Paranormals (Book 2): We Are Not Alone

by Andrews, Christopher

  Not sure where this was going, Steve answered, “Well ... yeah, it does, actually. It projects a sort of, you know, dramatic flare, an iconic panache and mystique—” He caught himself, remembering that his guest, translator or not, lacked a full command of English. He simplified it to, “It projects an image that I hope excites people.”

  Shining Star did his sort-of-nod thing. “I see.” But he seemed vaguely disappointed and pensive now, though that super-dark mask of his made it hard to tell for sure.

  Wanting to fill the awkward silence, Steve pointed and said truthfully, “Your cape looks awesome, by the way. Does your cape have a special meaning? I mean, beyond being a part of your uniform?”

  Shining Star remained quiet long enough for Steve to wonder if he hadn’t understood the question, but then he said, “To us ... where I’m from, a cape symbols regal distinction. I wear my cape recall this, and other things.” He offered a slight smile and added, “Besides to be part of my uniform.”

  “Ah.” Steve nodded, though he wasn’t sure he followed all of that or how much meaning was lost in the translation. Were there parts of Russia where the higher-ups still wore capes? Was this guy descended from royalty?

  “Why don’t you come inside with me?” he invited — if nothing else, Alan and Ardette would provide two more sets of ears for Callin’s broken English. He stepped toward the training center with a “come along” gesture.

  Shining Star hesitated, and even shifted his weight away; for a second, it looked like he might fly off instead. But then, to Steve’s relief, he semi-nodded and followed.

  This sense of reluctance from Shining Star had Steve worried. If he only could’ve known how much not wearing his uniform tonight was dropping the ball.

  Talk about your D’oh! decisions. This sucks ...

  They entered the training center across from the control area, and Steve offered a quick, “You remember Alan and Ardette from last night?” as they crossed the open room.

  “He’s so young,” Ardette whispered to Alan as they approached. Alan and Ardette both offered Shining Star a brief but friendly greeting, and he returned the same, craning his head forward in what looked like a cross between his semi-nod and a head bow.

  Ardette then added, “Would you prefer we address you as ‘Shining Star’ or ‘Callin’?”

  Their guest considered, then answered, “Callin less formal. I do not want make any discomfort, so please, call me Callin.”

  Ardette smiled. “Callin it is,” she said, making sure to pronounce it with the appropriate accent. “Would you like anything to eat? To drink?”

  Callin appeared caught off-guard by this offer, but before Ardette could feel too abashed, he replied, “If you have simple vegetable, then that would be very appreciated. Thank you. And ... water?”

  “I believe I have some carrot sticks in the mini-fridge,” she said, and walked away to retrieve them.

  Alan stepped forward, more relaxed than before, and the reason why was evident to Steve as soon as he spoke: Technology.

  “Callin,” he said, pointing to the device attached to Callin’s collar, “we can’t help but notice that you’re using a translator. I’ve seen some prototypes for this sort of tech before, but to have it working in real time like this? That’s truly amazing.” For a moment, it looked as though he might reach right out and touch it, but he caught himself and settled for pointing at it again. “If you don’t mind my asking ... where did you get it? You didn’t build it yourself, did you?”

  Fingering the device below his throat, Callin answered, “No, I did not build it.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m afraid I cannot tell to where I got it. It’s ...” He paused again, and when he finished his sentence, his pitch went up, as though he were uncertain what he was saying would translate correctly. “... classified?”

  Steve and Alan both nodded; everyone in this room appreciated technology being classified. Alan assured him, “I understand. I guess I won’t ask if I can examine it then.”

  Steve made sure to chuckle, hoping this would help Callin understand that Alan was making a joke. Callin did his thin smile, showing he got it.

  Ardette returned with a plastic tub of carrot sticks and an open bottle of water. She gestured with the bottle to make sure Callin saw it, placing it on the work table beside him; she handed the tub of carrots directly to him, saying, “Feel free to take off your mask, if you’re comfortable.”

  “Thank you, yes.” Callin removed the pliable eyepiece with one gloved hand — again exposing his striking silver eyes, and without at all mussing his strange thin-but-thick hair — and tucked it into his dark-silver belt. He picked out one of the carrot sticks, stared at it for a moment, gave it a quick sniff, then took a bite. It agreed with him, and he again said, “Thank you.”

  Huh, Steve thought. You’d think he’d never seen a carrot before.

  Determined to take control of this meet-and-greet once and for all, Steve lowered himself onto a stool next to the work table, and indicated for Callin to do the same. Alan and Ardette moved around to the other side of the table, but remained standing.

  Flipping his silver cape back with a somewhat grand (and presumably practiced) move, Callin sat next to Steve even as he continued to munch periodically on the carrots.

  “Okay, Callin,” Steve began in what he hoped was a mentor-ish tone of voice. “What we know so far is: You’ve gone paranormal, you saw me in a fight and followed me here, and you want to learn about being a superhero. I guess the natural next questions would be, what can you do? What powers did you get from the Paranormal Effect, and how long have you had them?”

  Callin took a sip of water, then said, “I understand that you need knowledge of these things, and I’ll tell you the rudiments. But I hope understanding that if I choose to keep some secrets to themselves.”

  The end got a little choppy to Steve’s ears, so he clarified, “You want to hold some things back, keep them to yourself. Right?”

  Callin semi-nodded. “Yes. A few. At this time.”

  Steve’s first impulse was that the “secrets” bar was a little too lopsided for his taste, and he knew Alan was thinking the same thing. But there wasn’t much he could do to force the issue, so for diplomacy’s sake, he opted to say, “Fair enough, for now.”

  Callin swallowed, pulled out another carrot but held onto this one as he said, “The Paranormal influence gave me specialty to defy gravity, superordinate strength and durability, and I can rein in the energy project, similar to a plasma from stars.”

  Steve whistled — some paranormals were strong, like Powerhouse, and some could fly, but rarely did the two mix into the same person. But “rein in the energy” ...?

  “So,” Steve clarified, “you can fly, you’re strong and you’re tough. And you can ... absorb energy? From the sun?”

  Callin shook his head with that chin-jut of his. “I’m sorry, let me to try again. I do not absorb energy. Plasma-similar energy comes from within me. I do not absorb, at least not as usually. I could do it, but it will be a heavy burden to body.”

  Steve smiled. “Okay. I thought I was gonna have to ask if you have X-ray vision and super-hearing, too.” Callin didn’t get the joke, and appeared to be composing a serious reply, so Steve waved it off. “Is that why you glow when you fly?”

  “Yes, my flight and energy collinear.”

  Recalling the night before, when Callin pointed his hand at Alan, Steve asked, “Can you project energy, too? Offensively?”

  “Yes. And also defensive, but not as capable.”

  “When you flew off last night and arrived this evening, you went pretty fast. Do you have super-speed?”

  “When I fly. Else, I’m in a measure faster than before conversion, but not very ... super.”

  Ardette sighed happily. “Well, Callin, I for one am very glad that you’ve decided to follow Steve’s example instead of going rogue.”

  “No doubt,” Steve agreed.

  Callin thin-smiled at A
rdette and said, “No, I did not want to go rogue. It was not my way. I want to be superhero.”

  Alan said, “Not to look a gift horse— I mean, not to sound ungrateful ... but why do you want to be a hero?”

  “Alan!” both Steve and Ardette blurted, the former startled and the latter aghast.

  “No, I mean it, I’m serious. Look, Callin, I’m not trying to offend you. But if the last six years have demonstrated anything, it’s that most people do go rogue, or at best act self-serving, maybe neutral. Most people get these new powers and just want to take, take, take for themselves or go out and bully everyone they now think is weaker than they are.”

  Callin responded with a straightforward, “Yes, I have seen a great lot of that.”

  “And it sucks,” Steve added, mostly to himself. Then, conceding to the thread Alan had begun, he said, “In my case, Callin, a little boy was my inspiration. He wrote an essay for school, and I ended up reading it. It was all about the paranormals, and how we have boatloads of rogues but no real heroes. We’ve got plenty of heroes in comics and movies and TV, but in real life, almost no one was stepping forward — certainly not as a superhero, with a costume and everything. I was ... I was having a bad time when I got my— got my powers. That essay inspired me to turn something bad into something good, and get out there and help people.” He tipped his head toward Callin. “And to try and inspire others to do the same.”

  “Yes, I also enjoy helping people. But my stirring would have difficult to explain in full at this time.” He took a quick sip of water before continuing, “But ... where I am from, my people being persecuted a very long time. I always hated it and wanted do something about it ...”

  Russia, Steve thought. Gotta be a minority group from Russia, or one of the other old Communist nations.

  Callin fell silent for a moment, a contemplative look in his silver eyes. “Fewer years ago, the community where I lived, I walked upon a small boy being persecuted over the five big boys. Sad, these were my own people, people who should to know better, bully one of their own.” His eyes tightened as he stared off into space, remembering. “The victim was younger than I, and bullies were older. I took a stand — I ‘stepped forward’ — and stopped them.” Then he chuckled for the first time, a very natural sound given his other quirky mannerisms. “My father was no happier with me.”

  “Your father knew you’d gone paranormal?”

  “I had no paranormal influence when it happened.”

  Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t have your powers yet, and you stopped five older bullies?”

  Callin smirked, another very recognizable expression. “I do not like bullies.”

  Steve really, really liked this. “Awesome.” He looked over to Alan and Ardette and, as if they had not just heard the story themselves, said, “He took on five bullies and won!”

  “Oh, boy,” Ardette teased. “You two are going to get along just fine.”

  Callin considered this, and looked at Steve. He then addressed them all. “I want to learn about Steve’s way of things. I want to learn about doing the right things here.”

  “And I promise to do my best,” Steve replied. “I mean, I can’t tell you how to use your powers — every paranormal is their own best expert there. But I’ll give you tips, suggestions, guidance ... anything I can to help.”

  “Thank you, Steve.”

  “Thank you, Callin.” Steve paused, thinking. “Now ... if you show up to fight a rogue in that outfit, all eyes will be on you in a heartbeat — especially if you fly in glowing like you do. We’ll need to plan that a little, if we can. You and I can work together here, maybe even get access to a PCA testing vault, get some concrete ideas of your limits. I’ve got a contact who I know will be quite pleased to have you on our side.” He chuckled. “I can tell you now, he’ll want to draft you right into the PCA — we can talk about that, too. If that’s what you decide to do, he’ll be the best one to recruit you, and let you move at your own pace. But if you make your debut in the wrong place or around the wrong people, believe me, the PCA will try to draft you right on the spot, or they might even turn on you, just like that.” Steve snapped his fingers.

  Then the strangest thing happened: Callin’s eyes flew open wide, an expression of profound delight upon his face. “What was that?” he asked, his voice soft and awestruck.

  “What?” Steve glanced at Alan and Ardette, but they were as confused as he was.

  Callin pointed at Steve’s hand. “That thing, that action you took with your fingers ... what was that?”

  “Uh ... this?” Steve snapped his fingers again.

  Callin gaped at Steve’s fingers in wonder ... then opened his mouth and howled with laughter! It was very odd and out of place, but it was so joyful and infectious, Steve and the others couldn’t help but smile with him — it was pure, unabashed laughter, like that usually only heard from young children.

  Callin could barely breathe, but he managed to say, “Do ... do it again ...”

  So Steve snapped his fingers once more, and Callin threw his head back as another wave of laughter overwhelmed him, resting one hand on the work table as the other wrapped across his mid-section.

  The only stain on this charming moment came when Steve got his first good look at Callin’s teeth; not difficult to do with his mouth open so wide. Callin appeared to have nothing but molars — no incisors, no canines, just molars from front to back, side to side. It was very weird looking.

  Poor guy, Steve thought even as he grinned along with Callin’s inexplicable fit of whimsy. He got some cool powers out of it, but man, the Paranormal Effect sure did a number on his looks. I’ve seen worse, but still ... No wonder he asked for “simple vegetables” earlier. He probably can’t eat meat anymore — not without cutting it into small pieces first.

  Callin settled down, wiping tears from his cheeks as he chortled intermittently. “I’m sorry ... I’m sorry ... that is just, if your action surprised me, I ...”

  Alan, who shared the same sympathetic smile as the others, asked, “Can you fill us in on the joke? I haven’t laughed that hard in years!”

  “I ... I ...” Callin finally calmed down, even grew a bit serious, though the occasional chuckle still slipped through. “I’m afraid I can’t to explain. It’s ... I’m sorry, my translator won’t be able to divide this. I don’t mean to offend, I just don’t know how to expression.” He stared down at Steve’s fingers, and made a visible effort to resist cracking up all over again.

  “Okay, well ...” Steve said, “I guess I’ll refrain from doing that for now. I don’t want you to pass out on us or anything.”

  Callin guffawed once more, but covered his mouth with a silver-gloved hand and offered Steve a semi-nod of agreement.

  The conversation wound down after that. Callin was mum in regards to his personal background, claiming equal parts desire for privacy and concern about his translator not getting things right. Steve filled most of the next half-hour discussing the overall purpose of Vortex, explaining that while he did want to help Callin, he asked in return that the Shining Star uphold the same iconic image of a superhero — with luck, the next paranormal hero wouldn’t take so long to follow in their footsteps.

  Finally, Callin declared that he must take his leave. Steve was disappointed — he could’ve talked all night! — but he didn’t want to be pushy about it. Callin thanked all of them for their hospitality and patience, and promised to return again, at the same time and meeting place, the following night. He also indicated that his translator might be working even better by then (which had Alan practically drooling).

  Replacing the pitch black mask over his eyes, Callin followed Steve as they exited the building; Steve checked the surrounding area before waving him through the door.

  “I’m looking forward to our next visit,” Steve told him.

  “I am as well. I appreciate all that you will to teach me.” He stepped forward as though to fly off, then smiled and looked back.
“Steve ... you would do that trick with the fingers, one more time?”

  Steve snapped his fingers, and although he was no longer about to bust-a-gut, Callin still released a hearty laugh over it.

  “Thank you. To tomorrow night, then.”

  The now-familiar glow enveloped Callin’s body and, as Steve waved his farewell, the Shining Star shot up into the night sky, leaving the same shimmering comet tail that faded a moment later.

  That is so cool ...

  PCA

  Back in the training center, the moment Steve and Callin departed, Alan hurried over to one of the computers. He clicked the mouse a few times, half-grunting in satisfaction.

  Curious, Ardette joined him. “What’s up?”

  Alan opened a window, revealing a reasonably clear digital image of Callin’s unmasked face.

  “What in—? Alan, how did you get that picture?” Ardette looked around for the location of the camera; she didn’t see one, which perturbed her. “Why did you take Callin’s picture?”

  Alan raised his eyebrows, surprised he had to explain it to her. “Ardette, this ‘Callin’ fellow might seem like a nice young man, but that doesn’t change the fact that he already knows far too much about Steve than he should.” He shook his head. “Steve’s enthusiasm for finally inspiring a fellow superhero is blinding him to the potential danger. So it’s up to us to watch his back.”

  “I understand that. But Steve might not.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But in the meantime, I’m going to feed this photo ... just of Callin’s face, I’m cropping out the Shining Star costume ...” Alan was already clicking away with the mouse. “... into Davison’s Federal-tied network. I’m hoping the facial-recognition software at the FBI or CIA, or even the PCA, might help identify this ‘person of interest.’ That’s all I want, to identify Callin, if possible — I promise. I’m not looking to get him into any trouble, I just want to keep Steve out of trouble.” He was typing now. “I’m going to place the image in anonymously and discretely, and I’ll delete any trace of—”