by Nick Svolos
Speaking of which, I wasn’t able to spot a way to shut this place down. There were computer terminals all over the place, but they weren’t much help. I was no Luddite. I knew enough about computers to pay my bills, get movie tickets and check the box scores, but hacking an underground marvel of super science was way beyond me. About the best I could do was poke around and try to make some sense out of the schematics.
I managed to learn a couple of things from the drawings. The first was that the whole place ran off a set of fusion reactors in the basement. If those went off-line, there was a bank of batteries on the level above the reactors that could keep the base running for a while. I couldn’t tell how long it would take for them to run out of juice, so it seemed any plan to shut this place down would have to somehow deal with both of those levels.
The second thing I managed to figure out was where they were holding Dawson and the rest of our little crew. They were actually on the same level as the cell where I had initially woken up after my own capture, just on the other side of the central elevator bank. I remembered seeing some sort of a control panel when Jezebel walked me out of that place. Maybe I could use that to free them. I committed the layout to memory.
Getting down there might be a trick. The elevators seemed to recognize their passengers and where they were expected to go. They didn’t have buttons. You just stepped into them, and they took you wherever you were supposed to be. If you needed to go somewhere else, you’d say so and the computer did the rest. Somehow, I didn’t think it would take me down to the detention level. I’d have to find another way. Maybe there was a stairwell for emergencies or something.
You might be thinking, “Of course there’s an emergency stairwell. Who builds a gigantic underground super-science facility without an emergency stairwell?” It turned out the answer to that question was a mad scientist who had no fear that something might go wrong enough to make one necessary. I’m not kidding. I couldn’t find one in the drawings, and in all my travels through the facility I never saw so much as an emergency exit sign. Apparently, the concept of a situation that couldn’t be solved by the application of a bunch of robots was simply not worth considering.
I was going to need to get creative. I studied the documentation until I thought I had a fairly good idea of how the elevators worked. There wasn’t anything in them about sensors that might detect a reporter crawling around in the shaft, but it seemed like the sort of thing I’d need to watch out for.
I spent the rest of my day wandering around the complex looking for tools. I wasn’t exactly sure what I would need, but since whatever I was going to do would probably involve making my way through an elevator shaft without a car, a pry bar and some rope would be a good start. There were, of course, plenty of air ducts, but I wasn’t sure I could squirm my way through one. Dawson sure as hell wouldn’t fit, so they probably wouldn’t be much use if I was going to have help wrecking this place.
My search for a storage room stocked with tools proved fruitless. There wasn’t a lot of need for something like that in a place run by robots, I supposed. Looking at the various robots, I noticed that they had arms designed to accomplish whatever task they were performing at the time. Other than that, they were identical. That got me to thinking that maybe the arms were interchangeable. If that was the case, they were probably switched around in the little alcoves where they lived when they didn’t have anything to do. That gave me an idea.
I went back up to my quarters, sat down at the desk and started transcribing my notes. I needed to do it anyway, but it gave me the cover to call out to the computer, “Say, can I get a glass of water?”
Thirty seconds later, the door in the wall slid open and one of the bots rolled in with a pitcher of ice water and a glass. While the machine set it down on a table next to the desk, I took a quick look into the alcove. Sure enough, I could see an array of arms on a set of racks. Most of them were equipped with domestic tools: an arm with a duster, another with a vacuum attachment, etc., but there was one that looked like it might work as a pry bar. There even appeared to be a dumbwaiter setup, but it didn’t look big enough for me to squirm through. Sadly, I didn’t see any arms with a convenient grappling hook and nylon rope, but hoping for that would be pushing it. Still, at least I knew where I could find one of the tools I needed.
I took a frosty sip of water and set my mind to the matter of the rope. Hmmm, robots probably didn’t use a lot of the stuff, but I knew who did. National Park Rangers. Why, I’d be willing to bet Oliphant had all sorts of useful gear in that truck of hers. For that matter, the Army guys probably had a few nifty toys as well. I felt like a knucklehead for not thinking of it sooner. I wondered where they put the team’s vehicles after our capture. Seemed like it would be a dumb mistake to just leave them out in the desert where someone might find them if people came looking for us. They had to be somewhere inside the base.
With a new sense of purpose, I set out to find the cars. This involved another trip to the nanotech facility with its extremely helpful overseer to re-examine the schematics. Sure enough, there was a garage deck right above the detention level. It even had access to allow vehicles to leave the mountain. I figured this was where the Force gang came to get their product, so it made sense that it would be accessible, and if you wanted to hide a humvee and a ranger truck, this was where you’d put them. Now I just needed an excuse to go down there.
The voice of the central computer informed me that my presence was requested in the Doctor’s quarters in fifteen minutes for dinner, so I didn’t get a chance to give the matter much thought. I sighed, took one last look at the schematics and left to go wash up.
***
“The time has come for you to meet the rest of my project team, Mr. Conway,” Doctor Schadenfreude began as I entered his quarters.
I noticed that the dining table had been expanded, or maybe replaced with a larger one that held seven place settings. The idea popped into my head that there had to be another system in place to move the larger pieces of furniture and equipment around the facility that I’d missed when I studied the schematics. Something to look into later.
“Before they arrive, I must explain something. While they are of great utility to my plan, they are unaware of the ultimate goal of this project. With the exception of Jezebel, they do not know they will lose their powers when my great work is complete. I trust you will keep the knowledge I have shared with you to yourself.”
Oh, now there was an interesting tidbit.
“Of course, Doctor. My lips are sealed.” Or maybe not. Depends on whether or not I can use one of them to bring your little house of cards crashing down. Of course, I didn’t actually say that. I hoped again that he didn’t have a way to read minds and reminded myself to guard my thoughts.
“Excellent. I think you will find that they are a most interesting collection of people. Also, they are unaware of my relationship with Jezebel. It would be best if it stayed that way, don’t you agree? Now, I trust your information gathering is proceeding well. Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes. Your robots have been very helpful,” I said. “You know, there is one thing. I wanted to run some numbers, but I can’t find my calculator. I know it was in my bag, but maybe it fell out somehow.”
“Unlikely. My robots are most careful. Perhaps it is still in your vehicle.”
“Maybe. Are the cars in the base somewhere?”
“Yes. Simply ask the elevator to take you to the motor pool. I’ll see to it you have access.”
“Thank you. I know it seems silly, but it was a graduation gift from my father.”
“Think nothing of it. While I don’t hold with such sentimental attachments, I see no harm in them.”
Sometimes I’m so clever I make myself sick.
The elevator doors opened and the aforementioned interesting collection of people entered the room. The Doctor, clearly enjoying his role as host, stepped forward to greet them. “Ah, willkommen my friends. Pl
ease come closer. I have some introductions I would like to make.” He gestured to yours truly. “Friends, this is Reuben Conway. I believe most of you may already know him by reputation. He is a reporter for the Los Angeles Beacon. I am pleased to announce that he has graciously accepted a position with our team as our chronicler.
“Mr. Conway,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder, “I believe you are already acquainted with Jezebel.”
I shook the hand of my sexy tormentor before he ushered me along the line to a woman who looked like a harpy.
“And this is Egress. Egress, Mr. Conway.”
She was covered in fine, grey feathers and had a pair of leathery wings sprouting from her shoulder blades. Her feet were actually four-toed talons, like a bird’s, ending in sharp, brutal-looking claws. As she shook my hand, I noted similar claws extending from each fingertip. She didn’t have much in the way of a costume, just a sports bra and a pair of shorts. Her face was beautiful in an odd, savage way, but her deep brown eyes betrayed a deep sadness behind them.
We exchanged pleasantries and Dr. Schadenfreude moved me along to the next supervillain. This turned out to be the overseer guy from the drug den, the one who’d killed the cop with green plasma blasts.
“This is Sledge. We were fortunate enough to extract him from police custody this morning.” He was a big guy, well-muscled and standing about six-three. He wore a black sleeveless t-shirt and jeans, which offset the ebony of his skin. The only color on him was a red bandana worn loosely around his neck. He had a huge, swollen bruise on his forehead above the left eye.
He stuck out his hand, saying, “Yeah, I think we’ve met but haven’t been formally introduced. That was you on the fire escape the other night, wasn’t it? I hope there’s no hard feelings.”
“I’m cool if you are. Wasn’t anything personal, right?” I lied. I was pretty sure there was a dead cop’s family somewhere that was taking things pretty personally right about then. “How’d you get out?”
“They decided to take me over to the hospital to get this checked out,” he smiled, indicating the welt on his head. “Didn’t turn out the way they planned. Man, I always thought Panhandler was just a one-trick pony, like that stank of his was all he had. Never knew he could hit that hard.”
“Yeah, he’s full of surprises. That, and you did kind of kill his sidekick.”
“Huh?”
“Remember that boy who tried to fly out your window?”
“Oh, shit.”
“Well, in a few days, such things will not be an issue, ja?” the scientist interrupted us.
“My apologies,” I said, playing it off. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I just wanted Sledge to know. Once word of his escape gets out, there’s going to be a very motivated superhero looking for him.”
“Naw, man. I appreciate the tip. I’m just gonna lay low here ‘till Saturday, anyways, so it’s all good.”
“Just so,” Schadenfreude nodded, “And now, I’d like to introduce the great and powerful Bongo.”
He indicated a young asian kid, kind of on the short side, but with the physique that would have been at home on the stage of a bodybuilding competition. His jet-black hair stuck out at all angles like one of Helen’s anime characters. He wore a Legends of Zelda t-shirt over a pair of baggy sweatpants. He had a green, wraparound cloth mask with eyeholes, which he probably picked up at a comic bookstore.
“Now, be careful to remember your training, Bongo. We can’t have you crushing poor Mr. Conway’s hand. He needs that for his work, after all.”
“No problem, Doc,” he grinned happily. “Pleased ta meet ya, Reuben.”
“The pleasure’s mine.” I involuntarily winced as he gripped my hand like a hydraulic press. “Bongo, is it?”
“Yeah. My online screen name. Figure when I’m famous, people I used to play with will see it and those noobs’ll be all, like, woah! You know?”
“Cool,” I said, thinking it was anything but.
“Cool, indeed,” the scientist commented in a tone that made it clear he agreed with me. “And last, but by no means least, I’d like you to meet Professor Polymer.”
The last man wore a blue and white skinsuit that covered his entire head. White goggles protected his eyes. He stood behind Bongo, and rather than making his way around his teammate’s bulk, he simply stretched out his right hand in a luxurious wavy arc that terminated when it reached my own.
“Oh, wow!” I exclaimed in poorly-concealed delight. “Stretching powers? Awesome!”
He nodded. “Yup. Guess I got lucky. I’m told it’s pretty rare.”
“I’ll say. I think the last documented stretch was Rubberband Man, and he died in ‘52. I hope you’ll let me interview you sometime.” Sure, I was playing my role, but I was also geeking out a little. I’d never met a stretch, much less had a chance to sit down and talk with one. It would make for yet another great story.
“Sure, once this is all over, I’d be happy to.”
“Excellent!” Dr. Schadenfreude concluded our meet-and-greet session. “Let us adjourn to the dining area. I believe the robots have prepared some authentic Chinese dishes and I am eager to sample them.”
Getting a bunch of superhumans to sit down to dinner is never difficult. Mostly, the trick is to get out of the way. The robots loaded the table down with several huge platters of delicious dishes that didn’t look or taste anything like what you’d normally find in the neighborhood Chinese take-out joint. The dishes were all served family style, which meant the Doctor and I, sitting down at one end of the table, would have starved to death before we managed to wrestle any of the food away from the supervillain feeding frenzy taking place. A guy could lose a hand reaching down there. Fortunately, the robots managed to rotate the reinforcements and all of the dishes eventually made it down to our end of the table. There was one dish called cong you bing that I took quite a liking to. Basically a crunchy fried flatbread filled with scallions, according to the robot I asked. You hold it with chopsticks, dip it into broth and enjoy. The robots matched it up with a sweet Riesling. Tasty.
The dinner was a lively affair, with stories, conversation and wine flowing freely, and I was able to forget for a while that I was dining with a bunch of supervillains in the lair of a bona-fide mad scientist. The only irritant was Jezebel, sitting across the table from me, methodically working her way up my pant leg with her foot. Fortunately, the table was wide enough that she couldn’t get much higher than mid-shin, so I ignored her. I think ignoring her was the worst punishment I could inflict on her, because by the time the robots brought around sliced oranges to finish the meal, she’d given up on her little game and settled into a petulant little pout.
I didn’t know if it was the wine or just the last several days finally catching up to me, but I eventually found myself nodding off and excused myself to get some sleep. After saying my goodbyes, I went down to my quarters, then realized that I’d probably be getting an unwelcome visit before long. “Computer, I’d like to get some sleep and don’t want to be disturbed. Can you see to it?”
“Of course, Mr. Conway,” the computer replied in an efficient monotone. “Do your instructions include Jezebel?”
“Oh yeah. They especially include Jezebel.”
“As you wish, sir. Have a restful night.”
I figured Jezebel could override any command I could give to the computer and considered moving some of the furniture to block the elevator door. I gave up on it after testing the weight of the couch. Screw it. If she tried anything, I’d just have to give her another dose of rejection.
I slipped out of the jumpsuit and plopped down on the bed. Tired as I was, sleep eluded me. My mind just wouldn’t stop working. There was a lot on my plate, and most of it was stuff I wasn’t particularly well-equipped to deal with. Mostly, though, my thoughts were on Helen, still stuck in North Korea.
The dream from a couple of nights before came to mind. The one where she was trying to tell me something, but I c
ouldn’t hear it. I remembered her and the team blinking that message; “Send Reuben Conway.” There was something I was supposed to do in North Korea. She was expecting me to come and somehow help them. Instead, I’d run off to the desert and gotten myself captured by a mad scientist. Now, there was no way I’d ever make it there. I felt ashamed. I’d let her down.
Eventually, after what seemed like hours, the self-recriminations gave way to exhaustion, and I drifted off into a fitful sleep.
XIII
I awoke early, my stomach still in knots. At least my head was clear. I needed to be sharp, because this was the day I was going to blow this place sky high. I still didn’t exactly know how I was going to do it. All I knew was that it needed to be done. The test was scheduled for sometime Saturday, and this was Friday morning. It was today or never.
I went down to the hangar bay to settle my nerves with my morning run and make one last mental run-through of my plan. First, I’d see if Dr. Schadenfreude needed me for anything. I figured he probably wouldn’t; he’d be pretty busy getting everything ready. The rest of the SchadenForce—yeah, seriously, they really called themselves that—would be either doing their jobs or resting up for tomorrow. If everything went right, I’d be free to walk around just like I did yesterday. I had a ready-made excuse to go to the motor pool to look for my non-existent calculator, and hopefully I’d find the equipment I needed in the Ranger’s truck. Then, either I’d find a way down to the detention level or I’d wait for the elevator to pass, pry open the door and climb down. It was only one level. Then I’d spring the rest of the team. Simple enough. I felt good about that part of the plan.
