by Zack Archer
Everything was perfectly silent and perfectly white.
I blinked and then I saw it.
Daylight.
On the other side of a grid, a gel-like permeable barrier, what looked like the world’s largest membrane. We blasted through and then—
We were completely out of the darkness and soaring over the edge of a cliff on a rust-colored mesa. My eyes roamed back, and I could see that the membrane we’d passed through looked almost like a barrier…a bubble that stretched as far as I could see.
“That’s the Caul,” Aurora said, angling her chin toward the bubble.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a shield. It protects us.”
“From what?”
Before she could answer, the wave sled shuddered, and I held on for dear life as the ground dropped away beneath us.
In seconds, we were flying two hundred feet over a plain of what looked like pumice.
I rubbed my eyes, staring at the trap bottle which was still in my hands, not believing any of it. For a moment I wondered if Harker and Renfro had slipped me something to mess with my mind. We’d been out boozing the night before and who was to say that they didn’t drop something into my drink when I wasn’t looking? Over the sound of the wave sled’s engines, which hummed like a snare drum, I grabbed Aurora’s elbow.
“Okay, real-talk time, lady. What the fuck is going on?”
She glanced back. “Is that any way to talk to the person who just saved your life?”
“You? What about me? I’m the one who put down your boy back there. The weirdo with the red hair. What was his name? Claymation Man?”
“Damnation Man,” she said, correcting me, holding my look. “And there’s not much else to say, as the situation is no different than it was several minutes ago, Quincy.”
“Sure, everything’s the same except for one tiny little detail: it doesn’t look like we’re on Earth anymore!”
“That’s correct,” she said.
“Where are we?”
“As I said before, we’re headed to Fiasco Heights and—”
“Planet…what planet is this?!”
“A small, relatively water-rich, rocky exoplanet in the constellation of Aquarius which is near the Moon of Enoch.”
“Did you just make that up?”
“Would you know the difference if I did?”
“I’m pretty sure this is kidnapping,” I said.
“Nobody forced you to come along,” she replied.
“You literally grabbed my arm and pulled me with you!”
“Fine. At the next stop I’ll let you out,” she said, some heat in her voice.
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Realizing I wasn’t going to be getting any more answers out of Ms. Buns of Steel, I slumped in my seat. I closed my eyes for a moment, grateful that I couldn’t hear any of the annoying background noise that always bothered me.
I stowed the trap bottle near my feet, my eyes wandering to the ground below us which was devoid of foliage, although it was dotted in places by what looked like collections of gigantic, bleached bones.
We flew over a vast forest stretching to the horizon that was full of what looked like gray, upthrust rock. Looking closer, I could tell that they weren’t rocks at all, but the shells of what had once been sequoia-sized trees.
The trunks were the size of skyscrapers, some of them withered, others fire-blackened. I could see the faint outlines of flattened structures between the trees, rusted out machinery, and areas dotted with enormous trenches and craters, which made it resemble the scene of some terrible battle fought long ago. The wind whipped my hair as the wave sled dipped and slalomed between the trees.
Out on the horizon, I spotted a solitary flash of green and then the sparkle of water, what looked like a springhead flowing up out of the pumice.
Aurora monkeyed the wave sled’s controls, piloting us down until we were following the course of a small stream that widened into a river.
The river spooled through a valley that was heavy with bark-bearing trees that grew in vast lowland swamp forests.
Slicing over the forests, we curled around the base of a small mountain, and that’s when I saw it.
The hint of a sprawling skyline.
A cityscape.
A collection of structures unlike anything I’d ever seen back on Earth.
The outline of what I assumed was Fiasco Heights.
8
The first thing I saw was a field of geodesic domes, sparkling like snow globes in the middle of several spits of land which sat at the confluence of two mighty rivers that formed a third. It looked eerily similar to the location of Three Rivers Stadium, which is where the old Pittsburgh Steelers used to play their football games before the NFL was shut down over all the concussion concerns back in the late-2030s.
There was something right in the middle of where the three bodies of water met, a colossal metal construct, a bridge. But as I peered at the bridge, it began to move, shifting, reordering itself. I saw that it had multiple, expandable walkways that extended or retracted to allow foot traffic across it, acting as a kind of mobile superstructure that connected various domes.
Beyond the domes were a collection of dingy skyscrapers that appeared to be a combination of natural and manmade. More specifically, there were a handful of titanic, arch-shaped silver-skinned skyscrapers that had been built in reverse “U” shapes, interspersed with a dozen sixty- or seventy-story buildings that appeared to have been built inside some of the sequoia-sized trees I’d witnessed earlier.
“Why do you call it Fiasco Heights?” I asked.
“Because it’s a place where the extraordinary is ordinary. And it’s the site of one of the largest catastrophes the universe has ever known.”
Before I could ask what that meant, Aurora pointed to the skyscrapers. “Those buildings are known as the Upperworld. For as long as anyone can remember, it functioned as the secure headquarters for Greylock, and the fortress for the Elect, and some of the surviving Elementals.”
“What’s a Greylock?” I asked.
She made a weird kind of gesture over her massive chest, almost like you do when you’re making the sign of the cross. “Greylock was the chief archon of this world. One of the original Aeons, an Elemental, the last of the first, may his name be remembered always. He ruled peacefully for centuries,” she said.
“What happened?”
Aurora’s face fell. “He was murdered three days ago.”
The wave sled slowed and began angling down toward an opening in the side of one of the domes.
“How come we’re not going to the Upperworld?” I asked.
“It’s partially under lockdown, and besides, most of us aren’t allowed there,” Aurora replied. “If the Elect knew where we were, we might be arrested.”
“For what?” I asked.
“Conspiracy to commit what you’d call murder.”
So basically, I’d hitched a ride with a superheroine and flown to some distant world where she, and presumably others, were wanted for possibly knocking off the guy in charge.
Awesome. Just…fucking fantastic.
She thrust out a hand and gestured to the opening in the dome. “Our home is in the notches, the Gullet, the underworld. Keep your head down so they don’t spot you.”
“Who?”
“The Morningstars. The villains. They’re like gods in a way. They have eyes and ears everywhere.”
I dropped low as the wave sled scythed through the opening in the dome. I saw that the dome itself was covered in what looked like solar panels. On the inside of the dome was a seemingly bottomless hole that appeared to have been carved in the coffee-colored rock using the world’s largest spiral-shaped drill-bit.
And down in the hole was the faintest hint of a subterranean city that had been built at the hole’s outer edges. Indeed, there were tunnels, ladders, catwalks, and walkways that branched off in various directions.
> My first thought was that it resembled a much larger version of those underground houses from the first “Star Wars” movie, but then I looked closer and realized it was nothing like that at all.
For starters, the underground metropolis in front of me was sprawling and bathed in a strange iridescent light cast from plants and vegetation.
“You guys turned the plants into street lights,” I said.
Aurora nodded. “Nanobionics. The vegetation is infused with microscopic particles. It gives off energy and light now.”
Beyond the plants there was blinking signage, including physical placards and holographic ones that hovered over antechambers hacked into the rock walls. I saw eating establishments, industrial rooms, sleeping quarters, general purpose stores, and even what looked like a red-light district with an enormous holographic sign that read “Carnival Row.”
“It’s all in English,” I muttered.
“You’re very observant.”
“How come we speak the same language?”
“I speak seventy-six languages,” she replied. “As a citizen of the universe, it’s expected of me. And you?”
I coughed. “Sure, yeah, um well I speak other languages as well, including a little Spanish. Yo nombre Quincy.”
She nodded. “That’s very good.”
I couldn’t tell if she actually knew what I was saying, so I continued. “Muy valiente y pene grande.”
“We’ll see about that,” she replied. “In the meantime, it might help to recognize that we gave you your tongue. Everything that your world has comes from us. Besides, the signage is ever-changing. It intuits your understanding based upon your retina-signature and presents the words in a manner which you can understand.”
“You guys thought of everything.”
“We had to,” she replied. “This city is a kind of galactic port. A trading post for the rest of the universe.”
I looked out and spotted humanoids and all manner of creatures strolling over footways and raised paths. There were men and women intermixing with bipedal aliens, and other exotic things that hopped like kangaroos flew through the air in short bursts like turkeys or walked on their knuckles like apes.
Some of the aliens were vaguely human in form, while others looked like they’d been plucked out of a graphic novel or a horror movie. They differed greatly in size and shape. Some of the extraterrestrials had tentacles or whips for arms, while others had bulbous, oversized heads, and still more of them had skulls the size of baseballs atop the muscular bodies of rhinos.
“They all come here for two things,” Aurora said. “To trade in Akash and to experience the pleasures that are unique to this world.”
It was at that moment that I caught a glimpse of the aforementioned pleasures as we curled through a tunnel and moved slowly past a rear section of Carnival Row, where powerful-looking men and women of all ethnicities were drinking, and engaging in games of chance.
Beyond this, down a semi-darkened section of tunnel, was a grotto fed by a waterfall that spewed golden liquid with the consistency of cooking oil over a delegation of men and women who were frolicking in the nude.
My eyes enlarged (along with another part of my anatomy) as two of those gathered, a pair of women who were lean and ripped like fitness models, began fondling each other’s enormous breasts. Swallowing hard, I looked back at Aurora who sported a mischievous smile.
“Still want to go back to your cargo container, Quincy?”
I was speechless, so I just nodded and kept my eyes down.
“Does that excite you?” Aurora asked, bobbing her head at the two nymphs slicked in the golden oil.
“No,” I lied.
She arched an eyebrow. “One of my powers involves the ability to read the minds of men like you. I can tell when someone is lying.”
Crap.
I groped for the words, which stuttered out: “Okay, yeah…yes, so maybe it excites me…a little.”
Aurora grinned hugely. “I was lying. I can’t read minds.”
She laughed, and that’s when I spotted it.
A glint, a shimmer up and off to the right.
Like light bouncing off a diamond.
I threw up a hand and pointed, and that’s when it happened.
Whatever was hiding in the shadows fired a ball of silver energy at us.
9
“PHANTASM!” Aurora shrieked.
In one sudden and swift move, she powered the wave sled sideways while conjuring up a cloud of blue light that enveloped our vehicle as—
BAROOM!
The ball of silver energy slammed into the cloud, shattering like a pane of glass.
“What is it?!” I shouted.
“A semi-invisible assassin!”
Aurora dropped low and gathered up the shards of broken energy, formed them into a ball that she refashioned into what looked like a spear. She rose and heaved the spear in the direction of the hidden figure before he could fire again.
The spear detonated against the far wall, showering the hidden figure in dust and debris that revealed his presence to us.
I saw the outline of a blond-haired, whippet-thin man who clutched a golden knife the size of a lawnmower blade.
The man rose to his full height and began galloping toward us.
I brought my hands up, but Aurora waved me off.
She was going to take care of the assassin all on her own.
The Phantasm hit the edge of the walkway and went airborne, his mouth peeling back as he swung the knife over his head.
Aurora twirled her hands, the remainder of the blue cloud getting sucked down through her fingertips. Blue smoke jetted from her ears and nose as she brought both arms back.
The Phantasm screamed like an animal at a branding, flying toward us in what seemed like slow motion when—
Aurora smacked her hands together, creating a thunderclap and a shockwave that scythed out, jackhammering into the Phantasm and reversing the villain’s momentum.
The shockwave sent him flying back like a puppet cut from its strings.
The Phantasm pistoned into the faraway wall, his body disintegrating on impact, leaving
a glossy red smear.
“Jesus,” I muttered, heart still in my throat. “Jesus…what just happened?”
Aurora barely batted an eyelash. “Welcome to Fiasco Heights, Quincy.”
“That’s a helluva greeting.”
“And it would never have happened if Greylock was still alive. Once he died, the Morningstars began releasing their brethren from jail, along with their gangs, including the Phantasms. The Phantasms are a lesser order and their power lies in the ability to fashion and use metamaterial cloaks, light-bending suits to sculpt electromagnetic radiation in order to conceal themselves so they can ambush people.”
“But you were able to defeat him.”
“Because my power lies in the ability to harness the energy of the solar winds.”
“Why did he try to kill us?”
“One, that’s what Phantasms do, and two, they probably know you’re here now.”
“Who?”
“The Morningstars and their leader, Big Dread—”
“Big Dread?”
She nodded. “I’m not a huge fan of the name either. Until three days ago, Dread was imprisoned in the bowels of the city.”
“Where’s Big Dread now?”
Her face tightened. “Mostly likely out looking for us.”
Shouts and screams echoed behind us, and given our rude welcome, I figured we needed to haul ass before another assassin came gunning for us. I spotted a small group of men in gunmetal gray singlets with yellow visors over their faces, inspecting the area where the Phantasm had died. They poked at the Phantasm’s remains with long, white rods.
“Fodder,” Aurora said, stealing a look at the men. “Grunts, general purpose thugs and gang members who work for the Morningstars.”
Before the Fodder spotted us, the wave sled sped off, dipping and
dropping, transitioning from the tight confines of the tunnel to the tall ceilings of an atrium.
We flew through the atrium and plunged down into another hole with a sign that was marked “Shuster & Siegel Avenue.” Here, the walls were covered with strange lettering and hand-scrawled murals, what looked like the chalk-drawn face of a sober-looking man in the winter of his years with white hair, beard, and piercing eyes. He looked like some kind of Old Testament prophet.
“Greylock,” Aurora said somberly, gesturing at the man.
I wanted to ask how he’d been murdered, but before I could, we dropped straight down through a hole in the tunnel, whooshing past anterooms and inner corridors.
There were arteries that disappeared laterally into the rock or dropped down at extreme angles. I leaned back, realizing the entire complex was like some multilevel ant colony by way of an underground version of New York City’s Times Square.
“It’s like a forest in a way,” Aurora said, easing back on the wave sled’s controls. “The domes are the trees and the tunnels are the root system. There’s far more under the ground than above it.”
I made sure to stay concealed while peeking over the edge of the wave sled as we hovered and then descended down through the middle of the hole, past other wave sleds that were rising up past us.
In addition to the wave sleds, I was shocked to see some people traveling through translucent tubes or hop-flying short distances up, down, and sideways, seemingly kept aloft with special boots that emitted puffs of blue air at the heels.
“Is everyone like you?” I asked.
She smiled. “Nobody is like me.”
I gestured to some of the people. “How are they flying?”
“Some use ion thrusters,” she said. “Tiny machines which add electrons to xenon and use the resulting reaction as thrust. The others are just blessed with the gift of flight or use the air walkways.”
She pointed to small clusters of people that appeared to be walking in mid-air, following an invisible pathway that curled in all directions, while others were moving horizontally and vertically as if riding inside invisible elevators.
“The entire channel system is filled with compressed air,” Aurora said. “It’s known as Black Chamber and it’s specially formatted and pressurized for transport.”
