Rogers tried. “Who are the 100 adults? Is the child Adolf Hitler? Is Jonas Salk or Martin Luther King Jr. on the train? What magic prevents me from trying to save them all? I’m not trying to be flip about your concerns, I get the need, but hypotheticals are abstract. Life happens in specifics. Even if I did answer, I doubt it would truly give you what you’re looking for. Having been in so many real situations, that’s not a decision I could make outside of the moment. I didn’t know my father long, but one thing he told me stuck: Talk is cheap. Don’t listen to what I say, watch what I do. That’s the best I can give you, doc.”
Kane pursed his lips. “Fair enough. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get out of this suit.”
Before he exited, Rogers called to him. “Dr. Kade? What would you do—save the child or the adults?”
“The adults, of course.”
Rogers nodded. “Of course.”
An hour later, the door opened again. He worried Kade was back to ask if a tree fell in a forest and no one was there to hear it, would it make a sound. But it was Fury.
“I know you’ve been in blackout with the area network down, but I couldn’t send anyone in until the integrity of the chamber seal was secure. I assume Kade gave you the news?”
“No. What news?”
“The signal from the sphere wasn’t about echolocation. It was transmitting. We thought it was as a steady tone, until Velez, one of our Signals Intelligence agents, realized it was a condensed version of Morse code. It was sending data.”
“Then there’ll be more.”
* * *
ONCE again, the castle’s quiet was interrupted by the Sonikey’s high-pitched shriek. This time it didn’t make Schmidt feel like trying to rip his own head apart. Zola considered this to be a good sign.
“The palliative drugs I gave you have provided some relief?”
The Skull picked up the humming crystal and twirled it between steady fingers. “Perhaps. But they do say laughter is the best medicine. Seeing my ‘noble’ foe forced to fight by proxy provided some much-needed schadenfreude.”
He smiled at the reporters and pundits filling the screens, all questioning why Captain America had not battled the sphere himself.
“It hurt for him not to be there. I know it. It made him feel powerless, as impotent as an insect that can only dream of being a man. I hope he found it…humiliating.”
Zola pointed to the humming device. “The next Sleeper—can you guess where it is? What it might look like?”
The Skull shrugged. “No, but I’m confident we’ll find out shortly. If the first two were any indication, I trust it will not disappoint.”
16
IF I WERE AS CALLOUS AS THE STARS, I’D FLIP A COIN. BUT THAT WOULD BE THE SAME AS NOT DECIDING AT ALL.
EVERYTHING in Dede Clayton’s field of vision was boring: the dark room, the murky underwater images on her insanely expensive monitor, even the incessant droning that dribbled artlessly from her $20,000 speakers.
“Once the Japanese decimated the U.S. fleet at Pearl Harbor, the crucial oil shipments in the Gulf of Mexico were easily within reach of the new Nazi subs.”
Once, Dede had been a well-paid oceanographer, but worsening asthma forced her to abandon the heady rush of deep-sea diving. Now she was stuck at home, logging shots as they streamed live from a Remotely Operated Vehicle hundreds of miles away, and some 5,000 feet below, off Florida’s western coast.
It wasn’t unusual to log on the fly like this, but listening to a guide track was certainly different. The deadline was so tight, a teen PA on the ship had recorded the rough narrative to give her the sense of the timing they wanted.
“On July 30, 1942, 45 miles east of the Mississippi delta, the S.S. Robert E. Lee was attacked by U-166. A single torpedo sunk the ship in about 15 minutes, killing 25.”
Mostly, she found it a distraction. The PA could barely pronounce the words. It would all be changed anyway when their has-been actor dubbed the final version before the special aired next week.
But it wasn’t her decision.
Snapping the pull tab on another diet soda, she briefly debated pouring it into her computer. She could tell the producers she’d had some unexpected equipment failure. Too bad she needed the money, even though the gig only paid half her old rate.
“Naval patrol boat PC-586 spotted the periscope and dropped 10 depth charges. The oil slick that surfaced told them what happened to the sub.”
At least the ROV operators could give her something decent to look at. They were paying for her expert eye, but hadn’t even provided a high-res feed. All she could see was murky water occasionally interrupted by vague geometric shapes covered in crud.
“It wasn’t until an archeological survey in 2001 that this wreckage was actually discovered.”
As the voice droned on, she thought: Is that freaking shadow supposed to be the sub? Dear Lord, I hope the real thing looks better. Maybe I should have them keep my name off this.
Finally, the camera showed a ragged 10-foot hole in the hull.
The guide track continued. “Is this the breach that spelled the U-boat’s doom?”
The ROV pivoted, trying for a peek inside. But the operator—as if driving a rental car instead of a delicate instrument subject to ocean currents—failed to compensate for the drift. The million-dollar piece of equipment that comprised most of their budget hit the edge of the hole.
The image shook and briefly filled with static.
Amateurs, she thought. Newcomers. Idiots. Wait…
The picture cleared. At first, Dede thought the ROV lights were bouncing off the old sub’s interior, but the dull red glow wasn’t a reflection—it was a source. Something inside the wreck was giving off light.
Her eyesight was perfect, but she squinted at the screen. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”
The light grew—or rather, its source came closer to the lens. It was probably a big fish. Bioluminescence was common among deep-sea creatures. With any luck, they’d stumbled on an interesting cephalopod.
The view briefly returned to the green-gray water, then steadied on the breach. At least the ROV operator had the sense to back up and get out of its way.
None of the animals she knew were cube-shaped. Was it another ROV they neglected to mention? There was a sphere-shaped hollow in the center. Something to bring up samples?
Whatever it was, it was trying to get out. Poorly positioned to clear the uneven breach, the cube hit the ragged, rusty edge. As it tipped out, its details grew clearer, or as clear as the crappy feed allowed. Its color somewhere between silver and brass, it looked new, unlike the wreck’s rotting steel.
There was a triangular indentation on what she assumed was its top. But a cube didn’t necessarily have a top, did it? That could be its side, or even bottom.
There was a red flash, and the screen went blank.The dreadful narration stopped. She tried the microphone. Excited for the first time in two years, she had to think a moment to remember the production assistant’s name.
“Dale? What’s going on?”
Nothing.
The backup Skype line to the salvage ship beeped. Dede nearly broke her mouse clicking the answer button, but no video appeared. The app explained that only audio could be provided. It didn’t say why.
The sound of screams and rushing water emerged from her hybrid electrostatic speakers, their highs and lows flattened by limited bandwidth. Even so, the poor quality of the recorded voice she heard next was obvious. If the words hadn’t been dominating the news for the last 48 hours, Dede never would have made them out:
“Wo ist Kapitän Amerika?”
Then came a horrible crunching, as if the whole ship was collapsing as easily as the aluminum can in her hand.
Despite Dede Clayton’s love of the wide sea and its many, miraculous mysteries, she felt lucky to be stuck at home.
* * *
KADE hadn’t exaggerated about the size of the auxiliary iso-c
hamber. If Rogers didn’t know he was a patient, he’d think he was being subjected to psychological torture. The close gray-metal walls made him feel like he was inside a toaster. Worse, the view from the one-foot-square window consisted of a featureless room and a door. Even the panel by the window that monitored his vitals was frustratingly outside his field of vision.
The isolation part of isolation chamber was sinking in. Nia and Kade were in another lab. Fury was at the helm. Stark was in the cargo bay, trying to ensure that the wrecked Sleepers weren’t still transmitting somehow. Putting on a brave face for himself seemed pointless.
Rogers breathed into his growing discomfort as best he could, but still grimaced at the two-inch video feeds on Kade’s laptop that showed the third Sleeper’s progress. Thank heavens Agent Velez in Signals was earning her keep. She’d snagged the distress call, traced an Internet connection to its West Coast Florida address, and uncovered a frantic 9-1-1 call from a freelance video editor.
As a result, by the time the Sleeper came ashore on Captiva Island, a wide safety zone had been evacuated. That proved critical: Unlike the others, the cube didn’t withhold its attacks. Since making landfall, red beams—some form of proto-laser—shot from its four corners, obliterating anything in its path. On the island, that only meant a beach and a golf course—but it was headed staight for Cape Coral, population 200,000.
The city wasn’t its target. So far, it was only asking for Rogers’ location, like the triangles. Stark insisted it was out of range for whatever data the sphere had broadcast. But how long before it switched tactics and started threatening lives?
And he was stuck in here.
A little image of Fury popped up on the screen, reminding Rogers that he wasn’t as alone as he thought. “Look at the bright side.”
“What bright side? Those hollows match the size and shape of the other Sleepers. I don’t need an engineer to tell me they’re designed to combine, just like the first three I tangled with.”
“Yeah, but we did need engineers to confirm that whatever they were intended to do, the triangles and the sphere are nothing more than junk now. Even Stark’s confirmed that it’d take something with the power of the Cosmic Cube to put them back together. And the fact that this one only has space for two others means this could be the last of them.”
“‘Could,’ Nick. ‘Could.’”
“You got better, I’m all ears.” Fury’s face disappeared.
As he watched the Sleeper’s progress, Steve Rogers felt… What? Drone pilots experienced a bodiless sensation as they stared at their satellite views. If anything, he felt the opposite. Even in the early days when he was physically weaker, he could still attack a threat directly. Knocked down, he could always try again. Now, his body ached to show it still existed.
His fingers gripped the laptop so tightly, it was about to shatter. Only Nia’s appearance outside the small window saved it. Collecting himself, he set the computer aside and rose to greet her.
Her arm was bent at the elbow, as if she was carrying a coat, but there was nothing there. He started to make a quip about the emperor’s new clothes, but then the near-transparent material she held folded in a way that caught the light.
“I hesitate to call this good news,” she said, “but it counts as better news.”
“‘It’ being?”
She held it closer for him to see. “A self-healing polymer that mimics certain properties of Vibranium. It was created in a Wakandan research facility. There are currently only three prototypes. Until recently they were kept under the tightest security my country can provide.
“So it’s…stolen?”
She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Here we enter a gray area. Given the worldwide need, unless and until the process is perfected, T’Challa would rather its origin remain secret. So this membrane doesn’t exist, and you didn’t hear me say any of that.”
Rogers scrunched his face. “Sounds like quite a breakthrough.”
Folding it carefully, she placed it in the secure-transfer drawer. “It is. The membrane is thin enough so you can wear your uniform over it, but it will cover you completely—mouth, eyes, ears. It will filter your exhalations and even reseal over minor wounds, including cuts and gunshots. The only thing you won’t be able to do in it is relieve yourself.”
“No bathroom breaks, then.” Opening his side of the drawer, he pressed the fabric between his fingers. It felt like…nothing. “Even this wouldn’t convince Kade that I should be in combat again, especially after last time.”
She shook her head. “Seeing how the Sleeper ripped through the Helicarrier made Dr. Kade very much aware of the extent of the current threat. If something like that happened again, he knows you’d have to fight. But…he has other reasons for agreeing to a new protocol.”
He looked up. “Such as?”
She turned to the right, toward the screen displaying his vitals. “How are you holding up?”
Brow furrowed, he smiled, wondering where this was headed. “Well, doctor, I’m not going to say it’s been easy.”
“I wouldn’t believe you if you did.” After scanning a moment, she blinked. “Your blood pressure’s up a little. Normally I’d say it’s nothing, but your vitals are known to be rock steady. According to the files, your heart rate is as reliable as the atomic clock in Switzerland.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I’m ever looking for a new job. Are you worried it’s an effect of the virus?”
She eyed the tiny chamber and pursed her lips. “My guess is it’s environmental. But let’s see. I’d like to tell you a story that might help. I was in West Africa, part of a team working in the hot spots during an Ebola outbreak. In one of the stricken villages, I would often help a young teacher. She had the money to flee, but refused to abandon her students. With so many dying, the children often asked why there was no way to help, no cure. She felt obligated to prepare their young minds for the fact that sometimes there is nothing you can do. So she asked the class a question, ‘What would you do if a lion was chasing you?’ One boy, Amad, shot his hand up. ‘I will climb a tree,’ he said. The teacher said, ‘Good, but what if the lion also climbs the tree?’ ‘I will jump in the river and swim,’ he answered. ‘And if the lion also jumps in the water and swims?’ When he hesitated, she thought she was getting the idea across, but he made a face and said, ‘Teacher, are you on my side or the lion’s?’”
When Steve laughed, Nia checked his vitals again. “Ah, you see? I was right. Your blood pressure dropped back to normal. I have a great bedside manner.”
“No disagreement,” he said. “But I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dr. Kade? New protocols?”
“He’s agreed to allow your release under certain extreme situations because of some...decisions that have been made.”
“Decisions?”
Before she could answer, Fury’s voice squawked from the laptop again. “Got some more good news. The second Sleeper only realized it’d been duped when that heat blast knocked out the biometric transmission from the Iron Man suit, right? Well, since this third one apparently can’t detect your baby-blues from all the way overseas, we started power-broadcasting your biometrics, and it’s taking the bait. We’re steering it, even from way over here.”
“Great! Where are we taking it?”
There was an odd pause. “I figured Dr. N’Tomo would’ve told you that by now. She’s there, right?”
Rogers eyed her. “Yep. She was just about to get to that, but why don’t you fill me in?”
“Okay. We’re trying to lead it to the most isolated place there is from sea to shining sea—the Big Empty in southeast Oregon, 24,000 square miles of high desert. If it follows us, and we can’t neutralize it, you and that fancy membrane can have a go with no one around for hundreds of miles.”
He kept looking at Nia. “What am I not getting?”
She shrugged. “Reaching the high desert isn’t only about isolating the Sleeper—it’s about
isolating you.”
Fury piped in. “With the biggest property owner being the government, it’s no surprise S.H.I.E.L.D.’s got a base up there. More an old warehouse, really, but it’ll…uh…suit our purposes. Once the Sleeper threat is nullified, it’s where you’ll be placed in cryogenic suspension.”
Cap blinked and rubbed his temples. “I’d almost forgotten. So what is this, Nick, my last hurrah?”
The colonel bristled. “Don’t be stupid. It doesn’t suit you. Once this Sleeper business blows over, we’ll lick this thing. Stark’s freeing up some new quantum computers that’ll drop the calculation time by a factor of 10, and we’ve got Richards, Xavier, and Banner on tap to…”
Fury’s voice seemed to fade as Rogers realized how soon he would be yanked from the world again, frozen. From the beginning, reporters, admirers, friends, and acquaintances—seeing him in action, thinking him brave—would ask how he did it. His answer was always the same. I just do.
So when he wondered how others somehow managed to go to their deaths in peace and dignity, he imagined them answering: I just did.
“…with that crowd on it, you know they’ll…” Finally noticing Rogers’ silence, Fury flinched. “I’m… I’m gonna give you a minute.”
“I don’t need a minute.”
“Then I’m gonna give me a minute.” He clicked off.
His gaze drifted over to Nia. She was scanning his vitals again, this time looking worried.
“Blood pressure up again?”
Even her slight smile brought some warmth to the room. “Not so most would notice. I wish I had another joke for you, but I’m not sure it would help.” She put her hand up to the window. “We haven’t known each other long, but if you’d care to share what you’re feeling, I’d be honored.”
He wanted to take her up on the offer, but wasn’t sure how. “I’m no stranger to inevitability, Nia. I’ll do what I have to, accept what I have to, but…”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’m with Amad. If the lion followed me into the water, I’d dive and swim faster.”
Marvel Novels--Captain America Page 11
