwards, he said. “With that low gravity crap on the moon, that was about all the exercising ya’ could do unless strapped down on one of the weight machines. Mind if join you?”

Alan raised a brow, but nodded. “No problem.”

There was a couple of rough spots in Maxi’s routine because the low gravity he’d been in for so long had let him develop some bad habits. To Alan’s surprise, he just nodded and accepted the gentle correction. All in all, it was a pleasant session.

Paying attention to the bad cop, Alan wasn’t too happy at his attitude. He sent in a little note to the man's supervisor about how ill advised it was to heckle someone like Maxi. He might have mellowed out some, but the man had a violent past. You just didn’t play with fire with someone like him.

The rest of the day went pretty well too. Everyone was getting used to the routine and settling down. The self-paced academic classes was challenging because of all the different grade levels. Lizzie was in the first, while Josh was in eleventh as a junior. In effect, he was tutoring them all with the computers for help rather than the other way around.

At least he only had the history and world geography side of the house, leaving Dr. Hathaway with the math and English. As much as he didn’t like her or her methods, he had to admit she was competent and intelligent. Perhaps, if she could learn a little compassion, and put aside her selfishness, she could reclaim her humanity. As far as he was concerned, for the moment she was the enemy besides being a gold plated witch.

His powers 101 class went smoothly. It might have been his imagination but Maxi and his clones seemed less on edge. If getting a good workout in the morning helped, Alan was all for it happening every morning. Malak and Lizzie were getting good enough with their flying thing that they needed more space to practice. For that matter, Amanda and Billy could use the extra room too. Her weather powers needed some elbowroom to really stretch themselves, and it would do a world of good for Billy too. Just another detail for him to attend to.

Considering the way the day had begun, Alan was quite pleased. On another note, Saul and his clones were sinking into their “Oh Gawd, I’m going to die” post-exercise depression. One by one the kid’s doubles were led away to be examined by Doc.

As much as Saul was anything but his friend, Alan wished he could’ve warned him about Laramie and his promises. He was certain that the Air Force officer had no intentions at all of releasing the convict, which meant all the mental pain and anguish all this was putting Saul through was for nothing.

Alan was certain that by anyone’s standards, Saul Simpson was about as insane as they came. You would think that with his vulnerability to the mental powers stuff, a practitioner could’ve cured him. Thing was, while you could make him dance a waltz, you couldn’t get him to like it. His healing talent just treated the imposed commands as another injury and made the altered neural pathways go away.

The old murderer was going to be a problem for someone 'til the day he died and that could be a very long time given his mutation. The ACLU had declared most of the ways that would kill Maxi-Badd were cruel and inhumane. Alan believed that as dangerous as Saul was it was inhumane to keep him alive when it’d been proven he was ill and that there wasn’t a cure. For that matter, Alan wondered if even the cortex bomb Saul had between his ears would permanently put him down. After all, back in the bad old days Gus, Capt. Blazzar, had blown a hole through Max’s chest big enough you could read the morning paper though it, but Maxi-Badd had regenerated even from that.

Just then a nagging feeling that’d been with Alan the last few hours started itching with a vengeance. Jeff, Fortune, used to call it ‘That Bad Moon Arising’ feeling. Not letting his alarm show, he looked about for the cause of the impeding trouble even as it built up to explosive intensity.

Saul was still looking mournful as a pair of Zoomie cops were leading Lizzie’s clone off to the lab while Dr. Hathaway was looking on. Opening his senses Alan searched for the oncoming train wreck he knew was moments away. When his Luck was wailing this loud just about all anyone could do was duck and cover.

As soon as he heard the man speak, Alan recognized the guard from earlier as the same one from this morning that was harassing Maxi-Badd.

“Come on Maxi-Pad. It’s time for your appointment with your gynecologist and the stirrups,” jeered the cop.

Alan hyped senses could smell how afraid the Maxi-Lizzie clone was of her impeding derezzing. Fear and anger overwhelmed her as she spun around. With a powerful shove, she sent the smart mouthed guard flying across the gym like rock from a slingshot. With unintended accuracy the pin wheeling cop struck Hathaway, sending both sprawling as if struck by a truck.

A split-second stood still as everyone was in shock by what happened. In a fury, time cut loose as Maxi-Lizzie whipped about and flew like a bullet for the exit. Instantly, Saul Simpson laced his hands above his head as he dropped to his knees even as both of his handlers grabbed frantically for their cortex bomb remotes.

“Ollie!” Alan sent to his friend. “One of Maxi-Badd’s clones has blown a fuse and ran for it. A damn smart-ass said the wrong thing at the wrong time. She’s just upset, so far.”

The little alien gray responded, “I understand Alan, and I see that it is a clone of Lizzie. If she causes too much damage before she is restrained, not only will Big Mac surveillance of the complex be hindered, my security could be at stake from the repair crews. Additionally, if I mentally interfere, Dr. Hathaway could find traces of my efforts, which could cause her to ask unwanted questions.”

“Oh Great Ollie! Just what I needed to hear!” Alan replied. Jeff had a saying for this too. “When it rains, it pours, and pours till you need a boat.”

Josh without even thinking faded out of sight before that Air-dale cop and Hathaway had even rolled to a stop, still bouncing on the gym floor. When in a rush of air Lizzie’s clone took off, he sprinted off after her.

He wasn’t even close to being as fast as Mr. Glenn used to be, but being able to give the fastest runners in the world a real work out was good enough for him. In front of them, right out of Star Wars, the big doors at the gym’s entrance slammed shut!

The slim six-year-old figure he was chasing covered her head with her arms and rammed it. Josh dodged a flying piece of debris as the heavy metal exploded outward. Squinting past a hand thrown up to protect his eyes, he saw she had punched a hole clean though the blast doors. He glimpsed her disappearing into the hallway beyond.

Josh took a running leap through the ragged dimpled hole she’d punched though the door. Okay, maybe all that dancing stuff does have a purpose, he thought, as he landed lightly on his feet. Another thunderous crash let him know which way to go, as he ran as fast as he could.

With a bit more confidence, he took the next sundered doorway like a hurdler. The pair of guards lying on the other side almost tripped him up, but after a not so graceful stumble, he kept on running. A hurried glance behind him assured him that the Air-dales were still alive, just concussed by being too close to the sundered doorway. Couldn’t happen to a nicer group of guys.

Now that he’d a little time to think, he realized he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he caught up with her. Josh had been practicing with doing other things with his powers. Maybe he could just slow her up a little.

He got his chance as he cleared the last corner. Another pair of Air-dales were having their weapons turned into pretzels. Oh, Crap! It didn’t take a genius to figure out the boys in blue were next in line. Concentrating, he sent at the pint-sized hurricane, ‘See nothing!’

Josh figured he must’ve faded back into sight as the two guys stared at him. That was fine as long as she couldn’t see to hurt them. Trying to keep her blind, he waved at them to run. Part of him was amazed when they did just that. Getting over the fact, that those two represented The Man who’d thrown him into detention so many times, was a little hard.

However now it was just him and a supra-powered kid with the mind of a mass murderer. Josh was beginning to regret bullying Bill into telling him the whole story. He couldn’t help but breathe a little easier as the kid with Saul Simpson sister’s face sat down burying her face in her arms. The mixture of tortured emotions as the kid tried not to cry wasn’t something he’d soon forget.

He almost didn’t, but Josh felt he had to say something. “Hey, you calmed down?”

Lizzie-clone looked blindly around. She had a small cut on her forehead from something that somehow had gotten though that force screen of hers. “Ya’ that Josh kid with the invisa-thing right? Thought it might be ya‘.”

Josh hesitated. He’d always known that little Lizzie was no one you wanted mad at you. All the blast doors torn apart behind them made it damn clear he wouldn’t last a half second if she got her hands on him. If she went for the sound of his voice, she might just be able to do that, but something told him her temper tantrum was over.

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry about turning the lights out, but I couldn’t let you hurt those guys. I don’t much care for them either, but messing them up wouldn’t help anyone,” Josh told her.

The small forlorn figure just hung her head low. “You’re right I guess. I shouldna’ let that ass-wipe get ta’ me like that, but he doesn’t know how it feels! All my life the only defense I’ve ever had was being bigger and nastier than anyone else. I shoulda’ never let them talk me into using my Mojo again.”

“Every time I never know if I’m going ta wake up as the clone. The one who’s going ta die.” Nearly overwhelmed with emotion again, she waved her small hands at herself. “This sucks! I’m a grown man, not a schoolgirl! It ain’t right. I can’t tell ya’ how it feels, but I guess I don’t have to worry about it for long.” She gave a short bitter laugh.

Josh heard people coming up behind him. Stealing a peek, he saw a wobbly Ms. Hathaway and bunch of Air-dales. “They’re coming to get you. You’re not going to try anything are you?”

The small girl cursed, “Crap. No, I can feel that mind frakker in my head, so I don’t have a choice.” She stood up. “Ya’ know, you’re a good kid. Don’t let your Mojo frakk up your brains like I did.”

Silently they waited for the guards to reach them, unaware of a blue blur keeping watch on them both. With the pride of a teacher for a student who’d passed the hardest test of all, the blur raced off to sneak back in with the others.

Alan made it with plenty of time to spare. Thanks to the dynamic duo of Ollie and Big Mac, he was safe from the surveillance picking up his brief absence and everyone else was too shocked to really notice. He did make sure, that for once, the boys in blue caught the true villain of this piece on tape.

Josh came back under escort, but kept his small bit of heroism to himself. After a break, it was time for study hall for them to catch up on their homework since Doc had not any testing to do on them. Then came their dance classes. Alan did have to smile at Lizzie’s enthusiasm as she happily bounced around in her tutu. The other girls helped her as they worked on their own stuff while a still shaken Dr. Hathaway taught the ballroom style dance class.

Alan helped with the boys, but since Billy and Josh was working with the girls, it was mostly Malik. The Powers 101 class had helped a lot, helping the athlete work out his psychical energies, but he still needed to be challenged.

Seeing how Malik needed a little extra help building his agility, he’d set up the gymnastic rings. It’d been a long time since Alan had worked out on them, but he’d sneaked some time out to practice a little before hand. Starting a beginner’s routine, he demonstrated what the rings were all about.

The sheer strength needed for maneuvers like the iron cross was enough to get Malik interested and working out on them. He even captured everyone else’s attention for a while. Then clean up and dinner was next on the schedule.

The kids then had some free time before bed if they’d already done their homework. Tonight though, Alan had something else in mind for himself rather than watch the bland TV that’d been edited by the Air Force. He’d made up his mind about Billy’s problem while meditating in detention the night before.

The youngster was still really out sorts regarding his gender identity. Alan had seen Dr. Hathaway not so gently pushing Billy into experimenting in ways that was most inappropriate for the kid’s age.

Alan was really needing time to be her real self too, and this made it a good time to have some girl talk with Billy. With that in mind, he’d slipped the teenager a note; they were going to the clubhouse tonight. A short nap had made up for some of the sleep he would be missing.

Quietly he woke Billy. Then as the boy was coming awake Alan pulled out a pair of girl’s uniforms and under things for the two of them from Billy‘s locker. The sizes were a little small for him but within limits. Picking up the shoes, he passed them to Billy who was more or less awake now.

Looking at the Mary Janes in his hands, Billy whispered, “What are you doing and where is everyone else?”

Smiling to reassure the sleepy teen, Alan said, “We have a mission just for the two of us tonight. Ollie might come by later, but there’s a job only the two of us can do.”

The boy’s eyes got round as he tried to match the clothing his teacher held with the idea of a secret mission. Despite whatever doubts he had, when Alan lead the way to the clandestine entrance to the clubhouse, he followed.

Alan putting down his burden of clothes mentally asked his friend, “Ollie are you in your lab?”

The little alien answered him immediately, “Yes Alan I am. Do you require assistance?”

The old hero sent back, “Yes Ollie, I do. Could you and Big Mac give us some privacy in the clubhouse? I would ask him, but Billy doesn’t know about him yet and I don’t think it’s time yet he finds out.”

Alan heard the irony in Ollie’s mental voice. “Not to mention Big Mac doesn’t know about you either. It is all right. I understand how hard this is for you, but you must promise me something Alan.”

“And what would that be Ollie?” he asked back.

His oldest friend in the world asked, “Someday you must show me. I know that somehow you have achieved your most cherished desire. You are not fighting yourself anymore. No more is your heart in conflict with mind, body and soul. I understand about secrets, but someday I want to share your joy of being complete. Promise?”

Alan replied with his heart in his throat, “If things are unraveling the way I think they are, it won’t be a secret for much longer anyways. But if keeping it for a little longer can give us any kind of advantage, I’ll hold onto it for a while longer. You’ll be the first to see. I promise.”

Ollie said, “Big Mac has turned off his sensors in the clubhouse, and I will remain in my lab if you need me.”

Turning around, Alan saw Billy looking at him questioningly. “I was asking Ollie to give us some privacy while we do a dress rehearsal. You take your half of these behind the curtain over there and get changed while I’ll change over here behind this one,” he said, pointing to the makeshift changing areas he’d set up earlier.

The boy looked at the schoolgirl outfits that, no matter how you looked at it, wouldn’t fit his teacher. “Rehearsal for what?” he stammered out.

Picking up one of the dresses and sorting though the pile for a bra and panties, Alan answered, “A very important mission. Perhaps the most important one of your life.”

Looking at Billy and seeing his uncertainty he asked, “Would you feel better if I went first?”

Confused the teen nodded and Alan could feel his eyes as he walked to the purloined shower curtain turned changing room. He took a deep breath and reached inside himself. Seeking for his true self he opened his heart. Radiance bloomed forth and as it faded, a joy filled her. She was herself again!

Using a touch of slow time, she changed out of her stars on a field of blue uniform this form still wore. There were still questions she wasn’t ready to answer and the ones about Dixie Belle were among them.

Slipping on the schoolgirl’s dress, she couldn’t help feeling a little naughty. Oh, the teasing Maggie would give her, if she could see her now!

The dress was a bit short on her because that witch had been pushing Billy to experiment with rather overly feminine forms. That was what had made her decide to have this talk with Billy.

The witch saw the world in terms of those she could manipulate and those who manipulated her, users and the used. That was sad, but she was trying to push Billy into doing the same using his ability to shape change as the tool.

Having a talk with a 14 year old who was transgendered about sex was uncomfortable enough without adding other stuff she just wasn’t ready for. However since it had been taken out of her hands, she would just have to do the best she could.

Moving the curtain aside, she stepped out, aware of his incredulous expression. Curtsying, she turned a near perfect ballet Pirouette. “So Billy, how does the dress fit?”

Covering her mouth in a polite laugh, she reminded him as his face turned blue, “Breathe Billy, yes it’s still me.”

The disbelieving teen choked out, “Mr. Glenn?”

Giving another graceful curtsy, she nodded. “Yes, but the real me. Like you, I was born male, but something else was trapped inside. I was lucky enough to find a way of letting the girl, the woman, I was meant to be, out,” she said, pirouetting again.

“Have you figured out our secret mission for tonight?” she asked.

She could almost see the smoke come out of his ears as he shook his head.

“We’re going to try and discover the girl inside of you. Your turn. Now go change,” she directed, pointing at the curtain.

Picking up the clothes as if they weighed tons, he went to change. Patiently she sat waiting for him to finish, but it was simple to see that after a while he was hiding.

“Oh, Billy?” she called in after him. “Come on out. You can’t hide in there forever.”

Shyly the girl inside moved the curtain aside. Unsure of herself the teen walked out, ready to bolt at a second’s notice.

The older woman smiled, trying to not scare the girl in what she knew was a very nervous situation. She gestured for her to turn around so she could see all of her. “She’s lovely. Who is she?”

Hearing Billy’s male voice coming from this young woman wasn’t a surprise. “She’s Megan Fox. Hmmm… an actress,” the girl stuttered.

Standing up she moved gracefully to the young girl, guiding her over to the mirror. “Now you’ve shown me her, why don’t you show me you?”

The model perfect face looked up at her. “I don’t understand Mr. Glenn.”

Clasping the girl’s hands, she said softly, “As males we both enjoyed looking at women that look attractive like you are now. She is a beautiful woman, but she isn’t you. You’re a teenager who is just starting to blossom into womanhood. Could you see Miss Fox chatting with Malak and Amanda at the lunch table? Where is the teen who wants to join in with her friends? Can you show me her?”

“I don’t know Mr. Glenn. All I’ve ever done before is sorta copy pictures. I’ve never tried something like that,” the uncertain teen replied.

“Billy how did you become a girl the first time?” the older woman asked.

Blushing red the girl stammered, “I was looking at these magazines … and … and all the girls were so beautiful, and the way it made me feel looking at them…, but it wasn’t enough. I had to look like one.”

The woman nodded her understanding. “Billy that feeling came from your heart. Can you reach that feeling inside of you now? You’ve come part way, and now all you have to do is reach for her.”

Still stuttering she replied, “I don’t know Mr. Glenn. It’s hard.”

Smiling her encouragement she said, “I believe you can Billy. You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, the teen closed her eyes.

As the girl’s face began to change, the woman found it was her turn to hold her breath. A part of her had been truly concerned about what that witch Hathaway was trying to mold this youngster into. Billy was at a very impressionable age besides being a girl with something extra. She’d hoped that if she could help the girl achieve a more realistic self-image, the teen would be more immune to the witch’s manipulations.

Against all odds, she watched it happening before her eyes on the very first attempt. Sometimes she just knew when things were going to break her way, or had that proverbial bad feeling at other times when they weren’t. She was grateful for the sake of this young teenager that they had both beaten the odds this roll of the dice.

“Open your eyes honey,” she spoke softly. “You did it.”

The two of them looked at the rather cute teenager with the amazed expression revealed within the mirror.

“When it’s just us girls, please call me Val,” Valentina told Billy, hugging her.

Chapter Twenty-Six

September 17, 2008

Tonopah, NV

ETWF: Minus 15 Days

Inspector Imbert studied the information spread before him. The situation with the Air Force’s Project Chiron was stable. Alan Glenn had quietly surfaced as an instructor for the project. If the public affairs office was to be believed, teaching history, geography, and physical fitness.

The children were apparently doing well. He had, of course, found it strange that the United States military had been so forthcoming about their status. It was as if they were proclaiming 'see we have nothing to hide', when of course they did. No mention had been made about Dr. McClellan’s attachment to the project. As if one of the world’s foremost scientists being associated with the project was of no importance. So far it seemed the children were alive and well. For now, that was enough.

Margaret Carson had utterly disappeared. Her office still received correspondence from her supposedly from her hometown in North Carolina, but he knew that was nonsense. No one there had seen her, and he had not been surprised to learn her family emergency was also nonexistent. A check of her accounts revealed none of her accounts or credit cards had been touched since she lost his two agents almost two weeks ago.

Further information about Valentina Zarya Savitskaya was slowly coming in. Recalling Andrea’s latest briefing, he considered what they knew.

His assistant began, “First things first. We know now she was adopted by the Savitskiys. She was an orphan found in the aftermath of a train derailment in what is now the Caucasus country of Georgia in 1975. Reportedly, she suffered amnesia because of injuries received in the accident. Her age was estimated to be between 12 and 14 years of age. The authorities were unable to determine who she’d been with or her next of kin.

“Upon examination she was found to be unusually healthy and fit, with the exception of her injuries which healed quickly. Suspecting she might be a mutant she was placed with the Savitskiys who’d just moved to Almaty 3 because of their son Peter. “

“I still haven‘t been able to determine just how many of their 13 children were adopted. Peter the oldest and two others were definitely not adopted. How many of the other nine besides Valentina are adopted? “

“Another worrisome datum I found, after finding Peter’s identity and cross referencing it with other notable Zolotoye-Yablochko inhabitants with the known ages to the Savitskiys' children, is that the woman known as Energiya has a high probability of her being one of the children. She came to our attention during the Gray Alien Invasion. We can be reasonably certain she and Valentina isn’t the same woman since she had already moved to the US at the time of the invasion.”

Philippe looking for confirmation asked, “Did Dixie Belle make any appearances during that time?”

Andrea had answered, “Nothing documented sir, but stopping something like an alien invasion would be a little out of her league. Additionally, Energiya’s powers of flight and other powers are likely Telekinetic in nature. Neither Dixie Belle or Kali’s abilities fit the profile.”

“If you look at the summary I included, you'll see she keeps a low profile. Her only public appearances were during and just after the failed alien Gray invasion in 1996. She took out three of the alien bombardment saucers single handed, one of the very few powerful enough to do so.

Unfortunately, like Peter the Great, we have no hard data on her. Like I said before, her powers seem Telekinetic. It wouldn’t be the first time a similar talent ran in the same family, suggesting she isn’t one of the adopted ones. However, she seems to have more power but less control using her ability, unlike her brother Peter who can accurately project his power a considerable distance.

We all know how strong the alloy the Grays used for their vessels is, but credible witnesses tell of her cutting her way inside in a matter of seconds. As for how she disabled the three ships once inside, no one knows. It is of note that ZY militia forces made certain the data banks of the vessels they couldn’t recover were destroyed. After the invasion she disappeared back into obscurity, following the acceptance of an award from the UN for saving those cities.”

The inspector cleared his throat. “Yes, the infamous citizens of the world speech. I remember it. She upset a lot of UN and ULTIMATE officials with her assertions. Some of them were pressuring her to help convince Zolotoye-Yablochko to disband their mutant army and sign the ULTIMATE accords.”

“She responded that she would be willing live under the auspices of ULTIMATE’s goal of all mutants being a citizen of the world instead of any one nation when they were no longer 2nd class citizens, regarded as little more than criminals, except when some catastrophic event comes along requiring their help to save the human race.”

Andrea gave him a trying look. “Energiya then reportedly returned home to her presumably normal life. Analysts thought it was a pointed reminder that anyone attacking them would have to deal with the unknown factor of their entire civilian population being members of their militia.”

The Inspector remembered his last questions to his overworked assistant. “So this Energiya is likely a blood sister to Peter the Great. Quite the family Valentina was adopted into. Speaking of Energiya, where does our information on her abilities come from?”

Checking her notes she replied, “We have no solid information. Our agents did try to get DNA samples of all those of the Zolotoye-Yablochko delegation at the post-invasion UN ceremony, including hers. They had no success.”

“All we have is from what was observed at the ceremony, and eyewitnesses of the battles. She was seen TK’ing objects to her as well as flying while in New York. Witnesses from the three cities she saved said they saw her fly right through the bombardment-saucer's protective globe of attack craft so fast, none had time to react.”

Sitting back in the cheap hotel chair, he rested his aching back. Decisions would soon have to be made just how long he was going to keep his people out here in the desert doing nothing. Still, his instincts told him that monumental events were moving out there in the Mojave.

Thinking about Valentina and her remarkable family, his face suddenly brightened in understanding as he put the facts together. It became a frown as another thought came to him.

Was Peter the Great part of their delegation to the UN, and did Energiya name herself or was it given to her? Checking her notes, he found the answers. Bearing in mind that Peter too was the son of an illusionist, yes, he was there and in every photograph they had for her.

As for Energiya’s name, it was given by those she saved. While it is Russian for energy, it was also their name for a series of spacecraft. Watching the lone woman defending them, they said she flew up at the giant alien space vessel just like a rocket.

Between Universes

Whipping the raging torrents of energy like blazing whips, the being of pure power ruthlessly tore at the barrier imprisoning it. Particles exploded releasing even more energy. It hated the dark well with a mindless fury. Feeling the walls restraining its anger withstand against its assault, it howled splitting atom’s fire into the deluge of power.

Slowly the prison in the crevice amid realities began giving way again. Reason was lost to its wrath. It would not be denied the feast of destruction that it hungered for.

New York City

September 18, 2008

The exclusive private club in Manhattan flaunted the wealth of its members; from the rare wood paneling on its walls, to the handcrafted carpets upon its hallowed floors. Many of its members came from old money, but in this enlightened age the only requirement for membership was to possess power. Some might describe them as movers and shakers, and they were more right then they knew. It was all about influence. Their decisions affected the lives of thousands, millions of their lesser brethren.

In theory, the club allowed men of authority to relax and unwind from their stressful day. In reality, it was where many of the real decisions were made and real business was conducted. Its halls had become cliché for backroom deals. Because of that, privacy and security had become a paramount issue for the management. A detail, the group enjoying brandy and the solitude of the one of the plush private rooms, appreciated.

The three men lounged around the table that was worth the average citizen’s yearly income, as a servant passed out cigars. Of course, it was forbidden by the city’s smoking ban, but to such men mere laws were obstacles. It was only wrong to get caught.

Together they represented the majority of the permanent Directors of ULTIMATE. It had taken them many long years to rise through the bureaucracy to their present positions, but they had done whatever it took. They knew the very survival of the human race was at stake. Mankind’s question of whether there was life out there had been answered and the reply had not been friendly.

However dire a threat such invaders offered, it was the other threat that most concerned them. The one nestled under man’s very nose; Mutants. The inhuman creatures masquerading as men but more often as the hideous monsters they really were. All were an affront to all honest men and to Gawd. All deserved nothing more than to be cleansed from the gene pool before they corrupted others of the faith.

As an inside joke, they always referred to themselves by numbers, a holdover from their early days when a careless remark about their true feelings could have resulted in trouble for them and their cause. They knew their views weren’t those of the majority, but unlike their fellows, they were willing to take whatever steps necessary to save mankind, whether or not it wanted to be or not.

Number One puffed on his illegal Cuban import. “The Frenchman has stumbled onto information that links Kali and the Witch to Mutant-stan. I’m not certain of his reasoning but events are unfolding as he has surmised they would.”

Number Two opened his eyes that were closed in pleasure, exhaling the fragrant smoke. “I’ve been following that case as well. Whatever is happening at Area 61 must be nearing a critical phase. Our analysts have spotted a hurried pattern to the construction at the nearby testing range. Their security is very good and we still don‘t know why they have reactivated Project Meridian.”

Number Three’s sour expression made his thoughts clear on the subject. “It’s disgusting that the United States actually still allow the empowerment of the vile creatures. We probably have enough evidence to get this cover project of theirs, Chiron, canceled, but that still leaves that madman McClellan out there with his depraved experiments. I still think our best bet to get rid of them all is to let it blow up in their faces.”

Waving his cigar like a pointer, Number Two countered, “That would be convenient for us, but we have no guarantee that will be the outcome. Regardless of how accurate the Inspector is about their identities, we do know they are moving against Area 61 presumably to rescue those mutant brats from that mad scientist.”

“I believe the question before us is whether or not to warn the Air Force about Kali and the Witch’s impending assault. Do we hope if warned they can stop those two where we’ve failed or do we do nothing hoping their presence further worsens the situation into something more in our favor?” Number Two put to his colleagues.

Sipping the expensive brandy, Number One sighed. “We have spoken of this before and decided to let things develop on their own. What this information alters is if we can prove a link between Mutant-stan and an attack on an United States military facility we might finally push the Security Council into letting us take care of that problem once and for all.”

“I don’t think their Air Force would be any more successful than our own forces with neutralizing those two mutants. Like any group of insurgents, they depend on staying away from enemies powerful enough to defeat them, but the witches’ ability to negate their opponents’ technical advantage gives them the upper hand. There forth I vote no. Those two have been thorns in our sides for long enough. We know what they can do. I believe they have a reasonable chance of causing significant damage to Project Meridian, perhaps to the point of forcing the Wildfire Protocols.”

All three men sat back considering that scenario, a nuke going off in the United States. For practical purposes, it would be the same as any other sub-surface nuclear explosion. There had been hundreds of such explosions and no real problems had arisen from them. That was of course why Area 61 was so far off the beaten path to begin with.

Politically it was very different, and particularly so if they could prove the involvement of Mutant-stan in the disaster. Few events would guarantee the fury of the American public more, than a nuke going off on an American military base. No matter the weapon would be one of the Air Force’s and detonated by one of its own officers. Spin-doctors could handle that little detail. It would surely result in the United States declaring war on that nation of mutants and certainly prevent or at least hinder Mutant-stan’s mutual defense treaties with Kazakhstan from protecting it.

On another level, the destruction of Area 61 and the harm it would do to their rivals, the Office of Achieves and Records, OAR, would be a very desirable outcome. They all knew of the illegal United States Supra-human program, but as long as certain limits were not exceeded, it was easier to ignore it than fight it. In truth, nearly every single signatory to the ULTIMATE accords had some type of program to avoid the spirit of the intent of the treaties.

However, an unpleasant incident last year in the American city of New Riverside had thrown ULTIMATE into a public relations disaster. A high-ranking officer had succumbed to blackmailing from a major supra-human threat performing traitorous acts. Due to Lt. Colonel Benjamin Hostler’s actions, and the extreme mismanagement by the administrator of that region, ULTIMATE forces had fallen into open conflict with the local Supra-group and their allies in a knock-down no holds barred battle that the supra-villains than had taken advantage by attacking both groups.

The United States Air Force had been involved as well, as activity they suspected came from OAR, despite claims that the intervention came from other dimensional beings. It was just too much for them to believe that a powerful supra-team could appear out of nowhere without OAR having something to do with it. Not to mention Major Victory, of all people, coming out of his retirement, whom many still regarded as a living symbol of the American Ideal.

To throw a such a huge wrench into one of OAR’s major projects was very satisfying thought, as petty as it might be.

Number Two made use of the silver ashtray and said what they were all thinking. “It would be satisfying to ride to the Air Forces rescue and it would be an excellent opportunity to make sure no undesirables survived the experience. I propose we pre-position our Heavy Assault Brigade close enough to respond, perhaps using an unscheduled training exercise as their cover story. Additionally, we can send in Supra-Reaction Team One. That conceited bitch has had her comeuppance coming since long before that mess at New Riverside. With luck maybe Wildfire will get them all.”

Number Three nodded in agreement. “Perhaps we can put some pressure on the State Department about our concerns of something escaping from there, making them more likely to press that button for Wildfire. I did see a report about a flying saucer being seen in the area.”

Number One picked up his glass. “We’ll keep these plans from our dear inspector, but we will encourage him to stay in the area keeping a close eye on Area 61. As you say with a little fortune all of our problems will take of themselves and we will come out looking like the saviors.”

As one amid the bluish cloud of cigar smoke, they toasted their decision. Callously glossing over the lives of the men and women their plan would throw into harm’s way they drank secure in their own minds they were acting for the greater good of mankind.

Chapter 27

September 19, 2008

Area 61

ETWF: Minus 13 Days

Lizzie bounced on her bed. She was bored. It was Friday and they had the rest of the evening to themselves. They did have some yucky testing tomorrow with that creepy Doctor, but it was still only a half day. At least Mr. Glenn would be there. Ms. Hathaway would be too, but she was almost as scary as that Doctor.

Still, she mostly liked it here although she missed her friends back home. The older girls, Amanda and Malak, were really nice, but didn’t make up for not having anyone to play with. The boys, well, were boys. Josh and Malik were always busy watching sports or playing games on the TV.

Then there was Billy. Lizzie stopped bouncing her face screwed up thinking hard. He was closest to her age even if he was a boy. Besides that, he was nice to her in class and in the gym. Thinking really hard now, she knew from the practice they had with Mr. Simpson’s clones Billy could become almost her size. Not to mention all the funny shapes she thought giggling. Mr. Simpson’s clones looked a lot like her and were her size, but he and his clones were even scarier than that Doctor.

Jumping up off her bed, she knew the clones didn’t last long disappearing like soap bubbles after a little while, and she didn’t think any of them would want to play with her anyways. It was time to find someone who would. She ran to the room where the older girls were, but they were busy talking about boys and clothes. Stomping her foot, Lizzie skipped over to Billy’s room.

Bill stared into the mirror at the reflection within. It was her face. Ever since that night when Valentina had helped him find her, he’d been distracted to the point of being obsessed. It wasn’t him, but in a way, it was.

He was mystified by the incredible rightness about this image. Touching her face, he could see, feel, the subtle differences that gave the one he was born with an unmistakable feminine cast. She wasn’t beautiful like the women in the pictures Bill had imitated in his experimentation, but had something they somehow all lacked. His parents’ kinship was reflected back at him. Looking at this girl in the mirror was like looking straight into his own heart and seeing the true person hidden there.

Mr. Glenn, Val, had shown him how to give those features he’d always thought of as ordinary and bland, that while not classically beautiful, a fresh cute look. About the only real criticism she did give to him was about his voice.

She gave him some homework. Bill had to find songs by female artists he liked and sing along with them. He wasn’t to copy them, but to practice pitching his voice as she’d showed him. If anyone else walked in on him, he could just play it off as singing along, no big deal.

Almost as important as finding her face, was finding Val. Here was someone like her. Completely mind-blowing was that of all people in the world it was Captain Vroom. It was hard for Bill to reconcile the fit muscular Mr. Glenn with the athletically trim Val.

The ex-hero carried himself with a real tough guy attitude. At the same time, there was something about him that told you this man was good people. Bill could see all the other kids felt it too. You kinda knew he would make things right somehow. Even Josh had lightened up and started being more friendly under his tutelage.

If Mr. Glenn gave off good vibes, Val positively shone with them. Her happiness dancing out of from behind that curtain was so obvious it was like standing in the sun. Strangely, Bill could see the very things that he admired most in his teacher in this woman who was so much alive. It was as if being able to stop pretending to be Alan Glenn lifted an impossibly heavy veil from her. Now that she’d been freed, Val had almost literally danced into the air.

That rang true with what he’d felt as well when he changed his form to that of women he’d seen in photographs and TV. However, all of that paled besides finding that girl in the mirror. Val called her Billie and maybe that should be her name.

The loud knock at his door startled him and the face in the mirror snapped back to his familiar boy face. He felt such a sense of loss at something precious being taken away from her, that a lump froze in his throat from the strength of the emotion. Perhaps he’d been right about the way Val had felt, when she could stop pretending, if he was feeling like this when he had to go back to being a boy.

That thought made Bill pause despite the thunderous knocking at his door. Was he pretending to be a boy too? Was Billie who she really was?

Giving his image one last searching stare, he answered his door. Bill was a little surprised to find Lizzie there.

Looking up at him she asked, “Can you play with me?”

Really wanting to get back to his thoughts about Val and what they’d done the night before, Bill replied, “Can’t Amanda or Malak play with you? I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue in dislike. “No. They’re talking about boys and clothes. I want to play with you.”

Remembering she could rip the door right off its hinges, Bill sighed. “Why me and not one of the others?”

Looking at him as if he’d lost his mind, she said, “They’re boys! They’re always playing games or watching TV.”

Wondering just where this was going as well as being a little freaked out because he’d just been thinking about just how much of guy he really might or might not be, he asked, “Lizzie. You do know I’m a boy, right?”

She thought about that for moment, and said, “But you’re not like them. You’re nice to me and never treat me mean. Josh or Malik would’ve told me to just go bother Amanda or Malak and shut their door. You were nice and asked me.”

Then bouncing up, hovering off the floor she said excitedly, “Besides you can be my size like I saw you do it in the gym! I know you and the big girls are older than me, but I don’t have anyone my age to play with. Please play with me.” Finished, she looked up at him with her big green eyes.

Bill blinked, trying to buy time to make his brains work. In the gym Mr. Simpson’s clone of him had shown him how to compact himself down to nearly Lizzie’s height. He still kept his secret that he could mold himself into other people’s likenesses, but sometimes he wondered why. It seemed almost everyone knew. Ollie, Mr. Glenn and let's not forget Ms Hathaway who’d put all those girl clothes in his closet.

He liked Lizzie and didn’t mind spending time with her. However, Bill really wanted to have some time to work through what he was feeling about his newest revelation. Then the thought came to him, 'why not do both at the same time?'.

Bill knew she could keep a secret because she hadn’t mentioned anything about the clubhouse or Ollie to any of the grownups. Besides, there’d been times he so wanted to join in Amanda and Malak’s little group so badly his chest hurt. Lizzie was a lot younger than he had in mind, but he was new to this girl thing. Why not start at the beginning, he reasoned.

“Okay,” he said. “But if we’re going to play I’d need to borrow something to play in. If I go down to your size, nothing of mine will fit me. How about one of your jumpers like what you’ve got on?”

Bill knew Dr. McClellan was still working on super-suits for them. He needed something that would grow or shrink with him, but so far he’d made do with a loose gi. However even that wouldn’t fit with him losing more than a foot of height and slimmer. Besides if someone did see him, if he was dressed like Lizzie and near her size, it might confuse them to who he was.

Lizzie bobbed in the air excited. “Yay! We can be twins like Malak and Malik.” With that, she zoomed off to her room even though she wasn’t supposed to fly outside of the gym. Hardly a few moments had passed before she was back with an armload of clothes.

Picking up the kid sized clothes, a part of him couldn’t believe he was dressing as a little girl. Bill almost stopped, but Lizzie standing there expectantly in front of him, made sure he’d to go though with his promise.

“I’ll meet you in your room where your toys and stuff are. It’ll take me a bit to change,” Bill told her.

Still not believing he was doing this, he waited till she’d shut the door, sighing. Turning to the mirror, he took a deep breath, and started shrinking. He knew from Dr. McClellan’s testing that he still weighed the same no matter what shape he took, he was only rearranging how he looked.

When Bill shrunk like he was doing now, he did get harder, being denser. He did get stronger kinda, but it sorta worked out about the same since he had less leverage being smaller. The same was true when he was larger. A little weaker, but being able to exert himself more efficiently made up for it.

The testing had also revealed that he was an Alpha class mutant with all his psychical and mental abilities as good as the best normal humans. That made his schoolwork a lot easier and his better memory let him copy Lizzie’s slim form. He thought about keeping his own face but decided he could change that if he needed to after he made the dash to her room.

It took less time than it used to, although compacted like he was, it seemed it was harder to sculpt his face. After dressing, Bill was Lizzie’s double. He still hesitated before the door. The fear of being seen and teased by the others was hard to overcome. Whispering a silent prayer, he opened the door.

Malak giggled at the picture of the outfit Amanda was showing her. The short skirt would make her grandmother have a heart attack. The girl was definitely developing a crush on Josh. Not that any of them had a lot of romantic choices, given there was only six of them. At least Amanda had Josh as a possible boyfriend, who was returning her interest.

The only other male near her age was Bill. Not only was he younger than she was, but Malak wasn’t sure of just exactly what her sexuality was. There were times she felt tingly all over, embarrassingly enough, in the girl’s locker room with Amanda, but could get the giggles discussing how much or little, guys were cute. Sighing inside, she guessed she was still working it all out.

Both of them had turned into their little group’s social coordinators. It sucked having to get up early tomorrow on a Saturday, but at least they had the afternoon off. The testing they went through was pretty easy but boring. Lift this, fly here, freeze this other, or electrify that.

On the other hand, they had the whole afternoon and Sunday to themselves. Okay, their Mom and Grandmother had insisted both twins attend church and that hadn’t changed. Conveniently, there was a small chapel with a friendly Air Force chaplain. Moreover, someone had to make sure little Lizzie got to Sunday school, because as powerful as that child was, she needed all the help she could get telling right from wrong.

That didn’t change the fact they had all of Saturday and Sunday afternoon free of Hathaway’s schedule. Supposedly, they all had homework assignments to work on, but none of them had been slackers before all this mutant stuff had hit them. Now all of them qualified as brainy and found the self-paced classes taught by Mr. Glenn, easy to keep up with. Needless to say, homework was also a snap.

Which all added up what to wear for tomorrow evening. The high point of their week was the mid-night Saturday meetings at The Rocketeers’ secret clubhouse. Before hand was movie night, even if the movie didn’t get watched much. It was a chance to dress in something not a uniform and to clown around having some fun.

Thing was, everything the Air Force had provided for them was a uniform even if it wasn’t because they were just like what everyone else had. It was as if everything had been ordered out of a catalog with only the sizes being different. Malak could tell Amanda wanted something to wear that would catch Josh’s eyes. While she might not be dressing to impress someone, Malak wanted to get out of these drab clothes too.

Amanda had the idea of getting dress ideas from magazines and seeing if they couldn’t modify some of their wardrobe so it didn’t look as it came from a uniform catalog. At the same time, they were keeping half an eye on Lizzie’s darting back and forth. They both giggled at the pout she put on at the door when she found both of them busy.

Lizzie skipped to Bill’s room, but soon after ran to her room and then back to his again. Amanda had nudged her, pointing out the bundle the young girl had carried. Curious, but not enough to stop what they were doing, the two teenagers gave their wardrobe a close examination. Unhappily, they decided that about the most their sewing skills could manage would be shortening their uniform skirts.

Lizzie ran to her room giggling. Then a few moments later, another Lizzie followed her, déjá  vu!

Malak stopped, blinking her eyes. “Did you see that Amanda?” She turned to her friend only to see her nodding.

She considered for a second that Lizzie might be playing a joke on them, perhaps egged on by Bill whose room she’d just come from. However even if it were, they were going to have check on the little red headed powerhouse, because of all the stories of weird stuff happening down here.

The two girls sneaked over to Lizzie’s room. Hearing subdued giggling and laughs from two girls, Amanda gave her a wondering look asking wordlessly, what is going on here?

Malak pointed at her own eyes and then at the shut door. She’d learned how to use her magnetic ability like a Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine, MRI. It wasn’t quite like that supra dude out of the comic books, X-ray vision, but it came close. Inside she saw the sparkly outline that was Lizzie’s surrounding force screen, but there was another person there too!

This mystery person was the same size and shape as Lizzie, but somehow was really thick or heavy from what Malak could see. She was a little alarmed, but the two of them were just playing. Taking a second to blink the strange image away, she whispered to Amanda what she’d seen. “I saw Lizzie playing with something, someone else who was about the same size, but whoever it was seemed thicker or heavier some how,” she said, shrugging. “I’m still learning how to figure out what I’m seeing.”

Amanda got a thoughtful look, asking softly, “Or maybe just compacted?”

Malak looking over at his room, they both said at the same time, “Bill.”

They looked at each other surprised. In the dojo, they had seen him elongate and twist himself into all kinds of impossible shapes. Amanda whispered, “He’s not just a stretcher, but a shape changer to!”

Amanda stopped her as she reached for the door. Insistently she pulled Malak back to her room with the bed covered in magazines and clothes.

Though understanding her friend wanted to talk, she was still ruffled by her interruption. “What?” Malak asked, not quite understanding the look Amanda was giving her.

“You said Bill and Lizzie were just playing right? Were they doing anything wrong?” the older girl asked gently.

Malak shook her head, no. “But he was pretending he was a little girl. What if he does something to Lizzie?”

“Assuming anyone at all could get through her force screen to hurt her, I don’t think he would do anything like that,” Amanda answered, flopping down on her cluttered bed.

Not really understanding her own feelings, Malak replied, “It doesn’t seem right somehow. It has to be wrong,” she said, getting ready to go back over and confront the boy.

Amanda didn’t get up to stop her, but gave her a piercing stare, asking, “Is it him spending time with her or is it him using his powers to give her someone her age to play with? He stays to himself mostly and doesn’t hang with the boys. Okay, so he’s not into the stuff most guys like, but now we find him playing with Lizzie. So, is it wrong, or only different? Just like we‘re different.”

Malak stopped as she remembered a boy in school back in LA who’d started dressing as a girl. “You mean he’s gay, transsexual or something?”

Amanda looked upward as she considered it. “Well Bill did say something about someone had made a mistake and put a lot of girl clothes in his locker when we first got here. Could be they knew about him and were trying to encourage him,” she said, waving her hands at the unseen monitors they knew were watching them all the time.

Continuing Amanda said, “In any case, Lizzie is fine and having fun it sounded like to me. It does occur to me that we might need to see what clothes he has. If they wanted him to experiment they might’ve given him a, hmmm…, wider selection,” she said, picking up one of the too long plain skirts with distaste.”

The young teen sighed. Although it still bothered her in a way she really couldn‘t explain, her friend was right. Bill wasn’t hurting anyone, or anything, and if there was ever a little girl on the planet that didn’t have to worry about that kind of trouble it was Lizzie. Malak wasn’t sure of her own sexuality yet so who was she to start casting stones?

Let the two have a good time and who knows, maybe the girls would end up outnumbering the boys down here after all. Besides, if he did have a better wardrobe than they, he was about to learn of the ancient and revered tradition of girls borrowing each other’s threads!

To be continued.

Capt Vroom's adventures continue!

Chapter 28

September 20, 2008

Area 61

ETWF: Minus 12 Days

General Robert Laramie stood authoritatively as he surveyed the immense Z-Ray 13 emitter. Gruffly, he thought they should call the damn thing what it looks like, a damn cannon from hell. The latest subject was strapped down and the white suited techs were swarming about attaching the small forest of telemetry leads.

Safely behind a foot of lead infused transparent PlasSteel, he could still feel the bell shaped matrix generator and its magnetic containment fields revving up to operating speeds. Despite having to run these experiments late at night because of security concerns, as well as Project Looking Glass’s growing power requirements, not a single soul yawned. Pure fear could do that. They all knew just how dangerous this thing was. Every time this thing was fired up, they were unleashing the fires of the gods. Some said they were opening Pandora’s Box, while others claimed they were like Prometheus.

The General knew all of them were wrong. Dr. McClellan had built upon the Nazi ’Die Glocke’ Project and their experiments with Xerum 525. As a student of history, he knew the legacy of blood begun by the Nazi’s experiments continue to the present day in the form of Project Meridian. He was well aware of just how many had died in the nearly sixty years since this hellish device's invention.

No, this wasn’t any heroic Greek tale of stealing fire or a foolish woman opening a box. It was much darker than that. Blood and black, evil, sinister deeds were what that thing represented. For every shining success to walk like a god from that chamber, too many others had died horrible, unspeakable deaths warped beyond any recognition of ever having been human. That is, the ones that simply weren’t turned into black radioactive slime.

Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Dr. McClellan had vastly improved the odds of leaving that amphitheater alive, but the deficit in lives accrued since the dark years of WWII would forever stain the ledger in red.

Yet here he was ready, like an ancient Carthaginian, to throw more youngsters into the fires of Ba`al Hammon altars, paying for the gods’ dark favor in flesh and blood. There simply wasn’t a choice. This facility represented an insurance policy not only for the United States, but for the entire world. In its depths were stored the knowledge and weapons that he hoped and prayed would never be needed. However, the universe had proved itself to have as vicious a food chain as any on Earth.

During the Alien Gray Invasion in 1996, it’d been a recovered alien spacecraft launched from here that’d delivered the computer virus that disabled the invasion fleet‘s computers. That’d given the Earth the chance to fight back. For that matter many of the other weapons that’d helped deliver victory had their start right here in Area 61’s labs. Even the aging heroes of the disbanded Eagle Squadron who’d helped defend the planet had their origins in this very room.

No, this facility had to be protected. That was not even considering the untold disaster of the transformed Blazzar running amuck. The thought of what a living atomic weapon could do in a mad rampage upon the nation he loved so made his blood run cold.

Down below, the yellow warning lights helped hasten the technicians’ evacuation from the amphitheater. That left the lone figure strapped down spread eagle before the massive bore of the magnetic coils designed to focus the emissions of the ‘Die Glocke’ onto one frail child.

Robert Laramie closed his eyes, haunted by a memory of another little girl, Joyce Sturm. She’d only been 12 when she died down there.

Opening his eyes, he saw Dr. McClellan at the control panel nod his readiness. Lifting the bright red flashing safety covers, together he and the Doctor put in their keys and turned them. The howling klaxons and the flashing red lights seemed appropriate for what they were about to unleash. He understood all too well the saying, “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions” as the Doctor pulled the trigger.

Wild purple lightning thundered into the chamber. Even with his goggles and the heavily polarized PlasSteel, he had to look away from the blinding arc of energies.

The second the radiation detectors gave the all clear, the medical team ran to the subject. A glance at the telemetry told the General the experiment still lived. Turning he checked the monitor revealing the room full of the casket-like energy stasis pods waiting their turn.

He’d had his doubts about this project offshoot when Dr. McClellan had first brought it to him. However, his experience had taught him to always have a backup plan. Looking over at the subject being hustled out of the chamber he could see the Saul Simpson clone of Elizabeth Tyree still breathed. Only time would tell if the combination of stasis pods and exposure to the Z-ray would give her true life or she would simply derezz.

Passing her gurney, another team of techs were rushing to get the occupant of the next pod in place, only twenty-nine to go.

South Asia, Kazakhstan

Zolotoye-Yablochko Ministry of Defense

Pyotr Savitskiy ran his hands through his short military crew cut. The current situation between Georgia and the Russian Federation had everyone on edge. No one wanted to see the Russian Bear become hungry and start gobbling up its neighbors again. The President had asked the Ministry what their military options were to help discourage them.

With typical Slavic fatalism the President listened to them give what they saw as their options. Pyotr wanted to laugh. Defense Ministry? They had one so called general and twelve colonels. All chiefs and no Indians, his sister would say. Calling their little city, a nation, was really pushing believability, but even as much as it’d grown, Yablochko just couldn’t support a standing Army.

They relied on their militia and did their best to have as highly trained officers, sergeants and instructors as they could so the rank and file could be filled out by their citizens. Even then, their Police force came closest to regular soldiers. Their real muscle was their Special Forces teams, which made the best use of their strengths, the large number of mutants that lived here. Like the Cossacks of old they would harass and hinder larger forces while waiting for the chance to destroy key elements of the enemy’s support and command structure.

Everyone in this room knew that someday the mutant haters would attack them. Their city had been built years before during the Great Patriotic War as a secret factory city far from the front lines. Nestled in the mountains, their Soviet masters had taken every advantage of that and dug deep into the very rock. With the threat of Western missiles in the Cold War, every possible service had been hardened to survive the holocaust that never came.

When the breakup of the Soviet Union had left them suddenly exposed, canny politics let them slip by the tyrannical laws of ULTIMATE. It had not escaped any of them that the organization had grown increasingly hostile toward the very group it was suppose to protect and govern. With that firmly in mind, they had burrowed even more deeply into the mountains, making use of the defensive terrain.

The unique crafts and products their mutant citizens could produce gave their small nation an economy all out of proportion to its size. Peter smiled thinking of his sister’s remarks about boomtowns. Her thoughts on the subject were whispered loudly in the right ears, pushing those planning the city’s expansion to make sure their Golden Apple was also a pleasant place to live.

The President sighed as he received their recommendations that military forces not be deployed, given it would mean putting their only standing ready force, their instructors, in harm’s way. Losing even the experience of one, whom they relied on for training the rank and file of their militia, would be a heavy blow to their defenses. However, their intelligence services with its farseers, and clairvoyants could feed useful information about the Russians’ movements, that no satellite could match, to their allies.

As the meeting was breaking up, Peter sighed once more as the President’s aide passed him the note that the Commander in Chief wanted to see him. Standing he took a quick moment to straighten his uniform, holding his service cap stiffly under his arm. He stood waiting his turn for his President’s attention.

The Commander in Chief’s mostly bald gray fringe head showed his age even if his still trim body told of his ferocious self-discipline. He’d led his people for over ten years in the treacherous political terrain of post-Soviet Central Asia.

The wily politician’s eyes lit up as he approached Pyotr. Warmly the two men grasped each other. Releasing him, the older man’s face turned serious.

“Pyotr I understand your sister’s mad mission has at last landed her in trouble. I must applaud her bravery and the lives she’s saved, but it is time she came home,” the older man said gravely.

Pyotr nodded. “She’s been taken back to the American’s secret city much like this one. This might be a good thing. Many ghosts from her past are there. Mayhap she will be able to, at long last, to lay them to rest.”

A small precious moment of silence rested between them for they both had specters of their own.

Drawing himself up the older commanded, “Colonel, I think it is time you take some leave. Events in Georgia are beyond our ability to control for the near future and I would rather have you rested without any worries about proceedings in faraway lands, if and when, things do reach us. Perhaps you can find a few loyal friends to go with you. There is protection in numbers. You hear such horrible stories about what happens to tourists in America.”

Pyotr nodded understanding exactly what kind of vacation his President had in mind. Already he had a few of those loyal friends in mind to take such a trip.

Before turning away back to his entourage of aides, he said one last thing. “When you find Valentina, tell her I and her mother loves her very much, and want her to come home. We’re still waiting on grandchildren from her.”

Pyotr’s reply was lost in the roar of voices seeking the President of Zolotoye-Yablochko’s attention. “Yes Papa.”

Chapter 29

September 20, 2008

Area 61

ETWF: Minus 12 Days

Bill wearily stretched his arm the 6 feet to open the door. That morning Dr. McClellan wanted to check exactly what Bill’s level of physical fitness was. He’d been run half to death on that treadmill. Getting back to his room, all he could do was flop down on his bed in exhaustion.

He was surprised to find Amanda and Malak standing there. A little embarrassed at being caught being lazy, he hurriedly stood, wincing at his sore muscles.

“Huh, hi? What’s up?” Bill said, kicking himself for his stupid question.

The two smiled while Amanda asked, “Can we come in? We have something to ask you.”

Seeing them there smiling like a pair hunting lionesses made his stomach flip-flop. Bill wondered if they had seen him and Lizzie playing together yesterday. That stress made his poor digestive track twist up even more.

Thing was he did have a good time even if it had been a little awkward at first. He had a little sister, Stacy, who was even younger than Lizzie, but playing with her was nothing like with Lizzie. Once he got used to letting the red headed pint sized powerhouse take the lead, it had been fun. He was still the older looking out for her, but was learning from her just what girls her age did. Not the stereotype stuff, he thought they did.

Bill apprehensively nodded saying, “Um, Sure. W, w, what do you need?”

Amanda, still taking the lead, got right to it. “We saw you playing with Lizzie yesterday and we want to know if that means you still have those clothes you mentioned when we first got here?”

Shocked he’d been outed, Bill could only nod again, feeling like a bobble-headed doll.

Amanda, ignoring his reaction, smiled, continuing in for the kill. “We’ve been running around in uniforms or dingy sweats for two weeks now. Tonight is our get together and movie night, and we want to dress up some. We remembered you said something about the people here stuffing your closet full of girl-stuff, so we were wondering if you would mind if we had a look?”

Still pale and trying to remember how to breathe, Bill bobbled his head once more, pointing vaguely at his closet.

Both girls pounced at the invitation and started pulling things out, examining them. Chatting excitedly, they found some of the stuff even Bill was embarrassed about having.

Shaky from his shock, Bill felt distinctly removed from reality. He’d undergone just a few too many life-changing U-turns the past few weeks. A stray humorous thought made him wonder if he had a closet like Dr. Who from the BBC. First it was the Air Force and Ms. Hathaway, and then Mr. Glenn rummaging through it. Now, he had two girls hotter than any in his old school in it now. All the while he was trying not to stare at Malak's shapely rear, whom he admitted to himself he did have a kinda of crush on.

Just then, the girl of his dreams turned to him holding up a very short dress asking, “Bill just how did you fit into these? I know you can change shape but…” her voice trailed off as she struggle with the thought.

He could tell from her voice that she seemed to having trouble accepting he had all this stuff. Amanda, however, was far too concerned with the treasures she was finding to worry about them being his.

Making a huge effort to reconnect with the rest of the world, he said, “I have to concentrate real hard on the image, I want to become.” Feeling himself blushing bright red, he added, “It helps if I have a picture and a mirror.”

Malak with her very fair face blushed back asking, “But you really do wear these? Can you show me? I mean us?” she said, blushing even redder than he.

Amanda froze turning from his Grand Central Station like closet. Looking at both of them, she gave them a hard glare. “Hold on you two. Before I changed into a mutant, I was one of the 'popular girls',” she said, making ditto marks with her fingers.

“I was on the cheerleading squad and all the girls followed my lead. Then I mutated and I found out just what kind of torment I’d put others through. I went from the top to outsider so fast I hadn’t even recovered from it before they sent someone over to take back my cheerleading uniform.”

“No one would have anything to do with me. I found out just how loyal my so-called friends were and everyone else remembered how badly I'd treated them. There is nothing wrong with being different Bill, but I had to learn the hard way. Down here, we’re all misfits anyways so if you’re ready to share with us, fine. If not, we can wait. You’re more than welcome to dress and join us girls this evening. If the boys say anything, we can stick Lizzie on them,” she said, with a mischievous grin.

He immediately almost said no, but something in Malak’s eyes as she held up that dress made him bite it back. It reminded him of when his father had told him about the birds and the bees. Bill, as he listen to his father’s meandering speech, wondered how he’d been born at all if this was what his parents thought sex was all about. What had stayed with him though was his father saying that a man would do some of the most stupid things imaginable to catch or please a girl they liked.

Taking the dress from her and walking to his bathroom for privacy to change, Bill knew exactly what his dad had been talking about. Undressing, he had serious reservations, but a part of himself ferociously yearned to be her again. With a deep breath, he composed himself and there she was. Remembering to refer to herself as Billie, she was amazed at how quickly becoming Billie was almost as easy as relaxing into Bill.

Dressing, she made one or two alterations to herself to better fit the skimpy dress. Billie was glad that this was one of the dresses that had the underwear hung up with it. The white boys briefs wouldn’t go at all well with black, not to mention that panty line.

Not giving herself too much time to think about it, but still blushing scarlet, she opened the door. “Taa Da!” she announced nervously.

Amanda had that startled ‘deer in the headlights’ look, but it was Malak that gave Billie the giggles. She had the most dumbfounded expression. Both girls were still giving the stuff in her closet the once over, and had frozen as she had danced in.

Thinking back about her first time seeing Val, Billie did a clumsy imitation of that graceful twirl, causing her so short skirt to swirl. Realizing she was showing her lacy undies, Billie blushed even redder, stumbling to a stop, fell awkwardly onto her bed. Amanda and Malak’s frozen faces collapsed into mirth. Still giggling, she joined in, feeling as if a huge burden had lifted from her. Opening her heart, she let the laughter carry her worries away.

Josh and Malik gave each other a puzzled look hearing the riot of laughter erupting from Bill’s room. Both of them had rushed back after the morning tests, not even bothering to shower, so they could catch the beginning of the game. As intent as they were on the broadcast, the two guys couldn’t help wondering just what was happening in the younger boy’s room.

The two knew something had been going on the last two days, but wasn’t sure just what. Shrugging, they turned their attention back to the tube, but another outburst poked Malik’s curiosity so hard he couldn’t resist.

Josh grabbed his arm as he started to stand. “Don’t. Since I got my powers, I’ve learned there are some things you’ve got to leave alone. Trust me. Whatever it is they’re doing in there you don’t want to know.”

Malik hesitated, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He really wanted to know what was going on.

The older boy sighed, explaining, “They have the door shut so they wanted some privacy. I think I hear all three of them laughing so it‘s at no one’s expense. What’s more, tonight is our night to hang out and if you get caught peeking, they won’t let either one of us forget it.” Gesturing at the TV. “Besides which you’ll miss the beginning of the next inning.”

Malik sat back down. Josh had a point and despite his curiosity, he’d been waiting for this game all week. “Girls being girls, they would probably find out soon enough anyways,” he thought and went back to watching his game, studiously ignoring the commotion.

Alan shook his head with a smile upon his lips. Billie had surprised him when she had appeared at movie night en-femme. He’d been apprehensive seeing how Amanda and Malak had pushed her into the public outing. It was that old good thing, bad thing. It was good that the older girls were so supportive, but bad if it was too soon for Billie to cope.

Those fears had faded as the young transgendered girl had relaxed and had obviously enjoyed herself. Lizzie had nearly put Billie in the infirmary with her very enthusiastic approval. Good thing Billie was so resilient! Well no harm done and maintenance could fix that hole in the wall Monday.

The two boys reacted favorably despite Billie’s desertion from the ranks of masculine solidarity. Josh took it more or less in stride even though he was from a military town with conservative views. Malik, since he and his sister were from LA, seemed more tolerant and even somewhat confused. It hadn’t escaped Alan that both of the Thorpe twins were enamored over Billie’s new appearance.

True there was still the occasional jarring gesture, but Alan thought she did very well. Last week they’d learned that Billie had only a limited ability to alter such things as hair and nails. She could lengthen it just so much, and so they could do little to style her hair to look appropriate for a girl of her age.

He’d done his part to liven up the activities when he’d convinced one of the guards to sneak in an order from Dad’s drive-in. The kids had descended on the burgers and fries with gusto. Surreptitiously, he’d hidden a strawberry shake in the fridge for Ollie for later on. His friend had been wordless at the generosity of his favorite treat.

The movie had been a summer blockbuster the kids had already seen but everyone was just as happy to see it again. Afterwards, sneaking off to the clubhouse, Alan had been pleased, as he’d called the meeting to order. They’d all learned much more about their powers and each other. Next week would start teamwork exercises in the simulator and he hoped he could get Doc to okay them getting clearance to go to the Geode. They needed the extra room to practice flying and really cut loose with their powers.

Alan stifled a yawn. He’d put the kids to bed, but now it was time with for his weekly progress report with Big Mac and Ollie. It was almost a sure thing that this would be his last time here in the States. His cover had been very good, but being here in the spot light he was sure it was growing frayed. If he wanted to get Ollie and Big Mac out of this dump, it would have to be now. Thing was, even with the help he was expecting, getting those two and the kids to a place of safety was going to be a bigger trick than anything his foster-dad had performed on stage.

Ollie called to him. “Alan? Are you on your way back? There is a new development you need to be aware of.”

Closing the secret panel behind him, Alan sent back, “Hold on. I’m stepping through the door as we speak.”

Wondering what the rush was, he hurried down the short passage. Turning the corner, he stopped in his tracks. Slouched down in the clubhouse’s most comfortable chair with her dirty scuffed boots on the table was a tired looking woman. Her red curls suffered from hat-hair besides being filthy. A cluttered pile of dusty equipment was on floor next to her. Her gear showed signs of hard use as did she, with her dirty face. She was the most beautiful sight Alan had ever seen.

“Maggie!” Alan sang from his heart, running to her.

She stood, wrapping her arms around him, wincing from her hurts as he hugged her back. Pulling back from his embrace to see his face, she kissed him.

Remembering they had an audience Alan turned facing an amused Ollie.

The little Gray turned on his voder, “So is there something you would like to tell me my friend?”

Big Mac’s camera red light flickered on, “Yes, inquiring minds want to know.”

Chapter 29

September 20, 2008

Area 61

ETWF: Minus 12 Days

“So I’m waiting for you to return, Alan, and she just walks in. Somehow ignoring all the early warning sensors and traps, I have in the access way, she dumps her gear on the floor and flops down. Then she says, “I’m a friend of Alan Glenn. Could you please let him know I’m here. Then she goes to sleep!” Ollie said with his voder while waving his arms.

Maggie shook her head in amusement. She’d heard about Ollie from Alan, but hadn’t realized he was one of the aliens that’d invaded a couple of years ago. Unlike other Gray’s she’d had contact with, Ollie was very spontaneous and even had a warmness about him. The other Grays always seemed very cold and calculating to her, rarely making an individual decision. It was all part of that group mind thing.

Big Mac, the AI, added, “I was no less surprised. I’ve kept a careful surveillance on all the exits since Shaft 6 was closed. No offense, Ms Carson, but I find it disturbing you can, and have, walked right pass all my remotes, without my sensors picking it up. As a matter of fact, until you allowed it, my camera here did not see a thing. However I must say I am pleased to see help arrive.”

The self-aware machine paused. “Alan, I take it we can speak freely in front of her?”

Alan still had that bad little school boy grin she first remembered seeing on his face years ago when they met in DC during the Meridian Senate Investigation Hearings. “You bet Big Mac. Trust me! It’s difficult keeping secrets from her so I don’t bother. Whatever you need to say, let us have it.”

Sounding a bit rumpled, the computer continued, “Well yes. As you know, I have continued my efforts to discover what is in Shaft 6 as well as trying to piece together why Project Meridian was reactivated. Even with Ollie’s help, I have been unable to find any hard data. However upon examination of the power usage I have found some information.”

“Whatever is causing that progressive power drain was indeed moved to Shaft 6. It is drawing more and more energy. Without access to the raw data, I am handicapped in making exact calculations, but demands will outpace the available supply in approximately two weeks. I stress this is a very rough figure. The power flow has changed several times for reasons I can‘t even guess at.”

“Just as worrying is for the last week, I’ve tracked a lot of activity in the amphitheater area during the midnight hours. Persons of interest such as Doctor McClellan and General Laramie were spotted there. Power demands in that area has been most particular at those hours, with at times energy being added to the grid even though according to my records there isn’t a power generator present.”

“Again, I can only surmise that is that it the Z-ray devise you told me about. If that guess is correct, it has been activated 30 times in the last week, six times a night over five days.”

Her lover ran his hands through his short cut hair that she knew he hated. It was only one of many sacrifices he’d made to maintain his cover. It was the pain on his face that told the real story of his anguish. True, it was only a glimpse that he kept hidden behind that iron self-control of his. But Maggie was there when as Val, this person she so loved, had let it all out in great weeping sobs.

Other adults might have memories of childhood nightmares of boogiemen in the closet or under their bed. Val’s nightmares were real. That thing had directly or indirectly caused the death of the brother he worshiped as well as the friends, who were brothers and sisters of the heart. It was that damn Z-ray thing, and its masters were threatening to use it again, this time on another group of children.

A puzzled Alan said, “I knew that ’Lying-to-Me Laramie’ couldn’t be trusted and was probably planning on using the Z-ray on the kids anyways. What I don’t understand is why all these tests. From what I remember that thing is dangerous as all hell, and gave the techs the willies every time they cranked it up. It sounds like they were doing full power run-ups. They never did that before. The only tests were at low power and that was only right before they strapped us down to zap us. For all the world it sounds like the thing is actually being used, but on who? It’s not the kids, and it can’t be Max’s clones because they don’t last more than about 15 or 20 minutes before they derezz.”

Her lover sighed. “Just what we needed, another mystery. I’ve got the training schedule for next week. If I’m reading between the lines right, we’re safe this week. The teamwork exercises and simulations are pretty important if Laramie is planning to use the kids against whatever is going to happen in two weeks.

Assuming I’m right, we’re going to have to be careful during the weekend. That is the most likely time for them to try to use the Zapper on the kids. One week before hand would give them time to recover and get used to having more power. That jives with the figures you‘ve given us about that power drain, but please keep us informed of any more changes.”

“The good news is Maggie here is real good with machines, and this wouldn’t be her first time playing surgeon. That takes care of our implant worries, but getting you, Big Mac, out is something else again. Maggie?” Alan asked.

Maggie smiled. How like Alan to take everyone’s abilities into account. “Alan my brief training as a paramedic might be okay playing battlefield medic. But surgeon? If the devices aren’t too deep I can probably dig them out and of course, any of the electronics should be easy. But if there are any clockwork booby-traps, I could set them off.”

“The reason it took me three days to descend that damn launch silo was because of the mechanical traps. I wasn’t expecting that and it damn near got me killed,” she said, shaking her head. “The thing was designed by some raving paranoid maniac, but the electronics thankfully were years out of date. The real killers were the tripwires and booby-traps. The whole network is on a gantry-like arm. Initiating the launch sequence swings it up and out of the way, but when it’s locked down it's one hell of a maze to get through. If I hadn’t the mixture of talents I have, I doubt I could have made it.”

Maggie didn’t miss the look Alan and Ollie shared, but she continued. “If the implants are similarly designed, I’ll need to build something to let me examine them real carefully first. As for you, Big Mac, I’ll need to see your hardware requirements, but that shouldn’t be a problem. What is a concern is power. When we move you, you’ll be on a time limit until we can find another source. I understand simply storing your program and restarting cold can damage or alter the self-awareness of AI’s.”

“Also, forgive me for saying this, but I would be committing an act of insanity if I didn’t include some sort of safety protocols. Ever since your near accident back in 1983, and that Sky-Shield debacle a few years ago, no one is going to let an AI loose without taking some damn good precautions,” she said, crossing her arms for emphasis, looking at everyone in the room, making sure they knew this point wasn’t up for debate.

Big Mac replied, sounding a bit miffed, “At least in my case it was an accident. I do object to being compared to Sky-Shield. I made an honest mistake, whereas it had deliberately set out to try to destroy the human race. It was a raving paranoid that saw everyone as its enemy. Thankfully it was defeated and those strange temporal artifacts that allowed its construction were locked in one of the high security vaults.”

Pausing and sounding more humble the intelligent machine concluded, “Since I had no prospects of ever leaving here, I accept your provision of safeguards. You have no idea of how trying it is for an intelligence of my caliber, designed for game theory, to do nothing but run maintenance programs and robots.”

Maggie nodded. “Sounds like we have an agreement Big Mac.

Alan looked pleased. “Alright that’s one more item off the checklist. Now that just leaves Ollie.”

The Gray alien in a warning tone replied, “Alan, you know why I can’t go.”

Her lover held up his hands in surrender. “Ollie, right now we have more talent and skills here than we’ve ever had before. We have to try.”

Maggie looked at one, and then the other, wondering what they were talking about. She cut Big Mac’s camera and speaker a glance, but Big Mac wasn’t saying a thing.

“Alright you two! Would either of you mind letting me in on what you’re arguing about?” the tall modeling executive ordered.

Alan said softy, “It’s not my story to tell. That’s up to Ollie. Better you should show her.”

Ollie held his over large head low. “It is a very personal matter, but Alan is correct that it’s better seen than explained. I know you have had an exhausting experience reaching us. Are you up to coming with us now or would you rather wait?”

She gestured her assent, thankful that one of the advantages of being such a high level supra was rapid powers of recovery. Standing, she and Alan followed the Gray as he led them down the utility and service tunnel.

Giving them the tour, Ollie explained, “These tunnels circle and crisscross the entire complex, providing access to all the communications and services runs. You can reach almost any part of Area 61 from these with the exception of the Vaults. They are monitored, but I have long ago co-opted those systems. I’ve even helped keep everything in running order to prevent human workers from wandering around back here.”

“They have come to think the complex is haunted. Do you believe that?” he sent, shaking his head.

Tapping the buttons of a small device, that had begun life as a cell phone, he opened a maintenance door into what appeared to be a viewing lounge of some sort. The furnishings had that VIP look to it.

Maggie reaching out with her cyber-sense could tell the entry way was heavily secured, but that it was really more for looks than security. Alan directed her up to the raised platform.

Ollie stood before the podium in silence a moment before speaking. “The humans here often disrespectfully refer to this as the Side Show.”

The Gray took a cobbled together cipher-keycard and slid it into the podium.

With a hiss, the entire rear wall rolled up with a rumble. Floating inside separate vats were the damaged preserved bodies of six Gray aliens.

Maggie having something to compare Ollie against now could see how he was different from what she thought of as normal Grays. Three of the aliens were obviously taller and more muscular while the other three were smaller and had larger craniums.

Pressing his slim six-fingered hand against the thick glass-like material opposite the smaller figures, he sent, “These are my parents.”

Then rather creepily, he acted as if he was introducing her and Alan to them. “This is Maggie Carson and of course you remember Alan Glenn. Yes, it seems he did finally decide to settle down and mate. It is the old argument. He wants me to leave, but I will not go without you. I know your views, but refuse them for the same reasons I do his.”

Maggie shivered. As bizarre, as the entire scene was, her cyber-sense was sensing something. The activity was different from what she’d picked up before from dealing with the aliens. It was almost as if she was near a computer, but like it was using another very unusual language. Which didn’t make much sense to her, because as advanced as the Grays were, their computer security was piss-poor.

That was because their machines had interfaces to make use of their telepathy. Because of their group mind mentality, security measures were unneeded and just slowed processing. It was an Achilles’ Heel that human hackers had joyfully taken advantage of.

Ollie turned back to them with a smile that she’d never seen on a Gray before. “No Maggie I’m not crazy, at least by human standards. By my own people’s, I am afraid they consider me stark raving insane. Let me explain.”

“My parents and I are of the Thinker or Scientist cast. As such, at my coming of age ceremony, I would have been implanted with a storage matrix to record and preserve my thoughts and discoveries for future generations upon my eventual death. Of course that didn’t happened because of being marooned here, but my parent’s Matrixes are here, and in a way I can communicate with them.”

The small figure looked so forlorn. “After their bodies died, it was the only way I could be with them. It was not until years later, when The Rocketeers found me that I made my first friends. However, you see all those years virtually alone had scarred me. Although I can sense the group mind when it is close, I cannot merge or participate in it. I’ve become too much of an individual.”

With fierce determination he emoted, “These are all that is left of my loved ones. I will not leave them. I won’t!”

Alan took her hand. “This isn’t glass but transparent PlasSteel. It is over a foot thick and despite appearances, it is all one seamless piece. Their bodies are really in the Vaults and this is just a window to the outside. You see, their Matrixes can interact with the outside world but not well. It mostly comes across to us as unexplained and spooky stuff. So even before Doc got in on the act down here, they were locked up because they scared the dickens out of folks. They’ve stayed locked up because they are the only examples of Gray Thinkers we‘ve seen.”

“During the invasion we only saw the soldier and worker casts. The other casts tend to be protected, but the Thinkers being more creative are also more independent. Ollie’s parents needed to see Earth’s conditions for themselves because the other casts miss seeing things. That’s how their saucer got nailed by the Air Force at Roswell.”

Maggie trying to take in all the information shook her head. “How come they didn’t find these Matrix things during the autopsy? You can’t tell me they didn’t perform one.”

Alan nodded. “They did. No one understood what they were looking at. It was just too alien. The thing is, for most of Ollie’s life they were the only contact he’s had with his parents. Like you’ve heard him say, he won’t leave without them.”

Grinning humorlessly Alan pointed out, “You see that’s the kicker. Each casket weights nearly a ton, and there are three of them. Not to mention they’re in the Vaults, so while we might be able to get in, doing so quietly is something else again. Then we have to get them out but we can’t use the maintenance tunnels because of their size. We could always interfere with their surveillance, but we will almost certainly be running into live people and guards. The Buggy isn’t set up for cargo, but if we do somehow reconfigure it, we won’t have any room for passengers. That’ll mean fighting our way to the cargo elevator and then more fighting to get them to something big enough to carry them.”

“I’ve thought about removing their matrixes in the Vault, but there is a certain way that needs to be done. Moreover, removing the bodies from the tanks is going to be messy with all that liquid. All that takes time and I don’t think we’ll have very much of that after smashing our way in. Besides, Ollie has absorbed many of our ways of doing things and wants the bodies treated respectfully. I can understand that, you know?”

“With you with us, we might be able to sneak in and out of there, but again that won’t buy us much time. We might be able to convince the little guy to let us go for just the Matrixes, and that will let us use the service tunnels to get away. That will also let us get everyone out in the Buggy.

"However, now that you’ve had such a hard time getting in pass the launch silo’s security, maybe we need to double-check whether that way out is as safe as I thought it was. I wouldn’t put it pass Doc to have let us get out all those times. I probably don’t need to remind you that there is a big bad nuke down here primed to make sure nothing escapes.”

He shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry love to put all this on you, but I’ve got a bad feeling about what’s out there in Shaft Six. It’s like if I don’t get everyone out, something really bad is going to happen.” A tear trickled down a cheek.

Maggie softly touched his face. She knew his being Alan for so long was a painful ordeal for him. “Don’t worry love. Wasn’t it you who told me doing the difficult was simple but the impossible is a little harder? We’ll work it out.”

Alan gave her his patented devil-may-care grin which she knew was mostly a just a well practiced act. That is, mostly. Her lover had been known to take some of the most hare-brained chances. Only the smiling face of fate allowed this person she loved so much to jauntily walk away from ruin.

She also knew that if Alan was making like the Oracle of Delphi the wise woman listened. It wasn’t exactly like a premonition. Just like the ability to know when the luck was on their side, her lover could tell when the winds were going to blow the other way. The last time something had triggered his Cassandra of Troy routine so strongly, they’d end up fighting off an alien invasion.

Maggie shuddered. Now that had been a nightmare trip. It’d been a few days before the Fourth of July, and Val had insisted they needed to go to Kazakhstan, now. In the movie, ‘The Marvels’ they made it look so cool when the kid had run on water, leaving a plume of spray behind him. The film director needed to try it across the Bering Strait in July while being carried. She’d promised herself, she would never ever do that again!

Stepping up close to the armored transparent wall to get a good look at what she’d to work with, she gently touched the small Gray’s shoulder. “We will get them out.”

Stretching out her cyber-esper senses Maggie lightly probed about, careful not to touch those Matrix things. Her talent was machines, and she didn’t want to be disoriented by the alien intelligences. She immediately knew why Ollie had to come here to converse with his parents. The walls had quartz imbedded within. It was a simple, yet effective barrier to Esper abilities. It was long known that areas with large deposits of quartz had much higher instances of hauntings and other psychic phenomena. That was because it was a conductor of sorts. Properly shaped and tuned quartz crystals could be used amplify Esper powers. In this case, however, the minerals in the walls acted like an extrasensory Faraday Cage.

Grimacing, Maggie pushed her powers through the barrier. The quartz couldn’t keep her out but it served to diffuse her talent, making it harder. She felt Alan at her side but being long familiar with how she worked, just gave her his silent support.

Once through the barrier her senses glided over the contents within. Like a fine mist, they touched everything, and she turned her attention to the vault door. It was what differentiated her talent from other psychics. Her instructors many years ago at the Academy had to have known she’d been holding back on them, but even then, she had different plans for her future than they. Still she’d learned much about how her unique aptitude operated while in attendance.

Her four years there had been a wild roller coaster ride beyond any of her expectations as well as achievements. The school had always been called simply the Academy. Its history went back to the founding of the new nation, and could even be traced back further before it moved from the continent because of political problems. Many countries couldn’t or wouldn’t honor the neutral status its board of directors required.

Although rocky at times, the Academy had thrived in the new world. Its purpose was to educate and train those who’d been gifted with abilities beyond their peers. Once admitted onto the grounds, you were safe from all outside influences. While they did try to instill a sense of ethics, it did not matter if the child was from hero or criminal parentage. They would be treated as equals and the neutral status of the Academy insured that the child wouldn’t be used against the parent or guardian.

The staff, most of them alumni themselves, were some of the most remarkable beings on the planet. As any parent could guess, they needed to be, given the trouble these gifted youngsters could get into as they learned about themselves and their powers. Even with the best staff imaginable, life on campus was, to say the least, interesting.

Of course, the Academy’s technical program was very progressive for the time. It had almost a dozen computers on the campus ranging from the large main frames to the novelty of the TRS 80 one student had brought back after Christmas break.

Maggie had kept the full extent of her powers to herself, despite her teachers knowing she was more capable then she let on, which wasn’t the same as not learning how to use them. She had already figured out she wanted to be a doer. Even with what little she'd showed the Lab rats, they'd wanted her to concentrate in the newly budding computer sciences.

Her telekinetic talent was rather weak being able to exert only a little over a pound of pressure. What put her in a class by herself was she had a sense of touch through her TK, a very informative sense that could literally feel the flow of electrons if she concentrated hard enough. Practice had given her an even finer touch, like now as she examined the vault’s locks. The designers had gone for a brute force design. No sophisticated gears or combinations for this one, meant to keep the spooky stuff locked within. All this needed was the right key and a powerful enough motor to spin it. From what she could tell, it was probably as big as a small car.

The alarm system was similarly simple, consisting of electrical contacts on the ends of the retracting bolts. Moving the bolts at all would open or close circuits alerting security. Getting to the contacts or the electrical supply would be difficult because they were buried within the armored vault door.

Opening her eyes from her intense concentration, Maggie smiled at the two looking to her for answers. “The answer is, yes, I can get in, but I’ll need my partner at ‘their’ best to pull it off,” she told them, passing the message along to Alan that she would need Val’s special talents.

Alan turned from her, looking at the caskets. “If you can get us inside quietly then you’ve solved one of the major problems. As for the caskets, I’ve been thinking. Could you build a pump to drain them out and then pump the fluid back in?

Maggie replied without a pause. “That wouldn’t be a problem. There are sensors within monitoring the preservatives but they can be bypassed. We would need something portable, big enough to hold all of that fluid though. Maybe an inflatable pool-like tank?”

Nearly as one, they turned to each other. “A storage bladder!”

Running with the idea Alan continued, “Then after we empty the bladder back into the caskets, we could use it as a shroud to take them out.”

Maggie going along with the brainstorming added, “Even better we could use the pump to vacuum seal each shroud. No oxygen, no decay. Designing everything shouldn’t be a problem but finding the materials down here to fabricate it all could be. I could bring them in from the outside but going down that shaft is pure hell. Dragging all that stuff with me would be a royal pain in the ass.”

Ollie, determined not to be left out of the rescue of his parents, added, “If necessary you can leave and get the materials. We can then stage another Strawberry shake run to Dad's and pick you and your equipment up on the way back. It would be simple to use the teleport pad to beam it to my lab.”

Maggie held up her hand. “Whoa! You have a transporter?”

Ollie shrugged. “Yes and no. There is one built into the ‘Rocket’, or the Buggy, as Alan calls it. For that matter, every Gray-built reaction-less drive has one. The device was intended for use outside a planetary gravity field. Inside of one, it is of short range and can only be used from one active teleport pad to another. For intra-vehicle transfers in space it is very useful, but not so much on a planet where you can easily walk the same distance. The biggest problem is that it is an effect of the reaction-less engine, meaning you have to at least have one to initiate the transport process, and although you don’t need one of the drives at the destination, you do need a considerable power supply for the receiving pad. At my lab I’ve tapped into the mains so power isn’t a problem.”

Maggie filed that information away for later saying, “It would still be better if we could avoid all of that and supply ourselves from down here. I need to take some measurements, but if Ollie can help me with his lab, workspace shouldn’t be much of an issue.”

“What will be an issue is the time constraint of how fast the pump can safely operate, plus the time I’ll need to work on the vault. We’ll also be toting a lot more gear than I would like. Pump, bladder, hoses, and whatever I end up needing for the vault. And I understand there’s a security station we’ll have to pass through?”

Alan and Ollie nodded as the little Gray sent, “Indeed, and another vault door just to get within the hallway to reach this one. It has a very secure cipher and key system. Opening it is much like the way missiles are launched, requiring two codes, keys, an outside cipher sequence as well as all three being entered at once.”

Maggie nodded her understanding of the system. “I’ll need to get a good look at it, before I can say for certain, but I think that’s doable too. What will be a problem is if there are any live guards. Alan?”

The ex-hero gave them a shrug. “There is always a pair at the security checkpoint leading to the Vaults. I’ve made a few contacts among the guards, but they’re generally a professional bunch. Convince them to bend a few regs to bring us some burgers and shakes, yes. Let us waltz into an ultra top-secret security area? Not so much.”

He banged his hand into the armored wall. “I wish we could just go in from here or from the service tunnels, but that would just make covering up our tracks impossible. There is just too damn much armor and where that isn’t, there’s twice as much rock.”

Alan sighed. “The guards patrol every 30 minutes. I can take them out so fast they won’t know what hit them, but I’m afraid we’ll need you, Ollie, to implant memories of the missing time. I know you don’t like messing around in folk’s heads but …,” he said, holding up his hands in helplessness.

Blinking her eyes Maggie tried to calculate if they could get away with this in less than a half hour. Both vault doors and alarms; the possibility of more alarms inside the secured area; Draining and refilling the caskets; sealing the bodies and escaping with them. And all the while hauling what was beginning to look like a cart of equipment with them.

She looked at Alan. “I take it you’re planning on placing some sort of counterfeit dummies back in the caskets? That’ll be even more weight and gear to lug in.”

He and Ollie gave each other a grin. “Well that part we had figured a long time ago. Back in the old Rocketeers days, Jeff and Alicia made up some great look-a-likes just for something like this. Ollie took good care of them, and they’re in excellent condition.”

His face fell a little as he remembered. “Back then, we’d always planned to bust out of this joint with Ollie, but we didn’t want to become criminals. There wasn’t a place we could go for sanctuary.”

Maggie gave him a gentle hug. “There is now. You helped make it, and there is no reason to feel any guilt about the past.”

Alan returned it saying, “I am concerned about the kids and their parents. We both know what kind of bastards we’re dealing with. The courts will doubtlessly in time throw out any case ULTIMATE brings against the kids, but who knows what will happen to them in the meanwhile? But, if we take them with us to sanctuary, we’re making choices for them that can’t be taken back. We burned our bridges a long time ago. Do we have the right to burn theirs too?”

She gave her life mate a searching gaze. “We do what caring adults have always done for children; making the best decisions we can at the time. If worse comes to worse we can always adopt them. It’ll give us something to keep us busy while we work at having more children the old fashioned way.”

The love in his eyes was plain as he said, “We did say we both wanted a big family. I think I can safely say my cover will be well and truly blown by the time this is finished. Well that should make a certain pair of prospective grandparents very happy. Sanctuary here we come. That is if we can get everyone out of here, which is beginning to look like a real tough trick.

Ollie plainly curious at what they were talking about asked, “Sanctuary? I don’t suppose that either of you would care to elaborate?”

Even as tired as she was, Maggie had to laugh as she and Alan blushed, remembering they weren’t alone. She just raised an eyebrow at Alan’s questioning look. Ollie was his friend, and it was up to him as to how much to tell him.

Her lover smiled. “Ollie, without going into details, it is beautiful, with tall snow covered peaks while the valleys below are rich with the blossoms of golden apples. Paradise Ollie.”

Together the three of them headed back to the service tunnels as Alan spoke once more, “Paradise.”

Chapter 30

Area 61 Testing range Delta

September 22, 2008

ETWF: Minus 10 Days

The cool desert morning air made Staff Sergeant Henry Green very happy about his experimental desert uniform. Not everything they tried to load him down with was very practical, but the uniform materials did an excellent job of keeping him warm when cold and cool when hot. Something that any soldier could appreciate.

He and his spotter were nearly perfectly camouflaged as they stalked closer to their firing point. In theory, for the actual mission, they would be prepositioned in a sniper’s hide, but his years of experience had taught him never to take anything for granted. Besides this was good training as well; seeing just how well this new gear worked.

Lance Corporal Hennessy, his spotter, kept watch as he brought his 35 .lb XM-111 into position. The massive weapon seemed too huge to be called a rifle. Firing a 25mm projectile, it was officially an anti-materiel rifle. It’s predecessor, the XM-109, had a recoil so bad it was deemed “exceeding a human’s limitations.” The newer weapon had been redesigned with an advanced recoil dampening system that increased the weight of the already heavy piece another 2 lbs.

Last week’s exercises had proved to Sergeant Green that if the BFG (Big Frakking Gun) recoil was better now, he never wanted to fire the older weapon. The recoil was one cast iron bitch, however he couldn’t argue with the results. He wasn’t a small man by anyone’s standards, but lugging the BFG around was a royal pain in the ass.

Once he’d seen what it could do to a target he’d become a believer. In the last week he’d serviced a wide variety of targets out on the ranges in this Gawd forsaken desert, helicopters, trucks, armored personnel carriers, and others. Hell he’d even nailed a few of those powered armored suit things just coming into service.

He got a grim pleasure from seeing some of the blue ULTIMATE’s Enforcer suits among his targets. It’d made no difference to the 25mm rounds. They were equal opportunity, punching big nasty holes in them all.

Flicking a switch his SRVS (Super Resolution Vision System) targeting scope came to life. A lifetime of being behind a rifle butt made his acquiring the target almost a Zen-like activity. At this distance, the slightest breath or tremor could make the scope picture jump all over the place. Meditatively, he heard Hennessy call out the range and wind conditions. Without conscious thought, it was as if the BFG had fired itself.

Sergeant Green knew before his spotter had said anything that it had been a good shot. He always knew when everything had pulled together perfectly. His hands were already snapping the scope covers shut getting ready to move. One of the problems was the damn thing was so big, that when it fired, everyone knew where it’d come from. When operating way the hell away from friendlies that was not a good thing. Time to scoot before the enemy could acquire them!

Both men did just that in a high crawl, seeking to avoid trouble before blending into the background again. Neither tried to think too much about the target silhouette they’d just plastered. The big brass had been mum about the exact details of the mission they were training for.

All they and the other three sniper teams had been told was of possible terrorist attack on a top-secret installation. They had an approximate window the attack was expected, and if all went well, some warning. Scuttlebutt had it that it was some badass super villain, while rumor control had an entire gang of them were coming. If and when something, anything, made the mistake of attacking a US base, they would rue the day. That, Sergeant Green and his fellow snipers, would guarantee.

General Robert Laramie sat down in his executive office chair, overlooking the rest of Area 61’s department heads for his Monday morning situation brief. He couldn’t resist looking to see if that idiot Glenn was going to try to crash it like he did last week. With a grunt, he relaxed when nothing happened, a bit disappointed. He rather enjoyed watching the smart-mouth get frog-marched away but it seemed even Glenn could learn. Satisfied that everything was in order he gave a nod for the meeting to proceed.

Clearing his throat, Dr. McClellan began, “I’ll start with the status of Operation Kiloton. For the purposes of security Capt. Blazzar and the status of Looking Glass has been code named Operation Kiloton. The power drain continues although I did manage to momentarily slow it by further fine tuning the Looking Glass projector. Unfortunately I believe we’ve done all we can using that avenue. The revised estimated time for the wormhole failure is now 14 days.”

“I must stress that the last week before the collapse will be of high risk, given how unpredictably the power fluctuates within the wormhole. That risk will only increase, as we get closer to the point of no return. The construction of the trolley from Shaft 6 to the test range has been completed, as has the Pit designed to drain away and dampen as much of Kiloton’s energies as possible. In summary, we‘re on schedule to force the collapse of the Wormhole three days earlier than the expected failure of Looking Glass, at a time of our choosing. ”

“Project Meridian is actually somewhat ahead of schedule with simulator and teamwork exercises due to begin this week. Captain Vroom has requested use of the Geode cavern to make use of the larger area for training. Unless you have an objection, I’m going to grant them access.”

“As for the condition of the candidates, it is excellent. All six members have gained an enormous amount of control over their abilities, and except for some minor incidents, are coming together as a team. A point of concern is they appear to have gained an increasing resistance to mental influence. Dr. Hathaway will present a more in-depth report during her portion of this brief. Our preliminary analysis, since The Rocketeers also exhibited such resistance, is that the only point in common is Alan Glenn. We can only surmise that he has some talent that conveys immunity to Psionic abilities to those in close proximity. He always has been unreadable by our specialists, but was thought to be one of those naturally difficult for those with the talent to read.”

“However, seeing that the damage is already done and his part in the program is nearly at an end anyways, we recommend he be left to continue. It has been brought up by some of the staff that his excellent rapport with the candidates might be related to this unusual ability of his.”

“The final phase of Meridian is prepared and ready. The Z-Ray 13 exposure is scheduled for next Saturday during their usual weekly checkup and testing. Plans have been made to separate Alan Glenn from the subjects by subterfuge. He’ll be put and kept under detention until after Kiloton has been dealt with and sent on his way. Despite his resistance to Psionic and Esper talents, our staff has a high degree of confidence in the neuralizer to remove his memories of the last several weeks since it works on entirely different principles than mental talents.”

General Laramie kept his face in his normal scowl, but he wanted to soundly curse Glenn and all the damn problems he caused just by existing. Pettily, he enjoyed the thought of the troublemaker wandering about clueless about what he’d been doing the last couple of weeks with a big fat government paycheck in his pocket. As anti-establishment as he was the very idea of working for the greater good would drive him nuts.

The thing was, the eggheads had gotten it wrong again. Whatever Glenn had done to make the candidates immune to the mind twisters wasn’t trivial at all. It’d greatly complicated plans for post-Kiloton operations. With firm control, the subjects could’ve been most useful in any number of areas, given their abilities; invisibility, shape-changing, weather manipulation, and the rest.

Now, he inwardly sighed, that wasn’t feasible. At any rate, their parents would be receiving a notice of an unfortunate vehicular accident while on a school field trip killing all the passengers. The Doctor would be further testing his suspended animation apparatus it seemed. Considering the vast increase in power that was being forecast after use of the Z-Ray 13, he couldn’t just neuralize them and send them home. Disposing of them would be a shameful waste of resources, but putting them on ice until the next time they were needed was a good solution. Besides, there was also the possibility some other way to control them would be developed. Until then there was Project Hydra.

The General spoke up. “How about the status of Project Hydra Doctor?”

The senior scientist looked over his glasses at the cause of the interruption. “I was just coming to that. As you know Project Hydra was one of happenstance, taking advantage of the authorization for use of the Z-Ray 13, the release of Saul Simpson, Maxi-Badd, and the experimental stasis capsules.”

It was a great opportunity to study Mr. Simpson and his ability to create energy doubles of others, but it was limited by their temporary existence. Not an exact science, the clones lasted between 20 minutes and a half-hour before they lost cohesion and dissipated. This of course made studying them awkward.”

“The stasis capsules were a fortunate development made from studying artifacts from the alien Gray invasion. Rather than rely on chemical or temperature to achieve suspended animation, this process insulates the occupant from the very time-stream itself. This technology is much more advanced than our own, and although we can use and duplicate it, the exact how and why it works is still beyond us.”

“However, the capsules gave us the perfect chance to study Mr. Simpson’s creations in depth without them disappearing like soap bubbles. The stasis capsules worked perfectly and we didn’t lose a single specimen. Not even the one that temporarily escaped custody and had to be very near its expiration point.”

“It’s my theory that Mr. Simpson somehow has access to the same sort of energy that the Z-Ray 13 produces. Being much weaker, his power produces a shadow of the original donor using himself as the base template. That is why they all look like him and have his memories but have the powers and talents of those he touches.”

“I surmised that if these shadows could be further energized they might stabilize into true matter rather than the fleeting proto-matter. Our first six exposures weren’t successful in achieving stabilization, but did give us the crucial data we needed for the next step in our investigations.”

“Our second series of experiments confirmed our hypothesis. All six subjects successfully made the transition from a temporary energy form to true matter! Our examination of the twenty-four specimens who survived has given us a wealth of information we’re still studying.”

“The initial findings indicate that each doppelganger has the donor's powers, and general physical characteristics. The appearance is of Mr. Simpson, under those restrictions, as well as having his memories and general personality. However we’ve already seen where each group of clones, as defined by their donors, are developing different personality traits.”

“Unfortunately, we lost several specimens who were unable to deal with their rather radical changes. Dr. Hathaway will go into more detail during her brief, but in summary, the ones most affected were those who’d had a perceived change in gender. Since all of Saul Simpson’s clones have his vulnerability to mental suggestions, Dr. Hathaway has developed an effective treatment”

“The Stage 3 experiment has provided even more information about the supra-human power phenomena, although it failed to achieve its objectives. When we tried to give one of the stabilized subjects another exposure of Z-Ray 13 to supercharge its supra-abilities, it behaved exactly as an adult would. As you know there is a critical period ranging from two to three years after a candidate initially mutates that they are much more likely to respond favorably to the Z-Ray.”

“An adult undergoing the Z-Ray process, even that of the latest generation, has a much greater chance of not only of death, but of unfavorable mutations. That is unfortunately what happened to subject 20. She mutated into a form unable to sustain life and expired despite our medical teams best efforts.”

“Given that failure I recommend we discontinue the rest of Stage 3. However without being able to use the Z-Ray 13 to boost their abilities, they have roughly the same power levels as their donors at present,” Dr. McClellan said apologetically.

The General had with an act of pure will managed to sit through all of that gobbly-gook. Didn’t the man understand what the word summary meant? Restraining his impatience he asked, “How many effective bodies does that leave us with and are they mission ready?”

Not expecting such blunt question, the Doctor pushed his glasses up responding, “That is a question best answered by Dr. Hathaway. Doctor?” he asked her.

Not disturbed at all by being singled out, she stood. “Sir, my report goes into more detail and explanation, but at this very moment, none. They haven’t any training working together, coupled with the fact that they have just undergone an extreme psychological shock.

Dr. Hathaway turned on her charm. “However, we have 19 remaining subjects, 12 males and 7 females. I can transfer the experiences, of the clones training with our Project Meridian candidates, to them. Eight of the males will be ready by mid-week. The four William Riegel clones will require additional attention, as will all the girls. Since I am essentially reprogramming them with new personalities, it will take time. I am aware of the deadline and will do my best. However, while I will try to have them ready by Friday, it is more likely, that it’d be early next week before they’ll are be mission ready.

"This also means, since I’ll be spending all of my time with Project Hydra, Alan Glenn will be managing Meridian without me. His unreliability could cause problems. I would like to suggest, since we do have Project Hydra and of how much more dependable it appears they’re going to become, that Project Meridian be halted after the teamwork exercises.

That would allow me to spend that time safely with Hydra and simplify matters with Meridian. Without any exposure to the Z-Ray device, the children can be returned to their families without any sort of cover-up. Alan Glenn would not have any gaps in his memory to probe at and potentially cause problems later on. We can simply close the book and say the Chiron Project failed because of costs overruns. Nice, neat and no questions, while we’ll still have the 19 Hydra subjects no one is aware of.” Finishing, she sat.

General Laramie paused while he seriously considered her suggestion. It did have much to recommend it and did solve a number of potential problems. Except one. “Dr. Hathaway, thank you for bringing that up but I must insist we go ahead with Meridian. Quantity does have a quality all of its own, but despite Project Hydra’s numbers, they can’t be further empowered.

“With Project Meridian’s candidates having the projected potential of gaining up 20 times their present ability I cannot justify halting the schedule. The possible lost of life and property if Kiloton escapes would be a huge catastrophe. He is simply too dangerous for half-measures. We will continue. Dr. McClellan, please resume your briefing.”

To be continued.

More of Captain Vroom!

Chapter 31

September 22, 2008

ETWF: Minus 10 Days

Tonopah, NV

ULTIMATE Investigation Team Field Headquarters at the Valley Inn.

Inspector Philippe Imbert rolled his eyes as he savored the perfectly prepared croissant. Perhaps it spent far too long traveling in an atrocious brown bag, but all considered he was willing to make allowances.

Suspiciously, he eyed his assistant Andrea, who was standing attentively nearby. Their hostel, turned team headquarters, was grating upon them all. The previous week had been frustrating for his entire team as they searched fruitlessly for signs of their quarry. All of them had spent far too much time combing not just the town of Tonopah but the surrounding areas as well. The sunburns and squints were all they had gotten for their efforts despite generous helpings of sunscreen and the required dark sunglasses.

Andrea and the more computer-wise agents had been working the Zolotoye-Yablochko angle, but it seemed they had exhausted that avenue. The Savitskiy family valued its privacy and besides a few tantalizing clues they had found nothing of value. For that matter, the entire so-called city-state of Mutant-stan was rampantly paranoid about security.

Philippe finished the last bite of his tasty breakfast, but his suspicions grew as he considered the problem. For the last two weeks, he and the rest of the team had been surviving on the local restaurant fare. While even he had to admit there had been some exceptions to the rather bland greasy food, Tonopah was after all a fairly small city.

It had surprised him that one of those surprising gastronomic delights had gone by the unlikely name of Dad’s. The old-fashioned American drive-in had been an accidental find while his agents had been investigating an UFO report. Along with the astonishingly good food, were the just as amazing news that it had been Alan Glenn and the students from Project Chiron.

The old Rocketeers team transport had been easy to identify as the UFO since the inside of the classic drive-in had mountains of old photographs of the teenage heroes from the 70‘s. It seemed this was not the first time the bright silver racing-striped saucer had visited the old landmark restaurant. The owner had a wall of fame dedicated to the supra-teens, ranging from pictures with the present owner, who had been a youth covered in freckles, to newspaper articles of their adventures. However, the latest one, of an older Alan Glenn and this newest group of children, was taken only a few days ago.

Looking over the photo-covered wall, another one that caught his attention was of young Glenn in front of a massive bowl of ice cream. His grinning teammates were holding up a newspaper behind him with the slogan ‘You Can’t Put a Speed Limit on Justice!’ The Air Force officer standing to the side looked particularly unhappy.

That is when it drew his eye. Going back and checking the recent picture, sure enough there was the same 10 to 12 year old boy with a huge cup that was in most of the older photos too. The Inspector had shaken his head. Yet another mystery among the many that seemed to flock to their suspect.

Which didn’t answer the question of how a nearly perfect croissant had appeared before him. Logic dictated that it had to come from that charming French restaurant in Las Vegas, but while that culinary delight had spent far too much time traveling, it was not three hours worth. Of that, he was certain.

His requests for additional support had gone unanswered. Not even for so much as a single helicopter, so the mystery remained. Philippe could tell that Andrea and the rest of his agents were enjoying their little tweak of his deductive skills. He was rather glad that their spirits were still high after the latest rounds of frustration in their investigations.

Theatrically sighing, he asked, “How?” as he spread his hands, indicating the just as delicious coffee and empty food wrappers.

The team of agents broke out into wide grins as Andrea replied, “I have an old friend from Office training that is assigned to Supra-Reaction Team One‘s support group. They’re doing desert training operating near Nellis Air Force Base. I had him pick it up and fly it in this morning.”

“He also told me another friend of ours was near here too. That one is part of the Heavy Assault Brigade driving a dropship.” She stopped, noticing his anger but not understanding why. There was no reason why she should. It was a matter of office politics.

It was now obvious why his requests for support had not been answered. He and his people who had worked so hard on this assignment had been cut out of the loop. There could be many reasons why, but the only reason to keep his people here, rather than send them elsewhere, was distasteful in the extreme. It suggested that acts of dubious legality or risk were in the works and it was he and his who were going to take the blame if something went wrong.

Inspector Philippe Imbert forced himself to smile, dispelling his agents’ sudden apprehensions. They were not to blame, but a cold determination filled him to make certain that those responsible for what he feared was going to be disastrous events paid for every drop blood they caused to be spilled.

Miami, FL

Beach Front Hilton

Pyotr Savitskiy stepped out of his cool hotel room into the balmy air of Miami, Fl. They’d arrived in the States the day before and would be heading out today. His friends were waiting for him on the veranda. He grinned as he saw their various reactions to his loud Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts.

All 160 kilos of Ivan dominated the table where they sat. He was huge in the way Japanese Sumo and American wrestlers were. Muscles rippled under his conservative polo shirt, and completely hid his gentle nature. Pyotr knew the huge man would much rather be gardening and tending to his florist shop back in Zolotoye-Yablochko. His ability to work with plants, while seemingly of little use in a military operation, had proven itself many times over. From fouling water supplies to causing seeds to sprout within the very bellies of their enemies, Ivan was much more dangerous than his obvious size.

Katrina sitting next to him, stirring her StarBucks coffee, looked positively small and petite, belying her cliché Russian female body builder physique. Her short blond hair and fair complexion contrasted greatly with Ivan’s dark hirsuteness. Pyotr knew that the loose blouse and baggies she wore concealed a not so small arsenal of deadly weapons. Katrina was what the Special Forces community called ‘good with her hands’ which meant she was absolutely deadly with just about anything from knives to machine guns. As their weapons expert, you wouldn’t expect her to be a jewelry designer as well as the owner of her own shop.

Then there was Bob. The rather overweight, atypical computer geek looked like the last person in the world you would find on a special operations team. He could and did keep up with the rest of them and had run normal humans into exhaustion. Rather like a camel or blubber on a whale, he stored energy as fat but that had nothing to do with his physical conditioning. In fact, he was their strong man, as well as native guide, since he was an American immigrant to Zolotoye-Yablochko. It was his computer and covert operations skills that’d provided them with ID, credit cards and all the other details of their covers, as part of his normal duties in the Militia’s Intelligence branch.

The last person of his little command was ignoring him as he followed a bevy of bikini-clad beauties with his eyes as they sauntered to the pool. Pyotr couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s hopeless optimism. Arghun was rather unusual, being a Kazakh native in Zolotoye-Yablochko, while most of the other inhabitants were from literally all over. The small dark man carried himself as proudly as the Mongolian kings, he claimed he was descended from. Of course that may be because he was all but indestructible, and for that matter, no one was sure just how old the tough Kazakh really was. What was certain was he was one of the most deadly hand-to-hand fighters Pyotr had ever seen, which seemed so out of character, for a man always ready with a smile and good-humored jests.

Looking up as if he had just noticed Pyotr’s arrival, which Pyotr knew was a complete lie because he was positive Arghun knew the precise location of everyone within 50 meters, the Kazakh grinned broadly. “Pyotr!”

Inclining his dark haired head at the departing scantily clad American women Arghun exclaimed, “I know that I said after the last time you invited me along on one of your little jaunts, never to include me again. Your request for me to join you for a little vacation here in wonderful America as you visited your sister didn’t include telling me that it would involve pushing me out of our transport over the frigid seas.”

Looking at his teammates for support, he continued. “Over 40km from land! Then we had to swim in, avoiding all those unfriendly drug runners and policemen. I tell you poor Bob looks positively famished,” he said, pointing at the intelligence operative.

Bob nodded sagely in agreement, as he devoured another donut from the courtesy counter.

Arghun paused for breath. “However after a good nights rest and seeing the marvelous scenery, I’m almost ready to forgive you. So where is this sister? Is she good looking this sister of yours? Wouldn’t happen to live on the beach would she? ”

Still grinning inside, Pyotr made himself give a sad shrug. “Now Arghun you’ve met Valentina before.”

The smaller man made a show of thinking hard.

Ivan rumbled out, helpfully joining in the game, “You know the one from the Christmas party.”

Arghun waved his hands about in mock frustration. “Which party?”

Katrina dryly added to the conversation. “How about the one where you drunkenly tried to bet a young lady that you could get her out of her clothes faster than she could?”

The Kazakh’s eyes widen in denial. “Not the one where she stripped me bare in the middle of the party in front of everyone!”

Bob shook his head in disagreement. “No, as I remember, she did leave you your boxers.”

Arghun protested, “But those weren’t even mine! I’d never seen those before.”

“Of course they weren’t,” Ivan agreed. “What kind of man would wear underwear loudly proclaiming ‘Hunk O’ Burning Love?”

Looking forlorn Arghun asked sadly, “This is the sister we’re going to see?”

Pyotr letting his grin show replied jovially, “I’m sure Valentina has forgiven you by now. It’s been 12 years since then and she usually doesn’t harbor grudges for more than 10. Although I don’t think she’s forgiven me yet for exchanging the labels of a can of purple hair tint with her hair spray on her first date.”

Katrina looking scandalized demanded, “How could you?”

Pyotr gave another expressive Russian shrug. “I was her older brother. Such things were expected. Besides I don’t think that poor boy noticed what color her hair was, but Valentina didn’t see it that way.”

Interested Bob leaned forward. “So what did she do?”

Pyotr made a big show of sighing. “All my underwear disappeared. Even several pairs of prized novelty boxers imported at great cost from Las Vegas here in America. To this very day I’ve no idea what happened to them.”

His Kazakh friend sputtered playfully, “Well at least tell me she lives on the beach.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” Pyotr said, shaking his head slowly. “She’s incarcerated in a secret American military base in the middle of a forbidding desert. I’m sure its commissars won’t object to us paying her a visit. Can’t imagine what a sweet girl like her could’ve done to deserve such treatment.”

Arghun looked as if his heart was broken. “No beach? A prison? No doubt full of unpleasant guards with bad dispositions.” He hung his head miserably. “How could it get worse?”

Pyotr trying to cheer him up pointed out, “It won’t be that bad. We have a rental car and all of us will have a wonderful time on the four or 5-day road trip. What a wonderful way to experience America! See?”

Looking even more horrified, Arghun sputtered again. “Four or five days crammed in a car with everyone?” he said, looking at the group whom each out massed him at least two to one.

Ivan trying to help added, “It is a big car I’m told.”

Unable to keep straight faces any longer, they all erupted into laughter. Pyotr was proud to call them friends and thankful that all had put their own affairs on hold to help him. Like that old American spy drama, if they got into trouble they were on their own. While in many ways, this was a personal matter, there were also national security elements for their so small country.

If the Americans were experimenting on mutants again, the only nation on the planet consisting almost entirely of mutants needed to know all the details. Whatever was going on had also caused ULTIMATE to reposition several of its more powerful assets nearby. Needing to know just what was going on had drawn Bob to join the team, and his very able assistance was much appreciated.

Val perhaps wasn’t a sister of his blood, but was even more special being one of the heart. He knew of her strange and unusual past, but in Zolotoye-Yablochko being Weirdness Central as she sometimes called it, having a rather bizarre history was the norm. He’d conceded the point considering the aliens, mad scientists, mutants, and other oddities that called the city their home.

Bob gave his disguised instruments one last glance and gave him the high sign that their little play done in Russian hadn’t revealed any listeners or observers. They’d been relatively sure that their insertion had gone unnoticed, but in this business, it never hurt to check. Casually, they all trooped off to the van the intelligence operative had arranged for their trip.

There was an additional up side to all of this Pyotr thought as he climbed in to begin their long trip west. Finally, if he could pull her out of this new trouble she’d found herself in, maybe she would finally forget about that little incident with the purple hair.

Chapter 32

September 22, 2008

ETWF: Minus 10 Days

Area 61

Geode Cavern

Alan smiled as his students boarded the small tram. He hadn’t told them where they were headed this morning but it seemed his good humor had infected them. Part of him was irrationally ecstatic; the woman he was so in love with was with him, while another was horrified, as it was he that had drawn her into the same dangers that threatened him.

At least his feminine nature kept him from saying that to her. In the unspoken vows of their partnership, that all who really knew them knew was really a marriage, they agreed to share equally all hardships as well as the rewards. This woman had stayed at his side through such dangers as would boggle even an adventure novelist’s mind.

Even now, she was hard at work in Ollie’s workshop, developing the tools they would need to break his oldest friend out of this self-imposed prison. Never once did she question why, but just got to work doing what she did best. Ye Gawds, how he loved her.

The tram started its rumbling ride, angling deeper into earth. Behind them, Max and his keepers were uneasy fellow passengers in the next tramcar. The third and last car held yet more zoomie cops, but also Dr. Hathaway as well. It made sense because from there she could observe Saul Simpson’s every move but was also out of reach. It was nice to see that the big guy was being treated with more care and respect since Maxi-Lizzie had torn loose, nearly wrecking the place.

Watching the mind-bending Doctor, he could see she had been missing a lot of sleep. Alan was certain that she had something to do with Val's very rude awakening while she and Maggie had stolen some time together. Despite his trying not to think about it, someone had died last night. Someone was exposed to that damn Zap gun of Doc’s and it had killed them.

It wasn’t as bad as when he’d felt Jeff’s death from his suicide but bad enough. Although it’d confirmed that the damn thing was in use, it didn’t tell him on who. More of a problem was his inability to talk about it. No matter how close he and Maggie were, he simply couldn’t deal with more ghosts much less talk about them. Not here, not now with all the memories this place harbored. So he reveled in the golden glow of their love and did his best not to think about yet another death that had darken this place. There would come a reckoning but not today.

Looking forward he could see the lights of the tunnel disappearing into the distance. He’d forgotten just how deep the Geode was, but it was well worth the ride. Alan found himself holding Lizzie as the tram neared the end of the line. Smiling at her, he reassured her and the rest of his students all were fine.

With a soft jerk, the tram slowed, stopping at a rounded chamber with a large sealed door. Stepping aside, he gestured the tired Dr. Hathaway towards the keypad so she could let them enter.

In spite of that, she noticed his good humor. “Why Alan, you’re awfully cheerful this morning. Do we need to search to find out what kind of mischief you’ve been up to?”

Not wanting her to continue that line of thought he replied, “Ha! I knew that morning person zing of yours was a put-on. Now we’re seeing your real face and strangely, it’s just like ours. You’re human after all, imagine that!”

Watching as she opened the heavy door, he went on. “For your information I slept the sleep of the just and righteous. What’s up with you? Out wearing that little red number I met you in? You do know red is your color right?” He turned, grinning to the zoomie cops and Max, rubbing his fingertips on his jacket making too hot to handle gestures.

The former did their best to avoid getting involved in this, while the latter looked on interested. The kids giggled and laughed, but Amanda gave him a reproving glance as she covered Lizzie’s ears.

That bought enough time for the door to open, bathing them in a multitude of colors and lights.

Malik’s eyes widened as he saw the rainbow hues shine from the other side of the door. They got even wider as he and the others walked within, revealing a tremendously huge cavern. The entire inside was covered in crystals reflecting the lights set in the walls.

Mr. Glenn started lecturing. “Welcome to the Geode! As you can see, all the crystals make it look like you’re inside a really big geode. Now a real geode is simply a hollow rock with crystals, such as quartz, growing within.”

With a sweep of his hand he presented the glittering cave. “This one is different. Back in the 50’s, when the boys in blue thought the Russians were going to attack them at any minute, they wanted a way to move as many people as fast as they could underground where they thought they would be safe from the Bomb. So they set off an experimental Bomb of their own to make this. I understand this one was different because the others just caved in. What this one had in common with the rest was, it was still too radioactive for anyone in their right mind to take shelter in.”

Grinning at their alarm, he calmed them. “Like I said, this one was different. It’s no more than normal background radiation now, after all these years. What no one’s been able to explain is why the crystal formations grew so rapidly, but you’ve got to admit it’s quite the light show!”

Clapping his hands together, he ended the lesson. “And that is the conclusion of our geology and history class for today. It’s almost a mile across and is a near perfect globe. The lake at the bottom used to be only few feet deep but is over 30 feet now. Since we can’t go outside to practice flying, and other things that really need the room, here we are.”

“We’re also at the start of our team exercises. Mr. Simpson is here to help us play a little game that’s a combination of ice hockey and touch football. First if you’ll duplicate Amanda, Max, then both of them can freeze that lake down there.”

Malik looked at Amanda’s ‘Who Me?’ expression as she looked down at all the water down there in disbelief.

Mr. Simpson got that really pained grimace he always got when copying one of the girls. In a flash of light, there was a Maxi-Amanda.

The two girls stood there as a sudden bone-numbing chill passed around them. Malik pulled up the collar of his jacket as an icy fog sprung up around them. Normally, except for the AC down here, it was pretty warm. Not now. A brisk wind blew around the two weather controllers as they lowered the temperature between them. He could hear the creaking and cracking as the water flash-froze below.

Finally, both Amanda’s opened their eyes, but he knew something was up since the girl from the great state of Maine was smiling. Sure enough, it started snowing!

Obedient to her commands, a swirl of fat wet flakes flew to her hand. “How can you have a Hockey game without snow!” she said.

Malik and his sister exchanged a shivering glance. They were both, despite all that has happened to them, Southern California kids. All that frozen stuff was simply unnatural. Good at sports Malik might be, but never ever hockey or ice-skating. Maybe it was something in their genes since their mom had been the same. She’d given their father a flat stare every time he joked about taking them all on a ski trip.

Malik found himself sneaking a look at Bill. During school, the boy from Wisconsin stayed a boy, but after school had taken to being Billie the girl That confused the hell out of Malik. It was bad enough he found Billie attractive, but couldn’t she please decide which sex she wanted to be and keep to it?

Being from LA, he’d run across others like Billie and more. In the City of Angels, you could find boys who wanted to be girls, girls that wanted to be boys and some that wanted to be both at the same time. Malik dealt with it all by having a live and let live attitude. He couldn’t understand why someone would want to be other than what they were, but as long as they gave him his space he was willing to give them theirs.

Then along came Billie. There was a enthusiastic happiness about her as if she’d kept it all bottled up for years and now could hold it inside no longer. Despondently he suspected his sister felt the same way about Billie. Glumly he decided it figured that he would find a girl who he was attracted to for other than being shapely, and not only did she prove to have something extra, he was competing with his sister for her attention. It just wasn’t fair. Sometimes life just plain sucked, he decided.

Looking up at the snow clouds above him, he muttered to himself about being two miles underground and getting snowed on. Could things get any stranger or worse?

Mr. Glenn had been in a good mood all morning, and not even the freezing snow could change that, as their teacher urged them down the stairs leading to the bottom, dragging bags full of equipment behind them. Malik guessed the steps went all the way to the floor before it’d started filling with water. There were pipes where the excess water was pumped away, he supposed, looking around. He wasn’t looking forward to slipping and sliding on all that ice.

As their teacher was passing out the long ribbon ‘flags,’ Mr. Simpson did his thing, copying everyone. Of interest was the helium-filled saucer shaped balloons that was the ball/puck. As Mr. Glenn explained the rules, the Air Force guys were setting up the field.

The rules were simple, kinda like a cross between basketball and hockey. You couldn’t carry it, though you could push it along. There were three gates on each teams’ side of the field that were about 60 feet apart and 7 feet off the ground. For a goal to count, the ball had to go through each one even though you could go just as high as you wanted between each one. Missing one was the same as going out of bounds. This gave everyone who couldn’t fly a chance to steal the ball.

Mr. Glenn still with that wide grin said, “Now anyone who destroys the ball commits a foul and the other team gets possession. Touching the other players is a big no-no. Only taking the flag of whoever is controlling the ball is a legitimate 'tackle',” he said, making ditto marks with his fingers.

“Your superduper suits were whipped up by Doc and they’ll keep you warm out here as well as help protect you from the usual bumps and bruises. The sole of the boots will give you some traction but no doubt will still be rather clumsy. None of you able to fly has had much room to really practice and this should even the odds somewhat. Maxi’s clones are under the same handicaps you are. Although they all have that instinctive knowledge of how to fly, flying well is a skill they’ll have to learn, just like you do. Now get out there and have some fun,” he said, sounding like a high school coach.

Their teacher had assigned them positions for this first quarter/inning, but Malik wasn’t feeling any too happy, slipping and sliding on the ice. Josh was the goalie while Amanda and Bill were the safeties. He and Lizzie were on the pointy end as forwards. Okay so maybe this was more like soccer, he thought, as they began.

Despite himself, Malik found himself enjoying this weird game, whatever it was. It’d been ages since he’d played a real game, and it was like a breath of fresh air even if it was freezing. He and Lizzie had gotten the disk/ball through the last gate and Maxi-Bill was dead in front of him.

Skidding to a stop, he spun the Disk to Lizzie, who barely caught it as a strong gust of wind from Maxi-Amanda blew both nearly out of bounds. Giggling the six year old sent it like a missile at the goal.

Both of them blinked as the goal suddenly wavered and reappeared several feet to the left! Maxi-Josh shook a finger in No, No, as the Disk flew out of bounds. Tossing the Disk to his teammate, Maxi-Bill, the flexible teen sent it screaming across the ice at ankle level using his long arms like a slingshot.

Like a shot, he and Lizzie were in pursuit. It was hard because they’re running against the wind blowing in their faces courtesy of Maxi-Amanda. Malik decided that some rule clarification was called for. Lizzie might’ve thrown the Disk out of bounds but that was caused by Maxi-Josh, and they were told they couldn’t pull the flags off anyone who didn’t have the Disk but Maxi-Amanda was definitely interfering with them. Didn’t that count?”

Shouting up at Lizzie, he asked for help, “Push me!”

She drove down and off they went. Malik couched down in a tuck the way he’d seen speed skaters do. Soon he was wishing he'd brought a pair of goggles as the chilling rush burned his eyes and he felt the vibration of their speed through his boots. In a flash they’d cut through the opposing stormy breeze as they thundered down the field after the Disk.

Maxi-Malik had a surprised look as Malik whipped his flag away as he and Lizzie roared by. He could almost reach the disk when Maxi-Malak grabbed it and flew up just as they passed the middle gate on the home team side. Looking up he saw his sister’s clone climbing upwards.

Lizzie left him to pursue, with him braking, and stopping at the last gate before scoring country. He, Bill, and Amanda as well as their doubles were there except his was still on the sidelines after having his flag pulled. Like in basketball, it turned into covering the other players while the flyers above tried to snatch ribbons.

Running out of room to maneuver without going out bounds, Maxi-Malak twisted for the ground with the Disk riding the edge of her force screen like a surfer. Everyone crowded forward for the Disk as it came whistling down. Predictably, someone slipped and they all ended up falling, tangled and flying every which way.

Malik laid on his back as he spun slowly to a stop. No one looked hurt, but for a moment he was sure he’d ended up smacking into Lizzie. He’d bounced off her force screen thing protecting her more than a few times in the dojo and the feel of it was like nothing else. Yeah, sure, it was hard, but it was also very slippery. Trying to grab her was like that wet bar of soap you hear about.

That was why he was so surprised when he turned around and saw he’d run into Mr. Glenn. It kinda helped the teacher looked as startled as he did. None the worse for wear, the teacher got to his feet, whistle blowing for a time out.

Putting the incident behind him, he reveled in the sensation of being in a game again. Man, did he miss this! Mr. Glenn had kept him busy helping with Lizzie and everything from dancing to gymnastics, but none of it was as satisfying as putting out your best effort.

Looking up as the snow continued to fall, he was glad that along with escaping from harm, they all were having good time judging from the giggles and laughs as Mr. Glenn held up the now flatten and tattered Disk.

“All right everyone,” their teacher said. “You saw what just happened. Acting as individuals you mostly got in each others way. However, there were some good teamwork efforts such as Maxi-Amanda’s blocking Malik and Lizzie, and how those two fought their way past it. However you can all do better.”

He took out a repair kit and began work on his patient, the Disk, as he talked. “We’re going do this again but this time we’re going to use radios, with me being the coach for the home team, while Max here coaches the Out of Towners.”

With a pop, the Disk re-inflated as he pumped in more Helium. “Good as new!”

An all too short time later for Malak, they were back in the trams heading back to the school. Mr. Simpson’s clones had all derezzed in a shower of lights so he guessed the Doctors weren’t interested in studying them anymore. He’s always got that thing, that guys weren’t sensitive about stuff, from his sister, but Malik could see just how tough it was on Mr. Simpson to see his clones just disappear.

It wasn’t some Star Trippin’ TV show where the crew just beamed-out. These were kids he’d just finished having a good scrimmage with and he knew they weren’t coming back. Sensitive or not, that bothered him.

Then there was Mr. Glenn. From the very beginning, the almost 50-year-old teacher moved like he was much younger, but being on that borderline between human and mutant could explain that. But what about that other stuff, like what happened today? Malak was sure that it’d been Lizzie’s protective screen thing he’d collided with.

He guessed it could’ve been just these new suits protecting them. Nearly everyone had gotten creamed in that big crash, including some of the Air Force cops. All of them had walked away, even if a few had been limping some.

Malik sighed to himself. He was beginning to learn that, just when you thought you had things figured out down here, something would turn you on your head. Putting his worries aside, he laid back enjoying the wonderful tired feeling of having fully exerted himself. Maybe someone knew all that was going on down here, but he wouldn’t place any bets!

Chapter 33

September 22, 2008

ETWF: Minus 10 Days

ULTIMATE Field Camp SRT-One

Sapphira Heron was definitely out of sorts today. Placing the voltage meter back in its cushioned slot in her toolbox, she knew it wasn’t her suit of powered armor that had her so aggravated. That customized product of her genius was in perfect operating condition.

The bronze and gold high tech sculpture was a worthy successor to her Greek ancestors’ famous art works. Standing, the gleaming armor added a foot to her own 172 cm, but it was more than just size that made it so imposing. Its polished smooth curves conveyed an unmistakable feminine aura but also spoke of strength and power. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but Greek philosophers knew it also had a formula, The Golden Ratio, 1.6180339887. Objects proportioned to this ratio, along with symmetry, seemed more attractive and beautiful. Sapphira had used that equation with ruthless efficiency.

The sculptured beauty of its shell hid the real genius of her work within. Its miniature fusion plant let her power an astounding array of beyond cutting edge technology. An advanced sensor array; lethal and non-lethal weapon suites, as well as defensive systems and electronic countermeasures, made it a truly formidable machine. While dressed, she could dare challenge the strength of Hercules, swift Hermes, or fly like Pegasus.

She knew that even before she’d been discovered as a mutant, she’d had that rare intelligence that made great intuitive leaps. Sapphira had her first patent by the time she was ten and had begun taking university level courses by her 13th year. Then everything changed. It was as if she’d been blind all those years and now could see.

Her mutation had caused few physical changes, and those were mostly cosmetic. She certainly had no objections of her youthful attractiveness becoming goddess-like beauty. However, it was the change within that was life altering. Sapphira’s intelligence went clean off the charts, and she gained a multitude of useful intellectual talents. Complex mathematical equations were instantly solved. She had perfect recall and could visualize and manipulate sophisticated diagrams and images mentally.

Sapphira slammed down the lid of her toolbox. Damn them! By all rights, she should be managing her own corporation by now instead of being harassed by petty bureaucrats whose ignorance was matched only by their bigoted intolerance. What was worse, it was her own countrymen who’d cursed her to this fate.

She truly loved her home of Greece, but that didn’t blind her to the corruption of its politicians. ULTIMATE had come calling, looking for conscripts. Her family had tried to protect her but she’d been thrown to the ‘recruiters’ by Geek bureaucrats, like a virgin sacrifice into the volcano. They’d all known it’d been no accident either, for her to be so honored.

ULTIMATE was well aware of her talents and inventiveness. As a draftee, she had little in the way of any rights and anything she did produce would be the property of the greedy intolerant bastards. However, failure to comply could be just as bad. The term of her conscription was 3 years of her life and she had no desire to see it turned into life imprisonment sentenced to Dark Side Penitentiary.

She bowed her head and got to work for her masters, but like the god of smiths, Hephaestus, for the high and mighty living upon Mount Olympus; it would be on her own terms. The actual suit design took her only a few days. The complex web and maze she wove within it took longer. Deliberately she made it aesthetically pleasing to the eye, not so much as to build a thing of beauty, although that was a bonus, but because it gave the onlooker a false impression of simplicity.

When completed, it was a work of art and nothing but a huge deception. Yes it would give the wearer supra-human abilities and enable one to contest against the gods, but only if they happened to be Sapphira Heron. Every system was designed to mislead and confuse anyone trying to duplicate it. While any puzzle can be solved, those able to break this cipher weren’t willing to so for these masters.

What’s more, the entire design existed only in her head. No blue prints, no records, no CAD files, just the surveillance coverage of her fabricating and assembling the bronze and gold masterpiece. That’s not to say they didn’t try. The look on their faces as screws were removed and entire assemblies collapsed into a pile of parts were priceless. They could have demanded she show them but that would’ve revealed their true purpose, as she could’ve asked for the process to be documented.

She had barely avoided a court-martial, but had succeeded in denying the goat-humpers the fruits of her labors. Angered, they’d assigned her as team leader for Supra-Reaction Team One, a supra-squad assigned to take care of threats ULTIMATE’s dropships and powered armor goons couldn’t stop.

Inexperienced and lacking in seniority they expected her to fail, but she’d followed her the advice of her father, who’d served his time in the Greek military. He’d told her to follow the suggestions of her sergeants and others who did have the knowledge. Putting that wisdom to work, she picked the brains of all her people, as well as reading everything from Sun Tzu to Henri Jomini.

Sapphira didn’t think it false pride to think that she and her people had done well. The individuals recruited for her team had been as fractious as they came, but despite all the problems, they had become a true team. Rarely used for their actual purposes, the Reaction Teams were more like chain-gangs of old, forced to perform whatever disgusting tasks their overseers could come up with.

It was galling since most of the members had committed no crimes whatsoever. When the situation did demand their use, it was often long after it’d been prudent. The leadership of ULTIMATE did all they could to put Mutant-hood in the worst possible light. To have the SRTs come in and save the day, after the norms and all their technology had failed, was the last thing they wanted.

While other supra-humans working in and with law-enforcement were allowed colorful code names, the SRTs were as de-humanized as possible. Like that old song, their names had been taken away from them and all they were was a number. Officially, Sapphira was Number One of SRT One. Their uniforms were as drab as possible, making only allowances for practicality.

She still got the warm and fuzzies remembering when she’d been ordered to paint her armor in ULTIMATE blue. She wondered how even an organization like this one could take such a lovely shade of blue and make it so ugly. As simply as she could, Sapphira explained that her armored suit had a unique coating that let it reflect most energy based attacks and that its color was a property of the materials used, not any sort of pigment.

Pig-headed, they refused to listen of course. Amused, she told them if they wanted it blue, let them figure it out. After wasting gallon after gallon of paint and high-tech infusers, they finally gave up. She had so much fun watching it bead and run off even if she’d just made more enemies.

Despite all the odds against them, SRT One had beaten them every time. Struggling against the anal-retentive bureaucracy, and fighting some of the most dangerous criminals on the planet, was difficult but they’d been winning that two front war.

For a brief time, Sapphira thought that just maybe SRT One had been making a real difference and starting to turn around some of the negative attitudes she dealt with day end and day out. That things were actually improving. Then came the New Riverside Fluster Kuck.

The whole truth only came out after it was all over, but it was a complete and utter screw-up from the beginning. A really nasty demonic thing calling himself Lord Corruption had been working at opening a gate for yet another, even more evil, supernatural creature. Lord Corruption had nearly taken over the entire city of New Riverside by forcibly impressing every supra within to his service to accomplish that goal. The local supra-group, the New Riverside Warders, were being overwhelmed and the ULTIMATE forces on site did their usual sitting on their hands thing before calling in help.

When she and SRT One had been finally called in, Lord Corruption had already stacked the deck. He had turned, or as it was later claimed, took mental control of the ULTIMATE tactical commander, a Colonel Hostler. If SRT One had been free to act, Sapphira felt that even at that late date the oncoming train-wreck of events could have been avoided. However, all of the SRTs were under the command of the local office, and the one there was commanded by the traitor Colonel. He made sure all their efforts were not only wasted, but also offered up her people as scapegoats for one failure after another.

What turned the tide was the simple fact that the Warders weren’t at all stupid and brought in outside help. She didn’t like to admit it but that decision probably saved them all. When they got help, they did not mess around. The Chevaliers were a group of unknowns that were brought together under the leadership of the renown old American hero Major Victory. The retired hero had been around long enough to have to be over 100 years old, but looked like a man in his prime. With generations of experience behind him, he trained a team that when SRT One had been ordered by the traitor to attack, they’d gotten their butts kicked soundly, as Robert, better known as Number Three, had colorfully put it.

True, some of the Warders had also been there, but considering the number of regular ULTIMATE combat units on the scene, both these Chevaliers and the Warders should have been defeated. Even worse, she and her armor were taken out without her firing a shot. Esper-anza, the Chevaliers’ mentalist, had attacked her with a projected blast of Psionic energy. Such abilities weren’t unknown in the world and her armor was designed to provided protection from its like.

How Esper-anza had done it, Sapphira would never know, but the Chevalier had found a weakness in her suit’s defenses. What was different about this attack was it’d been directed against her armor and not her. The cyber-interface that allowed her and only her to control the complex suit was the real target. Normally such energies were harmless to mechanical and electronic devices, but this system's purpose was to link with the human mind and nervous system. Esper-anza’s blast set up a feedback loop that nearly fried her brain along with giving her stroke-like symptoms that had persisted for days.

Ironically, SRT One’s defeat let the Chevaliers and the Warders go on to stop Lord Corruption’s plans. Not before open conflict had erupted between the Heroes and ULTIMATE though. In the confusing battle that followed, Lord Corruption’s own forces had attacked both parties. The Warders had held their own and willingly went to the rescue of their former besiegers, an action that galled ULTIMATE’s leadership to no end.

In the aftermath, she’d awoken from her injuries to find that the craven bureaucrats were blaming her for everything that’d gone wrong! To her rather embarrassed relief it’d been the Chevaliers and the Warders once more to the rescue. Major Victory was a hero of the old school and was still held in high regard by many. He’d used that and the information provided by his staff to clear up the misunderstanding. Like an unstoppable force of nature, he was determined that the guilty would face justice.

Heads rolled and she and SRT One was cleared of all charges, but like the movie said ‘Bastards had brothers’ or in this case ‘bureaucrats had special interests’. They’d made this last year most unpleasant, and she’d given up all hope of making changes to ULTIMATE from the inside. Perhaps someone else could make those changes but fighting the entrenched hostility she faced now was a losing battle.

Sapphira had only a year remaining until she was free. Now, she was planning how to make those changes from the outside. Three times, her initial conscription of 3 years had been involuntarily extended, the maximum time allowed. After some thought, she also made preparations for what if her overseers finally crossed the line and tried to frame, imprison or do worse to her. She had no intention of going down fighting. Sapphira fully intended on living and let the other poor dumb bastard do the dying to paraphrase a famous fighting general.

Right at this very moment, SRT One was once again being screwed and not even getting kissed, another of Number Three’s colorful Americanisms. Here they were in Las Vegas, the American’s city of sin, but there weren’t any nice comfortable hotels for them. They were living out of tents, while playing rabbit for the Heavy Assault Brigade.

The Brigade were ULTIMATE‘s premier thugs. Most large cities had what passed for a battalion of ULTIMATE troopers. Six V-33 dropships, a V-22c command ship, and 65 Peacekeeper Power Armored troopers, which was more than enough to take care of most threats. The Brigade had ten times the equipment and men as well as enough combat helicopters, interceptors, and other aircraft to push the total over eight hundred fighting machines. What’s more, instead of Peacekeeper armored suits, they had the more heavily armed Peacemakers. Its mission was simple. Go in, crush the opposition, and let someone else worry about collateral damage and casualties. It did not help that every one of them was a radical mutant hating ass. And those were the good things you could say about them.

This was the wonderful group that their beloved bureaucratic overseers had them training with. That is if you considered being chased and shot at while trying to survive in an inhospitable desert, training. It was times like this that she missed her home in Greece with a fierce longing.

At least SRT One’s support troops were having a good time. Since Sapphira and the rest of the supra-humans in SRT were being abused out in the Mohave, their pilots and crew chiefs had little to do. While ULTIMATE at large was turning more and more intolerant and bigoted, the normals in SRT One’s support group were a good bunch. Any mutie haters that showed up were quickly set straight by their no nonsense noncoms. They knew that their safety depended on all of them trusting each other and working together. Any man jack that couldn’t toe the line got shown the door.

One of her pilots had found an old friend from his Officer Training Academy days involved in a surveillance mission nearby. She’d given her unofficial blessing that if he happened to run across his old friend while flying navigation training flights she wouldn’t see a thing.

Imagine her surprise when the young pilot had passed on to her a request from his friend’s superior that the two of them meet in secret and away from prying eyes in blue. A discreet inquiry about this requester revealed he was a Frenchman of the old school, and was nearly as unpopular with the ruling elite of ULTIMATE as she was.

Not being either slow or mentally deficient, Sapphira had suspected there was more to their being deployed here than some training mission. The fact that there were others here on the ’shit list,’ as Three called it, suggested they were all being set up as scapegoats. Add in the HAB, their masters’ favorite toy, made her certain, she knew who was suppose to charge in and save the day from their incompetence. There were more issues in play than she’d first guessed. Add in the HAB training to find and pursue mutants in a desert environment with the authorization for lethal force, and the answers were most unpleasant.

Securing the last of her testing equipment, she readied her armor for more training. Sapphira had updated her own contingency plans, and warned her family of possible trouble. Tonight her armor’s stealth systems would get a comprehensive test and she’d find out what the questions were to her answers.

No matter she was upset over what she suspected; that once more her masters and overseers were setting her up for failure. However, this time they might have finally crossed over the point of no return. Loyalty, like respect, was something to be earned and ULTIMATE had done nothing to gain either.

Sapphira’s bared teeth couldn’t be called a smile except perhaps by fellow Greeks from another long ago time. Standing fast in a mountain pass known as the Hot Gates, they would’ve recognized and welcomed her to their ranks despite her sex. They would have known an Amazon warrior when they saw one.
<<<<>>>>

Chapter 34

September 22, 2008

ETWF: Minus 10 Days

Area 61

Doctor Courtney Hathaway was tired. While she wasn’t the only esper talent on the staff she was the senior. She was also the only one with the knowledge and skill necessary to pull off Project Hydra. Often she suspected that the others were there just to keep an eye on her. It was just more of the paranoid check and balances Area 61 lived by.

The entire morning had been one ordeal after another. First that Monday department meeting from hell, where General Laramie had pushed her for faster results regarding Project Hydra, and then it was off to the Great White North to watch that overgrown child, Alan Glenn, play some kind of strange mixture of ice hockey, soccer, and Gawd only knows what else.

She understood that its purpose was to help the subjects work together, but it’d still been freezing cold and she’d almost gotten hurt more than once, even as a spectator. Amazed, she watched the kids grin, get up and go running back into the maelstrom.

None of them saw just how hard she’d been exerting herself. Saul Simpson’s clones were too short lived for them to get back to the lab in time to put them in stasis. To preserve the experiences of what this group of clones had learned she’d had to work her talent harder than she’d had to in years.

Even though the receivers’ minds were asleep, as well as being absolute duplicates of the ones she was taking the experiences from, there were great difficulties. The first was it wasn’t just memories she was transferring. For the Hydra subjects to receive the full benefits of this second hand training with Meridian, she had to go very deep into muscle memory.

Second and third, she’d been miles away with a lot of solid rock in the way. Crystalline formations had always been a problem for those of the talent, but she’d made sure she’d stayed lined up with the tunnel as much as she could. Line of sight did help.

Lastly, she’d had to download those experiences, not once, but to each of the 19 remaining Hydra subjects. All while trying to maintain appearances while they all played. By the time she’d climbed back onto the tram, Courtney had been completely exhausted. But, no, wait - all those new memories had to be integrated into the Hydra subject’s minds. Yet more work. The males were more or less straight forward. Even the clones of William didn’t have any problems accepting the new experiences and were adapting fairly well. The problem with William’s clones were they still all had his female-wired brain. That was certain to cause problems later on, and she needed to lay the groundwork for those clones’ acceptance of that condition.

Saul Simpson had a very masculine personality that would not make her work any easier. If William’s doubles were going to be trouble, that did not even begin to describe that of the true genetic girls. The further from Saul’s entrenched self-image they got, the worse the problems grew. Lizzie being not only female but the youngest and smallest made her the hardest. Two of the clones of her had committed suicide and another had been a very near thing.

Courtney wasn’t even sure how they’d managed it, seeing how tough and strong that little girl was. Just as bad was two of Maxi-Malak’s had done so too, but they’d stopped all of the Maxi-Amandas' attempts but one.

Back when the clones had been just temporary manifestations it’d been easy for her to deny they were really alive. Now she couldn’t do that and she had to use her powers to keep them alive and sane. She couldn’t erase everything because that might leave them unable to use their powers, but instead had to hack and slash, creating what she hoped was stable persona.

Unable to access Lizzie’s memories, she’d had to use her own. Oh how Alan Glenn would laugh if he only knew! Courtney might have nearly perfect recall but that only worked if she tried to remember the events to start with. Going over those memories and giving them to the clones of Lizzie, Malak, and Amanda was opening and giving more of herself than she was at all comfortable with.

She rubbed her temples from the headache caused by the overuse of her PSI talent. The gestures she’d learned as a child came from her sisters and mother. To see those same ones echoed by the ‘girls’ made her feel a complicated mixture of emotions that she couldn’t begin to work out. She rested her head on her desk, pushing her laptop aside. All she had to do was do it all over again tomorrow. If she could’ve, Courtney would’ve cried, but that just took too much energy. Looming on the horizon was the faked deaths of the Meridian candidates and her part in lying to their families.

Finally, in a slow drizzle the tears welled up and slowly trickled down her cheeks to her desk. Softly the salty tears ended in a fitful sleep.

Maggie Carson didn’t know which was more bitter; not knowing what’d happened to her lover, or having her just yards away and being unable to gather her in her arms. Sighing she pushed herself from the cluttered shop table that was covered with parts, tools and half-assembled devices.

Ollie looked up at her, taking a break from his own labors. They’d both been hard at work all day since getting a good look at the security checkpoint to the vaults. Together, with help from Big Mac, they’d come up with a plan to break into the vault entrance.

The alien Gray put down the part he’d been working on. His workshop was full of whatever electronics he’d been able to pilfer from the underground complex. Gutted cell phones and less identifiable, stripped machines cluttered the makeshift workshop.

Last night Val/Alan and she had managed to share a few hours together. In either persona, the nightmares were something she’d grown accustomed to in their years together, despite her futile desire to help chase them away. Those night terrors had grown less frequent, but last night’s were something different.

Val had woken covered in sweat, throwing herself upright in her fear. Maggie still more than half asleep had seen for just a fraction of a second that her lover was glowing and even had what seemed was a ghost-like form superimposed upon her. Just as quickly, it had faded, leaving her doubting her own senses.

Denying anything of import had happen; her love had shifted back to Alan and went back to his masquerade. Maggie knew differently. This hadn’t been any sort of normal bad dream. No one in the world knew more about this, oh so complicated a person she loved, than she. Her intuition told her that Z-Ray device had to be involved somehow, but while she’d been told much about it, Maggie didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was past time to find out.

“Ollie,” she asked. “Just what is this Z-Ray? Alan has told me so much about what it did to him and the Rocketeers, but he left out just what it is.”

The small Gray sighed, knowing this question had been coming. “Please understand that while much of what I can do here seems impressive, it is all very improvised. I am like that character in that book raised by simians. While my knowledge might seem beyond yours, it is far from what is expected from one of the scientist cast brought up enfolded in the mental gestalt of the People. All of this is because of our different point of view regarding the base principles and rules of physics”

Holding out his slim long fingered hands, he continued. “I’ll tell you what I can. The machine seems vaguely like the drives on Gray flying saucers. Those work by interacting with the strands or strings that binds all the dimensions together, allowing anti-gravity as well as anti-inertial like effects.”

“Years ago, I saw it in operation as I hid fearing for my companions the Rocketeers. From what I observed, its operation is beyond what the engines of my race uses. Its effects stretch far into inter-dimensional space and perhaps, even to the very fabric of the multi-universe. If it is so, then the dangers it poses are very significant.”

“I’ve researched this matter as much as I could, asking my parents’ matrixes as well as the scant resources that were onboard their saucer. Apparently, this was never an area that has been explored by my people, the Grays. Rather than empower single individuals, my people’s strength is their ability to think and act as one. Its philosophy is much like that of your terrestrial hive insects, if different in its execution. The good of the many is more important than the needs of the few.

“I do know no one here understands truly what it is doing with the possible exception of Doctor McClellan. Please to do not underestimate him. His intellect is at least on a level equal to a scientist of my people, and I believe that he is singly unique. After touching his mind, I could see it operates on many different levels at once. That was the one and only time I’ve ever attempted such and I won’t do it again.”

“That doesn’t answer your question, but perhaps this might help. Years ago when this program was in its infancy, it was believed that supra-normal abilities came from mutation of an unidentified gene. Since then, research has reveal there is not a single gene that all supra-humans have in common that the rest of the human race lacks. Moreover, not all the genesis of Supra-humans can be associated with known forms of mutations. Something else other than the mechanism of genetic mutation is involved.

“Yes, some do have their origins linked to the classical mutative elements such as radiation, chemical immersion, and others. However, what about being struck by lightning, drowning, or some other traumatic event that has nothing to with genetics? All these things seem to be triggers, but in seeking their answers, many ignored what did not fit their own pet theories. Bad science at its worse.

“What is more confusing is whatever causes these origins, the changes are down to the genetic level and can be inherited. What I think Doctor McClellan believes is that the causes, whether natural or artificial, are extra-dimensional. That is what the Z-Ray does. It blindly probes in those places. Perhaps less clumsily than the earlier incarnations of the device, as statistically the ratio of survivors to failures has improved, but still blind nonetheless.

“You do have to admit that he’s onto something. His successes prove that, but what else could he unknowingly trigger with his explorations? I fear that answer. For years Meridian was inactive, and the Z-Ray nothing more than another relic of the Cold War. Now it’s back and is being used more than ever according to Big Mac.”

Ollie stopped and looked at her. “Maggie has something happened that I need to be aware of?”

She sighed. But of course the alien telepath would picked up on her anxiety. Damn Val and all her secrets. Maggie had always been very forgiving of that flaw in her lover because she understood that Val had been badly hurt and keeping those secrets was one of the consequences. Given time, her lover would reveal all, but it was hard for her.

Now Maggie had a problem. Ollie would have to know, given that Val would have to be part of their vault break-in Wednesday night. But she didn’t want to betray the hard-earned trust between the two of them. There was really only one answer.

“Ollie I don’t know the entire story and the parts that are missing are the most interesting ones. We both have no choice but to shanghai him so both of us can get some answers. What do you think of that?” Maggie asked.

The small alien sighed. “It’ll have to suffice. I must warn you that I am not taking anything else other than the complete truth. My questions have waited long enough. Now however it's time for us to get back to work for we still have much to do.”

Maggie nodded, returning to her own tasks. This mission to free Ollie’s parent’s matrixes was going to be one of the hardest of her and Val’s partnership, but it could be done. Finding out just what in the hell was going on at Area 61 and getting the kids and all of the other inmates out was going to be a little harder.

Saul Simpson enjoyed the simple pleasure of deciding just when to turn out the lights. It might, he admitted, not be a big thing to most people. It was to him. After being incarcerated at the highest security prison the human race had ever built, almost everything most people took for granted was precious to him.

Taking a deep breath of air he remembered how ‘bad to the bone’ he was prepared to be, arriving at Dark Side Penitentiary. They had taken away his name the moment he’d half-floated, half-stumbled through the airlock. Inmate number Four was all he’d been called for nearly 30 years. He’d learned really quickly that it didn’t mean crap how bad or how tough you were when someone else controlled your food, heat, and even the very air you breathed. Yeah he might be near un-killable, but he still needed air to stay conscious.

The sadistic assholes, the so-called guards, had even let him go through explosive decompression, not once, but several times. Each time he’d revived, once there was something for him to breathe. Oh, they called it accidents, but he knew the truth. Hell, for that matter maybe he even deserved it. His Mama, if she hadn’t died from being a junkie, would’ve said he deserved all the pain he’d received during all these years.

Saul knew he was a killer. The courts that’d sentenced him hadn’t come close to the real number of people that’d died at his hands. That number was in the hundreds, if not more, for every time he used his mojo, he killed. He thought it so freaking funny that no one else seemed to understand that when his mojo’s children vanished, they died.

Just like a man and woman screwed to make kids, so did he and his mojo by taking a part of himself and a piece of whoever they touched. Yeah they all had his memories, but they also had the powers and body of who he touched. Just like a kid having some of daddy and some of the mama.

The bastards had even encouraged and then made him use the mojo, testing and pushing him until he refused. The shrinks told him he wasn’t killing anyone. The clones, as they called them, were just temporary energy manifestations, no more alive than the pictures on the TV.

Hell, he knew the real reason was just so they could get him to do even more work in their damn mines. He-3 was the grease of this new world so obsessed with being green. Fusion power needed it, and to get it you had to strip mine the moon. Some of the work was done by robots, but the conditions were so harsh that the damn things were broken more often than not.

The freaking dust got into everything, destroyed gears and seals almost as fast as they could be replaced, but men? They might sweat and bleed, but kept going until their hearts broke. Saul had seen so many come and go, ground up by Lady Luna, the cast iron bitch to end them all.

You didn’t have to volunteer for the mines, but without the few privileges that gave you, most inmates wound up going nuts in the small closet sized cells. While some SOB on earth was crying out for the ill treatment of spotted owls or some damn kind of minnow, men died in conditions as bad or worse as any slave in history. After all, out of sight, out of mind, and it was damn hard to get further out of sight than where the sun never shone.

When they came and asked him if he wanted to go back to Earth, Saul didn’t have to think about it. He knew there would be some catch and there was. He had to use his mojo again to help train some more brats, who ironically were the successors of the very ones that’d put him in that hellhole to begin with.

But there’d been another reason as well. If needed, he was supposed to take care of Alan Glenn, Vroom, the very same kid that’d done the deed and put him in hell. At first, the thought of getting back into some real gravity and freedom was his only goal. Getting a chance at revenge was only gravy. However, it didn’t take Saul long to figure out that the kid was in the same boat as himself.

The old convict had heard the stories of how mutants like him were being treated now, but hadn’t really accepted that all of them, bad and good, were being lumped together. Saul knew better than most that the animal in the cage next to yours wasn’t your friend. However, just maybe, he might not be an enemy. There was that old saying; the enemy of an ally is an enemy, the ally of an enemy is an enemy, but, the enemy of an enemy, well, just might be an ally.

Alan Glenn had proved that he wasn’t an enemy. They would never be friends, but there was no need for them to be enemies either. The ex-hero had also been one of the few to respect his feelings regarding the children of his mojo and that meant a lot to Saul.

Turning out the lights the big man sighed. That put his promise of taking care of the now teacher and instructor in a different light. Saul could feel in his bones that a crap-load of trouble was coming and when it hit the fan there would be hell to pay in blood, tears, and perhaps more. The time was coming that he would have to decide where to stand again. The first time, he’d decided to care only for himself and what pleased him. That hadn’t worked out so well.

Sighing, he closed his eyes to sleep, remembering a sad old song one of the rednecks in the joint had been fond of. Sleep found him as The Green, Green Fields of Home softly sang in his memory.

To be continued.

Chapter 35

Tuesday September 23 Sept.

ETWF: Minus 9 Days

Josh saw the smudge in the distance that was Chicago in the early fall morning. The air had a slight chill to it, but his super-suit, as Mr. Glenn called it, kept him comfortable, while its integral visor provided him information on where the rest of the guys were.

He was in front, using his power to stay unseen, as he searched for the reason they were here. Malak was behind him, flying concealed in the top of the trees, using her height to keep a look out. Everyone else was staying low waiting for him to find their objective.

Making his way as carefully as he could, Josh didn’t recognize what he was looking at. It was just too damn big. It was just a huge blue-white shape by a stream. The proportions were so out of whack Josh’s brain couldn’t put the pieces together. Then it stood, throwing its massive head around as if casting for a scent.

Ten, maybe 12 feet tall, and nearly as wide, the figure was a solid block of muscle upon muscle. He saw its flat-featured face and its too wide, toothy maw. Noseless, but he knew that it had a whale-like blowhole on top of his head, Leviathan.

It was the Boogieman of the last 50 years since its creation in the 60s. Impossibly strong, invulnerable, and savage, it had never been defeated. Chased away occasionally, and even an improbable ally from time to time, but never beaten.

This was their objective?

Really hoping he was wrong, Josh reported. “I’ve spotted Leviathan by a stream about 100 yards from my position. Is he our objective?”

His suit’s radio whispered to him. “Affirmative. Subdue target and prepare it for transport to a holding facility.”

Josh heard snorts of disbelief from the others as they heard the droll command that was flat out insane. Just how the hell were they supposed to do that?

Looking at the stream and remembering how Amanda had frozen the small lake in the Geode yesterday gave him an idea. “Malik how does this sound? I’ll blind him, while Amanda gets an ice storm going. You and Lizzie knock him into the water while Malak uses her force-screen to hold him in place. Amanda freezes it and him into a block of ice. Bill plays safety yanking anyone out of way in case Big Bad Blue there gets too close.”

The sports crazed teen thought about it. “Sounds as likely to work as anything else that has been tried. I would change that into everyone hitting him to knock him back though. Try not to alert him ‘til the last moment with the blindness thing.”

Josh nodded forgetting no one else could see him. “Ah, okay. I’ll try and keep everyone invisible till the very last second.”

His heart was beating like mad, as they got closer to this thing. It hadn’t seen them yet because of Josh’s power, but it seemed aware that something was up from the way it kept sniffing around.

Taking a deep breath, he used his power to blind the monster.

Lizzie and Malik rushed out of the bushes at it, while Malak used her magnetic power to help push Leviathan into the stream. Bill’s arms shot forward over their heads striking the huge amphibian. Overhead Amanda’s storm started it snowing as the temperature dropped suddenly.

And then it all went wrong. The monster did stumble backwards, but he didn’t fall. As big as it was, the water hardly covered its knees. Lizzie and Malik, even as hard they’d hit it, literally bounced off the tough, resilient hide. Faster than Josh could believe, it grabbed Billy’s long arms and slung him away so hard he was lost from sight in the falling snow in an eye blink.

In a bluish flash, Malak’s magnetic power tried to hold the berserk creature in place, as Amanda froze the stream, and it kinda worked. Frozen up to his knees, it kicked at the suddenly appearing ice, ignoring the flash freezing sub-zero temperature. Grabbing a huge frozen chunk, Leviathan threw it at Malak. The force-screen trying to keep him immobile, failed as the ice punched a hole through it as she dodged to the side.

With a roar that shook Josh’s teeth, the monster flung itself into the deeper depths that had yet to freeze and like a torpedo raced out of sight, hidden by the very ice that was suppose to imprison it.

They all sat there in the freezing cold for a moment and laughed. Surprisingly they were still all alive, even Billy who came running back from his involuntary express air trip.

Josh blinked as the words “Simulation Over” appeared in front of his eyes, announcing the end of their adventure.

‘Wow, but these things were great,’ he thought, as he climbed out of the latticed globe. A technician helped him out of the feedback coverall-like suit while another unhooked the helmet.

He had really felt like he was right there. Josh traded a look with Malik knowing he was thinking the same thing. They just had to hook up one of their game systems to this thing.

Mr. Glenn and a very tired looking Dr. Hathaway were giving them all a look over. “Okay folks, that’s all. Now off to the debriefing.” Their teachers herded them along.

As soon as everyone got seated, Mr. Glenn clapped his hands together. “I’ve got good news and bad news. First the good news. You did better than The Rocketeers did when we met Leviathan. All of you escaped serious injuries, while half of us ended up in the infirmary.

“Now the bad news. You did chase him away, but he went downstream. That’s unfortunately towards Chicago and the people you‘re suppose to protect. Really not bad at all considering we sent you in cold with so little information,” Mr. Glenn concluded.

Dr. Hathaway stood up and began her analysis. “Like Mr. Glenn said, you did well considering, but there are reasons why your plan failed. One, Leviathan is a mixture of human and oceanic creatures. It can easily handle the temperatures and conditions you were throwing at it. It also has a sonar sense and doesn’t have much of a sense of smell. When you thought it was sniffing, it was actually sonar scanning the area. That let it grab Bill’s arm. Joshua, your blinding him did help your team approach him and the simulation AI ruled that it was the reason, along with the suddenly changing weather, was why it fled rather than fight.

“As frightening as Leviathan is, it is an instinct driven creature with only limited reasoning ability. For your first simulator run, I agree with Mr. Glenn that you all did very well. After lunch, we’ll try again with another scenario,” she concluded.

Josh looked around at the other kids, but couldn’t help himself from grinning. This was supposed to be work? They all got up heading off to eat, hungrily despite the food that made his old school’s café’s look good. He found himself eager to get back to the best video game ever!

Chapter 36

Area 61 High security vaults.
Wednesday 24 Sep

Valentina Zarya Savitskaya took a long silent deep breath to clear her mind for the coming challenge. The HUD, Head’s Up Display, on her helmet’s visor, passed along Big Mac’s confirmation that he’d put the surveillance cameras on loop. It was now her turn.

Ollie cracked open the service tunnel door, and she was out in a flash. Diving deep into Slow-Time, the very air around her thickened into a soup that fought her for every step as Val flowed into the room. The first guard had started to blink, alerted somehow that something was wrong. Before his eyelashes could touch, she had him.

The tough, seemingly ageless, little Kazakh that’d taught her the move she’d knocked out the guard with, was the only person she’d ever met that understood even a little bit about Slow-Time. She even manage to teach him how to do it himself, if even just a trifling. The grinning little Mongol regarded the deal as a fair exchange.

The first guard's knees hadn’t begun to buckle before the second one was following him to unconsciousness. Carefully she caught each one. If all went as planned, no one would ever know that anyone had been here.

Letting go of Slow-Time, Val felt the resistance fade as time sped back up. Ollie poked his head out, looking at her curiously, as he and Maggie pushed out the cart with all of their gear. Together they worked to bypass the alarms and telltales on the imposing door that was the entrance into Area 61’s fabled vaults.

Last night when Maggie and Ollie insisted she come clean with them about what was happening, as well as revealing her true self, that’d been one of the hardest things she had ever done. So many different things were all tied together and some of those were still as raw as any open wound. On the other hand, very few others had earned her trust like Maggie and Ollie.

Being back here where it’d all began was bad enough. To add what happened a few nights ago and it became as nightmarish as they come. Explaining that not only was the Z-Ray being used, but just how she knew that someone had died from it, was even harder. That meant she had to explain how she knew.

Val found that despite all the years that’d passed that she just couldn’t. She knew it was silly. Val did tell her friends of the events surrounding that final exposure to the Z-Ray, and the demise of The Rocketeers. She also told them this was the origin of her abilities to switch forms from Alan to Val. However, she found she still couldn’t tell everything. All she could do was say that more had died because of the damn thing.

Honestly, she hadn’t known herself 'til yesterday during that crazy game she’d come up with. Normally when as Alan, he had no problem with not using his full range of abilities. Unless he kind of reached for them, he really didn’t have any powers. That was why all the testing every Tom, Dick and Harry agency put him though had never found anything.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say rather than reaching for those talents it was more like not pushing them away anymore. After those disastrous heartbreaking events where she’d lost everything, having, using, her friend’s powers were an reminder that was too painful to bear. Not able to stand it, she’d learned how to 'push' it all away and make herself normal. Well, as normal as she ever got. And it’d all began here in this place that haunted so many of her dreams.

Then suddenly during that game he'd made up, there was that big crunch where everyone ended crashing. Malik had smacked right into him, which really hadn’t concerned Alan that much. Doc’s super-suits were that good. The thing was this time a force-screen popped up around him and the teen had slid right off of him. That’d confused both of them, with Malik thinking he’d crashed into Lizzie.

Somehow Alan had gotten some of Lizzie’s powers, which had scared him witless, until he’d seen she was still alive. Then Maxi-Lizzie, the little girl’s clone, had flown by and it all became clear. Why Doc and the Air Force wanted to examine Max’s clones and why the Z-Ray was been used so often recently.

Part of what really bothered her was she didn't know how many had died. Val had no idea as to exactly why this quickening was so much less intense than the ones from before. Even the term made her give a bitter laugh, but unfortunately, it fit all too well. Her poor brother Pyotr, felt bad for days after showing her that bootleg copy of that movie because she’d freaked out so badly. “There can be only one,” be damned! Gaining power at the expense of other’s lives was something she had experienced for real and the price was far too dear.

One thing was certain. General Lying-to-Me Laramie had absolutely no clue what was really happening. If he knew what happened to her every time someone died under that gun, hell he would’ve disassembled the damn thing with his own bare hands.

Val, herself, wasn’t too sure of the details. Without somewhere with some privacy to work out just what powers had unwillingly been thrust upon her this time, she would be just guessing. Gawd! Over thirty of Max’s clones had been taken away for study. There was no doubt in her mind that Doc had been trying to make Max’s temporary clones into permanent ones.

The big convict because of his regeneration couldn’t be permanently brainwashed. You could briefly control him because of his vulnerability to mind bending, but his neural pathways healed from outside manipulation just like the rest of him did from normal damage. However, all his clones shared that same mental vulnerability, but they didn’t have that bull-like constitution and regeneration of his to resist lasting mental alterations. Hell, they were almost tailor made for the mind benders to screw with.

She could just bet that Laramie was just as happy as can be with his little army of brainwashed mutants. It also explained why Hathaway was looking so haggard. With all those kid’s minds to warp, who had time to sleep.

Which made Val wonder again just what epic disaster was on the horizon. With this new army of Laramie‘s, why did he still need the kids or Meridian at all? As much as she despised Hathaway and her lack of morals, she had to admit the woman was acting more human. Val could tell the mind bender didn’t like what was happening, but had found out the hard way that working at Area 61 was like making a deal with the devil.

Not that Val’s situation was lot different. She had a better idea now but couldn’t make herself tell anyone. Once again, she’d underestimated Doc. He’d done the impossible and made Pinocchio into a real boy. Hell, he’d brought the whole damn puppet show to life! The ones that hadn’t died in the doing of it.

Val jerked herself back to the present. This was no time to screw up. Maggie and Ollie nodded at each other, and holding their breath, turned the keys opening the door. Once again, it was Val’s turn to do her stuff. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself she took a short running leap. Agilely she danced through the maze of light beams and pressure plates to the junction box. Placing one of Maggie’s handy dandy gadgets and pushing its button, the labyrinth of defenses turned itself off while continuing to signal their unseen watchers that all was well.

Both of them ran pass her to Vault Number One. While the two of them were beginning their prep at that vault, Val hurried bringing up the equipment cart. By the time she hustled back to them, they’d marked where all their gadgetry needed to go. Peeling back the cover, Val drove back into Slow-Time.

Carefully, she placed the first of many devices. Absolute precision was called for but they had a strict timetable to follow. What would’ve taken Maggie and Ollie at least 20 minutes to setup; she had done in under a minute. Knowing there was no room for error, she took another minute to double-check each position.

Surfacing back into the normal time stream, she signaled it was ready. Picking up the heavy socket wrench designed for her hands, Val attached it to the fitting that served as the door’s key. It was designed be turned by a heavy machine driven shaft, but she could do it by brute force. Ready, she waited for her partners to give her the sign to begin.

Maggie held her hand up as one by one her indicators on her handset turned green. As it dropped, Val started turning. She saw Ollie’s eyes widen at her display of strength. When he’d known her as Vroom, she’d been stronger than any human. On her own, she had the might of 2/3s of The Rocketeers. Now, if not for Maggie’s careful design to maximize her power, she would’ve snapped the custom tool.

Val still took special care, since she now had an additional wild card to worry about, with the new powers she had unwilling inherited. She knew just how strong Lizzie was and combined with her normal supra-strength, it was very possible even this tool designed for the stresses she was putting it to could break. No way did she want anything screwing up this mission that she and Ollie had waited so long for.

She kept a watchful eye on Maggie, as her partner’s instruments were keeping track of the stress of the vault door’s internal components. Val sped up her wrench turning as Maggie urged her on.

They all breathed in relief as the lock disengaged and the door opened. Maggie slipped inside as soon as Val had it open enough. By the time she had it open, her partner had already doubled checked the alarms, and had moved to the coffins. Pushing in the cart, Val quickly unloaded the bladder and it’s accessories. No need for Slow-Time since Maggie needed time to deal with the coffin’s alarms and telltales.

With the pump ready, she began turning the crank. “Who needed a power source when you had her around?” Val grinned to herself. Again, she was thankful of Maggie’s robust design. Like clockwork, they switched to the next coffin as soon as the preserving fluid drained from the first.

While the second was being drained, Ollie and Maggie opened the first one, slipping Ollie’s parent onto the now empty equipment cart. Replacing the alien Gray’s body with the dummy created so long ago by their friends, the coffin was resealed and readied to be refilled.

Checking the clock, they were actually ahead of schedule. Ollie’s other two parents were also quickly recovered, and Val was pumping the preserving fluid back in. Wrapping them in the now empty bladder, she pumped the air out, giving a vacuum seal until they could be dealt with in a manner of Ollie’s choosing.

Dipping back into Slow-Time, she made sure their cleanup was thorough. Closing the door, Val was turning her wrench again. As soon as it clicked shut, Ollie and Maggie were checking their devices again.

By this time, Val was holding her breath. Something always went wrong on these little missions of theirs. Most times, it was minor, but she always felt is was better to get the required bad luck out of the way early. She could sense something not-so-good was building up, but wasn’t sure exactly what.

Driving back into Slow-Time again, she felt the luck almost tugging at her. Usually it was plain if it was going to be good or bad. This was different and Val found herself unable to resist being curious. Drifting lightly in the thick jello-like air of Slow-Time, she went deeper into the Vaults.

Further down the seemingly endless wide hallway, she found herself in front of Vault Number Nine. Remembering this was the one that whatever was in Elevator Shaft six now, she saw a nameplate. Reading it, her heart froze, as the event her luck had foretold became reality.

The rest of the mission was just a daze for her. They were lucky that she wasn’t really needed for anything major for their departure. Ollie implanted false memories in the fallen sentries and they shut the service way door just as the guards were being relieved.

Val found both her lover and her friend giving her strange looks as they figured out something was wrong. It wasn’t until they’d reached the safety of the clubhouse that she couldn’t take it anymore and let the tears fall.

Maggie hugged her, confused, asking, “Val what’s wrong? We got Ollie’s parents out. Why are you crying?”

Ollie just as befuddled, “Please talk to us my friend. We can see that something is gravely wrong. Please let us help.”

It took all of her willpower to choke out, “It’s Gus. Project Looking Glass is in Shaft 6.”

The memory of that terrible day swamped her again in hot burning tears.

Half-aware, she heard Maggie explaining it to Ollie.

“Oh Gawds. I guess the rumors never made it down here. You see Ollie, back in 1989, and it all came out how what really happened to The Rocketeers, it was a real media circus. Wild rumors were flying all over the place. Alan Glenn’s public announcement of his being Vroom and the Senate hearings were how I got involved in all of this.

“People were really upset that kids had been experimented upon and used the way Alan and his family had been, mutants or not. I’d been publicly advocating for mutant rights, and met Alan during the hoopla. Well one of the rumors came from a bunch of conspiracy theorists that claimed that his brother hadn’t died in the explosion. They said that Jeff Fuller had managed to use something called Project Looking Glass to exile Gus Glenn in some kind of other dimension or wormhole like thing. ”

Smoothing her lover’s hair she continued, “Of course, like usual, these people had no proof, just hearsay and innuendo. Perhaps they knew what they were talking about after all.”

Ollie said softly to her, “Val just because it’s Project Looking Glass in the elevator shaft doesn’t mean that it’s Gus.”

Shaking her head as her tears slowed, she disagreed. “No Ollie, it all makes sense. I guess I always knew he had to be alive somehow. It explains why I have everyone's powers but for his and Joyce's. He was after all the first of us to get zapped. Her powers must have went to Gus. Maybe that was why he went insane and changed the way he did. I know I nearly went crazy when I figured it out.

Think about it! This explains everything. Why had they reactivated Meridian and dragged me back here after so many years? Even the simulator programs indicate it. A few of them are against multiple opponents but most have the kids against Leviathan or another single real bad piece of news.”

“Even explains why they have Max’s clones running late night sim sessions versus the same programs. Fine tuning the programs my ass. Getting Laramie’s little army in shape probably in case the kids fail.”

Maggie just looked at her, questioning, as Ollie demanded, “Army? What army?”

“Doc Mac must’ve figured out some way of solidifying Max’s clones. He’s been using the damn zap gun on them. I don’t know for sure how many that’s died. All I know is someone with Lizzie’s powers died.”

Maggie asked her and she couldn’t hide the truth anymore. “How do you know that love?”

In a small voice that let even more tears spill out, she replied, “Because I have her powers now, just like I have my friends‘.”

Drowning in sorrow again, she heard Maggie and Ollie conversing about survivor’s guilt and shifting quantum states.

“Val,,” she heard Maggie say. “You have no reason to hurt so over all of this. None of it’s your fault.”

Angrily digging the barbs of her hurt deep into herself, she retorted, “Why not? Do you have any idea how much I so dearly wanted to be as I am now? A complete woman and not the male that puberty was making me more and more each day?”

Almost howling in her pain she cried, “All that had to happen for that dream to come true was my family and all my dearest friends to kill each other and leave me all alone!

“Ollie I know you can see how much I look like Alice now. I got my desire and I wish to Gawd I hadn’t! Now Gus is coming back, and even if he still isn’t some radioactive rampaging monster, how do you think he’s going to handle what happened?” Breaking down again, more tears came, but Maggie held her, drying them.

Ollie softly replied. “Val, it is true that you resemble Alice, but you still have the same eyes as always. I also can see some of Jeff, as well as the others as well. It wasn’t a curse my friend. I knew them as well as you. If anything, it was a final gift to one they dearly loved. I understand more now about what happened to Jeff and the full tragedy of those events that happened so long ago.

“Now however, we must rest and figure out what is best to do next. We’d planned to see about freeing Big Mac next, but this changes things. The creature that overcame Gus is indeed terrible, but not for one moment do I want you to believe that Gus would’ve willing done the horrible things that creature did. No more than that poor tortured man, cursed with being Leviathan, would he do such things of his own volition.

“I was here that day too. We both know what triggered Gus’s involuntary changes. Within us all are terrible dark places. It is our strength of character that determines how we deal with it. Your brother, my friend, didn’t have that choice as they ripped his control from him and released his black ID to wreak its havoc. That creature is more than capable of destroying this base and much more. We’re all at risk from its fury as well as any who cross its path.

“I have no idea what the General’s plan is, but letting the children face what we fear is coming is out of the question,” the Gray stated.

Big Mac voice answered from the speaker above them. “I believe I can at least partially answer that question. I do have access to the financial records from a group of contractors doing work at one of the nearby ranges.

“They laid a large grid of grounded conductive cabling and pipes. The system pumps a highly conductive gel. The substance is very heat resistant as well as having radioactivity damping properties. Along with a trolley rail system that’s been listed as completed, I believe Dr. McClellan means to transport, what we now know is Project Looking Glass, to this range. Then use Project Meridian to keep the former Capt. Blazzar trapped within until he is weakened enough to no longer maintain his energy form.” The AI concluded.

Ollie thought for a moment and replied, “In theory that might work, but it does assume that he can be weakened by such measures, and that it would result in his transforming back to himself. What do you think Val?”

Drying her tears, she looked up. “Gus did tire, and needed to rest to recharge those energy blasts of his. At least he did before Doc zapped all of us that last time. As for the kids stopping him, maybe. If Josh’s power can affect Gus, we have a way of blinding him, and with Malak’s magnetic force-screens, we have of a way of protecting against his blasts. So if they work together and support each other, it is possible.

“However with us not knowing any real facts, and with his being able to explode like a nuke, I give it a good chance some or all wouldn’t be walking away. There is no way except over my dead body that I’ll let them face Gus. If it has to be done, then me and whoever volunteers, but not the kids.”

Val smiled sadly, her eyes still red from crying. “I would say I’d do it alone, but I know better. You’ll just follow anyways. Smarter to plan the best we can using available resources. That way you won’t remind me how much of an idiot I tried to be for the next decade or two by attempting it by myself,” she said with a lopsided grin.

Maggie quirked an elegant eyebrow in response as she replied, “See, you have learned something in the twenty years we’ve been together. We do need to have another talk about what being truthful means. Ollie and I will check out how to move Big Mac tomorrow. I don’t think any of us are in shape to do any more tonight. When we have him secured we’ll make our escape.”

Nodding his agreement Ollie added, “I’ll send some of my remotes up the silo to make sure we can use the Rocket to escape and give it a good overhaul. It will be a tight fit but all of us can make it. We should go as soon as we can. Undoubtedly, you are correct when you surmise that they are still planning to use the Z-Ray on the children. With such a threat as Gus they wouldn’t dare not to use every resource.”

Val sniffled. “Saturday after the kid’s morning checkups. We can act as if we’re being rebellious and making another run to Dad’s. They should buy we’re celebrating after that week of sims. With a little luck that’ll give us a head start on any pursuit.”

Maggie smiled making refinements to their plan. “We can make for where I stashed the Family Car. It has a chameleon canvas and if we’re creative should be big enough to conceal even something as big as your Buggy.”

Looking up with a little of her old twinkle in her eyes, she asked amazed, “You brought the Car?

Smiling back her lover nodded, “Of course I did. I packed everything I could think of into it including our heavy combat rigs. I figure once there we could lie low until Ollie can take his ride and sneak off to Paradise. We’ll be near enough to respond whenever your brother makes his appearance and have the gear available to do something about it.”

Val, despite the shocks of the night, couldn’t help giving them a true devil may care grin. “Maggie you’re a treasure! That reminds me. I need to show you something Doc Mac cooked up for me when I used to be Vroom. It is almost certainly bugged and trapped five ways from Sunday, but the concept is a killer.”

Chapter 37

Tonopah, NV

Friday 26, 2008

ETWF: Minus 6 Days

Andrea dropped the greasy bag of fast food she was carrying in utter shock. ULTIMATE’s training academy may teach one how to be nonchalant in the face of danger, but bumping into him in a Micky Dees in Tonopah, NV wasn’t one of them. Somehow she kept her mouth from gaping open as, startled, he bent over to help her pick up her bag. Andrea found herself looking into those sky blue eyes as he smiled apologetically at her.

His file never mentioned how charismatic he was nor just how deep those blue eyes were. Peter Savitskiy. Peter the Great, Colonel in the Zolotoye-Yablochkoian Army stood before her dressed in possibly the loudest Elvis themed shirt she’d ever seen, with baggie shorts and flip-flops in front of the Yellow Arches.

“Excuse me miss.,” he said, smiling, in English without a trace of his origins.

Her vapor-locked brains somehow managed to identify that he spoke with the same soft southern accent as Alan Glenn. Andrea despite her surprise picked out at least three others with him. All were tall, broad and were obviously with Peter from their mirth at his clumsiness. Their seemingly good-humored joking, at odds with the careful way their eyes kept watch.

That sobered Andrea up fast. Peter the Great being here was one thing, but his being here with what was very likely an entire supra-special operations team was entirely something else. Forcing herself not to give the game away by showing that she’d recognized him, she hid her eyes, stammering an apology and hurried off.

Laughter behind her, gave her some assurance she wasn’t seen as a threat. While she wanted to run to her Hummer, she restrained her instincts. It was very important that she not give the slightest clue she was anything more than another customer of which billions and billions had been sold to.

By the time she’d walked around the corner, Andrea had come up with a plan of sorts. The inspector needed to know about this at once and she didn’t even dare to call, not with news like this! Fortunately, Rodger, who’d stayed in the Hummer so they could keep the A/C running in the burning hot Mojave noon sun, had picked up that she’d gone around the corner and followed.

Slipping inside the relative coolness, she ignored Rodger’s questioning glance. Smiling up at him, Andrea asked, “You had the Double Quarter with cheese right?”

Shrugging Rodger took it as just another screwed up part of this mission. Like the old joke about mushrooms, fed a lot of crap and kept in the dark. That said it perfectly. Rodger wasn’t the least surprised that he was asked to go away once they got back to their hotel room command post. Damn but he’d be glad when this job was over.

Breathless, his assistant dropped the grease-stained bag of American fast food upon his table. Philippe looked up at her over his glasses at the rudeness. He stopped as she ripped the bug detector from its case and checked the room. He closed the file he’d been working on and cleared his mind. She never would act so unless she was certain something of tremendous import was at state.

As she finished checking the room for surveillance, he asked, “Andrea, I take it that you have something of importance to tell me?”

She nodded breathlessly. “Yes sir. I just saw Peter Savitskiy and three others, whom I believe to be part of a team of some sort, at the Mickey Dees here in Tonopah. I came right back here. I don’t think they made me.

The inspector sat back considering the news. Then he rose, gathering his shoulder holstered weapon, and jacket. “Well done, Andrea. I think I’m going out for some air.”

Looking back at the disgusting greasy brown bag, he tried to avoid wincing. “Give mine to Rodger.”

She looked up at him concerned. “Are you sure you want to go alone, sir?”

Philippe sighed. What he had in mind could be considered treasonous. His career was nearly over and there was no reason to risk ending hers that was just beginning. He replied, “I’ll be fine. Trust me,” he said with a grin. In truth if Peter Savitskiy was here, it would take a lot more than the scant resources he had here to deal effectively with the situation.

Getting the keys and finding a place to park the oversized auto took him longer than the actual drive there to the American fast-food franchise. Because he knew Andrea would’ve objected to him leaving it, he'd taken his weapon with him. Taking his shoulder harness and jacket off, he left it in the truck. It wouldn’t make any difference for what was about to happen anyways. It was more important that he appear as nonthreatening as possible.

Stepping out, he felt eyes upon him almost at once. The large black American Hummer was anything but inconspicuous. Andrea was correct. It did look as if their friend Peter was here with a team. He counted four of them. Three seated with him, but another small dark man was at a nearby table positioned to watch the other entrance.

Approaching the table, the Frenchman thought back to the many other confrontations like this one that had occurred in the course of his career. The difference was usually he’d plenty of backup if he’d needed it. However the very organization he'd worked for had lost his trust and respect. Trust was a precious commodity, for when it was lost it was rarely recovered.

“Peter, imagine meeting you here,” Inspector Philippe Imbert greeted the supra-normal mutant.

Turning to face him, Peter showed no sign of surprise or recognition. “Do I know you?” he asked in idiomatic English.

Smiling the inspector replied, “You don’t remember me? I must admit it was years ago, but I couldn’t forget ever meeting you and your sister. Such a charming young lady, but always getting into such trouble! I seem to recall that she’s recently moved nearby. Are you here to visit? The resort she’s at is quite exclusive and very hard to reach.

“Now that I think about it, I do believe that another young lady was looking for her too. So pretty, you would think she was a model. Personally, I don’t see what the attraction is to these dry climes. Ah well, I’ll soon be retired back to France, while my comrades are conducting exercises out here in the sand. Just as well for these old bones are far too old for such things.

“You would think that so many young men and women like yourselves would be content to play the games of chance in the infamous City of Sin, but alas I sometimes think that all games are pointless.” Philippe could see those so intelligent eyes evaluating every word.

Peter sought, “Well…” at a loss for his name.

The burly man at the table made up the lack, “Phillipe Imbert.”

Giving him a smile, the Inspector nodded. “Exactly.”

Peter continued, “Well Philippe you know how it is. We would much rather be enjoying those games you spoke of, but unfortunately my sister is not there, but here. Honestly while this is an interesting place to visit, I would much rather be home and not be playing any games at all.”

Philippe smiled again. “Please excuse me for interrupting your lunch and enjoy your visit. Be careful. I understand some really bad weather is set to roll in the next few days. Real acts of Gawd, right out of the Bible.” With that, he turned and left.

Pyotr gave a nod, and as one, they all got up, dumping the remains of their meals in one of the trashcans by the door. Without a word, they climbed into their rented van. As soon as they were all aboard, he gave Bob a look fit to kill. “What just happened and who was that?”

The burly intelligence expert wiped sweat from his brow. “That was Inspector Philippe Imbert, the senior ULTIMATE investigator assigned to looking into your sister’s activities for the last several years.

Bob shrugged at Pyotr’s piercing glare. “I know and understand why what she’s been up to has been kept a very close secret. However, given the number of refugees she sent to us, you know people would be curious. For that matter, I’m one of the many she and her partner have rescued as well as our liaison to their Underground Railroad network.”

“With a raised eyebrow he asked Pyotr, “You do know that many of us rescued call the two of them Angels? Tech-Witch is ULTIMATE's code-name for your sister’s lover, but hers? The Inspector’s name for her is Athena while the official code name for her is Kali.”

Humorously he turned to Arghun, “I’ll bet you’d no idea that you were asking someone with such an amazing trinity of names to disrobe.”

The little dark man’s white teeth flashed in the dark tinted windowed van. “Ah! But the goddess was merciful and graced me with her blessing. Did she not proclaim to the world that I was a mighty warrior and a lover beyond compare?”

Ivan, curious, asked in a deep rumble, “How did your public, hmmm… display make you think that?”

Still grinning Arghun replied, “Because my large friend, only a mighty warrior could’ve walked away so attired before such an assembly of heroes without fighting for his very life. As for my talents as a lover, did she not herself name me so?”

“Somehow I think you’re being over optimistic, ‘Hunk-A of Burning Love’.” Ivan grinned back at the dark little man.

Pyotr waited for their banter to end before asking the question he knew most of them were waiting for. “So why aren’t we fighting for our lives right now?”

Bob shrugged again. “At a guess, I would have to say politics and an honest man. You see the Inspector is of the old school. He truly believes in justice and perhaps more importantly both sides of his family fought in the French resistance. From what he said about his upcoming retirement, I would say he was more concerned about doing what was right than a gold watch and a handshake.

“In not so many words, he also warned of significant ULTIMATE forces in the area. That, we were aware of already. What we didn’t know was the games that he hinted at. Exactly what is going on, I don’t know. I can only once again guess that whatever it is, he strongly disagrees with it.

“What I found most alarming was his warning about the weather. Since nothing unusual is forecast, I’m guessing he was alluding to whatever Valentina is mixed up in. I don’t think he knew any details but he fears it could be big.” Thinking about the inspector’s words a moment, he added, “Really Big.”

Pyotr sighed. He knew none of this was Val’s fault. It could not have been prevented, but that luck of hers got her into some of the most peculiar situations sometimes. “Yes, I got that too. It seems that my sister is sitting right in the middle of some onrushing calamity while everyone else is watching to see what happens.

“Trying to penetrate their security under such circumstances will be risky at best. Escaping afterwards will be even more difficult given the resources available for them to pursue,” he stated, for everyone’s benefit.

Seeing their nods, he continued. “As much as I very much want to go now before all this worsens, we’re just not ready. We’re not supposed to receive our equipment before tomorrow and have very little hard information about the installation. To complicate things, with all of these players in the area the odds of us being recognized again is very high.”

I think our best chance is to continue traveling to the next large city and to prepare to rough it in the field. By spreading our purchases around, we should avoid suspicion. Then we‘ll return and meet our contacts for the rest of our equipment.”

Bob started the van moving, while they started making the lists of supplies they needed and splitting up tasks. Pyotr closed his eyes, trying not to worry about Val and the increasingly bad news, as they got closer to her.

September 26, 2008

Area 61 Administration section

Maggie carefully replaced yet another PC access panel after gutting its insides for components. There were going to be a lot of unhappy IT guys come Monday morning. She pushed herself along on her purloined skateboard to the next workstation. Ollie’s workshop was a marvel considering what he had to work with. However, building a unit to house an AI was beyond it. Just the sheer number of memory modules necessary was staggering.

Getting the parts meant risking a raid on Area 61’s administration section. The good news was, after getting a peek at Big Mac, she was able to visualize the type of interface she needed. With her powers, assembling the device would take just an instant, but first she had to get those parts. The only source was Area 61 itself, and with it being after working hours on Friday night, hopefully her theft would go unnoticed until Monday morning. By then, they would’ve flown the coop.

However that meant she had to assemble Big Mac’s rescue unit tonight, right at the last minute. Like any tech, Maggie would’ve much rather had more time to test it, but the AI’s escape had to happen tonight. Time was getting too short.

Val was guessing that General Laramie would try to expose the kids on Sunday morning. Saturday was too obvious, even though they would try to be ready regardless. No, Sunday because of the General’s fixation on history, so he could pull a Pearl Harbor on them. He knew that they partied on Saturday night and wouldn’t be at their best the next morning. Perhaps he even planned to gas them all as they slept. Whatever it was, they should be long gone if all went well.

Maggie was almost happy for the hectic work for it took her mind off Val. She’d known that her lover had gained enormous power at the expense of her friends’ lives, but hadn’t known that in some way Val was still connected to that damn device. As best as they could determine, earlier subjects of this Z-Gun thing that had died hadn’t caused anything unusual to happen to her. More than one of those experimented upon had died, but when Jeff Fuller had committed suicide Val had known immediately.

It’d been like pulling teeth but according to Val, it’d been like being zapped by Dr. McClellan all over again. She’d even gotten ill like she did from the radiation from the real thing. However the most recently, the shadow, as she called it, was far less intense. Until Maggie said something, Val hadn’t even been aware of that glow.

If it was up to her she would blow the damn thing up herself, but she was well aware of the self-destruct device under the base. She couldn’t get close enough to it to defuse it even with her powers, and she had to assume that whoever would be manning the button at the other end had to be a raving paranoid fanatic. Failing that, being on the other side of the planet would have to do. Maybe Zolotoye-Yablochko was surround by enemies, but at least there, they would be among friends.

Reaching the next workstation, she removed the cover while her TK found the parts she needed. Pulling them out and adding them to the rest. She rolled on the next. The security about Big Mac was a breeze compared to the Vaults. Ollie and Maggie would take care of this one while Val was still recovering from the news her brother was in some form still alive. Maggie was just grateful that this time tomorrow would find them far from here.

Chapter 38

Saturday September 27, 2008

Area 61

Billie sighed as she looked unhappily into her bathroom mirror. It was time for him to come back. She’d taken to changing to Billie after classes were over for the day and then back to Bill the next morning. She found that she really enjoyed being able to dress in the pretty things in her closet. Even more, she loved the attention and help she received from Amanda and Malak.

Her gloomy expression faded into a smile. Okay she admitted, although Amanda had become perhaps her best friend, Malak was perhaps even more. Just spending time with her, talking and laughing made her happy in way she’d never experienced before.

A little startled Billie looked down at herself. She was uncertain how she felt about her, ung… reaction. Even if she could move things around down there so she looked like a real girl, she wasn’t. It did feel good, but getting hard down there rather than wet didn't seem right somehow.

Dr. McClellan and Dr. Hathaway had been fascinated by her ability to look like a girl, but their tests had shown that was all. It was only the appearance and none of the actual function. Billie had learned to stretch and distort her pliable form into a multitude of different shapes. However, no matter how malleable her body was, she could never really be a girl.

Today was testing day, so maybe she’d get a chance to ask one of the doctors about other options. Most of the adults had been okay with her being Billie but a few of them were not. She could tell by their eyes even if most did make a token effort to hide their disgust.

Well at least since today was indeed testing day, it was only a half-day and then she could be Billie for the rest of the weekend. Taking a deep breath, she let herself flow back into him.

Bill with his shoulders slumped forward went to dress in the boy stuff.

Breakfast was a little subdued, because even the normally cheerful Mr. Glenn was still feeling down. Oh, he still acted the same with his devil-may-care grin, but Bill could tell he hadn’t been same the last few days. Yesterday, he had hinted that they might be having another adventure in the Rocketeers’ team saucer. Bill did not have a problem with that. Dad’s burgers were great and after a week of this nasty stuff, they were all ready for some real food.

Bill found himself gently touching his teacher’s hand to get his attention. Not sure what he was doing, he asked with his eyes if the person inside, Val, that joyous dancing spirit, was alright.

Josh and Malik kinda stared at him because that just wasn’t the sorta stuff guys do. He ignored them, because this was important. This complicated person who was both Alan Glenn and Val had helped him discover Billie and that was a priceless gift that could never be repaid. Perhaps like Val had said, ‘It could only be paid forward.’

Still with that grin, Mr. Glenn tousled Bill’s hair, but he didn’t miss that wink his teacher had slipped in. With his usual energy, he chivvied them off to the labs. “Alright, everyone! It’s time for your favorite activity of the week! Go feed the Vampires, and make the guys in the white coats happy by spinning their hamster wheels.”

Malak grabbing Bill’s hand distracted him immediately. Blushing, he gave her a wide-eyed stare. She just laughed and dragged him along as Lizzie seeing the game wanted to play too. She took his other hand and start pulling too. Soon they were all giggling, with Josh and Malik rolling their eyes as the two of them bought up the rear.

Alan watched them go with his fingers crossed. He didn’t think Doc Mac and Lying-To-Me-Laramie had any double-crossing in mind for today, but they were in the danger zone where it could happen.

The kid’s had completed the teamwork simulations and yesterday’s last few runs were worrying. They’d been fighting this thing codenamed Kiloton that was far too much like what Gus had transformed into. Truthfully, Alan couldn’t say just what Gus’s monster was like since he’d been unconscious from almost the start.

What the simulation technicians had thrown at them was nothing but bad news. Standing about eight feet tall, the vaguely man-shaped glowing blob of energy was unbelievably dangerous. Electrical arcs flew all over the place, while a touch from the creature was hot enough to melt steel and bright enough to burn afterimages into your eyes.

The first time, the kids got waxed before they’d even known what’d happened. Alan helped them after that and since he’d already been thinking about how to handle Gus or Kiloton, he’d had some tactics in mind. He really wished Val and Maggie could try out this Sim but that was impossible. The computer kept records of everything. Given time, no doubt, Maggie could have it jumping hoops, but not in the time they had.

His sharp eyes had picked out traces that the simulators were used again last night. Probably, Max’s clones, that Doc had made solid somehow, were being put though their paces. It was definitely time to get the kids out of here while they still could. Watching the kids and the Sim the last few times had given him some ideas how to approach Kiloton and that would have to do.

Alan let out a deep breath as the doors shut behind them. Because they were in the danger zone, he’d kept himself charged with all of his powers. Because of that, he didn’t dare go anywhere near Doc Mac or the labs with all of their equipment. He didnt' think that Doc could pick up his 'fully armed and operational' status without a detailed examination, but he’d found out the hard way too many times about underestimating Doc Mac.

Speaking of which, he had no idea what to do about Max or those children. Alan was certain the big convict had no inkling what Doc had been up to with those examinations of those clones. If and when Max did find out, Alan had a feeling it wouldn’t be at all pretty. Max was a head case of the first water, but he had his reasons.

Ollie jerked him back to the present. “Alan I am picking an unusual amount of unease this morning.”

Alan was instantly on his guard. “Do you think Laramie stole a march on us? Are the kids being moved to the amphitheater?”

He could almost see his Alien friend’s shrug. “I don’t know. Someone might have simply discovered Maggie’s thefts from last night, or that Big Mac is not at home anymore. There are any number of things that could cause this disturbance.”

While they’d been talking, Alan had made an 180 back towards the labs, but then had relaxed a smidgen. Coming around the corner was ole General Lying-To-Me Laramie dressed as if he’d just come off the golf course.

“Relax the Condition Red, Ollie,” he told his friend. “I just found the General and he looks as if someone dragged him in here away from his golf game. If any of this were planned, he’d be in his dress uniform just like for a parade. Alert Maggie, but I think it‘s alright.”

Strolling forward casually, he opened his senses when he saw the phone in the General’s hand, wanting to get a clue about what was up. It started slowly, a feeling of apprehension and disquiet that moved into anxiousness. Alan almost stumbled as he recognized his luck singing out that a bad moon was rising.

After more than thirty years, he still had no better idea of what to expect. Were the General and his aides going to jump him, or maybe he was going to get some very unpleasant news? At any rate, he needed to find out what was happening. They had to get the kids out of here. There was just no way, he was going to let Doc and Lying-To-Me frak up another group of children’s lives.

As much as he wanted to just breakout of this joint, he knew that somewhere out there was a freaked out full blown case of paranoia with their finger on the firing button of that nuke under their feet. Alan had far too much contact with these people to think that they wouldn’t blow them all to atoms. The kids were living proof that the US of A had broken not one but several international treaties. Not to mention that having a head start while trying to outrun the entire US military would be nice.

He overheard the General say, “I don’t care if those bastards are ULTIMATE or not. They will stay out of my, AO, Area of Operations! Tell the interceptor boys that if they have to get radar locks to make the dumb SOBs get the idea that we will shoot their asses out of the sky, then do it.”

The voice on the other end of the conversation was clearly at his wits end. “That’ll work against those drop-ships, but you damn well know that it won’t slow down those SPAD Air to Space fighters. I’ll need authorization for the release of the F-19s.”

Laramie growled back, “If that’s what you need, you’ll get it. Just keep them out my No Fly Zone and out of my hair!”

Alan was almost abreast of the General’s little party of aides and brown-nosers, when Laramie turned and looked right at him. His luck was all but mourning doom now. Expecting bad news Alan gave him an iron stare right back.

He felt the shock as those implants Doc had placed within him sent their surge of drugs into his body. 'But Maggie had disabled them,’ he thought, as his legs failed and he tumbled to the floor.

Alan fighting his fading consciousness could still hear. “Yes, Dr. McClellan, you were correct. His implants had been disabled somehow, however your backup activation worked as you promised. Congratulations. Now excuse me, but I need to get back into uniform. No need to wait for me. You may begin the final phase of Meridian when ready.”

He couldn’t think clearly but somehow he reached for Ollie. Alan felt his friend trying to find out what’d happened, as he finally lost his battle and darkness claimed him.

Maggie’s heart turned to ice within her as Ollie told her of her lover. But she had disabled those damn things implanted in him. Somehow, there’d been something that she’d missed and now he was unconscious. They’d been wrong and underestimated both McClellan and Laramie. She’d screwed up. The children were being moved to be exposed to that Z-Ray thing while just what they were planning to do to Alan was still unknown.

She wasn’t any kind of hothouse flower nerd, and if push came to shove, she could likely break them all out. But. Yeah but. To do so would mean using her powers to cause all the machines and electronics down here in this pit to run amok. Precisely the very sort of thing that would freak out whoever controlled that damn nuke under their feet. Even with Ollie’s help, she didn’t think there was anyway to do this without making things worse.

The little alien was a study. He’d been preparing to leave the only home he’d known for almost 60 years. He’d a vest that was full of needful things along with a purloined suitcase of other keepsakes.

Without words or telepathy, the glance they exchanged told each other that they’d come to the same conclusion. As much as they both wished otherwise, there was nothing they could do.

Ollie sent sadly to her, “I understand, but for now we can do nothing but wait. While the children are in danger, we must trust that Dr. McClellan’s calculations are correct and they will survive. I’m more concerned about Alan. He is of no further use to them, and is held in great disdain by General Laramie. I fear he is in great peril.”

Maggie nodded having come to the same conclusion. The sanctity of life was of little value to people like these. From the beginning of this affair, she was growing quite tired of all of this. It was institutions and people just like these that’d caused her to devote herself to her quest so many years before. There was a helluva lot of payback due, and if anything bad happened to her dear lover and companion, having a nuke go off under their feet would be the least of these people’s problems.

Lizzie nodded sleepily as the nurse took some blood. Because of her force-screenie thingie was on all the time, they used sleepy stuff in the air so they could stick her with needles. She didn’t much like it, but the older girls had helped her deal with it. Besides after this was over, she was sure Mr. Glenn was gonna have a nice treat for them.

She thought they were going to take blood out but instead had something flowing in from a bag on a hat-rack thing. Someone told her it was all part of the test for today, but she really didn’t like that. It made it really hard to think. Only half-aware, she was pushed down the hallway.

Trying to make her eyes focus, Lizzie thought she’d stopped moving. Wherever she was it was really big and empty except for this huge thing hanging from the ceiling right above her. Another adult whispered in her ear that they were going to take some pictures like in an x-ray and she needed to be really still. If she was a good girl, they would make sure she got a big bowl of ice cream.

Everyone left, but just like they told her to, she tried to be real still. Then these red lights starred flashing while a very loud voice began counting backwards. Five, four, three, two, one.

She screamed as the universe tried to drown her in pure liquid light.

Dr. Courtney Hathaway watched as Alan Glenn was wheeled in on a gurney. Her part in this was almost over. Project Hydra was moving on to Phase C where her involvement was much reduced. The now 19 children had their new personalities in place and now would need only tweaking to iron any unexpected developments. They were doing sims now, placed into two teams of 6, one of 4 and one final one of three with all males.

She’d tried once more to get this portion of Project Meridian canceled. Courtney had been there when the Maxi-Lizzie clone had undergone a full power exposure. It'd killed her. Watching that little girl mutate into a form so bizarre that she couldn’t even describe it, was something Courtney was never going to forget. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore that they, the clones, weren’t human, feeling the pain and despair coming from her. Going over General Laramie and Dr. McClellan’s heads, she had appealed directly to OAR’s Director.

Courtney sighed. All her efforts to save the children, yes children, not subjects, had done was get her demoted back to looking after Alan Glenn once again. The technicians were hooking him up to the complex machine that would map out the regions of his brain that held the last few weeks of memories and burn them out.

This was a living reminder of why she had sacrificed so much for power, so that she wouldn’t end up where he was now. Examining him, trying to put her feelings aside, he was wearing that same scuffed jacket he had worn that day weeks ago when she had first met him.

Touching it, her eyes snapped wide open. Since the very beginning, she’d been able to read nothing about this enigmatic man until now. Her ability to read feelings and emotions from objects was always one of her least reliable, but what this single touch told her was all but impossible.

The jacket told many stories of cars and races and those who loved them. It recounted of the passionate person who’d survived so much pain but was ardently determined to keep such from taking place again. A person who had feminine passions as well as a woman’s heart and soul.

Many things that’d baffled her about him became clearer. It explained why she had problems understanding him and of why their vibes simply didn't match. As well as why the children had grown so close to this male who defended them. Standing there lost in thought as the last connections were made she came to a decision.

“We’re ready Doctor,” the head tech told her.

She nodded, “I’ll do it.” Walking over to the console, she smiled distracting everyone as her telekinesis secretly changed the machines' settings. “Goodnight Mr. Glenn, I hope it was good for you too,” she said, with much the same sarcastic tone as he so often used upon her.

One of the tech sniggered, but it was said for their benefit. Sending to him telepathically, hoping he would remember, she whispered, “They wanted you to forget all of this, but I think that I’ve prevented that. Godspeed Alan Glenn, whoever, whatever you are. ”

Many rooms away a small Gray Alien worrying for his friends and future sat up, hearing a message meant for another. Quickly he sent Maggie a message that all was well and her intervention would not be required to save their friend. To himself, he marveled again at this primitive yet so complicated species. Perhaps there was hope for them all after all.

To be continued.

The Great Escape Begins!

Malik screamed as his body arched from shock and pain. The heavy restraints groaned as he fought with all his strength to escape the agony that thundered into him from that machine suspended above him.

It was just suppose to be another test, like so many others they’d all suffered through the last few weeks. They’d given him something that made him kinda floaty and relaxed, saying that it was better he be conscious than asleep; something about getting better results. But by that time, the drugs were already doing their thing.

He’d been feeling no pain when they’d wheeled him into that huge stadium-like room. Maybe this test was like a x-ray, he mused, as red lights started flashing and a voice started a countdown. At Zero the agony began.

Conscious thought left him. It wasn’t like the pain from injuries he had while playing sports before his mutation. This was as if he was being torn apart and examined from his bones to the very thoughts in his head. Even the things he’d even hidden from himself or forgotten were all ripped to pieces and studied.

However the worse of it was that it went on and on, seemingly forever.

The next thing he remembered was yanking himself upward, shivering in shock, the tattered remains of the bands and steel still fastened to him where he ripped them free.

Forcing his mind to work, he saw they were all still in the labs in one of the wards. He heard a girl’s scream that was lost in a screech of tortured steel being torn. Lizzie, his brains tried to tell him. A scared, frightened Lizzie who’d been through the same thing he had. Hands shaking he tore the remains of his own restraints from him. Malik wasn’t sure what had been done to them, but no one wanted that powerful little girl going into a berserk tantrum.

Stumbling to his feet, he had to help her. He steadied himself as a wave of nausea passed though him. Fighting off the urge to gag he stood by pure willpower. Still shaking, he promised himself something afterwards. He would find out just what in the hell had happened, and perhaps he would be having a tantrum of his own.

Amanda cried out, waking from the terrible nightmare that had no end. Her stomach was in knots, and she needed to void herself, now. However she was tied down. The constant light breezes that had bedeviled her ever since her change now howled around her like a tornado.

“Hold on Girlfriend” a familiar voice shouted over the storm.

Suddenly she was free and, appeased, the winds slackened. Limply she slumped to the floor, trying not to spew. On all fours Amanda weakly looked up. She saw two scientists cowering in the corner. What in the hell had happened?

Then Malak, supported by her magnetic power, eased down next to her. Sweat covered her friend and her pale face was even whiter. Whispering she suggested, “Let’s get to that sink before we both make a bigger mess.”

Nodding, Amanda pulled herself up. Feeling her girlfriend’s power help support her she hoarsely gasped, “Thanks.”

Malak weakly nodded back, obviously fighting off her own nausea, but somehow they made it before throwing up.

She heard the other of her friends having their own problems. A glance showed Malak’s brother tearing himself free of the reinforced bed they had him tied down to. Even though he looked ill too, the muscular teen ripped the straps from him as if they were no more than wet paper.

A scream and explosion of bed parts shifted her attention. Lizzie! She looked as sick as the rest of them. “Mr. Glenn, Vroom,” she cried in her misery.

She gave Malak the same look Amanda knew was on her face. “Oh Shit!”

Still bent over the sink trying not to heave again, they both knew that pint sized potential natural disaster had to be seen to now.

Stumbling, the girls headed that way, using the other beds to help them stand. This was all humbling, given since her life had changed, this was the first time she’d felt anyway other than energetic and healthy. That thought brought back the Nightmare. Every nasty thing she’d ever done to anyone or anything had been pulled out of her and thrust in front of her face.

Shaking her head, Amanda pushed those memories away. There was no time for that right now. Malik was already moving to help Lizzie like she and Malak were. Josh was still strapped down, but Billie had oozed out of hers like climbing out of a sleeping bag.

“Shhh honey,” she tried to calm Lizzie.

The smaller girl, crying and spewing, herself, had crushed one of those huge metal medicine cabinet things.

Amanda stopped, unsure what to do. Lizzie needed to be hugged and consoled, but sick she might hurt them, as strong as she was.

Billie solved that by throwing herself into the distressed 6 year old's arms. “It’s alright now Lizzie. Everything's going to be fine.”

Both she and Malak winced as the little girl turned and grabbed onto the stretchable teen with all her heart. Billie’s eyes bulged from those same arms that had trashed the heavy bed meant to hold the strongest people alive, but not once did she complain.

Not wasting a moment they too were soon hugging and comforting the sick child.

Malik seeing how the girls had everything in hand had found a small trashcan to relieve his own problem.

She was half-aware that Dr. Hathaway had come in and was explaining something about bad drug reactions, but Amanda was too lost in her own and her friends pain and illness.

“Amanda,” Ollie sent to her, “It’s alright. Don’t let the Doctor know I’m talking with you all. I’ll explain what’s really happened."

“What’s happened to Mr. Glenn? He wouldn’t let them do something like this to us?” she thought back at the Gray.

Still in the group hug she listened to the castaway alien as he explained.

Chapter 39

Monday September 29, 2008

Area 61

“Alan,” a voice cried out to her. She didn’t want to listen to anyone wanting to talk to him. But the safe dark place was growing lighter now and the places to hide were growing harder to find. Val knew that she would need to wake and to be him again. She also remembered it’d been her own choice to go back to being him. It’d been the only way to try to bring justice to those who’d caused her such heartache and pain.

“Alan,” it said again. The light was brighter now and the concealing shadows were fading away. He had always been something to hide behind. In her heart, she guarded her true self. When Justice had not been forthcoming, she’d taken it upon herself to help. To help all those, who like the ones she’d loved so dearly, had been besieged by the unscrupulous who twisted the laws for their own ends.

“Alan,” thrice it called. Unwillingly she put herself behind The Him, and pulled herself awake. “Yeah, I’m awake Mom. I don’t wanna go to school.”

Ollie replied dryly, “I’m not your mother, but please keep yourself calm. You must pretend to be still asleep while I explain what has happened. Your implants had some kind of fail-safe activation sequence. General Laramie used it to knock you out last Saturday.”

“Well that explains why my head is killing me. At least I’m not the only one who underestimated Doc. How long have I been out?” Alan asked.

“Two days,” Ollie answered.

Remembering Saturday, a cold shiver ran down his back. Trying to remain still he asked, “The kids! Are they okay?”

Alan could hear Ollie’s mental sigh, “With you unconscious, Maggie and I didn’t dare try to interfere. They were exposed to the Z-Ray, but have suffered no lasting ill effects. They have all recovered and are fine. What concerns us is you. They had you hooked up to a machine that was to erase your memories of the last few weeks. For some reason beyond us, Dr. Hathaway intervened. It is imperative that you play along and pretend you still think it is the first of September.”

Alan gave a mental nod, sighing. They’d failed to save the kids from getting zapped by Doc, but at least it seemed they’d survived. Doc, had outwitted Maggie, but what galled him was that Laramie of all people had outfoxed him. “Alright what’s happening right now?” he asked.

“Security is very unhappy my friend,” Ollie answered. “They found nearly every computer in the administration section stripped of parts. In our favor, no one has discovered that Big Mac has lost his personality. Apparently he started some kind of cover for himself by arguing with his handlers that if they just wanted him to be ‘a dumb, stupid computer so that will be what they will get‘. This is not the first time he has been difficult, so his ruse should buy us some time.

“However once they start putting the pieces together it won’t take them long to figure out our little puzzle. Then we will have a problem. Big Mac’s escape will have them searching every square millimeter of this facility. My precautions and blinds have withstood many years of inspections, but a determined search will reveal the club house and my quarters,” Ollie pointed out.

“Maggie is still upset at herself that she missed the 'backdoor' in your implants. She is working on what happened as well as something else, but is keeping it a secret. The Rocket is prepped and my remotes show that the silo is usable."

"Big Mac’s portable rescue unit is functioning within tolerances, but was meant to be only an electronic lifeboat. It was never intended for long-term use. My parents’ bodies and matrixes are in perfect preservation in their vacuumed formed shrouds.

“The children as I said before are in good health but confused. They all found the experience unnerving, and I’ve been helping them deal with that. Josh and Billie have already surmised what happened and are not happy. As you can imagine Josh is quite angry. At first, it was at you for failing to get them out in time, but now it is at our gracious hosts. Billie was very worried about you, and apprehensive of the Air Force’s plans for them.”

“The immediate problem is finding the opportunity to attempt another escape, but this time without Big Mac’s help with the security systems. You’re under high security and is scheduled to be shipped out soon. The children are being watched very carefully as they are testing their improved abilities,” Ollie concluded.

Aware of all the problems, he said, “I know Ollie, but we have to find a way. We, I, screwed up and we got beat to the punch. Whatever is happening with Project Looking Glass and Kiloton will go down soon. We have to get them out before then.”

Ollie said back, “Kiloton? Not an inappropriate name for the creature. Don’t worry my friend we will find a way out.”

Preparing himself for the role of a lifetime, Alan replied, “I know we will. I just wish right now that I knew just what in the hell it was!”

With that, he opened his eyes and as precisely as he could remember, duplicated the same actions upon waking as he did those weeks ago when he arrived.

Pyotr looked on rather amused as Arghun poured water over his head. The small man had gone out in the desert Saturday as soon as they had arrived at their soon to be base camp. They needed first hand information on conditions around Area 61 and the tough Kazakh was their best scout.

Arghun reported, “The Inspector was correct. The Heavy Assault Brigade is training out here. More important to us is they are aggressively pushing at your dear sister's prison's boundaries. The place has sensors of every type, as well as being carefully patrolled, but with these incursions, their response teams are heavier and include attack aircraft as well as helicopters. They are good Pyotr, but perhaps rely too much on their technology.”

“I think I can find us a path through, but it is going to take me two, maybe three days for me to do so. Our egress could also be a problem. Escaping through the desert would be difficult. It would be too easy for them to cut us off using the roads and aircraft.” Arghun finished, looking at the rest of the team as they worked on checking their equipment and other gear.

Pyotr looked to Bob, who’d been listening. “This does confirm what you’ve told me. I think we will have to risk the use of the Kusbegi to retrieve us. Bob, you and Arghun confer and find us the best place for a Landing Zone, LZ.”

Neither man looked happy because they both knew how chancy it was having a Zolotoye-Yablochko aircraft pick them up on American soil. Whether blessed or cursed, their nation had been involved with bringing down more than their share of the giant Alien Gray bombardment spacecraft. That even included one intact. Though perhaps relatively in one piece might be a better term. Something that big makes landing it a little tough. The good news was it had plenty of the smaller fighter sized saucers on-board.

Much to ULTIMATE’s dismay they’d kept every single nut and bolt they could haul back to their little nation. After all, to the victor go the spoils.

Other nations’ bounty of the Alien tech had been reduced, by one reason or another, as they discovered the myriad uses of having dependable spacecraft that could easily travel from the Earth’s surface to the moon with no more difficulty than a transoceanic flight. Every agency wanted a piece of the pie. The Americans, for instance, had space programs, the Pentagon, and many others all desiring a share.

Zolotoye-Yablochko by contrast had none of those and consequently had more than they could make use of. Given the many geniuses and scientists of questionable sanity that lived there, many of the Alien craft were modified for special purposes. One of those was for special operations support, which was such a vital part of their nation’s defense planning. Naming them Kusbegi, after the renown Kazakh hawker/hunters, they were as stealthy as their re-builders could make them.

As sneaky as the elite Kusbegi pilots were, if they were discovered then 'In the three-ninth kingdom, they would be shown where the lobsters spend winter.' Or as his sister would say, 'if they were found in the land of the free, there would be hell to pay'.

He and Bob had talked about how to justify their actions to the international community if they were discovered, and none of their ideas were appealing. The best one was the truth. The Americans were illegally holding the daughter of the President of Zolotoye-Yablochko and they’d rescued her. That would mean giving up the carefully hidden lie that had protected Pyotr’s extended family from the public and harm. Still, if it kept the diplomatic disaster of being found out, down to reasonable levels, it was a price he knew his father would pay to have his wayward daughter safe.

Still no need to “To make an elephant from a fly,” not yet. Picking up the secure sat-phone, he had some serious explaining and work to do.

Bill slipped through a crack and turned around, marveling that his mutation let him compress himself so thinly. He knew full well what’d caused it. Just like with the Rocketeers long ago, he and the rest of his friends had been 'zapped' as Mr. Glenn called it.

Dr. Hathaway had come in while they were still sick and recovering. She’d told them that they had a bad reaction to some medicine. He hadn’t believed it for a moment. Reading about the Z-Ray in that comic book had made the whole deal seem so corny. He sure didn’t think so now. How do you describe being pulled apart and yet crushed at the same time? And that wasn’t really even close what it’d really felt like. There simply weren’t words for it.

When the Doctor said that Mr. Glenn had been paid and had gone home, Bill knew that once again she was lying to them. He’d been so afraid that something really bad had happened to his teacher that he respected so much. To his relief, Ollie had told them the whole story. That the Air Force had went back on their promise to Mr. Glenn to not use the Z-Ray, but had knocked him out as well as tried to mess up his memories.

They’d all been warned that Mr. Glenn might have to pretend he didn’t know them. Ollie and Mr. Glenn were still looking for a way for them all to get out. He’d been worried that Lizzie wouldn’t understand but she’d taken it in stride. In the meanwhile, they were all being run to death in the labs being tested using that scientific stuff rather than Mr. Glenn's Dojo.

Bill knew he preferred his sensei’s measuring eye over these bozos in the white coats with their clipboards. His friends looked like they liked Mr. Glenn’s way of doing things a lot better too. Lizzie, displaying a rare temper tantrum, had tossed a forklift into the observation booth, after they’d forced her to lift one heavy weight after another. She’d been strong before but now she was like something out of a comic book wearing red and blue.

Considering what he knew about what had been used on them, he was thankful none of them had grown horns or something worse. The only one of them that looked different was Amanda. Her dark hair had grown even longer, all the way to her waist. Of course, like him and Lizzie, all of their powers had grown a lot stronger.

Bill hadn’t believed his own abilities could be increased all that much. All he did was stretch after all. He’d been wrong. Before, he’d gotten harder the more compact he’d made himself and softer the larger. Now he could control how dense he was in any part of himself. He could even lengthen his hair and even change the color now, although he hadn’t let anyone see that yet. That was something he was still experimenting with in private, but he wanted to have an advantage if he needed it.

Josh had a hole card too now. He not only could control what others saw, he now could also see through their eyes. Malik, while he’d not received anything like that, had gotten tougher, a whole lot tougher. The nurses tried to take blood samples and had gotten nothing but bent needles.

He was sure that they would discover more things they’d gotten from the Z-Ray, but Ollie had warned them that the thing in the simulators that they‘d been fighting, Kiloton, was real. That was why Meridian had been brought back and they were supposed to stop it. Bill had turned pale when he’d figured it out. Capt. Blazzar had blown up like a atomic bomb, and he’d read about those guys who thought he’d been imprisoned in something called Looking Glass, like the Phantom Singularity from AC Comics.

Kiloton was just the codename for the monster their teacher’s brother had become. It was kind of fitting seeing the kind of explosions it could make. Bill had kept that part to himself so far. He knew just how powerful that monster had been, but he was also aware that General Laramie and Dr. Hathaway were untrustworthy because they’d repeatedly lied to them.

Moving on to the next test to see how far he could stretch now, he put his doubts aside. Mr. Glenn was still with them and so was Ollie. They would find some way out of this mess.

Master Security Control for Area 61
Location: Top Secret.

All morning they’d been jumping down his throat. Why, the man known as Operative Number 11, didn’t have a clue. They could see the video recordings as well as he could. There was just no damn sign of how someone had broken into Area 61 administration section and ripped off a shit load of computer parts.

Yeah, a couple of hard drives had come up missing, but most of it were memory modules and other components. Number 11 had a feeling that this theft was just a footstep and the real problem hadn‘t been discovered yet. However it was up to the tech boys to look at what had turned up missing and show them where to look.

Their control area was set up much like the old missile silos from the cold war. Two men crews, each with a key, required simultaneous action to activate Wildfire. Screening for the position was tough, but you had to prove you had what it took to push that button if it looked liked the Pandora’s Box that was Area 61 was about to be opened.

They’d been under a lot of pressure the last week or so because something Big was getting ready to happen. It was all too possible that glowing red Balrog eye would be needed. And if so, they would find him ready to do his duty.

Maggie closed her tired eyes. She felt so guilty about her failure to catch that damn backdoor system hidden in her lover’s implants. That was why they were still trapped here. That was why those kids had been irradiated by Gawds knows what, but thank the same Deity that they’d all survived.

The damn thing was devilishly clever. Maggie had went into the implanted device and decided that the best way was to simply bypass the power leading to the drug reservoir pump. That way no one would suspect the thing wasn't fully operational.

What she didn't find was the invisible passive RFID circuity printed right onto her lover's very skin. It was a complete backup copy of the implant lacking only the drugs. What she had thought was only a clever antenna was actually a link between implant and RFID. When Laramie pushed that button, it first tried to activate the one she'd disabled, but it also turned on the second.
It told her a couple of things. One, maybe Ollie's presence down here wasn't as secret as they thought, and two, that device had really only one purpose, to knock out Alan Glenn. Everything else including the tracker was a red herring. And she had completely missed seeing it. Pride does go before the fall.

Before her were the scattered parts of what was to be a gift for her beloved. The design had come from Dr. McClellan's supra-speed-suit. She’d been warned that it would probably be trapped and/or bugged to track the wearer. Her own ego had caused their escape to fail once. There was no way she was going to let it happen again.

Taking the entire thing apart, she found that she’d missed, not one, but several very subtle devices that could cause unwanted effects. One of them was the coating on the armor plates that caused an ionization trail which could be tracked when the wearer reached a certain velocity.

She had to trash the entire thing and started over using the original design only as inspiration. It was undeniably a work of genius, but twisted. She’d been bitten once, it would not happen again, she vowed.

Ollie had assured her that the Buggy was free of such worries, but each of the kids also had a purpose built suit to allow them to get the most from their powers. It was certain that they too were fixed as well. She’d had Big Mac in his box running the simulations for her, looking for surprises. The grateful AI had thanked her for giving it something to do.

Maggie knew she had a temper. Generally, she kept it under control. One of the things that made her and Val’s partnership so effective was how they complemented each other. Her fiery passion and Val’s devotion to justice balanced out nicely. However, there were times she just had to let her inner bitch out. Now was one of those times.

It was easy for her to come up with code as fast as she could think. Maggie had fed it to Big Mac where upon the AI refined it into one truly nasty piece of work. Even as pissed as she was she put in safeties, but until it hit those limits, it was going to do some serious ass-kicking.

She’d already fed in the new final design for her partner’s supra-suit to Big Mac where he was giving it the last run over. One of the things she’d made sure of was, superficially, the new suit looked like the original by Dr. McClellan. The difference was if they tried to access this baby they would get one hell of a surprise.

Looking over at Ollie who was working on his own project, she had to break into a smile. Who said revenge couldn’t be sweet and ironic?

The Gray, noticing her attention, wondered what was the cause of that rather unpleasant smile of hers. He decided that there were some things he just did not want to know.

Chapter 40

Tuesday September 30, 2008

Area 61

Elisa-1 stood passively as the technicians connected her to the simulation bubble. Gazing at her reflection in the shiny equipment, she once again wondered at that small scar on her forehead that she did not remember receiving.

Her memories told her she was six years old but very mature for her age. However, that just did not feel right, because sometimes she could almost recall more. Even the image of the African-American girl with her dark hair seemed wrong. However, what kind of girl would be bald? It was all so confusing.

The men around her, finished, signaled her with a tap on her shoulder to climb inside the bubble. Looking around her, she saw her sisters and brothers climbing into theirs too like they had been told. It was very important to do what they are told. A flash of insight made her wonder that, if these five are her sisters and brothers, where were her mother and father?

The overwhelming compulsion to obey overcame her hesitation, and she climbed inside. As soon as she did, the world transformed itself and information flowed to her. Their target was located at the range. It was identified as Kiloton.

Quickly with their cousin teams, they converged on their objective. This was not the first time they had faced this opponent. Sometimes they succeeded, but always casualties were heavy.

Fearlessly the child warriors threw themselves into battle, ignoring their casualties as the monster slewed them. Their masters were pleased.

Alan Glenn sat cross-legged in his cell. Several flunkies had come in and quizzed him, making sure their flashy-thingie had wiped his memories. His own talents made it easy to come up with the answers they wanted. However, he hadn’t come up with anything that could help get them out of here. The situation had grown static and it seemed Doc and Lying-To-Me Laramie was content to leave him here. At least they didn’t march the kids in front of him, forcing him to pretend he didn’t know them, which had been one of his fears.

Sometimes he was just too maternal for his own good. That oxymoron gender crossed comment made him smile inside. Whatever was to come in his life, it was clear he would finally be able to let Alan Glenn go once and for all. Like a pair of shoes on the wrong foot or too tight, this uncomfortable portion of his life would be over. He would be free to release her inner-self.

His adoptive family knew most of his story and quite frankly thought his whole Quixotic quest insane. Why inflict so much pain upon yourself raking over old wounds and memories? His reasons made sense to him at the time, but now in retrospect he could see his family’s point of view.

You would think that after so long he would’ve made peace with what had happened. That might be what anyone else would have done but he hadn’t. He buried it under so much guilt and other feelings he couldn’t even begin to sort them all out. It wasn’t until he admitted to himself that Gus might still be alive that he actually could start to deal with it.

Ollie might call himself a tech geek, but the Gray made a right decent therapist. What Alan had been through would’ve been traumatic for anyone, and his gender problems just complicated everything. The thought that they could somehow rescue Gus from the Monster, Kiloton, that he'd become, had shocked him out of his shell. If he, Alan, had been torn up by survivor’s guilt, what would his poor brother feel since his berserk alter-ego had done the deed?

Sighing, he tried to meditate again. There was no reason to wait any longer. Time was not their friend. Ollie had picked up from an unshielded civilian worker that they would have a long weekend, with the base being closed for some reason on Thursday and Friday. No matter if it was because of the Air Force looking for the stolen computer parts or for Kiloton’s breakout, it would be a good idea to be gone before then.

It was just a question of timing. His security was slacker than the kids, so he should be freed first. Then a good old Blitz on the kid’s dorm followed by a run to the Buggy and blast off. Without Big Mac to help cut out the security cameras, the faster they could move the better, so the fewer people they ran into the better.

So set the breakout for late night when everyone is home and security was at its lowest point. That wouldn’t help much because the zoomie cops here were very good at their jobs but every little bit helped.

Alan continued working on his escape plan to present to the others, trying not to pay attention the whispers from his Luck of proverbial dark clouds upon yonder horizon.

Sapphira Heron sat at the café that reminded her of home even though it catered to an American’s version of France. The man across the table from her also brought back memories of home; that of her grandfather. That old man had been formidable in his time, surviving events that had broken many of lesser spirit. Such could also be said of this French Inspector.

A founding member of the GIGN, French Special Forces group, he had been very active in the early activities of ULTIMATE. As the organization gained experience, he made quite a reputation for himself as an investigator. A quiet man, he never sought the limelight like so many of his ambitious contemporaries, but simply did the job he did the best.

As the more radical anti-mutant movement gained support, he was shuffled off to less important cases. That was until the pair code-named Kali and Tech-Witch started becoming such a thorn in ULTIMATE’s side. He was always assigned the cases that other investigators had given up in disgust and this one was no different.

SRT One had been briefed on those two, but since they seemed to strike randomly, rescuing mutants from arrest, it was unlikely that they would actually meet. Since they faded away like ghosts after each engagement, by the time the dithering bureaucrats had given her the authority to act, they were long gone.

She had faked an equipment failure on her armor earlier in the day so she could make this meeting. Her teammates were covering for her, despite their official watchers, while she was away. She was finding she had less and less enthusiasm for playing this game anymore. This week of dealing with the fanatical Heavy Assault Brigade had been wearying beyond belief. The limitations placed upon her team while they played fox to the idiots' hounds were unrealistic and more than once she wanted to unsafe her weapons and show them just who really was predator and who was prey.

Maybe that was why this meeting with this dignified representative of the old school was making such a good impression upon her. Dinner had been a relaxing affair, and once again being old school, business would not be discussed until afterwards. She could tell he was not a food snob like the stereotypical Frenchman, but that he did enjoy a good meal.

He raised his glass in a toast. “May wisdom always prevail, for the cost is too high when it fails.”

Raising her own in response, she toasted, “Opa!”

Lowering her glass she asked, “I didn’t think you’re suppose to toast yourself.”

Inspector Imbert replied with a smile. “I was toasting us both. I will soon retire and you too are soon to depart this glorious service,” he said with bitter sarcasm. “We are both being given a most unwelcome departure gift. The reason why we are all here, including our dear comrades in the UHAB, is that the Americans have a little something going on in the desert,” he explained, raising his bushy brows and taking another taste of his wine.

Sapphira gestured for him to continue as she considered his words.

Putting his glass down, he gestured with his hands. “I don’t know all the details but our superiors believe that it is going to be very big. However, my investigations have hinted that they are totally in the dark as to the true scope of the event as well. If they were disposed to listen to me, I might warn them but that brings me to my, our, next quandary.

“Both of us and our subordinates are being set up so no matter what happens we will both be guilty of something. No matter the circumstances, I’m sure they will think of something appropriate.”

She answered, “I'm sure you know that for Supras working within ULTIMATE that is not an unusual situation. Why is this time any different?”

The Frenchman sat back in his seat. “Because of the sheer size and scope of what I foresee happening. At the very least, it will have international consequences, and perhaps even world-altering ones. Some unknown event prompted the American military to take a chance on reactivating one of their Ultra-soldier programs. This action on their part has caused ripples far beyond what they thought or prepared for. One of those caused me to be here as others have brought your SRT and the UHAB. I have seen yet others and the fates only know who else has been drawn here.

“I think our board of directors is trying to use this to their own purposes, but when whatever genie escapes from the Air Force’s bottle, it will be unmistakable. Who is out on the front lines available to stop this? Your and my little groups? We will of course do the best we can, but then the UHAB will fly in to save the day. It will be a truly rare disaster of momentous proportions, a perfect storm of events. Such errors demand that someone must be found at fault, and I will only give you two guesses as to who,” he concluded, gesturing at himself and her.

She turned thoughtful. “So SRT One will for once get the go ahead to go in first. What makes you think it will be something my team can’t handle?” she asked, curious at just what the American military had that could potentially overcome her people and the UHAB.

He smiled again. “At my last count, bearing in mind I don’t know that I have found all the players yet, there will be at least a dozen supra-humans involved. Of them, about half will be as highly trained as your people. The other half may lack the level of training but may very well be quite powerful given possible augmentation by their Ultra-soldier research programs.

“This doesn’t include whatever made them risk international censure by reactivating the program to begin with. What makes this all the more complicated is some of them will be there for their own reasons, possibly at cross-purposes with each other.” He finished.

Sapphira found herself smiling back at him. “You really are an old rogue aren’t you? You play the indignant bureaucrat very well. According to our briefs, there is nothing unusual going on out here, but considering what kind of training we have been assisting the UHAB with, it agrees well with your story.

“Assuming events unfold as you outlined, what do you expect of me? Your team is an investigation detachment while SRT One has a different mission,” she pointed out.

Taking another drink of his wine he answered, “I’m hoping that if everyone has more information, this won’t turn into a totally confused brawl where nobody wins. We both know how corrupt our leadership has grown. The hatred for those who are different by an accident of birth is an insanity that we just can‘t seem to outgrow. Rather than live up to our original charter to serve and protect, they‘ve chosen to instead sacrifice others for their own goals.”

She looked at him intently, weighing his words before replying. “You’ve given me much to think about. If you’re correct about their using my people as a forlorn hope, then I’ve some decisions to make.”

She sighed, wishing she’d something with more of a kick to it than the wine. Fearing she already knew the answer but having to have to know, she asked, “Can you tell me more of these Ultra-soldier augmentees? Are they volunteers or were they blackmailed into this?”

For the first time this evening, he hesitated. “Ms. Heron, they are children between the ages of 6 and 17. They were chosen, because as I understand it, there is a window of about six months after their metamorphosis that this process is most effective. I don’t have complete information about how the Air Force got custody, but I do know their parents weren’t fully aware of just what they were signing.”

“That is one of the cross-purposes I mentioned. It is possible that they and their teachers may be trying to escape, and there are others from outside wanting to aid them,” he said.

Enlightenment flashed before her eyes. “Kali and the Tech-Witch are there aren’t they? That’s how you were led here.” It made sense. She recalled that report of Kali single-handedly trashing that company of drop-ships and power armor suits. Her own suit would be hard pressed to accomplish the same thing because of the danger of being overrun by the Peacekeeper troopers.

The Inspector’s smile turned into a grin. “Yes, but perhaps not the way you might think. I prefer the name Athena rather than Kali, but I think, unknown to the authorities, she is one of their instructors. I tried to keep the details sparse so you could evaluate the situation without any preconceptions. All of this is going to be complex and confusing enough as it is, without more problems for you when you arrive.”

She shook her head. She didn’t need to ask who was leading the research and experimentation on the children. Dr. McClellan’s work and his numerous patents spoke for themselves. There was one last point she needed to know that would clarify just why certain restrictions had been placed on her team while playing rabbit in the desert.

“Inspector, tell me, do our dear directors know of these children?” Even as she asked the question she saw the answer in his eyes. Anger sparked within her. The UHAB, the best of the best, the elite fighting unit that was the pride of ULTIMATE’s armed forces wasn’t going to be battling evil mutants trying to take over the world. No. They had a much more important mission. Running down a group of children who were just trying to run away from those who’d betrayed them.

The waiter came running as soon as his tuned ears heard the sound of breaking glass. The customers apologized for the accident even as he wondered just how the wine glass stem had snapped so cleanly.

Sapphira arrived back at her quarters. The Inspector had aided her return to avoid her watchers. She was surprised to find Number Two, Bernardo, her second in command waiting for her.

He stood silent, judging her mood, then spoke, “I take it the news isn’t good?”

Opening her laptop, she accessed a program she had hoped never to need. “If what I’ve been told is true then this time in truth, our lords and masters have gone too far.”

He, like her, was an involuntary conscript as was their teammate, Number 5, Joachim. Number 3, Robert, had been a criminal guilty of armed robbery. That was a joke because the law ruled that in every crime involving a mutant, he was considered armed because of their powers regardless if their powers were dangerous or not. Streetwise, he had used his vibratory powers to walk through walls and burgle what he wanted. Being smarter than your average criminal, he kept his thefts comparatively modest, wanting to keep under the ULTIMATE radar. Needless to say that failed.

Mariko, Number 4, too was a convict. She had a strange and unusual metabolism that required her to ingest a considerable amount of gold to stay healthy. Starving from the deficiency, she had no choice but to steal what she needed to live. Able to control her own mass and size, she simply shrunk down to doll-like proportions and walked in and out unnoticed. However, when even a small amount of gold goes missing it is noticed, and so she too was apprehended.

The two of them volunteered to serve ULTIMATE and have cortex bombs implanted rather than spend the rest of their short lives at Darkside Penitentiary. Robert had been a realist, figuring it was better odds than being on the moon, while Mariko faced with starvation chose to live.

While the two of them had the obvious threat of their heads exploding, Sapphira and Bernardo had to be concerned about the welfare of their families. While at one time she had been reasonably certain that deadly force would not be used against them, Sapphira wasn't so sure now. Particularly given their willingness to apparently let them charge into the guns while they sit back and waited to sweep up what was left.

Joachim was the only one of the three conscripts with no close family. An orphan, the German government had been only too happy to get rid of the young mutant. The team’s strongman, the big German had a slate gray complexion, and long dreadlock-like braids that looked like hair but were really heat radiators. His gray skin was as tough as armor and the thinking was that he was some kind of living nuclear reactor. Joachim’s only real weakness was his weight. Luckily he was still light enough to be carried by the team’s V-22, but more than once the armored man had fallen through a weakly constructed floor. His tracking implant had been more like welded on than surgically implanted, but he did have one.

Neither she nor her doom predicting inspector had any proof that this was indeed what was planned, but military units practiced the kind of missions they were likely to be called upon to perform. She put what they had been training for out of her mind because she didn't need to rekindle her anger. There would be time for that later.

Sapphira did have a fallback plan, but it had its risks. She had a responsibility to her people and their families. It was not for the faint at heart for it meant the removal of those explosive devices from Robert and Mariko’s heads, which was undoubtedly booby-trapped That was just the beginning because their families had to be protected as well.

Bernardo was their ace in the hole because his unique talents let him pick up skills like others would olives from the orchard. Their masters had been pleased by the incredible assortment of martial arts and combat expertise he had acquired, not paying any attention to the medical knowledge he had managed to learn. With her remotes and detailed plans for doing just this, she was sure they had a decent chance to pull it off.

Their chances for successfully getting away with going rogue were not something she wanted to calculate the odds to.

Her second looked over her shoulder at the laptop screen and nodded. “You know this day has been coming. I, we, all trust your judgment. It’s your call, but whatever it is we’re behind you.”

Taking a deep breath she looked at the innocent looking screensaver of an old WWII movie poster, Kelly’s Heroes. Using her cursor she weaved a complex pattern opening up another screen. Burning Bridges. It asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. Saying a silent prayer, she hit YES.

Number Two turned to get Robert and Mariko prepped. His normally expressionless face almost broke into a smile. His boss had a thing for old movies. Him, his taste in movies were a little different. Remembering a line from one of his favorites, a real smile made its appearance. Seeing how he never wanted any part of this supra-human business to start with, content to follow in his father’s footsteps as a fisherman, it fit. “How do I get out of this Chicken-shit outfit?”

Of course that line had come from that sci-fi movie about an elite force on a far away planet that had gotten its butt kicked. However, he consoled himself, they’d been just as bad-ass as they had claimed. Some of them had made it out alive. That was good enough for him.

Chapter 41

Area 61 September 31, 2008

Area 61

Alan’s eyes snapped open as the door to his cell door slid open. He could see the pair of unconscious zoomies on the floor behind Maggie as she stepped inside.

Maggie threw a package at him. “Strip,” she said, as she pulled one her devices from a shoulder bag.

She placed the end of the cold odd shaped thing over where his implants were hidden. “This is going to hurt like hell.”

His breath caught and his eyes almost popped from his head as the lancing pain stabbed into him. “Couldn’t you have lied?”

“No” was her curt answer. “You know me too well. Get ready for round two.”

True, he did know her, and for damn sure, she was still pissed at how Doc had foxed her. The second time around brought him to his knees, gasping and fighting nausea. “What is that thing?” he rasped out.

“Oh, it rips out those little toys your doctor left behind by disassembling the things so fast they can’t explode or do any other cute little tricks he might had thought of. It then slaps a patch of healing gel on the hole and seals it. See, all done. You get dressed while I drag in Mutt and Jeff.”

Slipping into Slow-Time, he opened the package she’d thrown him. It was an all black jumpsuit-like thing. Shaking it out, he saw it was definitely for Val and not Alan. He’d known this time was coming. Now that it was here, he found himself hesitating. His identity as the younger brother of Gus Glenn was an important part of his past. He took up the mantle of the cocky hell-for-leather racing entrepreneur, to pursue his quest for justice for the memory of his friends, and later for atonement. Penance for surviving when they hadn’t and to keep the ideals they’d supported and tried to live by.

His luck was singing to him as it had for hours of momentous events. Like a grand symphony, dark and light intertwined as the twin themes soared and danced. As he grinned, the music rose majestically as the crescendo grew towards bloom.

In a flash of light, Alan Glenn vanished and in his place stood Valentina Zarya Savitskaya. Ollie and Maggie had talked about quantum states and waveforms, and how her ability to access her friends’ powers had something to do with her being able to dip into Slow-Time. She took a deep breath, reveling in the freedom of being herself. Let them worry as to how she did it. What was important was that somehow she was able to put aside the man that she’d been and be the woman she’d always wanted to be. That was enough.

Dressing required her to use care, but she settled into the unfamiliar weight of the gear. Still, she not only beat Maggie to the door, but had both zoomies inside and tied up in an eye blink. Grinning, she slipped out of Slow-Time next to her lover.

Maggie leaned forward, giving her a kiss that was anything but chaste. Just as quickly, she broke it off, tossing her a helmet from that ever-full shoulder bag of hers. “Here, put it on, and I’ll connect the inputs and power jacks.”

Following her orders, Val eyes widened as the visor lit up like a jet fighter’s display. Startled, she saw the bulky shoulder pads suddenly take on a solid appearance along with areas on her arms, legs and back. Recognition came to her.

“Hey, this is like Doc Mac’s design,” she exclaimed.

Returning her grin she replied, “Yes and no. His design had so many embedded traps and trackers, I didn’t dare use it after what happened with your implants. Instead, I used it as inspiration and came up with this.”

“Those hard plates,” she pointed out, rapping on one with her knuckle, “are nice for use as directional surfaces and as armor, but awkward for maneuvering in tight places. This is a fabric-like material that becomes solid under the right circumstances. It can warp and change its shape, something the original design couldn’t do.

"The batteries are good for about six hours, but it has a system that uses your body’s motion to recharge them. Even without their power, that system can power the suit if you’re moving fast enough. Trust me. This is a lot better than his work without the limitations place on it to control the wearer. So what do you say we blow this Popsicle stand?” she said, heading back to the service tunnel’s open access.

Central Control Area 61

Air Force Sergeant John Maus was carefully writing down in the log the current fluxing power readings from the equipment in Elevator Shaft Six. Slowly the readings had been increasing the last couple of hours. They were still well under the thresholds for activating the emergency call list, much less the big red panic button under its protective clear plastic shield.

He did bring it up to his shift supervisor’s attention. They were well aware that they had Cerberus shackled down here, and no one wanted to be around in case it ever got loose. An avid reader of Sci-Fi and fantasy, he mused that perhaps the Fenris Wolf might be a better analogy. The mighty wolf slipping his chains was one of the omens for Fimbulwinter or it might be the other way around. It’d been a while since he’d caught up on his Norse Legends.

John did recall that Fimbulwinter lasted 3 years and sounded all too much like a nuclear winter to him. Considering what was locked up in there could very well cause such a disaster, he would rather err on the side of caution.

His supervisor thought the same, picking up the phone to call in the big brains. John went back to his console, watching the computerized graphs forecasting the coming doom.

Val opened the secret door from the clubhouse to the dorms. Without Big Mac to run interference with the security systems, they’d have to do this the hard way. Embracing Slow-Time, she flowed into the room that’d been her home for the last few weeks. Maggie had mapped out every camera’s location, and Val skipped from unit to unit, slapping a bypass onto each and every one, ensuring the boys in blue would see only what they wanted them to see.

She was relieved to see none of the kids had a midnight urge for a glass of water or something else that’d screw up the pre-taped show her partner had arranged to playback on an endless loop for their zoomie Peeping Toms. Ollie was waking them now and all those late night meetings in the clubhouse paid for themselves as the kids got moving faster than they otherwise might.

Val zoomed back to the clubhouse to get the kids changes of clothing, passing Maggie lugging her implant zapper. Gathering up the armload of clothes, she passed Maggie again and dropped them in front of each kid’s door.

Sometimes it was fun being a speedster, but other times not so much. Communicating was all but impossible while deep in Slow-Time. She surfaced, watching everything speed back up as each of her students sleepily dragged their packages inside their rooms.

Josh came out first, half-dressed, and earned the privilege of being Maggie’s first victim. Val, seeing things at this end were going well, went back into the stream. She flowed out the concealed door into the service tunnel. Dancing through the thickening wall of air retarding her way, she checked to make sure the passage to the Buggy’s hanger was clear.

Letting Slow-Time swirl away from her once she entered the hanger, she saw Ollie through the pilot’s bubble canopy. She could see he was preoccupied speaking to the kids, and helping Maggie get them ready to make tracks out of here.

Val double checked that all of Maggie’s security bypasses were still in place at the blast doors, as well as ones that would open the silo, so they could launch. She let the world speed back up again, so she could talk. Everything seemed to be going well, but like some grand orchestra, her luck was still building towards a dark sinister upsurge.

She held up her thumb in the OK sign. It wouldn’t help the others to know what her luck was singing. If anything, it might hurt. They already knew they had to move fast to get out of here. That would be good enough or it wouldn’t. If things did start to go to hell in a hand basket, it’d be up to her to sort things out.

“Val,” Ollie called. “Maggie needs you back in the dorms.”

She smiled, like that for example. “I’m on the way Ollie. You just stay ready to put the pedal to the metal.”

The little Gray just grinned at her as he slipped on his oversized WWII leather aviation helmet and goggles. “When we burn out of here they’ll never know what hit them!”

Once more in Slow-Time, Val hurried back down the maintenance way. Arriving in the dorm’s closet, she dropped, surfacing back into normal speed. Walking in, she got there just in time to see Maggie treat Malik. Val winced as she brought out that agonizer-like thing of hers for removing implants. Surprised when boy didn’t yell in pain, she asked, “What’s up with theirs not hurting like mine did?”

Not looking up as she repositioned it to get the next one, Maggie replied, “Oh I used a topical anesthetic.”

A bit put out Val asked her, “How come you didn’t use one on me? That thing hurts!”

“I didn’t have time. It takes a few minutes for it to numb the area, besides you‘re a big girl. You can take it,” she said, not looking up. “Here I can apply the anesthetic on each one, and by the time I’m finished with the last, it has taken effect on the first one,” she said.

“What I need help with is Lizzie. I can’t get past her force-screen. You said something about being able to help with that,” Maggie explained.

Val nodded yes. She knew Ollie had explained to the kids that she and Maggie were here to help since they didn’t recognize who the women in the black outfits and armor were.

Val had to smile, as she snapped open her visor. Gesturing for Lizzie to come to her, she could see her wondering who she was. The others standing around were obviously wondering the same thing, with one exception.

“Val!” Billie squealed, running out to hug her to everyone else’s surprise.

It seemed that she wasn’t the only one who’d made the decision to leave their male persona behind.

The teen awkwardly introduced her, explaining, “This is Val. She’s, hmmm…, a friend of Mr. Glenn. She’s my friend too.”

Ollie’s mental voice echoed hers. “Yes, once more, they are here to help us escape. Please hurry as we don’t have much time.”

Unable to resist the temptation, Val said in her best Russian accent, “If you want to live, come with me.”

Most the kids gaped at her while Billie giggled. Then the guys chuckled, recollecting the quote.

“Seriously we have to get a move on here. Those of you who‘ve already had your surgery, head to the clubhouse and follow the yellow tape down the service tunnel to the hanger,” she urged them. Putting her hands on her hips, she asked, “Or do you really want to stay here?”

That did the trick as the older kids herded to the closet where the secret door was hidden. Lizzie lagged behind and tugged on her hand.

“What’s wrong Lizzie,” she asked, as the others trooped into the service tunnel.

Looking up at her, the little girl questioned, “Where is Mr. Glenn? Is he okay?”

“He’s better than fine, and closer than you think,” Val assured the six year old, knowing they had to gain Lizzie’s trust. They just didn’t have the time to use the same method the Docs did for getting past the half-pint’s powerhouse’s force-screen.

She looked at the adult suspiciously, staring at her face. A bright smile replaced her studied concentration as her eyes twinkled looking into the older woman‘s. “Oh! You’re like Billie!” Happily, she flew into Val’s arms, hugging her.

Trading a smile with Maggie, she was thankful the rest of the pack had already gone ahead. “Hey watch that. You don’t want to break anything do you?” At least now, she could take Lizzie’s enthusiasms a little easier. Not that it let her deal with the little red headed dynamo on an even level. Even as strong as she was when not holding anything back, Lizzie, after Doc had gotten done zapping her, was stronger.

“It is you! You’re a lot prettier this way. I like it,” Lizzie said, sitting on Val’s lap.

Val smiled, sighing. “I’m glad you approve. It is an improvement and I’m rather fond of it too. But you need to promise me, you’ll keep it a secret for now, okay? It’ll just confuse everyone, and we don’t need that right now. Alright?” she asked.

Lizzie solemnly nodded yes.

Smiling, Val tapped her on the nose causing the little minx to giggle. “Alright, you saw how Maggie took those bad things out of Billie and everyone else? Now we need to get yours out too. I know you don’t like it when the Doctors make you sleepy to get blood so I’m going to try something different, okay?”

Lizzie’s green eyes looked into Val’s as she nodded

Hoping this would work, Val cleared her mind and reached out. This was something that, although she’d tried, couldn’t be explained to Maggie or Ollie. It was almost like diving into Slow-Time, but while that was kind of like swimming underwater, this was more like floating on your back. It was a complete relaxation and letting go of everything, just allowing the flow to carry you.

Val wished she’d more time to study these new abilities of hers before blindly jumping into the deep end. Alas, time was the one thing they didn’t have. Too bad she didn’t have something like Max’s clones' ability to instinctively use her talent. That caused her to pause. Maybe she did, if her guess that these newer talents had come from them was correct.

Having studied supra-power theory in school back in Kazakhstan, it gave her hope this would work. Feeling her abilities settle about her, she could feel the force-screen, so like Lizzie’s, surrounding her. It wasn’t anywhere as powerful but she still had to be careful with the extra strength it gave her.

Concentrating, she tried to feel where her force screen, and that of the little girl in her lap, touched. Her years of martial arts training came to her aid as she breathed in time with Lizzie, seeking to synch with her. As gentle as a breeze she felt their screens merge and become one. “Now comes the hard part,” she thought. “Lizzie I’m going to try and turn off your screen for a moment.”

At the little girl’s nod, Val willed the screen away.

Lizzie looked a little nervous as her protective power faded, but her trust kept her from fighting Val.

Quickly Maggie darted in and sprayed the area where she needed to treat. All they could do now was wait for the anesthetic to take effect.

Between Universes

The timeless fissure became a firestorm that no natural or man-made forces could contain. Slowly the machines that had worked so valiantly to maintain the eye of the needle into space/time lost their battle. Just as long ago, a king knowing his battle was lost sent a messenger to ‘Go tell the Spartans’, they sent their own signal that this battle was lost.

A klaxon sounded the alarm as the lights and gauges told of the prisoner’s bid for freedom. A spilled cup of coffee puddled on the floor, forgotten as its owners leaped for their controls. For thirty-four years, they tried to smother the fires, but now it was free. Now there would be hell to pay.

To be continued.

Chapter 42

September 31, 2008

Staff Sergeant John Maus’s blood turned to ice as the klaxons wailed. The readings on his panel spiked so fast that mere human reactions were far too slow. Without thinking he whipped out his key, jamming it into the failsafe switch. A quick glance at his view screen showed him their backup station had also gotten the containment failure message. This was no drill or false alert.

“From three!” The so calm voice of the Major commanded.

“Three”

How the hell could he be so calm knowing that thing in the shaft was going to explode?

“Two”

Trying to swallow in a mouth gone suddenly dry, he prepared himself.

“One! Enable!” The Major ordered.

John confirmed, “Enabled!” as he and the Major turned their keys, praying it wasn’t already too late.

“Firing!” The Major directed.

Together their hands slammed down on their red buttons.

High above Area 61, a geostationary satellite relayed the image it captured to its masters. The ULTIMATE watch officer professionally notified the people and units on his alert roster. The analysts, sitting at the control panels behind him, busily replayed the footage of the jet of fire blasting up out of the small building housing shaft 6 at Area 61, searching for any clues to what caused the explosion.

The explosive jettisoning charges had been set by the best. Additionally, the carriage and the rest of the fittings were specifically designed for this contingency. The instant the electrical supply had been cut, high capacity capacitors took up the task of supplying the Looking Glass Projector, buying a few more precious moments. Exactly as planned, the pillar of expanding gases shot the carriage and its payload into the desert night sky like it had been shot out by a cannon.

As it reached the highest point of its trajectory and began to fall, an onboard GPS system kept track of its position. Once it hit its predetermined altitude, another charge deployed a steerable chute originally designed to give ejecting pilots the ability to maneuver in high threat environments. Another off-the-shelf-component, made to guide gliding smart bombs, directed the descending blast scorched assembly to the designated touchdown point.

A journey it was fated never to complete. The wormhole grew more unstable by the microsecond and began emitting streams of particles across the entire spectrum. Despite being shielded, the electronics couldn’t withstand the assault as they shorted and burned. Without their guidance, the lack of direction would’ve carried it miles off course given time. Time it did not have.

Malik jumped as the sirens howled! He and the rest of the guys gave each other a startled look before they started running full out down the tunnel.

Josh seeing himself and Amanda falling behind yelled out, “We can’t keep up. Remember that sled maneuver from the sims?”

Scared they were going to be caught, Malik gasped out, “Yes!“ His sister grabbed Josh and Amanda with her magnetic field while he pushed. Billie steered and acted like a rubber bumper, keeping them from hitting the wall.

Just like they’d practice in the sims, in only a few breaths, they’d reached over 30 mph racing down the narrow passage.

Billie yelled over the still blaring alarms, “Stop! This is it!”

They both slammed on the brakes as Amanda sent a blast of wind into their faces to help bring them to a stop before the already open service door into the hanger bay.

Malik grabbed for a wall as the whole place shook with a boom!

Stumbling, he helped up Billie who was reeling in her arms that she’d extended helping them to stop. Together they ran into the hanger. He’d half expected to see guards pouring in, but there was only Ollie in the saucer’s bubble frantically gesturing for them to hurry.

They’d almost made it up the ramp and on inside when a loud whooshing of wind blew out of the open service doorway. Malik blinked as the two women dressed in black suddenly appeared there with Lizzie.

Between eye blinks they were abruptly beside him!

The one Billie called Val grasped his shoulder. “Go get strapped in! Ollie, we’re here. Let’s burn some air!”

The ramp started rising with them on it, while the silver and red saucer began moving to its launch cradle.

Malik threw himself inside, as the launch alarm added their screams to the earsplitting clamor. Turning, he did the classic double-take on seeing that strange woman, Val, was already seated and buckled in, studying the instruments at the panel where Mr. Glenn usually sat.

Twisting to look behind him, he saw that other adult, Maggie, and Lizzie struggling to get seated as the ramp was shutting. The deck started tilting under his feet reminded the teen that it’d be a really good idea to strap in.

Ollie sent to them, “Something major has occurred that has nothing to do with our escape. Everyone hold on tight, we’re going to blast off, hard, in ten.”

Malik remembering the first time they’d ridden with Ollie, had to keep his mouth from dropping open. “This was going to be worse?”

Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven. He got the harness latched as the saucer’s deck continued to tilt.
Six
Five. Val yelled over all the sirens and everything else that was shrieking, “Crew is secured.”
Four.
Three. “We’re a GO
Two. for Launch.”
One
“Blast OFF,” Ollie said calmly.

A giant slapped Malik down against his chair as the Rocketeer’s team vehicle earned its name, The Rocket.

A lifetime of awaking at a moments notice, ready to handle whatever crisis at hand, had General Robert Laramie striding into his command center calm and collected. With this operation nearing its critical phase, he’d been living out of his office. Scant seconds had him dressed, and ready for action, while his aides were still half-dressed, trying to update him on the situation.

His command center was in disarray as techs rushed to get to their stations in a half-asleep panic. Dr. McClellan and the rest of the eggheads were bent over their equipment trying to find out what just had happened. All in all, he was satisfied so far. The proof they’ve all done their jobs would be whether or not Area 61 was still here come sunrise, or nothing more than a radioactive crater.

The Watch Officer ran to him, quickly giving him the latest information. “Sir, at 0930 hours Zulu, Looking Glass’s power requirements spiked and blew all the fail-safes. We ejected the core. After clearing the shaft, telemetry indicated that the emergency power supply and all other systems were functioning as designed.”

“Everything was operating as expected until just after the para-wing was deployed. We lost the telemetry downlink as well as all our unshielded communications and sensors. Backups shows the Projector is now drifting unguided to the north. If it continues on its current trajectory, it will over shoot the target zone. “

The General whipped out a cigar. “What is the status of Meridian? We’ll need them to lead the target back to the zone. Bring the Hydra teams to readiness and have them stand by.“

Turning to the cluster of white coated scientists he bellowed, “Doctor McClellan what happened to my communications and telemetry?”

The senior scientist spoke, “What caused the early failure is right here. A big charge of energized particles erupted from the Projector burning out its critical systems. Another occurred right after the para-wing started for the beacon. That one was much more intense and larger, particularly in the EM spectrum. The EMP was what took out our communications and sensors.”

Grunting, the General turned as an aide reported. “Meridian’s dormitory is empty. Security found the surveillance cameras have been compromised.”

His eyes bulged as his heart rate soared. He didn’t even have to guess who was responsible. “Glennnn!”

Temperatures soared onboard the drifting Looking Glass carriage. The heavily shielded capacitors tried valiantly to keep up with the rapidly climbing power demands. They failed.

The Looking Glass Projector was both a failure and success. It was simply too expensive to build one for each prisoner as well as the power requirements each one demanded. However, it had kept the monster that’d once been a hero safely imprisoned for thirty-four years.

The old machine flashed into superheated metallic vapor as the wormhole finally collapsed. A tsunami of energy materialized back into existence. Racing away at the speed of light, the excited particles and ions from its emergence bombarded the upper atmosphere. Just like in the northern climes, an Aurora Borealis lit up the desert sky in a brilliant flare. For miles around, electrical power and cars failed as the accompanying powerful EMP fried them.

An enormous white hot sphere, spitting blinding arcs, slowly drifted to the ground. Where it touched the desert sands, the silicates hissed and fused into glass.

Kiloton had returned.

Arghun was on his way back to his comrades when he saw the first explosion. Relying on instincts that’d served him well for far longer than anyone would believe, he took off sprinting back to camp. He could outrun most galloping horses, and could keep it up for far longer.

He disregarded the other flashes of light and thunder behind him. It was imperative he get to the others as fast as possible. They needed him to lead them in. Everything else was unimportant. Whatever sensors he set off wasn’t an issue any more. He’d a feeling that the watchers had far bigger problems.

Pyotr and the others met him near the border of the lands that Valentina’s captors forbade to others. They were watching the light show while waiting for him.

Arghun stopped beside Bob, who was carrying his gear. Gratefully he took his canteen, taking a long drink. Looking at the dancing lights high above he shivered. His people had their own legends about such things and it was anything but good.

“Your sister certainly has a way of signaling for help,” he told Pyotr.

Pyotr clapped him on the shoulder and said softly, “I owe you more than I can say. I owe you all. We will go get my sister, and then we’re leaving as fast as we can. Our rendezvous is set and will wait only till sunrise. Now, I’ll carry us as far as Arghun deems safe.

Arghun’s team leader lifted them all with his telekinesis, and they flew rapidly in the direction of the trouble. The small dark man dressed for battle swearing that girl owed him at least a kiss. Shrugging, he knew that no one could go into battle with better companions. He’d lived more lifetimes than he could count and wasn’t sure of his own age. If it was his time to die, then he would make sure that the last battle of Arghun Bahadur, warrior of the great Kahn, would become a legend.

Chapter 43

Above Area 61

Val hung on as Ollie fought The Rocket as they shot into the heavens. Overhead a wild Aurora burned madly while lightning danced all over the Buggy. The rear view had them leaving a contrail of burning sparks that even a blind man couldn’t miss.

She slipped lightly into Slow-Time, using their sensors to find the cause. The burning wreckage of what use to be the entrance to elevator six was easy to find. Looking skyward was harder with all the interference.

Abruptly, they locked in on the source of the disturbance.

From over her shoulder she heard Malik exclaim, surprised, “It’s Kiloton! It’s here!”

Val could feel her face grow pale. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but there he was, The Monster. The killer, who somewhere deep inside, held her last living family, her brother, Gus.

Sending to Ollie she asked, “Can you drop me off behind that ridge behind him? If I can lure him back to that trap, we’ll see if Doc’s plan will work. You and Maggie can drop off the kids someplace safe and come back for me.”

The kids were looking around, wondering what was going on. The Buggy was still bucking as if it was alive as Ollie dodged through the storm of ions. Billie was the first to get it.

“Oh my Gawd! That’s Captain Blazzar. That’s what this was all about. That’s why they brought us here,” she said.

Ollie passed on to Val, “Maggie says she’ll do it but as soon as we get them to The Car, we’re coming back for you. She’s downloading the coordinates to your helmet GPS as we speak. She also says ‘Don’t you dare get yourself killed.’ I feel the same way my friend.”

“Prepare yourself. I’m going in hot with a bootlegger reverse stop and then a Bat-turn, flat-hatting along the ridge till we’re clear of line of sight, flying nap of earth. Piece of cake!” Ollie said in pilot’s speak.

Val hit her harness release. “Just like old times.” This should be a lot a fun, not, as she slipped to the exit in the crowded bouncing saucer. She saw in the kids’ eyes that they had figured out she was going after Kiloton.

Josh yelled, “We’ve fought it in the sim. We can do this!”, as the rest of them echoed him.

She smiled as her hands found the old hand holds. Strange that after over thirty years she could find them without looking. Looking up at the anxious faces she said softly, “No can do. This something for others to handle.”

Maggie’s face was grave, but across Val’s HUD she wrote out, “I love you even if you are an idiot.”

Ollie warned them. “HOLD ON!”

She felt the Buggy viffed itself about in a 180, slamming them all back into their seats, as Ollie brutally applied full thrust. She took a deep breath. Here it comes. Locking eyes with Maggie and grinning jauntily she mouthed, “I know.”

Now flying backwards the Buggy’s rear doors flicked open, and Val let the momentum fling her into the night.

Maggie felt as if her heart had been torn from her chest, watching her love suddenly disappear into the blackness. It took a real force of will to keep her attention on helping Ollie by keeping a close eye on their sensors.

He’d immediately spun The Rocket back around and was racing at breakneck speed, scant feet above the rocks. Behind her, she was vaguely aware that Val’s tattered secret was out of the bag. One of the guys had put the girl speedster and Alan Glenn the ex-speedster together and gotten the jackpot. Billie and Lizzie had come clean with them, and now they all knew their teacher was much more than he’d claimed.

She tuned it out, too worried about Val to be concerned about the future. That was why the mutiny got as far as it did.

Billie, using her stretching power, tapped her on her shoulder, “You have to go back. We can’t leave Val out there by herself. Besides, no matter where you put us, we’re going to be in some kind of danger unless you put us so far away you won’t be able to get back in time to do any good.”

“We’ll be just as safe in The Rocket as we’ll be anywhere else. Please go back? Ollie, Maggie?” the teen pleaded.

From the way they’d came an ominous glow of lights and thunder sounded. She so wanted to do just what their would be mutineers suggested, but they did need to get these kids to safety. Looking at little Lizzie, a would be powerhouse or not, she was still only six years old.

Helplessly she thought to Ollie, “Help?”

The second he touched her she knew he felt the same way. “Maggie, if we do, Val is going to be so mad at us.”

Another thunderous volley of raw power echoed behind them.

Making her decision she took a deep breath. For Val to be mad at them she had to first be still alive. She could live with that. “If we go back, you will stay onboard, you got me?”

They all nodded.

“Ollie turn this thing around. We’re going back,” she ordered.

ULTIMATE SRT-One’s field camp.
Outside Las Vegas

Sapphira locked down her armor as the ramp on SRT One's V-22 rose. The rest of her team were still strapping themselves in as their pilot did a full emergency-power dust off. Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps, was completely dark. The EMP that’d struck just minutes ago had done more than that, with at least one airliner down so far and another coming in on a wing and a prayer.

The UHAB was still coming active, but since SRT One was ready to roll they’d been given the honor of investigating the cause. It was easy to find where, with that aurora burning directly overhead, Area 61. Their mission was to recce and find the cause. They were authorized to take whatever action was necessary to prevent another Electro-Magnetic-Pulse.

Sapphira traded a long look with Bernardo. This was happening precisely as the Inspector had warned. Never before had they been given leave to act with such extensive discretion.

He simply nodded as he made his own last checks of his equipment.

Her own shoulder twinged where he’d removed her tracking implants. She and the others now had small transmitters on their belts sending out the signal that their implants once had. Sapphira could only imagine what Robert and Mariko were feeling. Having the implanted trackers removed was nothing compared to the near brain surgery to remove their cortex-bombs.

Bernardo had proved to be a skilled surgeon and their state of the art equipment certainly helped. Despite all that skill, she and he wished they’d all had some more time to recover. They’d just only got the last of her gone-to-hell preparations finished when that EMP had hit. That was why they’d been able to respond so quickly.

Their handler/overseer, Major Thomas, was a completely unlikable bureaucratic ass, who was interested only in his own career. He’d come stumbling in half-drunk from the casinos from which they were barred. He demanded they hurry, only to find to his surprise they were waiting for him. He, of course, wasn’t going to ride with them but was going to be on their other V-22, well out of harm's way.

The poor excuse for an officer was also the one that had the remote for their tracking implants and cortex-bombs. Sapphira had thought it only fitting where she had her little robotic helpers dispose of the nasty little things. Neither of the two cortex-bomb explosive charges were very large, being about the size of a firecracker. However that was more than big enough to outright kill just about anyone, mutant or not, considering they were placed right next to the gray matter.

Now, if Major Thomas used that remote of his, he‘ll get one hell of a surprise, not to mention needing some reconstructive surgery. Besides, a good soldier always checks his own gear and never ever leaves anything to chance. He’d just be reaping the rewards he himself had sowed.

As their aircraft raced towards the storm of lights in front them, she closed her visor. If they had a chance of living through whatever was capable of producing such a strong charge, she needed to be on top of her game. The people depending on her deserved no less and she demanded nothing but the best from herself.

Tonopah, NV

Inspector Philippe Imbert stood outside his Tonopah hotel, watching the aurora and the sheets of lighting playing across the sky. He could but marvel at the dazzling display. Andrea had rattled off some figures of how much power it’d taken to cause what had struck this part of Nevada. It rivaled a solar flare or a very big nuclear bomb. No significant radiation had been reported yet, but the amount of static electricity was truly astounding.

It had begun.

His driver Rodger was working on their Hummer, and promised it wouldn’t take long to jury-rig it. Andrea was trying to communicate with headquarters, but what the EMP didn’t burn out, this storm of lights jammed. He was on his own, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

All his people were armored up, and had loaded everything that could prove of use into their two Hummers. He was going to drive straight for Area 61’s gates. If they wouldn’t let him through, Philippe would wait. All this was just the opening round in a battle of Titans. When the dust settled, someone would be needing their help because he expected very few to still be standing.

Rodger yelled out, “Got it!” as the big vehicle’s engine started. A scant minute later they jumped off their other Hummer, and they were ready to roll.

Not wasting a moment, the inspector waved his people to mount up. They drove carefully to avoid all the people standing outside of the two powerless casinos, looking heavenward. The dancing lights were truly beautiful, but Philippe knew that most truly beautiful things were also deadly.

Chapter 44

Mohave desert outside of Area 61

Val twisted desperately in the air as the rocky soil beneath her feet vaporized, spattering molten glass shrapnel all around her. She was as deep in Slow-Time as she’d ever been, and as fast as she might seem to someone watching, it wasn’t anywhere near fast enough to avoid the speed of light death flying at her.

It was only by avoiding letting his vaguely arm-like appendages point anywhere near her that’d kept her alive so far. This thing that was Gus stood at about 10 feet tall, a blinding bright blob with lumps and bumps in about the right places for a head, arms and legs. Where it stepped, the very ground bubbled and smoked, as it moved in a floating bounce like that of a moon walker rather than actually walking.

If not for the force-screen she’d inherited from that poor deceased clone of Max’s, she already would be shredded just from the shrapnel from the near misses. Still in mid-air, she calculated her next move, using her flight to help her cheat. She was much, much faster on the ground, but the bit of flying she did have now, helped. It would’ve been nice if she didn’t have to learn how to use it the hard way. One mistake and Maggie would be a widow.

The moment her toes reach the ground she zagged hard to the right. Val hadn’t taken more than a few steps when her luck sang doom, despair and more doom. Almost skidding out of control she zigged back to the left as another exploding crater appeared where she would’ve been. Oh tricky! The critter had figured out he was telegraphing his attack, and used the other arm to guide his aim that time. Well, Gus had never been slow on the uptake.

A check of her helmet’s HUD showed their progress to the range. Dishearteningly, they still had quite a ways to go. However she was making progress. The bad news was she had to provide something for him to shoot at for him to follow. If she got too far ahead he lost interest. Val had wondered if she just left him alone, Gus might transform back. He’d to have used one hell of a lot of energy already to light up the entire sky like he’d done. He had to be low on energy, power, or whatever he used to keep going.

The thing was, she couldn’t risk him getting anywhere near a population center. Left to himself he might just fly off, and if he flew as fast as those death rays he was firing at her, she would never be able to keep up. She was fast, but the speed of light, not so much. So, for better or for worse, this was the plan she was stuck with.

Whoa! She checked her six as the critter cut loose with a constant blazing torrent of destruction from both arms, one in front of her and one behind. Bringing his hands together he meant to catch her in the middle!

Charging for the nearer beam, she leaped over it, using her flight again to cut it as close as she dared. Hadn’t it ever heard, “Never cross the beams?”

The critter from Gus’s Id was getting way too cagey for her own good. Time to introduce some good old fashioned motivation. Scooping up a fist sized rock, she twisted backwards and threw it at gruesome. Using her old friend Doug’s talent for marksmanship, and the remarkable strength she'd gained, the projectile flew as if fired from a cannon, dead on target.

Only to have the rock explode in a burst of fire into smoking shards as it reached Kiloton’s fiery corona. With a roar that was a bizarre combination of white noise and the weird music of a theremin, he threw an arcing splash of incandescent brilliance back at her.

Val in a corkscrewing twist used every bit of acrobatic skill she had to dodge the plasma wave. Nope! This critter didn’t like that at all. It might attack anything that moves near it, but it really got pissed if you dared attack it, whether or not you managed to hurt it or not.

Her luck warned her to stop just in time for her to let herself drop flat as he lazered another beam above her. She said yet another prayer for that poor clone of Max’s whose power she had now. Without it she could have been dead yet again.

Pride goeth before the fall she quote to herself. It’d been a long, long time since she’d really been pushed this hard. With most of the powers from her friends from The Rocketeers, she usually, deliberately, did not use her full capability. Like the egotistical fighter who fought with only one arm to make it fair, so did she. However, Val did it to preserve her secret, and she admitted to herself, out of guilt.

The more she used them the harder it was to stuff them back into their ‘genie bottle.’ She used what she had to and then pushed it back away from her. For years she’d depended upon training her base form and had refused to use even the talents that was originally hers as Alan Glenn. Maybe Ollie and Maggie were right that she’d been trying to punish herself for surviving when those so dear to her hadn’t.

Her luck, moaning oncoming calamity, again brought her back to her present predicament. That was one of the problems with diving so deeply into Slow-Time, the whole world seemed frozen. It gave her the time to plan every single action, but it also let one wool-gather when she should really be keeping her mind on important business. Like staying alive for instance.

Aborting her flip to her feet, Val flew into the air as a trench was carved where she’d once stood. Cartwheeling to the side she put on a burst of speed to give her some more maneuvering room. Yep, she’d made him mad alright, as he kept blasting away at her, seemingly determined to level the Nevada hills. Now all she had to do was stay alive.

Staff Sergeant Green cursed silently to himself. They’d been in their sniper hide catching sleep in catnaps, when it’d all started to go down. So much for intelligence saying they would have some warning, he scoffed. They’d been told an attack by some kind of mutant terrorists were likely, but this thing seemed to have broken out rather than having been trying to break in.

Radio communication was out, and even the landline that they’d laid was damn spotty. He was just damn glad that fancy frakking scope, the SRVS (Super Resolution Vision System), hadn’t packed it in too. He’d read about EMP’s, and what they could do to electronics, but he’d never heard or read anything about how bad the static electricity could be. He and his spotter had constant small cracks of being bitten by the sparks.

He felt really uncomfortable with the 35 lb lightning rod his XM-111 had become. Strikes were hitting all over the place and unfortunately their hide was on a rise so they would have a good shot at the targeted range.

The problem was he’d spotted what had to be their objective moving towards the ambush point. The thing was a nightmare of twisting blinding lashing energy, burning and arcing crap all over the place. Duty kept him in place even as he knew they risked getting electrocuted from the violent dry electrical storm raging about them.

What he didn’t know was what to do about that ballsy dame playing tag with that damn thing down there. She was definitely trying to lure it to the range, and despite moving so fast she was a blur most of the time, she must have 9 lives. From what his experienced eye could pick out she’d already used up half of them and was working hard on using up the rest. And she still had a good half klick to go.

His spotter, Lance Corporal Hennessy, was on the field phone trying to find out what the rules of engagement was in this Foxtrot Charlie, Fluster Cluck. That was if anyone knew what in the hell was going on. Both of them had been more than a little freaked that they had so much static crap running over them, the marine hadn’t even needed to crank the phone. Assuming he lived through this, he was going to have a little talk with the gunny who’d volunteered him for this, ’sweet little’ assignment.

General Laramie had nearly bitten his cigar in two in frustration. The desert landscape about Area 61 had turned into something out of a filmmaker’s fantasy. Bolts of lightning were raining down continuously from a clear night sky while that intense aurora above cast bizarre shadows on the desert below.

This operation was already coming apart at the seams. Alan Glenn had broken out and no doubt had something to do with Meridian being missing as well. Security had reported that the old Rocketeers hanger doors were jammed shut. They had tried to enter when a guard had heard activity within, although the monitors showed nothing. Right now, he could not even confirm if Glenn and Project Meridian had flown the coop.

He was glad he’d let Dr. McClellan talk him into initiating Project Hydra. That had provided a needed backup. Already the Hydra teams were riding the elevators up. That however didn’t answer his latest question. Who in the hell was that woman out there?

She was leading Kiloton to the target area and he had to respect her reckless courage. However, what he didn’t need was more complications and problems. At the very least, she was trespassing on his Top Secret base, regardless that her actions were at the moment useful. At worst, she was a dangerous interloper playing her own game.

“General,” Dr McClellan spoke. “My assistants are still trying to narrow down the database as to who she might be, but I think I might know who that is out there.”

Robert Laramie barked out, “Don’t hold your tongue Doctor! Who is she and what is she doing here?”

Pushing up his glasses the old scientist replied, “I recognize some of the design features on her surpra-suit. They’re the same as on the one I designed for Alan Glenn thirty-four years ago. More to the point, the one I showed to him for the first time not more than a few weeks ago. Additionally, look at the supra-speed she’s using. I have only a vague idea of how it might be possible, but that has got to be Capt. Vroom.”

It was to his credit, that unlike everyone else who'd heard the Doctor’s theory, the General’s mouth didn’t drop open in disbelief. His flint gray eyes stared at the huge monitor’s image. He subscribed to the old adage, “When in command, command.” Living up to that ideal he ordered, “Get Saul Simpson top side. Tell him if he can stop that woman he’ll have a complete pardon.”

Turning to the eggheads he asked, “Dr. McClellan, if that is the same suit, do you have the abort and immobilization codes for it?”

The old scientist gave a conditional answer, “If it is an exact or near duplicate, yes the abort and/or the other codes might work. There was any number of backups and fail-safes included as a part of the design.”

Grunting the General said, “Then we have nothing to lose by trying. The moment Kiloton is down. You send those codes.” Turning to his aide, he added, “That goes for Simpson too. He does nothing, you understand, until that monster is out?”

Captain Syn nodded and passed along the orders.

Standing tall while everyone nearby leaped to carry out his orders, he muttered under his breath, “I always knew something wasn’t right about that boy.”

If anyone heard they diplomatically gave no sign.

Chapter 45

Area 61 Test Ranges

Elisa-1 yawned despite herself. She knew she was suppose to be a good girl, and be obedient, but she was so sleepy. Their nurse woke them up and told everyone that they needed to get up, even though it was very early in the morning. She and her brothers and sisters got ready as fast as they could.

Now they were riding the elevator up for the first time. Like the rest, she had her visor on, watching as it told them what they were to do. Go here, find Kiloton there, and attack.

There was more but she’d learned how to find the important parts in the mass of instructions they were given. Besides, her job was simple — pick up her sister Carol-1 and fly to the attack site. Then protect her, while her sister trapped the target, Kiloton, in her magnetic field.

Simulations indicated a high probability that the target, once caught, would lash out at the one generating the field. Delia-1, who would be super cooling the area would also be at risk, but this plan was centered around Carol-1. If she fell, the mission always was lost.

Over the course of the previous week, their commanders discovered that they were more likely to be successful if her sister stayed operational. They devised the tactic of Elisa-1 using her force screen protected body to shield Carol-1. It seemed to be the most effective use of her talents given that not even her screen could withstand direct contact with the target.

The elevator doors opened and they all hurried up the short hallway and stairs to the outside. The chill dessert air was alive with the smell of ozone from sheets of lightning bolts, and thunder rumbled in a continuous roar. High above them, strange dancing lights lit up the base’s airfield and support buildings, almost like it was day. The surrounding night time desert was alive with shadows cast from the shifting lights.

Elisa-1 picked up her sister and followed the arrows appearing on her visor. Part of her felt she should be amazed by what she was seeing, but somehow she had the feeling that she’d seen even stranger scenes.

Putting her thoughts aside, she concentrated on performing her duty like she’d been trained. The mission always must come first.

Valentina Zarya Savitskaya dodged another inferno-like blast but the end was in sight. The sunken pool of Doc’s goop was well camouflaged, but knowing what to look for let her see past the illusion. The last few hundred yards had been tough. Now that she’d made him mad, the critter had been tossing a near steady stream of destruction at her.

Suddenly, a rocket of some sort raced at the blinding form of her brother. She was surprised, as for once something flew at the thing rather than from it. Instead of exploding in the corona like her rock had, it deployed some kind of net that arced and flashed with power before vaporizing.

The monster of Gus’s Id really didn’t like that, making that hissing harmonic roar of his again. Another fiery stream of plasma poured out at where the rocket had launched.

Val’s heart lurched in her chest. Maggie?

“How had they gotten back so soon?” she thought, as the area exploded into superheated steam and razor sharp fragments.

Across her HUD, a message slowly appeared, even though Maggie had burst transmitted it as fast as she could think it. With Val in Slow-Time it took forever for the letters to appear one by one. “Miss me?”

“Don’t worry the weapons are remote fired. I’ll alternate with you to divide its attention. Love Maggie,” she had typed out.

Not having any time to waste with using the touch pad on her gauntlets, Val simply hit the acknowledgment key.

Scooping up another rock, she deftly skipped it across the battleground, showering debris at her foe. Like before, Kiloton unleashed a hurricane of blazing fire at her. Deadly though it was, it was also easier to avoid when Kiloton was angry than when the critter was trying to be clever. That gave her time to study the pit-like area in more detail and what she saw made her heart ache.

There, making their way along opposing sides of the range, were the unmistakable forms of two groups of kids. They had to be Max’s clones.

Damn Laramie and Hathaway to hell! Val had no doubts that these clones were mind washed into the perfect little soldiers Laramie always wanted. Whether or not they had Max’s homicidal instincts or not, they weren't expendable robots!

Val sighed. She had no choice but to play this game out. Like it or not, Gus’s alter-ego was just too dangerous. They had to stop him. She just hoped that Laramie had worked them hard on those sims. Otherwise the old bastard was going to be responsible for even more deaths. Not that she expected that to bother him, but sure as hell it bothered her.

She watched as another of Maggie’s toys went off, causing another roar from the critter. As it obliterated another hill in a blinding flash, she lobbed not one but an armload of rocks at him. Val had carefully picked each location, using her nimbleness to strike. It was important that the critter try to follow her across the seemingly solid surface of the trap.

Light footed, she ran across the gel filled pit. The instant her foot hit terra firma, she threw herself skyward, letting her flight redirect her momentum upwards. A ball of incandescence erupted under her. Arcing backwards, she flipped herself behind the fireball, hiding from him.

Steeling herself, now came the hard part. Val simply stood as the fireball climbing into the desert sky revealed her to the monster, her brother.

Saul Simpson had to keep himself from laughing. As they rode up the elevator, his guards were pale and clearly frightened. They might think they hid it well, but he and fear were old friends. Although he didn’t have any better idea as to what was happening than they did, he took it in stride.

Death had passed him by so many times, he’d grown somewhat jaded about the whole matter. If he died, no one would grieve. Hell, they would probably have a party and dance on his grave.

What he did know was the Man had said if he put some broad down, he could go free. Nothing else was important. After thirty-five years, he was ready to go home. All they’d told him was that some monster was tearing up the place. After it’d been taken down, he was free to pound the chick. He’d been told to capture her, but how he did it was up to him.

Cracking his knuckles just to needle his guards, he smiled knowing how much it would bother them. As soon as the doors opened, even he was surprised. The night sky above them was lit up by dancing lights as lightning was falling all about. Thunder from the bolts were rolling in a continuous roar. Looking around, he saw that one of the small buildings housing the other elevators going to Area 61 was completely blown apart.

One of the guards waved, getting his attention. It was impossible to talk over the deafening ringing roar of thunder. Pointing to one of those funny looking trucks they called Humvees, the guard ran, praying under his breath.

Saul just looked about wonderingly. He’d seen so many incredible sights during his life but none like this. From the surface of the moon, he’d watched the Earth-rise and gazed into the depths of space. He ran to the truck and hauled himself inside. His keeper drove white knuckled as Saul saw the fires and explosions coming from in front of them.

Bouncing crazily after the short drive, they skidded to a stop in front of a low blockhouse, half-buried in the sand. Together they ran inside where an officer and pair of nervous sweating techs were staring at their screens. Curious, Saul looked over their shoulders. The thing was a big man-like blinding mass of crackling energy. Crap was arcing off of it, as the ground bubbled up underneath it into molten sludge.

As Maxi-Bad he’d fought some real bad-asses, but this one was in a league all to himself. He couldn’t help but whistle as it blasted a small hill to kingdom come. Saul had to admire whoever was out there with that thing, as he watched the glowing fireball rising into the sky, as if from a nuke. They had some real brass balls to be flacking around out there.

“There is your target,” his guard pointed out to him.

Looking in interest, Saul saw the slender armored figure standing there with one hip cocked, waiting for the fiery fog to rise. He guessed she was about medium height, and off hand she didn’t look like much. Her black partial hard-shell armor didn’t appear to be powered and her helmet was kinda streamlined like a motorcycler’s.

He blinked as she blurred to the side as the Thing burned a trench, just missing her. Saul’s eyes narrowed. He’d only known just one person to move that damn fast. As she did an impossible flip, avoiding another bolt of fire, he was almost sure he knew who she had to be.

The monitors had the outlines of some trap outlined upon it. Rather than get some distance so she’d room to dodge, she stayed, trying to get the Thing to trigger whatever boobytrap it was. That was the final piece of the puzzle. It had to be Vroom, Alan Glenn.

Saul wasn’t sure how it happened, but that chick had Vroom’s powers and sure as hell acted like him. Maybe the girl was Glenn’s daughter or something and he’d passed his powers to her. He’d heard of something like that before from his fellow inmates on the moon.

The big con sighed. He wasn’t going to enjoy it as much as he’d thought. Although Alan Glenn had been one of the team responsible for putting him in hell, the guy had also been one of the only ones to treat him with something like respect. Oh, Saul was still going do what he’d been ordered to do, but only because he had to, for Freedom.

Then his entire world changed forever. There, on either side of the trap thing, were two groups labeled Hydra 1 and Hydra 2. His eyes bulged out. It was those kids he’d helped trained! His mind wrestled with what he was seeing. That General shouldn’t have them out there, but then it hit him - there were two groups of them!

It was impossible! A week had passed since he’d called on his Mojo. Any clones would be long dead, disappearing into nothingness. But there they were, his children.

The big man almost dropped to his knees. They were alive! It had to be that Doctor. He’d somehow kept them alive. After all these years, here were children of his Mojo, alive. Children that he’d hadn’t murdered with the very act of giving them life.

In growing horror he watched as the rampaging monster enter the trap set for it. The trap where perhaps the only things he, the destroyer, had ever created, waited.

Chapter 46

Area 61 test range

Val somersaulted as the blast wave hit her at the speed of sound. Riding the wave, she twisted trying to see what had happened. Gus’s critter had bounded right into the middle of the pit and wham! It was pretty obvious whatever was in there had vaporized, explosively. A thick fog hid him from sight, but the bright lights shining inside let her know Gus’s monster from his Id was still in there kicking. The glare caused yet another layer of her visor’s filters to engage.

In seconds, the miasma had burned away, revealing that at least part of Doc’s plan had worked. Lightning arced like wild living things from the critter to the cables lining the pit. He was roaring that bizarre wail and thrashing about in pain.

Val held her breath, praying it would work, but slowly it rose into the air, pulling itself free. Then she saw the power that had been draining off the creature flash against the magnetic field of the Maxi-Malaks. They’d been holding it down while the Maxi-Josh’s had been blinding it. But it wasn’t enough. One by one the mad arcs sleeting downward stopped. The monster started hunting for its attackers.

Josh and the rest of his friends helplessly watched the battle as The Rocket kept its distance. He wasn‘t too sure how he felt about finding out their teacher was now a woman. Getting used to Bill being a girl now was hard enough, but the rest of the girls had made it very clear Billie was ‘hands off.’ What he did know was this: Val was down there fighting for her life.

Looking at the faces of those who’d just a few short weeks before had been strangers, he saw their unspoken agreement. “We have to help, but you know Ollie won’t let us. Lizzie can carry me, and Amanda. Malak, you get to carry your brother and Billie.

“I need to get closer to make it see an illusion where everyone is 6’ to the left of where they really are. Amanda, I want you to super cool the area around Kiloton. Like in the sims, that should make Malak’s magnetic screen work better. Lizzie you’ll be Amanda’s wing watching out for trouble. Malik will be mine, and Billie will be Malak’s. Good?” Josh asked his teammates.

They nodded.

“Lizzie,” Josh reminded. “If that thing come anywhere near Amanda, you grab her and fly like a bullet the other way. Got it?”

“Hun huh,“ she said, giving a thumb‘s up.

“NO! You can not go. You promised Maggie and I you would stay onboard The Rocket,” Ollie commanded.

Josh and the others looked up guiltily wondering how the Gray had read their thoughts.

Ollie pointed out to them, “I’m mute not deaf. It is far too dangerous. Kiloton is far more dangerous than he was years ago. You must stay.”

“Ollie they’re not strong enough! Let us go down. We can stop it!” Josh pleaded, as his teammates nodded him encouragement.

The Gray replied, “I can not. You and I promised Maggie we would keep you here, safe.”

“And where would we go?” The teenager tossed his head at Area 61. “You know they would look for us and where could we go anyways that would be safe from that thing? Look down there! They almost have it but it’s too strong. If we help we might make the difference.

Looking defiant, Josh added, “What about Alan Glenn? I'm still wrapping my head around he and Val being the same person, but we can’t just leave him, her, or them. And what about those other kids down there?”

“We have to help them!” he said, as his friends voiced their own feelings and agreement.

Ollie was silent for a long moment and then sighed. “I have no choice but to agree. Please be careful and stay as far away as you can. No simulation is the same as real life. This isn’t a game where you come back to life after making a mistake. You die, and so do your friends, if you make a mistake.”

With the assurance of youthful belief in his own immortality, the teen replied, “We know, and we will be careful.”

The Rocket winged over, reversing its course, diving back into the wildly arcing storm.

Val typed out a message to Maggie on her touch pad, “Try and distract it. Use attacks that’ll pass through the girls’ field.”

Hoping the rocks in hand had little ferrous content so they could pass through the Maxi-Malaks' magnetic screens, she fast-balled the first of a nearly machine gun-like stream of stones. Like before, they hissed, melted and exploded well short of the critter, but they did get its attention.

Soon more of Maggie’s energy disruption things were striking it too, and that caused it to slow its efforts even more as it turned to attack her.

Again it reacted by throwing lightning bolts hotter than the sun at them. This time the energy was caught in the two Maxi-Malak’s magnetic field and channeled down into Doc’s energy draining web. The bolts arced into the ground causing more drains to the monster.

Gus’s Mr. Hyde screamed its untuned radio screech of anger and furiously struggled to get free again.

Val stepped it up to high gear, sending a hail storm of rocks at the monster.

However this time, it wasn’t going let anything divert it from its attempt to free itself. Not even Maggie’s special little packages which caused it to roar each time one struck were slowing it. One by one the multiple arcing energy bolts draining into the trap failed, until just two remained.

“Val and Maggie, Josh is going cast an illusion of you two being 6’ to your right,” Ollie sent to them.

That baffled her for a long moment until she figured it out. “NO! Ollie don’t let them down!”

Her friend’s voice was heavy with sadness. “I’m sorry but they talked me into it. Truly we have no choice. We have a chance to stop Gus here, Now. Doctor McClellan’s trap might work with more help.”

Val held her breath as the critter almost yanked his self free, the girls’ magnetic screen was straining, trying to hold it. Just one thin arcing bolt holding it down. She saw The Buggy pop up over the ridge and the kids, her students, were flying towards them. Feelings warred within her. As much as her very soul rebelled at these youngsters being treated as she and her friends had been, she was also a pragmatic freedom fighter. Ollie was right. There was no other choice.

Almost immediately, she saw the difference as Malak added her strength to her Maxi-clone's magnetic screen. The shimmering blue half-sphere of arcing sparks brightened and pushed Kiloton back down towards Doc’s web. The ruptured piping had partially refilled the pit and gel hissed as it boiled away. First one, and then another bolt of lightning shot out, draining the monster in a crackling fury of power.

Amanda started chilling the area, hoping to help reinforce Malak's screen. The Maxi-Amandas' powers had been too weak to make a difference but theirs added to hers did as the blue shimmer of the entrapping screen grew brighter.

It was working! By Gawd it was working!

Val’s brow wrinkled. Her luck had begun singing low and now was building again towards another crescendo. Even a lifetime of trying to decipher her talent’s warning didn’t help much. The Monster from Gus’s Id was thrashing wildly as arcs of power poured off of him.

Was its very center somehow even brighter? Like a sledgehammer it hit her!

‘Ollie!” she cried. “Patch this through to everyone, Stat! He’s going to blow up!

“Done Val,“ her friend reported back. “Hailing channel open!“

She warned, “Attention! Kiloton is building up to detonation!”

“Everyone get to Malak or one of her clones! Malak, cover your teammates!” she ordered.

As never before she pushed herself. In slow motion the kids leaped for cover of their screening teammate. However there was one person out here who had no protection, Maggie.

Val’s visor’s HUD showed her where her lover was, and racing the colliding particles building to critical mass, she ran. She didn’t dare look backwards for fear the growing radiance would completely blind her. In a well practiced maneuver, she scooped up Maggie, and ran for the only cover she could find, a concrete blockhouse a short distance away.

The flash behind her warned her time had run out. Expecting to be crisped by the fireball, she found it pushing her forward! Her force-screen from the Lizzie clone! She wrapped her screen around Maggie like she’d done with Lizzie. Sliding, swimming, flailing, she dived for the shadow of the blockhouse!

In a bone breaking collision with planet Earth, they stopped! Next to her, Maggie struggled, trapped in Val’s form hugging protective cocoon. In an exhale, she released it, and a breathless Maggie rolled away gasping for air.

They were lying in a shallow pit she’d plowed out by her out of control crash. Nearby a Humvee laid in a twisted burning wreck. Laying on her back, she saw the enormous nuclear fireball climbing into the sky where the aurora still danced. If not for that clone of Lizzie’s that’d died and passed on her powers to Val, she and Maggie would’ve been crispy corpses. The Kids! Her rattled brain’s screamed!

Pulling herself up to see, Val saw a nearly perfect circle in the blast zone where Malak’s and her clone's magnetic field had protected their teammates. One of the clone teams’ Maxi-Malaks had gotten close enough to merge her screen with the more powerful original. Together their strength had been enough. The other team of clones, by themselves, hadn’t been. The fact that Maxi-Malak’s screen had almost worked was evidenced by the scattered bodies that were still moving, laid out as if thrown by the hand of giant, instead of just being incinerated.

The 100 yard across crater burned into the Nevada desert, steamed and smoked as the Monster floated above. It showed the wounds of its battles. Forced to expend so much energy, it was no longer giant sized, but nearer Gus’s own height of 6’. But now the web of cables and gel that had helped dampen and ground its energy into the earth was vaporized. Weakened, but still maddened, it turned its attention to those who would dare attack it.

While everyone else were trying to recover, the monster mercilessly glided down to those who were closest. Unfortunately, it was also those who were the most seriously injured.

In Route to Area 61 from Las Vegas

Sapphira heard their pilots cursing even as her instruments warned her of the oncoming danger. The mushrooming nuclear fireball rising into the night was modern man’s ultimate nightmare. Their dropships were built to handle just about any condition up to and including this one. They would see real soon if they lived up to specifications.

According to her sensors, the radiation released was much less than what you would find from a standard fission or fusion reaction, but it was still unmistakably a nuclear reaction of some type. A rough estimate of yield was about 10 kilotons which put at slightly smaller than the Atomic bomb used at Hiroshima.

That was small comfort as the blast wave rushed in upon them.

In Route to Area 61

Pyotr and his team silently watched the huge fireball climbing into the desert night sky as they raced to his sister‘s rescue. He was using his telekinesis to fly them all as fast as he could. It wasn’t anywhere near as fast as his dear sister could travel, but was considerably faster than any ground vehicle and most helicopters could manage.

Pragmatic old Soviet military doctrine had prepared them for what to do if nuclear weapons were employed. They had all served or trained under those who had the expectation that nuclear weapons would be used and they were prepared for that eventuality. True, he never expected to see them used here, but his home was nicknamed Mutant-stan because of its many mutants. It was a very tempting target for their enemies who hated and abhorred them.

Quickly, as they’d been trained, Pyotr dropped to the ground, where they all went prone. He reformed his protective globe into a low well-sloped dome around them.
Like a tsunami, the shock wave towered above them as it rushed upon them. With a mighty roar it fell on his team and all of them covered themselves just in case Pyotr’s TK screen failed. This was one of those things you couldn’t practice against the real thing, and you really, really hoped you never would actually have to.

The superheated storm of air, sand, and rocks thundered as it rolled over them.

In a space of a few very long heartbeats later, he released the breath he’d been holding. He’d passed the test.

No one wanted to ask if it was still necessary that they continue. Pyotr was one of the very few who knew just how tough his adoptive sister truly was. Point in fact, she had already survived such an experience before. It’d half-killed her, but thinking about that made him think. The strange nature of this entire matter, beginning with Val’s alter-ego being arrested, and brought back to this place where she had her genesis. And now this; two enormous events; one a powerful EMP and the other a nuclear explosion.

His friend Ivan remarked as they stood. “I know we weren’t supposed to start any wars, but it looks like Valentina has begun one without us.”

Arghun replied, “I know she can be temperamental from time to time, but who would be foolish enough to try this? Don‘t they know her at all?”

Everyone turned at looked at the dark wiry man.

Blinking at the attention, he kept on. “It will take more than that to kill her. It will only make her angry. We should hurry to save the poor misguided fool before she shows them Kuzma’s Mother!” he said, as the fireball rose higher into the sky behind him.

As they continued staring, he blushed, deliberately taking their incredulous expressions that anyone who could do such things had to worry about anyone, wrongly. “Not that I’m saying your sister, Pyotr, is anything other than a kind hearted paragon of virtue.”

Pyotr began laughing first and the others joined in.

“Come now,” he told them. “Let us go rescue these imprudent Americans from my sweet sister. Like our friend Arghun said, we have to save them from their folly!”

Area 61 Testing range.

While everyone else were trying to recover, the monster mercilessly glided down to those who were closest. Unfortunately, it was also those who were the most seriously injured.

Val dipped back into Slow-Time again to give herself time to study the problem and make the best of a very bad situation. She had no idea just how badly that group of Max’s clones were hurt, but they didn’t look good. Simply her zooming down there and snatching them out of harm’s way might kill them just as surely as Gus’s Monster would.

It was all taken from her hands, as the blast door from the blackened bunker exploded open and Maxi-Bad charged out! He paused a second to rip one of Doc’s patented radio headsets from his head before grabbing a twisted length of trolley railing that had once ran into the pit. In a huge running leap he charged into the Monster!

Val exclaimed, “Oh Crap!,” but she didn’t interfere. He was obviously trying to stop Gus, even if she didn’t have a clue how the hell he’d gotten inside that blockhouse to begin with. Just as obviously whoever on the other end of that radio didn’t want him stampeding to the rescue. Knowing Ole Lying-To-Me Laramie’s penchant for crisis management, she could make a really good guess.

Looking into the now open blockhouse doorway, she saw the zoomie guard slowly bring up what had to be the remote to Max’s implants.

Now, that, she could and would do something about. She didn’t dare try destroy the thing, not knowing what twisty-minded traps the thing might have. Val did notice that as she grew used to the force screen she now had, it did help her running. In a flash she was next to the would be executioner.

Glancing back as she handed the device to Maggie, he was staring at his empty hand, wondering what had happened. Jauntily, she waved at him. However, she had other problems. “They were trying to activate his implants with this. Watch out for traps,” she sent, using her touch pad, which was faster than speaking given her speed and Maggie’s techno powers.

Then she was racing to get back to the fight. Max had cleared the football field distance and had the length of rail out in front of him like a lancer. Her students had recovered, and had thrown up protection for the wounded. Malak’s magnetic screen and Josh’s illusions were doing the job.

It took her only a moment to work out what Max had in mind. He might be a bruiser, but he was a smart bruiser. Spotting some of the cable that hadn’t gotten slagged in the explosion, she coiled up a few dozen feet.

Another rapid fire cracks of thunder roared as Max slammed his lance home into the Monster, but not before making sure one end was firmly dug into the glassy melted rim of the crater. Once more grounded, Gus’s critter roared again. Like a wounded beast it whipped around to attack its tormentor. A crackling mass of energy arced out at Max!

Grounding the end of her cable, Val roughly looped the end like a lasso, and careful not to electrocute herself, dropped it around her brother’s alter-ego as he was distracted. That’s one, she counted. Rushing, she returned for more grounding rods.

In a teeth grinding grimace, Max took the burning shot as it washed around him. The big man wasn’t invulnerable, but he was quite possibly the toughest man alive. He’d been through things that lesser beings couldn’t even dream of surviving, but he had just shrugged it off. Now the wash of energy vaporized flesh, but it grew back almost as fast as it flashed to steam.

The monster however had other concerns. Two metal grounds were leeching its life away in a spectacular lightning show. It cut Max’s lance from itself with a blowtorch-like beam and labored to do the same with Val’s lasso.

Grimly, with his skin still smoking, Max grasped the severed railing. His hands hissed as they touched the white hot metal. With a roar, the tough guy from Chicago’s Southside wrapped the railing about the Monster again. A crack of lightning thundered again as more of the monster’s life poured away.

This time, even as his blackened flesh melted away, Max wrapped his broad arms about the Monster. Their mutual screams of pain echoed across the battlefield. One carried the pain and determination of a man’s heart while the other of a wild beast of energy and crackling wild power trying to survive at all costs.

Electrons twisted and turned as their charges realigned themselves. The very power of the stars failed and like a candle it’s fires were extinguished. A final bright spark ended this battle of Titans as this time the heart proved stronger than rage.

To be Continued.

Chapter 47

General Robert Laramie stared at his command center’s big board. Most of the gigantic screen’s sub-windows showed nothing but static snow. The majority of the outside sensors and cameras had been taken out by the successive EMPs and that nuclear blast wave.

Above him the overhead lights flickered, and a few fixtures hanged dangling by their wires. He made a mental note to bring up that failure with his maintenance officer. Although they were within 5 klicks of ground zero, most of that distance had solid rock between his facility and it. Area 61 had been built to withstand nuclear attacks and in fact this was the second one it had survived.

Both had come from Kiloton and that first had been even closer. That one, thirty-four years ago, had been right on top of the base, but was far smaller. This latest one was far bigger, but still fell short of what the base could withstand. The problem was much of the force had been channeled downward by Meridian and the Hydra teams' magnetic fields. Because of that, Area 61 had taken more of a shaking than it should’ve.

The General cursed. That bitch had almost screwed up everything. If she was indeed Alan Glenn then as usual she had royally frakked up the works. If Meridian had engaged in the battle from the beginning there’d been a good chance Kiloton could’ve been neutralized before the monster had a chance to go critical and explode.

She had, he reluctantly admitted, lured Kiloton to the target area. However he was confident he would’ve thought of a suitable tactic that would’ve accomplished the task. Then Simpson had charged out, yelling something about saving his children. Gawd save him from nutcases!

That reprobate didn’t even have any children. If he survived, that was one convict that was getting his ass sent back to the hind end of the universe.

Trying not to show his impatience, he stared at the bank of screens showing nothing but electronic snow. They did have communications with the bunker, before Simpson had charged out in his forlorn hope. It did look as if they had managed to take out Kiloton, but they didn’t know for certain. That last surge of interference had interrupted communications again.

At least according to Dr. McClellan it was only more EM and a small amount of radiation. That left them a good chance that Meridian and Hydra were still recoverable. As bad as things turned out, he still thought he could spin the damage control so his career would be safe. Preserving those two valuable assets would go a long ways in doing just that.

Finally a few screens came to life as the bunker’s crew piped back live video footage of the battlefield.

“Good,” the General grunted, as he studied the displays. Kiloton had transformed back into a form more easily dealt with. Mission successful. “Deploy the recovery and medical teams, ASAP! Tell Operation Thunderbolt they may begin operations. Dr. McClellan,” he barked. “Prepare to send out the Hydra and Meridian incapacitation implant activation codes. Knock them all out, including that woman if you can. We‘ll sort out who‘s who in the medical wing.”

The scientist looked at him and nodded. Turning to the white coated technician seated at a console at his elbow, he asked, “Have they dropped their magnetic screens?”

The tech nodded, “Yes sir. Our signals should get through.”

Meeting the General’s gaze, Dr. McClellan ordered, “Send the code.” Lifting the safety cover, the technician pressed the preprogrammed transmit code. It carried its message at the speed of light .

Val winced as static electricity crackled and popped as she stood up. That last blast, while it hadn’t packed the wallop of a nuke, had still been big enough to knock everyone ass over teakettle. It’ll released one hell of lot of static.

Even walking caused sparks to jump about her. As much as she wanted to hurry to her brother, with the air being so charged right now, it would not be a good idea. At least her uniform provided protection from it. The heat and sharp edged fused glass snapped and crunched as she made her way carefully down the steep slope of the crater. Her visor was registering some radiation, but not as much as she first feared. More like getting a series of X-rays, than what you would expect from staggering down into a ground burst crater. That last blast sent both Max and Kiloton over the edge and into the smoking hole that resembled an entrance into hell.

She hadn’t learned how to truly fly yet, but trusted her newest gift to help lower her down the treacherous slope. Reaching the bottom, Val saw both of them were still alive, but Max was much more badly hurt. The old convict was a mangled, burnt wreck of a hulk, but somehow the big man was still moving. He’d lost both arms and one leg as well as being charred black from the living nuclear furnace he’d wrestled with.

And won, Val reminded herself. With sad irony she remembered what she’d said way back when the Rocketeers were trying to arrest him. ‘It’d take a nuke to kill the big bad man from Chicago.’ It seemed she had it right.

Val stopped, kneeling down by him as the fused ground shattered under her boots into crystal shards. He didn’t look good. She could tell his abilities were trying to heal him, but they were losing the fight. Maggie included a small but compact emergency medical pouch with her armor, but Max’s injuries were far beyond what its meager contents could manage. Shaking her head sadly, she started to stand.

“Wait, donna’ go,” Max croaked. “Ya‘, Vroom’s daughter or sumpthing?”

His eyes had regenerated as well as the rest of his head and neck. However she could see his regenerative abilities struggle and slow as the severity of his injuries overwhelmed his talent. She didn’t think even a state of the art trauma ward could help him right now. Not that even she could get him to one in time to make a difference. Either his powers would save him or they wouldn’t. Right now it didn’t really look too good.

Val answered softly, “Yeah, that’ll do. Hang on. We’ll try and get help,” she said, fearing it was far too late for that.

“There’s no help for me. Maybe there never was. If ya’ anything like your old man I know you’ll keep ya’ promises. I know, I’m a bastard, but I have a favor ta’ ask.”

He rasped. “Look after my kids. My clones is everyone else calls them. They’ve a chance at a new start, don’t let them do what I’ve done.”

A long pause passed. “Please,” he asked in a near whisper closing his eyes.

A tear ran down her cheek under her helmet. “I promise.”

All he could manage was a low grunt as finally his powers failed. Without it fighting to keep him alive, blood and fluids starting running from the stumps of his limbs and ruined flesh.

She stood, repeating her promise to the old tough guy who had at long last redeemed himself. “I promise.”

Her brother lay only 20 feet further away, but it was one of the longest journeys she’d ever taken. He still looked like he did that day so many years before. He was dressed in the old Rocketeers’ uniform. Blood stained one shoulder through a nasty rip that she guessed was where Max speared him with that rail.

So many emotions were welling up inside. Sorrow competed with anger, and compassion warred with selfishness. How she had missed him so terribly, but why hadn’t he been stronger. Why had he’d let those terrible things happen so many years ago? Why had he left her all alone?

Making her way to his side, her eyes filled with tears. All those things had never been Gus’s fault. Like them all, he had his childhood stolen. Her brother had tried his best to be the father-figure that the Air Force boys in blue had denied them all. If he had failed, it was only because despite having the powers of a god, he was in the end only human.

Raising her visor, she felt the rush of the still brutal heat that had seared this hole in the earth only minutes ago. Ignoring the discomfort, she knelt by her brother, checking his wound. Doc’s Rocketeer supersuit had already helped seal the area, stopping the bleeding. Pulling out her own med kit, she treated the wound.

Gus’s eyes opened wide in shock. “What happened? Who are you? Where am I?”

Gently she told him. “You’re at Area 61 at one of the ranges. You took a wound to your shoulder, but it doesn’t look too bad.”

He looked at her curiously. “You kind of look like Kat, but you’re not her.”

Val shook her head. “No, I’m not Kat. What is the last thing you remember?”

Grimacing at his pain, he laid his head back trying to think. “My team and I had just been zapped again. We were recovering top side, I think.”

Gus’s entire body convulsed as he remembered. “Joyce! I felt her die!”

Anguish filled his face. “They killed her! Somehow I knew that she had died. I was so angry. She was only 12 and they murdered her with their damn experiment. I knew Lafitte had ordered us to be zapped again. It was his fault! I wasn’t going to let him do this to anyone anymore. I …” His voice trailed off in a choke, his face white.

Looking behind her, Val saw he’d seen what was left of poor Max.

Shocked, he whispered, “It wasn’t a dream. I really did kill all those people!” he cried, and tried to get up despite his wound.

Val gently held him down as she continued to check him for more injuries. “No you did not! The killers were the same ones who pulled the trigger on Joyce. Just like it killed her, it did something to you that last time. You transformed into a Leviathan-like creature. It wasn’t your fault at all, but the ones who caused it.”

Gus’s voice was heavy with guilt, didn‘t agree. “How many besides him?” he asked hoarsely.

Val sighed, her heart aching for him. “Don’t worry 'bout that right now. We need to get you out of here. I think it’s okay to move you. The only injury I can find is your shoulder. Okay, let’s get you on your feet.“

She could’ve easily carried him, but Val felt it was better this way. Gus had never been the sort to wallow in his troubles, but he needed something to do to keep his mind off of what was happening. Helping by his good shoulder, they hobbled towards the rim.

Gus looked at her intently again. “You never did tell me who you are or who you’re with. I don’t recognized your uniform,” he asked, implying his questions as he looked around at the enormous hole they were at the bottom of.

Val smiled as she looked up at the rim, judging her location. “Now days, I’m a private citizen although I do hold a reserve officer’s commission in my homeland’s militia. I guess you could say I have dual citizenship. Hold on. I’m going to lift us out of here, but my flight isn‘t very good.”

He grunted as their feet left the ground and they headed upwards. “Then you’re trespassing, and you still haven’t told me who you are. You still seem familiar somehow, but I still can’t place you.”

They were rising only a bit faster than the smoke and steam from the crater’s heat fused bottom. She and he could see the perfect circle of the pit that’d been formed, cookie cutter-like, by Malak and her clones' magnetic fields attempting to contain Kiloton’s blast.

Pressed close together, he stared at her. She didn’t know how to help him. However, she knew as they set foot outside the pit she had to find a way. When Kiloton had transformed back into Gus, that last blast wave had taken its toll. Although not anywhere as powerful as that nuclear-like blast that’d dug that new pit behind her, it still had released enough energy to cause even more static discharges. The kids that had been protected, like Lizzie and her Maxi-clones, were fine, but everyone else looked in rough shape, with shocks and burns.

That wasn’t even counting that one group of clones whose Maxi-Malak had been unable to completely protect her team. They were in a bad way. She could hear the wail of rescue vehicles on their way so she guessed those hardened hangers had survived Kiloton’s temper tantrum.

The thing was she now had a big problem. She had made a promise. Even if she hadn’t, Val still would have wanted to help those Max called his children. They being real, and not temporary, changed everything. Too many bad guys had created cloned monsters and creatures as nothing more than weapons. Like any sane person did with a mad dog, you shot it before it could hurt anyone. The rule of thumb was clones such as Max’s were dangerous and were destroyed. There had been exceptions over the years, like that girl who was the ward of the Chevaliers in New Riverside. However she had no doubts that the General had no intentions of letting anyone know about his secret little supra-army.

But even if she wanted to, she couldn’t take them with her. There simply wasn’t room in the Buggy. Not to mention almost all of them needed medical help, up to and including her students. Malak and Lizzie were fine, but the other four were all hurt to some degree.

Gus standing by her side must have noticed her dipping into Slow-Time to think things out. Figuring things out, he muttered, “I’ve seen this before. It’s Slow-Time. It’s your eyes. You have Alan’s eyes. You’re my brother.”

Turning to him her breath caught. Her Luck was singing yet again this night. The sad soaring tones couldn’t be missed this time. Something else bad was going to happen. Wasn’t what had already occurred enough for one night? Was her brother going to be unable to cope with her changes? Or was it something else?

Val nodded slowly as she wondered what it was going to be.

A message blinking in urgent red flashed on her HUD.

“HOSTILE SIGNAL DETECTED. COUNTERATTACK INITIATED.”

'Was this message what her Luck was warning her about and not her brother’s reaction?' she wondered.

Gus’s eyes widened as he tried to understand. “But you’re old now! How did you manage to change?”

“This doesn’t bother you?” she asked, with her eyes looking for the unseen threat.

He smiled at her. “Ollie told us all a long time ago about your problem. I can’t say I understand, but no matter boy, or girl, I’ll always be your big brother. Now will you tell me where are everyone else and how did you get so old?”

She looked for the doom her talent was forewarning of but saw nothing. Val started to answer when a splash of warm wetness hit her cheek as her brother fell.

Chapter 48

Area 61 test range

“Duck and cover my ass,” Staff Sergeant Green cursed sourly as he dug himself and his spotter, Hennessy, out of their partially collapsed sniper hide. Quickly he checked his gear and found everything still operational, even that damn gee whiz scope on his rifle.

Hennessy gave him the thumb’s up sign as the spotter checked their field phone, while he tried to find out what the hell had just happened. There had been not one, but two blasts. The first had been a damn nuke and he was dead certain they’d both been too damn close. Maybe it’d missed them today, but he was all too aware of the possibility of radiation poisoning or cancer ending Mama Green’s little boy’s life way too damn early.

The second one was like that thing that had cause that aurora still dancing over their heads. They had still been trying to unearth themselves during that one and that had probably been a real good thing all considered.

Studying his scope, Sergeant Green saw that bunch of kids that had been fighting that big glowing thing. Most of them looked to have been hurt, some pretty bad, but the majority of them were mobile. One woman dressed in something like all black assault gear had pulled out a med kit, and was aiding the wounded.

Alright, he decided, that made them ‘friendlies.’ He found no sign of that ballsy dame who had been playing tag with the damn energy monster thing. Sergeant Green rather hoped she was alright. Wouldn’t mind meeting her, judging from what he could see from the way she filled out that suit of hers. Not that it mattered much. With his luck she’d turn out to be an officer or someone else strictly off limits to enlisted like him. Hell, if nothing else, he figured they all owed her a drink, considering the chances she took luring that thing into the ambush.

“Sergeant, HQ wants to know if we see a man in a blue uniform,” Hennessy asked.

Giving the area another quick scan, he was about to answer, 'no', when he saw two heads poke above the crater’s rim. One was his foxy dame, but the other was someone new. He was wearing a blue uniform with red and white strips running down the arms and legs. It seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it.

“Affirmative, I got one spotted. He’s with the woman in the motorcycle helmet who lured that monster over here. Looks like he’s wounded in the shoulder and doesn’t appear to be a threat since she’s helping him stand,” Green added. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling something was out of kilter about all of this.

“HQ says he’s the target and to engage at the soonest,” his spotter relayed to him.

The sergeant’s stomach twisted. The target wasn’t hardly older than the rest of the kids out there. Plus he was already hurt. “Tell HQ I want to confirm that order. This kid can’t be more than 18 himself, and he’s already wounded.”

They’d all had class after class about what constituted an illegal order. What they didn’t tell you was what to do in the gray area. Someone had just set off a nuke on an American military base for Gawd‘s sake. Now HQ was telling him to service a target who was already wounded, and didn’t look to be a threat.

Formally, Hennessy, reported, “Sergeant Green, HQ confirms the man being helped by that woman is the target. They say again, he’s to be engaged at the soonest.”

Praying he wasn’t making a mistake he pulled the heavy weapon into his shoulder. The damn thing kicked like a SOB, and if he was going to do this he was going to do it right. “Get on your spotter scope, and confirm what you see.”

Hennessy shook his head wondering what was up with the Staff Sergeant but did as he was told.

Green asked him, “You got him? Does he look familiar in anyway?”

The Lance Corporal replied, “Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s just as HQ described. I don’t recognize him, but I don’t really pay attention to all that mutant hype stuff.

Green sighed. He couldn’t find a good reason not to obey his orders. He still intended on doing his 20 and retiring. “Tell HQ we’re engaging,” he said sighing.

Falling back into his shooters stance, he began acquiring his target. He’d no idea what these strange damn conditions would have on his ballistics. No one to his knowledge had ever attempted to engage a target under post-nuke battlefield conditions. Everything affects projectile trajectory; humidity, air density, among others. The heat and smoke wouldn’t make this easy but his scope took care of most of the problems.

Like he had countless times before he slowly squeezed the trigger. Training made the shot routine as he fired. The XM-111’s 25 mm shell erupted from the rifle. It covered the distance between Sergeant Green and his target in an eye blink. If it had hit center of mass like he’d intended, the target would never had known what had hit him, but for one small problem.

Both the rifle and scope had been specially selected for this mission. Each had been made as tough and as shielded from harm as possible. In this case, neither failed, but instead it was the ammunition. The 25mm rounds took programming on the fly so the best time could be selected for the explosive rounds to detonate. In this case, Sergeant Green had selected 'none at all', depending on the massive round to do the job by old fashion kinetic force.

The extreme conditions of multiple EMPs and static fields it had generated caused the fusing to malfunction. Rather than strike the target, the shell exploded just over two feet short of its target. Shrapnel struck both the target and the woman standing nearby.

Val never felt the rain of razor sharp metal fragments as they struck her. Most bounced off of her Lizzie-like force screen and the few that did slide through that were stopped by her supersuit. She had eyes only for her brother who had fallen at her side. He’d been hit 7 times, including once in his unprotected head. Her hands, lightning quick, used the bandages in her kit to stop the bleeding but she’d no idea of the possible internal damage. All the while she’d dropped her visor down, replaying the entire event.

Maggie was ahead of her and had already backtracked the missile back to its point of origin. Knowing she’d done all she could for her brother, she needed to make sure everyone else were safe from this newest danger. Following her HUD‘s directions, she sped there, crossing the mile or so in a mere breath. The static charge in the air was less now, although lightning was still randomly striking, giving the whole scene an unreal feel. She was unsurprised to find a pair of well hidden soldiers, who had ridden out Kiloton’s wrath.

The mammoth gun in front of them received all of her anger. Using every ounce of strength she had, Val ripped the offending thing apart even as her fingers dug indents into the steel. The rending metal partially assuaged her anger. The startled looks of the crew did the rest as they saw her fury.

The sergeant held up his hands and urged the other to as well. After dropping the field phone he’d been holding, the other followed suit.

“Doesn’t matter anyways. HQ’s gone again. Lost them right before …” the young soldier shut up as the older sergeant gave him a nasty glance.

“Shit!” he muttered and closed his eyes in pain. “Now, I remember.”

He looked up at Val who still trembled in anger. “Now I know him. You’re a speedster like Vroom. That makes our target Captain Blazzar. Congratulations Hennessy, we just shot one of the good guys.”

The younger man looked at him confused. “But we confirmed with HQ, not once but twice!

The Sergeant wincing explained, “Ma’am, I am sorry. I just didn’t recognize him. You should know that there were to be 3 other teams like ours out here. We were told a group of terrorists were going to attack. I know it’s small consolation, but I am sorry,” he said in sorrow.

Holding onto the reins of her temper, she asked, “You say your Headquarters confirmed you had the right man?”

The younger nodded. “Yes Ma’am. Twice, and the Sergeant asked me to confirm too, but I didn‘t know him.” Bewildered he asked, “Who is Captain Blazzar?”

Letting her breath out slowly, seeking calmness, despite the torment of her heart, she replied before racing off to look for those other snipers. “My brother.”

Her senses spread wide, looking for the others, she overheard the Sergeant say to his younger companion, “I think maybe we’re going to live. Let’s make a lesson of this. Never ever let someone volunteer you for some cushy assignment. Grab your gear. There’s wounded out there and we’re going to help. On the way I‘ll give you a little history lesson about Captain Blazzar and the Rocketeers.”

Technician James Farris watched the telemetry for all the Hydra and Meridian subjects, plus one. The control window for their implants appeared on his monitor. He had a front row seat in the command center for the whole show. However with Dr. McClellan and the commanding General of Area 61 standing right at his shoulder, he had little time to enjoy the experience. The young scientist-technician was far too busy monitoring these extraordinary youngsters. He’d just activated the small devices implanted in each of the subjects designed to render them safely unconscious.

One of the active Hydra teams were a mess, according to the information their suits and implants were relaying back to him. The Meridian team’s readings were a little weird. Although surveillance showed none of them had been seriously injured, they had been banged around out there, but their telemetry showed nothing. According to the data stream, they could still be asleep back in their quarters.

Still, they were mutants, and they had recently undergone Dr. McClellan’s process. Who knew what was normal for them any more? Besides, speaking of which, the good Doctor was literally looking over his shoulder, so if something was seriously wrong, he would know, right?

As for the ‘plus one,’ Ms. Vroom, her newly activated data link was sending back a wealth of exciting readings. She was racing at an average speed of 350 mph and all of her vital signs were extremely abnormal. He’d never seen anything like this before. What he could tell was she's so far off the charts that she brought a whole new meaning to the top most powerful mutant category of Omega. And yeah, if he was reading this right, she was really, really, pissed.

That was a very bad combination, since James had a very good idea the two responsible were standing right behind him. If and when she caught up with them he wanted to be far, far away.

The Hydra teams responded to the sedatives as expected, but strangely, although their implants acknowledged receiving the commands, the Meridian subjects weren’t showing any signs of going under. For that matter neither did Ms. Vroom.

Suddenly his monitor flickered and then things went really crazy. James stared at the skull and crossbones laughing at him from his monitor. He’d known that Area 61 was instrumental in coming up with the computer virus that had helped defeat the Alien Gray invasion years ago. It seemed someone else also knew, and had returned the favor, flying the same flag so to speak.

The lights went out completely, leaving only the battery operated emergency lights. The huge wall-size monitor flashed strobe-like with the mocking skulls. James heard the curses as everyone tried to respond to this newest crisis. He was a geneticist specializing in supra-humans. This was so far out of his abilities, he didn’t have a clue of what to do.

Then he was thrown from his chair! Sprawled on the floor, James gaped, as the old Doctor who’d manhandled him, manically typed in a continuous rattle. How had that almost 70 year old man tossed him so easily? James wasn’t the biggest guy in the world but his 200 pounds didn’t make him a light weight either.

The General rushed over and he overheard the two senior men talking. “Not to belabor the obvious General, but we have been virused. I am back-dooring into the mainframe, trying to moderate the damage. It got through our filters, piggybacked on the telemetry signals,” Dr. McClellan explained.

The military man didn’t look at all happy in the washed out lights, like something from an old black and white film. “How bad is it Doctor? We’re in the middle of an ‘A’ One crisis. Without command, control, and communications, C3, this could turn into a wildfire,” he said, with special emphasis, giving the senior scientist a look James didn’t quite understand.

One of James’s fellow techs reported, “The main power grid is down, and so is everything connected to the BMAC. That isn’t even physically on the same network. All command functions are down and so is security. On a positive note, emergency services such as medical, environmental, and the elevators are still online.”

Dr. McClellan, said over the rattle of his keystrokes, “That’s because they weren’t targeted by this. It is almost AI-like the way this attack is going after every function, except for a few vital ones, to prevent lost of life. It is a work of art and if we can preserve a sample it will make for an interesting study. However at this time, I can‘t stop what it has already done. I can only try to keep it from inflicting more damage by shutting down systems before it gets to them.”

The General looked real unhappy hearing that. “Dr. McClellan that is not what I wanted to hear.” Turning for the main console he said, “Let’s hope for our sakes that the Hot Line is still up, otherwise I hope you can run very fast Doctor.” Picking up the phone, his face took on an indescribable expression. Slowly he shook his head and sat down heavily.

James was getting a really bad feeling about all of this.

Master Security Control for Area 61
Location: Top Secret.

Operative Number 11 kept wiping his clammy hands. They’d been briefed about what was going to happen at Area 61. But no one knew just how bad it was going to get. As soon as they'd ejected the damn thing, it had cut loose with a EMP that had knocked out power to the entire region. Reports were still coming in, but Las Vegas and Reno were definitely in the dark. Gawd only knew how far out and bad it was.

What he did know is that it had knocked out one of their secure comm lines. Then things got serious. Two unknown women got involved which raised all kinds of security flags, but at least they were trying to stop the monster codenamed Kiloton.

Just so things didn’t get too boring, the experimental subjects from Project Meridian had shown up after apparently escaping. That really made no one here happy because that was why they were here after all, to make sure none of the dangerous projects there at Area 61 got loose.

Kiloton just had to blow the flak up, and let loose with another EMP that screwed up the power grid even more. In the process, it took out yet another of those comm lines that were supposed to have been shielded against everything man and Gawd could throw against it.

Down to one vital line, they saw just how much damage a 10kt nuke could do. One of their experts who’d rushed in still dressed in his PJ’s and robe, thought it might have been bigger, but had been partially contained by the powerful magnetic fields projected by the Hydra and Meridian teams. What it did do was shake the hell out of Area 61, two miles underground or not.

Then on the heels of that disaster, more trouble reared its ugly head. The data was still coming, and it caused Number 11’s mouth to go completely dry. Someone or something was using the disruption to attempt a cyber attack on Area 61. It was so fast that even the well protected computers at Area 61 hadn’t known what had hit them.

Number 11’s own supercomputers were giving a high possibility that it was either AI or AI designed due to how fiendishly quick the code co-opted resources. Immediately, that pointed fingers at the BMAC. Suddenly the recent thefts of computer components from their admin section made sense. That suggested the old AI was trying to escape. Just how it managed to get access to do so was moot. That couldn’t be allowed after it nearly plunged the world into a nuclear war twenty years ago.

The senior Operative began the sequence of events to initialize the Wildfire sterilization protocol. Together he and Number 11, turned their keys. Nodding at each other, as their safety covers popped open, they pressed the glowing red buttons.

Chapter 49

Area 61 test range

Val was racing to the location of the last of the snipers when she got the rest of the bad news. As Maggie’s text ran across her HUD, she sighed. The second of the hidden pairs of soldiers had the bad luck to have gotten in the way of one of Kiloton’s badly aimed blasts. Those were going to be a closed casket funerals. The third hadn’t been as unlucky but hadn’t been dug in deep enough, so they were badly injured from Kiloton going critical. As she approached the last team, it didn’t look as if they were in any condition to hurt anyone either. She quickly tapped out her own message back to Maggie, giving the location of all these wounded, as she composed her reply to the bad news.

“Gus was hit bad. As good as The Rocketeer supersuits were thirty-five years ago, that shrapnel was designed to penetrate bulletproof materials. I’m a reasonable battlefield medic, but he needs a surgical team STAT. All of Max’s clones are out. I’m guessing their implants have been activated. However those caught in that blast needs help now!”

Her lover had also confessed to doing a bad thing. “Val, I hate to say it but the nearest help is back at Area 61. But I think I may have done a really big Oops. I never expected we would have to return to that place after we’d left.

“I was a little upset by our first escape attempt failing because I didn’t catch that backup system hidden in your implants. When I re-engineered that supra-speed suit for you I dug into my own bag of tricks. If someone tried to activate any of the built-in overrides and control functions, they would get a really nasty surprise. Big Mac and I designed one mean mother of a cyber virus that will kick ass and take names.”

Val couldn’t really blame Maggie, because unless someone tried to use her suit against her, nothing would have happened. At least she knew what that whole warning that about “counter measures” was all about now. Hell, she never expected to have to return to Area 61 either.

But Gus was badly wounded and needed immediate medical attention. That was not even taking Max’s 12 kids into account. Half of them were just as badly off as Gus, and like Maggie said, Area 61 was the nearest medical help. The Buggy couldn’t carry everyone who was hurt, and even as fast as it was, it would still take time they didn‘t have to get to a hospital.

One thing's for certain, she wasn’t about to leave Gus to the Air Force’s tender care, seeing how they just tried to assassinate him. Now that Val’s secret was in the open, and given the way she’d been treated, Maggie wasn’t about to leave Val behind here either. That left Ollie and the Kids, who were probably too stubborn to leave too.

That left Area 61, and Maggie’s little present which was no doubt busily trashing every computer in the joint. That was good because that meant Laramie and Doc were out of the command loop, sitting down there while all that silicon was melting around their ears.

That was also Bad. If their unseen watchers thought things had spiraled out of control, and that the inmates were escaping, they just might, just might mind you, push that little red button to blow them all to kingdom come.

She shook her head. That was always the problem with Slow-Time. It gave her too much time to double think things. What was important here was Gus’s only real chance to survive was Area 61. Val wasn’t about to lose her brother, not after she had finally found him after so long. Then too, there was the promise she made to Max.

She could count as well as anyone, and she knew that 30 of Max’s clones had been taken away and that so far she could count only 12. Even with the one Maxi-Lizzie that she knew had died, that still left 17.

Val had spent her life rescuing those whose only crime were being born different, a mutant. At first it’d been only from the bigots and organizations like the Humanity League. Then as the laws had started to get more discriminatory against mutants, her foes had expanded to include the government, and in particular, ULTIMATE.

She had lost everything she’d held dear to the Interests of National Security, and so called sacrifices for the greater good. Val had seen first hand how power meant to serve and protect could be corrupted. She had come to admire the State motto of New Hampshire, “Live Free or Die!,” but preferred the paraphrased sentiment from a speech by General Patton, who Lt. Laramie use to quote all the time to the Rocketeers. “Let the other poor dumb bastard die for his beliefs. You live for yours”

There was no way she was going to leave even one of Max’s Kids to someone like Laramie’s tender mercies. Tapping on her touch pad, she wrote, “We’re Staying. Gus and Max’s clones. I don’t trust the Air Force. Risk of double cross and of self-destruct nuke. Topside should be safe. Find a way Home.”

Maggie replied immediately. “No. I’m the medic and will go with wounded! You’re the best able to find transport. Besides I still might be able to find some way to disarm that bomb. “

“I’ll remove implants from clones not too badly hurt. Maybe you can put them up with Ollie in the Buggy. “

“I know you’re worried about your brother, but you know you’re the best one to get us out of here. Now go!”

Val sighed. Maggie was right. Now the question was, where was she going to find something big enough to haul almost forty people, with 7 of those critically injured? Assuming the docs could stabilize everyone so they could be moved of course.

She was only too aware that time was not their friend. This whole place was going to be swarming with trigger happy gung-ho military types, and she already knew Laramie wouldn’t help them. Grabbing those Humvee ambulances and heading into the desert wouldn’t work for long. No, they needed air transport, and preferably an air ambulance with enough range to get them out of the country.

Out in the distance, a glowing ball of light, sparkling under the fading aurora, caught her attention. Val watched it for a long moment as it got closer, thinking that it just couldn’t be what she thought it was. Then on the other hand, sometimes one had just to ask, to receive.

Josh’s boots crunched on the glass as he hurried over to the little girl laying sprawled on the heat fused ground. Using his power to see through others' eyes, he’d helped send his teammates after those Maxi-clones that’d been mostly unhurt by the fight but had instead been knocked out by that crap the Air Force had stuck inside of them.

Kneeling beside Maxi-Lizzie, his eyebrows rose as he saw the scar on her forehead. This was the same clone that’d gone a little crazy, but whom he’d helped calm down. Josh exhaled. So Dr. McClellan had found a way to make their temporary lives more permanent.

Picking her up, he hustled over to where Maggie was removing those things from within them. Ollie had brought The Rocket up, and as soon as the blond woman had finished with one, they were moved inside and strapped down.

No one had said anything, but Josh had figured out they were staying. Maggie was jumping around like crazy between those hurt really bad and trying to keep the Air Force from getting their hands back on Max’s clones.

The Humvee ambulances were just getting there and the medics were jumping out to help. But the Air Force police guys were arriving too and he didn’t think they were there to help. He’d heard ‘Code Joshua’ just one too many times to think of them as anything other than trouble. Then it happened.

Maggie looked up as she worked. Her blue eyes sent him an unmistakable message. She was busy trying to save these kids’ lives and didn’t have time to deal with these cops.

Josh nodded back at her, understanding what she was asking. He would take care of it. Looking around he found who he was searching for, Malik. The buff teen had just returned from bringing back the last of Max’s clones. Catching his eye, Josh tossed his head towards the Air Force police headed their way.

Surprised, Malik gave him a questioning expression, but smiled as Josh grinned at him. Together, they turned to walk towards the on rushing guys in blue.

James was still scrambling to his feet when Dr. McClellan shouted, “General! Your override code, input it now!”

General Laramie sat up, his eyes brightening as he understood. The young scientist watched as both men started typing like mad.

The flickering black and white Skull and Crossbones blinked out and was replaced by a timer display reading 30:00. Then both the Doctor and the General sighed as it began counting backwards. 29:59.

Dr. McClellan explained, “I’ve only got partial control back, but that was enough to let us override the immediate execution of Wildfire using the emergency evacuation protocols. However all communications are still out, and the clock is running. I would suggest we get as far away as possible.”

James watched as the General nodded, taking command. “Listen up! The self-destruct has been activated. We’re evacuating. Let’s move it people!”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. James was already heading to the door as fast as his feet could carry him. He ran into the crush of other civilians running for their own lives.

Looking back behind him, James saw the General leaned back in his chair as the room emptied. His last glance before the press of bodies forced him from the room reminded him of a captain going down with his ship.

James firmly decided he would leave the melodramatics to the military types. He wasn’t going to die down here! Like the rest he pushed his way towards the exits, striving to survive.

In route to Area 61 from Las Vegas

Colonel Randolph Hodges, commander of ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade, had to use an act of iron will not to start whistling “The Ride of the Valkyries” as his V-22C command ship carried him into battle. The sky about him hummed with the powerful engines of over a hundred armed aircraft carrying hundreds of power-armored troopers. His people had done an outstanding job of keeping their gear mission ready, and despite the EMPs had still gotten nearly every machine into action.

Reports were still coming in, but the entire area had been slammed hard by the EMPs. Most communications were still out due to the same interference that was causing that aurora overhead. Landlines were still mostly operational, but hospitals and aircraft that’d been in flight, had been hit hard.

They were still some minutes away from Area 61, but SRT One should be entering the Area of Operations (AO) now. The US Air Force units in the area and at Edwards had been closer to the source and so were still recovering.

Many of his troopers were ex-American military and the rumors he and his staff had passed around that a group of mutants might be responsible for the attack were having the desired effect. They were mad, with blood in their eye, and that was just what he wanted.

His unwritten orders had been very clear. It was past time for the abomination of Area 61 to be lanced. It was bad enough for mutants to be tolerated, but to seek to empower the gene corrupted filth was outrageous.

With communications and satellites down, it was the perfect opportunity to not only leave Area 61 as nothing more than a smoking hole in the ground, but to make sure any mu-taint experiments become extinct. With good fortune, SRT One, ULTIMATE’s own tame mutants, would be caught in the middle and exterminated as well. After all the only good mu-tainted was a dead one.

Still no word from SRT One’s controllers, but no matter, his own RAH-66 Havoc scouts would soon be on station. Colonel Hodges shared a glance with his chief of staff, Major Baka. Both of them were strong believers in Humanity, and had no use at all for these so-called next step in evolution. They gave each other a shark-toothed grin. Today was going be a good day for the Race of Men.

Chapter 50

Area 61

Val smiled as she watched Josh handle the zoomies. The youngster had come a long ways, and she couldn’t help the pride she felt. He’d simply gave them a choice of wandering around out here blind or helping. The officer in charge had needed only a taste of what the teen could do to convince him. Besides, the poor fellow was on his own out here, without ole Laramie being unable to crisis manage everyone.

Maggie had packed the Buggy full of unconscious but otherwise healthy clones. Ollie had scooted out of reach of the zoomies, leaving only the ones that had to have medical attention. The officer had given in and now were helping the medics load stretchers as they worked to keep their patients alive.

Meanwhile she’d moved down the slope of the ridge to help conceal the glowing bubble heading straight for her. The radiance that had lit it up, was fading now as all that static electricity went away. Looking up she saw that the aurora that signaled the start this whole disaster was also growing dimmer.

That meant communications would be active again soon, and when that happened, all hell would break loose. She had no idea just how far away Gus’s alter-ego’s temper tantrum had been felt, but he must have dumped a crapper-load of charged particles into the atmosphere for that aurora to have lit up the sky the way it did.

That would have knocked radio, and Gawd only knew what else, out. It also meant that the Air Force couldn’t cover this up with some lame excuse like weather balloons or one of the others they had used over the years.

Unfortunately, that probably meant they would go to plan “B”, blame someone else. Someone like her and Maggie who were already on ULTIMATE’s crap list. From what Maggie had told her, their secret identities were probably trashed anyways. Not only hers as Maggie Carson, but both of Val’s as well.

Sighing, the slim woman shrugged. She had always been rather proud of her Valentina Zarya Savitskaya identity. Valentina Tereshkova had been the first woman in space and it had tickled Val pink when she had been adopted by Papa Savitskiy, seeing how he shared the same name as second woman in space, Svetlana Savitskaya. Besides, who would have expected an ex-member of an American national supra-team to run away to the USSR?

Since the USSR had been their expected enemy back in the Cold War days, General Lafitte had all of the Rocketeers tutored in Russian language and culture, just like the Air Force had taught them other stuff like lock-picking and sleight of hand. When she’d discovered that she not only could become the girl she had always dreamed of, but also could choose what powers she had in that form, The Soviet Union had seemed the perfect place to hide from agents of the US Government. However, even though she had repressed all of her talents and abilities, she’d still been singled out as a mutant.

A low powered one, but one of the ‘special’ ones just the same. The USSR, never one to throw away any resource, sent her to their secret mutant city. Val had wondered if she would have to go on the run again, until she had been adopted by Papa and Mama Savitskiy.

The couple already had a large brood of their own and had opened their hearts to the amnesiac girl Val had pretended to be. The family of circus illusionists and magicians hadn’t been fooled by her act for long, but had said nothing, letting their love for her speak for itself. What had begun as subterfuge had instead become her reality, and she’d found herself returning that love. At long last she had a loving family.

As imperiously as a visiting emperor, Pyotr the Great and his entourage arrived at Area 61. Val didn’t have any idea of how he came to be here; right now, at this very moment, she had never been so glad to see him. She had the great pleasure of startling them all when she ran up and hugged her foster big brother with all of her heart.

Inspector Imbert gave the four guards at the gate an amused snort. Unable to communicate with anyone at all they were adamantly keeping him and his rescue party from entering. He really couldn’t blame them because that was their duty.

However their faces were a study after he pointed out that if an above ground nuclear test had been scheduled, they most certainly would have been notified ahead of time. Not mentioning that the last atmospheric test had been almost 30 years ago, as well as such explosions being banned by international treaties.

Not knowing just what the UHAB's orders were, he’d wanted to make sure no one thought he and his little group were trying to invade. Besides, Philippe didn’t get as old as he was by charging into nuclear explosions.

Lighting his pipe, he was content to wait.

Val stepped back to see who her brother had brought with him. She recognized them all. They were all part of Zolotoye-Yablochko’s militia, and each and every one of them were tough customers. She had to smile seeing the tough little Kazakh, Arghun, with them, but that didn’t answer why they were here.

“I’m happy to see you, Pyotr, but why are you here? And you even brought Arghun with you. I didn’t think after the last time you dragged him along with you on one of your road trips that you would ever be able to talk him into another one.”

The small dark Kazhk muttered, “He told me we were going to visit you, and play in the sand. I thought he meant the beach! I should’ve known better,” he said, kicking at the glassy heat fused and cracked ground.

Her brother cleared his throat. “Papa sent me to bring you home. He was under the impression that you had been arrested. Naturally we expected that you needed rescuing, and so I brought some friends to help. Unofficial friends,” he said, making clear this was Pyotr her brother here, and not Pyotr the Great, the Colonel.

“We saw Margaret on our way in, and who I assume was your old friend, flying in that saucer, from your previous time here, so if you’ll get them we can leave. I would rather not face any official scrutiny,” Pyotr told her in a no nonsense tone.

That hadn’t worked when they were teenagers, she sighed, and wouldn’t work now. Despite his effort to keep his face stony, he winced as she began. “Pyotr, there are a few complications. First, Gus Glenn is alive, but to make a long story short, is badly injured. Next it’s not just me, Maggie, and Ollie. There are 6 children involved who were all but kidnapped from their homes.”

Pausing for breath, she saw that Pyotr’s expression had turned into a painful one, as she continued. “And I made a promise to a dying man that I would look after his kids as well, whom at least 6 of those are also badly injured.”

Ivan plainly curious asked, “Six? Just how many did he have?”

She answered, “I know 12 of them are still alive, but there might be as many as 29. And you’ll love this part, although the nearest medical is Area 61, with everything that’s happened, there is a chance the bureaucrats, to cover their asses, will set off the base’s nuclear self-destruct.

“So I’m not going anywhere until Gus and the injured kids can be moved. Even then we’ll need an aircraft set up as an ambulance.” Looking hopefully at her brother. “I don’t suppose you brought one with you?”

Pyotr’s expression was definitely pained now. “As a matter of fact I did, but that is going to be a problem. We have arranged for a Kusbegi for our extraction. As you remember, they are configured much as the American’s SAR, Search Air Rescue, aircraft, so they do have medical facilities. Handling so many would stretch their resources but it could be done. It’s set to meet us at our rally point sometime in the next hour. Someone will have to meet it and guide it here since I’m assuming the wounded can’t be moved far.

“But that’s the problem. It being seen here will be proof our little nation was involved in all of this somehow. That is not a good thing Valentina!” her brother scolded.

“We already have more than our share of adversaries. The United States have cities that are bigger than our entire country! We don’t need them as enemies. Additionally, ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade has been exercising nearby. There just isn’t time!” her brother explained.

Knowing he was right, Val hanged her head. She loved her foster brother, and didn’t want to get him mixed up in this mess. The political fluster-cluck this could turn into because of his involvement was something she didn’t want either.

“Pyotr,” she said. “This is a personal matter, but I don’t deny the likely political fallout from it. I am the adopted daughter of a head of state. To make things worse, I’ve been committing criminal acts here for over two decades. It doesn’t matter that those laws needed to be broken, but the plain truth is, I had planned with premeditation to do so even before returning to the land of my birth. Just by coming home I’ll be causing a problem for our country, but it is and was the right thing to do.

“I didn’t know ULTIMATE was involved too, but seeing how everything has gone wrong, why should I be surprised.

“I can not go with you, but I know you won’t leave me either. If bringing the Kusbegi here will cause that much trouble than another way needs to be found,” she said, crossing her arms.

Her brother’s companions look decidedly uncomfortable witnessing their family argument.

But as he had pointed out, Pyotr was an experienced military commander and knew when to cut his losses. His stone face softened into a sigh. “Val are you absolutely certain about this?” he asked her.

Val spoke softly as she nodded. “Yes. Despite the risks, it’s the right thing to do.”

Pyotr return her nod with an expressive Slavic shrug. Decisively he ordered, “Arghun, you know this terrain better than any of us. Find the closest point we can bring the Kusbegi in and then head to the rendezvous. Let them know what is going on and then contact us when you have them at the new LZ”

Then turning back to her, Pyotr smiled. “Until then, Valentina, it would seem we are at your disposal seeing how you’re the commander on site.”

Val sighed again. “Unofficially of course.” Unlike the traditional Russian military, their militia had been patterned on Spetnaz and other Special Forces units. Unless she was obviously over her head, the commander on the scene stayed in charge because she best knew the local situation even if someone more senior arrived.

Pyotr kept smiling. “Of course.”

She nodded, taking a deep dive into Slow-Time, considering how Pyotr could best help. He and all of his people were dressed in the concealing black battle dress uniforms with balaclavas favored by Special ops units world wide so there wasn’t anything obviously pointing back to Zolotoye-Yablochko. They were all even carrying weapons as part of their disguise. Not that most of them needed one, least of all Pyotr.

Letting the rest of the world speed back up she clicked her HUD, and was glad to see Maggie’s design let her equipment talk to Pyotr’s. She pointed out where the injured American snipers were. “There’re wounded American soldiers here at these coordinates. If you can transport them here to the waiting medics, as well as keep watch for more incoming trouble, that will be a great help.”

Her brother nodded as he studied the map. Seconds later his people were busy as he set them their tasks. “I do hope you know what you’re doing.”

Val feeling the additional responsibility settle upon her replied, “So do I Pyotr. So do I.”

To be Continued.

Chapter 51

SRT-One approaching Area 61

       Sapphira kept a close eye on the in-flight repair she’d had to make after that last EM pulse. Despite the manufacturer’s guarantee that all the critical components were shielded versus EMP, one failed. To be fair, she didn’t think they were thinking about multiple exposures, but in any case she was able to jury-rig a repair.

       The good news was that almost twenty minutes had passed since the last high energy event. Above them the aurora was fading and that lightning barrage had spent itself. That was a really good sign that perhaps the worst was over.

       The bad news was, they were now of course behind schedule. An irate Major Thomas was breathing down her neck because of it. Unfortunately, the malfunction she planned for his aircraft had to be aborted, because of that shockwave and the EMP that damaged one of their V-22’s for real. Unfortunately it was the wrong one. Getting them back in the air had thrown off her plans and now the UHAB was too close behind them to risk making a run for it. So rather than hijacking their own transport and heading south of the border, they were stuck carrying out this forlorn hope of a mission after all.

        That created another problem. Like all of his ilk, Major Thomas seemed to think he knew more about tactical operations from his time behind a desk than the ones with their boots in the muck. She’d overruled his demand that they go in low and fast. This was a recon and rescue mission, not an assault, or at least that had been what she’d been told. In any case, she didn’t want the US Air Force, whose airspace they were violating, to get trigger happy. Besides, Sapphira wanted to get a good look before getting closer, considering her insider information from Inspector Imbert.

       Their V-22 aircraft possessed an excellent sensor suite, and she meant to make use of it. Multi-tasking as they approached, she used her powered armor systems to tap into that system.

       The still smoking crater where that nuclear device detonated loomed in front of them, clearly visible. Sapphira still didn’t know just exactly what kind of explosion that had been, since it lacked most of the radiation one expected of an atomic bomb. What she did know was she didn’t want to be anywhere nearby if it happened again. Scanning the area, she found a cluster of vehicles and personnel nearby. From what she could see, they were rescue vehicles and were busy with recovering their wounded.

       The crew chief gave her the thumbs down, that so far their communications request had gone unanswered. She shrugged, unsurprised. Whatever had hit this place knocked out power and services to the entire region. It wasn’t news that these people at ground zero were hit harder than the rest of the area. Giving that huge crater another glance, 'a lot harder,' she thought to herself.

       However, they were picking up the pieces down there, that in itself suggested that whatever happened was over. The good guys had won, or at least driven off their attackers. But not without casualties, she sighed, looking at the flashing lights of the military field ambulances.

       Sapphira was about to order their pilot to set them down to offer assistance when Major Thomas abruptly cut her off.

       “There!” he radioed, sending a blurry sensor image of two women dressed in black. “Do you see them? Those are the felons Kali and Tech-Witch! Arrest them immediately!” he demanded.

       She shrugged at the chief who had made a rather nasty gesture at their handler’s command. It seemed the Inspector had been correct yet again, and true to their MO, the two ‘felonious’ mutants were aiding mutants in trouble.

       She wondered if it was worth it to point out this was an American military installation and under Federal jurisdiction. By the terms of ULTIMATE’s charter with the United States, they had no power to conduct arrests without the accompaniment of US Marshals in these circumstances.

       However, what she could do was take Major Thomas temporarily out of the loop. “SRT One acknowledges,” Sapphira replied. “One to pilot! We’re deploying,” she said, gesturing to Bernado.

       Her second in command got the rest of their team ready to exit. By the time the V-22’s ramp lowered they were ready. A quick double check, and they dove off out their A/C. Sapphira as jumpmaster, waited a scant second to make sure all was well, before she too stepped off the ramp.

       Her suit’s jets roaring, she joined her team in their plummet to earth.

       Val watched as Ollie kept the Buggy in a watchful hover over the convoy of ambulances racing back to the medical facilities at Area 61. Alright, Gus and the kids were on their way to the hospital, and Maggie was going along to keep the docs honest. Josh and Malik had attached themselves as her body guards which didn’t bother Val at all. Between those two they had the brain and brawn angle covered.

       Amanda, Malak, and Billie had stayed topside with Lizzie. The six year old was far too young to be mixed up in this stuff. Val hoped all of tonight’s events hadn’t ensured the young girl a string of therapists in her future.

       A quick trip to the hanger area confirmed her suspicions the aircraft there weren’t usable. There was a certain point, that if you were too close, that no amount of shielding helped. The one plane that had suitable seating, medical facilities and range to take everyone out had all of its electronics melted down.

       It was up to Pyotr and his people now. The Kusbegi was exactly what she needed, but Val didn’t want her home at war with the good old USA any more than her brother did. She started thinking of just how they could manage the impossible.

       She didn’t doubt trying to use another vehicle as an intermediary, and transfering everyone from one to the other, would increase the jeopardy Max’s kids and Gus were already in. Okay, so how to get in close? Most of the electronics were out, and that just left the people. Just chase everyone away from the LZ perhaps, but all that had to go wrong was for them to miss just one person. Maybe if Josh used his power to mislead or hide the Kusbegi’s origins. He could blanket the whole area and … That was as far as she got before Bob, one of Pyotr's people warned, “Inbound. Two V-22s from the southeast at 4000 meters.”

         Recognizing Bob the intell expert and brick as one of those she and Maggie had rescued, Val asked, “ID?” At that height, someone was giving them the look over, but it could be the Air Force, ULTIMATE, or several others that operated the tilt-rotor. Which one, would tell a lot about the flavor of trouble heading their way.

       A heartbeat later, she was standing by his side as he observed their visitors. “Lead ship’s ramp is coming down. Looks like, yeah. We’ve got jumpers,” he reported.

       Looking up, Val couldn’t see much even with her visor. Visibility was still wonky with the fading radiance of the aurora, and the on coming dawn. Bob’s equipment was bulkier, but specialized for this kind of thing. She supposed that was a good thing about him having super strength because of all the goodies he could bring with him.

       “Five jumpers, plus one.” He paused. “I confirm the aircraft as ULTIMATE’s and jumpers as probably their SRT One.

       Val shook her head. It doesn’t rain that it pours. The Supra-Reaction Teams were ULTIMATE’s supra-heroes but were mostly useless. They were just the bureaucrats attempt to control every mutant they could get their hands on. The effective ones tended to be either real head-cases or just so damn good they could buck the system, teams like SRT One.

       This wasn’t a fight she wanted, since this was one group that was at least trying to do the right thing. “Pyotr we have a situation.”

       Her radio replied, “I’m aware. I’ve dropped off the last of the wounded and am en-route to you.”

       Their visitors were still drifting down when Pyotr landed next to her. “Well, they don’t seem to be in hurry to get down here are they? So what’s the plan?”

       The rest of Pyotr’s people were making their way to them, with the exception of Katrina who was laying out her arsenal of weapons, assembling something that was no doubt long range and deadly.

       Val cleared her throat as she watched Number One’s suit's jets burning bright as she kept pace with her descending team. “They seem to be cautious, so I thought I would try convince them that we have everything under control so they could go home.”

       Her brother grinned back her. “Baffle them with buffalo chips, yes?”

          She struck him lightly on his shoulder. After her secret came out to her adopted family, Pyotr had been mad to learn English while in his Rock music phase. His Americanese slang was as good as hers.

       Well two can play that game. “Da,” she said in a thick Russian accent, “Take this job and shovel it,” as SRT One members landed, taking in their chutes while their power-armor suited leader kept watch from above.

       Well this should be interesting.

Chapter 52

Area 61

       Sapphira landed lightly, letting her suit jets whine down. She had taken the time to carefully examine the area as well as the people waiting for her to land. First her data link with her V-22’s sensors located the one Major Thomas identified as the Tech-Witch. She’d departed with the departing ambulances with the wounded.

       However Kali, if that was she, calmly waited for them. The slim woman matched the general description with her black streamlined full face helmet and uniform, but this one’s suit was of a different design. Instead of a form fitting slick wetsuit-like or the aerodynamic racing suits skaters use, this one had a pattern of thicker material on the limbs and shoulders. However, despite the differences, there was a really good chance that this woman was who Major Thomas thought it was.

       With her were four men and one woman in the all black military uniforms, festooned with gear common to special operation soldiers. They all carried weapons, and appeared to be normal humans, even if two of the men were huge and gave some doubt to that assumption.

       A little farther away were four girls ranging in age from their mid-teens to one who didn’t look more than 6 or 7. They were the only obvious supra-humans here dressed in uniforms that resembled the old Rocketeers’ who were once based here out of Area 61.

       Speaking of which, she also spotted the gaudily painted silver and red saucer that group once used as their team transport vehicle, The Rocket. Its pilot kept the silver saucer down low and mostly hidden but her sensors located it anyway.

       Frankly, the Greek heroine hadn’t decided just what she was going to do. Thinking about it, her orders were to determine what had caused those power disruptions, and to prevent another. Since ULTIMATE seem bound and determined to begin an incident, she was predisposed to throw a wrench into their plans. Well, let’s try diplomacy, she decided, and signaled her team to back her.

       “I’m Number One of ULTIMATE Supra-Response Team One,” she introduced herself. “Earlier tonight, three high energy events disrupted power and communications from Reno to Las Vegas. Two of them were Electro-Magnetic-Pulses, but the other was some kind of nuclear explosion. Perhaps a frizzle with little radiation but still created a fireball and shockwave,” she said, nodding her head at the 200 yard diameter crater nearby. “We’ve been sent to investigate. Since your communications are out, I had no choice, but to violate your no fly zone given the seriousness of the events.”

       The woman in black took off her helmet. Sapphira with her perfect memory immediately recognized her from a series of television ads featuring outdoor activities and feminine hygiene products. Her dark hair and fine features were marked by the helmet’s padding, and she could see evidence of a battle from discoloration and scorch marks on her uniform.

       “I’m Valentina Zarya Savitskaya, one of these children’s instructors. If you look, you’ll see I’m registered in your files as Dixie Belle. Pardon my different uniform, but this one was designed by one of the researchers here, for my use while here.”

       “Since I have the courtesy rank of Captain, and Peter here is only a lieutenant, I must advise you that you’re on a restricted Federal military reservation and ask that you leave ASAP.”

       “On the other hand, you’re right. We did have a little problem tonight. One of our student’s powers ran out of control, and that was unfortunately the cause of those high energy events as you called them. We have regained control now. However things are still hectic. I must ask you again, to leave. Already once tonight we’ve had injuries because of jittery nerves, and mistaken identities. I very much don’t want another. Please tell your superiors to give us some time to sort everything out. I’m sure a statement explaining everything will be made as soon as possible,” the courtesy ranked Captain said.

       Sapphira’s onboard database confirmed Ms. Savitskaya’s identity, if not her instructor status. Her request that they leave was reasonable, and made sense considering that SRT One was trespassing. She’d already decided to burn her bridges tonight. Perhaps, she did have a chance to defuse any more trouble. All the better if she could get her people out of here without a fight. They could then disappear on the way back to Vegas.

       She clicked on her radio to explain the situation to Major Thomas.

       A chance she wasn’t given. “How dare you cut me out!” he raged. “Arrest that woman at once! Find that other one and arrest her too,” he said, sounding as if he was foaming at the mouth.

       Once again she tried talking some sense to him. “We’re on a Federal military reservation, and we have been officially asked to leave. Besides we don’t have an arrest warrant nor the authority.”

       Brazenly, he shouted back over the radio, “I will not stand for this insubordination! If you don‘t carry out my orders ASAP I will activate your team's implants. Yes, yours too. I bet even with that so-called superior intelligence of yours you never knew even your team’s tracking implants had explosive charges,” he said snidely.

       Sapphira’s face went stony. “Major Thomas I really wouldn’t advise that,” she said. “Under the circumstances I can not obey your orders, which are clearly illegal. Threats of deadly force against my team and myself are uncalled for. I can however guarantee that if you try to carry out your threat you will regret it.”

       She hadn’t known that even her implant had been rigged, but that just made her certain her decision, to end her association with ULTIMATE, was the right one. However that also created a problem. Sapphira had thought it a cute touch to relocate all the implants to a rather sensitive area of Major Thomas’s Peacemaker powered armor suit.      

       Two firecracker sized explosives going off down there would be very painful but were probably not crippling or life threatening. Five of them changed the equation significantly.

       “Number One you have 5 seconds to carry out my orders. I’m not bluffing, you bitch!” their handler threatened.

       She simply listened to his countdown while she contacted the pilots of his V-22. “I think the Major is about to activate a function on his armor that is about to malfunction. He’s refused to listen to …”

       “Bam!”

       “Reason,” she continued. “Please inform the UHAB that I have met with representatives from Area 61, and they have informed me the emergency has been contained. The authorities on the ground have given us notice that we must evacuate the area. After you’ve sent that message, please standby while we arrange for a LZ for our V-22 to pick us up.”

       Valentina Savitskaya and the others with her were looking at her expectantly. “It seems our observer has suffered a bizarre armor malfunction that has driven him to believe that you, Ms. Savitskaya, are a wanted felon codenamed Kali. He demanded we arrest you, disregarding the simple fact we have neither the approved warrant nor the necessary accompanying Federal Marshall the treaty requires.

       “Unfortunately the malfunction became severe enough that it finally disabled his armor. I understand that his injuries are not life threatening, but perhaps this incident will motivate him to a more comprehensive pre-operations check of his equipment.

       “Be that as it may, if you would inform me where to direct my pilot, we will get out of your way. We don’t want any misunderstandings as to our intentions,” she concluded.

       It didn’t escape her how still they all got when she mentioned the word arrest.   However since Sapphira had just about had it with ULTIMATE, she really did not care that she was warning a wanted felon that her pursuers were closing in. Besides, seeing how Kali or Athena, as the inspector called her, helped mutants escape to safety, she and her people might very well need that kind of help before this was all over.

       Ms. Savitskaya gave her a mischievous smile. “I would suggest the base airfield. It is a short hike, but your pilot would be less likely to suck any of this glassy residue into a turbine which I’m sure wouldn’t do them any good. Please, under the circumstances, let us escort your team for we don‘t want any misunderstandings either tonight. Or rather should I say this morning?” the Acting Captain said with a tired sideways smile.

       Bernardo gave Sapphira a nod as he got the team moving while she made small talk with their hosts. Up ahead, she could see their V-22 descending for their pickup. Inwardly, she crossed her fingers that they would get away with this. Her powered armored suit could do many things but the simple act of crossing her fingers wasn’t one of them.

       In retrospect, her decision to deploy hadn’t been a good one since it separated them from their aircraft, as much as it let her ignore Major Thomas’s orders. Sapphira sighed. Some things just couldn’t be helped. Besides, it did let her hopefully smooth out the situation here.

       All the warning she had was a short radio message from her pilot. “Sorry Ma’am. We have been ordered to abort retrieval,” he said with sorrow. Their little party was almost to where their V-22 waited, but could only watch as it roared back into the sky without them.

       Anger touched her. 'If he’d really been sorry, the SOB would have ignored that order,' she thought to herself, until a pair of deadly shadows darted over them in a whistling howl. RAH-66 Comanches, stealth armed reconnaissance helicopters, painted in ULTIMATE dark blue. The US had sunk billions into the program for them until deciding they were too expensive and that its needs had changed. ULTIMATE however was only too willing to purchase the swift agile machines, now that someone else had gone to all the work of developing it. Okay, so maybe her pilot did not have a choice after all, with those two making sure their abort order was carried out at gun point.

       Turning to her hosts, who were looking on curiously as events unfolded, she explained, shrugging, “It seems headquarters disagrees with my assessment of the situation.”

       Cursing with a vocabulary learned in 20 years of military service, Colonel Randolph Hodges assessed his options. He had already sent his SPADs high to serve as interceptors and air superiority. The machines were re-engineered booty from the ’96 invasion and were formidable, but not so much in the ground attack role. They were of more use making sure no one came in, and more importantly, to make sure not a single soul got out, to spread the news as to what really was going to happen this morning.

       Damn that mu-taint bitch to hell, he cursed SRT One’s leader. It'd been hoped that their own not-so-tamed mutants would be caught in whatever disaster was going on at Area 61. Not for her to turn around and defect to them! That fool Thomas had evidently blown his own balls off when he’d activated SRT One’s implants. The idiot hadn’t taken precautions against that gene tainted whore pulling a fast one.

       Right. He had gotten his advanced recon elements on the scene fast enough to make damn frakking sure his orders that SRT-One’s V-22 abort their pickup. His pilots reported seeing a nuclear ground burst crater, even if the radiation from it was abnormally low. They also confirmed an individual matching Kali’s description was on site.

       The report on her indicated that he would need the heavier ordnance carried by his dropships to put her down, so engaging with his recon element wouldn’t be wise. Besides that Greek bitch and her team were one of the targets now, and he had just the plan to take them out as well. Better he keep the RAH-66’s back, and have them keep watch for anyone trying to escape.

       Someone at Area 61 liked playing hardball judging from that nuke crater. Well he could play just as tough, and had just the right hammer for the job.

Chapter 53

Area 61’s medical section

       Dr.Courtney Hathaway barely glanced up as the lights flickered again. Triage had rushed another patient in, and she was far too busy to worry about what else was going wrong tonight.

       The young man of 17 had third, bordering on fourth, degree burns across his back. A quick scan with her powers revealed a broken arm as well as a number of minor injuries. His ID revealed him to be Albert-2. She recognized him as one of the clones Saul Simpson made of Joshua Dean.

       Being very familiar with their mental processes, since she'd been the one to reprogram them, she gently touched his pain centers to ease his pain when he eventually awoke. Guiltily, she reminded herself that he wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t programmed him as she'd been ordered. Her loyalty brought her nothing. Dr. McClellan and General Laramie had still pushed her out of the program. Her drive to excel had accomplished nothing but to hurt these kids. Not subjects, nor Project This nor Experiment That Other, just children.

       Maybe it was the only way to stop that creature, but did they even really bother looking for another solution? She really didn’t know whether to hate Alan Glenn’s guts for destroying her illusions or to thank him for opening her eyes. At any rate, her so-call career here was over. After she’d managed to pull her fast one when she’d bypassed the program meant to erase Glenn’s memories, she had been shuffled away to another project, one of little importance and no chance of advancement.

       Courtney was certain her sabotage hadn’t been discovered, but that the move was simply a way of getting her out of the way. She had to volunteer, of all things, just to make sure she was here when the big event went down. Normally the Air Force doctors and medical staff would be alone in handling tonight’s crisis, but knowing something bad was coming, they were willing to accept help from the civilian staff. She, with her mutant talents and her education, made one hell of trauma surgeon, as Dr. Sinclair, the head military medical doctor, told her.

       Working quickly, she set the bones with her telekinesis, while her hands prepped his burn areas for the application of the synthetic skin that would protect and speed the healing of the damaged tissue. In time, it would be absorbed by the new skin. It was an advance that’d been developed here and a reminder that not everything that came from this hole was amoral.

       She’d just carefully positioned the syn-skin when a disturbance caught her attention. A quick PSI scan told her that all of Hydra Team Two was being treated, and although hurt badly, they should recover. Courtney left the rest of the procedure to the nurses while she investigated this newest problem.

       Pushing her way through the curtains, she found a tall woman, dressed in black assault-like gear that was bulging in pockets and equipment, arguing loudly with Doctor Sinclair. A pair of MPs was standing nearby, but what caught her attention was the wounded man on the gurney.

       He wasn’t any older than young Albert, about 17, but while he’d been hurt in that explosion topside, this patient was injured by shrapnel. Her ESPER senses told her that although there were seven entry points, the razor bits of metal had continued to fragment after they had struck. In addition to the one he’d taken to the head, there was internal bleeding and one lung was near collapse.

       “Dr. Sinclair what’s going on out here?” she demanded, adding her old bitchiness to her tone as she hurried to the wounded teen.

       Grateful for the interruption, he turned to her. “This woman is demanding care for this man, but triage has determined that he is simply too torn up inside. Better we help those we can.”

       It was true that the facility was being overwhelmed with injuries that had hit down here and topside. While the Hydra Team had been more badly injured, they certainly weren’t the only ones needing help. However Courtney’s talent told her something else about this problem.

       It was in his eyes. Looking behind them with her powers, she learned the truth. Dr. Sinclair had been briefed that if this man was brought in here, he was to make sure the young patient never left. Unable to make himself simply kill the patient with an injection, the military doctor was rather relieved that the badly wounded young man would simply die of his injuries if unattended.

       Courtney knew this doctor was just another victim of the General and the Doctor’s ruthlessness and insistence on having Yes-Men here. As their eyes met, and he saw that she could see the truth, the Air Force surgeon dropped his gaze in shame.

       The woman hotly demanded, “Is someone going to help him or are you all just going to watch him die!”

       Courtney replied, as she quickly examined her newest patient, “I have just finished with Albert, and the rest of Hydra is stabilizing.” She sent a suggestion to him that he needed to make sure of the Hydra team’s condition.

       “If you can spare a nurse, I’ll handle this one, Doctor,” she said to him.

       Thankful to be let off the hook, he turned to say something but the woman in black interrupted, “I’m a trained medic. I’ll assist.”

       Raising an eyebrow, Courtney amended her request. “I need a trauma cart STAT!” All the entry points had been treated very quickly after the trauma, so there had been little external bleeding, but the material used on his uniform was something very different from what was usually employed by the military.

       Getting her first real look at the clothing he was wearing, it hit her. This was him, the Creature, Gus Glenn. Pushing past her shock, she looked at the woman in black for help. “We need something to cut this material. The normal shears and cutters won’t work, but he's shredded badly internally.”

       She was about to warn the woman that she was going go use her TK to lift him while they stripped the decades old bulletproof Rocketeer costume off, when to her amazement a device assembled itself from parts flying about madly until they suddenly all clicked together.

       “Call me Techie,” the woman said, as she ran the devise across the tough uniform‘s surface.

       The material parted as if cut by a knife which Courtney knew was flat out impossible. The metal-weave, reinforced Kevlar might be 30 years out of date but still was tough stuff.

       Techie smiled. “Sonics. I’ve adjusted the depth to disrupt only the fabric. Always admired that English doctor fellow with the nifty screwdriver. What’s next Doctor?”   Techie asked, as they cleared the uniform away.

       Courtney didn’t look up as someone pushed a trauma cart over. “Right, let’s get to it.” They had a life to save.

  

       Arghun Bagudur, son of the windswept steppes, ran at a pace the swiftest horses couldn’t match and one that no land-bound machine would dare over the broken ground. He’d stripped off everything except what he absolutely needed. This was a race that he would not lose. Too much was at stake.

       Years ago when he first showed up at that lovely valley, so full of blossoms of ancient apple trees, that the Russians were so intent on turning into a city, he'd been alone for so very long. For ages he’d spent his life away from others. He was just too different. Sooner or later suspicions would grow, and after that, hate came on its heels.

       For some, it was envy of his long life and youth, while for others it was fear and superstition. The result was always the same. With a ferocious longing, he missed the camaraderie of his fellow warriors who'd long since turned to dust.

       And so he spent his time as a hermit until that night when he dreamed true. It didn’t happen often but when it did he listened. This one told of a marvelous city to come. One of mighty warriors, but more importantly, one where perhaps even one such as he might find acceptance.

       A city that would be founded in the valley of the grandfather of all apples.

       His sharp ears heard the first roars, but he slackened his pace not at all. It was easy to alter his path just enough to most hide him from the sensors he knew aircraft like these carried.

       Looking up, wave after wave of armed aircraft thundered overhead. Counting his enemies as he did ages before, from horseback with a bow in his hand, his determination grew. There were sixty of the dropships, and within them rode hundreds of armored foes.

       Pushing himself even harder he ran to the rendezvous. Never would he return to that hellish loneliness of being a tribe of one. He would not fail his companions.

Chapter 54
Area 61

       Val shivered as her Luck chanted softly. The ULTIMATE helos had backed off, but her Luck’s low ominous tone told of something nearly as bad as Kiloton. Seeing how their involuntary guests from SRT-One had warned them of ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade thundering down upon them, it wasn’t hard to guess at the nature of the trouble.

       She sighed heavily. It seemed they weren’t going to get a break today. The blue suited ULTIMATE man on the street didn’t have a very good reputation for being kind to those he was charged with looking after. Everyone called them the Mutant Cops and it wasn’t meant in a good way.

       During the time she and Maggie fought their covert war, Val found a few of those 'cops' that were truly devoted to making a positive difference. They however were the exceptions, and as time passed, it seemed more and more were nothing more than thugs and bullies. Nowhere was that more true than the UHAB.

       In theory, these were the troops that were sent in after supervillain bases and other hard targets. In truth, while they were sometimes used for such, normally these so-called elite troops were nothing more than Brown-Shirts and Sturmtruppen. She guessed you had to be a student of history to appreciate the difference between soldiers and thugs. The UHAB just ‘happened’ to recruit the most mutant intolerant and bigoted asses into their ranks.

       Her brother Gus and the others who couldn’t be moved, were only some of those she now found herself responsible for because of promises and love. But of course the one group in the whole world that she most considered her enemy would come gunning for her. To make matters worse, her adopted brother and companions were here now dragging even more into danger.

       Time to make the best of it. “Ollie how are communications?”

       The Gray sent back to her, “Short range comms were and are still unaffected. Anything that is not line of sight is still out. Solar activity was very high prior to Kiloton’s breakout and perhaps even played a part in the early collapse of Project Looking Glass. In any case, we are not talking to anyone until after sunrise.”

       “Just great!” Val muttered sarcastically. “Ollie, I'm getting a really bad feeling here. ULTIMATE just marooned one of their supra-teams here after they refused to illegally arrest me. Added to that, their HAB is heading here, armed for bear and we can’t tell anyone about it.”

       Turning to Pyotr she asked, “Does that about sum it up?”

       Grimly her brother nodded. “That about does it. You do realize that if they are planning on what you think they are, that they will have to kill everyone, including all of the base’s personnel?”

       Bob the intelligence expert spoke up, “As well as making sure no one dares come in to investigate with modern forensics. Probably will seed a radiological or perhaps a biological agent to contaminate the area for years.”

       Looking at her, the big man asked incredulously, “I hope you’re not planning on fighting? The UHAB is primarily an air assault unit, but even with its lack of armored vehicles, it makes up for the lack in having over 100 aircraft in its TO&E. Every last one of them is armed, with two thirds being dropships carrying 10 power armor suits apiece. If that wasn’t enough, they also have a sizable number of refitted alien air to space interceptors that are well able to engage our Kusbegi pickup aircraft.”

       Shaking his head, he finished, “Those are long odds for a half dozen of us and some kids.”       

       “That’s a dozen,” The golden armored leader of SRT-One spoke. “We,” she said, waving her armored gauntlet including her teammates, “find ourselves suffering a change of loyalties.”

       Everyone looked at the recently abandoned SRT-One, seeing nothing but resolve in all of their eyes.

       Bob took a deep breath. “Alright a dozen, but those are still odds no bookie would ever touch. I know you have your reasons, but sometimes you have to cut your losses!”

       Her green eyes looked into his but they were as hard as steel. “Never tell me the odds are against me!”

       Pyotr winced next to her, just knowing she was going to say that.

       Val ordered her friend, “Ollie you need to get the Buggy out of here. Peter here can give you the coordinates and codes to get you to sanctuary. You should have room to cram the kids in there too.”

       “No,” said a voice at his shoulder. All the girls stood there, Amanda, Malak, Billie and Lizzie.

       “You’re trying to protect us again,” Amanda said, her arms across her chest. “Stop sending us away! We care about you, and don’t want to see you hurt. Maybe we’re kids, but we aren’t just kids. If it weren’t for us, you never would’ve put Kiloton down.”

       Val gave the teens a considering look. “And what about Lizzie? Do you really want her in the middle of what is coming? ULTIMATE may be bullies, but they have a lot of experience dealing with people like us. Even she may not be safe.”

       The three older girls gave the six year old a stare, and then laughed. “She was bad enough before she got zapped. Lizzie is a lot tougher and stronger now, aren’t you girl?” she asked her.

       Looking up at the circle of adults, Lizzie said solemnly, “Don’t worry I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

       Peter and Number One’s people were amused at the little girl‘s solemn pledge, but Val was wondering. The force screen she'd inherited from that clone of little Lizzie had been at her pre-zapped power levels. That had been good enough to protect her from being way too close to a nuclear fireball. Doc’s ray gun usually upped ones powers by a couple times, so maybe the girls had a point.

       Billie spoke up. “Besides where could we go that they wouldn’t eventually show up anyways? The only difference would be that you wouldn’t be there.“

       Amanda joined her. “Ever since I changed, everyone has threaten me with ULTIMATE even though I never did anything wrong. When I tried to defend myself from those that used to call themselves my friends, I was the one who got in trouble, not the ones that started it. If they want me, they can come get me. Besides you said they were flying.”

       With the air swirling around her playing with her hair, she grinned. “I’m really good with things in the air.”

       Val sighed again. “Peter would you mind having one of your people explain Density Altitude to Amanda. Better warn everyone what's going to happen too.”

       “Ok Ollie, new plan. Everyone stays unless any of Peter’s people wants to go. Bob?” she asked.

       The big man shrugged unhappily. “I still don’t think it is a very good idea, but I’m not leaving. Besides, I suppose it’s better to face down the UHAB here, where we might see help from the US military, rather than at home all by our lonesome. If we don’t get caught in the middle, this could backfire spectacularly in their faces.”

       Val grinned at him. “Good! Why don’t you make sure that you record the whole thing with whatever gizmos you’ve got there to make sure of that backfire you‘re talking about.”

       Number One from the SRT added, “I might be able to help with that since I have a recording of everything that has happened so far.”

       Turning to face her, the ULTIMATE supra said, “Since my team is now in the middle of this too, perhaps it would be best to let us have an area to defend since we are accustomed to working together?”

       Val looking over the team nodded. “Why don’t you defend the perimeter around the elevator shafts and I’ll have Peter and his people cover you since his team has more long range capability than your group. The girls will be at the center doing their stuff and will be our reserves.”

       Turning back to Amanda. “I want you all at the elevators, and you need to let Josh and Malik know what is going on.”

       Grinning again, Val said, “Since Josh already has an understanding with security, have him explain to them what is going on. If he has any questions, have him go through Ollie, who will be our coordinator.”

       She spoke to him, “That cool with you my friend?”

       The Gray acknowledged, “Yes Val. Just like old times with the Rocketeers.”

       A voice came over the radio that she recognized as the voder device that let the telepathic, though mute, alien speak aloud. “Okay Val. Should not we go to code names with battle in the offering? If so, what is yours?”

       Val closed her eyes and breathed in deep. Opening them with a smile she replied, “Why Ollie, is there any other one for me? Captain Vroom of course! Now open a comm line. I want to have a word with our unwanted guests.”

         The five men squad moved quickly into position. They'd already completed their primary mission of taking out the last of three secure landlines leading into the base. Those were supposed to be Top Secret but poor security on the part of the contractor gave them the plans and locations. Then all it took was the proper application of explosives and Voila! No more problem!

       The point man spotted the swiftly running figure who could only be a mutant. Just as they'd been trained, they set up an ambush. That was their secondary mission. To help eliminate any runners the primary assault missed.

       With an experienced eye, the leader waited for just the right time to spring their trap. They needed to do this right the first time. Unlike the rest of their brethren in the UHAB, the recondo/scout teams didn't wear power-armor. Those suits might give one man the power of a light tank, but the damn things were impossible to move in as stealthily as the teams missions required.  

       Just as men had fought for thousands of years they wore little in the way of protection, depending upon their cunning and skills to stay alive. However when hunting mutants who were often full of unpleasant surprises, putting them down with the first shot was of the utmost importance.

       Arghun snorted in disgust. He hadn’t any time to waste and this ambush was so amateurish that any of his ancestors would be ashamed of him running headlong into it. Well, he was in a hurry. Now what could an unarmed man do against five soldiers?

       Slipping into an almost light trance state, he felt time itself shiver as it slowed. As with all talented students, the teacher learns as much as the one they instruct. Being the mentor of young Valentina was precisely that way. He passed on centuries of refined mayhem, while she taught this most valuable gift, time. The one thing there was never enough of but couldn't be bartered or sold. In this case, only given.

The first sizzling blast missed, passing behind him as he lunged forward. The next two shots were high as Arghun spent his velocity in a bruising but controlled tumbling roll. A quick forceful slap of the sun baked hard ground sent him cartwheeling backwards towards his assailants. Pocks of sandy earth bit at him as a more conventional light machine gun tried to follow his erratic path.
  
       Throwing himself flat, he grabbed for the boots of the man Arghun picked out as the leader, another crackling blast flew over him. In a move few would believe, the agile Mongolian lifted himself into a headstand, whipping his feet around the squad leaders head. A lightning sit-up had him sitting on the startled man's shoulders. Overbalanced, the man fell backwards. A twist of Arghun's hips was rewarded with a sharp crack as his involuntary vaulting horse’s neck broke.

       Back on his feet, he threw the combat knife he'd freed from his victim. Hilt first, it smashed into the goggled protected eyes of the man who'd hesitated firing for fear of hitting his comrade. Arghun, knowing his odds were slim of finding a vulnerable spot for the knife chose to cause his target to flinch. That gave him time to close and attack with a fury of blows.  

  The trooper's regular impact 3DO-like impact protecting armor absorbed all the power of the strikes by becoming hard and solid. Unable to move for just a second, it left him open for a classic nose, heel strike causing instant death.

       Twisting the corpse around as cover, Arghun slipped his hand over its gloved  weapon's hand. All of ULTIMATE's agents used identity locked features on their high tech toys to keep them from being used against them. Squeezing the dead man's trigger finger, a long burst of glowing fire blasted the group's light machine gunner.

Two blazing shots struck Arghun's makeshift shield. Pushing it forward at the last pair, he threw the grenade he'd taken from it as he turned. They never noticed that the pin was still safely unpulled

As trained they drove for cover, giving him the priceless instant to charge upon them. Gathering his chi, Arghun released it in massive blow to the man on his left.  His goggles shattered, the body fell.

         Fire lanced up from the last soldier as Arghun danced aside. Burning pain slashed his side, but that didn't stop him from scooping up that grenade. This time he pulled the pin tossing it lightly under handed at the cover his opponent scurried for.   

         Then it was his turn to seek protection as he rolled, pulling the nearby corpse next to him. He was up and running the moment after the explosion, but his additional precaution wasn't needed.

They were all dead like so many others he'd fought over the long years.  

         Tearing open one of their first aid kits he treated his wound as quickly as he could. At least these weapons cauterized rather than tear and rip. Pushing the pain away, he looked up, checking the early dawn sky to re-find his path. This would not be the first time he'd to race time itself hurt and wounded.  

         It might be the first time, however, that so much depended on him not failing. Focusing his will, he began to run. Behind him, five men laid still, their bodies cooling upon the sands.

Chapter 55

       Sapphira Heron walked with this Lt. Peters to the low buildings that housed the elevators going down to Area 61. She and Bob, no last name, had set up three concealed and shielded stations. Even in the event of a worst-case scenario, they would beam out all the data she and the big intelligence specialist had gathered and recorded.

One of the three was data linked to her power armor, letting her feed constant updates so that all of what was going to happen this morning would be saved. Their part of this mess would survive them and would be told.

She could see the larger buildings had suffered damage from the nearby battle and nuke. However even though they were used, were just decoys. The real entrances to the underground complex were the group of smaller sheds housing the elevators going down.

       “May I ask what kind of help your people will be able to provide?” she asked the tall man in black.

       Smiling like he had a big secret, the tall man replied, “My sister and her sense of humor. I do suppose that she really didn’t lie, but she certainly didn’t tell the whole truth.”

       Sapphira had gotten good at spotting body language clues in conversations, since while armored up, her face was concealed. Cocking her head she asked, “Your sister?”

       He shrugged. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Col. Pyotr Savitskiy. I’m here to retrieve my errant sister.”

       A quick query to her onboard data bank and it all became clear. “The Kusbegi you mentioned earlier. You’re from Zolotoye-Yablochko. Then the name he gave struck her. “You’re Peter the Great?”

       Now grinning, he stopped for a moment to wave his people to their positions. “And you’re Sapphira Heron of Greece, sometimes known as Hoplite, or the Golden Amazon.” Tilting his head, he added, chuckling, “I read the papers. Such trash, oh but the turn of phrase they sometimes use to sell their rags.”

       She blushed, thankful for once her helmet hid her face. Although ULTIMATE denied them codenames, that didn’t matter for the newspapers who often named them anyways. The bureaucrats did get upset when it happened and of course did what bureaucrats did when angry, generate paperwork. The papers would print retractions, but she often thought the newsies got a certain pleasure from tweaking them. (“We apologize for calling the Golden Amazon, ‘The Golden Amazon’ and we regret using the code name ‘Hoplite’ for the super known as Hoplite.”)

       Mistaking her silence, Peter continued, “Don’t worry. My team is very good, and we will cover you as best as we are able.” Finished, he turned and headed for his own position.

       It’d been many years since a male had gotten her flustered, but she shook it off. Their very survival was at stake. It was time to get to work and maybe afterwards she would find out if Peter had prior commitments.

       Mapping out the terrain, she picked the best locations for her people. Number Five, Joachim, their strongman, she put near the blasted remains of that one elevator because the debris gave him plenty of things to throw.

       Placing herself in the center, she put Number Two, Bernardo, on her right since his ranged attacks were limited to his sidearms. The twin pistols she’d designed for him were anything but standard sidearms. However when compared to a dropship’s heavy firepower, he definitely came out second best.

       Number Three,Robert, she put on her left. His abilities controlling sound and vibrations could wreak unholy havoc on machines. Useful as well was his talent of shifting out of phase which let him not only walk through walls, but let most lethal attacks pass right through him without harm.

       Lastly, Number Four, Mariko, she had behind her. The density changer didn’t have much in the way of range talents, but in close she was deadly. Last year's fight with the Chevaliers had revealed her vulnerability to electrical attacks because of her body’s high gold content. An insulated bodysuit Sapphira had designed for her should lessen that weakness.

       What was going to be the worst part of this battle was that ULTIMATE knew all of their Achilles’ Heels. Then she gave a grim smile hidden by her helm. If those goat-humpers were thinking this was going to be easy, they had another thing coming. Very deliberately she cut out all of her safeties. For the very first time, her creation was going to be at lethal full power.

       “Well dear friends, shall we show these elite soldiers what a warrior can do?” she asked her team that was as much her family as those of her blood back in Greece.

       A round of growls and ayes answered her. Bernardo’s “Come get some!” got muttered laughs.

       Amanda took a deep breath as the woman who had introduced herself as Katrina jogged back to her comrades. Lizzie, Malak, and Billie were crouched down behind one of the elevator shaft buildings. Malak was getting ready to put up her magnetic screen while Billie was going to be her wing. While the girl was concentrating on her screen, Billie would be watching, keeping her from harm. Lizzie would be doing the same thing for her.

       But Amanda wouldn’t be doing anything like just putting up a screen or making the wind change direction. No. She was going to make this dry cool early morning in the Mohave, hot, windy and wet. Katrina explained to her that hot and humid weather simulates a much higher altitude.

       If she could do this, she could make it much harder for the people coming after them to maneuver their planes and helicopters. The problem was she'd never tried anything so, well, big. Making a breeze, or lowering the temperature was easy, but making it hotter and dragging in moisture from somewhere else?

       This was a desert, and although it got unbearably hot during the day, all that heat went away during the night. Even during the summer it was cold after the sun went down, plus in their fight with Kiloton, she had drawn off even more energy from the area, making it really cold so Malak‘s magnetic screen could work better. On the other hand, she knew that there was water here from the Geode. It might be deep underground, but it was here.

       “Alright,” she spoke to those breezes swirling about that had bedeviled her since she’d had changed. “Let’s do this.”

       Closing her eyes, she reached out with that part of herself that always seemed synced with the weather. 'Or maybe it was the local weather being in tune with her,' she thought. Before getting zapped by that Z-ray thing, as Billie called it, she could sorta like see the energy of the weather about her in a more or less local area. The flow of temperatures and pressures interacted in a wild shifting whirling dance. Afterwards she could see them much farther away. Being under the sky, and not covered by miles of rock, she was just starting to realize just how far she could see.

       Her self-paced classes concentrated on giving her all the meteorological lessons she could stand. The simulators taught her that if she made a change in the weather here, somewhere else would also be affected, and maybe not in a good way. So perhaps she needed to find something bad that was happening somewhere else and use that. Following those flowing aerial rivers of power, she found a ravening knot of twisting energy. “That’ll do,” she thought, and reached for it.

National Weather Service, National Hurricane Center

       Paul Blankenship almost dropped his beloved stained coffee mug. They'd been tracking Hurricane Kyle as it headed up the US east coast, but happily it'd dropped down to a tropical storm before making landfall in Canada. That storm worried the suits, but luck was with them. It’d missed the big population centers. However the potential for disaster kept everyone on red alert.

       It being a very active hurricane season, another one, Tropical Storm Laura, popped up on Kyle’s heels in the mid Atlantic. With the staff worn and stressed out, Paul was the one picked to watch this storm, but it looked like Laura would just meander around in the middle of the ocean for a bit before dissipating.

       What they did not do was drop so suddenly in strength you could see the damn thing disappearing!

       Staring at his area of responsibility, and tired from the non-stop stress, he could be excused for not noticing how the people on the other side of the house were freaking out over the extreme system that'd came out of nowhere over the western state of Nevada.

Chapter 56
Area 61

       “Val,” Ollie asked using his voder. “Are you sure this a good idea?”

       She was floating about 10’ off the ground with her suit’s lights on. They didn’t provide a whole lot of illumination, but they did make her stand out, which of course was the point. With the addition of that Maxi-Lizzie’s powers she was probably the single toughest person out here.

       The UHAB flotilla of combat aircraft depended on expendable munitions for their heaviest punch. Each one she made them waste on her was one less to fire at her more vulnerable companions. With Kiloton and his speed of light blasts, it was his targeting that'd been his weakness. Conventional weapons were almost exactly the opposite. Targeting was computer controlled accurate but the bullets, rockets, and missiles were only supersonic, or in some rare cases, hypersonic. Against those, her own supra-speed gave her a tremendous advantage and she meant to use every trick she’d learned in the thirty-plus years in this business.

       “Ollie my friend I’ve never been surer,” Val told him over voice, wanting everyone to hear her confidence. “I just wish I could see their faces when they realize we have them just where they want us! Have you got that hailing channel open to their commander yet?”

       “Yes Val. It took me a while to isolate which frequency he was using. You may begin,” the little Gray told her.

       Cocking her hip while in midair she replied, “Lets’ do this!”

       Commander of ULTIMATE’s Heavy Assault Brigade, Colonel Randolph Hodges, blinked as a voice broke onto his secure communications channel. Quickly he signaled Major Baka to jam the SOB, but whoever it was had their number down pat.

       The woman’s voice spoke calmly and with authority as she gave them her warning. “Attention ULTIMATE units. You are entering Area 61’s no fly zone. You are directed to immediately leave this area. Failure to do so will result in deadly force being used against you. We have official representatives of ULTIMATE here on the ground, and they are monitoring this situation.”

       A short pause later, that mutie bitch he recognized as Number One came on the channel. “This is the commander of SRT-One to all ULTIMATE units. The local commanders here have the situation under control. You are advised that further intrusion into their airspace is unwarranted, and will serve only to heighten tensions.”

       Another quick wordless chat with Major Baka assured him that whatever tricks they had used to break into his comm net, their broadcast wasn’t being received by anyone else. This pit of corruption was still cut off from the world, and they could do whatever they wanted and no one would know. The mission was still a go.

       His advance RAH-66’s were sending back images, but his own command bird was close enough now to see for himself. The telescopic imagers showed the lone woman floating in midair, lit up by lights on her suit.

       'By Gawd it was her!' he thought. “And there she has conveniently made herself a perfect target.”

       The Colonel keyed his mike. “Who are you to give orders to me?” he said, deliberately not identifying himself.

       The woman’s voice responded, slipping into a smooth sexy southern Georgian accent. “Sugar, I’m Cap’n Vroom, and if you boys don’t high-tail it out of here, ya’ll going to git a whooping ya’ll ain’t never gonna forget. Ya’ll git all of that Col. Hodges, sweetie?”

       Cutting the channel, he turned to Major Baka with a snarl, “We got their positions locked?”

       The Major nodded. For this to work, no records could survive and for the Colonel’s name to be mentioned over the air wasn’t a good thing, however they'd a fix that should cover them.

       “Well then! Let’s give this mu-tainted bitch our answer!”

To be Continued.

May the God Lord make us truly grateful for what we're about to receive!

Chapter 57

James Farris swallowed hard, fighting the nausea from the stench of fear that filled the packed elevator. He could almost hear the thoughts on everyone’s mind, “Almost there, almost there, almost …”, urging the ascending elevator to go faster.

Then abruptly the doors opened. Like starting gates at the horse races, they ran down the hallway leading to the surface. Confusingly, military and medical people were still bringing wounded in, as those like James fought to get out and away from the impending self-destruction.

The way out was hopelessly blocked with people, but after wrestling with his conscience, he decided that passing on the word about the Bomb underneath them wouldn’t hurt his chances of getting out.

Looking in one of the side rooms that was being used as an emergency ward, he grabbed one of the SPs. “You need to get everyone out! Everything went crazy downstairs! There’s some kind of self-destruct bomb about to blow. I don’t know how long we’ve got left but it can’t be long.” Feeling that he’d done the right thing, James turned and ran to the exit, hoping the way was now clear.

In his hurry to leave, he never saw the two women working to save the life of the young man on the gurney as they looked up from their labors at the news. Nor did he see the two teens in their blue supersuits, as they too looked at each other.

“Okay, it got worse,” Malik groaned, passing Josh the dollar.

Courtney Hathaway couldn’t spare more than a glancing acknowledgment of the news. She and Techie were fighting as hard as they could to save their patient’s life, but the odds were shifting against them. Whoever designed these diabolical flechettes-shrapnel needed to be shot with the damn things. Rather just tearing holes in their victims, these things actually further fragmented as they traveled. Worse, each one had microscopic spirals and barbs that made the damn things dig even deeper into their hapless targets.

She was using her telekinesis to pick out the tiny darts, but there were hundreds of them. If not for Techie, and her ability to instantly provide whatever she needed, it would’ve been impossible. The scanner the woman in black had whipped up out of spare parts helped her better see just what was happening inside the young man, while the other custom designed instruments kept anymore damage to a minimum.

Courtney hadn’t even tried looking at that head wound, afraid of what she might find. First stabilize the body and worry about that later. What worked in their favor was Capt. Blazzar being such a high order supra. His very physiology was extremely robust, and his physical conditioning was in a class by itself.

That was an oddity because his medical records of old didn’t indicate this level of physical enhancement. As a matter of course, she’d reviewed all the original Project Meridian subject studies. This was more like what she would’ve expected of Joyce Sturm with her absolute goddess-like perfection mutation.

On the downside, he’d been in a state of extreme mental and physical shock. She counted them lucky that none of those flechettes had come close to one of several unique organs, likely associated with his ability to generate extreme high energy manifestations. Who knew what could leak from them; battery acid or maybe even some kind of radiological material.

That list didn’t include outside events that threatened not only her patient, but her own life as well. Elizabeth Tyree had flown in with a note, warning that ULTIMATE was racing towards them, apparently intent on dealing with Area 61 and its research facilities, in the same way fanatics of an earlier time had the Library at Alexandria. Now, James Farris, his name as she recalled, was saying the Wildfire protocols were activated.

That device was designed to destroy anything dangerous trying to escape from Area 61 before it could threaten the world at large. Its yield was big enough to completely destroy the underground complex and vaults, but leave the surface relatively untouched. However that was over 50 years ago and hadn’t considered the type of contents stored down there.

Area 61 might focus on supra-human research, but there were dozens of experiments going on that were cutting edge, pushing the boundaries of human understanding in a multitude of disciplines. Plus there were a pair of fusion reactors providing the power for the complex as well as such as the Z-Ray. No, if Wildfire went off, she doubted that any of them could get far enough away to be safe.

Joshua and Malik, she noticed, had turned to the Air Force security police, and were urging them to help topside with the possible invasion. Techie, not breaking stride as they worked together, said, “Doctor, I have to go. I might be able to stop that bomb with my powers. If I don’t, it won’t matter if we save him or not.”

Courtney nodded. “Go. I’ll do the best I can.”

Techie nodded at a run, heading down while the boys and Elizabeth, with the security cops in tow, went up, both into harm’s way.

Val was already diving into Slow-Time before the first missiles even dropped from the stubby wings of the first wave of dropships. She used her flight to slam her feet to the ground as she sprinted forward. “Eat your heart out Doc!” she exulted, accelerating madly.

The Hellfire 2 AGM-114m has a range of about 8000m. However they were both racing towards each other at insane velocities. She hadn’t cleared more than a few steps before the very air went from being as viscous as water to an impossible gelatinous-like mass, fighting her for every inch as she ran forward.

Her supersuit, by Maggie, was earning its pay, helping to steady her as she slogged forward. Its flight control-like panels were out, making her run easier. Just as important, the force-screen she’d recently inherited seemed to really reduce the amount of drag upon her.

Overhead, the gathering thick clouds were the visible signs of Amanda working her weather magic. A glimpse in her helmet’s mirrors showed the rooster tail of dust and the ground level contrail that slowly formed behind her.

Putting her head down, she pushed harder, faster and faster. Even for her this was difficult, but this wasn’t her first rodeo. This time, with force-screen and suit, it should be easier. The further she got the more difficult it became. Her HUD, this deep into Slow-Time, was often a pain to read, given the flicker rates of the displays, but Maggie did the best she could to tweak them.

Point seven mach ... point eight, the display read, as it slowly changed. Doc and she used to have talks about how she could even breathe at the speeds she ran at. He’d all sorts of explanations, ranging from maybe she was manipulating time rather than simply running fast, to perhaps her rapid healing aiding her. Point nine. She could almost see the wall of compression forming in front of her now. The missiles racing towards her were trying to adjust their course to reach her.

Val smiled. They aren’t going to make it. Their guidance packages couldn’t make course adjustments fast enough. With a burst of effort, she threw herself forward even faster, fighting through the brief but violent buffeting. 1.0 mach. Yeager time baby!

The ground level sonic boom echoed across as suddenly humid air formed a visible shock wave. The missiles targeted on her went wild, passing over her head, caught in her slipstream. The explosions from their warheads detonating mixing with her supersonic shockwave disturbed the other missiles in flight targeted on the other defenders, causing them to crash, adding to the balls of fire headed for the heavens.

Breaking onto the surface, James blinked. That incredible light show from the lightning and aurora was only faded wisps now. What was amazing was the literal wall of heavy clouds moving in, clearly visible in the dawn. He’d grown used to the dry air, but now it was wet with moisture. The humid air that whipped around him made it more like he drank the air than breathed it.

A roar of a helicopter ripping over his head brought him back to earth. The buildings up here looked as if a war was going on. The windows were busted out and one whole side was blackened. His fellow escapees were running to the large bunker-like hangers cut into the side of the mountain, where not only aircraft were kept, but also the buses meant to evacuate them in case of emergency. Normally they were flown in from Las Vegas everyday, and because of that, no one had their own vehicles here.

Another helicopter screamed by, and despite his panic wondered what was going on. He saw that the people up here were surprised by all the techs like him coming up and running for their lives.

Someone yelled at him. “Get Down!”

He half-crouched, not sure why.

In slow motion, like some nature channel program about the insect world, one of those helicopters swooped in and fire flew from it. In front of him, men and women he’d worked, joked, and laughed with were torn apart. What was left was unspeakable.

A boot in his back pushed him to the ground. The owner was a tall blonde woman, who he realized was the one who yelled at him to get down. Dressed like one of those commandos from the movies with all the guns holstered and strapped to her, she was a walking arsenal. In her hands she carried an impossibly long barreled gun she threw to her shoulder as if it was no more than a toy from his childhood.

She rocked back each time she fired at the aerial predators as they swooped down on the unarmed flock of hapless fleeing civilians. It seemed he could even see her shots sparking and ricocheting off their armor. Finally she must have hit a vulnerable spot because it suddenly whipped onto its side, smashing into the tarmac, bouncing, shedding parts and flames as it rolled away.

James was heaved to his feet and shoved back towards the entrance. “Tell them they have to stay below! There is only death up here!” his savior told him.

More fire arced down from the sky as one of the predator’s mates tried to avenge its death. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he was going to die. The moment passed and he opened them to find a shimmering blue globe about him and the blond Amazonian Rambo.

One of the Meridian subjects gave them a thumbs up as the glow popped away. 'Malak,' his dazed brain told him. Magnetism. She saved his life. The Amazon shoved him back down the stairway door where others cowered.

“Tell them!,” she shouted, as she brought her weapon up again.

“This is Recon One. Five and Six are down. Cover me. I’m going to give them a Hell-Fire,” Capt. Frank Adams ordered. His RAH-66 was fast and agile. With its three barrel 20mm Vulcan cannon plus the six tube missile bay, it was one Sierra-Hotel machine. As impressive as all that was, it was still small potatoes next to the heavy armament carried by a V-33 Dropship. That was why his flight was tasked with this secondary mission of making sure none of these mutant loving nerds got out of the killing fields.

He didn’t expect the gene-tainted to care if wrong-headed real humans got shredded, but Capt. Adams had already lost two of his six ship flight. Some mutant bitch using a damn big ass gun had knocked them down. When the flight tried to suppress her fire, another frakking mutant had covered her in some kind of protective globe.

So you can stop a 20 mike mike, but can you stop an anti-tank missile baby?” he muttered, selecting one of the six Hell-Fires he carried in his ship’s internal bay. In a whoosh, the fire and forget missile, capable of punching through the heavy armor on a main battle tank, leapt forward.

“Eat that sweetheart!” he whispered to himself, whipping his helo about.

Billie snagged another white-coated adult desperate enough to try and run across that bloody zone where those helicopters mowed people down. She could see Josh and Malik were coming up the stairs, along with some Air Force guys. Hopefully they could stop the lemming-like dashes of these nuts.

Katrina, the tall blond woman in black, was still blasting away with that cannon of hers. Malak was covering as many as she could with her blue glowing screens, but she could do just so much. That was why Billie was helping drag those she could reach to safety and yet still watch Malak’s shapely back.

Just then some kind of side door opened on one of those damn helicopters and a missile streaked out. “Malak! Missile 2 O’clock!” she shouted just as all those game-like sims had taught her.

Her friend hastily realized that she couldn’t protect everyone nearby if it exploded.

Billie’s mouth dropped open as a blue globe instead flashed around the missile. For a split second it hovered within, suddenly brought to a complete stop within Malak’s magnetic field, then it exploded.

Already once this night, Malak’s powers had been tested to their utmost. She and her almost-sisters, Maxi-Malaks, contained, if just for a nano-second, a nuclear reaction. The energies released from the Hell-Fire ATGM were great enough to burn through the thick armor of a tank, but when compared to how the teen had already been tested tonight, it wasn’t enough.

The globe held and the fires trapped within turned the normal blue into a fiery orange. Straining, Malak held it still.

Billie saw another helicopter swooping in and got an idea. “Malak throw it back at them!”

A flick of the teen’s wrist sent the ball of energy flying at their would-be attacker. The flying machine heeled over hard to avoid being hit, but then Malak released her grasp on her globe. The explosion shook them all, but the now running helicopter awkwardly staggered in the air from the blast, skidding into the ground with its rotors thrashing about like a fish out of water.

Both girls were smiling at their success as Katrina admonished them, all the while firing at another of their attackers. “Don’t get cocky kids. This ain’t like playing in simulators!”

Billie stopped smiling as she saw big looming man-like shapes rushing at them through the dirty dust cloud kicked up by the battle. “Malak,” she warned, pointing.

Pyotr ripped the rotor from one of the light helicopters as he watched his sister’s charge. Her sonic boom caused the entire barrage of missiles targeted at her to miss wildly. Even better, the resultant explosions and concussions also made many of the other missiles flying at the rest of them go in every different direction. Just as long as they weren’t heading at him, he was happy.

He almost missed it as she used her momentum to throw herself upwards so fast that many in the past had mistaken it for her being able to fly. She passed completely through a pair of her attackers, leaving falling burning wrecks behind her. Now it appeared she could even really fly now, as she angled back to the ground, with the mass of aircraft scattering like a flock of sheep with a wolf in their midst.

A wave of his hand took care of the remaining missiles seeking them. Rather than throw them back at ULTIMATE, he simply destroyed them. You never knew what the fusing would be on those things. He didn’t like being surprised by one exploding unexpectedly.

His eyes narrowed. Pyotr was briefed on just how quickly the 10 power armored troopers could be deployed from their parent dropships. Now he got a first hand look at just how fast. In 30 seconds, all 10 were on the ground and moving. When you add in it happening 50 or 60 times suddenly he had hundreds of heavily armed enemies on the ground.

Slapping down one of the hovering dropships onto its recently dropped troops with his TK, he saw another ball of fire and wreckage falling to the ground as his sister did her thing. 'Subtract 20 tin soldiers,' he thought. He threw up a wall of force as another wave of missiles flew at them. Conserving his strength, he used only enough force to set off their payloads. Doing that far enough away meant he didn’t have to worry about their explosives. Even if the warhead survived going through his wall, it stripped off their vanes and maneuvering surfaces. Like his sister said, “Good enough.”

Plus the explosions and dust kicked up helped hide them, forcing their enemies to get in closer. “However, that means,” he thought, as he watched chunks of debris the size of small cars smash into one dropship’s cockpit, while another sheared off an engine pod from a second, “the groups’ strongmen get to come into play”.

Pyotr interrupted his attack on an enemy dropship to throw up a hasty wall to stop a flight of thermobaric rockets meant to create a miniature firestorm. The searing blast wave struck them like a hot summer wind, but he was happy to see one of ULTIMATE’s own aircraft was taken out by the premature detonation. The flaming ball of metal that used to be a multi-million dollar aircraft rolled towards him, but he knocked it aside with a TK fist. Another banked hard, trying to avoid the tower of flames, but misjudged and bounced into the ground, making their own ground troops jump for cover to get out of the way of the knifing rotor blades.

That youngster had done well with her weather magic. Those pilots spent weeks out here acclimatizing to the flying conditions. In just a few minutes she’d changed the equation. By changing the air density, she’d drastically altered how hard it was to fly under these conditions. In the stress of combat, their own reactions were betraying them, causing far more accidents than normal. They could either back off and fly more conservatively and be easier targets, or continue to press the attack and take more losses. Either one was good with Pyotr.

Once again he aborted his attack on a dropship to defend their position. Soon that is all he would be doing, and then, well, then it would get interesting.

Col. Randolph Hodges cursed as he ordered his SPAD interceptors to the attack. He honestly hadn’t expected any casualties. He’d known that Alan Glenn was brought back here. He’d also been briefed that Kali and Tech-Witch were expected to show up. What he didn’t expect was that Glenn and Kali were one and the same. He should’ve made the connection when she identified herself as Capt. Vroom.

As a kid, Vroom was one of the fastest speedsters on the planet. Now, in the first moments of combat she’d taken out at least a dozen dropships. She was so damn fast their heavy weapons were useless. Since when was Vroom female and how the hell had that bitch gotten so powerful? Was the mu-tainted also a shape-changing perversion as well?

Immediately he got his troopers on the ground and moving, but some mutant scum dug-in atop Area 61 had one hell of a powerful TK talent and was shielding the mu-tainted filth from his weapons. That is when they weren’t just ripping his aircraft to pieces.

Even his recon RAH-66s that were assigned to take out runners were getting the shit kicked out of them as the muties worked as a team. He’d dismissed that brat with the weather control powers, but somehow she’d changed the altitude density from the 5k above sea level to more like 10k. All that training his pilots had put in were now working against them. They were making mistakes left and right. Mistakes that were costing him men and machines. Added to that, his communications were flaky as hell probably because of Vroom’s partner, Tech-witch, screwing things up. All of which meant he had a hell of a fight on his hands.

Oh, he still would succeed, but the butcher’s bill would be a lot higher then he ever dreamed. Glancing out of a view port, he couldn’t help yelling as he saw the SPADs arrow down through the twisting heavy clouds. “Get that damn Bitch!”

When Sapphira was given command of SRT-One she'd treated it as any other research project. She'd covered the experiences of leaders and soldiers over the ages and how technology had changed warfare over the ages. Part of that investigation included accounts of soldiers from the last century as they waited for death to come to them. At Gettysburg watching Pickett’s Charge come at them or Rorke’s Drift facing the pride of the Zulu nation, they stood, fought, and died, but they did not falter.

She knew what the attack plan would be. There would be little subtlety here. Bombard with missiles; deploy the armor; charge forward and destroy any who still lived.

Watching the woman who called herself Capt. Vroom, she was guessing about now Col Hodges was thinking he’d made a mistake. She knew that with Peter the Great and his people being here her former employers definitely had 'screwed the pooch', as Three would say.

Through the dust her sensors tagged the rapidly advancing Peace-Maker Power Armor suits. Carrying an assortment of Barrett 25mm Cobra assault cannons, and Lockheed 1cm energy guns as easily as an unsuited man would a rifle, they were as dangerous as any light armored vehicle and just as tough. Add in the enhanced strength, data-sharing network, plus the defensive systems and you had a real handful. A fast, agile, light tank that could kick in doors, climb stairs, and shrug off anything lighter than a RPG. They were tough.

“Steady people. Three stand by. Five? How is your ammo supply?” she asked.

The big German replied, “10 sure kills if I hit, and 20 or 30 smaller pieces.”

She’d had him start his own attacks, throwing the boulder size masses from the damaged elevator shaft the moment the dropships came into range. Best to have him throw everything he could now, because once the ground troops engage, he would be too busy to worry about ranged targets.

However, she needed him to hold on just a moment more. Sapphira had a plan. According to doctrine, the troops would advance with the dropships above and behind, covering them. However, Peter, Bob the brick and Five had knocked holes in that formation and the covering ships pushed forward further than they should. A maneuver that would prove costly to them.

“On my mark. Now!” Sapphira ordered.

All six of her suit’s scramblers launched, each at a different dropship. The ultra-tech missile’s sole purpose was to jam and confuse control systems. She usually used them on fleeing vehicles because of the electronic ignition controls most possessed. Her scramblers were quite effective, but these also had a special modification.

The first dropship struck was covered in a web of electrical like arcs before suddenly jettisoning all of their ordnance as its electrical systems went haywire. The stricken machine sunk toward the ground powerless. The others she’d hit followed the first, fighting to maintain control as they too fell powerless.

Three yelled, “Fire in the Hole!”

Using his powers, he swept a vibratory blast across the falling jettisoned rockets, missiles and bombs. Detonators and blasting caps were all sensitive explosives, needing only an impact or pressure to set them off. Three’s powers could set even the most inert materials to a boil by agitating their very molecules. Not all of them blew, but sympathetic detonations took care of those few that didn’t. Right on top of the advancing line of armor, a wall of death erupted.

“Hit the ends of their line and work your way to the middle!” she yelled, unleashing her own Disrupters. At full power, her usually non-lethal stun-only weapons were deadly, punching holes clean through both sides of the Peacemaker Armor. If there was one thing she'd plenty of, it was power. That girl did her a favor by increasing the humidity in the area. Her vapor accumulators soaked up the water, fueling her fusion plant. Sapphira had power to burn, and she meant to hit them as hard as she could.

Peter’s team saw what she was doing and added their fire to the kill zone. Rocks, bullets, and Gawd knows what else, flew at their common enemy. Some of the armor fell seemingly for no reason at all which just made them easier targets.

Shock and Awe, her ass. For centuries generals knew of the pure power of a well timed sledgehammer volley. Javelins, arrows, muskets, or cannon fire; it didn’t matter. US spin doctors wanted the world to believe that they’d invented the psychological impact that it could have. For a moment, she and her people slowed that iron wave washing towards them, but like the tide, it couldn’t be stopped.

No good thing lasted forever, and Peter couldn’t shield everyone. “May the good Lord make us truly grateful for what we are about to receive,” she quoted, sensing what was to come. “Cover!”

As the first bursts of 25mm and energy gunfire started ripping up the ground around them, she took cover. Like the first droplets from a storm, the scattered cannon fire turned into driving hail of fire and destruction. Shaken by the amount of pure fury that had been thrown against them, the line of steel faltered. However, while ULTIMATE HAB was full of intolerant bigots, they were still elite troops. Rallying, they hurtled forward into the breach, forgetting the cost Forlorn Hopes always charged in blood.

Area 61

Maggie waited for the high speed elevator’s doors to open. She could hear and feel the battle going on above ground before descending too far away. Trying to distract herself from her worries, she started preparing for her mission: stopping The Bomb.

Her talent assembled a handful of boring and crawling machines that would help her get through the layers of rock so she could touch the bomb with her powers. The terminally paranoid genius that’d emplaced it out did himself. It was not going to be easy, but if she failed, hundreds would die, including her.

They were truly between a rock and a hard place. Trapped with The Bomb about to go off underneath them, and a heavily armed mutant hating army wanting to slaughter them all, above. Once again the so-called ancient Chinese curse of ‘may you live in interesting times’ was snapping hungrily at their heels.

The doors slid open, and at a run only a high level supra could match, she raced down the empty hallway.

Twisting in mid-air, the stream of 30mm projectiles floated by Val. She swam for the passing armored aircraft, passing through the leisurely spinning blades of the dropship‘s turbo-prop. Running her hand along one of them she bent it like it was taffy.

In slow motion the entire machine began turning to the right, as the out of balance engine mount tore itself to pieces. She used that spin to throw her at another. Twenty, she counted, drifting to the next.

Never before had she been forced to exert her powers so. For years she’d done everything she could to avoid it. The martial arts and meditation were tools she'd used to prevent exactly just what was happening now. All because each time she used her powers they were all that much harder to stuff back into their genie bottle.

Smashing into the top of the dark blue craft, she ran across it, using her supra-speed to destabilize it as she ripped its tail fin away with a knife hand attack. Like her old friend Jeff used to do, she was riding the Luck. Letting it and her years of martial arts guide her in this aerial fight. The air really wasn’t her element but sometimes you had to make do with what was at hand.

She wasn’t even sure why she’d thrown herself in this direction. The reason appeared in front of her as it cleared the heavy turbulent cloud layer Amanda’s weather powers cooked up.

The aircraft was painted in ULTIMATE dark blue, and was circular shaped, with a two man teardrop canopy on top. A pair of stubby fins were on the rear while the bottom had the recessed bulges of weapon blisters. She could see the startled looks of the crew as she came right at them.

No matter how humans tried to disguise it, this was one of Ollie’s folks’ flying saucers. Most countries had some but didn’t have nearly enough to waste on military applications. That was something that ULTIMATE tried to make sure of. Besides for most nations, just having the ability to reach orbit or as far out as the moon was one hell of a moneymaker. ULTIMATE wanted to be the only one with these armed air to space fighters. The bureaucrats even tried to play down their obvious air superiority role by calling them Space-Pan-Atmosphere-Defenders.

Flipping in the air like a swimmer so she flew feet first, Val crossed her arms across her chest. She’d done this before, and hadn’t liked it much then either. If she hit it just right …

With a bone numbing jerk she struck their shielding. The defensive energy globe flashed blue as she passed through it and into the craft’s cockpit. An explosion of debris flew outward as it rolled wildly, its pilots ejecting, seeking some chance at survival.

Green bolts of energy flew all around her as she let the crash impact pinwheel her out of the way of the stricken crew’s wing mates' revenge. Balling herself up, she bounced off another, as a blue flash from its field sent both of them flying away in mad arcs. More green lightning lanced at her, and one glanced off her new force screen but another did not.

Pain clawed at her arm as the energy from the destructive beam burned through her uniform. Resisting the haze threatening to cover her vision, she used herself like a billiard ball, slamming into another of her darting attackers.

The same ability that made her friend Doug such an extraordinary shot as Sharpshooter, let her calculate the arc needed to use herself to slam one of the SPADs into one of its companions' fire. Dodging the beams bouncing off its shield, she dove for the ground as one found their way past the defending blue shimmer. The explosion behind her only temporarily distracted the wolf pack at her heels as they winged over in pursuit.

Josh concentrated again on the image of Capt. Vroom’s black uniformed figure suddenly landing next to one of those hulking robot-looking things.

Nine times out of ten his victim immediately turned and fired at the mirage that turned out only to be another robot soldier. Sometimes that one returned fire, taking out both of them, and sometimes not.

He sighed, picking another pair of walking dead men. His best trick of making a bunch of people blind and helpless didn’t work on these damn things. Okay, he knew that whatever they looked liked, there was really a person inside those metal things because otherwise his power wouldn’t work at all. Maybe they had some kind of protection from being in armor.

When he’d ‘looked’ through one of their eyes to find out what they were seeing, his vision wasn’t as clear as it was normally. However once Josh saw what their helmets displayed, he knew what illusion to force through to the pilot. Unfortunately he had to do it one at a time, and there were hundreds of them coming right at him and his friends.

Suddenly he was thrown to the ground!

Malik sat on his chest, but Josh could only stare at the smoldering hole above him in the concrete where his head had just been.

“Thanks,” Josh grunted as his friend pulled him to his feet.

Malik shrugged, keeping low, which was a luxury Josh couldn’t afford if he wanted to try and stop these ULTIMATE goons. He had to come up with something better.

Focusing on a pair this time, rather than just one, the two suddenly spun, shooting at two other robo-goons. One of those fired back before the cannon shells and laser beams killed the men inside.

Okay, three out of four was better than two. In the distance, Josh saw his teacher still in that insane aerobatic battle, with all those blue saucers spitting green beams all over the place trying to kill her.

A quick tap on his shoulder from Malik reminded him the two of them had more pressing problems of their own. Picking out yet another group advancing to kill them, Josh led more enemies to their death.

Ollie’s mind danced across his jury rigged control panel. Able to interface directly with The Rocket’s defensive, electronic counter measure systems, and communications, he fought ULTIMATE’s attempts to jam the defenders' tactical comms as well as disrupting their attackers’ communications, sensors, and targeting systems. It was an unseen battle fought at the speed of light, as each side tried to give their own side an advantage, while they did their best to deny their opponents the same.

Big Mac joined in the battle, and the AI was for the first time in over 25 years doing the job it’d been designed for. Between them they were as busy as that one legged man in that kicking contest, as Val would say.

No matter how they calculated the odds, they were fighting the no-win scenario from the wrong side. The Rocket was just one machine versus the dedicated might of purpose-built electronic warfare aircraft. The Gray pulled The Rocket into a climb, spitting decoys and flares behind them as another Home-on-jam missile sought them.

Ollie knew if he tried he had a good chance at escaping. Finally after untold years, his parent’s matrixes were in his possession. He was free. Both he and Big Mac weren’t even human so what was this fight to them? Everything.

From the tentative reaching out of a group of lonely youngsters to him, to the family-like bond they’d formed together, these humans accepted him as even his own people would not. He could, would not abandon them.

The agile human rebuilt Gray saucer twisted, avoiding yet another missile sent to kill them. As important as survival was to him, what passed as his own stomach roiled as he watched his dearest friend fight for her life against the SPADs. The Space-Pan-Atmosphere-Defender fighters, like The Rocket, were captured Gray spacecraft rebuilt and refitted for humans.

As powerful as Val was, she was no match for a dozen of them tearing through the air after her. Ollie remembered the shy boy speedster who was so clumsy and awkward, in conflict with a duality most humans lacked. The feminine neurological patterns were incompatible with her male physiology. Ollie did what he could and helped the others understand that Alan wasn’t being difficult but instead had a problem.

Then disaster struck. Sent out to stop the unstoppable, they’d fallen to Leviathan. Panicked, their masters exposed them again to that infernal device and unspeakable tragedy followed. He’d been tempted, more than ever before, to abandon his parents to help the child that’d been stripped of her family and thrown out of the only home she’d ever known. Worse, Ollie’s efforts to help Jeff Fortune also failed, as the young man, blaming himself for the death of his friends, took his own life.

Not realizing that he’d made his decision, Ollie pulled up into an Immelmann, zooming from the edges of this furious aerial furball, racing to its center.

“Ollie,” Big Mac’s calm modulated voice asked, using the machine interface they now both shared. “May I ask about our heading?”

Weaving in and out of the furious battle, Ollie replied, “I am going to aid my friend Big Mac.”

The old 80s AI asked, “You do realize that we are unarmed, and unless I miss my guess, we don’t have the advantage of a shield like her attackers?”

Bouncing from a near miss, the Gray confirmed, “That is correct. This is a reconnaissance craft. Originally it had stealth systems instead of a shield. That is why my parents and I were shot down so many years before because of bad luck, abnormal meteorological phenomenon and a human in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately those systems were too badly damaged to be repaired, even if the humans of the time recognized what they were, before completely destroying them in their ignorance.

“Additionally, when the engineers at Area 61 learned enough to begin to refitting this craft for their use as a transport for The Rocketeers, they decided it was in the best interests of public relations and political spin doctoring to equip it with only defensive systems.

“What is more, The Rocket was refitted using 1960’s and 70’s technology while ULTIMATE’s SPADs were rebuilt with 21st century materials.” Ollie grunted, pulling some G’s, side-slipping away from a burst of cannon fire. “On the other hand, this won’t be entirely one sided, because using the cyber-interface that is letting us converse, I am The Rocket, controlling it at the speed of thought. Plus I have as my REO, you, an intelligent supercomputer. Exciting is it not?” the Gray pilot said, with as much of a grin his alien face would let him.

The AI broke the radar lock of a pair of missiles coming at them. “I don’t know if exciting would be the word I would use Ollie. I was designed to control the entire nuclear arsenal of a superpower from deep inside a bunker in the middle of a mountain. Flying into the middle of a battle in a 40 year old jury-rigged unarmed flying saucer while duct taped to the deck, running in a server that is even more jury-rigged, from parts salvaged from office PCs, is not what I would call exciting. Terrifying, mind numbing or perhaps petrifying, but NOT exciting.”

A small pause passed between them. “Big Mac, I am truly sorry but I have no choice,” Ollie apologized.

The AI’s calm voice responded asking, “Ollie, it is not good to be the only one of your kind and alone is it?”

Darting into the heavy overcast clouds, he rolled The Rocket onto her back, slamming the throttles full forward. “No it is not.”

“Then let us go save our friend,” Big Mac said, as he wreaked havoc on ULTIMATE’s communications network.

Ollie barely nodded as they zoomed to the rescue.

Amanda called the tornado from the stormy clouds that now burst with energy. The problem was she could only guide it in just so close without endangering her own people.

Lizzie was up here trying to help but the older girl told her to go back down the stairs. Amanda was finding it hard enough just trying to function as the thunderous crash of bombs and explosions roared around them in a continuous crash. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for the little girl.

Her friend Malak took up the slack that guy Peter had left open. As more and more explosions struck his TK screen, he had to shrink the area he covered. Malak’s blue magnetic screen shimmered right next to his, stopping the overflow, but more and more of the bad guys were working their way around the sides.

Billie was fighting all who found that backdoor but was beginning to be overwhelmed. Stretched out as if in a bizarre game of Cat’s Cradle, she pushed, tripped, and tied up those who towered over her in their armor.

The good news was she could let the twister rampage on its own for a while. Helping Billie, Amanda called lightning from those same storms. In a flash of yet more explosions, ammunition and the guns themselves blew up!

Val twisted, trying to keep from spinning out of control. Fighting past the pain, she hit the overrides on her supersuit, shutting down her computer controlled flight surfaces. The system was badly damaged from that last shot. Rather than have it malfunctioning and throwing her off, they’d be of more use as inert armor.

She wasn’t sure how badly she was hurt. That last blast of green bolts hit her square in the back. The good news was her rapid healing would make everything good as new given time. The bad of course was time was the one thing she didn’t have. Using her arms and legs to guide her like a skydiver, she made herself as hard to hit as she could.

Maybe little Lizzie wasn’t quite as tough as Val thought, but then again she was still alive after being struck by not one, but several of the Gray energy weapons. Her helmet’s mirrors were blackened lumps, forcing her to flip onto her back to see what was happening.

Her out of control slew threw off the SPADs' aim but the well-trained pilots adjusted quickly. She’d managed to take out three of the damn things but a butcher’s dozen remained.

She wondered if this was finally going to be the end. At times in the past she’d wanted, courted that ending. Ironic that now that she’d so much to live for, that Death was never so close to her heels. After Jeff’s suicide, she’d vowed that was one out she’d never take, but she could be honest with herself that at times she’d recklessly thrown herself into harm’s way, daring fate.

Val didn’t know just when that’d changed. Was it Maggie or the kids that’d finally managed to touch her? Or maybe simply coming back to this pit of hell where it’d all begun finally let her lay her ghosts to rest? Perhaps it was holding her brother in her arms after all of these years, along with the hope he would live?

And what did fate do? It sent an entire frakking army of mutant hating fanatics to destroy all of her hopes and dreams. Her Luck’s music-like tones soared as a familiar silver crescent flashed out of the clouds, dropping down on top of one of the SPADs. It spat burning flares and decoys designed to confuse heat, radar, and visual seeking missiles backwards at the dark blue saucer. Defensive or not, it was enough to blind the pilots, causing them to tumble away to keep from colliding with another.

“Ollie.” Her heart hammered! The Rocket was unarmed and these killers in blue wouldn’t hesitate for a moment before pulling the trigger. As she watched, a pair of them peeled off, going after the red racing striped saucer.

Val flipped around, with her feet pointed ground-first like a cliff diver. A few bolts flew at her again, but now there was only ten of them, she thought sourly. Perhaps today would be her day to die, but with her last breath she would fight to keep those she loved alive.

So intent her concentration, she never noticed the changing music of her Luck as her decision altered the path of destiny.

Courtney Hathaway knew she’d failed this challenge. Gus Glenn was simply too torn apart inside for her to save. She couldn’t keep ahead of the continuing damage from that shrapnel. Every breath he took, every beat of his heart helped push the razor sharp fangs deeper into his flesh.

She wasn’t even sure why he still lived. Something in him just wouldn’t let him die. For the first time in a very long time she wanted to weep. She had fully opened herself to him, using every bit of resources she had to try and save him. Courtney found a strange resonance that deepened her rapport with him more intensely than any she‘d ever touched in the past.

Here was a man who really did exhibit the qualities of a good man. He wasn’t perfect, but he knew that and did his best to overcome his limitations. While her life was built around users and the used, his was of selflessly giving, and he never once questioned the cost.

Impossible, but there he was dying in front of her, this young man born 15 years before her, but who was also 15 years younger, a living contradiction in every sense of the word.

“It’s alright. I know I’m dying,” he whispered.

Startled, she was speechless. Courtney knew she shouldn’t be surprised but there was something about this older Glenn brother. He shouldn’t even be alive so why shouldn’t he also be conscious? “That puts you one up on me since I don’t know why you are still alive at all much less talking.”

A smile touched his pale lips. “It’s my energy reserves. I’m a living energy field, but when it’s gone so will I.”

Hope touched her. “Is there some way of recharging it? If we can keep you going until I can get all that shrapnel removed, we might be able to buy you time to heal.”

The slightest shake of his head told her no. “It’s not that easy. The only way for certain would be the Z-Ray, but I’m not going to let anyone put me back under that thing.”

Weakly he paused. “Have they initiated Wildfire?”

She nodded. “Yes they have. We’re trapped, with Mutant haters up top, but the Bomb below.”

He closed his eyes, pausing again. “There’s a chance I can help. If I’m close enough to the explosion I might be able to recharge myself and stop the blast. In tests Doc gave me, I could control a nuclear reactor by acting like a living dampening rod.”

Courtney gave him an intense searching look. She knew he wasn’t telling her the entire truth. “So you are saying you could heal yourself and stop the Bomb?”

His green eyes looked into hers. “Nothing is certain, but if you want to help me, it’s better than no chance at all.”

She made her decision. Truth or not, he’d no chance for survival here. Reaching down, she held his hand and smiled. “Stay with us. This isn’t over yet.”

Looking around, she saw a shaken James Farris had returned. Not her first choice for a helper but there was no one else.

“Mr. Farris I need your help. We’re taking him down,” she ordered.

His eyes grew wide, his fear written all over his face. “But what about the self-destruct?”

Her face as hard as stone and her voice flat, she said, “After what has happened here tonight, do you know of anyone else besides Capt. Blazzar who can stop a nuclear device from exploding?”

A glimmer of hope filled his eyes. Courtney had no idea of the odds but she was sure that hope was ill founded. Nonetheless she kept that thought to herself.

Together they pushed the wounded man into the next elevator going back down into the pit.

Major Jason Roberts yelled, “Push’em!”

Tonight was one of those rare complete screw ups by the numbers. HQ completely underestimated the expected resistance, and like always, the grunts on the ground were taking it in the shorts.

Ducking another crashing twisting wreck that used to be a state of the art dropship, he knew the flyboys weren’t having any too easy of a time either. Leading by example, he used his Barrett Cobra assault cannon at full rock and roll, burning through his ammo drum at an alarming rate. Better that than dead, he cursed. They had to keep the damn muties’ heads down.

All about him laid the blasted remains of Peacemaker power suits and shattered burning aircraft. Hurtling a ruined suit with a still glowing hole big enough to stick his whole arm through, he watched his HUD count down the range. None of the dropships had gotten close enough to drop the munitions the Op-plan called for. The muties were too damn effective at stopping the missiles with those infernal screening powers of theirs.

Their briefings had told of only one young gene tainted kid with the ability, but HQ got that wrong too. Someone over there was throwing up screens that were virtually impenetrable, keeping the mutants safe from his people’s weapons.

They’d completely lost contact with HQ. The only communications that were up was the Peacemaker suit’s laser comms. Those were just about impossible to jam. A man next to him screamed as his visor was suddenly spattered with some nasty green stuff coming from the inside. The stricken man fell crashing to the ground, rolling in agony.

A blinking green light told the major that finally they were in range. “Major Roberts to all units! Enable your grenades! Fire!” he ordered.

All down the line, the surviving suits' built-in launchers chugged away, tossing a stream of munitions at the pocked marked remains of the upper level of Area 61.

The moment the fecal matter hit the rotary oscillator, Marine Staff Sergeant Green knew deep in his guts it was going to get bad, real bad. He and Hennessy made good time to where the wounded were being picked up and helped as they could. The two of them rode back in with the Air Dale Security Police and tried mostly to stay out of the way.

That’s where he ran across the other sniper team. The two SEALs were in bad shape, but what caught his eye was whoever carried them in also brought in all their gear, including the XM-111 BFG. He’d immediately picked it up. Like all good marines, he’d memorized his scope settings and immediately dialed them into the 35 lb weapon. Not as good as a true zero, but for field expedient conditions it would have to do.

When that kid flew in, warning about invaders, he’d moved to where he had a good spot to see what was happening. Then things got interesting when those ULTIMATE weenies were warned off, and they’d opened fire.

Battle-wise, he’d found a good position to make his stand and carefully began serving his targets one at a time. They’d only limited ammo and he was none too sure of just how reliable those fancy munitions were. Still, he had to make do with what he had.

Somehow this big blond that had legs clean up to here ended up near him, and after taking a glance at his weapon, casually tossed him a 10 lb box of shells. It took him only a second to determine they were compatible and together the two of them were laying down some pretty serious covering fire.

That was a good thing as that powered armor closed enough to shoot back. In all his time in the Corp, he'd never seen anything like it. A Gawd-awful mix of the worst footage he’d ever seen of WWI, WWII, Korea, Nam, and Desert Storm all rolled up into one were the only thing that came close.

When that Broad in the gold armor knocked down that line of dropships and all of their ordnance onboard dropped, detonating on top the poor sods advancing underneath, he’d almost felt sorry for them. Despite that hell of fire and steel, they’d kept on coming. He was under no illusions what would happen if they were overrun.

This attack was an act of war and there was no way they could afford to let a single voice live to speak the truth. Like a mad man, he was firing so quickly the heavy barrel of his rifle glowed. Hennessy picked up a launcher from a fallen Air Dale’s hands and sent a Stinger missile soaring up at a helo.

Barely audible over the thunderous din of battle, a chorus of bangs made him pause. The small black dots arcing towards him from the advancing enemy made his mouth go dry. “Incoming!” he yelled, diving into the mass of broken concrete, chipped away by enemy fire.

The dull whoomps, instead of explosions, made his stomach twist up even more. That could only mean a gas attack, the Bastards! Reaching for his gas mask from long practice, he slipped it on and had it sealed in seconds. It only made sense because their armor already gave them protection, but that didn’t change the fact that it was a despicable weapon.

Looking up, he saw large blooming bubbles and pockets of white looking foam. “What the hell?” he wondered.

Malik watched as an Air Force sergeant fired a missile from a tube at a helicopter. Off to his right a pair of soldiers were doing the same. He’d ducked, following their cues as someone had yelled, “Incoming!”

Now this foaming crap was expanding like crazy all around them. The guys in that armor shooting at them moved right through it with no problems, but he saw that woman in black with the gun move back to avoid getting any of it on her.

She yelled out, “Restraining foam. Don’t get any of it on you. It’s like superglue flypaper and is very slick. Doesn’t matter how strong you are. It’ll trap you.”

Then out of nowhere there was one of those suits right in front of him! A quick step put him too close for it to fire that gun at him but an armored fist came down, striking him!

Malak blinked his eyes from the impact. That was the best they could do? With a wrench, he tore the rifle-like cannon from its grasp, snapping an ammo feed belt, sending large thumb sized bullets flying all over the place with a chatter.

Now that he had it, what the hell did he do with it? He didn’t know crap about guns. All that ghetto stuff about blacks and guns had nothing to do with him. He was born a rich kid, with a silver spoon in his mouth, and didn’t know anything about using one.

Looking at the cannon in his hands, however, a baseball bat? Now that was different! With a mighty swing that would have made the immortal Casey or the Babe proud, he rang the metal man’s bell, but good. In nothing flat there was one down and his bat was broken and useless.

Josh’s voice sounded in his radio. “Stay close.”

Turning, Malak saw two of the metal men suddenly turned on each other, blasting away with their rifle things. In a cloud of gun smoke they both fell, shot to pieces. He felt sick, knowing that Josh had killed those two. Looking down at the armored man he had put down, he realized that this one too, might be dead. Dead by his hand.

A large hand grasped his shoulder, and he spun to defend himself. Malak found himself looking at one of those people in the black military uniforms helping them.

What caught his attention wasn’t the man’s size but his eyes. Such an incredible shade of green. Not the emerald green of normal human eyes, they were the deep green of the trees of the forest and of growing things.

The hand’s owner rumbled in a deep voice. “It is not an easy thing to take a life. In the cycle of life you have the choice of taking a life or letting it take yours. They have given us no choice but to defend ourselves. All life is to be valued, but it is these fools who have disrespected it. Do what you need to do, to be true to yourself and your companions.”

That foam had flowed over those guys in SRT One, trapping them all but that woman in the gold armor. Stepping forward, the man waved his hand and the foam turned green and began collapsing in upon itself. In seconds they were free.

Another metal man charged at him, and Malik as he’d been trained, grabbed and flipped him over his hip. The ground shook as the heavy suit crashed. The teen was amazed, because although all of them had trained in the sims, none of that had been like this. He’d handled that armored giant as easily as with Mr. Glenn back in the dojo. As a matter of fact easier, because sensei was one cagey teacher. Or girl or whatever.

All the sex changing going on still had his head swimming. Well as long as it didn’t happen to him, Malik thought he could deal.

The helmet faceplate of the man he’d just thrown down splashed green from the inside, causing his imagination to almost make him retch.

The giant with the green eyes scolded, “Keep your attention on the fight. Even giants fall to the smallest of nature‘s creations, viruses and bacteria,” he said, pointing to the goo running down inside the helmet.

General Robert Laramie sat down heavily at his desk. With his key he opened the lockbox containing his personal weapon, a Para-Ordnance Nite-Tac .45 cal. Just how had everything come to ruin so quickly? All was going according to plan and then this. His command was soon to be engulfed in nuclear fire.

Twisting his chair around to look out of the large one-way glass window facing the labs and classrooms of Project Meridian, he held the Canadian update of the classic Colt .45 in his lap. He’d no illusions about what his fate would be over this debacle. At best being forced to resign in disgrace or worse a court martial and prison.

No, he would rather die with his boots on. Robert Laramie was a patriot and all he’d done was for his country. He’d done his best to walk the talk. Now the only question was, would he wait for the fire or take his own way out.

The click-clack of the slide ramming a round into the firing chamber was thunderously loud in the silent office. Then his mouth fell open. “What the hell?”

Passing through the labs were Dr. Hathaway and a technician, pushing a gurney.

Despite just the glance, he knew the face of the man upon it. Gus Glenn. So Project Thunderbolt had failed and the monster wasn’t dead. But why were they down here and not evacuating, unless they had some plan for Glenn to cheat death. He knew he’d been right not to trust that damn mind twister Hathaway.

He stood, straightening his uniform. Maybe his duty to his country wasn’t over yet. There was still a monster for him to slay. Purposefully he walked out of his office, weapon in hand.

Another thunderous boom followed by a wave of hot gas laden air made Malak’s protective screen flicker as she flinched. Although stopping all that stuff coming at her friends wasn’t hard, holding her screen up for so long was. Never before had she kept it on for this long, much less under these conditions.

That guy Peter just blew her away with how big an area he covered with his power as well as his control. He used only just enough juice to stop all the missiles and bullets from doing harm. That let him last a lot longer than she who had to use her full strength against everything. Although one difference was his couldn’t stop those laser things while hers could.

There were just so many of those damn armored suit things! SRT One might be taking the blunt of it, with Peter and his guys helping, but now ULTIMATE was coming around the ends!

Malak pushed her screen right next to Peter’s. Billie was doing some unreal Twister-Fu moves on all who came at them. Her girlfriend, Amanda even had a tornado running out there as well as lightning bolts that made those things blow up like popcorn. Josh was making them shoot each other while her brother was throwing down hand to hand with them and winning.

And still it wasn’t enough.

Dirty, nasty, grimy, and fighting despair, she remembered her mother’s words. “Look them in the eye, work twice as hard, and be four times better.”

Taking a deep breath, she ‘pushed’ her screen so it covered even more area, while simultaneously reaching out a hand to use her power to draw one of the fallen suits to her. Then she pulled another, stacking it on top, and so on. Maybe she couldn’t screen everyone but if she could build a 'sandbag' wall made of these things, it would help.

As she was grabbing another, it moved, trying to aim its gun at her! Her eyes hardened and Malak ‘swirled’ her magnetism as she pulled. Crackling electricity filled the already hot stinking air with more ozone as it convulsed and went limp. Carefully she told herself, it and not him girlfriend.

Billie hopped over her wall as her brother pulled Josh behind it as well. The wind whipped the fused glassy sand like a chainsaw, howling down upon the pursuing armor as Amanda did her weather control thing.

Knowing she was at her limits Malak ‘swirled’ her power at an onrushing attacker. Rapidly spinning magnets can generate electricity. Despite how much she hated that testing lab, she’d found that damn few machines could ’spin’ a magnetic field as quickly as her power let her.

These armor things might conduct electricity harmlessly around its wearer, but if you hit anything with enough current you could short it. Malak had no idea of how much her ’swirling’ generated but it was a lot.

Cringing she added it to her wall. “It, not him, it, not him,” she repeated to herself as she hit yet another coming to kill her.

A drop of sweat splashed onto the concrete where she worked. Maggie’s miniature borers and tunneling machines were making slow headway. The entire thing was a monstrous puzzle of materials, false trails and dead ends.

Her talent told her The Bomb was here but the device’s defenses were built to include shielding from Psi abilities like hers. She’d tried following one of the wiring trunks to the thing but that’d only been another false trail.

A sound behind her made her draw her baton, but instead of an enemy it was even worse. That Doctor with Val’s brother on a gurney.

“What are you doing here?” Maggie demanded.

As Hathaway opened her mouth to respond, another voice cut her off.

“Don’t blame her, it was me,” Gus Glenn said hoarsely.

“I know about the Wildfire bomb. It has every protection Doc could give it just to make sure no one could escape this prison.” He stopped, out of breath.

“The only thing keeping me alive is my energy field now. I might be able to stop the bomb from going nuclear and re-energize myself. Now all of you, go. Even if I succeed, it’s going to get a little ‘hot’ in here,” he finished weakly.

Maggie closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I can’t. If you die, Val, your sister, will never forgive herself.”

“Val? Her name is Val,” he said with a wondering smile.

“Please tell Val, that her brother loves her. Now go. I have no idea of how bad the radiation might be,” he said with clenched teeth, getting weaker.

Leaving her gear right where it was, she gave the doctor a look and both of them rushed out with their doubt mirrored in each other’s faces.

Sapphira’s armor shrugged off another burst of 25mm penetrators. Her return fire blew every fuse in her attacker's armor as the crippled armor fell forward. The stream of disrupter pulses whined as they swept across the endless charging tide of steel. She’d no choice but to try and disable as many of them as she could to thin them out. Two and Four were down and Three had phased them down into the makeshift hospital below them. Five had an armored foe by the leg, using it as a club against the others who swarmed him.

Peter the Great now stood at her side. His overweight appearing strongman, Bob, had been hit with that restraining foam and was badly injured by the Peacemakers' and missiles as he stood helpless until that bacteria ate it away. His blond weapons specialist lost her own weapon and was now using a captured Barrett. The big man with the plant powers who’d freed them from the foam was wounded as well.

One of the students, a young man, lifted the huge mutant like a child, carrying him to safety. When the youngster returned he’d shored up their failing defensive line. The weather controller had whisked the deadly vapors and gas concealed in the foam away on her winds as well as calling down the lightning. Another with magnetic powers was throwing lightning of her own even as she built ramparts by magnetizing the dead suits, sticking them together like Legos. The child with the stretching power repeatedly dragged the wounded and hurt out of harm’s way with one arm while battling the armored suits with the other.

There were other more heart rending acts of bravery that she couldn’t see, but she knew was being faithfully recorded by her armor. Despite all their efforts she knew it wasn’t going to be enough. The UHAB did have elite troops but even more importantly they believed right down to their immortal souls that their cause was just and every mutant was an emissary from Satan himself.

Sapphira crushed a helmet with one fist as she had to let the coils in her gauntlets cool. History told her of the fate of the defenders at Thermopylae, the Alamo and other hopeless last stands. She expected no different here. However, her and Bob’s efforts to make certain that the word and the record of what happened here tonight wouldn’t be buried, forgotten or in vain.

Peter’s telekinetic screen glowed from the nearly continuous wave of blasts hitting it. Napalm, bunker buster warheads, cannon fire, he stopped them all. If not for him they would’ve long ago fallen. But he couldn’t stop the armored fanatics closing in on him. Her disrupters' HUD blinked green. Stepping forward she hosed down the advancing killers with emerald pulses of energy as projectiles sleeted against her armor, forcing her to brace against the impacts to keep her beams on target.

She whispered to herself, “Stranger, Go tell the Spartans.”

Hennessy fell, nearly cut in two by an energy beam. Marine SSG. Henry Green knew the end was nigh. The defenders had been pushed back to the shafts leading downward. His blond foxhole companion had been hit but was still fighting with just one arm.

Unlike her, he couldn’t fire his rifle one handed. Not that it mattered at this range. He grunted, firing from the hip into the advancing mass as he backed away. He was bleeding from a handful of minor cuts and near misses but he knew his luck wouldn’t last forever. Scrambling backwards, he almost tripped over something behind him.

“Awww jeez,” he swore at the frightened huddled kid behind him.

Her blue uniform helped him remember that she was the same kid that'd flown downstairs warning of this impending attack. She must have sneaked back upstairs to see what was happening and in the chaotic hell up here had gotten lost and forgotten.

Kneeling in the scant cover of what used to be a concrete wall, he looked up wondering, why him Lord, why him. Henry Green was a Marine right down to his boot laces, by Gawd, and he considered himself a good man. But, and that was a big but, he’d shot an innocent man today. Not just any man but one that he in his childhood had looked up to, a hero. He’d done the best he could not to rake himself over the coals about it, but it was still there. Orders or not, it was still he, SSG Henry Green US Marine Corps, who’d pulled the trigger.

Maybe that was why he’d stayed out here so long before falling back. He was a sniper for Gawd's sake. Above them the clouds boiled as lightning flashed down and the winds blew angrily. There weren’t nearly as many enemies in there as there had been. Off to the east he could still see the beginning of sunrise, even through the clouds.

He reached out for the kid and she scrambled into his arms with a sob. And for just for a moment he escaped this lost fight, holding her against his filthy, smelly uniform. The Marine couldn’t blame her for her fear. Hell, he was frightened too, but like that poem that he’d heard ages ago, “He had promises to keep and miles to go before he could sleep.”

The way to the stairs where the rest of the rear guard had gathered for their last stand was a no man’s land of deadly beams and shells. They were cut off, but staying here was certain death. It never occurred to him that maybe she was better able to survive what was to come then he. He simply saw a frightened child that needed him.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “I know you’re scared, but I’ve seen how brave you can be. Now you need to be braver than any kid has ever been before. We can’t stay here, but getting somewhere safe is going to be tricky. I’m going to carry you and run as fast as I can. If I trip and fall, you have to get up and run to your friends on your own. Don’t look back, but run as fast as you can. Can you do that?”

Her green eyes looked up at him, still brimming over with tears, but she nodded.

Taking a deep breath, he discarded his rifle. Gathering her up, he stood, sheltered by the wall that rocked and swayed with all the fire hitting it, blowing away chunks.

Looking for their best chance, he swept the area intently for the safest way. Finally, he whispered, “Are you ready, Sweetheart?”

At her nod, he sprinted forward.

The Marine used every bit of knowledge and skill he had to weave and throw off the aim of the men seeking to kill them. Heart pounding in his chest; almost there! Then in almost slow motion he began to fall. He felt the wetness running down his leg but no pain.

With all of his strength he threw her forward as he fell. “Fly baby fly!”

He couldn’t keep the silly smile from his lips as she soared upwards, but then he hit the ground. Curious, he looked at the blood, but he still didn’t feel any pain. Perhaps that was the best he could hope, but then it came to him that wasn’t it. “The best was that little girl just might have a chance to live,” he thought, as his eyes closed for the last time.

Lizzie knew she should’ve stayed downstairs where she’d been told, but she wanted to help. Just like she had fighting the monsters in the video games, and that big scary glowing thing.

But it was so different with all the fire and explosions. It was simply too much for her, too much for anyone. Everyone was so busy they didn’t have time for her. She’d gotten scared and tried to hide. Then that man had almost fell over her. He was really dirty and he smelled, but held her and tried to help.

Now she was flying away from all that bad stuff. She knew she wasn’t supposed to look back but she did. He just laid there, unmoving. Lizzie knew somehow he wasn’t going to get back up again. More tears racked her, she was just a little girl! This wasn’t supposed to happen to her.

But she wasn’t just a little girl. Lizzie had changed and gotten stronger. She could fly now, and she could play rough. Even with a really big kid like Malik and not get hurt.

Down there she could see those scary big metal robot thingies fighting her friends, Amanda, Malak, Billie and the boys. She knew in her heart that like the smelly man who’d helped, they wouldn’t be getting back up if they fell.

A loud roar made her look up. One of those helicopter things was shooting at her! Startled, she froze as it shot at her. She could see the men inside looking at her, but all the bullet things just bounced off, whizzing away.

In their eyes she saw that same mean look like Jeffrey had, he who’d terrorized her so long ago in school, but in theirs it was even worse. They wanted to hurt her and even liked it. In her mind, things connected. Looking down at that gun still shooting at her, she smiled. They couldn’t hurt her, but she could hurt them. But that caused her to frown, remembering that talk she had with Mr. Glenn who was now Miss Val.

She didn’t want to be a bully but she had to stop them from hurting anyone ever again. Earlier she’d seen Miss Val fly right through a flying saucer thing. She could do that!

Meanwhile the helicopter had opened a door and let one of those big fireworks things fly at her. It’d made a bigger boom and the noise was scary, but other than knock her back in the air a little, it didn’t hurt.

Her six year old face got hard. No more bullies!

Like a 40 lb missile, she smashed through the RAH-66, tearing it in two.

As it fell, Lizzie could see more bullies. She flashed towards them, the sun rising behind her.

To be Continued.

Chapter 58

Colonel Randolph Hodges felt his guts twist, feeling ill. It wasn’t suppose to be like this! He had ships down all over the place, and the carnage on the ground among his troopers was even worse. This far exceeded his worst-case scenario, and to make matters perfect, he’d totally lost command and control.

Comms were completely out because, impossibly, the ultra secured system was virused. All he had command of now was his own aircraft and the three ship special munitions flight with him.

His vantage point from above the battle told him his boys would succeed but the price would be high. The pride of ULTIMATE’s armed forces would be a spent unit afterwards. The biggest problem would be if their cover story would hold up in the face of such casualties.

Hell, he would be lucky to command a desk after this was over! On the other hand, Area 61’s boil would finally be lanced. Its abominable research into creating and empowering these gene-warped freaks ended forever. After it was gone, the world would be a safer place for the human race. Even his career, as much as it pained him, wasn’t too great a price to pay.

Signaling the special munitions flight, he directed his pilots to get into the fight. One of the advantages of his boys being in power armor was they had full NBC, nuclear, bio-hazard and chemical, weapons protection. Normally Area 61 would be protected from such weapons too, but the smart bomb bunker busters these three ships carried would take care of that. They could crack even those heavily shielded elevator shafts, letting the deadly cocktail of chemicals and bio-weapons in to do their business. Next, the radiological bombs would make this whole place too hot for any living creature for the next several hundred years.

As a finishing touch, if the freak was still alive, there was a special present just for Number Five of SRT-One. The special armor piercing munitions would crack even that mutant’s hide, letting the freak’s radioactive blood add to the contamination. It was fitting that the mu-tainted served humankind’s future with its death.

“Let’s do it!” the Colonel ordered, his troops going into the valley of death.

Courtney hugged herself, knowing the truth in her heart but so afraid of admitting it. She, Techie and James had reached the elevator that even now was ascending. However her thoughts were of the man they’d left down there all alone. She might be a blind and selfish bitch, but never a coward. Full of second thoughts, her telepathy reached for her patient.

“Why hello there,” he answered her. “Are you three safe yet?”

Still denying that she knew the answer, she asked, “Why?”

“Why am I asking or why I misled you?” He asked for clarification.

Her silence told him which it was.

Capt. Blazzar replied, “All my life I’ve tried to do the right thing; for my brother; for my friends; and even for the world. What happened? I failed them all!”

“I turned into some kind of monster and killed the very ones I loved the most. All I remember are only flashes, but those along with no one wanting to tell me what happened, makes me certain it’s me who’s responsible.

“Val told me that it was Doc and La Dirty Feet that’s guilty, but it was still me who did the deed,” the teen sent to her full of anguish.

Courtney devoted her life to understanding how the human body and mind worked. Her doctorates in genetics and psychology, among others, were proof of her drive, but it wasn’t because of any desire to heal. She’d helped and aided many with her talents and knowledge but that was secondary to her control freak mania to manipulate those about her.

She, the master manipulator, met her match in Alan Glenn. Somehow he, with a deft touch any surgeon would envy, made her take a good hard look at herself. Over the past few weeks she found herself questioning everything that she once sought to achieve. Looking into that mirror, and seeing what was reflected therein, made her turn her face away.

Here, now, touching this young man who was in such pain, not only from his terminal injuries, but of his heart and soul, she saw just how far she’d fallen. Reaching out with her abilities again she looked not to heal his body, but his spirit.

Most importantly of all, she did it out of no other reason than compassion. That was something that only a few short weeks before would’ve been beyond her.

Without words, but a communication at a deeper level than she’d ever dared before, she showed him what his inner-most self looked like and that it was nothing to ashamed of. Next came what she knew of General Lafitte and what she’d scanned of Doctor McClellan. Of their willingness to sacrifice others for their own causes whether it be because of misguided nationalism or the altar of science. Not pulling any punches she gave him all she knew of Project Meridian. The fate of his teammates and what had happened since.

He took all that she gave him without incrimination or finger pointing. Then he asked about his sibling, Alan, who was now known as Val.

Courtney wished she knew more, but she hadn’t even known Val’s name until Techie told them. She showed him of her first meeting with Alan Glenn on a hot summer day in Charlotte. Of how he took a group of kids taken from their parents and helped, protected and nurtured them. His courage in facing down General Laramie with his ready wit and humor.

She showed Gus her own discovery of Alan’s hidden femininity when she object-read his battered racing jacket. In truth she’d never seen Val’s face but had only the impressions that Alan made upon her. Ones that had made her question her motivations and her life.

He then answered her question of why. He hadn’t lied but he did mislead her. His mutant power of energy manipulation was the only thing keeping him alive. However, Gus’s energy reserves were seriously depleted by his recent ordeals. The energy field could be recharged, but like a battery, a trickle of energy worked best. Gus could moderate nuclear reactions in a controlled setting but that was orders of magnitude different from trying to stop the out of control chain reaction that was a nuclear explosion.

It was remotely possible that he might’ve lasted long enough for her to remove all that shrapnel and begin healing, but the Bomb changed all of that. He was the only one that might be able to save all of those people topside, but he honestly doubted that it would change him back into Kiloton. Then, his own energy field was literally so overcharged that it’d gone into a kind of critical mass of its own causing him to transform. This time the heat and radiation would finish killing him long before that happened again.

Besides he was a hero and this was what heroes did.

Even timeless moments must end and Courtney opened her eyes to see Techie watching her speculatively. James was lost in his own thoughts worrying about his own survival.

Courtney found a tear rolling down her cheek and then another followed. Most women dreamed of finding their soul mate. The one man that more than any other fulfilled and complemented them, that knight in shining armor. Being a telepath she’d always scoffed at such silly notions. She knew what men were really like.

Gus Glenn wasn’t her soul mate or even the perfect match, but he was closer than any other she’d ever met. And he was going to die. There was nothing she could do that would change that. She felt such an irrational jealousy of that teenage girl, Kat. She’d died so many years before, but had called Gus hers and loved him.

Once she started, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing; for herself and her wasted life. For Gus Glenn who could’ve been able to help her redeem herself and the life they might’ve had together.

Maggie wrapped her arms around the crying woman, trying to comfort her. She suspected something like this when she’d seen how intently Dr. Hathaway tried to save Val’s brother. The look in the woman doctor’s eyes when he’d urged them to flee confirmed that suspicion.

Smiling sadly, she knew all too well how quickly one of the Glenn boys could steal your heart. Even when one of them was really a girl. That’d so confused her when she’d first met Alan. Maggie had always known she was bisexual, leaning more towards other women rather than men. With this man, it was different with lust, love, and everything else all rolled into one. From their first meeting, what she felt defied everything she knew about herself. When Alan revealed Val to her, things began to make sense.

The more they found out about each other the more they found things they had in common. From the beginning, Maggie found Alan Glenn a complex person. Like an onion, the deeper you went, the more layers you found. For nearly twenty years she’d peeled away Val’s layers, and although frustrating at times, she never regretted one moment.

Holding the sobbing scientist, she’d never been more thankful she’d taken that chance. Her life might have many regrets yet in store for her, but not daring to open her heart to love wouldn’t be one of them.

Maggie’s heart ached for her own love, and the pain she knew was coming. Val had just found her brother and now he was going to die. Part of her wondered if things could get any worse, but was afraid to tempt fate any further. So much had happened in this one night, who knows what other bad news waited around the corner. They were trapped on top of a Bomb by the one group of people that would cheerfully kill them all without a second thought, out numbered hundreds to one and cut off from the outside world without any chance of calling for help. It did not look good.

The only positive thing she could see about this mess, is that in the long run, this would help their cause. Twenty years ago the writing was on the wall for anyone who cared to look. Sentiment even then was starting to rise against mutants. Now there were laws restricting and limiting their basic civil rights.

ULTIMATE turned from an international agency designed to keep mutants from being used by the world’s nations as weapons, to become Gestapo-like Sturmtruppen, enforcing those laws pushing mutants into 2nd class citizenship for the crime of being born different.

It was ironic that the very political forces that caused ULTIMATE to come into existence were the very ones that might save mutants now. Area 61 sure as hell wasn’t the only place on earth where research on mutants was still being conducted. The power Supra-humans represented was simply too great for any nation to ignore. It came down to National Security interests versus the fanatical human purists and supremacists.

How those fanatics must have crowed at what they thought was a golden opportunity to strike at those interests. Still it’d taken big brass ones to attack a not so secret US military base. The USA was still a superpower and wielded immense political influence.

For this to succeed, not one word of what really happened could get out. They had to make absolutely sure no one would be able to poke around here looking for clues to punch holes in their story. The arrogance was astounding but typical.

Maggie thought she might be able to make certain that the word got out no matter if she survived or not. No doubt ULTIMATE’s uber-fuhrers had a cover story prepared just in case things fell apart, but every little bit helped. Just curbing the mutant haters’ power for a few years would help, because every year there were more and more mutants being born.

Not that long ago, there weren’t even enough to count as a minority. They were just oddities like in some sideshow. That’d changed, and was still changing as mutants became more common. If you thought the minority demonstrations during the sixties were something, baby you ain’t seen nothing yet, Maggie promised herself.

“But first things first,” she thought as the elevator’s doors opened.

Gus Glenn laid his head back, concentrating on keeping calm. His breathing really didn’t matter at this point because he knew only his energy field was keeping him alive. If he wanted to last long enough to try and stop that Bomb, he needed to keep expenditures to a minimum.

The waiting was always the hard part. His studies here at Area 61, back when he was being groomed as the perfect little soldier, had gone over many accounts from conflicts spanning thousands of years. They all said the same thing. Waiting was the pits. His own experience as a teenage supra-hero taught him that much was a universal truth.

Pushing his thoughts away from that, he recalled his telepathic conversation with Dr. Hathaway. He too felt the attraction between them, but his heart still belonged to Kat. The perky minx who could get him to smile no matter how bad things got. Who was dead, he mourned. Dead because of him, along with everyone he had held dear, except for his brother who was now his sister.

Courtney Hathaway had helped him with his grief and guilt. He and his friends were ruthlessly used by their country. In spite of knowing that, it still hurt, and maybe him trying to be the hero one more time was his way of making things right.

However he couldn’t help thinking how Doug and Jeff would’ve reacted seeing his little brother Alan now. The dirt smudged face and battle scarred uniform she’d worn couldn’t disguise the fact his sister was all grown up as well as beautiful. Yeah, the guy’s mouths would’ve hit the ground. Not to mention Kat and Joyce would’ve gone nuts over their newest recruit to girlhood.

He knew he wasn’t suppose to know, but the girls had kidnapped his little brother from time to time for makeovers and fashion shows. He and the boys studiously ignored Alan’s absence as they got on with serious stuff like sports and the trouble teenage boys always got into.

Smiling at the memories, he felt someone come into the room.

The man had the scent of cigar smoke on his Air Force uniform, but even though haggard and older, Gus recognized him at once. “Hey, it’s Lt. Laramie,” he rasped.

The much older man growled back, “It’s General, Cadet Glenn.”

Gus had to smile again despite the pain. He could still pull this man’s chain, General or not. “Still sore I outranked you since I was Captain Blazzar, Lieutenant?”

A vein pulsed in the old man’s face. “You did not! It was a courtesy rank. You were a Cadet after you signed the papers enrolling in the Air Force.”

Still smiling Gus replied, “Only after you lied to me saying I was going to be kicked out of here as well as separated from my brother and friends if I didn’t.”

Pulling himself up straight, Laramie brought up the pistol he had in his fist. “I did what I had to do, to fulfill my duty. Just like I am now.”

His eyes on the gun, Gus rasped out, “You might want to hold off on that. I might be able to fizzle the Bomb down here.”

Lying-to-me-Laramie cocked the hammer of the pistol back, “Why? So you can turn back into that monster? I don’t think so!”

Gus knew he didn’t have the energy to spare to defend himself. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. No way I’ll be able absorb enough energy fast enough to reach that point before it kills me. Last time it only happened because my energy field was somehow overcharged from that last Zap by Doc, and went into critical mass myself.”

Holding the pistol steady Laramie asked, “Why would you do that, and why should I believe you?”

If it didn’t hurt so much to laugh, Gus would have, but he replied, “Because there’re people up there that are trapped and can’t get out. If this Bomb goes off they’re going to die.”

Fighting to get out his words, teen whispered, “I don’t lie, never have. You know that. After all, You gave me such a great example of what not to be.”

Showing every one of his years, the old man tiredly let his arm drop. “You don’t understand. You never did.” Taking a deep breath he let it out. “Save them if you can, but I warn you, if I see any sign you’re changing I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes. You understand Cadet?” he said, trying to regain his old bluster.

Closing his eyes in weariness and pain Gus breathed out, “Yes sir, four bags full. You do know that you’re a mite close to ground zero, right?”

Laramie may have grunted, but Gus knew the explosion was coming soon. He didn’t have any more time to waste arguing with Laramie of all people. Stretching out with his depleted powers, he began the meditation that helped him visualize a world invisible to most humans.

He could literally see the energy about him. Streams of electrons flowing through the wiring; heat radiating from the light fixtures, and down below them, the Bomb. Despite its shielding, he could sense above normal background radiation coming from it.

Gus considered for a moment of trying to mess with the electrical ‘web’ his sight showed supplying the Bomb. Deactivating the damn thing would be preferable. However he decided against it. Doc was just too damn tricky for him to risk it because as weak as he was, there would be only one shot at this. Better for him to use it against the one process Doc couldn’t influence once it’d begun.

He’d waited to the last minute because all he would be able to do was temporarily affect the particles, hoping to prevent a full critical chain reaction, turning it into what physicists called a ‘fizzle.’ Still releasing a hell of a lot of radiation and death, but falling short of a fission reaction.

In his tests, Doc Mac told him to see it like dominoes; one falls over knocking over two more, which makes four others fall. What he’d had done was push some of those dominoes out of the way so the falling one had nothing to hit. It sounded so easy, but there were millions of these particles suddenly flying about, sending billions more loose. He’d managed to disrupt the process in that test but it hadn’t been easy.

Now here he was, injured and dying, about to try it again. Gus Glenn wasn’t a quitter and in those last moments he gave all he had to give. More intuitively than consciously, he touched the radioactive materials and started trying to keep the energetic particles stable.

The amount of radiation the bomb emitted plummeted as he dampened the reactions. Then it detonated.

Pushing the pain away, Val didn’t dare put any weight on her leg for fear of it collapsing. Not being able to use her supra-speed on the ground was really going to cramp her style. She’d crashed through the shields on another of those damn saucers, taking it out, but one of the survivors blasted her leg, but good.

She’d found out the hard way that supra-fast running did not translate into supra-fast flight. She might not be all that slow in the air but it was a damn sight slower than the Mach 1 plus she could push with her boots on terra-firma.

What she did still have was Slow-Time, letting her make the most out of every last millisecond on the ground or in the air. Back during the invasion she hadn’t had this hard of a time with these things. Accelerating to supersonic, she’d used a contraption of Maggie’s to redirect her momentum from horizontal into the vertical. Zooming pass the defensive patrol of saucers, she went right through the shields of the bombardment ship. Once inside it’d been a turkey shoot. Grays just weren’t prepared to repel a boarding action.

Maggie by radio directed her where to go and what to wreck. It’d gotten a little hairy in places. However, she’d gotten clear before that big mother popped the great granddaddy of all circuit breakers and went down. All of their fighter-craft flying air cover dropped out of the sky when Big Mama bit the big one.

At the time, most people thought it was because they used some kind of broadcast power, but the real answer was simpler. The internal explosions killed a lot of the invaders. The aliens were telepathic and had that group mind thing going. Overloaded by a good portion of their group mind dying, the rest went comatose from the trauma. Maggie said it was much like the cascade effect of a power grid burning out once the mother-ship in orbit blew, starting the process.

The captured Grays were almost to the last, from the warrior caste. Losing their superior supporting brainpower from the rest of the group-mind, the warriors either stayed in a coma or became lone wolves. The latter were dangerous on a individual level but not a serious threat to humanity as a whole. Lacking the correct nutritional supplements, they too passed away after a year or so, unlike Ollie who’d learned how to formulate his own. All the invasion left behind were a lot folks grieving for their lost loved ones and loads of alien wrecks full of technology.

Dancing away from another volley of green destruction, she wished that ULTIMATE had been a little less quick to pirate the captured booty. Maybe they weren’t able to reliably duplicate it, but they sure as hell learned how to use it!

Pulling herself into a tight ball, she bounced off one passing SPAD’s shields, careening nearly out of control as her enemies came closer and closer to boxing her in. Her maneuverability had kept her alive so far, but the ULTIMATE pilots had numbers and faster machines. Listening to her Luck, she let gravity help her, diving straight down at the ground again.

Her friend Jeff Fortune was much better at riding the luck, as he called it, than she’d ever been. Perhaps it was just an unwillingness on her part to throw herself completely at the mercy of chance. Even still, she’d learned to listen to the song it sang even if she didn’t lose herself in it. For the last few minutes it’d sang of something momentous getting ready to happen. She was like a character in a movie being able to listen to the soundtrack as it foreshadowed some oncoming event.

Out of nowhere, she slammed into the Rocket as it zoomed in underneath her! The old silver and red paint job was scorched and burnt from all the near misses but the old machine was still giving ULTIMATE a run for their money. Val scrambled like crazy to keep from being thrown off, trying to use her own flight to link her to it.

In the pilot’s bubble, Ollie flung up a thumbs-up before sending them back into a near vertical corkscrewing climb. The pack of pursuing saucers dodged madly as Ollie manically charged through them, heading into the blue on the other side of the stormy clouds.

She could see her friend’s insane tactics bought them some time but looking down at the fighters, pulling hard turns and climbs of their own, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. The first SPADs were already climbing back onto their six.

Hanging on for dear life, as Ollie put on a dazzling show of acrobatics inspired as only running for your very life can, Val heard her Luck’s song nearing its end. Tears ran down her face inside her helmet, but suddenly splashed against the face plate as Ollie rolled The Rocket like a spinning top, throwing off the aim of more green energy beams lancing all about them.

There were just too many of them for an unarmed old rebuilt saucer and a wounded one armed, one legged woman, no matter how powerful she was. Knowing her end was upon her, Val gave herself at last to her Luck, sinking into Slow-Time as deep as she could. Just maybe Ollie would abandon this hopeless fight with her gone. Perhaps he could even save the kids she loved so much too.

Letting her talent guide her, she let herself slide almost off the edge, a bolt of Gray-made green lightning struck her but most of the power of the blow glanced off her screen. Looking behind them, she saw one SPAD that so caught her attention it seemed to almost have a spotlight upon it. In slow motion, it lined itself behind them, and she knew that this was the one. Turning to face Ollie in his bubble, Val smiled, sending off all of her love for the friendship they shared.

Even the speed of thought crawled, this deep into Slow-Time, as she felt his puzzlement and then his alarm. At her Luck’s cue, still smiling, she released her grip upon The Rocket and threw herself into the path of the emerald volley of death meant for her friend.

Ollie felt his heart skip a beat as he saw his friend shielding them with her body. Then he felt Val’s message. There were no words. Just the love and friendship they’d shared for so many years. At first he was confused by it, as he was busily trying to fight them free of the pack of vicious predators snapping at their heels.

Then his heart stopped altogether in horror when the Gray saw her slip free and fall into the oncoming blasts.

He slammed The Rocket into a hard bank, looking for signs of his friend. The pack of killers had split to the left and right, spiraling down after her, leaving only two to go after him. It was clear that Val was their target and they meant to make sure of her death.

He discarded one plan after another for rescuing her as the numbers told him the truth he refused to acknowledge. As a child he could do nothing, as his parents died in this very same saucer. Later, he was helpless to stop Gus from transforming into Kiloton and murdering his own friends. Even worse he, the telepath, was unable to help Jeff as he destroyed himself with guilt. Now it was happening again.

Big Mac over their interface queried, “Ollie? There is nothing more we can do. We must think of the others.”

The grief-stricken Gray was about to reply when suddenly a huge ball of light erupted from the ground, racing upwards towards his friend! The Rocket’s gravitics went haywire and Ollie was abruptly fighting for control. A part of him noticed the ULTIMATE killers were even in more dire straits, as their pilots fought the same battle without the aid of his direct neuro-interface.

The gravitic anomaly unerringly homed in on Val’s falling body, impacting her in a blinding brilliant explosion of light.

“Ollie!” A worried Big Mac warned, as their malfunctioning drive threw them across the sky, out of control .

The explosives crushed the fissionable material into a dense ball. What would had been a carefully calculated fireball designed to take out Area 61 was instead a much smaller one. The radiation and EMP of this bomb was enhanced to kill any life forms and wipe all forms of electronics within the base. That too was much reduced in part due to the nature of the Vaults themselves. Meant from the start to be the most secure storage possible for the most dangerous kinds of projects, they were built as strongly as possible. The only danger to them was the self-destruct device, whose yield was more than enough to take out the vaults and the rest of the base. At the much reduced explosive power caused by Gus Glenn, they were stout enough to contain much of the resultant damage.

The decades worth of accumulated dangerous devices as well as the fusion reactors were untouched by the fireball and so failed to add their power to the explosion. Although smoky and more than a little ‘hot’ from radioactivity, Area 61 survived.

The refugees trapped topside were thrown off their feet but otherwise unharmed. The same could not be said of General Robert Ulysses Laramie. He was vaporized by the still powerful atomic fizzle. Gus Glenn’s body was also flashed to steam, but even so, he almost survived as a disembodied energy field. Energy and matter are after all only different forms of each other.

Gus had estimated his chances of survival without taking into account his last exposure to the Z-Ray 9 and the abilities he’d received from Joyce. It wasn’t quite enough to transform him back into Kiloton but it gave him a few extra seconds the deceased General did not have.

Gus Glenn in his moments remembered how he’d felt when Joyce’s essence had come to him when she’d died. He’d experienced all her fear and pain as if it was his own. She’d been just a scared, frightened young girl, who he’d loved as his little sister. Knowing and feeling how she’d died enraged him to the point of madness.

Somehow he knew that Alan, Val now, would receive his essence now in the same way. He was certain he didn’t want his beloved younger sister to feel more pain or hurt. With all of his heart, he gathered all of the love and affection he felt and held it tight to him as his final gift to her. Unable to maintain a stable matrix, his energy field flickered and power roared out of him as he died.

Rather than cause yet another explosion, it was promptly sucked up into an indescribable vortex of inter-dimensional limitless potentials, as strange and dark matter swirled like batter in a cosmic mixing bowl. Like lightning drawn to a mountain top it flew, ignoring mere solid matter as inconsequential obstacles to Valentina Zarya Savitskaya.

Multi-dimensional energies raged as potentials and probabilities ran wild. Captain Blazzar’s energy powers and Sensation’s physical powerhouse abilities merged with the ones the person once known as Alan Glenn already carried; The Cat’s speed, acrobatics, and grace; The Sharpshooter’s heightened senses, hand eye coordination, and the precognition/recognition no one knew he had; Fortune’s Luck and probability control, as well as all of their mutant boosted physical characteristics. All of those were added to Alan’s own supra-speed, healing and physical prowess. Each and every one of them enhanced by Dr. McClellan’s Z-Ray, not once, but many times, making The Rocketeers some of the most formidable supra-metas of their time.

Last but not least was the young girl with no name. Saul Simpson’s clone of Elizabeth Tyree. A shadow made whole by the energies pumped into her by the Z-Ray, she’d died when the device’s full power had been turned upon her, striving to make her even more powerful. It was an attempt to make perhaps one of the most powerful mutants of her generation even more powerful. One that’d failed and the more powerful setting added her matrix to the mix along with the others.

All of that poured into the woman who had made many life changing choices during her life, the decision to be the woman her heart told her she was, the resolve to help others avoid the same fate as herself. But perhaps the most important choice of all was giving every last bit of herself to her Luck in order to save her friends and companions.

The most likely outcome was for her to simply cease to be. It was just too much for anyone, anything to handle. She would unravel like rotten cloth. The next possibility was to almost contain it and explode, dwarfing the one Kiloton had so recently caused. However all of that hadn’t reckoned on the probability-slaying power of Fortune. Valentina had at last surrendered to That-Which-Mangles-All-The-Odds. Then like the song said, Anything Goes.

The seven different patterns merged into one. No more would they be bits and parts, separate from her, but now one single archetype that is so much more than the sum of their beginnings. Her years of going back and forth between Alan and Val in a kind of pseudo-shape shifting gave her yet another gift. Now she really did possess the form changing talent, but unlike Billie, her choices of physical form were limited to mixing and matching those characteristics of her power donors.

All this happened as she fell to earth. The Gray-built drives powering the craft about her teetered near failure as the fabric of multidimensional space itself was disrupted by the event.

Still blazing with a corona of transformational energy, Valentina Zarya Savitskaya fell to the earth strangely gently, as the fading power warped the physical laws about her. As the last glimmers of that eccentric light vanished, she opened her eyes.

Val found herself in nearly a perfectly smooth circular depression that gleamed with a mirror’s perfection. Her armored black uniform was in torn tatters. The smell of ozone wafted about her as she blinked away her confusion. Pulling off her ruined helmet, she shook her head, trying to shake away her cobwebs. A wistful sadness filled her and she tried to remember why.

Memories not her own came to her. Of the activated nuke ticking away under their feet. Of her brother realizing that he couldn’t stop it, but might possibly be able to keep it from hurting others, like a soldier throwing himself on a grenade to save his comrades. The final gift of caring and love that he sent to her knowing he was going to die.

Tears welled up again. So much had happened in such a short time. It started as a tiny grain but grew in strength and power until it filled her to overflowing.

“My brother is dead!” Valentina Zarya Savitskaya screamed her grief to the stormy heavens.

Power flowed out of her, lifting her into the sky on a pillar of incandescent fire. Anger and sorrow tore out of her as she blazed like a new star. The storm clouds above her spontaneously vaporized, clearing a halo of crisp blue sky crowning her grief.

The saucers that’d so persistently hunted her came for her yet again. Wobbling in the air but stubbornly persistent, they opened fired. This time it was their blasts that splashed uselessly upon her defenses, unable to get past her blazing corona of fire.

A wave of her hand sent a scorching ball of super heated plasma at one, turning it into a flaming wreck. Fury filled her! They wanted to kill her? She would show them killing! The energy burning about her blazed white as she gathered even more power to her.

“Val, no!” A voice tried to reach her. “Don’t give in to your anger! Don’t make Gus’s mistake. Don’t let it control you!”

She shook her head, wanting only to hurt those who’d cause her pain.

“It’s Ollie, Val,” he pleaded with her. “Please don’t do this!”

Val could see exactly how to do it. All she would have to do is twist the energy just like so.

Lost in her pain, she didn’t notice the flying object until it was almost right on top of her. In reflex she almost lashed out at it.

“Miss Val?” Lizzie asked worriedly. “Are you all right?” The little girl hovered in front of her.

The simple caring question made her stop doing something that would have harmed friend and foe alike. Oh Gawd she hurt. All these years, and now after finding her brother alive, she’d lost him forever. A whisper reminded her of the love Gus sent along with this latest quickening. He would always be with her.

Lizzie continued on. “I’ve been help’en stop the bullies from hurting anyone but there’re so many!”

“Val?” Ollie asked mentally.

The grieving woman managed at last. “I’m okay Ollie. I’m not about to go blowing up everything, but Lizzie has a point about these bullies of hers. If you would excuse me, I think she could use some help.”

Smiling wanly at the 6 year old, she replied, “I’m alright Lizzie, but you’re right about all those bullies. Why don’t you and I do something about that?”

The V-22c Tilt-rotor roared towards its targets. Turbulence from the unnatural weather jerked the lead ship around, as the flight of three specially armed dropships followed.

Colonel Randolph Hodges stared at his instruments as they counted down the range. His ground forces had forced the mutie scum back to the very gates of Area 61. The next step was for his special weapon birds to make their deliveries. The Bio-weapons and gas had to be put precisely on target due to the local weather conditions that damn mutant girl had stirred up. Being heavier than air, the deadly agents would sink down into this gene-tainted demon’s lair of traitors to the human race.

He wasn’t sure what had happened behind him when he’d lost contact with his SPAD interceptors. Their superior equipment let him have some contact but now he’d lost that to.

With a loud pop, an electrical shock threw him back into his seat, his panel died!

“No!” he yelled. He knew his career and reputation were going to be trashed because of this, but let it not be for nothing.

“Launch!” he commanded in panic.

His pilot yelled back at him. “We can’t! Everything is out. Power and both engines are dead! Brace for impact!”

It was an axiom that pilots never use the word crash. Auger in, impact zone, and every other word in the dictionary, but not crash. The crushing blow as his V-22c impacted knocked the breath right out of him.

Wiping the blood from a cut to his head away he staggered out of the wreck. It was too damn bad that he couldn’t wear a Peacemaker. Although a talented operator could do just about anything an unarmored man could in one, the fine dexterity necessary to use the Command, Communications and Control, C3, equipment was impossible. Not only for him but for his staff as well. If he’d been wearing a suit he wouldn’t have suffered a scratch. Up ahead, he saw a few hated mutants come out of their hole in the ground. They were looking skyward and so he followed their gaze.

A flying woman and a girl mu-tainted were sweeping across the battlefield. As they flew the woman sprayed crackling beams from her hands at his brave men in their machines. They didn’t explode or burst into flames but their war machines fell into useless heaps as they ceased working.

Another ‘NO’ echoed from deep in his soul. This couldn’t be happening. They’d come so close!

A choking sound made him turn around. His aide, Major Baka, had fallen, his face locked into a mask of pain as he suffocated.

Panicked the Colonel looked around him and saw to his horror that the special mission aircraft had all crashed around his. Oh my Gawd, the Bio-weapons! One of them must have gotten damaged in the crash. Turning, he made not three steps before he too fell, gasping for precious air. Then there was only darkness and the fate he’d earned.

Chapter 59
Maggie practically ran up the short flight stairs to the surface. She’d left Dr. Hathaway behind in the bloody abattoir where the medics worked vainly to save as many lives as they could. The temporary ward was overrun with wounded airmen and other defenders

She recognized Katrina from Sanctuary, as the person who’d refused payment for the rings she and Val couldn’t wear in public. Now, that gifted artist laid with the doctors, fighting for her life.

Maggie passed Val’s young student Josh as he ran down the stairs, not recognizing her in his hurry. Her own heartbeat quickened in her concern for her love as the stench of battle hit her like a physical force. The smoke, blood, and death lay heavy even as the first drops of rain begin to fall.

Once again she tried text and voice, but Val didn’t answer. Fearing the worst, she tried The Rocket. “Ollie,” She radioed. “This is Maggie! Please respond.”

“Damn it!” She knew that mostly likely anything not line of sight would still be out, but she’d hoped that her own much tweaked system would be able to get through.

A little frantic she tried her last resort, her own weak telepathy. Maggie’s power was hell on wheels with machines but not so much with people. In her favor, she and Ollie had ‘spoken’ frequently mind to mind. She hoped that’d formed a link even her very modest talent could bridge.

“Ollie!”

“No need to yell,” he replied. “We’re still a little busy out here.”

Maggie tried to control herself. “Is Val all right? The idiots activated that damn Bomb. Gus managed to fizzle it, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I don’t think he survived, but right after the explosion, gravity behaved really weirdly.”

Projecting calmness, Ollie sent back, “I surmised as much. That ‘weird event’ of yours was Val’s quickening. It manifesting disrupted The Continuum in more ways than I care to imagine. Val received her brother’s abilities as well as his last memories it appears. She’s aware of Gus’s death.”

She cut in, demanding, “But is she alright?”

Off to her right a pair of hulking Peacemaker suits moved, with their weapons at the ready. Touching each one, she shorted out the high-tech war machines' power systems. Frozen and helpless, the soldiers within popped the ‘hatch’ to escape their iron coffins.

“Thank you Maggie,” Ollie said. “Those two were getting too close. I was concerned I was going to have to have to ask one of the others to intervene. Your and Val’s methods are to be preferred. There has been too much death today.”

Maggie knew that must mean her love was alright, but she needed to hear the words. “Ollie! Is Val okay?”

The Gray gave a mental sigh. “It was a near thing. After her quickening, her grief pushed her into nearly making a terrible mistake. Fortunately for all of us, we have a certain six year old to thank.”

Looking at the burning wreckage of the battlefield, as she picked her way through the ruins, she replied, “Lizzie? What was she doing out in this?”

She could feel the sadness in Ollie’s reply. “Like any child, she wanted to help, and she got lost in the turmoil. One of the soldiers tried to help her get to safety but died in the attempt. Caught in the open, Lizzie discovered that most of these weapons could not hurt her. Val sometime ago gave her a talk about bullies and it seems she decided that was what ULTIMATE was.”

Maggie felt a lump in her throat, “Oh my Gawd, did she …”

Ollie smoothed her fears, “No, she flew through their aircraft, but didn’t directly kill anyone. I have no doubt however that some of those pilots died, regardless of how survivable those pilot stations are, when their aircraft went down.

“When Val’s transformation lit up the sky, Lizzie went to see what’d happened. Our dear friend was so lost in her grief she wouldn’t listen to my pleas. Of course, her attackers only made everything worse. Lizzie flew right into the middle of it and was able to help.”

Maggie’s own heart felt like it was breaking knowing the pain her love was suffering. “Where is she Ollie?”

She could sense the Gray’s sighing again. “Val and Lizzie are sweeping the area, neutralizing any remaining holdouts. Our friend is using it as a kind of therapy for Lizzie and I think it is good for them both.

“That’s what I have been doing, directing them to those who pose the greatest threat. Using Blazzar’s powers she’s damping the armor’s power supply, remarkable.”

Maggie breathed out seeing Ollie’s point. “Okay, I get the point you’re trying to make. I’ll give her some space. In the mean time I’ll play backstop, deal?”

Ollie sent back, “Deal. I know you are concerned about her, but they are helping each other. At the rate they are covering the area it will not be long in any case.

“Be careful out there. Their grenade launchers were armed with restraining foam and chemical agents. You have a group approaching 59 meters away at an azimuth 270 degrees.”

“Affirmative, 59 meters at 270,” she acknowledged. The sooner they finish this the sooner she gets to hold her love in her arms.

Billie climbed up the stairs, peering out cautiously. Peter, the guy with the force screen, was already outside. He sent Josh for Malak, Amanda and that big guy that could make plants grow. Something about containing some kind of toxic bad stuff from some of those crashed dropships.

Looking up, a huge fat drop of rain splashed on her face. At first just a few fell, but it was clear warning a downpour was on the way. Off in the distance she saw Val and Lizzie still flying around, blasting anyone still moving. Malak said their teacher was using something that shorted out everything it hit.

A few guys from those disabled powered armor suits managed to crawl out of them but they didn’t look in any shape to continue the fight. Not that there was anyone on their side in too much shape to fight either. Those guys with that woman in the gold armor, Number One, had really gotten badly hurt.

Billie had to turn her head from the still form of a marine who had fallen just a few yards away. There was no need to see if he was still alive. Not with that wound. Too many of the Air Force security cops were out here too. Nearly all who were still alive were wounded and downstairs being worked on by the doctors and nurses.

Billie wasn’t sure what she was feeling but she knew that these people had to pay for what they had done. Checking on her friends, they were concerned and worried over that crash. She was sure that she couldn’t be of much use helping with that. However, she could keep an eye on those guys down there.

Moving to a better spot to watch them, she called down to them. “This is over. Help whoever out there that need it, but if you try and start something, I will take you out,” she warned.

Hearing her demands they looked around for her. Hidden among the ruins, Billie was in a spot no normal human could manage, using her pliability power to make herself fit.

One of them, who looked to be a sergeant or an officer, took a gun from one of those suits. He turned, yelling to the others, “It’s not over, till it’s over! Move your asses!”

Billie sighed. Well she did warn them.

Much like many months before with Austin the butt head, her fist flashed out, catching the troublemaker square on the chin. With a dull thump he hit the ground, not knowing what had hit him. It’d happened so fast, most had seen only a glimpse of something rattlesnake fast striking out.

She stretched to another cranny. “Anyone else want a nap?” she asked.

Sapphira Heron wearily closed her eyes. Her HUD was a mass of flashing red and amber fault lights. Taking a deep breath, she hit the emergency sequence that safely shut down her overheating reactor. It's coolant system was shot and had been running only because of her command overrides.

Darkness filled her vision as her helm's seals cracked, hissing as she removed it. Lifting her face to the rain falling from the heavens, Sapphira hoped, wished, prayed that her sins of this morning could be washed away.

A short distance away, Joachim, Number Five no longer, sat on a chunk of broken rubble. A tired wave of a hand answered her unasked question if he was alright. Robert, for once without a smart-assed comment to make, simply stood cradling his injured arm in a makeshift sling.

Summoning her willpower, Sapphira struggled with her armor’s manual override. One particular area on her armor had taken a brutal beating as more than one of her attackers targeted it. Almost as if they thought it was a vulnerable spot. Weird, because that was the one location she’d reinforced more than any other.

Smiling, she wondered how that could’ve happened. Perhaps she needed to be more careful about leaving handwritten musings lying about. However while it may have saved her life, the damage had jammed her way out of her shot up armor.

“May I?” Someone asked.

Looking up she saw Peter, with his TK screening the falling rain, walking through the gathering puddles to her.

Her voice still hoarse from the battle, she whispered, “Please. Push here and turn ninety degrees counter clockwise.” Gesturing with her hands, she pointed out where.

Shielding her from the rain, he half jumped as her armor fell to pieces. She was left only in the hi-tech jumpsuit-like liner that leeched away sweat and moisture, keeping her relatively comfortable while dressed in steel.

“Don’t worry,” Sapphira told him. “It’s supposed to do that.” She paused. “But only once because no one will ever use my own work against me. Number One is no more. There is only me now, Sapphira Heron. A Greek without a country I‘m afraid. Somehow I don‘t think my former employer is going to let bygones be bygones.”

Stepping close to her, Peter said softy, “You’ll always be the Golden Amazon to me.

Surprising herself with a smile, Sapphira searched his face for why. “Really? I hope you don’t consider this our first date?”

Returning her soul searching expression, he smiled. “Not enough fireworks?”

Her eyebrows rose as she replied, “Oh ‘fireworks’ in abundance, but no, I don’t kiss on first dates.”

Reaching out his arms to her, he asked, “How about hugs?”

Stepping forward into his embrace Sapphira gave her answer.

A short distance away, Joachim nudged Robert, pointing out their boss’s indiscretion.

The short American raised his brow in a questioning invitation, looking at the two standing there as the rain touched them not.

The big German gave him a hard warning glare, but grinned when he realized his comrade was only clowning, again. Shaking his head, Joachim waved his arm, inviting his friend to proceed in front as they both walked away.

Together the two friends left the Russian and the Greek lost in their embrace.

Josh wearily climbed the stairs, wincing at the pain. If there was a spot that wasn’t hurting right now, he didn’t know where. Like everyone else he had cuts and bruises all over, but nothing that required serious care like some others.

The makeshift ward behind him was overflowing with those with much worse. He made himself ignore those white sheet covered forms whose numbers were slowly growing as time passed.

Putting that grim image away, he found Malak waiting for him, sheltered from the pouring rain with a haphazardly rigged awning. “Well we made it in one piece.” They gave each other a one armed grasped hug.

His uniform ripped and torn, in spite of the tough material it was made of, his friend replied, “Yeah, we did. Did you see any of the gang down there?” he asked, with an incline of his head towards the stairs.

Josh understood what Malak was really asking. “No. I don’t think any of our guys are down there. I saw Lizzie with Val, and the last time I saw your sister and Amanda they were fine. I don’t know about Billie. She was doing some pretty wild stuff there at the end. I think she and Maggie were helping to break up any last holdouts, but I haven’t seen either since all those other zoomie cops showed up.

Then he noticed Malik looking off into the distance. Turning about there were the girls, Amanda, Malak, and Billie, dodging the puddles and small streams. Malik’s blue protective screen flickered from the rain running off of it as she kept her companions dry.

Like everyone else they were dirty and disheveled. Josh had never seen such a welcomed sight. Ignoring his discomfort he greeted them with smiles, but his eyes were on Amanda. Hugging her somehow made all of his pains hurt less.

Suddenly they were all hugging each other. He hoped the rain and dirt hid his tears. They’d been through so much and yet they were all still alive!

His time down in that underground hell let him notice the increasing numbers of yet more zoomie soldiers and cops. Mixed with them were lots of beat to crap ULTIMATE guys who were carefully watched by the former.

Malak asked, thinking in a similar vein, “So what are you going to call yourself?”

At Josh’s questioning expression, his friend explained. “Like Ollie asked Teach before all the shooting started. A code name, you know? Hers is Capt. Vroom. To help protect our families and the rest of that superhero jive.”

Josh looked around at the terrible remains of the battle surrounding them. “A little late for that isn’t it?”

Billie got a thoughtful expression. “I don’t know about that. We’re all minors but something like this is going to get out. I’d rather be known by some code name instead of having my family get dragged into this.”

Not able to help himself, Josh asked, “So what are you going to call yourself, Elastic Chick?”

He blushed red at the hard stares from all three girls. “Okay! I’m sorry. Bad joke, alright?”

“Besides not wanting to get in trouble with Disney and their lawyers, that name does not work,” Billie replied. “I really don’t know. Descriptive names for someone with my powers can be really embarrassing, you know what I mean? Maybe one that doesn’t do that might work? How about you Malak since you brought it up?” she asked.

The black teen rubbed his chin. “You’re right about descriptive names, Billie. I was thinking something that would kinda tell about me but confuse the hell out of people all at once.”

“You know how my muscles and skin are like carbon fibers. Doc said something about my bones might be diamond-like from his scans. Well, ‘C’ is the chemical symbol for Carbon which is what all of those things are made of. So what do you think?” Malak asked, looking around.

Doubtfully Amanda answered, “You got the confusion part right. That’s it, just Cee?”

Everyone else but her and Billie broke up laughing. The two of them looked at each other wondering why?

That just made it worse as Josh went red-faced trying to breathe.

Malak managed to stop giggling. “You two really are white girls.” She punched her brother’s arm. “He’s being bad. Cee can mean badass in street speak.”

Ignoring their glares at him, Malik look pleased with himself. “Hey, it works,” he said, flexing an arm, posing.

Billie trying to forget looking so square, suggested, “Hey Josh how about Fadeout or Fade; both are movie making terms? You know, like because you can put pictures in people’s heads, like movies, but can also go invisible.”

Josh looked thoughtful. “That could work. I’ll think about it.”

"What about you Amanda?" He asked the girl in his arms.

Looking up at the storm above them and the rain running off of Malak’s screen, she replied, “I think Storm has already been taken. Marvel comics probably wouldn’t care for me using that one.”

Malak grinned. “I think you could bet on that.” She paused, watching the wind play with her friend’s hair. “How about something having to do with the winds? Isn’t there all kinds different of names for them, like Sirocco?”

Amanda replied smiling, “As long was you don’t call me Windy! But seriously that’s not bad. However, isn’t that a hot dry wind blowing from Africa? I tend to do the cold thing.”

Josh volunteered, “What about Mistral? I think that’s a cold wind.”

She turned her face up to his. Mistral, that’s French isn’t it? I think I like it.”

Malak nodded. “Oui!” Accusingly she cut Josh a glance. “I didn’t think you spent much time in class? Where did you learn that?”

The high school junior looked away. “Actually, I got good grades, it was Hathaway and this place I don’t like.”

Trying to change the subject he asked, “So what name are you thinking about Malak?”

She mimed thinking about it. “If you can do French, I’m doing German and take a page from my brother’s book. Magnetism is measured in Gausses after the German mathematician. So how about Gauss or a variant like Gaussia?”

Her friends nodded in approval.

Malik nudged Billie. “So, have you figured how not to get sued by Disney?”

The younger girl replied, “Nope, not yet. Most of the good shape-changer names have been taken. I do know that I don’t want to be called Polly anything!”

As one they made gentle fun of her.

“Poly Morph!”

“Poly Miss!”

“Poly Juicer”

“Poly-wants-a-cracker”

Josh rubbed his shoulder where Amanda hit him.

As the laughter died down Billie replied, “Maybe I’ll just use Flexible and leave it at that. If anyone else wants to shorten it to Flex then Marvel can go after them and not me!

Josh could only shake his head over how much Billie had changed. That shy sad boy just couldn’t be this giggling happy girl. Then her expression changed to the very picture of the cute amazed chick.

Following her eyes, he knew his own mouth must’ve been dropping open too. Floating towards them was this, well glowing globe, like right out of Glinda the good witch of the north. The bright sphere ignoring the hard rain and gusting winds gave the stormy morning an even more unreal feel.

He closed his mouth. As if surviving a nuke; fighting off an army and winning as well as now getting drenched by a tropical storm in the middle of the Mojave desert was the least bit normal.

Visible in the gleaming soap bubble were two figures, Val and Lizzie. Talk about unreal. Josh wasn’t sure how he felt about this latest gender bender revelation. He’d looked up to the ex-hero. The older man had a way about him that earned the teen’s respect.

As the bubble ‘popped,’ Billie for one had no problems with showing her feelings. “Val!” she squealed, running to the older woman, enveloping her in a hug.

Josh had only a brief meeting with ‘Val’ before their escape, but she was different now. Alan Glenn clearly had a presence about him, but this ‘Val’ put that to shame. Although, like them all, she was dirty and her supersuit clearly showed the rough usage from the morning’s events, there was a kind of perfection about her.

Noticing the rest of the group’s stare, she looked down at her worse for wear uniform. Smiling she asked Billie and Lizzie, “A little space please.”

A bloom of light later, the more familiar figure of their teacher stood before them. The torn black uniform was gone. Standing there in his customary jeans, t-shirt and of course that battered jacket of his, he held out his hands in a display of openness. With that old sideways grin of his, he said, “It’s still me. Well the old me anyways.”

That was enough for Amanda and Malak as they joined the two younger girls in welcoming their teacher back.

Josh glanced over at Malik, wondering how he was taking this.

Meeting his eye, the black teen shrugged mouthing, “Go with the flow dude.”

’Why not?,’ Josh asked himself. Compared to everything that’s happened to him in last year who am I to judge anyone else?”

Holding his students, Alan barely kept his tears away, “Thank Gawd you are all alright! I‘m sorry. I never wanted any of you to go through anything like this.”

Amanda looked him in the eye. “Don’t say that! You can’t save everyone. Sometimes you have to save yourself. That’s what you taught us. I can’t say I enjoyed any of this, but we didn’t start this, they did.”

Alan saw the haunted look in Malak’s eyes as well as those in the rest of his students. Somberly, little Lizzie held up her thumb. Perhaps the six year old understood and maybe she didn’t, but she’d still done her part in this mess.

Speaking up, Josh pointed out to him, “None of us wanted to be here, but without you this would’ve turned out a lot worse. You cared when no one else would. We were just guinea pigs to them. You made a difference.”

Alan sighed. “That’s all I ever wanted to do, Josh. Billie can tell you a little about how it feels when your own body doesn’t fit right. Even after I found out how to make it fit and found a place to hide from these people,” he said, inclining his head at the smoking ruins of the entrance to Area 61.

“I couldn’t forget the wrongs done to my brother and friends. We were a lot like you guys. All of us shared so much, they were all my brothers and sisters. Unable to put it aside, I became Alan Glenn again.” He waved his hands at the familiar form they knew.

Taking took off his jacket, Alan handed it to Josh. “Even though being like this is a kind of a pain and a discomfort, that I can’t really describe, I changed back to this. I wanted justice for what was done to us. For that I thought it was worth it trying to fit in, be normal, and what everyone expected.”

With his wry grin, he said, “You all know how well that worked out. The Senate Investigators slapped them all on the wrist, and the ones who did wrong used their ’Get-out-of-Jail-Free’ card.”

“I can’t say it was a mistake. If I hadn’t, I would never have met that special someone who means more to me than anything else,” Alan told them, looking past them at the tall woman in black walking towards them.

“Good things did happen and I did help a lot of people that needed it. And I met you guys who mean more to me than I can say. However, while it’s been fun, it hasn’t been real fun.”

“My secret is well and truly out of the closet. It’s time for Alan Glenn to fade away. Finally, it’s time for me, Valentina Zarya Savitskaya,” he said, his eyes meeting those of the love of his life in any form.

The bright flash of her change had everyone covering their eyes again. Val took a deep breath. She was herself again. Holding out her hand out for her jacket, she slipped it on over her torn supersuit. No longer feeling so exposed, she remarked, “I always liked this jacket even if it is a little big now. So what were you guys talking and laughing about before Lizzie and I dropped in?” she asked, hugging the young girl, who giggled.

Josh cleared his throat, “We were kicking around ideas for codenames. Seems pretty likely this is going to get out. Rather not have our families dragged into this or have this follow us around for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh I can assure you it’s going to get out,” Maggie said, joining them. “For twenty years the two of us have fought this silent war and now finally we have something they can’t cover up.”

Val saw Josh’s eyebrows rise as Maggie, her love, and she slipped their hands together. Still smiling, she replied, “I don’t think this frackus won the ‘war,’ but maybe it’ll wake people up to what’s happening. The ones that are responsible for this won’t feel the least bit guilty about anything except that they were caught.

Watching his friends’ expressions of disbelief, Josh blurted out, “You mean they’re going to get away with this?”

Val waved her hands, ‘yes and no.’ “If you mean Col. Hodges who commanded these ‘gentlemen,’ assuming he’s still alive, no. He’ll be barbequed, but good. However, if you want the sorry SOBs who are really responsible, I’m afraid the answer is yes.”

“They’ll do the old ’run silent, run deep’ routine until the public outcry blows over. Then it’s back to business as usual. Until that happens we do as much damage to their prestige and reputation as we can.”

Val exchanged a long moment looking into Maggie’s eyes. She knew her love was ready to settle down and live some of their dreams. “On the other hand, we just lost our anonymity. Like I said my secret is out, and I don’t think Maggie’s identity is any too safe either.”

Malak suggested, “So why don’t you feint too?”

Everyone looked at him, except for Lizzie.

A little uneasy at the attention, he explained, “Basic football tactics, you fade back and pull a little razzle dazzle to confuse the defensive line. Then you feint to make their linebackers and defensive backs commit themselves. If it all works, you have a hole in their defense you can run through.”

Seeing the girls’ confusion he tried to put it simpler. “If they are going to fade back, so do you, using some distraction so they’re looking in the wrong direction.”

Val gave him a teacher’s approving grin. “You know that’s not a half bad idea. Ever consider trying stage magic?”

Before he could answer a frustrated Lizzie flew up into Val’s arms. “If everyone is getting pretend names, I want one too!”

“So Princess, what do you want your name to be?” Val asked warmly, holding her pint sized savior. Only she and Ollie knew just how close she’d really been to losing it all.

Thinking hard Lizzie answered, “I don’t know yet.”

Squeezing her in a hug, Val replied, “Take all the time you need.”

“Unfortunately that is not true Valentina,” Peter said, picking his way towards them with a woman, in a gray bodysuit, that Val didn’t recognize.

“Time is the one thing we don’t have. More soldiers are on the way as we speak,” he warned.

Seeing everyone’s curious stares, the woman with him smiled, “I’m Sapphira Heron. I was the one in the gold armor,” she explained, holding her hand overhead to show she was taller then.

“I don’t think it’ll be of much use to you. I survived, my armor did not. However, I am very familiar with the V-22 and 33. With a little time I could get one back in the air. After all we have plenty of spare parts,” she said, inclining her head.

Peter shook his head. “I don’t think we have anywhere near enough time for that. We’ve fought one war this morning. I have no intentions of beginning one with the United States. Arghun hasn’t yet returned and I fear we have worn out our welcome. We need to see what our available resources are and consider our options.”

Sapphira spoke up, “Since I’ve already begun, I’ll continue. Bernardo my second is in serious condition as is Mariko. The only two of my team who are combat ready are Robert and Joachim. Unfortunately Bernardo was our Jack of all trades. His skills would have been most useful, however Robert’s might prove of use too since he has experience in taking what doesn’t belong to him.”

Peter shrugged. “We’re not in a lot better shape. Bob and Katrina are both also badly injured. Ivan is better, but at best is walking wounded. Arghun as you know still hasn’t reported back. I’m afraid that leaves only me,” he said, spreading his hands.

“I could carry a half-dozen or so with my telekinesis, but only for a relatively short distance. More importantly, I might be faster than the helicopters, but not the attack aircraft I’m sure are scrambling as we speak. I doubt we would be able to make it back to our base camp, but we have a rental van there.

Val looked at Josh, urging him that it was his turn. He blinked, surprised, but he looked questioningly at his friends. Lizzie held up her thumb. One by one they all did the same, chuckling at their youngest teammate.

“Hmmm… None of us are seriously hurt, but we are beat up. This was our second fight this morning. I don’t think we can help much in finding a way out, but Amanda could mess with the weather to buy us some more time.”

Josh paused, thinking. “But if she does that.” He waved his hand at the battlefield. “More of them are going to die because they won’t get the help they need. For that matter, a lot of the Zoomies downstairs are in a bad way too. The medical guys here are way over their heads.”

Feeling a little lame, he finished, “I don’t think that’ll help us in the long run.”

The older leaders nodded their heads. Val inclined hers too. “That’s a good point, Josh. This is bad, but we don’t want to make it any worse. There’s going to be a lot of finger pointing. We want to make sure it’s at the ones responsible.”

“Status Maggie?” Val asked.

The tall woman in black returned the smile. “We have a sedan hidden near enough to escape and evade to. That’ll work for five of us but won’t help the wounded.”

“However, I think I have a good rapport with Dr. Hathaway. I believe she’s ready to defect. If so, she could help us recover the rest of Max’s kids as well as assist with the wounded.”

She looked at Sapphira. “In a last ditch throw of the dice we could try and do what she suggested. Together we might be able to get a dropship back in the air relatively quickly. However, we would still have a problem. Fast they might be but not faster than the F-22s at Edwards. We would have to do some fancy flying heading south of the border. Plus we have the question of fuel. No way we could make Sanctuary without refueling multiple times. All in all I have to say is this isn’t good.”

“Your status Ollie?” Val inquired using Maggie’s radio.

His voder replied, “Like Ms. Heron, I can not offer much assistance to the group. The Rocket is lightly damaged. I would not recommend trans-atmospheric flight. However all our passengers and cargo are still intact which also means we don’t have any additional room.”

Val took another deep breath. She ‘splashed‘ a bit of Slow-time to compose her thoughts. “Okay my turn.”

“Like Josh’s crew, this was round two for me. I don’t have to tell you they’d been bad ones for me. Anyone who isn’t deaf and blind knows I’ve suffered a very personal loss today. I also know some of you are concerned about my mental state right now. That’s probably why no one has suggested I use my supra-speed to zip over and check on Arghun.”

“I’m not able to reach my full speed right now because my supersuit and equipment are a total loss. This jacket, I’m afraid, just won't take going supersonic. However, I still can get to the rendezvous site faster than anyone else with the exception of The Rocket. On the other hand, they might feel a little threatened by someone they don’t know. So let’s try this.”

“Maggie, you and Josh’s crew, do what you can to get Hathaway to cooperate with us. Get the rest of Max’s kids out and see what we need to do to move our wounded.”

“Peter, Sapphira you’re to find us a fixer upper transport that’s our best bet. That’ll also let you keep an eye on the military situation. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find Arghun and the Kusbegi,” Val explained.

Lizzie tugged gently on her jacket. “I wanna come with you.”

Val gave her young charge another hug. “That’s a really good idea. You still have your radio. We can keep in touch with that. Ollie I’m afraid that means you’re going to be busy playing switch board keeping this mishmash of communications going.”

He replied, “No problem, can do. Big Mac will handle the conventional radio and I will fill in with my telepathy. However I do have one question.”

“Sure Ollie,” she said, “What is it?”

“Is this Kusbegi search and rescue craft of Gray-built origins?” he asked. “If so, sensors have just picked up one landing nearby. I must say they’re quite stealthy in their approach.”

A very welcomed voice announced from the dreary morning rain. “And no one would believe me when I told them you held me in special regard!”

Drenched, bedraggled, and yet somehow moving with his same jaunty walk despite a limp, Arghun Bahadur had returned.

“Your pardon, for my lateness. I ran into some unexpected difficulties and the Kusbegi pilots were less than enthusiastic about changing their flight plans. They took some convincing.”

“However, we must hurry. There is an army on the way,” he reported.

Pyotr gently supported Arghun with his TK. “Never ever late my friend. Your timing is impeccable.”

Val projected a commanding presence for her little group. “Alright people, new plan. We need to come up with a way of getting our injured folks to the Kusbegi without every Tom, Dick and Harriet getting an eyeful that we’re violating American airspace.”

“Val,” Ollie sent to her telepathically. “Your SAR transport is a Gray-built spacecraft, with a Gray gravity drive.”

Her eyes widened as the implications struck her. “Oh right! Sorry Ollie, I’m a bit slow this morning. You don’t have to hit me over the head again. I get it,” she sent back.

Addressing everyone looking at her curiously, “Okay, never mind I have a plan. Ollie you set the Buggy down next to where friend Arhgun has the Kusbegi hidden. Maggie and Sapphira, you two meet up with Ollie. He’ll show you what you’ll need to do.

“Pyotr and Arghun, how about you get aboard the Kusbegi and do some more convincing. Ollie and the girls are going to have to make a few modifications to their bird.”

The Kazakh smiled. “I doubt that will be necessary. My first argument was very persuasive.”

Her brother jovially slapped Arghun’s back. “And if not, I’m sure my Colonel’s tabs will help. It’s about time I got some use out of the things, Captain,” he said with humor.

Val pretended being shocked. “Why Pyotr! I thought you were acting unofficially as my brother and as my brother this just might make up for that purple hair tint incident. You know the one I'm talking about,” she said crossly.

He turned to Arghun. “See! I told you. She never forgets.

His sister smirked. “We however don’t have anymore time for old times. I’ll take Josh and crew with me to talk to Hathaway. We’ll just have to manage without your rapport Maggie.”

Thinking about her brother, Gus, and his last memories, Val added, “I think I know what to say.”

Pyotr scooped up Maggie, Sapphira, and Arhgun in his TK, with the latter pointing the way to the Kusbegi. Josh and Malik lead the way for the rest back into Area 61.

Val lagging behind carried Lizzie. She wanted to use the sharp senses bestowed by her friend, Doug, to see how much time they had left. Somehow the thought of using those talents no longer bothered her as badly. As Ollie had told her, they were gifts passed on to her by those who loved her.

Lizzie whispered, “I know,” as she found what she was looking for.

The older woman asked, “What’s that Princess?”

Louder the little girl replied, “I know what I want my pretend name to be. Would it be okay if I went by the same one as your friend with the tiara?”

Val felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “You mean Sensation?”

Lizzie nodded slowly.

She felt herself smiling as she replied, “I think Joyce would be very happy you want to use it.”

“Well then, Sensation we have some kids to rescue! We must be cautious. You‘ll never find a more wretched pit of scum and villainy!”

Together they ventured back into Area 61.

ULTIMATE Inspector Philippe Imbert sighed as the true price of this night’s business came into sight. He had at last gotten the gate guards to listen to him even though it had meant he and his team giving up their weapons. That, he had expected. Gathering up every man and bit of medical gear he could find, they headed into the fire and thunder that filled the horizon.

Burning wrecks of aircraft littered the landscape as rain fell from those strange clouds that had rushed in from nowhere. Given the cost of blood and lives this night, this oddly warm rain made it seem as if the very heavens were weeping for the foolishness of men.

The Air Force Captain in charge had thankfully been willing to listen to his suggestions of pairing up Air Force personnel with the Inspector’s ULTIMATE agents. He hoped that would help keep the two groups who’d so recently been shooting at each other from more violence. In particular, at those who were only trying to help the survivors.

It was hot dangerous work, made even more so in the rain, with weapons and explosives still cooking off unpredictably. The UHABs own medics were doing what they could, but in their arrogance, no one had ever anticipated these sorts of casualties. Who in their right mind would order an attack against a desperate foe holed up in a formidable redoubt?

Philippe said a silent prayer for the dead as he crawled out from the wreck of yet another dropship. The state of the art assault ship was designed to give and take massive damage while keeping the crew as safe as possible. Having one engine and wing completely ripped away exceeded those expectations.

More American military had arrived, but so far he and his people had been allowed to continue their rescue efforts. Still curious about the fate of those he had chased for so long, he kept looking for clues.

The inspector found that enormous crater some distance away. Knowing Saul Simpson was released to Area 61’s custody helped him identify the body inside the fireball smoothed glassy pit.

Inquiries to those he aided only added to his list of unanswered questions. He had found that the defending mutants had been badly hurt and at least one had died. What baffled him was that, after the battle, apparently all 30 or 40 of them had marched into the old Rocketeers team vehicle, like a troop of clowns into a car only big enough for 6 or 8. More than a few of those were on stretchers but still they all somehow fit.

Perhaps he would never know the truth here. Sighing, he picked up his depleted medical bag. There were still more wounded to be attended to. It was going to be a long day.

Epilogue: Two years later more or less
St. Viance France

Philippe Imbert, Inspector, retired, reflected back upon that day. Although it had seemed many more, only 86 had died. Several hundred more had been badly wounded out of the near two thousand who had been there. Others, like the commanding officer of Area 61 General Robert Laramie, were missing in action and presumed dead.

Dr. McClellan had survived and had once again disappeared from the public eye. No doubt in another facility still experimenting on the unwary. Dr. Hathaway had ended up taking sanctuary in Zolotoye-Yablochko along with what had been SRT-One.

Sapphira Heron, and other survivors of that group, provided recordings and ironclad proof that she and her team were attacked by ULTIMATE after refusing to obey an illegal order.

In the scandal that had followed, ULTIMATE claimed that the entire disaster was caused by the unstable Randolph Hodges, commander of the UHAB. Suspiciously to his detective mind, they had provided medical records that proved their assertion, along with paperwork saying he was in the process of being relieved of his command. They suggested that he had become aware of this and went off the deep end. Of course the senior appointed heads of ULTIMATE were forced to resign, but Philippe could not fail to note the permanent assistants were still in power.

He well knew where the real power was and that nothing had actually changed. This event dealt a huge blow to their prestige and put the entire organization under international scrutiny. Many nations were reviewing their relationship as well as the laws passed under their urging.

The United States stood by its cover story that Project Chiron was a pilot program for schooling increasing numbers of young mutants entering the educational system and was the only active program at Area 61 at the time. The only misdeed they admitted to was of one of their students entering spontaneous combustion precipitated by mutation syndrome, or ‘spontaneous mutant combustion‘, by the popular media (SMC).

That situation had been handled by the staff and faculty. The unfortunate student died of the condition but that was known to happen to manifesting mutants unable to contain all the power of their transformations. However the government representatives didn’t even try to explain how this one was powerful enough to knock out the power grid and communications of much of the western United States.

It had not taken a genius to work out that Captain Blazzar had returned and that was the cause of Project Meridian’s reactivation. The staff and students of Project Chiron had vanished for a time, voicing concerns about safety. Alan Glenn reappeared and testified as to the happenings of that night although he avoided answering any questions about that mysterious woman who had single handedly ended that battle.

The children were re-united with their parents, but it hadn’t escaped him how they eventually ended up overseas at school in Zolotoye-Yablochko being taught by Valentina Savitskaya and Margaret Carson.

As for himself, he retired to that picturesque chá¢teau he had dreamed of for so long. That retirement had not been as bad as he feared because he found himself called upon by those seeking his help. It seemed he had impressed more than a few people when he had given his testimony over the events of that day.

Now along with taking care of his roses, he spent several hours a day on his computer, doing his part in making the world a place for all humans; mutants as well as the old fashioned sort like himself.

So he could not have been more surprised while in his garden this morning upon seeing a rather familiar Mercedes C class sedan pulled up into his drive. Piling out was a trio of virtually identical little girls.

They were startling because two were black while the third was as fair and red headed as any Scot or Irish despite looking like identical triplets. The tall Margaret Carson smiled as she sorted them out while the shorter dark haired Valentina Savitskaya gracefully got out of the drivers’ seat. They spent a rather pleasant morning discussing, among other things, the events leading up to that fateful day.

He could see the pain still in her eyes, but every time she glanced at those three ragamuffins they softened into almost a smile. Finally Philippe simply asked, “Why come here? Why tell me of all people?”

Valentina laughed, “Sapphira was right when she told us you were an old rogue.”

She turned serious. “Perhaps because of your actions, that day wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Also, because you know more of the story than anyone else. Maggie convinced me that someone else needed to know the whole story. Well as much as we know now after the fact. I don’t think anyone will ever know the whole story.”

He asked, “What should I do with this information you‘ve brought me?”

She reached out and touched his hand, “You’ve been making a difference. Your words has managed to reach ears that not only listen but who can change things. Some of us think that is a good thing. Perhaps you should write a book,” she said with a quirky smile.

Curious he replied, “I can see that, but why not let everyone know about this yourselves? Surely this would have more weight if it came from you?”

Leaning forward as if to share a secret, she confided, “You see we’re going on a journey and will be out of contact for quite a while.”

His old instincts woke. “A journey? Other than the one you’re on?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Oh yes! Somewhere far far away.”

Philippe got the feeling she wasn’t going to tell him any more so he asked something else that had been bothering him. “So just how did you get 40 some odd mutants out of Area 61 that morning with the entire attention of the world on you?”

She gave him a measuring stare, deciding what to tell him. He could see the click when she made her decision. “Peter, as a Colonel in the militia, had access to one of their Gray-built saucers modified for SAR work. It was to evac us out after they’d rescued me. That plan changed after Peter found out just how many needed to be flown to safety as well as the number needing medical care.

“However he didn’t dare bring it in close because none of us wanted Zolotoye-Yablochko officially involved in that mess, which would have happened if it had been seen and identified. You see, we know a secret. Gray saucers have a short range teleportation-like system onboard. It’s really more like a warp gate that takes advantage of the way their engines work. It lets them get away without building airlocks on their spacecraft and makes inter-personnel transfers a lot easier and faster.

“No one else has stumbled on this yet. We only found out about it by pure accident while at Area 61. Anyway, Maggie was able to re-activate the one on the Rocket and Peter’s SAR saucer,” she explained

His old face lit up as he understood how they did it. “You teleported them from the Rocketeers old transport to this other aircraft which kept out of sight, yes?”

She nodded as she took a drink of the wine he provided. “In an atmosphere it has really short range but it was enough. Josh’s illusion powers made certain no one looked in the wrong direction.”

The retire Inspector smiled. “Helped along by more than a little misdirection with that circus parade of yours. Classic misdirection, yes?”

The dark haired woman replied back with a smile, “But of course!”

“How do you ever keep up with them?” he asked, waving a hand at the three children Margaret Carson was herding back towards them.

Valentina gave a sideways grin. “It helps that I have the same powers they do. More importantly, I’m an adult and tests show that right now I’m actually more than able to keep up with them. However, as they grow, their abilities will too. I’m not even going to guess where Lizzie’s talent may top out after being zapped by Doc that last time.”

Philippe turned serious. “That man has hurt a lot of people.”

Her voice was as cold as ice. “That he has. One day he will be called on it.”

Then her smile returned. “Just make sure you get up early tomorrow and watch the news.”

His bushy gray eyebrows rose in question. “Do I dare ask what I should be looking for?”

She just grinned. “Trust me! You’ll know it when you see it. It’s going to be big!”

Pointing a finger at her, he accused, “You know the last time someone told me that, I ended up in the middle of nowhere with great big bombs going off!”

They all laughed as his guests got in their car.

Watching them drive away, he wondered just how big was big?

The next morning, Philippe shook his head as he watched televised coverage from the International Space Station of the colony ship leaving orbit. Just how had they managed to hide that?

It was a stupendous achievement but part of him was disappointed. Rather than stay and confront the forces against them, they chose instead to flee. He supposed that he really couldn’t blame them. After all, the desire to protect loved ones from harm is strong.

Sighing he poured himself a cup but froze, thinking. Before his eyes was the marvelous spectacle of the giant vessel with the very obvious escort of powerful mutants and spacecraft. All the world’s attention was on them as they left Earth for another world.

He remembered all those years of chasing as cagey a pair as any in history. His own words came to him, “With these two everything is a deception!”

Philippe then recalled Valentina was taught by her adoptive father, a stage Illusionist. Who just happened to be the President of that departing colony ship. Perhaps they were leaving Earth for a new home, but then again maybe not!

In any case, he knew significant elements of humanity had a jaundiced view, if not a guarded joy, of their departure, in vehicles made only possible by their mu-tainted powers. He could only hope, in time, this event will be recognized as a human triumph that all of humanity could take pride in.

Lifting his morning coffee done right, he wished them Bon Voyage!

Turning his attention from the tele-operated chessboard, Doctor Albert McClellan’s eyebrows rose as he watched the coverage of the huge spacecraft leaving orbit. He’d known that city state of mutants had shot down several of the giant Gray bombardment vessels, but no one had gotten one flying again.

Well, almost no one, he amended. Early this morning, they began warning away all aircraft for a ‘civil defense’ exercise. Then when the monstrously sized ship rose out of that lake, they alerted everyone that they were headed to orbit. The swarm of smaller supporting saucers made it clear they were protecting their larger cousin.

He’d been keenly interested since some of those protectors were supras. Energia and her brood of ducklings were easy for him to identify.

“Alan, Alan, Alan,” the old scientist chuckled. He’d suspected years ago that Alan Glenn and Energia was one and the same. He had always known of the boy’s transgendered condition. A part of an experiment in itself, he wanted to see just how much pure naked desire for a specific change could affect the Z-Ray process.

The results were inconclusive. Alan received his desire but it could be because of inheriting Fortune’s reality altering power. Now Valentina, as she was known now, had all of The Rocketeers’ supra-abilities.

That was rather unfortunate but this wasn’t the first time a plan had failed nor would it be the last. Setting up Project Looking Glass to fail on schedule, and getting Meridian reactivated had taken some creative measures on his part.

“Ah the small-minded,” he mused. He had perfected the Z-Ray the first time and used it on himself. His then already prodigious intellect grew many times more. He saw the possibilities of shifting the quantum states giving one person’s supra-power to someone else, him.

The problem was that it caused the death of the donor and that presented all kinds of unwanted attention. However that was solved by working for a government desperately looking for some way of creating high order Supras.

It was perfect! He had a willing pool of volunteers lining up. It was just like shopping, letting him pick the ones he really wanted. Of course he did have to actually enhance a few as to not kill the goose that laid the golden egg.

Then another breakthrough! He could tune the quantum state so even after the volunteer had been enhanced, when death caught up with the subject, their powers would still come to him.

However, that Cuba business came up and interrupted everything. Nuclear war really didn’t worry him. He was in a nuke proof base the government had virtually given to him. Albert didn’t even have to worry about small details like security or keeping the location secret. That was all handled by the Air Force boys in blue.

He’d of course made plans for post-apocalypse America but nothing that couldn’t wait. However he decided he had to thicken the pot for his experiments to continue. The children selected for the first Meridian project were perfect. In hindsight, although the power to control probability and chance that Jeff Fuller possessed was enticing, its very unpredictability turned out to be a problem.

It was the Z-Ray Nine that was going to be machine that gave out the jackpot. He had studied Dr. Flagg and the process that turned the intellectual nerdy scientist into a muscled powerhouse. Altering the settings for Gus Glenn’s exposure, he’d been certain it would cause almost the same type of transformation.

The death of Joyce Sturm triggered the change into Kiloton, just as he’d expected. Where things hadn’t worked as desired, was that the resulting damage wasn’t anywhere as severe as he’d planned. Kiloton was supposed to get himself and all of The Rocketeers killed.

He learned that the power he received in each transfer was becoming less and less. Only if the new power was greater than what he already possessed was there any appreciable gain at all. A really huge exchange was needed. Z-Ray Nine turned the Rocketeers into a kind of Quantum damn. All of their abilities would gather and pool as each died until just one of them held all the powers of their entire team. Then when the last Rocketeer died all that power would come to him. That plan went to pieces and caught on the spot, he’d had to improvise. It took him years to recover the prestige wasted from that failure.

Other matters caught his attention and so he waited. Albert could be patient. One of his first donors, had the gift of near immortality. He’d known exactly what had happened to Alan, even though the youth’s ability to control those shifting quantum states was fascinating. To actually be able to pick and choose which one was active and even take on aspects of the deceased’s appearance! Those were elements he hadn’t anticipated. Although it was beyond him why the child refused to revel in the power that had become his, or rather, hers.

He’d hoped that depression would overwhelm this holder of the Golden Grail. However the youth stubbornly went on living. It’d been very clever of the child to hide in the Soviet Union. To his dismay, even there, Alan hadn’t managed to get herself killed. That was disappointing.

Tired of waiting, he’d set up this entire series of events. General Laramie, like his predecessors, was painfully easily to manipulate. As a bonus, having Saul Simpson and his clones to experiment upon was almost worth it in itself. All was going well until that intrusion.

That mutant woman was Alan Glenn’s lover and it was her presence that changed all the equations. He considered exposing her, but that would mean revealing that little alien too. The creature had been hanging around here all these years. His surveillance of the little fellow’s tinkering had proven useful and even earned him a patent or two. He wasn’t quite ready to give that up yet, and besides, he would have to explain how come the alien escaped detection for so long.

Observing them breaking into the vaults was very entertaining as well as informative. Deduction told Albert his own plans needed to be brought forward and had let Laramie have the petty pleasure of capturing Alan. Courtney Hathaway surprised him when she sabotaged the memory-wipe planned for Alan but that was okay. He’d made allowances for the mind-wipe failing.

Then more problems arose. That woman released Alan earlier than he’d calculated, and to make matters worse, Kiloton broke out of his prison prematurely. Then the monster failed to kill Alan just like he had 30 years before. To top it off, Saul Simpson died stopping the monster, ending any more energy clone research. It just went on and on.

Then The Wildfire Protocols were activated by more of that woman’s meddling. Unknown to anyone, that bomb never would have destroyed the base. He had carefully designed the bomb and the base for the desired illusion. The vaults would absorb and channel the damage away. After a quick cleaning, Albert would then have a secret base that no one would ever suspect. It was perfect.

But then Capt. Blazzar had come to save the day. Albert seriously considered intervening, but then Laramie had shown up weapon in hand. Did the overbearing idiot take care of that little problem? Noooo! Troublesome fools trying to be heroes.

Now the Air Force had surveyed the base and had seen just how little real damage was done. In a matter of weeks it would be back to business as usual. Of course his enhancement projects would be starting from scratch again. Alan and that woman made certain that all of Saul Simpson’s clones escaped with them.

Be that as it may, Albert McClellan hadn’t missed the look Alan Glenn gave him at the hearing investigating this entire mess. It was much the same as the one the angry young man had given him after being kicked out of Meridian. He’d seen the same look during those Senate hearings in the 80’s.

Alan Glenn wasn’t his friend and they both knew it. Perhaps in the long run this was for the best, he thought, watching the talking heads explain the transmissions from the giant spacecraft.

JIM: “In virtually every language known to man they are transmitting ‘Good Bye!’. In English, French and Russian are further explanations that they are Zolotoye-Yablochko’s colony ship on their way to Mars.”

BARBARA: “Thank you Jim. Most of our viewers know that Zolotoye-Yablochko is more popularly known as Mutant-stan. Since they are such a small nation, how can they afford to support such an effort? And just how big will this colony be? That is a huge ship!”

JIM: You’re right Barbara. There are many cities in the USA that are bigger than their entire nation. Wait a moment, more information is coming through.

JIM: Looking a little stunned, the talking head replied, “All of them.”

BARBARA: "What was that Jim?”

JIM: "All of them. It’s not an expedition. It’s a migration. Reports from Kazakhstan say they are all gone. Everything and Everyone. Gone to Mars."

Albert turned his attention away from the news. It was actually very clever. ULTIMATE’s political capital was as low as it’d been in years. No way could they attack the mutant migration on their way to the red planet. Although there’d been manned missions, colonies were still years away, if ever. Well, sooner than anyone would have believed possible it seemed.

Like the Soviets that’d built the secret mutant city years before, they were long thinkers and had no doubt been planning this for years. Of course that little Gray alien from here and that woman must had helped with any technical problems.

If the Gray vessel was fully operational, their colony should thrive. Mars would be perfect for them. Well within range of the vessel and a much better prospect than any of the other planets or gas giants’ moons.

Still such a mission would be full of danger and perils, and he could only hope that Alan Glenn would finally make a mistake and die. Then on the other hand, remembering that hate, perhaps she would come for him.

Smiling, he shifted into a form that made him look much older than he was. Picking up his un-needed glasses and lab coat, he complete his disguise. He could only hope that she would dare. Alan Glenn might have the powers of an entire team, but he’d been at this for a very long time. He had been collecting powers for more than 50 years.

Checking the monitor he made sure his room was clear. It wouldn't do for someone to see him teleporting in from his private and much more secure quarters. Sighing, he missed being able to spy on that little alien. It'd provided so many useful gadgets and toys.

A tone alerted him that his distant chess opponent had completed his move. Taking a moment to consider, he selected his response.

“Your move Professor Mortis,” he said.

Just call him Legion.

Fin