“Bradshaw, I presume,” said Shift. “We’d like a word with you.”
CHAPTER 11
Zenith stood in Thorne’s office while the Colonel sat behind his desk. Both men faced a monitor on the wall, which displayed the camera feed from the infirmary. Jim Ellis lay in the bed, connected to wires and tubes running out of his body, and apparently having a restless sleep.
“Is he gonna be okay?” asked Thorne.
“He’s experiencing symptoms of withdrawal,” said Zenith. “Anita is doing what she can for him and Cerberus doctors have examined him. But this is different from anything they’ve seen before.”
“And Miriam Rowe?”
“Bradshaw hasn’t been able to provide us with any leads that would point to her involvement.”
Thorne huffed. “Typical. That woman’s slippery. Should add her to the board of threats at large.” He glanced at the monitor again. “What’s Jim’s prognosis?”
“The drug will be flushed from his system within a few days. But the real question is the cravings,” said Zenith. “This compound is highly addictive, and it seemed that both Anita and Dominic bore witness to that. I worry about what this could mean for Jim’s future. Not only with Cerberus or our team, but for himself.”
Thorne’s computer beeped, indicating an incoming call. He looked at the monitor and saw who the caller was. “It’s Zukov. Could you give me a minute?”
“Certainly. I’ll go check on Jim.” Zenith tipped his head and showed himself out of Thorne’s office.
Thorne answered the call and the monitor filled with Zukov’s face. “Got anything for me?” asked Thorne.
“Nothing substantial, I’m afraid,” said Zukov. “We’ve tried to trace the source of the drug, but haven’t found any solid link with Proximo Labs or Miriam Rowe. And Bradshaw’s word isn’t enough to go on.”
“What about those documents we uncovered?”
“We looked into them. Given that they’re all linked to Callus, who’s already a fugitive, it just goes on the list of crimes he committed. But there’s no evidence that Proximo went beyond initial research on the Khagan. I’m sorry to say, Leonard, but we have nothing to go on.”
Thorne sighed and leaned back in his chair. This all connected back to Joseph Ramsey, the Secretary of State and the Red Fist’s mole inside the United States government. It was Ramsey who tried to have Thorne killed in order to appoint Callus as the Director of Cerberus. And though Callus had been overthrown, he was still at large.
Thorne had tried to appeal directly to President Lawson, who acknowledged there was some speculation as to Ramsey’s actions. But beyond watching him closely, Lawson had done nothing more to make a move against Ramsey.
The only thing they could do right now was monitor the man closely. There was a plan in motion, Thorne knew that for certain.
***
Miriam Rowe exited the elevator into the parking garage of Proximo Labs. At this late hour, the garage was almost completely empty. She walked through the empty structure, her heels clicking on the asphalt and echoing throughout the area.
Before she could reach her car, she heard the sound of an engine. Another car came around the corner, a limousine, and it rolled to a stop so she was facing the rear passenger door. The tinted window rolled down and she looked into the face of Joseph Ramsey.
“Dr. Rowe, could I have a moment of your time?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Ramsey opened the door for her and slid across the seat to make room for her. Rowe climbed into the vehicle and shut the door, crossing her legs.
“Go on,” said Ramsey, a signal to the driver. As the car began to move, Ramsey pressed a switch on the roof, closing the soundproof divider between the driver and them,
“We have to pull back from the trials for now,” said Rowe. “Cerberus is sniffing down every lead they can find.”
“Unacceptable,” said Ramsey.
Rowe looked at him in annoyance. “This is serious, Joseph. If they find out what we’ve been up to it could mean our entire operation is finished before it’s even started.”
“We’ve had to revise our plans several times now, Miriam, ever since the Khagan’s defeat. Cerberus was supposed to ensure the dissolution of Vanguard, but Thorne and his little team have proven to be—”
“A thorn in your side?” asked Miriam with a smirk.
“Don’t get cute with me,” said Ramsey. “They’re like cockroaches. Instead of Cerberus removing them from the board, now they’re working together. The Exemplar’s upcoming trial will also be a media circus.”
“What’s the rush behind this? We’ve spent years biding our time. The Khagan was foolish to take the Olympus, it decimated our numbers.”
“The rush is this.” Ramsey took out his phone and unlocked the screen, holding it up so Rowe could see the photograph of a woman with orange skin and yellow braids.
“That special who attacked the White House?”
“She’s not a special, she’s an alien. The same species as the ones that crashed in Roswell. An invasion is coming, Miriam.”
“And you think this drug will be able to stop it?”
“It’s the only hope we have. That’s why we need to not only rebuild the Red Fist, but we have to restore the Khagan to his former glory.”
“The Khagan has been in a coma ever since Olympus. We’ve tried everything.”
“Then keep trying!” Ramsey glared at her. “These aliens, they possess the special gene as well. The specials could very well be how the invasion begins. There could be millions of sleeper agents on the planet at this very moment. The Khagan is our only hope, so see to it that he is restored. And soon.”
The car came to a stop. Rowe looked out the tinted window and saw they were back inside the garage, right near her parking spot. She turned to look at Ramsey once more.
“I understand that you believe in him,” she said. “But he’s not a god. He’s just a man. And if this threat is as dire as you say, then we can’t waste time trying to bring back a man who possibly can’t be brought back. We need to begin marshaling our defenses.”
She opened the door and climbed out. Once she closed the door behind her, the limousine pulled away.
EPILOGUE
Waves of distortion occurred in the air. The dumpster in the alley rumbled as a magnetic force began tugging at it, trying to attract it to the distortion. An orb of light appeared in the center of the distortion, with electricity arcing out from the center.
The orb became larger and larger and the light intensified to an almost blinding degree. A silhouette appeared from the center and the light began dimming, shrinking back down until it vanished completely with a loud boom.
The armored figure looked around the alley and examined his hands. He had a visor across his eyes and he raised his arm to his face. From the gauntlet he wore, a holographic display was projected. It displayed the current date and he smiled then laughed in praise.
“It worked! It really worked!”
Chronos had made it to the proper era. After his trials in the apocalyptic future, he now had the opportunity to make things right. Now he could—
He stopped. Chronos looked at the display again, then deactivated it. He had trouble recalling what exactly was his mission here in this time.
In the past—or the future, depending on one’s perspective—Chronos was accompanied by the Progenitor. His robot companion was able to keep his mind straight after each jump through the timestream. But this was the first trip Chronos made on his own. And now, it seemed like the timestream was affecting his own memory.
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, looking around the alley. He stepped out onto the street. Checking the display again, he saw the current time was a little after three in the morning, so the streets were virtually empty.
Chronos saw a newspaper dispenser and approached it, reading the headline. Something about the trial of the Exemplar to begin soon.
The Exempl
ar. He’d heard that name before. Not from his time, but from the era he’d just visited. Although he couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of it.
Chronos struggled to search his memory. He could see flashes of strange beings, called specials. A man/shark hybrid. A woman whose body was like clay. Another woman with talons and wings. An army clad in crimson armor.
He remembered he had to kill someone. That was the only way to prevent the invasion. But who was his target?
The one memory that was clearer than anything else, however, was the image of a V breaking out of a circle. The badge that several of those strange beings wore.
And he remembered a name—Vanguard.
To be continued…
#13 - THE TOMORROW MAN
CHAPTER 1
Across the far reaches of the galaxy, a warship moved through the stars, with smaller ships flanking it. The light from one of the nearby suns reflected off the black, metallic surface of the hull. Past the long window stretched across the curved bow was a very active bridge.
The bridge was split into two levels, with the main one a bustle of activity. Humanoid beings with orange skin and bright yellow hair moved about to perform the daily duties, dressed in black and gold, form-fitting suits. Just above that level stood a commanding officer in armor at the railing, looking out over his charges.
“General M’Lak!”
He turned and the lower-ranking officer saluted him, patting his right fist against his left pectoral and bowing deep. M’Lak returned the salute, but his bow was more like a tip of his head. In the Kotharian culture, the depth of the bow depended on the difference in station between the two. And as general, there were few people M’Lak bowed deeply to.
“Lieutenant H’Lor,” said M’Lak. “You have something for me?”
“Yes sir, if you would follow me to the war room?”
M’Lak nodded and H’Lor led him from the bridge and down the corridor. They came to a closed door that opened on approach and descended a staircase to a circular platform. The rest of the room was dark but after H’Lor entered some commands on the keyboard, holographic lights surrounded them in the round chamber.
A three-dimensional projection of a blue and green planet appeared between them. Bright lights dotted the green masses on the planet.
“This is the human population of Earth,” said H’Lor. “There are around seven billion of them existing on this planet.”
“Seven billion? On one planet?” asked M’Lak.
H’Lor nodded. “Yes. And all of them have signs of the Chaknaar in their system. But it only seems active in less than one percent of the population. Of that number, though, they exhibit some truly drastic differences from us.”
“What do you mean?”
H’Lor went to the console and entered in some commands. The image of the Earth vanished and instead, holographic screens appeared all around them. They showed footage from Earth of different humans displaying a variety of powers and abilities.
“This is the footage we obtained from Captain J’Karra’s transmission,” said H’Lor. “The transmission was incomplete and it appears to have been damaged in transit. But from what we can see, the Chaknaar has effected them in a manner that’s quite different from how it affects us Kotharians.”
“How’s this possible?”
“Even among the same species, Earth creatures appear to have genetic differences that could account for why so few develop any abilities. And why those who do develop quite differently.”
M’Lak rubbed his chin as he studied the footage. He saw a man in white and blue battling a woman in white and red. A man made of energy fighting a man with metallic skin. A humanoid man-beast of some kind attacking a woman dressed from head to toe in white, who kept him at bay with the power of wind. And he saw footage of J’Karra fighting an entire group of these Earthlings.
There were many more feeds. But one consistent factor was the presence of a group of these superhumans. M’Lak watched them carefully and pointed at some of the screens.
“These individuals, do we have any information on them?”
H’Lor shook his head. “I’m afraid not, General. There are some references to them, but that could be the part of the transmission that was lost.”
“I believe we’re looking at Earth’s defenders, Lieutenant,” said M’Lak. “These are the individuals we must defeat if we’re going to bring this planet under our control.”
“Within the Captain’s message, we also discovered data she sent about a scouting mission for Earth decades ago,” said H’Lor. “I checked the archives, there was indeed a scout sent to that system. They vanished, never heard from again. Presumed dead.”
“And J’Karra believes Earth is responsible?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good, then we have cause to prepare the invasion. Return to the bridge, instruct the crew to prepare to make the jump to light-speed.”
“By your leave, General.” H’Lor saluted and bowed before leaving the chamber.
M’Lak went to the console and entered some commands. The holograms vanished and the room darkened considerably. He knelt down in the center of the platform, his fists resting on the ground by his knees and bowed his head with closed eyes.
“My Matriarch, I am but a humble servant ready to receive your word.”
A series of holographic projections appeared around M’Lak, each one dressed from head to toe in robes that concealed their entire body. These were the priests who communicated on behalf of the Matriarch, the ruler of the Kotharian empire.
“The Matriarch has passed the word through us, General M’Lak,” said one of the priests. “You may rise.”
M’Lak stood upright with his legs together, tilting his chin towards the ceiling and clasping his hands behind his back.
“We are preparing to make the jump to light-speed,” he said. “Within a short time, we shall be within striking distance of Earth.”
“And the information sent by Captain J’Karra?”
“Incomplete, but it is enough to give us an idea of what sort of opposition we will face,” said M’Lak. “The primary foes are a group of Chaknaar-enhanced humans who appear to act as the planet’s defenders. They will provide the strongest resistance.”
“And the humans’ potential to wage war?”
“Almost catastrophically single-minded,” said M’Lak. “They use weapons that could very well end their entire existence. These humans are a suicidal race. But the benefit is they do not seem to possess any long-distance space travel capabilities. So any threat to the empire is minimal at best.”
“Very good, General. The Matriarch has given the command. Go forth and conquer, in the name of Kothar. The humans will learn what it means to steal from us.”
***
The man called Chronos was born in slavery. At a time when the Kotharians had conquered the planet and kept humans alive as a labor force. He remembered the camps. Remembered the back-breaking work they had to conduct.
He had no name, just a number. That number was the only identity any of the humans in the camps were ever allowed to have. And the number was…
It was…
He couldn’t remember the number. But he remembered escaping the camp. Remembered being inducted into the resistance. And with the help of technology they stole, he and his companion were sent on a mission into the past.
He remembered the moon. Remembered his friend releasing the energy into Earth’s atmosphere. But why couldn’t he remember that man’s name?
Then he was in the future. No, not his future. It was the past. Things were different, yet somehow similar. Something went wrong. He was successful and yet he failed.
Chronos screamed and gripped his head. He sat in an alley, struggling to make sense of his memories.
“Come on…” he muttered to himself. “Get it together…”
Why couldn’t he remember? What was this flood of images he saw in his mind?
“You must know something b
efore we begin. There is no telling what sort of effect chronal disruption will have on the human mind.”
Who told him that? What did it mean?
Another image came through his mind. He remembered standing in a room, facing a man with a thin mustache whose body was paralyzed and encased in metal. The man’s eyes had a strange, psychedelic color to them as he spoke.
“Chronos, this is a message implanted in your memory, to be triggered upon arrival. It is up to you to stop the Kotharian invasion, you are the only one who can hope to succeed. But in order to do that, someone has to die—a key player in the pending apocalypse. A Kotharian warrior named J’Karra.
“In this period, she is being held in a prison called the Island. It is a ship that is constantly on the move to make escape more difficult. To locate the Island, you’ll need to be able to track its movements. The only way you can acquire this information is from Vanguard. The coordinates of Atlas, their base of operations, have been implanted in your mind. Go there, download the information you need, and stop J’Karra from destroying the world.”
The memory ended there. Chronos slowly stood from the cold asphalt. He held his arm in front of him and entered a few commands on his gauntlet. A holographic map was projected by his visor into his retina and he could see the distance he needed to travel from his current location to reach Atlas in the Adirondacks.
Armor components on his legs moved down, forming a platform beneath his feet, a platform that was able to levitate above the ground. He rose up between the two buildings, and once he had a clear shot, he flew off into the distance.
The name the old man told him—Vanguard. It was familiar, somehow. He couldn’t quite determine why. But he had a feeling he could trust the memory.
CHAPTER 2
“Oh come on!” cried Koji Asano, throwing down the video game controller. On the large screen television set, he watched as his character’s body lay on the ground, its head held by his opponent.
Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure Page 70
