1999: A Superhero Novel

by Hodden, TE

  Frost began to form on the road around him, radiating out from him in a circular pattern of chains and leaves.

  Catherine backed away from the growing circle. Her spear prickled in her hand, at the sensation of the magic. “Charlie? How do I help?”

  “You can’t,” he said. “I need to concentrate. I don’t know if this has ever been done before.”

  The air around him distorted, blurring the interior slightly out of focus.

  “Cathy?” Melisa said over the link. “It’s in position. It’s cycling power. Five seconds. Four, three, two, one…”

  There was a flash in the sky, and a streak of fire, that lanced down.

  The city stopped, and held its collective breath, as everybody looked up. The lance of fire ended at within the dome of distortion. The shell dropped slowly, painfully slowly, to the ground, right by Charlie’s toes. The ground buckled, and distorted, in slow motion, as it tore out a crater. The earth heaved up in waves, that broke against the edges of the dome, no, the half-buried sphere of the force field. Catherine glimpsed gas pipes and electric cables exposed in the crater, then there was the flash of an explosion.

  The dome filled with dirt, debris, and fire, churning in a maelstrom, like the blizzard in a snow globe.

  “We’re okay,” Catherine whispered. “I think he contained it. I mean… we’re not dead yet, right?”

  The churning chaos in the sphere began to cohere into a pattern, into a whirlpool of smoke, dust, and fire, that grew faster and faster, spinning so fast that the grit and dirt glowed red hot, then white hot, and then dissolving into white flames, as the firestorm howled against the sphere.

  A ray of fire burst from the bubble, and streaked up to the sky, draining the inferno away. The pillar of fire burned as bright as the sun for a split second, before it dissolved into smoke on the breeze. There was a ball of light, small and distant, in the sky.

  “Melisa?” Catherine asked. “What happened to the satellite.”

  “It’s…” Melisa laughed. “It’s gone. I lost contact with it.”

  “I think,” Catherine said, “that it just exploded.”

  The sphere faded away.

  The Yeoman was stood in a perfect hemisphere bowl of a crater, as burning dust settled around him. He stared up at Catherine. “I told you I could do it.”

  Catherine nodded. “Want a hand up?”

  11110

  Harris stood in his office, and stared at the screen set into the far wall. The presidential seal filled the screen as he waited on hold. He had been waiting for some time.

  He was dressed reasonably smartly in his tweed jacket over a sweater, and nursing a cup of coffee in his hands. At last the screen chimed, and President Luther Allistaire stared back at him, from the connection in the Oval Office.

  “Agent Harris,” Allistaire said, with a friendly smile. “If you could keep your report brief, I would be grateful. I’m afraid I have… all kinds of work to deal with. The Special Duties battalion have been trained for orbital deployment, and are disarming any satellite we can’t trust since the hacking incident.”

  Harris nodded. “And you are deploying new orbital arrays?”

  “Those,” Allistaire said, his tone a little colder, “are meant to be secret.”

  Harris shrugged. “We offer supply runs to Paradox. It’s hard not to notice the big devices hanging in geo-stationary orbit over every major State Capital, Sir.”

  Allistaire laughed. “I suppose it would be. Those are Project Overwatch. If something like Vector Zero, or God forbid, the Legion, happens again, they will offer our best chance of containing the situation.”

  Harris felt a cold shiver on his spine. “And if they are hacked too? Sir, is this a good idea?”

  Allistaire nodded. “I understand your concerns, but I can assure you, they are very well protected. We have learned a lot since Vector Zero was taken into custody.”

  Harris nodded. “May I ask where she came from? Where augmentations like that came from?”

  Allistaire sighed. “I’m afraid your clearance doesn’t stretch that far.”

  “And Elois Croft?” Harris asked.

  “We will find her,” Allistaire said. His tone softened. “She’s ill. She needs help. I think we can bring her, the real her, back.”

  Harris leant on his desk. “You know what this is, don’t you? You were there, when she was infected a few years back. You knew it was a fungus in her head.”

  Allistaire’s brow furrowed. “I understand this must be frustrating for you, Harris, and I have the upmost respect for your team, but…”

  “My clearance doesn’t stretch that far?” Harris asked.

  “No.” Allistaire sat back in his deep leather chair. “And to be frank? My predecessors have relied too heavily on the Honour Guard, since the fifties. I want to make sure that my country is ready to face the threats we have seen, with or without your help. Unfortunately, that may mean having to keep you out the loop, for security reasons. Vector Zero got the drop on all of us, and none of us can afford to risk it happening again. Measures will be taken. They are being taken. Is that understood?”

  Harris’s jaw set. His expression hardened. He understood it, but he didn’t like it, and his trust was worn thin. “Sir, Yes Sir!”

  Allistaire smiled. “Good. With that in mind, you will cancel your team’s search for Elois, and pass all your findings to Captain Lionheart. Is that understood?”

  “Understood,” Harris growled.

  “And, I want you to apply some… gentle and friendly leverage on your Martian friend.” Allistaire’s smile had the look of a cat who had backed a mouse into the corner. “I understand she has been growing a sort of barley, in a field the size of the Pacific. No doubt she will want to share that harvest with the needy and hungry. I would like to think that we, America, would be best placed to help ensure it is shared where it is most needed.”

  Harris shrugged. “I can extend your offer, but Summers is her own woman, with her own plans.”

  “I was rather thinking Scarlet Knight should do that.” Allistaire pursed his lips. “I understand these last few weeks, she has become, very familiar with our Martian friend.”

  “That,” Harris said, quietly, “is none of our business.”

  “As you wish. We shall talk again.” The President cut off the link.

  Harris sighed. “Asshole.” He flicked off the screen and stepped out of his office, onto the landing.

  Catherine and Angel were leaning on the balcony. Catherine was dressed for her date with Summers, in a black blouse, embroidered with purple flowers, tight beige trousers, and a pair of boots with deadly heels. Angel was dressed in many shades of lilac and pink, her veil shimmering slightly with her breath.

  Angel saw Harris and put a finger to her lips.

  Down in the hallway Charlie was waiting by the elevator.

  Harris lowered his voice to a whisper. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

  Catherine smiled. “Probably, but he kept asking when Mel was going to be done on the Nomad, and…”

  Angel sighed. “They have tried to talk so much, and found so few words.”

  Harris glowered. “Probably because they are always watched!”

  Catherine clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shush!”

  The elevator doors opened, and Melisa started at the sight of Charlie. Her eyes widened in panic, the same time her smile opened over her teeth.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hi.” Charlie shifted awkwardly. “I’ve been thinking about the thing we… never quite… manage… to…”

  “The complicated thing.” Melisa nodded. “We probably should talk about it. Right?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I don’t think we should talk. I think there should be an easier way.”

  Melisa looked at him. “Charlie what are you… oh… You want me to…”

  He stepped closer and looked into her eyes. “I don’t want secrets from you. For better or worse, this is
… what I feel, and what I know of you, and…”

  Melisa put a hand to his cheek, and closed her eyes. Her expression softened, into a rosy, nervous, smile. “Yeah. I… want all that too.” She rose up on tip toes, and met him in a kiss.

  Harris backed away, shaking his head.

  Part Three: We Are Legion

  September 1999

  Rock Harris (Scimitar) and Barney Mitchell (Osprey) follow

  A lead to the illegal arms market of Hadal.

  *

  Melisa Williams (Melody) and Charlie Gull (the Yeoman)

  Continue their search for the missing Elois Croft.

  *

  On the Moon, Padmaja Saketha prepares to receive

  A very important visitor…

  00000

  Padmaja Saketha stood in the observation bay of the Paradox Technologies Lunar Facility, leaning on the window that looked out over the landing pads to the silver wasteland. She nursed a coffee in her hands. The cybernetic hand could detect the temperature of the coffee, and trace the slight variations and currents of heat on the outer surface of the ceramics, but it was only warm and comforting to her flesh and blood hand.

  There were lights on the horizon. Her earpiece beeped.

  “Ma’m?” It was Berkley, her Operations Manager. A sweet natured Irishman with a long career overseeing the operations on oil rigs. “Our visitors are approaching.”

  Padmaja smiled. “Thank you. I will de down to meet them presently. I just want to… it for myself when it lands.”

  The blue and white space plane was making its final approach. The new Air Force One was a smaller, sleeker, vehicle than its predecessor, with a pointed nose, delta wings, the presidential seal on the sweeping tail, and space capable engines. It hovered over the landing pad, and descended vertically, touching down, and clamping to the pad.

  Air Force One, or Phoenix One, as the press had called it, was a remarkable achievement.

  A long standing Airforce experiment that had been hastily repainted as an icon of a new age.

  Padmaja watched until the pad began its descent. She strode to the elevator, and rode down to the hangars. She straightened her jacket and checked her hair. Her fingers brushed against the cybernetic plate on the side of her face. She winced.

  The elevator doors opened. She hurried out.

  President Luther Allistaire was making his way down the ramp from Airforce One, his hands held up in greeting. “Padmaja Paradox Saketha! I am… a big fan. Big fan!”

  Behind him were four men wearing business jackets over tight tactical sweaters, reinforced with patches of lightweight armour. Each had a buzzcut and rimless dark glasses. They carried submachine guns with long silencers at their side.

  Padmaja nodded at the armed men. “What is this?”

  “My security detail,” Allistaire said, waving her concerns away. “Unsurprisingly people are a little jumpy… They didn’t think a few good men with pistols would cut it, and made… other arrangements.” He held up a finger. “Anyway, we need to talk business, but first… Can I see them? Your Quantum Cascade Generators?”

  Padmaja cocked her head. “I can show you them, sir, but…”

  He held up a finger. “I know. I read your papers. They rely on a rare alien alloy, that makes them untenable for replacing power stations. You have here, a power source that could sustain the Western seaboard of the USA, for the next thirty years, with comfortable room for even the worst case estimate for the population explosion, and you wouldn’t use it on Earth, because of the potential hazards.” He looked at her. “Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Padmaja tapped her earpiece. “Berkley, I am taking the President, and one of his team members down to inspect the Core. Ensure the rest of his party are escorted to the lounge area and made comfortable.”

  Allistaire flashed her a bright smile. “Excellent. Harry. I suspect you will not be allowed to take your gun with you.”

  The tallest, strongest looking of the guards handed his gun to the one with the bleached hair.

  Padmaja smiled. “None of your men need guns, Sir. My station is quite secure.”

  Allistaire beamed. “Yes. I noticed. Unfortunately… my journey here and back are less secure.” He tapped his lips. “I don’t suppose you would consider tendering for the Whitehouse security contract?”

  Padmaja placed her palm to a scanner pad. Her sin tingled as her bio-signature was read. A heavily reinforced door hissed open.

  Allistaire and Harry followed her down a pristine white passageway.

  Padmaja glanced at the President. “So, why the interest in my project?”

  “Ah.” He gave her a sheepish look. “The next election will be won or lost on the environmental debate. My opponent will tell us it’s not just about the survival of the planet. We have to drill for jobs, open up protected lands to stimulate the economy, and roll back on protections to keep people in their jobs. He will claim that renewable is expensive, and puts your dollar at risk. And people will buy into that, because if you ask if something…even our future… is worth the cost…”

  “Somebody,” Padmaja agreed, “will put a figure on what it’s worth. Health. Clean air. Forests…”

  Padmaja felt a pang in her chest, as faint memories of old arguments stirred at the back of her mind. “I understand.”

  “Now…” Allistaire grinned. “Your X-Cell power units? Those are going to save the environment. Bio-electricity generated from bacteria? Great stuff. A battery that only requires charging once, and will last for the life of the phone, or the computer, or… any appliance? Those are great. That they can be cleanly disposed of? Amazing. But…”

  “Not the kind of amazing that wins elections?” Padmaja suggested.

  “No,” Allistaire agreed.

  A chrome sphere descended from the ceiling to inspect them.

  “Ah!” Allistaire stared at the sphere. “And what does this chap do if we are armed, or have not been assigned clearance?”

  “That depends on the threat you pose,” Padmaja assured him. “My defence drones are capable of a wide spectrum of responses, from force fields, to sonic attacks, to… more substantial defences.” She gestured to the walls surrounding them. “This corridor is the only way into the core, and it has sixty three distinctive countermeasures that can be deployed, and several hundred sensors.”

  The door at the far end opened, into the control bay for the Core. A long gallery room, with a large holographic display projected over the tall windows that looked down over the Quantum Cascade Generators.

  The generators were domes of frosted glass, full of a nebulous mist, that pulsed to a heartbeat rhythm with a neon purple light. They were spread out over the floor of a chamber the size of a stadium.

  Rani and Li were monitoring the output.

  Allistaire stepped past them, and looked out the windows. “Beautiful.”

  Padmaja folded her arms. “Sir. What is it you want? Some film footage, or an explanation of the technology? I don’t see how you expect to use my site, for your… campaign.”

  “That?” Allistaire puffed out his cheeks. “Oh, that was just to get me in here. I mean… this is the most secure site in the world.” He rolled his eyes. “So to speak. Harry?”

  The security guard moved impossibly fast.

  By the time Padmaja had blinked the command for her cyber-armour to fold out and encase her, Harry had crushed Rani’s windpipe in a paw-like hand, and had felled Li side handed chop to the back of his neck.

  He turned on Padmaja

  She threw a punch that should have been unstoppable.

  Yet he caught it. His veins bulged, black and livid under his skin. He stared at her through his mirrored glasses.

  “If you kill me,” Padmaja said, “you will never make it out of here alive.”

  Allistaire looked at her. “Oh? Really?” He considered the holographic controls, and adjusted down the harmonic shielding. “Here we go.”

  “You…” Padmaja swallowed, tr
ying not to panic. “You do not want to do that.”

  “Yes I do,” Allistaire said, brightly. “And when the core destabilises, and has to be vented, I want you to die in the resulting shockwave, just like your friends here.”

  Padmaja struggled, trying to claw herself from Harry’s grip.

  He tightened his hand, crushing her robotic arm, the plates buckling and cracking under his fingers.

  Padmaja stared at Allistaire. “Why? What… madness is this?”

  Allistaire gave her a sad look. “I have no idea. I just know what Misrule will do to me, or my family, or… anybody I care about, if I deny him. I’ve learned it is safer, and more profitable, not to ask questions. Now…”

  Harry slammed a fist into Padmaja’s chest.

  The world flashed white, and she gasped for air. Her body went slack, and she fell to the floor.

  Alarms sounded. The display flashed red.

  The ground began to rumble and shake beneath their feet, as jets of coolant hissed from the generators.

  Allistaire cleared his throat, and hit the intercom panel. “Oh God! Let us out! The core is going critical! Please!”

  The security doors opened. The sphere was powered down.

  The President and his inhuman guard stepped over Padmaja’s body as beyond the windows, ceiling louvres in the chamber opened, and the generators belched columns of sapphire flame into the endless night, with a shockwave that the control room like an earthquake.

  Padmaja lost her grip on reality, and sank into darkness.

  00001

  The submarine dropped over the edge of the trench, and pitched down into the inky darkness.

  Barney Mitchell kicked his rucksack under the bench before anybody noticed it quivering and shaking. His armour was getting more argumentative about his being unprotected, every time the hull plates groaned, and complained in the changing pressure.

  Apparently the suit didn’t grasp the concept of his being in disguise.

  He made a point of not looking at his watch. He didn’t dare think about how deep they were, or how strong quickly the immense pressures beyond the (worryingly) thin hull of the submarine would crush him to jelly.