Masks XXII: Golden Opportunity

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part One

"Whew!" said Vic, sagging with relief when the pregnancy test came back negative.

"Oh, babe," said Michelle, bending to hug Vic as the martial artist sat on the lid of the toilet in their shared apartment's tiny bathroom. "I'm so glad. You didn't really think Stone had... done something while you were out, did you?"

"No," said Vic, with a tired sigh, as she tossed the stick into the trash. She looked up at her love with mixed emotions. "The point was I didn't know, thanks to my regeneration."

She scowled.

"He said he liked my genes."

"I've heard worse pickup lines," said Michelle, grinning as she straightened. She didn't mention all the things this test didn't prove, but instead focused on getting Vic's mind on other matters. "Well, let's celebrate. Wok on the Wild Side?"

"I thought you'd never ask..."

* * *

"I'm worried about Jenny," said Michelle, later, as they sat in the restaurant after their meal, contemplating desert. As usual, Vic had eaten roughly four times what the beautician had. Which was why the martial artist usually picked up the check.

"I think I know what you mean," said Vic, quietly. She put the menu down and looked at Michelle. "She needs to find someone. Problem is, who can measure up to an alien prince?"

"I hadn't actually thought about it that way."

Vic leaned back in the booth seat and sighed, then snuggled closer to Michelle. She no longer had an appetite for desert.

"Get a room, you two," said Sheila, the waitress, smiling at them as she passed by. "Sheila" was actually a very convincing guy in drag, and knew the pair well enough to joke with them.

"That is a very good idea," said Vic, sliding her left hand under the table and putting it on Michelle's thigh.

They were an odd couple. Vic appeared to be about sixteen, and a mix of Asian and Caucasian, while Michelle was an attractive Black woman in her late twenties. Victor Peltior's ancestry was actually largely French on both sides, and she was close to Michelle in age. As well as originally XY.

"Getting back to Jenny, I think this might just be a situation where we need to let nature take its course," said Michelle, who, after all, had more experience with being female. She was also not allowing herself to be distracted by Vic's attentions. At least, not right then. "If we try to arrange something it could backfire. Let's just keep doing things like inviting her to parties and out to dinner with other friends and hope she finds someone."

"You mean keep her socially involved," said Vic, nodding. Giving up - for the moment - on flirting, she gave Michelle a lopsided grin. She spoke much more quietly, saying, "The problem there is getting her out of that mask."

"Oh. Right," said Michelle, also quietly. "I'm so used to seeing her in that I sometimes forget about it."

"Well, classes start soon," said Vic, philosophically though still quietly. "We've got several new supers coming in, both students and teachers. Maybe something will gel."

* * *

Unfortunately for the plans Michelle and Vic had for their friend, as the Fall semester began at Ramsey Technical College Energia seemed even less inclined to casually socialize than previously. Most others at the college - including those in similar programs for advanced degrees - were too intimidated by her reputation to want to socialize with her.

Not that Vic didn't try. Having known her longer than any one else at the college had, and having fought in the same war - with her own tragedies and triumphs - she was not intimidated by Energia. Well, not much intimidated. However, Energia was preoccupied with her education plans. Despite their talk a few months earlier, neither she nor Vic were much interested in getting doctorates. In fact, Energia claimed she was getting close to leaving college... though not before attaining a certain goal: her Master's Degree. Seeing an end this close, she was redoubling her efforts to both take the classes she needed and to get good grades. As well as finally just get out of college.

"That's about my course of action, too," said Vic, grinning at her pun, as she and Energia talked in the cafeteria a few days after the martial artist's dinner with Michelle. Other students were so used to seeing Energia in her green and blue costume they hardly gave her a second glance these days, except for a few newbies. However, few would sit with her or even at the same table. Energia therefore valued Vic's company. "Are they calling yours 'Master's Degree in Superhuman Criminology and Law Enforcement' like mine?"

"'Master's Degree in Application of Superhuman Resources in Law Enforcement'."

"Huh. Makes sense. Though those are both too wordy."

"I'm also getting credit towards a physics minor," said Energia, with a slight laugh. "Mainly for helping the Space Technology Development Center here at Ramsey with their work on the field control for an FTL drive."

"All I'm getting is international certification as a self defense instructor," said Vic, perhaps feeling a bit inferior. "Is that the group established by the Lunies as an extension program?"

"Well, by the Lunies and NASA."

"I thought the Lunies and some other humans had already built FTL drives."

"Yeah, there have even been some trips made to the closer star systems," said Energia, waving a forkful of mashed potatoes. "Mostly those used drives from wrecked alien ships, some of them left here thousands of years ago. They usually required repairs, which were of varying quality. In fact, some of those expeditions never returned, at least not without help. However, neither the previous, actual, human-built prototypes - which were all mad science devices - nor the alien drives were easy to duplicate. Or even possible to duplicate, in most cases. This one will be as fast as some of those, but can be built in just about any factory which can make a modern generator or power converter."

"That sounds fantastic," said Vic, grinning. Her gaze grew distant. "We'll be able to explore strange, new worlds, as that old TV show put it."

"Yeah, well, we still have to negotiate some pretty intricate interspecies politics if we go more than about fifty light years in any direction." Energia heaved a great sigh. "It sucks being the new kids on the block, especially when it comes to interacting with interstellar societies. Thing is, we - that is, humanity - get certain legal perquisites from the recognition we'll receive as an interstellar society, if we can make our own FTL drives. So there's a balancing act between benefits and added expectations and responsibilities on the part of the bigger universe. The Lunies, especially, are pushing for this. They have things to trade with those outside."

Vic wasn't sure what to say to that, so she focused for a while on her third fish sandwich.

"Anyway," said Energia, with another, much smaller sigh, "I'm pretty busy this whole semester. So, busy for the next several weeks, then looking forward to the holidays for a rest, or at least a change. Then back to busy."

"Bit early to be doing that," said Vic, smirking, around a mouthful of sandwich. "Planning for Christmas, I mean."

"Don't talk with your mouth full. Anyway, my family starts buying Christmas gifts in June."

* * *

The days went by, then the weeks. Energia and Vic were both teaching some Freshman classes. However, the College administration was well aware they were both working towards their Masters Degrees and hoping to leave the college soon. The two veteran supers were therefore not overburdened. Perhaps the federally appointed board of directors currently in charge of Ramsey were concerned that one or both might transfer somewhere else or simply abandon their plans for an advanced degree if their progress was impeded. Or maybe the administrators wanted the first Masters degrees in the specific topics the pair were working on to be awarded by them. Either way, Energia and Vic both found their advisors a bit disappointed that they weren't going for doctorates, but supportive.

Perhaps it was fortunate that things were slow on the super crimefighting front just now... though the pair did have occasional opportunities. Energia the moreso, because of her greater mobility.

As an unusually warm October moved into a record setting hot November, one such opportunity to aid the public good presented itself. Though it would turn out to be both mundane and very aggravating.

Early one weekday morning, as Energia was flying to the nearby city for some quick shopping before her first class, she picked up a police call on her earbud. There was a report of an impaired driver on a freeway near the school. She changed course, and soon found the problem vehicle.

It wasn't traveling all that fast, but it was all over the road. Other drivers were blowing their horns, swerving out of the way and flipping the driver off. From what Energia could see, the offending man was completely oblivious to both his own bad driving and the objections of other drivers. In fact, he seemed oblivious to everything, appearing mostly asleep.

Energia made sure to look through the rear window, just to make sure the driver wasn't someone who had panicked while trying to get a sick or injured person to a hospital. Energia had once needed to give a literal lift to a speeder whose wife turned out to be laying in the back seat, in labor. In this case, the rest of the car was empty. Well, unless he had a body in the trunk. In which case he really needed to be stopped. The driver was a well-dressed, middle-aged man who appeared not only unconcerned but barely conscious. Energia raised the car a safe distance above the rest of the traffic and deposited it on the narrow shoulder. She wasn't a car person, but it seemed like a late-model, solidly middle-class vehicle, one which already had several substantial dents. However, while she was calling 911 the driver simply took off again.

Energia shorted out the car's ignition system just as the operator answered. With a quick, silent thanks to Gadgetive for the hardened phone, she gave a brief description of the problem, the location of the vehicle and its make, model and license plate. Then she shoved the slowly rolling car firmly against the guardrail, stopping it. That done, she hung up and flew off. The driver was still trying to get his car to move, but it wasn't going anywhere without repairs.

She just happened to give one more glance back, and saw him opening the door.

Energia quickly grabbed the door with her magnetism and shoved it closed, as she reversed course. She heard him yelling in anger, and realized she had his leg caught in the door. With a growl of aggravation Energia moved closer. She saw that he still had his seatbelt fastened! Which wouldn't have stopped him from opening the door far enough to put it in danger of getting hit. She released the door, and as soon as the man jerked his leg back inside she shoved it back closed. Drivers had been noticing her activities, of course, but for the most part were dealing with them competently. However, traffic was slowing, and rapidly getting thicker, which was creating hazards separate from what the presumably drunk driver had been causing. People in passing vehicles were staring at the spectacle of a flying woman in mask and costume dealing with a drunk driver. Energia needed to finish and get out of there before she distracted someone into a collision. As well as get her groceries, put them away and get to class! Energia moved closer to the car, so she could see in detail what was going on. She was now hovering in a horizontal posture above the vehicle's roof, using her other senses - including the super ones - to check the inside of the car. There was still a small chance this guy was having some sort of medical crisis.

The man, oblivious to her presence, was still trying to force the door open. Energia, fed up, used heat to weld the anchor to the latch. Then stared in complete incomprehension as the man still tried to get out, through the now lowered window. This time his seat belt was undone. Horns blared and oncoming vehicles swerved.

"Get back in your car!" she shouted, thinking she should have made sure the entire electrical system was disabled so he couldn't roll the window down. How could she have predicted the need for this, though?

Reflexively, the startled driver obeyed. He looked around, but still didn't spot the flying super, who was hovering above his vehicle. Energia magnetically refastened his seat belt, spot welded the buckle to the latch, then drew the heat out before it could harm the driver. For good measure, she similarly fused the recoil mechanism. He might put be able to put a hand or foot out of the car window, now, but not far enough to get hit.

Energia watched for a few seconds to make sure he was securely held, then flew off. There were sirens in the distance, but given the heavy traffic they would be a while getting there.

* * *

Vic entered their apartment after school that afternoon to find Michelle already there, and working on her computer in the tiny den. Vic remembered, now, that Michelle was home early so they could get ready for a concert that night. Vic moved closer and gave the other woman a kiss that was definitely more than Platonic. Then stared in disbelief at what was on the screen.

"What the Hell is that?" said Vic, confused. "Whoah! Is that woman naked?! Only she's so twisted around you can't see anything!"

"Ferret yoga!" said Michelle, laughing. "Someone took stock photos of contortionists - yes, some of them naked - and gave their poses mock yoga names. I think there's even a version where someone took actual photos of ferrets and used human filters on them."

"I knew there were cat filters for humans," said Vic, frowning, "but not that there human filters for animals."

"Oh! That reminds me."

She opened a folder, found a specific image file and opened that.

"That's me, with a male filter," she said, smirking at the image of a nude Black man. "Don't I look handsome?"

"That image is doing strange things to my libido," said Vic, uncomfortably.

"Well, you took the photo," said Michelle, smirking.

"Hey, can you do me? Remember, I didn't just change sex, but general appearance. I'm curious about how I'd look if I'd changed but stayed male."

"Sure," said Michelle.

To Vic's extreme discomfort, Michelle found a nude photo she had taken of Vic posing on their bed. The "male filter" turned out to be capable of doing a full body conversion. A full frontal body conversion.

"Not all that impressive," said Michelle, frowning. "I could tinker with the defaults some..."

"Okay, that is doing really strange things to my libido," said Vic, grimacing as Michelle performed some "enhancements."

Michelle laughed, then made a show of saving the image.

"Hold on," said Vic, in protest to her preserving the image of what looked like a stereotypical male porn star who just happened to resemble Vic's current form.

Meanwhile, now that Michelle had figured out how, she went back and started tinkering with her own male image. "You aren't attracted to guys. You're not TG, either. So why all... this?"

"Hey, I'm curious."

"Lesbian/curious?" said Vic, laughing.

"More like human/curious."

"Let's see what other filters you have in this thing," said Vic, squeezing in beside her.

"Hey, get your own chair!" said Michelle, laughing.

Part Two

"How was the concert you and Michelle went to last night?" asked Energia, as she ran into Vic on the way to class the next morning.

"Fantastic!" said Vic, enthusiastically. Not mentioning that they had needed to rush after getting "distracted" thanks to the filtered images. "You know you've got a good performer - and a good audience - when people are cheering the pauses in the music!"

"I, uh..." was all Energia could manage.

The martial artist laughed, but not at her friend. She was still joyfully recalling the events of that night. Some of which had both preceded and succeeded the concert.

"You know I don't normally wear makeup or girly clothes, but Michelle had me so dolled up I actually felt pretty! She even pierced my ears, knowing they'd heal back within hours of taking the posts out."

"Ow," said Energia, with a wincing laugh. Deciding to focus on the physical discomfort her friend must have experienced, rather than the mental image of the formerly male Vic getting "dolled up." Though, come to think of it, Energia had never seen an image of Vic's previous form.

"More itching than ow," said Vic, grinning. "Worth it, though."

Energia smiled, remembering that Vic and Michelle had hooked up when the latter played some classic jazz while doing Vic's hair.

Must be nice, she thought, with a pang. To have someone with tastes that close to yours.

"I'm glad they know me there, though," said Vic, obviously becoming irritated. "At that concert venue, I mean. It's getting harder and harder to convince people of my actual age!"

"The US really needs to switch to the metric system," said Energia, firmly.

"How would that help me?"

"You'd be 28 in metric years."

"Har. Har."

"Well, here's where we part ways," said Energia, waving as she turned left. "Later!"

* * *

As the world moved towards another holiday season, something long delayed was finally getting underway. A Christmas present for an entire nation. A gift which was very late overall but would arrive early for this year's celebration.

Justice can be exceedingly slow, especially when people of power and influence fight against its outcome. However, one of the advantages of being long-lived is outlasting your enemies. Emil Constantine Moldarus was finally - decades after the international and even US legal systems had decided in the favor of his nation - seeing justice be fulfilled. Those currently in power in the US saw the matter as a minor bureaucratic annoyance which should have been settled long before their watch. Those few remaining voices shouting objections to the legal decision finally being obeyed were ignored as out of touch and irrelevant.

Constantine - officially, His Royal Highness, Constantine I, King of Moldaria - wanted to keep the matter quiet until the items were actually in Moldaria, for obvious reasons. However, someone - perhaps out of spite for the US finally complying - leaked word of the shipment to the press. The ruler of that small but technologically advanced nation therefore arranged a news conference, holding it in the Great Hall of the palace in his nation's capital.

"In 1914, many of the national treasures of Moldaria - including the entire coronation regalia - were put into the care of the United States Government, following invasion by the Kaiser's troops," said Constantine. He was in his dress costume, which was archaic but on him looked very good, indeed. It resembled a late Nineteenth Century dress cavalry uniform of his country, and came with a short cape, gloves and cap. "The actual, physical items of value were originally placed in a vault in the basement of the Treasury Building in Washington, DC to await the freeing of my country from the depredations of the Germans. Unfortunately, after the Germans left the Bolsheviks moved in, and the Soviet Union took over. After the opening of the Fort Knox Bullion Depository in 1936 our national treasures were moved there in 1937. As far as I know, that was the last time they were actually handled by anyone.

"Through the decades the United States kept the treasures of Moldaria safe, but also refused to release them to the government in exile. Even after our nation was finally freed in 1949, the US would not return the crown jewels, the historic documents and other precious items belonging to our nation. They claimed that the new Moldaria had no continuity with the old.

"A World Court decision in 1965 said otherwise and ordered the United States to return our property. Unfortunately, the government of the United States decided to ignore that ruling, despite courts in the US supporting the World Court decision. It has taken until now to get them to comply.

"You will understand if I don't provide any details of how the items will be returned to their rightful home. I will say that they should be back where they belong in time for Christmas, and - after a full inventory and the performance of any necessary restorations - will then be put on public display. Thank you."

* * *

"What he didn't mention," said Randy, to his wife, after the conference ended and the TV returned to the usual programming, "is that he increased the motivation by offering to share his supercapacitor technology with the US."

"Sometimes you just have to sweeten the pot," said Karen, philosophically.

"How do you sweeten a pot?" said Roy.

"Different kind of pot, honey," said Randy, in a deliberate pun.

"Sweeten the honey pot!" said little Sarah, emphatically. Getting it, though likely by accident.

* * *

The November 18th departure of the small ship - from one of the docks recently rebuilt after the attack of the cyborg clone of Tritonicus, months before - was supposed to be as secret as the special part of its cargo. However, word had somehow leaked that the Storm Defiant was the vessel carrying the container with Moldaria's treasures. This was not a huge surprise. The ship was registered in Norway, but often carried large items between the US and Moldaria. Reporters - including two TV news crews - arrived over two hours before the scheduled departure. Unfortunately for them, that was too late.

They tried to get interviews with the crew, but those individuals were already aboard and not inclined to leave the ship. The reporters, who were barred from going aboard themselves, instead interviewed dock workers. They quickly realized most of those they spoke with had no idea what was going on, and the rest wouldn't talk. There were other items in the cargo in addition to the one, special container, but all anyone among the press wanted to know about was that item and its contents.

The Storm Defiant was not a dedicated container ship, but a general freighter intended to carry large items - such as pieces of industrial equipment - in a protected cargo hold. It did not normally carry standardized cargo containers but could accommodate them, also in the hold. Estimated time from port to port was twenty days. If the weather cooperated.

Constantine, informed of the presence of reporters by the ship's captain over secure radio, told him to ignore the distraction and follow the plan. Once the ship was in international waters he was to open sealed orders and follow them.

Fortunately, the news leak was the only untoward thing apparent as the ship left harbor.

* * *

Champion - Paula, when she wasn't in uniform, though she currently was - watched the news in the lounge of the Assembly base. Distracted - and just plain tired - she half expected Buzz to make some ribald comment. She winced as she remembered he had died during the war.

Sighing, Champion straightened and reached for the remote, but was interrupted as Dr. Gorgeous entered.

"Ah," the newcomer said, nodding, as she slid onto the couch at the other end. "The Storm Defiant. Finally."

"Care to elaborate?" said Champion, dryly. "You do sometimes forget that the rest of us don't always keep up with your thought processes."

"Oh! Sorry. It's just that not only has this return been a long time coming, but there are already rumors that the treasures aren't actually aboard."

"Why wouldn't they be?" said Champion, puzzled.

"As I noted, there are many rumors, most of which I won't bother repeating. However, something which is not rumor is that the US Treasury Department refused to allow anyone from Moldaria in the Depository to handle the packaging or even supervise it. Constantine and his people won't know if they actually have the treasures until they open the container in Moldaria."

"That sounds... not only strange, but petty," said Champion, frowning.

"Government agents cited several regulations to justify that particular course of action," said Gorgeous. "However, the real reason is lingering resentment towards Constantine. Even though the specific persons currently enforcing the unofficial but very real administrative enmity towards him likely can not name Constantine's long-ago offenses. Bureaucracy does what it has been programmed to do, long after all the individuals who made the policy decisions are gone."

"Let's just hope nobody in the US government actually tried to cheat him," said Champion. She sighed again, and rose. "Think I'm gonna go shower and get into civvies. Got some paperwork and personal matters to attend to."

"Good night," said Gorgeous.

Champion made herself wait until she was actually inside her quarters with the door closed to take her mask off. People at the base already knew what she looked like, but she didn't want to get in the habit of unthinkingly removing her concealment. People had died and lives had been ruined through such a moment of carelessness.

Once in her quarters, though, the mask came off. In the bedroom it was tossed onto the bed, quickly joined by her utility belt and the items hidden around her outfit, then followed shortly by the rest of her costume. Soon she - now Paula - was sitting at the vanity in just her panties. After stretching and scratching several parts of her body in a completely unerotic way, Paula unpinned her hair, shook it out, and began vigorously rubbing her head. She actually smiled at this simple pleasure. Paula was still doing this when the main door opened and Susan came in. Even though this was a room away, one of the advantages of being what she was meant that Paula knew this, without even marveling at it.

"Your shift over already?" Paula called out, surprised. She glanced at the clock as her roommate reached the bedroom door. The time was later than she had realized. For some reason, one power - or knack, since many who weren't supers had it - she didn't have was a precise sense of time.

"A few minutes ago. Here, let me do that."

Susan moved in behind the seated Paula and began messaging her scalp. Paula closed her eyes and made tired sounds of pleasure.

The massage quickly became more erotic, and soon developed into something very intimate.

* * *

One advantage of their status at Ramsey Technical College was that Vic and Energia got to use the facilities set aside for Teaching Assistants. Perhaps the greatest of these benefits was the special lounge. In large part this appreciation was because it gave them a break from the younger students. The TA lounge was a rare place of peace and quiet on the campus, second only to the spooky chapel, which no-one liked to use. Only, right now most of the students and even teachers had already left for the holidays. The two supers were among a small group staying a few extra days to complete some coursework or projects after the regular close of business.

"It's a bit sad," said Energia, as she and Vic both sat on the slightly decrepit couch. Energia stretched and yawned before continuing. "Almost nobody going here when I started is still here. Even a lot of the teachers have left."

"You still approved to get credit from our work last Summer with The FX for your Master's?" said Vic, not bothering to point out that she had been here longer than Energia.

"Yeah. They also decided to count a bunch of my other super work; at least those adventures that I wrote up for credit. Which means I could have my degree as early as next Spring! Or, if I still need some hours they'll count us giving more clinics next Summer."

"Great! They're counting my stuff, too. No idea whether they're comparing the things we did together, though."

Energia frowned at her friend.

"Okay, give. What's bothering you?"

"Is it that obvious?" said Vic, with a tired sigh.

"Yeah. So, spill."

"Michelle and I put down a deposit on a larger apartment," said Vic. "We got a good deal because the previous renter died unexpectedly, and the manager gave us a big discount on the deposit for cleaning out his stuff. However, while we were boxing his belongings and preparing them for storage his parents showed up to do the same thing. With a guy we didn't know who said he was the manager."

"Ow!" said Energia, wincing. "So, you got scammed by someone pretending to be the manager?"

"Yeah, only it wasn't that simple. The guy we signed a contract with and paid even had keys to the apartment! We did most of the work cleaning out the apartment and lost our deposit and first three months of rent. The bank which cashed the check is refusing to say who owned the account, unless somebody gets a court order making them do so. I checked with the local federal housing offices to see what sort of recourse we might have for getting our money back, and they said there had been several such scams in the city recently. The folks I talked to weren't directly involved, since they're federal and these crimes are all local, but they recommended someone in the city government to talk to about our money. They said they can't help us, at least not right now, since the investigation is ongoing. They did tell me they suspect several local landlords are working with a small group of criminals to arrange all this, taking their cut from the fake landlord, then legitimately renting the property after the scam is discovered."

"Whoah..."

"So the feds might become involved, after all. Called in because it appears that some city officials and police officers - and maybe even one or more banks - are involved in the scam. Meanwhile, Michelle and I are out several hundred dollars each. Plus the time spent working on the cleanup. Plus we also had to tell out current landlord we weren't moving out the first of January. He was pretty upset at that, since he'd already found a renter!"

"Ow, again," said Energia, sympathetically.

Vic was about to say something about how their existing rent had been increased because of all that, but was interrupted by another TA entering the lounge.

"Say, did you hear?" said Mark DuBois. "That ship carrying Constantine's treasure vanished!"

"Oh, boy," said Energia, alarmed. "That's not good. On multiple levels."

"Yeah. Everyone involved is keeping the details secret, but the cargo ship the container was on apparently got caught in a North Sea storm. The ship got off a couple of calls to the local maritime authority about problems with waves, then went silent. They're planning to send planes out to search as soon as the winds allow."

They talked for a while about the possible ramifications if the ship was lost. Then the two supers had to leave for classes.

Later that day, Energia used the recently installed secure communications system at the school to call the Pine Island Academy and talk about the matter with her team leader. So far the connection was voice and flat image only, with no 3D video, but it would do.

"Y'know, I am worried about the crew," said Energia, thoughtfully. "However, there could be a lot more lives at stake if Constantine thinks this is part of some plot against his country - or him - instead of a simple accident. Or a simple theft by a third party... which it very well could be."

"I'm sure many people are taking that into consideration," said Blue Impact dryly. "However, Constantine has mellowed a lot in the past fifty years."

"Well, even if he has, his reputation is working against him."

"A lot of people are already working on this," said Blue Impact. "If the ship still hasn't been found by the time you are ready to leave the college for the holidays, I might call Tricorne together then to help. I don't see us going to the North Sea, but we could run background on the shipping company and anyone else on the eastern seaboard who might have been involved. "

"I'll stay available, then," said Energia, nodding.

* * *

One reason Vic had stayed late at the college was due to her favorite teacher. She wanted to wait until Coach Trujillo was finished with teaching his regular classes for the semester. He was popular enough during a school term that he kept getting requests for meetings or help with special projects, sometimes even after hours.

Vic knew Coach Trujillo would be spending the holidays alone again, which was why she made a point of stoping by to visit just before leaving. She also knew he would be in his office this time of day, making preparations for some remedial teaching he was doing during the month when most of the students and teachers would be off. However, Vic was a bit surprised to find him stalking a fly in the small room. He deftly caught it and - with a smile and nod of welcome to Vic - carried it to his windowsill terrarium. There he just as deftly tossed the insect into one of the open maws of his Venus flytrap.

"Oh, hey," said Trujillo, finally waving at Vic. "Just giving Audrey her holiday present. I want to make sure she's well fed and watered, since I will likely be out of the office a few days in a row a couple of times this month."

"You should use chopsticks to catch those flies," said Vic, grinning. "By the wings."

Vic already knew the name of the - admittedly thriving - little carnivorous plant, but not the origin of that name. She figured it was from some old girlfriend, or something like that.

Vic made pleasant conversation as they both took seats at the martial arts instructor's desk. She didn't go into much detail about her holiday plans, since that involved staying with Michelle's parents for several days. She didn't want to remind her trainer that he was going to be alone. However, her just being there was enough for that. Or at least to make him think of some depressing things. After several minutes of innocuous conversation, the pair fell silent.

"I envy you," said Trujillo, after a bit of silence, the two of them seated on opposite sides of his modest desk. "Successful super career. Accepting family and girlfriend. Promise of a federal LEO career. Possibility of a teaching career. Regeneration, so you stay young. That last I really envy. I am having more and more trouble just staying in good shape, and I'm not quite sixty, yet."

"Yeah," said Vic, grinning, "but remember, what you call good shape most people call peak human fitness!"

"Heh. There is that."

"Also, you haven't been keeping up with recent medical developments. Between data we got from the Shilmek and super brains working on biology, they're already approving anti-aging treatments. There are even outpatient regeneration treatments. Those aren't as fast or thorough as the power or using one of the tanks - though even those are getting cheaper - but it's still regeneration."

"You're right," said Trujillo, startled. "I haven't been keeping up."

"I think the college's medical benefits include getting into trials for that stuff, too." Vic grinned, glad she might have helped lighten the mood of her teacher and friend. "The whiners are already complaining that this makes traditional retirement obsolete, and we'll never be able to refresh the workforce or get stodgy old scientists out so we can get new blood in. The optimists are pointing out that with fewer children being born and the average age of the population increasing, we need these treatments to keep vital job positions filled."

"Heh..." said Trujillo, again, though he looked more thoughtful this time. "Well, you've given me a lot to think about. Which I will think about, thank you. Now, go have a good holiday."

"Than you, coach!" said Vic, bouncing out of her chair and waving as she headed for the door.

Part Three

"Good morning, Mr. Logsdon!" one of the attendants called out, smiling and waving as he crossed the street ahead.

"Good morning, Andrew. How are we doing on our first day?

"So far, so good. I guess we're all waiting for the other shoe to drop, but right now it's busy but mostly under control."

Anyone happening upon this newly opened, gated community by accident - or with a mistaken idea of what the place was actually for - would have been very, very shocked at the scene unfolding there, this first day of operation. In part the deception was deliberate; those behind the project wanted it to be well started before anyone could muster objections.

There were multiple men and women in costume walking around the community, most of them obviously well past conventional retirement age. Actually, a huge portion of the population here was elderly, whether costumed or not. Even among the nots, there were frequent - and generally casual - demonstrations of powers. Some of these demonstrations were the result of someone deliberately showing off. Ironically, nearly all those making use of this place and the services it offered were heroes. Most criminal supers either didn't survive to old age, were still in prison in old age, or simply wouldn't trust such a facility, regardless of age.

One of the more unusual sights - as compared to what one might see in public places in the nearby city - was the number of what many might consider inappropriate couples. These pairings (and the occasional larger groups) of heroes were obviously on intimate terms, and included several same-sex duos. They even included a leavening of some people who were normally considered villains. Many of those in these groups were in easily recognized costumes.

The recently opened Elysian Fields complex was a retirement and care center for elderly and/or disabled supers. As a private facility dedicated to the special requirements of aging supers with their unusual health care needs, it should have been expensive to the point of being out of the reach of all but a few people, super or not. However, funding from many wealthy supers and supporters of supers (one of the latter being the still-recovering Edward Logsdon) had reduced costs for patients to something quite reasonable.

Logsdon had been inspired by his own need for physical and mental therapy after his misadventure with the minions of Artemis Franks. He had helped design some of the specialized equipment here, which was unique to both this place and built with the needs of its unusual occupants in mind. He had also called in favors from other engineering geniuses to help with this effort. One of their major breakthroughs was the application of specialized robotics to eldercare. That promised to have far wider application than fulfilling the requirements of this one retirement community.

As important as those things were, his real contribution was finding good people trained in the needed professions and convincing them of the worthiness of this cause. He'd not only found doctors willing to work with older superhumans and their... interesting health problems, but several other sponsors to help with the bills. Together they had funded the original construction, hiring and equipping. They had also set up trusts to keep this enterprise going for the foreseeable future. The head doctor, many of the other staff members and most of the donors were people who had been directly saved at least once by a super.

Logsdon looked around with pride as he walked - slowly and with a significant limp, depending on both a cane and the muscular and dedicated young man who was his constant attendant these days - towards the administration building of the senior complex. There was a medical center and an assisted living apartment building, but most of the living quarters were single homes or duplexes. One of the things which helped this setup work was making clear to the occupants that neighbors were expected to look out for each other. Something former team members took to naturally, though some of the others were harder to convince. Either to help, or to accept help. They were coming around, though.

Logsdon smiled. He had enjoyed the challenge, despite the tight deadline they had given themselves. Those behind the project had managed to get this place laid out and the basic components built and in operation before anyone who might object realized what they were actually doing. Logsdon's experience in real estate had helped with that, and had also been more important than his mechanical engineering talent. Not that there had been any deliberate deception involved. They had just made certain that the people and agencies to whom they made explanations did not have any information they didn't specifically ask for.

"Good morning, Mr. Logsdon!" called a middle-aged man in a nice suit, as he went by on the far side of the broad, clean street with its rounded curbs.

"Good morning, Howard!" Logsdon called back, smiling and waving with his cane.

Howard Diddlebach was another visitor on this day, here to help his mother get settled in. He was also very, if quietly, happy to get his increasingly difficult to control mother into the facility. As Loop Lass she had been a renowned hero in the Fifties, but these days she was deep in dementia. Half the time - or more, lately - she thought she was still a young, masked heroine, darling of the press. Here, she was tended by people who were both familiar with her history and her problems, and physically capable of restraining her when that was necessary. Helping this was that many of her friends and former teammates were also here.

Christmas was promising to be especially bright this year. At least for some people.

* * *

Jenny sighed as she stood looking out the window of her childhood bedroom. It was too small for her, now - literally and metaphorically - but in spite of her hints, her parents just assumed she'd use this instead of the larger guest bedroom. While this room did have a better view, she would have liked more space. Especially for sleeping. The old bed in here was significantly smaller than the one in the apartment she rented at college.

Still, there was nothing like a home-cooked meal prepared by the person who fixed your food during your formative years to help improve your mood. Jenny sighed again, but this time it was a contented sound, as she contemplated what her mother had planned for supper. Speaking of which, she'd better go help...

* * *

"Argh..." said Champion, eloquently, as she sank into her chair at the big table in the Assembly's conference room.

Though there were two dozen seats around the huge, oval table and the room had ultramodern teleconferencing equipment, just now only the team members were present and the communications gear was off. Thanks to excellent engineering, everyone could be easily heard, but there were no annoying echoes. All those present were wearing distinctive costumes, and most wore masks. Some of those costumes currently looked a bit worse for the wear.

"I didn't think you got tired," said Thunderer, teasing.

As the team's energy projector she generally played sharpshooter and close support artillery during their field activities, while staying out of the actual melee. However, she could definitely take care of herself in a fight. Since she was often working well behind the others - sometimes from a high vantage point - this was a good thing, as she occasionally got jumped. Fortunately that sort of event was, indeed, rare, given how fast the Assembly tended to move when on the assault and how well they kept eyes on each other. As testified by her nearly immaculate costume, this had not been one of those times when she needed to get physical.

"I can, but I'm not," said Champion, absently. Forearms resting on the edge of the table, she spread her hands. "I'm aggravated. This missing treasure problem is getting to me. We've chased down leads, investigated smuggling rings and black market collectors, staked out high-priced underworld pawn shops, and who knows what else. Nothing. We're still not even sure it was stolen, instead of actually being sunk in a storm. I just wish someone would give us more information, since we can't seem to uncover anything on our own. Though, given the circumstances, I can understand why they won't."

"That's the way to bet, though," said Dr. Gorgeous, one of those not wearing a mask, and whose costume could almost pass for some corporate laborer's jumpsuit with tool belt.

This last mission had been one of the few where she went into the field, due to the team realizing ahead of time that her data access and processing expertise would be needed to asses what they hoped to find. Like Thunderer, she usually kept to the rear. In this case, she had actually been with Thunderer.

"Too much of a coincidence to actually be a coincidence, to a high degree of certainty," Dr. Gorgeous continued. "Even if no-one is saying this in public, yet. On the off chance it was a legitimate disaster, our activities are uncovering multiple crimes and deterring others, justifying them anyway. Meanwhile, several governmental agencies plus aquatic supers and teams with gadgeteers are searching the North Sea floor for the ship. Even the Walrus is pitching in."

"If the job was easy, anybody could do it," said Maciste, the other maskless member, grinning.

"Hard I can deal with," muttered Champion, drumming her gloved fingers on the table. "Frustrating is a different matter."

"You're looking for a problem you can beat into submission," said Dr. Gorgeous, with a slight smile. "This probably isn't one of those."

Champion looked around at the team. It was the same size as the one she had helped found, only a few years before, though the membership had changed some. There was her, Dr. Gorgeous, Maciste, Sharma and Thunderer, with a sizable and competent staff to support them and the occasional special guest star. With the exceptions of Maciste and Dr. Gorgeous, none of them had any close relatives. At least not anyone they would want to spend holiday time with. The team had - for all of them - become a family. Like any family, some members didn't always get along with all of the other members, but in dangerous situations they worked together smoothly and without hesitation. She felt very proud of what their little team had become.

"Well, there's still time before Christmas to find that cargo container," said Thunderer, optimistically, "whether it sank naturally in a storm or was stolen."

"Especially with so many different groups looking for it," said Champion, nodding a bit. She glanced at the team's mystic. "It helps that situations needing super help are otherwise uncommon, just now. Still, I just wish... Sharma, you got any clues about all this?"

"It will end where it began," she said, sagely.

"Which is what you and all the other mystics have been saying for days," said Dr. Gorgeous, rolling her eyes. "Which is why so many of us are checking ports and shipyards here on the east coast of the US. So far with no solid results."

"I stand by what I said," said Sharma, as close as Champion had ever seen her to being petulant.

* * *

After spending a few days with her immediate family, Jennifer Toulon was now heading to the home of her aunt and uncle and cousins for a Saturday visit. She had already shipped her presents, and wasn't planning to stay overnight, much less for the upcoming holiday. This was just a day trip for her, even though it was something like three hours away by car and longer than that by commercial aircraft. Such a trip - and such an attitude - not being uncommon for someone who could fly. Straight line flight, even at highway speed, was so much quicker and more efficient. Protected by her jumpsuit, Energia could comfortably fly much faster than a car could legally travel.

She wore her stealth jumpsuit during the entire flight, landing in a wooded area near her extended family's house. She made certain she was unobserved, then stripped out of the hooded garment and stowed it in her backpack, with her costume and a few other items. Jenny felt a bit awkward in her barely-worn civilian clothes. Partly because these required much more straightening after being freed from the jumpsuit than did any of her costumes. She walked the short distance to the street where her relatives lived, then casually strolled to their front door and rang the bell.

They were expecting her, of course. Surprise visits were not a good idea for superheroes, kin or not. Her Aunt Karen quickly answered the door and gave Jenny a welcome hug.

"Come on in! Randy is at the grocery but will be back soon!"

As Karen closed the door, her youngest arrived.

"Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny..." yelled Sarah, running into the room, arms wide in eager anticipation.

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah!" said Jenny, laughing as she squatted and hugged her cousin.

"Hi, Jenny!" said Roy, looking briefly around the corner from the family room and waving, before ducking back out of sight.

The two adults looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Roy!" Karen called. "Aren't you going to say hello to Jenny?"

"I did!" came his hurried, irritated response.

"Well, do you have any homework for the weekend?"

"But Maaaaaaa!" the nine year old whined. "Square Sponge Pants Bob is on!"

"As soon as that's over, then. I don't want you waiting until Sunday night again. Also, next commercial you come into the kitchen and greet your cousin properly!"

"I diiiid...!"

"What-the-Sponge-what?!" said Jenny, as the trio of females walked into the kitchen.

"It's an animated kids' show," said Karen, translating her niece-in-law's query. "About a superhero who turns into a giant sponge and goes around cleaning up messes. Very pro-super. As well as very whimsical."

"Oh. Okay. I guess." Jenny shook her head. "I've hardly looked at any TV in the past few years, and that was mainly news and educational shows. I'm completely out of touch with current children's programming."

"I was the same way after I got out of college," said Karen, with a reassuring smile. "Now, though, I have to know what's on. Because they do."

She was quiet for a bit, watching as Jenny and Sarah socialized. However, the younger super could tell her aunt was thinking about something.

"I wonder..."

"About what?" said Jenny, looking up from her cousin.

"When folks were first talking about sending super children to a supers-only school we knew there would be unforseen consequences. We now know that one of those consequences is that you and others who attended in costume seem far more at ease in your costumes than in, well, civilian clothing."

"That's hardly surprising," said Jenny, with a grin. "I rarely wear 'civilian' clothing these days. Haven't for years. I'm more used to my costume. It's no big deal."

"Except when you need to dress as a civilian," Karen pointed out, smirking. "Like now. You have the front of your blouse tucked in but not the back."

"Oh, that's the way they're wearing them these days," said Jenny, laughing.

"Riiiiight..."

* * *

"Babe, shouldn't you be packing?" said Michelle, upon seeing Vic slumped on their couch, watching a holiday special on TV.

"I only need ten minutes to pack," said Vic, bragging a bit. "Five if I hurry."

"You are such a boy!" said Michelle, smirking.

"Oh, yeah?" said Vic, playfully, grinning and sitting up straight. "You wanna come over here and sit in my lap and say that?"

"Seriously. If you don't go pack - and spend time and thought on it - I'll pack for you. If I do I'll make sure it's full of frilly, girly things."

"If you want me to, I'll wear them," said Vic, affectionately.

"You would, wouldn't you?" said Michelle, with a fond smile.

"For you, you bet."

"Yeah, well, you're not distracting me this time. Get packed! Properly!"

"Yes, mother..."

"Don't forget the case with your armor, either! You know that if you do you'll get an emergency call!"

"Honey," said Vic, gently, "you know there's a good chance I'll get an emergency call either way."

"Go! Pack!"

Within three quarters of an hour Vic and Michelle were loaded into Monstro - Vic's Corolla wagon - and rolling. Michelle's family lived just over an hour's drive away from the college. While Vic had met them before, this was the first year the pair would be spending the holidays there. She just hoped Michelle's folks were as adaptable as Vic's own, weird tribe.

* * *

"Hi, Jenny!" Randy exclaimed, giving his niece a long, fierce hug at the kitchen door. "Glad to see you're already here. You can help bring the groceries in."

"Hold on. The car's in the garage. Why not just close the kitchen shades and use your super speed?"

"Then I'd have to do all the work," said Randy, cheerfully, while Karen laughed. "Besides, I don't like my eggs pre-scrambled."

In the attached garage, Jenny and Karen lined up to take the bags as Randy pulled them out of the hybrid SUV. He chatted amiably with them about how crowded the grocery had been and how bad the traffic had been. There were enough groceries that each of them needed to make two trips, with Randy grabbing the last three bags then using the remote to close the vehicle's rear door. The SUV was already plugged in to top off charge.

Once the bags were all on the kitchen counters or the big, central table Jenny's aunt and uncle began putting things away. She jumped in to help, with the two older supers occasionally directing their niece on where the things she grabbed went. Jenny found it amusing that they often disagreed on just where a particular item belonged. She also noticed that neither of their children even made an appearance during the work.

That chore done, they sat down around the table to chat. Unfortunately, after only a few minutes of this, Jenny's phone rang.

"Gotta take this," she said, after a quick check.

While her Aunt and Uncle checked their own "special" phones to make sure they hadn't missed some alert, Jenny went into the ground-floor bathroom, put on her mask and answered. She was happy to see who was calling, and greeted her warmly.

"You anywhere near the Intrepids' base?" said Solange, grinning at the enthusiastic welcome. The screens on their phones were small and the images were flat, but clear enough for them to read each others' expressions.

"A few minutes flying time," said Energia, noncommittally. "What's up?"

"There have been some new developments in the disappearance of the ship carrying the items to Moldaria. It was just released to several teams that the second-last set of messages from the ship actually reported that they were being boarded. They briefly went off the air, then came back and said that the alert was a false alarm. Right after that - before anyone could check on them - they reported being caught in the storm. Then nothing."

"Grand theft ship?" said Energia, startled.

"Yeah. We already knew that it appeared to have disappeared somewhere in the North Sea, during a major storm. The thieves may have hoped to use the storm to conceal their act. Anyway, we really need to get you here so you can join the conference call."

"I'll be at the Intrepids' base as soon as I can," she promised. Energia wondered why she was being summoned; then realized that pretty much everyone available on or near the east coast of the US was being called on to help with this.

As Jenny closed the folding phone, she had an odd feeling that there was more behind her friend's call than simply inviting her to the Intrepids' base for the briefing. She was so distracted that as she started to exit the bathroom she realized she still had her mask on. She pulled that off and quickly hunted down her aunt and uncle.

"Wow," said Randy, once Jenny had related the news. He glanced as his wife. "I guess they decided not to call us because of the kids."

"So, I need to get to the base."

"I'll go with you. Is that okay, Karen?"

"You don't think she'll want to go?" said Jenny, not sure of how that dynamic worked for this family.

"It's fine," said Karen, apparently meaning it.

"Someone has to stay with the kids, and I can get there and back a lot faster than she can. Even if she took the Subterran tunnel."

"Template is more active in hero work than Colossa is, anyway, these days," said Karen, a bit wistfully.

She mock-glared at her husband.

"Just don't go volunteering either of us for anything which will keep us away from home for the holidays, alright?"

"Oh, yeah," said Randy, with a short laugh.

Part Four

"I didn't realize you didn't have one of these stealth suits until you said you'd meet me on the way," said Energia, as she caught up with Template.

The older super was flying slowly, waiting for her niece.

"Yeah," said Template, with a shrug, as the duo picked up speed. The older woman's cape began snapping in the slipstream. "I just zip out from under the back porch at super speed as Randy, get well away from home then change while flying."

"That's a lot neater than what I have to go through," muttered Energia. She had needed to put her costume on in the bathroom, then put her stealth outfit on over that before sneaking out of the house. She would have to wait until they were in the Intrepids' base before taking the jumpsuit off. "Anyway, we're clear and on our way."

* * *

"Yes!" cheered Solange, as the news of who was coming for the conference spread through the base. "Company! Mostly virtual, but some of it real people!"

"Has it really been that slow, lately?" said Jet Jaguar, tongue in cheek. The team had, in fact, been very busy. As had most teams in the region, along with much of the solo mask community.

"She's just happy to see Energia and Template again," said Rapscallion, smirking.

"Of course I am! Energia is a lot closer to my age than any of you," grinning, she swept her pointing finger around in an arc to take in the rest of the team, already assembled in the main conference room, "and Template and I share something none of you can understand."

"Ah, youth," said Rapscallion, hamming it up. "So easily made happy by trivial joys."

"Do you want me to short-sheet you again?"

"That doesn't sound like much of a prank," said Jet Jaguar, quietly to Bowman, as the duo continued their good-natured bickering.

"He was still in the bed at the time," said the Black Mask, startling him.

"Yeah," said Bowman, who was used to the Black Masks's sneakiness. Or at least had learned not to react. "Took three of us to get him out of it."

* * *

"Please let me know if I ever get jaded with flying," said Energia, with a contented sigh, as she and Template descended gracefully to towards the large boulder in the garden on top of Intrepids Mountain. They had already called in for clearance to land.

"Ditto," said Template, as the hidden door in the rock face opened for them. "Or maybe shoot me. Just to get my attention, mind you."

Soon, Energia and Template were in the main conference room of the huge, new base. Ironically, due to building it from scratch it actually had less developed space than the old, destroyed one, but all of that in the new one was easily accessible. After quick greetings, the flying duo joined with the members of the team in the main meeting room. The new facility was now fully operational, though use was still revealing a few areas where changes were needed. Energia continued to think that it felt too clean, almost sterile. That it lacked the character of the old base.

"Hey," said Template, grinning, when she heard Energia mutter something about that, "it still has that new base smell."

Energia did like the team's holographic video conference setup, though. It was a full generation newer and the images were therefore much clearer and more solid-appearing than those produced by the setup at Blue Impact's lair. Here they also did not need to have the ambient lighting dimmed and the sound muted. Most of the rig was built into the ceiling of the room and the images were projected in miniature on the top of the table. Controls at each seat allowed a separate image to be displayed in front of that position, plus many other options. Energia leaned in close to Template and spoke in a low voice.

"I think I'm experiencing a touch of equipment envy," she said. She suddenly straightened and sobered as the leader of the Intrepids stood.

The holographic conference equipment in the room was activated. In rapid sequence, several images of individuals and small groups appeared on the table. The Black Mask coordinated, naming those who were participating and announcing the purpose of the conference. Energia was surprised at how many she recognized. As well as how many seemed to recognize her. Once more, it hit home with her that she was no longer a novice mask, a youth in her early teens, being closely supervised by those more experienced. She was definitely playing with the big kids, these days.

"People are now certain the ship was stolen," said the Black Mask, summing up at the end of his preliminary statement.

"Hijacked," said Blue Impact, over a conference channel from the Pine Island Academy. She had planned to spend the holidays on that subtropical paradise - likely in the company of a local male - but events seemed to be conspiring against her intentions. "Yes. Everything seemed fine until there was a sudden Mayday from the Storm Defiant as it was heading for a North Sea storm. They got off several calls about 'pirates,' including a report that the ship was being boarded. Then the voice communication went dead.

"After a few anxious minutes, the Captain came back on and reported that the previous alert had been a false alarm, and that they were hard at work skirting a storm and he couldn't talk any more just then. Shortly after that, the telemetry showed the ship turning to head directly into the storm. Then that quit, too. Multiple checks have found no sign of the ship. Constantine, himself, flew out to search for it or the crew in lifeboats. Neither he nor anyone else has found any sign of the Storm Defiant, on the surface or below. The hypothesis is that the hijackers shut down the electronics then changed course a second time, while the ship was concealed by the storm. They probably intended to do all this before they got too deep into the storm, but satellite photos and local weather reports show the storm moved in more quickly than expected and was also larger.

"The hijackers may have proceeded according to plan, and avoided the worst of the storm. Or the ship may have sunk in the storm. That last seems unlikely, since it was a sound craft with a crew experienced with North Sea storms, and no debris has been found."

"Has there been any sign of the ship?" said Dr. Gorgeous, from the Assembly's conference room.

"None. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. Actually, there's no guarantee either of those scenarios is the right one, of course. Some people are even speculating that the ship was teleported or dimensionally shifted. However, moving something that big either of those ways couldn't be concealed."

"As far as we know," said Bowman, pointedly. "Super geniuses are always coming up with ways around the known limits."

Well, it took one to know one...

Champion, like Dr. Gorgeous participating through the slightly older secure communications equipment at the Assembly base, shook her head. She then mentioned something which had obviously been on her mind for a while.

"It's astounding that all those treasures - including the packaging - could fit into one shipping container."

"One very heavy shipping container," said the Black Mask. "The total volume of the items is surprisingly small - they fit in one of the small vaults at Fort Knox with room left over. There's also more room in those shipping containers than people unfamiliar with them realize. Keep in mind, though, that there was a lot of gold, silver and other precious metals involved, as well as gems."

"Oh. Right. Wow; I hope it didn't sink."

"It's not just an ordinary shipping container, either," said the Black Mask. "It is designed to look like one from the outside, but it is armored and equipped with sophisticated security measures. Which makes me wonder why it hasn't called for help on its own. Though, yes, it would definitely sink without external support. The overall density was high."

"Anyway, right now Constantine is asking the civil authorities and super volunteers look for the crew, special cargo container and ship as a whole, in that order of priority," said Blue Impact. She sighed. "He hasn't said how long he'll wait before doing... something else."

Why the Pine Island Academy was relaying this information instead of - for example - one of the European super teams who were looking for the ship was not explained. That Constantine had some connection with the island school had long been known, even if the nature of that connection wasn't.

"So, I guess pretty much everyone in the costumed adventurer business is at least thinking about where those things could be," said Energia, quietly.

"You better believe it," said Champion.

* * *

Once the meeting ended, Template had a quiet talk with the other members of the Intrepids, while Solange guided Energia to one of the smaller meeting rooms off the big one. The older super had maintained her composure during the conference, but now she seemed on the verge of exploding.

"Okay, what's got you so excited?" said Energia, once the door closed. She was trying to sound blasé but found her friend's attitude so contagious she was actually grinning.

"I'm engaged!" said Solange, almost squealing.

Energia stared at her in shock for a fraction of a second. Then recovered, masked the distress Solange's announcement cause her, and hugged her friend fiercely.

"Okay," said Energia, once they finally broke. "I guess that's why you've gone back to wearing the more risqué version of your costume, lately. Who is it?"

"You know The FX," said Solange, coyly.

"Yes..." said Energia, unable to match any of the members of that team - male or female - with Solange. Part of the reason for this mental paralysis being the surge of envy this announcement brought.

"Well, we've been working with them a lot the past few months."

"Who is it?" Energia demanded.

"Popcorn Dash."

"Yeah," said Energia, after a moment, nodding. "I can see that, actually. Well, congratulations to both of you!"

"Just... don't tell anyone yet, okay? We're trying to keep this low key and only letting a few people know at a time."

"Sure. And, again, congratulations!"

* * *

Once the discussions and a good deal of visiting were over, Template and Energia reversed their path back to the home of Randy and Karen. Energia was unusually quiet for the trip. However, Template was as well, though for a different reason.

After Karen was briefed, Jenny resumed her visit with her extended family. She kept quiet about the private news from Solange, as requested, but she was obviously distracted. Of course, so were Randy and Karen. In spite of these recent events, Jenny stayed the planned amount of time and promised to come back Christmas Day to see what presents everyone had gotten. Then, with her stealth jumpsuit back on over her civilian clothes, she flew home.

* * *

"Wow," said Jenny, watching the news with her parents, Juliette and Maximilian Toulon, that evening. "Things are really heating up over that missing ship."

The mundane news services had somehow picked up on the fact that the shipment to Moldaria had vanished, along with vessel and crew. Jenny didn't tell her parents that she'd had advanced information that the missing Storm Defiant was now strongly suspected to have been hijacked for its cargo.

"You don't think there'll be a war, do you?" said Max, worried, as the watched the evening news.

"Well, pretty much every team and singleton hero on the east coast is on the lookout for the ship. Blue Impact says that she wants to get Tricorne together the first week in the new year in part to help look for the ship. Depending on how things develop, we may get together sooner than that. So, consider yourselves warned."

Blue Impact had, indeed, called shortly after the news broke publicly. So Jenny was telling the truth.

"You mean you may miss Christmas?!" said Julie, scandalized.

"Not likely, but possible," said Jenny, reluctantly. She gave an exaggerated shrug. "That's the hero biz, for you."

"Well, we knew the job could involve inconvenient timing when she took it," said her father, smiling.

* * *

That same evening, the daily debriefing for The FX was mostly business as usual. Mostly.

"Last item on the local agenda: The police finally captured Glide Girl," said Coordinator, aka "Ma." "Turns out she's the daughter of a local politician. She willingly identified herself once she was caught, and she says her father knew she was a super but never told anyone. He just stopped having anything to do with her. So far, he hasn't commented."

"Wait," said Posey, startled. "Is her dad Mr. 'Rat on your family and friends if you think they're supers.' from the state senate?"

"If you're talking about Paul J. Pawle, good guess."

"Hypocrite, heal thyself," said Sircada, smirking.

"Anyway," said Ma, "that about wraps up local events, unless one of you has something?"

None did.

"Okay, now for the elephant in the room. Everyone is looking for the Moldarian treasure. Some more energetically than others. We are not officially on the hunt, but I want to ask if any of you have found any clues in this matter."

There was some uneasy shifting and a few muttered negatives.

"Not our business," said Isarda, firmly.

"Well, the question is, do we make it our business and more actively look for clues?"

Popcorn Dash and Posey were both enthusiastically in favor, though their motivations seemed rather different. Isarda was definitely against "wasting our time." Most of the other members were less than eager to participate in the hunt. Coordinator, staying neutral, noted that one member of the team was noncommittal.

"Stranger? What's your take on this affair?"

"It began where it will end," the Theoretical Stranger said, calmly.

"That doesn't help," said Tone, sourly.

"It wasn't meant to. It is merely the reality of the situation."

"We're looking for something useful, here," said Salamander, voice dripping with scorn.

"I was not asked to provide anything useful," said the Theoretical Stranger, still - as usual - calmly.

"That's enough," said Ma - Coordinator - when Salamander looked like he was going to respond with a retort. "I phrased my question that way deliberately. Now, anyone else have any suggestions in regard to this matter?"

"We need to keep working this," said Tone, perhaps a bit reluctantly. "However, there are a lot of other things which we should give priority."

"Which is my take on this," said Ma, nodding. "Okay, let's break for now."

* * *

The case of the missing ship actually developed far more rapidly than Jenny had hinted it might to her parents. In fact, two days later Blue Impact called her and Gadgetive to come to the old bakery. She wanted Tricorne to help with investigating the theft.

Unfortunately, a complication quickly developed which required Energia to make her own call for help.

* * *

Vic was playing video games with Michelle and her siblings when her phone gave one of its special rings. She quickly excused herself, abandoned her character to its doom and went into the hallway outside the den to answer.

"I hate to bother you during the holidays, but..."

"Listen," said Vic, quietly but intensely, "right now I'd love a valid reason to get out of here."

"In-laws are that bad?"

"They're wonderful people," said Vic, "but they won't quit trying to keep me entertained!"

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

The martial artist turned a bit further away from the door and bent even closer to her cell phone.

"Michelle's father took karate in high school, and he keeps trying to 'teach' me things."

"Ow. Well, you remember that drunk driver I stopped?"

"Yeah?"

"He is fighting the charge. Only he's acting against me, even though the police have him on traffic cam and their dash and body cams and they're the ones who arrested him and the city is the entity pressing the charges. He managed to delay the alcohol test long enough - by demanding a blood test, rather than a breathalyzer - that by the time they got it he was just under the limit. Now he's decided to punish me for disabling his car. Since Ramsey is still being run by the feds, he got a federal judge to issue a ruling that I can't act in costume outside the corporate limits of Ramsey unless I'm in the company of a federal law enforcement officer. Meanwhile, Tricorne needs me for the Moldaria treasures case."

That was quite the info dump, thought Vic, with a smirk. She must be pretty upset.

"Didn't you have your evidence recorder running?" said Vic, referring to a device many costumed heroes carried to provide several forms of information on their activities.

"Yeah, I turned it on as soon as I got the notice about the drunk driver, but the police have it and it won't do me any good against this injunction until there's an actual hearing. Maybe not even until a trial. So, I need your help."

"Where are you?" said Vic eagerly.

"Blue Impact's lair. I had already flown here before the judge issued the court order."

Vic made her apologies to Michelle and the family and headed out within the hour.

* * *

"When's Vic coming in?" said Gadgetive, once Energia gave her the news.

"Twelve PM."

The energy/force manipulator had been enjoying catching up on some of her pleasure reading, sitting under the lamp on one end of the couch in the big lounge, legs folded under her. She wanted to get back to her book, but Gadgetive wasn't finished.

"Hold on... PM means post meridiem, or after Noon. However, unless you're on a twenty-four hour clock - which I know you aren't - twelve is either Noon or Midnight. Which do you mean?"

"Uh, twelve AM?" said Energia, puzzled. "Wait; isn't that before Noon? Now you've got me confused. Uhm, in time for lunch?"

"Finally!" said Gadgetive, rolling her eyes and giving an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose that's why teach is in the kitchen, putting together a big meal."

"Yeah; I already told her," said Energia. Giving up on reading, she closed her book on a marker, put it down on the end table and rose vertically from the couch so she could unfold her legs and walk to the kitchen. "I guess we should go help."

Fortunately, the east coast city where the old bakery was located was only a couple of hours away by road from Michelle's home town, and that was driving at the speed limit. Which Vic did. Mostly.

As before, the martial artist entered the old bakery through the roll-up door which gave access to the internal loading dock. Energia, who was waiting for Vic to park in the big room, gave her a warm but brief welcome. Vic noted that the other woman seemed to be in a hurry; Energia grabbed some of her luggage and headed for the elevator instead of taking it easy and gossiping some first. Or even on the way. For a change, Energia was actually more eager than the federal agent to eat, partly due to Vic being well feted while visiting Michelle's family. She quickly got Vic settled into her guest room, then down to the kitchen. The martial artist was suitably impressed with the lunch spread out on the lair's kitchen table. The others also welcomed her and she was escorted to her seat. By that time, as promised, it was just past Noon.

"Wow. Is this all for me?"

"Nah," said Gadgetive, grinning. "We're just hungry."

"Not all of it, but you're the reason teach went all out," said Energia. She grinned. "I think she likes having someone around who eats as much as she does, so we don't make fun of her appetite."

"Not funny," said Blue Impact, already digging in.

Vic looked around, seeming to search for something. Something on the floor.

"Say, where's the cat? He usually comes out to see what's going on."

"I left Beefeater on the island, this time," said Blue Impact. "Don't worry; he's in good hands."

"I knew that name was going to stick," muttered Gadgetive, sourly.

As usual, they didn't talk shop during the meal, but instead caught each other up on recent events in their lives. The others noted that while Gadgetive still wasn't exactly warm to Vic she did seem a bit more accepting.

"So," said Vic, once the dishes were in the washer, "where do we start?"

"Right now we're still looking for clues," said Blue Impact. "All of you, poll your contacts and see if they have anything to offer in this matter."

"Yeah, Energia and I don't really have any contacts," said Gadgetive.

"Speak for yourself, Miss Asocial," said Energia, smugly. "Some of mine duplicate some of Vic's, so I'll leave those to her, but I do have people to contact. Mostly in the Intrepids."

* * *

After lunch they got busy. The three youngest members retreated to private locations in the lair and made calls. However, Blue Impact - the only long-term resident of the city among the four - actually went out on her motorcycle. They all were finished in plenty of time for their evening meal.

During dinner preparation Blue Impact told the other three that she had gathered some solid clues - which was more than the rest of them had managed - but needed to do more work before she could know how likely they were to help. Once the meal was underway they again did not talk shop. Instead, Blue Impact - who seemed in a surprisingly good mood for someone who wasn't certain her discoveries would prove useful - mentioned something Vic had thought of before but never mentioned.

"It's no surprise you and I have such big appetites, since besides being very physically active, we both have regeneration," said Blue Impact. "It's unusual for two people in such a small group to have that."

"It's also unusual for two members of such a small super group to wear armor," said Vic, with a nod to Gadgetive. Who just kept eating.

"It's unusual for such a small group to have someone as powerful as me," said Energia, smirking. Gadgetive stuck her tongue out at her friend, while the other two just rolled their eyes.

That killed the topic, but not the discussion. Which ranged far and wide. Even Gadgetive had something to contribute.

"That tired, old myth of the Satanic Panic is back," she said, sourly, as they neared the end of the meal. "There's already several people charging police organizations for lessons in how to recognize 'satanic activity.' The scammers have even revived the idea that witches use baby fat to change shape."

"Not a good topic for a meal, Gadge," said Energia, with a grimace.

"Yeah," said Vic, nodding slowly. "About the scam, I mean. Well, both, but..."

She shook her head, focusing.

"Okay, the FBI has already sent out several bulletins to police departments all over the US about how some people - folks with no real qualifications - are offering expensive special clinics on how to identify satanists and which crimes are their work. Believing the scammers leads to many crimes being mishandled and innocent people being connected with them. I hear some police departments are even going back to illegal interrogation methods to force false confessions. Not just in this matter, either, though so far that seems to be where most of the offenses are occurring. Far too many folks seem to believe that it's okay to harass and deceive 'satanists' and 'witches' to get confessions, because they're 'evil.' Never mind the fact that no-one has any evidence that the people being tricked or forced are actually satanists or witches or even connected to the crime."

"How do people keep falling for these things?!" said Energia, startled.

"It runs on about a thirty year cycle, though some areas in the US lag or lead others," said Blue Impact, sounding tired. "That's long enough that some people have moved to other jobs, most of those still around have forgotten that the last cycle ended with the scam being debunked and the worst offenders prosecuted, and those who haven't forgotten are all card-carrying members of the conspiracy theory that the clinics were ended because the satanists bribed the politicians and the press to ignore their crimes."

"That's like the pogroms against supers," said Gadgetive, quietly. "They never learn."

"Oh, they learn," said Energia, tiredly. "Then, like teach said, they collectively forget."

"What's that saying about the gods themselves fighting in vain against human stupidity?" said Blue Impact, frowning as she tried to remember the origin of the quote.

None of the others had heard of the saying, and they decided it wasn't worth looking up. Not when there were dirty dishes to do.

Part Five

The quartet at the old bakery was again left at loose ends as evening moved towards night. The lack of solid leads on the missing treasures case was very frustrating. There just wasn't much they could currently do about that situation. Neither were there alerts on other activities where the help of Tricorne might be needed, to occupy their time. This was partly due to The FX. Though to be fair, since they were a public team most of their activities involved matters which Tricorne would not have even known about until too late for them to help. That evening the four found themselves gravitating to the TV area of the lounge. Vic found it odd how she had so quickly adapted to this situation, already thinking it not only familiar, but comfortable. She even had a specific place on the couch where she liked to sit. She hadn't spent that much time at Blue Impact's lair, but it was quickly becoming just another place where she sometimes hung out.

As usual, local and regional news was a popular topic for those in the old bakery, with a smattering of national and even international items for good measure. After watching one segment, Gadgetive seemed unusually amused by a local newscaster with a bad case of fumble-mouth. Of course, his verbal clumsiness was mainly due to his alarm at the level of emotion displayed by the man he was trying to interview.

"He's a good reporter," said Gadgetive, laughing after the segment ended, "but he occasionally gets his tang toungled."

"Yeah, well, in regard to the guy he was interviewing," said Energia, "I remember something Tiger taught, when he and TAL were guest instructors on the island."

"Which is?" said Gadgetive.

"If you have to scream to make your point, you don't have a point to make."

* * *

The next morning brought news that piqued the interest of those staying at the old bakery: There was to be another multi-team video conference on the matter of the missing ship, crew and treasures. Most significantly, this time Constantine himself would participate. Tricorne (plus Vic) were among those invited to join.

The communications center for Tricorne's base was actually one corner of the lounge area, a section which stood out in several ways. One of those was the color of the area; or, rather, the lack of color. The section could be closed off by and was lined with heavy, black curtains. Even the noise-absorbing tiles in the ceiling and the thick carpet in that corner of the floor were dark colors. This cut down on extraneous noise and light, helping the 3D process to work better. The pickups were positioned to only show that corner, which was otherwise blank. The display volume was on the far side of the twin pickup towers, which were also contained the stereo projection equipment.

The four at the bakery were all participating in the chat. The physical arrangement of the equipment meant they would literally be looking at those they were speaking to. The rig required a bit of preparation to use, which had Gadgetive fussing with it for a while.

"I'd like to have one of the newer rigs," said Blue Impact, when the team's gadgeteer finally gave the thumbs up. Fortunately, well before the conference. "Just can't justify it."

"We really need to choose a logo and get a banner and some business cards," said Energia, as she regarded the matt black surroundings. "I mean, having a nice banner with our team name and symbol, right there, where it would show during video calls would be great. This is just too bland. Too black! We look like we're floating in space."

"Useless decoration," said Gadgetive.

"You're just mad 'cause we don't like your suggestion for the logo."

"A logo is something we do need," said Blue Impact, speaking in a distracted fashion as she checked what they were wearing, to make sure there wouldn't be any video hotspots from reflected light, "but save that thought for later. Right now, everyone get ready. It's almost time."

Vic was left wishing she had an actual costume. Especially one as appealing as Energia's dress outfit. Vic settled for wearing her composite armor - which she had cleaned and given a coating intended to mute reflections - for the conference, though with her helmet deliberately left on an end table in the TV area. The other two members of Tricorne were also in fancier than usual versions of their costumes. Vic felt even more underdressed once the conference began, especially given the harsh lighting the 3D equipment here required. There were six teams involved - counting the folks at Pine Island as a team - and all the participants were garbed for the occasion. Even the Black Mask seemed better dressed than usual, though with him that was difficult to tell. He was about as hard to see clearly - and for the same reason - as the Black Badge had been.

The images of all the participants were projected in miniature beyond the two masts, appearing to be at a greater distance than the curtained-off area actually allowed. When someone spoke, their image was immediately transfered to the center of the display area, and made life sized or a bit larger. Which definitely made obvious who said what.

Some of those participating were standing, as was the quartet at Blue Impact's lair. Some were seated, usually around a table with an overhead projector/scanner. Constantine was among the former. He was in his government office, in his dress uniform, which meant those who knew him could relax a bit. His large, ornate desk was just behind him. The Black Mask - the moderator - now also stood. The muted chatter on the conference link quieted.

"Let's get one thing out of the way first," said the Black Mask, addressing Constantine directly. "Do you have any reason to suspect complicity on the part of the crew?"

"I've known Captain Alexiad Pawlikowski for over thirty years," said Constantine, flatly, his impressive baritone voice carefully schooled. "I don't believe he would willingly betray me. Likewise, he is a good judge of character and would be very careful in his choice of crew. Only a few on the Storm Defiant knew they would be transporting the container with our treasures before the news was leaked on the day of departure. None knew the details of their course, including Captain Pawlikowski, until after they left port. While complicity is possible, I consider it very unlikely."

"The key word there," said the Black Mask, staring unflinchingly at Constantine, "being 'willingly.' Even ignoring things like drugs and mind control powers, there are threats to his family or his crew. Also, modern voice synthesizers are very convincing. Especially over a digitized audio link."

"All of which I know," said Constantine, impatiently.

The Black Mask changed subjects. Constantine knew he would independently check all this, but wouldn't bring up the topic again unless he found something.

The session which followed was excruciatingly polite. Everyone knew that Constantine was very angry over this matter - more due to the missing men than the missing treasure - and went to great lengths to share what they knew without engaging in any more speculation than was absolutely necessary. Small talk was also avoided. One result was that the conference went quickly.

"Well, unless someone has some last-minute information, I believe that is all for now," said the Black Mask, as inscrutable as ever.

The various groups and individuals made their farewell statements, and the conference ended.

* * *

There were things which could be done to occupy time until more clues were found. Training was one of them. Maintenance of Blue Impact's lair was another.

Most teams were large enough - in both number of members and infrastructure - to require a staff to maintain their headquarters. Tricorne had three members, with three occasional auxiliaries. Energia enjoyed the privacy and intimacy of having just a few people in the lair, but she sometimes envied The FX. Even that new team had people to sweep, cook and do laundry. Of course, they were also a public team, like the Intrepids and the Assembly. While access to their base was restricted their location was known. Which meant a good portion of their larger staff went towards security. They still had plenty of people to clean for them.

Then again, Tricorne had Gadgetive. Who might need to have her energies directed towards a needed course of action at times, but who was very handy to have around when it came to getting things done at the lair. Just now, the gadgeteer was putting the finishing touches on her third-generation combined floor cleaner-cat entertainment unit.

"Solved the stairs problem with this one," she bragged, wiping grease from the back of her hand across her forehead. "Finally had the idea that instead of having to climb the stairs it just needs to call the elevator."

"So how does it clean the stairs, then?" said Blue Impact, patiently.

Gadgetive froze for a handful of seconds. Then began swearing in five languages.

"At least she didn't try to put a gun on this one," said Energia, smirking.

"We need active security!"

"Arming a drone counts as a trap," said Vic. "Traps are illegal since they don't have any judgement. Even the military found out the hard way that they need to have an actual person - someone with training in using lethal force - running their drones to avoid tragedies."

"Don't you ever carry a gun?" said Gadgetive, sounding peeved. She might have been trying to make some indirect point about the importance of being armed.

"I had to qualify with several firearms to get my badge," said Vic, unconcerned. "Have to requalify periodically, too. However, I've never used one on the job. Never even tried to. Since there's almost no metal in any of my other gear, I figure I'm better off without carrying an easily detectible hunk of steel. Not so much as a pocket knife. I even try to avoid having change on me."

"She has a point," said Energia, nodding. "If that jerk Leon had actually had a good level of skill he could have seriously hurt me or even killed me, instead of just bruising me badly. Because he knew my powers don't work well against non-metals."

"I hadn't even thought of that," said Vic, startled. "I mean, I don't plan to fight you and there aren't that many supers with your kind of powers..."

"Three hundred forty-eight," said Energia, absently. "As of last count."

"Buh, wha..."

"Well, only a few of those have my exact mix. That number is for how many have powers involving magnetism in some way."

"Well, that's a little more reasonable," said Vic, obviously still a bit boggled. "I assume that's for the entire Earth."

"Yeah."

"Wait," said Gadgetive, holding up both hands. "Do all the super agents of the Bureau have to qualify with firearms to be field agents? Even Brade?"

"Yep," said Vic, grinning.

"Weird. Since most of the Bureau's actual LEOs are far more dangerous without a gun than a norm would be with one."

"Which may be why so many people are afraid of supers," said Blue Impact, tiredly.

* * *

The Pine Island Academy constantly had many problems to deal with, which was one reason many of the staff stayed over the holidays and others made frequent trips back during that period for special meetings. The elevator connection to the ancient Subterran tunnels helped with this commuting, at least for those without travel powers.

That plethora of problems didn't mean the staff weren't collectively at least brainstorming ways they could help with the search for the missing Storm Defiant and its contents. It also didn't mean that at least part of the motivation for staying over or visiting during the Northern Hemisphere's Winter wasn't the great climate and beaches available on the island.

"We need to get more data," said Junker, at a weekly staff meeting. "We should send the probes we're using to monitor the Puerto Rico Trench to help with the search. There's a lot of folks looking in a lot of different ways, including underwater, but those probes have sensors I doubt anything else in that area would have."

"Can they take the pressure?" said Lori Savage. "I don't recall how deep that part of the North Sea is."

"Not nearly as deep as the Trench," said Eve.

"That's right," said Lori, nodding. "I remember, now, the Trench is over ten times as deep as the deepest part of the North Sea."

"Those probes can actually go a lot deeper than we've had them in the trench," said Junker, confidently. "Their pressure vessels are made of FROP."

"'FROP'?" said Eve.

"Fiber-Reinforced Ordered Polymer," said Junker. "Those shells were originally developed for dropping probes into Jupiter and the other gas giant planets."

"Well, we can offer the services of our drones," said Eve. "However, only to the appropriate maritime authorities. We don't want to just barge in and perhaps interfere with another search."

"I'll get on it," said Junker.

* * *

Over the next few days, the frantic searching for the Storm Defiant located many wrecked ships, some thousands of years old. None were the missing cargo vessel. A report reviewing the situation came out one morning and was promptly circulated to hero teams, including Tricorne. It had little new information, except for eliminating possibilities. Currently, Vic and the members of Tricorne, were all seated around the coffee table in the lounge area of the lair, reading the report.

"One thing I find interesting, and even darkly humorous, is that several terrorist groups have claimed responsibility," said Blue Impact, dryly, as she leafed through her hardcopy. "Or they did, until Constantine made an announcement that any person or group claiming they had hijacked the ship would be treated as if they were actually involved, regardless of their real connection. The terrorists quickly shut up."

"Okay," said Energia, straightening from her printout, to briefly stretch and then frown. "If the ship isn't in the North Sea, where is it?"

"The closest thing to a straight answer any of the psychics have given is 'You must return to the beginning,'" said Vic, with a tired shrug. "I know from my Bureau training that there are things a knowledgeable person can do to confuse the mentalists and magical types. Looks like whoever is behind this knows the same tricks."

"What if the actual ship was hijacked well before it reached the North Sea?" said Blue Impact, thoughtfully. "In fact, as soon as it was safely out of sight of shore and any other ships? Then brought back to the East Coast... That would definitely confuse things, and not just for the mystics."

"Yeah," said Vic, nodding slowly. "An old trick, but still a good one. The Storm Defiant was deliberately traveling outside the usual shipping routes for much of the trip. The hijackers get control early, then rig another ship with the beacons from the cargo ship, use a radio relay to have the captain - likely with a gun to his head - send messages or respond to queries at a time when no-one is suspecting that anything's wrong... Later, they fake the distress call, shut everything off, maybe even dump it overboard..."

"The reports of pirates boarding just before the ship reached the storm could be standard mastermind overthinking," said Energia, eagerly. "The idea being to create a plausible red herring, something to provide a possible explanation which has nothing to do with what actually happened."

"Meanwhile, the real ship makes port some place where it won't be noticed, well before anyone thinks there's anything wrong," said Blue Impact, also nodding. "It's a small cargo ship. In a busy port, before it's reported missing it wouldn't be noticed. Especially if they faked another name on the bow before it got back to port."

"How would they keep hiding it, though?" said Energia. "Once news of the ship going missing started around, wouldn't people notice? I mean, we can't be the first people to think of this. Even the mundane authorities must have. If that is what happened, wouldn't someone have found the ship by now?"

"Not if it were some place out of the way, where people are paid to not notice things," said Blue Impact, who seemed to be mentally on the trail of something.

"Some sort of smuggler's dock, or something?" said Vic, who knew very little about ships or shipping; at least, the normal practice involved with operating those.

"That's not too far off. Many dockyards have areas which aren't much used, at least for legitimate business. Some have been empty going back decades, to when they were built during a shipping boom. Maybe even during one of the World Wars. There are docks, dry docks, also shipyards which have gone from building ships to unbuilding them..."

"Breakers," said Gadgetive, nodding. "It's a sometimes shady business, which can be used to dispose of evidence."

"I thought that was all done overseas, to take advantage of cheap labor," said Energia, frowning.

"The actual demolition of ships is," said Blue Impact. "However, there's a local business in this very city which will remove anything useable that isn't necessary for the actual operation of the ship, before a crew takes it overseas for demolition. They're infamous for disposing of evidence in some types of crimes, too."

"Then why are they still in business?!" said Gadgetive, outraged.

"That I do know about," said Vic, with a shrug. "Too little evidence, too much money brought in to the local economy from the work. The authorities occasionally catch individuals or small groups connected with that facility in crimes, but it's never traceable back to the owners. The facility is also one of the few companies anywhere on Earth who do this type of job. So there's a lot of incentive for the appropriate authorities to look the other way."

"How do you know about this?" said Blue Impact, looking at Vic. "You're not from this area and there doesn't seem to be any super involvement in that enterprise."

"They've been repeatedly investigated for federal crimes," said Vic, with another shrug. "Before my first time working with you folks, Brade made sure I was briefed on that and some of other problems in the area. She also makes sure I get updates before coming back here. Just in case. Well, except for this time. Not enough notice."

"I think this is something we need to talk to the local police and the Port Authority about," said Blue Impact, thoughtfully. "However, there's a few other people I want to talk to first. People who are in a position to hear things."

"There's shipyards and dry docks all up and down the coast, though," said Energia, frowning. "Checking all of them would take weeks, even with police help. How do we narrow it down?"

"Wait a minute," said Blue Impact, obviously getting an idea. She rose and hurried over to her corner.

While the others looked at each other, she got online and checked something.

"Yeah. That's it."

"What's what?" said Energia, walking over to the entrance to her boss' partitioned-off, private corner.

"Mano Dura mentioned something about workers being turned forcibly away from a dry dock where they saw activity and tried to apply for jobs," said Blue Impact, from the other side of the partition. "Nothing unusual about that, except in how, well, vigorous the response was. However, he also mentioned that one of his union contacts complained that something shady must be going on because there wasn't supposed to be any work at that dry dock, because it was out of service. He - Mano Dura - was just engaging in a general grousing; maybe with the expectation we'd help do something about the situation. I didn't think about it possibly being connected with the missing Storm Defiant until just now."

"Well, there's often something shady going on in ports," said Gadgetive, puzzled, as Blue Impact continued to work in her corner.

"Yeah. For some reason, though, this stuck out, and I mean to people who work in that port. Okay; yeah. That dry dock is officially out of service until it's repaired and recertified. So, at the very least, they're operating in violation of multiple regulations. Why take the risk, unless it's for a big prize?"

"That's your hunch?" said Vic, unconvinced. "Greedy people will take any risk they think they can get away with."

"That's my hunch." She grinned at Vic. "Remember, I've been at this a lot longer than any of you. I've learned when to listen to my hunches. We definitely need to check this. At the very least, we'll be stopping illegal and likely unsafe work in an old dry dock. Though, if it will make you happy, I'll do some more legwork before contacting the authorities."

Part Six

The quartet of supers met with the mixed team of law enforcement personnel at the headquarters of shipyard security early the next morning. A branch of the Port Authority, the security people had arrest powers, but for a much smaller territory and narrower range of offenses than the city police. There were the usual problems when Vic identified herself as federal LEO, despite both groups of non-supers being informed ahead of time that someone from the Bureau of Special Resources would be there. Not only did both groups think she was too young, but the head of shipyard security didn't know that the Bureau had any law enforcement authority. Still, these matters were quickly settled.

"Are you certain about this?" said the plainclothes police sergeant Blue Impact was talking to.

Vic, Energia and Gadgetive weren't certain - in that order - but maintained straight faces as their leader nodded.

"According to several of my contacts - including Mano Dura - this one particular dock received a ship of the right type days before the Storm Defiant was reported missing. A ship which had the name covered with a tarp. The dry dock - which is supposed to be out of service pending repairs - has also been blocking entry to local workers. Only people from outside the area have been allowed to work there, and they are all bussed in and out by the owner. They aren't allowed to speak to anyone or leave the dry dock area. They're practically prisoners."

"We have confirmed that the dock is supposed to be out of service," said the head of port security. "So, yes, that is suspicious. As well as illegal."

"If you'll support us before the judge, we shouldn't have any trouble getting a warrant for a raid," said the sergeant, to the security head. He then turned to the four costumed figures. "I would also definitely like super help with this. Not just because Constantine may be involved, either."

Normally, such a joint operation would not even be seriously considered. However, when told that Tricorne was looking for the ship carrying Moldaria's treasures both city police and port security were very eager to not be seen as impeding the investigation.

As was the judge. The warrant was quickly granted, and the three teams readied themselves. It helped that some of the members of Port Security remembered Tricorne - and Energia, especially - working to save lives and property in the aftermath of the Tritonicus II attack. It also helped that they now accepted Vic as a valid federal LEO, after calling to verify her status.

Preparations for the raid began. With luck, they would have the entire dry dock and surrounds under their control before lunch.

"You won't need those," said the city police sergeant, dismissively, as he saw Vic issue neutralizer counters to the members of Tricorne, before fastening one to her own belt. "Neutralizers are illegal."

Vic thought that was an odd position to take, given that the cops had all strapped on full riot gear, including heavy ballistic vests. It was illegal to resist arrest, too, as well as to shoot cops, yet he felt no hesitation about using those protections.

"We're talking about people who stole from one of the most powerful supers on the planet," said Vic, as she finished securing her counter unit to the belt on her armor, and making sure it was on. "Of course they're going to have neutralizers."

"They're illegal!"

"These people are criminals. They do illegal stuff all the time."

Vic ended the discussion by closing her helmet's visor with a distinct snap.

Energia wondered why this man - a cop who obviously was still working on the streets - was so adamant that because something was illegal criminals wouldn't have it. This wasn't the first time she had encountered the attitude, but it was usually found among purely administrative types. Bureaucrats who thought that if you passed a law against something, that would keep people from having or doing it.

Well, never mind. She focused on the job, as did the others in their three-lobed assault group. Each member of her own team - Tricorne plus Vic - was ready to go, and the two groups of LEO would be right behind them. The supers would be in the lead, mainly to draw any fire away from the two groups of cops.

The goal was to catch those working on the ship by surprise. They knew this might not happen; all it would take was one person on a smoke break seeing them approach and spreading the word. The quartet of supers therefore came in on foot, moving carefully from cover to concealment to cover. The ship was small in comparison to the dry dock. Even though it was on blocks, only the top of the smokestack and parts of some of the antennae were visible above the edge of the concrete-lined excavation.

"This is wrong," whispered Vic, as they used stacks of crates and tarp-covered piles to approach the open area around the dry dock. "There's no sign of anyone. No noises of people working, either."

"Yeah," said Energia, also quietly. They stopped behind a stack of crates, the last concealment before an open expanse of concrete between them and the midship gangplank. There were more crates and some idle equipment on the dock nearer the ship, flanking each of the gangplanks, but those were too far from other cover to help anyone approaching covertly. "This is creepy. Do you think they all left?"

"No," said Gadgetive, checking her instruments. "I'm getting several human-sized and -intensity heat sources from various hiding places on the dock and the ship, including just across from us. That may be why they have those things around dock ends of the access points. To hide the ambushers waiting there."

"Yeah," said Energia, nodding slowly. "I'm getting them too, now that you've pointed them out. I'm also thinking these other stacks of stuff near the ship are meant to channel people as they approach."

Gadgetive sent stealthy, flying drones around from either side to expand her scan.

"About twenty guys with guns," she noted. "All handguns, too. No rifles or shotguns. No neutralizers. I also see clubs and knives. They're on the ship in the middle, and behind the crates on the dock at the front, middle and back."

"I don't think those are professional gunmen," said Blue Impact, scowling uncertainly as she peered over Gadgetive's shoulder, trying to interpret the composite image. "They look like nervous but determined laborers."

"Could they be expecting someone else?" said Energia, frowning. "Not us or the cops, but some sort of gang attack?"

"Doesn't matter. We told the cops we'd go in first, so we go in first."

"What's our move, teach?" said Gadgetive, actually sounding eager.

"Intimidation. Energia, you up for Operation Rolling Lightning?"

"Just give the word," she replied, smirking. "I'm at full charge."

Blue Impact made sure each member knew her role, then gave the word, and they began. As Energia went high the others walked boldly out from behind the pile of crates they had been planning behind.

For a moment there was no response, and Blue Impact hoped that they might resolve this peacefully. Then someone yelled, and the shooting began.

Since all four were protected from such relatively minor attacks - Blue Impact by her dense tissues, Gadgetive and Vic by their armor and Energia by her plasma wall - none were particularly alarmed. As long as the bad guys stuck to handguns...

"Ow..." said Blue Impact, scowling at the shooters, and increasing speed.

"Ow," said Vic, pulling out her pair of tonfa and starting towards the shooters on her left.

"Ow." Gadgetive pulled out a net launcher, heading right.

"Wimps," said Energia, loudly from above and behind them, smirking and posturing.

The bad guys were already having morale problems. Then the lightning started.

Energia held out her hands away from her sides, as she flew with her body vertical, well above the concrete. Thin, snapping bolts of electricity shot down from her fingers, forking and sweeping rapidly around to leave a wide swath of smoking tracks on the pavement. Vic absently noted - as she veered to attack the aft group of defenders - that the sound of Energia's lightning changed depending on whether it hit concrete, metal or wood. Since that electrical display was behind the other three as they advanced, it helped distract the defenders from the charge of the ground-based attackers. It also gave the impression that the supers weren't going to let anyone escape.

In less than a minute, all the gunmen who hadn't already been physically subdued were frantically surrendering. From remarks they were making - mostly in Spanish but with smatterings of other languages - Blue Impact had the impression that the four supers were, indeed, definitely not who they were expecting. In fact, the gunmen expressed surprise and even outrage at super involvement in what they expressly said - once the city police and port security moved in and took over - was a "business" problem.

The quartet secured the gunmen with zip-ties and Energia guarded them from the air while the other three did a quick inspection of the ship. They confirmed that it was, indeed, the Storm Defiant, and that it was being prepared for full demolition, but discovered little else.

"Nobody home," said Vic, puzzled, as they emerged back onto the deck. "Not even anything in the hold."

"Likely, if anybody was still inside when we started our approach, they left by another route while we were busy," said Gadgetive, with a shrug. She smirked at her teammate. "Energia, I love ya', but your powers do sometimes get noisy."

"We should have had someone watching all the exits," said Vic, sourly, "instead of just hoping our raid would catch all of them before they could get away. Ah, well; locking the barn after the horse is gone."

"I think our priority was to seize the ship and its contents," said Energia. "The cops should have been the ones interested in making arrests."

"Yeah, but technically 'the cops' includes me!" said Vic, wincing. "I really need to learn to think like someone in law enforcement, rather than a costumed crime fighter. Brade has criticized me about this before."

"Well, our assigned role was to make it safe for law enforcement to enter; not to arrest anyone," said Blue Impact. "Technically, we didn't have to even capture these guys. We're not supposed to actually search the ship, either, but leave that for the port security folks. So, now that we know it's clear we wait for them to officially search the ship."

"Right, teach," said Gadgetive. She looked around. "Shouldn't they already be here, though?"

The quartet spent several increasingly impatient minutes guarding the prisoners before they saw the mixed force of city police and port security personnel finally approaching.

"What kept you?" said Vic, mildly.

"A bunch of heavily armed men," said the senior port security person present. "The mostly had clubs, knives and chains, though I wouldn't doubt some had firearms concealed. They actually outnumbered us. Took us a while to convince them that we were here for the folks working on the ship and that they needed to leave. Finally had to make a show of calling backup. We waited for our help to get there, then told them to guard the approaches to the dry dock while we moved in."

"That's probably a good idea," said Vic. She gave a tired sigh. "The folks here also had guns and clubs and knives. They obviously were expecting the trouble you chased off. The reinforcements you called can check for people trying to get in or out."

Fortunately, the city cops and port security had, indeed, thought ahead of the assault to place people around the dock to catch anyone trying to leave. Vic relaxed a bit. After a quick check of the situation, the head of the port security contingent approached Blue Impact.

"Damn. It looks like we almost walked right into the middle of a war between union and non-union workers. Would have if not for you."

"Things seem to be peaceful, for now," said Blue Impact, looking around. "Take these guys officially into custody, and then give the ship a thorough search. We need to report whether the Moldaria treasure is aboard or on the dock as soon as possible."

* * *

"A dead end," said the sergeant from the city police, sourly, hours later.

The delay was understandable; they had to make certain the cargo container with the valuables hadn't just been moved elsewhere on the ship, or onto the dock or into one of the surrounding buildings. It hadn't. The ship had actually been emptied well before the raid. Not just of things like the cargo, forgotten personal items, bedding, remaining food stores and the like. Rooms had been stripped bare, and even many partitions removed. There was barely enough infrastructure left for a skeleton crew to take it overseas for final scrapping. There was only one functional toilet left. In fact, from what the LEO and supers were seeing, it was almost ready to leave. Their raid had been just in time, from that respect. They still wished they had been here earlier.

There were no records of what had been removed. When asked what they had done with the missing items the captured workers were very vague. When pressured, they claimed that when they were brought in to work on the ship there was no cargo in the hold.

"Makes sense," said the head of the port security team. "Get those who know the ship and cargo are stolen goods out of here as soon as it docks, and then have a separate group come in to remove the cargo; then bring in the team to strip out everything else. To minimize who knows what at each stage. You don't even let the separate teams meet. I just wish we had learned it was here sooner."

"I'm sure the city's forensic team will find some clues," said Blue Impact, confidently. "If the people behind this theft weren't worried about it havingclues, why would they go to the trouble of cleaning it out this thoroughly? Whoever is behind this just didn't count on it being found so quickly."

"I hope you're right."

"Of course," said Vic, once the four supers were alone, walking on their way back to Tricorne's travel pod, "if the thieves really were worried about clues on that ship, they'd have just sunk it somewhere."

Gadgetive and Blue Impact could actually summon the flyer to their location with a remote command, but rarely used that function. Not only was the pod's autonavigation still a bit uncertain, Blue Impact didn't want to advertise that capability needlessly. For the same reason, Gadgetive rarely ran the pod by remote control from her pad... Though she often remotely accessed its sensors. So, this time - like most times - they went to the pod instead of calling it to them.

"If they weren't greedy, they wouldn't be stealing," said Blue Impact. "I suspect that the people behind the hijacking of the ship were hired by those actually after the treasure. The cargo could even have been taken off while it was still at sea, with another crew put on board who were told to scuttle it out past the continental shelf. They brought it here, instead, to recover money from the scrapping, beyond what they were already paid."

She sighed, and rubbed her head through her wig.

"That's just one possible scenario, of course. We may never know the details. Even if we find the treasure."

* * *

"I'm trying to figure out whether this is actually a mastermind plan," said Vic, later, not long after they arrived back at Blue Impact's bakery lair. "Sometimes it seems like it, sometimes it doesn't. It doesn't have the odd little touches, the flair..."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Blue Impact, nodding. "I suspect the actual hijacking is the work of a non-super criminal gang. A very competent, careful criminal gang. That doesn't mean there's no mastermind behind it all, though. Someone could be working through intermediaries to reduce the chance of the crime being tracked back to them. With Constantine involved, that's a reasonable precaution."

"There's just too much we don't know about this case," said Energia, scowling.

"That's why we are being so diligent about sharing info with other teams," said Blue Impact.

In fact, that sharing was the reason they were all gathered in the den of Blue Impact's lair just now, after a quick, late lunch. Another large video conference call was scheduled for that afternoon, US East Coast Time. Again, Constantine would participate. Which worried some of the others involved.

Still, the conference call went well. Tricorne - and Vic - were praised for finding the ship and encouraged to keep looking for the treasure. Meanwhile, the other teams were motivated by this success to increase their own efforts. Unfortunately, there were few new leads from anyone.

As the session neared its end, Constantine directed his gaze to those in Blue Impact's lair.

"I want to extend my personal thanks to you four. You found the ship. That brings us one step closer to ending this matter."

He signed off with no further comment. Some of the others participating in the conference video were obviously irritated by this, though others were just as obviously relieved.

* * *

After the conference call there wasn't much for those at the lair to do for the rest of the evening. Off-duty heroes were often left with nothing to do but the routine of patrol, wait, eat, train, socialize with each other and look for clues. Just now, it was too late for most of those. Given the activities of The FX, the quartet didn't really even need to patrol. The four supers in the old bakery were left with socializing. They wound out their day watching TV in the lounge area. However, as Gadgetive went through the listing of upcoming program contents she found something super connected.

"Ooh, here's a segment coming up about that new no-fly law," said Gadgetive. "Heh. Guy's name is Adam Koren, which keeps getting Autocorrected to Korean. They even have a note about that in the listing."

"I thought most people were just ignoring it," said Energia, puzzled. "The new law, I mean. Including the police and courts, since it's being challenged on constitutional grounds."

"Shhh!" said Gadgetive, changing channels with the remote and leaning forward.

The interview wasn't on, yet. They had to sit through commercials and a couple of unrelated segments, first. Then the studio announcer introduced the interview, which had been recorded earlier that afternoon. The scene cut to a nice-looking living room. The man being interviewed was middle-aged and looked fit, except that he sat in an obviously expensive chair - which Gadgetive later told them was a commercial model designed for orthopedic support - and moved very carefully.

"Look, I have a spine injury which makes walking and even standing painful," said Adam. "I can fly, though, which is great. However, because of problems with the law they passed last Summer nobody is supposed to fly until they figure out how to tell who is doing it legally. I risk breaking the law every time I go outside. I'm being punished because those idiots in the state legislature passed a stupid law and won't admit it, and now can't figure out how to enforce it!"

The interview was short and to the point. The recording closed with the interviewer back in the TV studio, live with her co-host.

"There you have it," said the interviewer. "Putting a human face on what most would consider an abstract point of law. Tom?"

"We do have a response from the sponsor of the bill," said the other program host. "It doesn't really answer any of the objections to the new law raised by Mr. Koren, or even address any of the problems it is causing, however."

The feed switched to a prerecorded video made at the state capital's foyer.

"All these people are whining about how it inconveniences them. This isn't about them! It's about public safety! For the good of the community, this guy needs to just suck it up and quit flying! Think of the children!"

The feed switched back to the studio. The two hosts were professionally straightfaced.

"We will have that interview in full at ten tonight."

Part Seven

"Oh, dandy," said Blue Impact, the next morning, loudly, from her private corner.

"What?" said Vic, a bit alarmed by the emotion from the older super. She was just leaving the kitchen with a sizable mid-morning snack. The sort of thing which Blue Impact jokingly referred to as "second breakfast."

"Someone found security video of the raid on the dry dock," said Blue Impact, sourly. "I mean, they got video of us sneaking up to the dock; there's not anything showing the dock itself. They've released a heavily edited version of it, claiming it shows 'costumed criminals' committing a robbery, and the local police and Port Authority security agents arriving a few minutes later to arrest us for attacking the crew working on the ship. Of course, the video doesn't show the actual arrests, since that would reveal that we weren't the ones being arrested."

"Say what?!" said Vic, around a mouthful of sandwich. She swallowed. "Wait; could whoever is behind the theft have done this to try and interfere with our search?"

"It's possible. In fact, that's likely what happened. Well, I need to contact MyVid... No, I'll call the Port Authority and the local police. Let them tell the company that they're hosting a libelous video and description. Maybe the company will tell them who posted it."

* * *

The holidays rolled inevitably closer, with a solution to the case still evading those who sought one. Since the season was otherwise quiet - not just in Tricorne's city but all over most of the US - they still couldn't even distract themselves with other hero operations.

"So much of crime fighting depends on plain old luck," said Blue Impact, with a sigh, later, as the bored heroes sat around the lair's entertainment area. "Luck and patience."

"Hey, you found the ship through a combination of perseverance in checking your sources," said Vic, her tone reassuring, "and connecting the dots. We'll get there, if we keep plugging."

"Yes, but it was luck that I was able to find Mano Dura when I did, and luck that he had heard something useful," said Blue Impact, her mood not at all lifted. "Anyway, I'm going to go train some. Call me if there's any news."

* * *

"There's news!" Energia cried, happily, intercepting Blue Impact as she left the exercise room. "The crew of hijacked ship was found alive and in good shape on a beach in Norway. Seems they were given a drug to impair memory transfer from short term to long term and remember very little about the events after the ship left the dock. However! They're all alive and healthy!"

"Well, that is news, and it is good news," said Blue Impact. She was in exercise tights and mask and towel, all very damp, on her way to the elevator. Energia noted, not for the first time, that when she wasn't in costume, her teacher preferred to be barefoot. Considering how tough her skin was, that made perfect sense. "Especially the bit about them not remembering. That means those behind this have things they don't want those people to relate. If we can find what that is... Is there anything about that - the crew being found - on the news right now?"

"Nope. Well, the talking heads are babbling about how they don't know any more about the situation than they've already told people six times."

"Okay. Hmph. It's also bad news, though, in that it means the crew is now unlikely to have any useful information. Anyway, I'm going to grab a quick shower and get into my regular costume. I'll be back down in ten."

"So, why do you say that's bad news?" said Energia, twelve minutes later, when their team leader returned to the ground floor.

"Well, whoever is behind this was smart enough not to kill the crew," said Blue Impact. "That is very good, especially for the crew and their families. However, if they were still missing many different law enforcement agencies would have kept this at a higher priority. Now, instead of a possible mass murder, we have grand theft and kidnapping, with the missing people subsequently released unharmed. That bit with the memory drug was also a typical mastermind touch, so now I'm thinking that at least one of the planners is a super. Either way, them being this smart makes it harder for us."

"Is the difference really that great?" said Gadgetive. "What I mean is, between whether they're known to be alive and fine and not just missing, condition unknown."

"Yes, in the short term especially," said Blue Impact, nodding. "Since there are now no lives at stake, the various government agencies will feel less pressure to prioritize the case. Given that there are current cases where lives are at stake, that makes sense. Priority will now be placed on those cases. Which may be why those behind the theft released the crew. The hijackers are still guilty of some serious crimes, but now have more time to hide their trail because the authorities are focusing on cases where people are actually in current danger."

Vic noted that the older super seemed distracted, and was semi-repeating herself. She figured that was a sign of how seriously Blue Impact was thinking about this new development.

"I wonder if we should do the same," said Energia, thoughtfully. "Focus on emergencies where lives are at stake, I mean."

"Generally, if we're involved in cases where lives are at stake, the danger is very immediate," said Blue Impact. "We're currently free to act on any such situations in our area where the authorities call on us, either specifically or in a general request for help. Otherwise, we need to remember the things we've taught The FX and stay out of the way of the professionals. There are a lot of situations where supers can be a big help, but more where we'd be at best useless."

There was a moment of quiet, which was interrupted by the phone in Blue Impact's private corner. She hurried over and answered. After a few minutes she returned to the others, who were waiting expectantly.

"That was one of my contacts in the police department. The Port Authority security people found several witnesses to the activity around that dry dock, to go with the security camera videos. Oh, and they're still looking into that altered video, by the way. They - the city police - were able to patch together a pretty complete timeline of what happened from right after the ship docked to shortly before our raid.

"Apparently, right after the Storm Defiant entered the dock - even while the water was being pumped out - the industrial equipment and a standard shipping container were offloaded onto trucks. The trucks were then seen leaving the area through an isolated exit from the port."

"Yay!" said Energia, actually lifting into the air.

"They were able to track the loads to a nearby scrap yard. There the police found the construction equipment - and they have notified the local Moldarian embassy of this - and a container matching the description of the missing one. Unfortunately, it was loaded with junk."

"Oh..." said Energia, landing.

"I was also told that several federal agencies have moved in and 'taken charge' of the investigation, but right now they're mostly coordinating the efforts of the locals. Leaving the actual work to the Port Authority, the city police and the supers involved. So, the search continues."

* * *

"Hey," Gadgetive called, from the TV area, later that evening. "You folks remember that ski resort in the Rockies which opened a trail just for superhumans?"

"No," said Energia, startled.

"No," said Vic, curious.

"Oh, yes," said Blue Impact, with tight smile. "I've even thought about trying it. I love to ski and haven't been on a trail in years."

She headed for the TV viewing area, quickly followed by Vic and Energia.

"Well, some non-super idiot went on the trail, got hurt, and is suing the ski resort."

"For what?" said Vic, outraged. "It's somehow their fault that he's stupid?"

"Shush!" said Gadgetive, pointing to the TV.

"It's clearly marked!" said a man identified in an information bar at the bottom of the screen as the resort owner. "I don't understand why this idiot was even on that trail! Or how he got that far along it without realizing it was impossible to complete without powers! One branch is steeply uphill, and is intended for flyers, and that's how it's marked, in multiple places!

"He's not even that experienced a skier. He's gotten in trouble before using the advanced slopes."

"So he has a history of taking on more than he can handle?" said the interviewer.

"Oh, yeah..."

"Huh," said Blue Impact, as the show moved to a different segment.

That was about the most appropriate thing any of the four had to say in regard to that.

However, there was still some time before the lair shut down for the evening. Not long after the ski trail segment, Gadgetive thought of something. Something which even had a connection to a recent case the four of them had all been involved with.

"What's with all these... old ones surfacing now?"

"Bad way to phrase that," said Energia, smirking.

"What?"

"'Old ones' and 'surfacing'?" said Vic, also smirking.

"To answer your actual question," said Blue Impact, as Gadgetive floundered, though the most experienced super in the lair was also smiling, "a lot of the cause is the Shilmek War. It created a huge disturbance which roused the attentions of some things, and also removed several of the 'old ones' who might have been keeping the others bottled up. In some cases literally. Well, unless there's some other matter to address, I'm heading for bed. I'm getting up early tomorrow and I suggest you all do the same. I'm giving this case until Friday; then declaring a break until after the start of the new year."

"So, we'll probably be home for Christmas," said Energia, in a relieved tone.

"Hallelujah," said Vic, with feeling. She might have found Michelle's family coming up short with their efforts to entertain their guest, but she definitely wanted to be there for Christmas eve and day.

* * *

Just after Noon the next day, however, Blue Impact gathered the team together for an important announcement.

"I just got a tip," she said. "A source knows where a semi-trailer with a container fitting the description of the missing one is located. A semi-trailer which, for whatever reason, is being hidden."

"Just how trustworthy is this source?" said Vic.

"It's Artemis Franks," said Blue Impact, sourly. "So, take it with a very large grain of salt. She says one of her company's large, commercial cleaning robots was taken outside the area for which it was rented, so she checked its memory. Just to make sure it wasn't put to any illegal use, mind you. She found that it was used to prepare a small section of an empty warehouse, as well as cleaning the short path from there to the doors. The kicker is, they left the cleaning robot on after it finished and it recorded a loaded semi being brought into the area it had just cleaned. The visual she sent me - a copy of what the cleaning robot recorded - isn't all that clear, but the semi trailer is definitely carrying a shipping container of the right appearance."

"Why didn't she go to the police with this?!" said Energia, outraged.

"She says - and I believe her for this part - that she doesn't want her other customers learning that her rental robots can record what happens around them. So she asked us to keep quiet about her contribution. As to why she told us, well, I can guess. All this attention is bad for any sort of shady activity. She wants it over, in a way which hopefully won't point to her as helping find the guilty party."

"Remember," said Vic, also sourly, "she's smart evil."

"Yes," said Blue Impact. "I suspect she also doesn't want Constantine, himself, to get involved."

"Why would they go to the trouble of cleaning part of the place where it's left, though?" said Energia.

"Perhaps to reduce the chance of someone finding the container later and using trace analysis to track it back to where it was stored," said Gadgetive, frowning in thought.

"I have a sneaking suspicion," said Energia, slowly, "that Miss Franks might have been involved in some of the technical aspects of this crime, without knowing until later who was being ripped off."

"That's entirely possible," said Blue Impact, nodding. "Right now, though, I'm having some of my contacts check the documentation for that warehouse. We won't put an actual presence there, yet. I'll save that for us tomorrow, if the tip pans out."

"Not a lot more time to check on that container before the holidays," said Energia, sadly.

* * *

Yet again, a large contingent of the staff of the Pine Island Academy was gathered to discuss problems. However, the main topic this time had nothing to do with Constantine or Moldaria.

"We now think that Pine chose this location because he somehow learned about the mantle transition zone plume which caused the now dormant volcano Bermuda sits on," said Junker. "The plume is a lot cooler after thirty million years, but there's still plenty of molten material there, not far down, geologically speaking. A small side plume of that rose beneath our location millions of years later, but never reached the surface. That's what made this artificial island and volcano possible. The high levels of trace elements - especially potassium - also made the soil he created from the cooled lava and ash very fertile. Unfortunately, either Pine didn't know about the long-term problems this operation would cause or - like most masterminds - dismissed them as something to solve later."

"I understand that the high proportion of water in this magma is what makes it and the resulting lava so fluid," said Template, trying to sound informed on the matter.

"Yes. That same factor also being why the geological changes are proceeding so quickly, relatively."

"None of this should be a problem for the school, though," said Eve, getting to what was pertinent for their enterprise.

"Not now," said Junker. "Probably not ever. We still need to keep a close watch on the geology of this area, though."

* * *

"Finally found some hard information on the warehouse Artemis Franks told me about," said Blue Impact, formally addressing her teammates in the entertainment area of the lounge the next morning. "That took so long because there were multiple shell companies involved. Turns out the facility is owned by the same people who own the dry dock."

"So, we're going to check it out," said Vic, nodding.

"Where is that warehouse, anyway?" said Energia.

Blue Impact brought up a map on the big TV screen, and used a pointer to show them.

"Wait... that's right back at the same part of the dockyard where we found the ship!" said Gadgetive, outraged. "Just... a couple of buildings past the perimeter the cops searched inside!"

"Yeah," said Blue Impact, nodding. "Which was likely deliberate. I believe those responsible for the theft of the treasures used the damage remaining from the Tritonicus clone's attack to covertly buy the property, and the work to repair the damage as cover to switch the legitimate trailer for an identical one filled with junk. Probably on the fly."

"Then they just rolled up with the fake trailer and loaded it onto the ship," said Vic, nodding slowly. "The ship's crew was honest and no-one was supposed to know what was in the trailer, except that someone in the government leaked it. Since what the crew thought was the right trailer arrived at the right time, they just loaded it and left. Only to have the ship hijacked to extend the time the thieves had to hide the real trailer... or whatever idea the mastermind planning all this intended."

"Why didn't the Moldarians have a tracker inside the real trailer?" said Energia, throwing her arms wide.

"Everything was supposed to be low-key," said Blue Impact. "Though, yeah, there are plenty of GPS trackers used for ordinary cargoes. Maybe there was one in the cargo and it was switched with the trailer. We can work out the details later."

"Remember," said Vic, seriously. "That warehouse is still private property. Since all we currently have is suspicions about what's in there, we have to see a crime in progress before we can enter the property."

"Fortunately, the standard of suspicious activity is pretty low in this case," said Blue Impact, nodding. "According to my contacts, the manager of that set of properties says the warehouse is currently empty, and they're trying to rent it. So any activity is arguably illegal use of the property."

"That's a bit... thin," said Vic, frowning.

"It's still valid. We observe from a public area, in as many ways as we can. If we see something suspicious, we go onto the property - stealthily, most likely - for a better look."

"We're not going to work with the police and dock security again?" said Gadgetive.

"No, for several reasons," said Blue Impact, ticking them off on her fingers. "First, we don't need them. This isn't a ship in a dry dock with dozens of laborers around. It's a shipping container on a trailer, left alone in an isolated warehouse, most likely to avoid attracting suspicion until things cool down. We observe from a distance, like I said. If we see a good reason for closer investigation - as vetted by Vic - then we go in. Though we may wait until we're sure there's no-one around, first. There's a good chance we can get in, check it out and leave without anyone noticing.

"Second, we're running out of time. We four can check this out and verify whether it is the target in, hopefully, just a few hours. Without the complication of involving local law enforcement or, worse, any federal agents beyond Vic. Even if we have to stake it out for a while, we should still be able to decide one way or another before the end of the week.

"Third, I'm worried about leaks. I don't think anyone leaked our raid on the dry dock, but after that those responsible would be foolish not to have at least one way to monitor for similar activity. With the new personnel who have been added on to the case since we found the ship, that would be easy."

She looked at Vic expectantly. The federal agent sighed.

"You're putting me on the spot, here," she said. "Yeah, if it goes down the way you say, it would be legal. Just remember, we have to see something which provides reasonable cause for action before we can even send a drone onto private property."

"How high does a drone have to fly to be considered in legal air space?" said Gadgetive, frowning. "'Cause some of my drones can fly pretty high and aircraft aren't allowed over that area except for medevac and such."

"I'll look it up," said Blue Impact.

Part Eight

"Place is dead," said Gadgetive, frowning, later that day. "No power. No water. No active communication lines. It even looks abandoned. Windows are dirty, door tracks are rusty..."

"You just know someone is watching the place, though," said Energia. "Maybe constantly, but at least checking several times a day."

"Hmph," said Vic, irritated. "too bad about the lack of obvious activity, though. If there were any sign of something going on in a supposedly empty warehouse that might constitute probable cause."

She frowned.

"Though I'm surprised there aren't even any alarms set."

"That could actually attract attention, since the place is supposed to be empty," said Gadgetive, waving her hands. "You'd need some way to supply power, active alarms probably of several sorts, and some way to alert someone if one of them trips... et cetera."

"What is the legal status of that place?" said Energia, now also frowning.

"It's legally owned, all taxes paid, the facilities are in compliance with city and Port Authority regulations," said Blue Impact, sounding aggravated. "Nothing suspicious in the paperwork at all, except for the obfuscation involved in the ownership."

They were in the team's large flyer, hovering in stealth mode over the roof of a damaged warehouse not far from the object of their examination. The building under them had been severely impacted during the Tritonicus II attack - gutted by fire, in fact - and then sold for a dollar to the port by the previous owner. The plan was to demolish it to make room for something more modern. Just now, it stood empty and useless. While the four in the flyer were technically breaking the recently passed "no fly" law, since that was on hold until several court challenges were decided that was not a serious consideration.

"What I'm seeing," said Gadgetive, scowling at her console displays, "is what my grandma would call 'a whole lotta nuthin'.' Can't even see well enough through those sturdy walls to tell whether or not there's anything in there but dust."

"Great..." said Energia.

"We might just have to wait for someone to make a mistake," said Blue Impact. She gave a humorless laugh. "I just hope it isn't us."

"What about provocation?" said Energia. "I could fly past - staying off the private property - and see if they react."

"If all you do is fly past, maybe looking around, that would be legal," said Vic, as Blue Impact nodded. "That lane is a city street. We'd have to count on them being on edge and responding to that, though. Responding inappropriately, I mean."

"Hang on," said Gadgetive, coming alert. "There's a car heading for one of the side gates. An unmarked car."

"Swing us around there," said Energia, to Blue Impact.

"No, wait," said Vic, unfastening her harness. "Go down to ground level and let me out first."

Blue Impact moved the flyer over an alley beside the burned-out building and descended to land. Vic jumped out the back even before the flyer touched down. The martial artist headed at a quick walk for the side gate in the fence around the building where the car had stopped. She came into view of the person in the unmarked car just as he was swinging the gate open. He was using a set of keys which were obviously separate from his car keys, since the engine was still running. The man looked up as he noticed Vic's approach and froze. He then jumped back in his car and reversed frantically away from the gate. Only, instead of turning so he could drive forward out of there, he continued backwards at high speed, aiming directly at Vic.

The driver accelerated hard. Vic watched calmly, and at the last moment simply jumped straight up, armor and all, tucking her legs to clear the roof. The driver turned and stared out the windshield as she landed, untouched... and backed at high speed into the side of the burned out building the team had been hovering above. Thanks to the fire damage to that structure, the rear of the car actually went partly through the wall. Vic stared for a moment in disbelief, then ran over to check on the man.

"Well, we got lucky," said Energia, as she flew down to join the martial artist. "Of course, that was only because he got really stupid."

"I think he's just stunned," said Vic, after opening the door and leaning inside to check on the guy. "He didn't have time to fasten his seat belt, but the impact just shoved him back into his seat. I'll call 911. You and the others need to grab those keys he left in the gate and check inside. I'll join you when I can."

"This is a valid reason?"

"Yeah. His actions are very suspicious, to say nothing of counting as assault on a federal officer. I'd say they're a pretty good indication that he was trying to cover some sort of illegal activity."

As Energia flew to the gate, Blue Impact headed in the same direction on her motorcycle, Gadgetive riding double with her. Energia swooped down and grabbed the dropped gate keys on the fly, then went to the human-sized door in the wall beside the enormous, double doors on that side of the building.

"Wait for us!" Blue Impact called out.

Energia ignored her, but did leave the small door fully open as she went in. Blue Impact simply drove inside.

"Whoah..." said Energia, pulling up high inside the huge, mostly empty space. She hovered, looking at the container, trailer and truck from above.

The vehicle and its cargo sat in a cleared area which extended to the large double doors next to the small door they had entered through. It had apparently been backed in, since it was facing the big doors but the cleared area was not large enough for it to turn around in and there were no tracks in the uncleared section of floor.

"Somebody made sure this was ready to leave in a hurry," said Energia, while Blue Impact parked her bike and Gadgetive jumped off.

"It's been crudely spray painted," said Blue Impact, as those on the ground slowly walked around the truck and semi-trailer. "Probably before being moved in here. Otherwise it looks exactly like the one that's missing."

"How do we tell for sure?" said Energia, still flying well above the others.

"Whatever you need to do, do it quick!" yelled Vic, as she yanked the keys from the door, pulled it closed, and locked it from inside. "There's about fifty guys with guns, clubs, knives and - get this - at least two neutralizers heading this way at a run. They've already cut us off from the flyer."

They each quickly checked to make sure their neutralizer counters were on. Then, while Vic - still with her cell phone out - frantically updated the 911 operator the members of Tricorne gave the container a quick examination.

"Okay, here's one of the things Constantine told us to look for," said Gadgetive, from the rear. "The Moldarian seal on the doors! Still intact!"

Gadgetive was shining a light on the object to make it more visible. A braided strand of plastic optical fibers had been wrapped around the handles on the rear doors. This had then been crossed over, and the crossing heated and squeezed with some sort of tool to fuse it closed in a loop, at the same time printing the Moldarian national symbol on the softened plastic. The actual seal was small, and very distinctive. The thing was inconspicuous, yet difficult to fake.

"That's it," said Vic, nodding and putting away her cell phone as she examined the seal. "This is the missing container."

"Or a fake someone left as a red herring," said Energia.

There was a huge thump on the door they had entered through. Dust loosened by the impact sifted down from overhead.

"Okay, we need confirmation," said Blue Impact. "Both that this is the real thing and that it hasn't been opened, even by someone cutting through the side. Vic, did the operator say when they'd have someone here?"

"I got cut off when I moved away from the front of the building," the martial artist said, with a grimmace. "I told them where the accident is, and that there was a mob chasing me, but don't know if they heard about the container."

There was a harder thump from the door. More dust sifted down, now accompanied by larger particles. Blue Impact thought quickly.

"Okay, change of plans; we'll confirm later. Gadgetive, send a general call for super help. Energia, you help me barricade the doors. Vic, get the truck started. We may have to make a run for it and we're not leaving that behind."

So far, those trying to break in were only applying their attentions to that one, human-sized door, since that was where they saw the costumed figures enter. Energia quickly spot welded the steel-clad security door to the steel frame at several points. However, there were at least four other human-sized doors to the outside and one other set of large, vehicle doors. She got busy.

Vic reached up to yank the driver's side door open and climbed into the cab. She got into the seat, then stared at the controls with the rapidly dawning realization that this vehicle was far more sophisticated than she had imagined. The only bit of good luck that she could see was that the keys were in the ignition switch.

"The Assembly says they have some people in the area!" Gadgetive yelled, from where she stood on the concrete floor of the warehouse, beside the passenger door of the truck's cab. "They'll be a while getting here, though. Still trying for The FX, but I think they're busy with a fire!"

"Hurry and get that thing moving before their reinforcements arrive!" said Blue Impact, who was busy piling some of the small amount of debris present in the huge warehouse against the door they had entered through. "Get it started!"

"I can't drive this thing!" said Vic, alarmed, as Gadgetive climbed in the other side of the cab, still talking to someone over her com. "Somebody else get up here!"

"I ride a motorcycle," said Blue Impact. "I've barely ever driven a car, and those were all automatics. You're the one with the manual transmission car!"

"This thing is about as close to Monstro as your flying pod is!"

"Manual transmissions are a bane on the driver's existence," said Gadgetive, firmly, when Vic glanced towards her, where she was sitting smugly in the passenger seat. "They take attention away from..."

"You don't have a license, anyway," said Blue Impact, cutting her off before Vic could even begin her impassioned defense of manual transmissions.

They looked at Energia.

"I can fly. I've never bothered learning to drive."

"So it's me," said Vic, mournfully.

"Hurry!" shouted Blue Impact. "I hear something with a motor coming!"

Something again hit that first, small door. Hard.

"Shit," said Vic, reflexively looking at that door. "No time. I'll have to learn as I go."

Fortunately, starting a modern large diesel truck was relatively easy, if not quick. Unfortunately, starting the engine turned out to be the only easy part of driving the vehicle, and it took a nerve-stretching amount of time.

As soon as she turned the ignition on, a display announced "WAIT TO START." Vic remembered that diesel engines on highway vehicles needed to heat a glow plug.

Something hit the wall of the building at the small door. Hard enough to push a dent through the wall on either side of that entrance.

The WAIT message disappeared after a few seconds, and Vic hesitantly turned the key further. The engine cranked vigorously for several turns, then caught. Vic immediately released the key; the engine kept running. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks and pushed the clutch pedal in, though with effort. Vic felt very grateful that the trailer was already attached. Just unlocking the brakes took precious seconds, and was only that quick because the air tanks were still nearly full.

Whatever motorized device or gadget or vehicle those outside had brought up to force an entry struck again. This time apparently at an angle, since there was only one new dent and it was in the middle of the door. Fortunately, the lock - and Energia's welds - held.

Even paying attention to the shift pattern on the dash, Vic still nearly stalled the engine on her first attempt getting the thing moving. However, on the second the rig started rolling. Backwards. Vic frantically hit the clutch and brake pedals. She discovered that the seat was too far back for her and she almost didn't stop the rig before it backed into the far wall.

"Gotta adjust the seat!" she yelled at the others. "Hold the door just a few more seconds!"

While Blue Impact and Energia - each in her own way - did what they could to keep those doors closed, Vic frantically slid the seat forward and down. She had to compromise with the seat a bit high for the pedals in order to see over the dash, but there was no time for fine tuning. She picked what she thought was the right gear, revved the diesel and eased the clutch out. The rig started forward, chugging and shuddering as the engine logged down, then recovered. Vic quickly hit the rev limiter and (with a bit of clashing) shifted into what she hoped was the next gear. The rig accelerated sluggishly, but she immediately had to shift up again. Vic looked up from the arcane shift pattern on the dash and realized she was getting close to the doors... and her companions! She hit the horn, and shifted up again.

Blue Impact and Energia quickly moved out of the way. The rig hit the doors squarely at the seam, shoving the bottoms outwards and pushing the right one completely off its tracks. It fell to the pavement beyond. The people outside - one of whom turned out to be driving a forklift towards the large pair of doors - weren't so prompt. They all got out of the way, but some only with the help of the doors impacting them. The heavy forklift was fortunately hit off-center as the driver frantically tried to turn away from the doors and charging truck. It got shoved to one side of the still slow-moving rig. The forklift scraped down the side of the trailer with a horrible noise, jerking and occasionally throwing sparks from the friction as Vic drove by. The driver looked terrified, but there wasn't much Vic could do about that.

By now the turbocharger was roaring. Vic shifted up, floored the pedal, and looked over at Gadgetive. Who appeared completely calm and unflustered.

"Welcome aboard the Moldaria express!" Vic yelled, giving her a quick grin, then shifting up.

"You'll need to get into the next gear range, soon," said the gadgeteer, mildly.

"The which?!"

"Steer left!"

Gritting her teeth, Vic heaved the rig around to the left in order to pass through the open gate. Then she immediately had to crank the wheel to the right to get into the lane between buildings. There was a great deal of tire whining, though no real skidding. Energia flew past on the right and Blue Impact passed on the left, riding her motorcycle.

Those of the attackers who were still capable of it chased after them. The closest ones tried to catch up on foot, while those further back realized the rig was pulling away from the runners and headed for vehicles. Vic leaned on the horn as she turned - barely - onto the bigger lane past the end of the warehouse they had just left. Other trucks and pedestrians in the area got out of the way of the rig as best they could, some just barely. Then they had to dodge the vehicles of the pursuers. The big truck was now heading directly towards the main highway entrance for the port. At least Vic managed to get into the next gear range, eventually, and there was fortunately no crossing traffic to swerve around. By now they were moving at almost half the speed limit. Vic just hoped there was someone nearby who could come to the aid of the four supers. There were still a lot of people after them. Fortunately the pursuers seemed to have left the heavy, older style neutralizers behind at the warehouse.

"Truck coming in on the right!" Energia yelled, swooping that way.

Blue Impact performed the impressive feat of cutting towards the semi, dumping her bike and sliding under the trailer, then popping back up on the other side and hitting the throttle. On seeing the pair of colorfully costumed supers heading for them the driver of the truck swerved into a tight U-turn - almost losing two of those riding in the back - and headed down a lane between warehouses, to a cacophony of sound and sparks as he didn't quite make the turn.

Vic kept frantically shifting up, and thought she was actually in just about the right gear for the speed limit and level road as they approached the main entrance to the port. The security guard stepped out when he heard the noise, looked at the oncoming rig, the accompanying supers and the handful of vehicles still chasing it for a short, frozen moment, then dove back into his booth. Vic felt proud that she got through the comparatively small opening without hitting anything.

As they passed through the dockyard entrance, two members of the Assembly stepped into the road ahead of them. Vic gave them three quick toots on the horn, and waved briefly through the windshield before having to shift again. Blue Impact - her motorcycle now back on Vic's left and just behind the trailer - whistled in joyous greeting. Gadgetive leaned out the passenger window of the tractor and shouted gleeful greetings to the duo. Maciste, who had been standing in the middle of the road - with Champion on the right shoulder - waved, and quickly stepped out of the way, then just as quickly stepped back into the road once the liberated big rig was past.

The remaining pursuers saw what was waiting for them, hit the brakes on their various work trucks, and rapidly began backing away. Unfortunately for them, Thunderer and Sharma had already cut off their escape. Though they were the least physically potent members of the Assembly's field team, they were far from useless in a fight, and had other strengths besides the physical. Including simply looking imposing. Those attackers who could not flee promptly surrendered.

Meanwhile, the quartet of supers who had recovered the cargo container were slowing. While Vic began wrestling the truck to a stop, Blue Impact pulled alongside and waved her on.

"First priority is getting the container to the Moldarian embassy!"

"Uhm," said Vic, glancing at Blue Impact as she continued to slow the rig. "Procedure requires the impoundment of the evidence, but given the international complications, uh..."

Champion - tall and unhurried - came up beside Tricorne's now stationary leader, nodding but so far saying nothing.

"We need to get this to the embassy now!" said Blue Impact, emphatically. "Vic, you can call this in to the feds, but I think that in this case we need to be proactive and not wait for the bureaucracy. Let it play catchup."

"Right," said Champion. She turned to her team. "Everyone with cameras take photos and videos of the truck quickly. As soon as we finish documenting the rig, Vic can drive it away. We'll get the rest after you four leave."

"Be careful," said Energia, lowering towards the pair talking to Vic to speak with them quietly. "They had neutralizers, and I think those are still back there, at the warehouse."

"Well, Sharma and I are both supernaturals," said Champion, unconcerned. "We can go back and guard the warehouse while Maciste and Thunderer guard these prisoners until port security arrive. She and I should be able to secure the area and take care of any neutralizers before any other supers get there."

"All settled, then," said Blue Impact, as she and a few others quickly took photos of the liberated big rig and its cargo. "Okay, Vic, let's go. I'll lead the way."

"Can't someone else drive this thing?" said Vic, almost whining. "I barely got it this far."

Unfortunately, none of the costumed heroes present had any more experience driving tractor-trailer rigs than what Vic had already gained. Fortunately, without the urgency of their escape, that very limited experience was enough for Vic to smoothly get the load moving again. Energia and Blue Impact led the way. The latter used the navigator on her motorcycle to find the best route, while the former flew high cover.

The biggest problem now was getting through traffic. Fortunately, while the embassy was on the other side of the city - nearer the airport than the ocean port - there were few turns and no narrow streets on the most direct path. Vic called her boss, Brade, during stops and updated her on the situation. The martial artist decided that it was far better for the Director of the Bureau of Super Resources to handle the tangle of red tape Vic and Tricorne were creating, and so kicked that part of the recovery upstairs.

Exactly what the bystanders along their route thought as they watched the truck moving along city streets, with two costumed heroes leading it (One of them flying!) and one person in armor driving and another riding shotgun, they kept to themselves.

Part Nine

Somebody must have called ahead, because the rear gates were open and embassy staff members were standing outside, ushering the rig in. Vic was very glad the service entrance was double wide. Blue Impact, Energia, Gadgetive and - of course - Vic were allowed onto embassy grounds. The gates were then shut solidly behind them.

"It's all yours," said Vic, gladly, after she had the vehicle safely stopped where directed. She left the engine running as she climbed down from the high vantage point. "Well, the cargo container is. I don't know who actually owns the truck and trailer."

"Thank you," said a very well dressed, grey-haired woman who seemed to be in charge. "We will make certain whoever those belong to get what is their due."

Okay, that sounded politely ominous.

Several men were already busy inspecting the container, and seemed positively joyous.

"It seems to be completely intact," said the woman, after receiving a report from that group's supervisor. "There are no holes cut in the sides or bottom which we can see. We'll know for certain once we get it open. Yes, we will be careful and do that out here, just in case."

"Need any help with that?" said Gadgetive, grinning as she produced a powered cutting tool which looked like it could peel a tank.

"Ah, no," said the woman, a bit alarmed. "Thank you. We'll handle the rest."

Muttering in irritation, Gadgetive put her toy away and moved to join the other three super heroes standing nearby.

"Looks like our part of the job is done," said Blue Impact. She was smiling in satisfaction. For a change, everyone in her group was everyone happy with the situation. Well, almost everyone.

"You all right?" Energia asked Vic, noting that her college buddy seemed a bit thoughtful about something.

"Yeah," said Vic, slowly and quietly. "I think so. At first I had no idea what I was doing. I haven't felt that inept since the first time I tried to put on a bra. As things proceeded, though, I had a lot less trouble with the driving than I expected."

She gave them a strange look.

"The... machinery told me what to do."

"Huh?" said Energia.

"Well, duh," said Gadgetive, with a smirk. "I'm glad someone around here finally admits it."

"Wait... What?!" said Blue Impact. She looked at Gadgetive. "You don't seriously... I thought you were joking when you talked about that before!"

"Joking?" said Gadgetive, blankly. "Why would I joke about something so universal? Just because the rest of you don't want to admit it..."

"Gadgetive," said Vic, seriously. "It's not universal. This is the first time it's happened to me, and it's probably connected to my sense of perception."

"Yes, it is! Universal, I mean. I don't know why you people won't just admit that devices tell you what they're doing! It's... Universal! You just have to pay attention!"

"It's probably like me listening to storms or aurorae," said Energia. "I didn't know I was the only one hearing that stuff until I got powers training."

"No, everyone has this!" snapped Gadgetive. "It has nothing to do with powers. I've heard lots of my teachers talk about how 'you need to listen to the machine'!"

"They mean hear and feel the vibrations," said Blue Impact. "Just pay attention to the cues devices are giving you."

"Exactly!"

"That's not the same thing as what you're talking about, though."

"Yes, it is!"

"Oh, hallelujah," said Energia, rolling her eyes. "Here comes Constantine!"

"He's here?!" said Vic, startled, as the other members of the group reflexively whipped around to look.

"Not officially," said the superhuman monarch, as he came down the steps beside the loading dock. He was wearing an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit, and a slight smile. "Though legally, since we are on Moldarian soil."

Vic decided not to ask how he was traveling across US territory legally without government permission. Which no US administration had done in decades, despite multiple measures being taken recently towards that end.

"There's still a lot of wrap-up," said Blue Impact. "The Assembly grabbed the people who were watching the warehouse, but we still don't even know who was behind this."

"When you find the perpetrators you can have them," said Constantine, graciously. "They were smart enough not to harm any of my people. I have my country's treasures, and this time I will ensure that they arrive safely."

"Thank you," said Blue Impact, relieved.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, we need to do a full inventory."

He had just started to turn away when someone piped up.

"Wait," said Gadgetive, obviously irritated. "We found this and brought it here, and you're saying we can't see what we rescued?"

"Not just now," said Constantine, seeming to be amused by the gadgeteer. Like most masterminds, he also had a bit of the gadgeteering bug, and may have empathized. "Each item is in a separate, custom shipping container, inside that larger container. With multiple layers of padding. We'll need several days to unpack the things, do a full inventory and examine them for damage. However, I will make certain you all receive invitations to the grand unveiling once they are ready for display."

* * *

At least the embassy staff gave them a ride back to where the team had liberated the semi. The limo was quite comfortable, and had classic amenities with the minimum of modern conveniences intruding. It was a very substantial vehicle, as well; there was even room in the trunk for Blue Impact's motorcycle, laid out carefully on a tarp. She was actually reluctant to get out.

Once they were at the scene of the crime, Blue Impact noted that besides people from the Assembly, there were also costumed members of two other nearby super teams present, as well as a generous handful of Port Authority security personnel. The head of the port security people promised more of their group were on the way, as were city police. In fact, he seemed a bit irritated the latter weren't already there.

"We decided to call the Intrepids and The FX for help," said Champion, as she carefully lifted Blue Impact's motorcycle out of the limo's trunk. Once it was safely on the ground, she gestured at the additional costumed and uniformed people present. "This is going to be a headache for a lot of people at a lot of levels. There's international, national and local aspects to the crimes involved."

"Ah, let the lawyers sort it out," said Energia, grinning, very aware that Blue Impact was an attorney and taught law at the Pine Island Academy.

The security personnel were waiting for the city police before doing anything more than securing the area and supervising the costumed crime fighters. Among other tasks, they were making sure some helpful super didn't contaminate the evidence. Well, any more than it had already been compromised by the activities of Tricorne and Vic. They were also keeping the bystanders back; and there were a lot of bystanders.

The driver of the car who had tried to back into Vic was gone. Witnesses said he'd been taken away in an ambulance, only minutes after the semi left and before Sharma and Champion arrived. There was a flatbed vehicle recovery truck standing by to load the wrecked car. However, the truck driver couldn't touch it until the police arrived and worked with port security to do a preliminary examination. An older man, he waited with visible impatience for someone to do something about the situation.

Meanwhile, the side lane which the open warehouse gate opened onto had been blocked off at both ends with orange cones and yellow tape. Fortunately, it was not a major thoroughfare.

Seeing how many people were not yet there who needed to be, Energia checked her watch. She was astounded to note that only a little over an hour and a half had passed since her last check, which had been just before the car had approached the warehouse. Energia half-wondered if her watch were wrong. It wouldn't be the first time, though this watch was supposed to be very resistant to her powers.

"The Intrepids even stopped by our base and picked up Dr. Gorgeous and some of our security people on the way here," Champion continued. "They're all inside, inspecting where the truck was parked. Carefully, from a distance. We haven't heard yet from either the city or the Port Authority on the matter, but I figure someone will need to both guard this whole building - and wherever the people watching it were hiding - and go over it with a microscope. I have volunteered our people to help with that. On top of everything else, we need to figure out where they got those neutralizers. They're older, semi-portable models, but still effective."

"Well, we have at least some of those presumably immediately responsible, for both the ship's deconstruction and the container's improper storage," said Dr. Gorgeous. "However, we still don't know who was behind either of those efforts or the overall plan. Neither do we have the actual hijackers, nor whoever switched the containers."

"None of those you caught are talking?" said Blue Impact.

"Actually, when we explained to them just what they were guarding and from whom it had been stolen, they not only talked, they provided documentation," said the Black Mask, with a slight smile. "None of which led anywhere, unfortunately. They don't even know when whoever wanted the container was going to have it retrieved. They needed work and were paid - in cash - to watch from hiding. Part of their job was to call certain phone numbers if someone found the truck, then to delay whoever found it until help arrived. That's pretty much all they know.

"Oh, and they left the neutralizers behind when they chased after you because they thought the devices weren't working. They don't seem to have heard about countermeasure devices and none of us felt a need to enlighten them."

"It looks like active heroes may have to routinely use counters the way cops on the street wear ballistic vests," said Blue Impact, sourly. She sighed. "All that is beside the point, though. That point being that we still have a huge mess, here."

"So it looks like the cleanup is going to be a long, hard slog of investigative work," said Energia, nodding, as she looked around the scene again.

"There definitely seems to be a dearth of useful evidence," said the Black Mask, nodding.

"I can help some with that," said Blue Impact. "After a lot of paperwork, it turns out the owner of both the warehouse and the dry dock is one Barnekov Greene. Unfortunately, Mr. Greene seems to be completely fictional, a person who is almost certainly not real. A red herring set up to take the fall in this and several other shady and outright criminal deals. I have to wonder if Ar... one of my informants considers 'him' to be a rival, which would explain why she was so eager to share what she knew about this crime."

"We still have no idea whether whoever was behind this is a mundane but very clever criminal - or group of same - or a super of some sort," said Bowman, sounding tired. "Though I'm leaning towards the latter."

"I'm starting to believe this actually is the work of a mastermind," said Blue Impact, scowling. "If only because the plan turned out to be so needlessly complex. Well, some of the complexity was successful in creating diversion and delay, but some of the details of this plot served no purpose except to point out how clever the person behind this mess is."

She didn't notice - none of them did, actually - the driver of the vehicle recovery truck smiling just a bit at hearing this.

"That... fits with what little the Bureau is getting from the FBI," said Vic, carefully, as she put her phone away after making yet another update to her boss. "Officially. Unofficially, during one of my calls I also heard someone in the background mention a name I probably wasn't supposed to hear: John Gaughn."

To the surprise of several those standing outside the warehouse, the Black Mask reacted strongly to that name.

"Mr. Gone? Damn. He hasn't turned up in over eight years. I'd hoped he had finally died, or at least retired. Yes, if he's involved, there's definitely a mastermind at work."

The driver of the vehicle recovery truck decided that maybe he should wait in his vehicle.

"I hear sirens," said Blue Impact, looking around.

Several police cars arrived in short order, accompanied by a fire truck and an ambulance. The paramedics, it turned out, were there for the driver of the car. Who was long gone.

"There was already an ambulance here to get him," said Champion, startled. "At least, that's what several people told us."

"We - that's our unit and the fire truck, both - were sent to the wrong gate, which was closed and locked with nobody around," said the ambulance driver, as puzzled as Champion. "If this hadn't been called in as a low priority we'd have told dispatch to send another unit, while we tried to figure out how to get there. The police arrived while we were trying to force the gate, and told us to check our directions. We had to call in several times before someone figured out where we supposed to actually be, and how to get there from where we were. We had to go around a long way to get to the closest gate, then here. As far as I know, we're the only squad responding to this call."

"Damn," said the Black Mask. "I hope that wasn't a fake ambulance, here to rescue that driver."

With the arrival of the city police the investigation got well and truly under way. The quartet from the bakery lair found themselves making detailed statements, right then and there. That including showing the cops where the truck had been inside the warehouse, and walking and talking them through the escape. Besides all that, processing of the crime scene was now fully under way, and would be for a while. Meanwhile, other officers were interviewing the members of the Assembly and the Intrepids.

Blue Impact explained to Vic, Energia and Gadgetive that this attention to detail was due to the awareness by the city and the Port Authority that there would likely soon be federal agents involved beyond Vic. People who were specialists in maritime crimes. In fact, the investigation would almost certainly involve international maritime agencies.

Once the police were done interviewing the heroes the quartet was finally able to get back to their team vehicle. They flew the short distance to Blue Impact's lair. There a celebration commenced.

* * *

The post adventure wind-down included an evening at the old bakery for Tricorne and Vic. The four were all planning on getting up early the next day to resume their civilian pre-Christmas activities; once the short but intense celebration was over things were very relaxed.

"Hey, did you see this news item about the Canadian diamond mining company which found the second-largest rough diamond ever?" said Energia, checking headlines on their TV. "They named it the Template Diamond!"

"Wait..." said Gadgetive. "Is that the same company that Template saved from Timmy Thurlough's freeze ray?"

"Yep."

"Hah! Take that, Timmy! That'll teach you to mess with the laws of thermodynamics!"

"That's not the reason for..." Blue Impact began.

"Good luck getting her to understand the actual reason for Template to feel gratified," said Energia, rolling her eyes.

"Huh?" said Gadgetive.

"Anyway," said Blue Impact, firmly, "there has been another complication in the case."

"Great," said Gadgetive, rolling her eyes.

"The car which nearly backed over Vic is missing. The company the tow truck supposedly belonged to says they didn't get the call. No-one the cops have asked actually made a call for a tow truck. It apparently just appeared, waited for the city police to okay transport, then vanished with the car."

* * *

Between Christmas and the end of the year, the Moldarian embassy announced they were finished with the unpacking, inventory and cleaning. They also reported that all the items were present (according to both a very old paper inventory dating from early in the Twentieth Century and the memory of Constantine). The entire collection was put on private exhibit in the embassy's ballroom for a few days. Attendance was by invitation only. Tricorne and Vic were among those invited.

The quartet met at the old bakery just for their tour of the treasures, then proceeded to the embassy in Tricorne's large flyer. Blue Impact planned to park on the street outside, but as the travel pod settled onto its landing gear embassy personnel opened the main gate and motioned them inside. Blue Impact shrugged, and simply taxied to where they directed. They wound up parking in a spot reserved just for them. There was a sign and everything.

The quartet received a private tour of the exhibit. The display of artifacts turned out to be worth the wait. The ancient treasures of Moldaria were modest compared to those of, say, Great Britain, but they were historic and tasteful and for the most part exquisitely beautiful. As well as being both symbolic of a significant amount of history, and having even been involved in some of those events.

While much of the treasure was indeed gold and gems, more of it was things like books, scrolls, official registries, portraits and even some garments. An item which intrigued Vic in particular was the only known surviving example from the first printing of the Holy Bible in the native language of Moldaria.

"There were multiple attempts to return some or all of these items to Moldaria since they were put into the keeping of the United States during the Great War," said the woman giving them the tour. This was the same, white-haired woman who had dealt with the four supers when they brought the semi into the embassy compound. "For Constantine's coronation in 1951 we tried to have just the coronation regalia returned, but we had to make do with substitutes."

They were not allowed to touch anything. This was in part due to many of the items being fragile. However, this was also due to them having just been cleaned and restored, for the first time in over a century. Neither was there any mention of how the items were going to be transported back to their native land. Nor of how Constantine had arrived at or left from the embassy, that day he had met the heroes after their rescue of his nation's treasures. The quartet was told some things, though.

"The objects will be on display for another five days. Then they will be returned to Moldaria. The ancient vault in the palace has been upgraded just to make certain they remain secure."

* * *

As the solstice passed and Winter began to wane in the northern hemisphere, many were complaining that they'd never actually had any Winter. Even some who denied that the climate was warming. One consequence of the lack of a hard freeze was that ice in some areas of the arctic - much of Europe's northern glaciers - never really stopped breaking up and floating off into the sea. One iceberg in particular carried something long frozen. As icebergs do, it melted unevenly and became unstable. Inevitably, it rolled over. A dark mass was now exposed which had been below; the ice around this began melting faster than the rest, even in the weak Sun of that latitude. Well before the last of the clear ice covering it had fallen away, a part of the dark mass began metabolizing, though at a very low rate. Soon - on the time scale of glaciers and their iceberg calves - the figure in the ice began to stir.

* * *

The elderly mastermind took a quick look around. He'd already sent his most important items on ahead, along with his staff. Now it was just him and one suitcase to go. Things he didn't want even his highest aides to know about. Everything left behind here was expendable.

This debacle had cost him a great deal, in time, money and violated agreements. He'd even had to take care of some of the evidence himself. Though that had provided the unexpected bonus of standing right there while those costumed buffoons were oblivious to his presence. He hadn't even been particularly well disguised.

It's all in the presentation, he thought, smugly.

As he exited the penthouse apartment he almost left the door propped open, as an act of defiance. However, closing and locking it might buy him a few seconds. He did that. As he turned, he almost collided with a unfamiliar man.

"John Gaughn?"

"Who wants to know?" said the old man. He was in too much of a hurry to deal with this...

There was a blast, and all of his thoughts ended, forever.

"You're arrested."

This goes between the last chapter segments about the thing in the ice and the shooting of Mr. Gone.

Finally back in the small Detroit apartment she shared with Michelle, Vic acted strangely the first day. However, the next day was the last one before classes restarted, and Vic made sure to catch Michelle at a time when she had nothing important going on.

"Now that all that holiday stuff and the Moldarian treasure recovery are over," said Vic, uncharacteristically both nervous and serious, "I have something important to ask you."

"Oh?" said Michelle, thinking she knew what was coming but hiding her eagerness.

Her suspicion was confirmed when Vic got down on one knee and held out an open box with a ring in it.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!" said Michelle, yanking Vic to her feet and kissing her.

"Whew..." said Vic, when they finally broke for air.

"You surely didn't think I'd turn you down, did you?" said Michelle, smirking and cuddling with Vic.

"I didn't know," said Vic, with a weak smile. "I've never done this before."

"When do you want to do it?" said Michelle, obviously eager.

"How about Spring Break in March?" said Vic.

"That's three months," said Michelle, frowning.

"I know it's a long time to wait, but..."

"No, no, no, you poor, clueless, former boy," said Michelle, grinning. "I'm worried that may not be enough time for all the prep work. But! I'll make do."

"Oh," said Vic, a bit confused but more relieved. "Anyway, you can thank Constantine for the size of the main stone in that ring. He insisted on giving me and the folks in Tricorne rewards. We all chose relatively modest items, rather than money, but he got generous even with those."

"You were already planning to ask me then?" said Michelle.

"Well before that, actually. Anyway, he gave me a ring with a brilliant cut diamond nearly twice the size of what I asked for. I mean, I couldn't just turn it down, could I?"

"Hah! No. You be sure and invite him to the wedding, too. I know he won't come, but let him know he's welcome and that we also count that stone as his wedding gift to us."

"Good idea."