“Dr. pHinn?” Damien knocked on the hard alloy doorframe, then swiftly withdrew his hand. Small things that had never bothered him before now frequently caused small twinges of pain. The lab assistant resisted the impulse to put the knuckles in his mouth. It didn’t hurt that bad, and what was he, a little kid? Rapping on the Plexiglas of an experiment cabinet Damien called out again.
“Dr. pHinn, are you in here?” He knew the doctor had to be around. As paranoid as the doctor was Damien knew he would never have left the lab door unlocked, especially with so many on-going projects. Finally he peered into his supervisor’s office. pHinneas was hard at work beating Metroid II for the umpteenth time, accompanied by the strains of music vaguely familiar coming from his stereo.
Before disturbing the doctor Damien tried to identify the music—finally decided that it was Hans Zimmer’s score to Pirates of the Caribbean. No wait, it was somebody named Klaus that scored the movie, wasn’t it? And this music didn’t sound exactly like the CD Damien had bought. It couldn’t be from the sequel, could it? No, that wasn’t due out until next summer. Curious now, Damien tapped Dr. pHinn on his shoulder.
Without missing a beat pHinn killed a Gamma Metroid, flipped off his earphones, and swiveled in his easy chair. “How fares the brave explorer?”
“Well enough. Dr. Framen gave me a clean bill of health. I don’t have to report for check-ups any more.”
“Good, good. Did you bring that sample I asked for?”
“Of course. But first,” the assistant paused with the vial halfway out of his pocket. “Where is that music from?”
“Q L—I mean Quentin Larento, an old friend of mine. He conducts the Mammoth City Symphony.”
“Oh,” Damien commented, extending the requested biological sample. “It sounded sorta like Pirates of the Caribbean to me.”
“Ah, yes, it does at that,” Dr. pHinn replied shortly, clearly eager to drop the issue. “Well my boy, we should get back to work. I have some new samples over here we need to test.”
“Certainly Brain” Damien wisecracked. “Ready to take over the world!”
“So you’re thinking what I’m thinking?” pHinneas continued without waiting for a reply. “Very good, I do so enjoy CSI. Their machines are science fiction everywhere but this lab.”
“My boy, did you see today’s newspaper?” Dr pHinn asked while staring through a tank full of three-legged frogs. Such an abrupt change of flow within a conversation was not exactly unusual for the good doctor.
Damien almost replied “which one” before remembering for the umpteenth time that officially there was only one newspaper in Elfaeran Base. The Faeran Times, usually called the Fairy, consisted of official base news and stories culled from the AP and Reuters wires. It was printed daily and faithfully recycled, just like a “regular” newspaper, sans advertising, but heavy on editorials. “Um, no,” he finally admitted.
pHinneas rummaged around his desk for a moment then tossed a roll of newsprint at Damien. The assistant unrolled the package to see a headline scream at him.
“EXPLOSION IN GREY BARRACKS!!!”
Security Director Among Dead
“When did this happen?”
“Last night. Well, it was staged last night.”
“Staged?”
“Of course. They said it was an accident in a depressurization experiment, but those are always done in the Red Zone. And Director Rasmussen? I happen to know that he was missing in Sector 17 last week, not last night in the barracks.”
* * *
Five minutes out of Daze Springs Marcia was lost. She knew that she could simply transform and fly ahead, but she didn’t really want to leave her car in the middle of nowhere. Thanks to two X chromosomes Marcia had no objections to asking for directions, but she generally figured that it made more sense to ask a person than a stalk of corn. It wasn’t her idea to be out here anyway, but she knew she had to take part of the blame—it had been her decision to go through with the idea.
While Dennis and Carry had escaped, M’Jenta and Darth Onion had indeed discussed a truce. Onion at first tried to insist that M’Jenta leave Mammoth City entirely. He had quickly given up on this idea when she burned his chessboard before he could make her cry. After that false start the two villains had settled down to business.
Since she couldn’t hurt him directly and didn’t look forward to a perpetual Mexican standoff, M’Jenta had agreed to listen to Onion further. Darth Onion had proposed that M’Jenta begin by respecting his sphere of influence with his gangs. Marcia remembered M’Jenta snorting in derision as she wondered how that could possibly benefit her. They had continued on for several minutes until M’Jenta proposed that a door be opened to allow cool air into the now stuffy area of the warehouse they occupied. Onion had paused for so long that M’Jenta had suspected him of playing possum or preparing another attack.
Finally the villain had stirred and M’Jenta had heard the grin creasing his face as he spoke.
“Secretary of State—“
Impatient, M’Jenta cut him off. “Coli—no, Condoleezza Rice, right?”
“No, 1899. John Hay. Bah, never mind! Only a historian would understand.” Thinking that her anonymity might continue to prove useful, M’Jenta bit her tongue as Onion explained the turn of the (last) century American position on China.
“It was called the Open Door policy and was meant to ensure that European spheres of influence within China retained Chinese sovereignty (in name at least) and open access to other western powers. America was new come to the Far East with her Philippine colonies and didn’t want to be left out of the riches of Chinese trade.
“I propose that we divide Mammoth City between the two of us, but perhaps we can leave some for the police.” He laughed before continuing. “Obviously it would be exhausting for us to hold actual fiefs against all comers, besides if we did I’m sure the federal government would eventually try to step in. However, we could definitely influence matters behind the scenes if we don’t have to compete…” Onion trailed off suggestively.
After two hours of poring over detailed maps of the city (previously liberated from the city planning office) the two villains finally parted. They were not friends, allies, or even close, but they weren’t trying to kill each other. They might be plotting how they could break the alliance to their own best advantage some time in the future—but they weren’t actively killing each other. Yet.
After several more miles of reminiscing Marcia finally saw a mud-splattered sign at the side of the road, almost hidden by foliage. It read “A bl Farm” above an arrow pointing down a narrow gravel drive. “Finally!” Marcia exclaimed, figuring that for a while at least she wouldn’t be as bored as she had been in most of her junior college classes. Other people talked about underwater basket weaving as if it were a joke with no basis in fact—they could never understand. Perhaps though the little girl in the yard could help.
Marcia rolled down her window as her car came to a stop. “Excuse me, are your parents around? I’m afraid that I’m lost.”
The girl looked up from where she was playing with a small pig and nodded. She swiftly disappeared behind a row of ferns and emerged a moment later with a man in overalls. In fact, and Marcia couldn’t believe it at first, he had an actual corncob pipe clenched in his teeth.
“Can I help you miss? My daughter says that you’re lost.”
“Yes, thank you. I need to get to Twin Peaks. I attended Peters Community and they’re having a get together this week. The only problem is that I’ve only ever been there on the school bus, so…”
The farmer chuckled and grinned knowingly. “Aye Miss, I’ve heard that afore. Head back out of here, turning left. When you pass the third cow turn right through the open gate. Once across the pasture you’ll see Kyle’s Lane. From there you’ll turn right and the road will dead end into Route 23.”
“Is there a route that doesn’t go through a pasture?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind another ten miles and six turns?”
With a groan Marcia repeated the directions twice, thanked the farmer, and drove off down the dusty lane.
* * *
Damien entered the laboratory promptly at eight, for some reason certain that he had overslept. Instead he found the entire suite of rooms deserted. In all his months working with the good doctor Damien had never arrived at the lab before pHinneas Q. Dinglethorpe. Even if this was unprecedented Damien still had experiments to conduct and data to collect. He was especially looking forward to watching blue tomatoes grow.
Damien had just begun to turn on the computers that would monitor the progress of tomato growth when Dr. pHinn breezed in through the main doors.
“Damien, I didn’t expect you to be here. Didn’t you receive my message?”
“No, sir.” Damien focused on the computers to activate their software links to the scanning devices then turned back to the doctor. “What was it about, sir?”
“Today. Um, you didn’t need to come in today.”
“What?” Damien’s hands continued to operate the manipulators controlling the planting of tomato seeds. He continued on autopilot as the doctor explained.
“Do you know how I started out here at the base?”
“Uh, actually no, I don’t think you ever told me Dr. pHinn. I just assumed that you started out as a lab rat sometime in the dinosaur age.”
The doctor laughed. “Not quite that far back. I started out as a security guard working in the science sector—that would be Sector 13 now. It was, actually come to think of it I don’t remember what year it was, but that doesn’t really matter anyway. I spent a couple years patrolling corridors and generally watching many of the experiments that were being conducted. In those days there weren’t quite as many private laboratories so we really had the cream of the crop of scientists here—except that we were more top secret than the Manhattan project. Finally I approached my supervisor and asked him if it would be acceptable if I snuck to the surface and took some science classes at Peters Community College.”
“Peters?” Damien interrupted. “Where is that? I didn’t know anything was near to the base.”
“There are many things you don’t know. I think I showed you the valley side of the base when you first came here—there are some spectacular views from the balconies concealed in the cliffs—but most people don’t ever get to see any more than that. The eastern sectors of the base actually now go under some populated areas. They are remarkably low density, but still populated. Heck, the tunnels in Sector Omega are under the town of Twin Peaks. Perhaps you noticed how the ceilings are lower? After some citizens in the town started complaining of sounds in their basements the decision was made to heavily soundproof that area—and with people already wary it wasn’t possible to use digging equipment to enlarge the tunnels before the soundproofing was added. Anyway, to cut a long story shorter Peters Community is located inside of Twin Peaks. I think there might even be a tunnel up to one of the science laboratories where a former Elfaeranite works, but none of that was around in my day.
“Occasionally we peons were allowed up to Twin Peaks in remarkably small numbers on ‘vacation.’ On one trip I’d noticed Peters, then recently built by Harold Peters, millionaire.” The doctor paused in reflection. “He might actually have been one of the first billionaires. He was a real-life Jed Clampett and made it his mission to improve the town of Twin Peaks. He did build the college and name it after himself, but he never could attract many people to the town. It might have had something to do with base agents; I’m not really at liberty to say.
“Well, my director eventually approved the request and two years later I graduated with my associate of science degree. Then I had to fight for another year before they would let me transfer to Yale. I had to promise to return, but they let me go long enough to complete my bachelor’s degree and my doctorate. I even had time to put in a three year internship at the CIA before coming back here. I bumped back and forth between the security and science directorates until I ended up in this lab five years ago.
“As of last night I’ve been offered the Security Directorship to replace Rasmussen. I have enjoyed working with you Damien, but I really feel it is time to get back to Security, and I cannot give up this opportunity. You know how often I have groused and complained about the lack of security around here—this is finally my chance to do something substantial about it. However you needn’t worry about the lab. Dr. Moody will be coming in to take my place—though he may want to restructure some of the existing experiments. I hear he favors orange tomatoes more than blue.”
Damien’s mind spun for a moment as he digested all of the information the doctor had thrown at him. He couldn’t understand orange tomatoes—blue made sense, but orange?? Then the rest of what the doctor said hit him. “Wait, Dr. Moody? Isn’t he, well…”
“Yes, he is a bit touched, but aren’t we all to work here?” Dr. pHinn laughed.
* * *
“Reception to Dr. Gordon. Dr. Gordon please call three five zero. Call three five zero.”
Susan waited for two minutes then reached for her phone to page her employer again. Just as her fingers closed around the handset the phone rang. With a start she jerked her hand back until her mind processed the fact that line one was lit—extension 350. She shook her head, exasperated with her short nerves. Susan wasn’t sure why, but lately she had been uneasy while at work.
“Dr. Gordon?”
“Yes Miss Christianson, what is it? I’m a little busy down here right now with the current exercise.”
Susan could hear many voices behind the doctor. It was obvious that he was calling from his command center. “Sir, I just need to remind you that you need to call Mr. Underhill in twenty minutes.”
“Yes, yes—wait! Did you say twenty? Blast! We won’t be done down here for another forty, minimum!” Dr. Gordon took a deep breath clearly audible over the phone line. “Okay, I need you to do something for me—something very important.”
“Of course sir.” Susan pulled a pad of paper out of her desk drawer and reached for a pencil.
“At the time of my appointment with…Mr. Underhill, go to my computer. Open the folder on my desktop entitled Cirith Ungol. Run the program named Operation Sharkey. After that leave the computer, and in fact you can go home early. Did you understand all of that?”
“Yes sir. I will get it done.”
“Thank you Miss Christianson. Now I must run.” Just before her employer hung up his phone Susan thought she heard a scream.
* * *
Marcia drove into Twin Peaks in a foul mood. The farmer’s directions had been quite good, but after she arrived at the highway the government signs hadn’t been as helpful. It was after sunset by the time Marcia passed the town limits. She almost passed up the first lodging sign she saw before she remembered that it probably was the only. The Shepherd’s Rest didn’t look like much, but on second thought the collection of rustic log cabins looked quite welcome after a day in her small car. Thomas, the clerk at the front desk was happy to inform Marcia that yes they had several vacancies and quickly assigned her to Room B in the Maple Grove cabin.
Once her bags were inside the room Marcia flopped down on the bed and thought seriously about just falling asleep right then and there. Then her stomach growled and she realized she might fall asleep, but she would surely wake back up quite hungry in a few hours. With another groan she half-heartedly started to throw a few angry words in the direction of Mammoth City. The day after M’Jenta’s encounter with Darth Onion, Professor Pettigrew had still been ignorant of the identity of his nemesis. She decided that she would exploit the professor’s ignorance as long as it was useful—since it surely wouldn’t last very long. So when the professor suggested that she travel to Twin Peaks to investigate if there was any gang activity in the area she acquiesced.
The professor hadn’t mentioned much about his gang activities prior to the latest meeting, but at that time he had gone into great detail as he ranted and raged about M’Jenta and the monkey wrench that she had thrown into his plans. He revealed that he was desperate to insure that his plans succeed and was looking to expand his operations as far as possible. He had even been reading the Daze Springs newspaper and was almost as upset at all the reports of the local monster. He’d connected the dots better than the newspaper editor and was worried that such a monster might actually be possible competition. Surely the fact that it hasn’t been caught indicated intelligence, and it certainly wasn’t acting like a law abiding citizen might.
Since the evil professor had decided that penetrating Daze Springs had the potential to be quite difficult he had decided to concentrate on other communities in the vicinity of Mammoth City instead. He had already sent one of his top henchmen into Westwood and had decided to send Marcia to Twin Peaks, knowing that she had attended Peters Community for a year.
She would walk somewhere to dinner, Marcia suddenly decided. Though she had tried to wipe most of her memories of the town out of her mind, some had lingered. She remembered that every place worth visiting was within walking distance of Main Street and she didn’t think that the cabins were too far from Main Street. Even if they were she could just fly if she absolutely had to—she wasn’t too worried about being mugged.
* * *
Damien wandered back to his room. It hadn’t taken long to help Dr. pHinn pack his few personal items, and after that the doctor had closed down the lab. He assured Damien that he would instruct Dr. Moody to contact him when the lab was open again, which would surely happen within the week or so. In the meantime he assured Damien that he could still visit him in his new position; in fact, the doctor encouraged Damien to visit, explaining that he really appreciated the young man’s insight.
Once he closed his door Damien slouched down in his recliner and thought about turning on his television before noticing that the remote was again lost. He didn’t have enough energy left to search for the remote, let alone turn the TV on manually. Instead he picked up his cordless phone and dialed a familiar number from memory, though it was one that he had not called in months.
“The number you are trying to reach is not in service. Please hang up and try again.”
Damien laughed, thinking back to his time in college and the time that Hegel had recorded that very message onto his voicemail.
“Very funny Hegel, now pick—”
“The number you are trying to reach is not in service. Please hang up and try again.”
Damien reflected, perhaps it wasn’t a message. The number might actually be out of service, though he couldn’t think why. Actually though, when he reflected he remembered that he hadn’t talked to Hegel since right before his friend had left for Yellowstone. For some reason in the many weeks since he hadn’t talked or communicated with Hegel, though it wasn’t as though he’d been busy learning about a new superpower or anything like that.
“The number you are trying to reach—” Damien hung up the phone before the message could repeat itself again. After ransacking his memory for several minutes he remembered that Hegel Jeremiah had a universal voicemail account. Although he had to actually extend his left arm to pick up his PDA Damien though the effort well rewarded several minutes later when he unearthed the number he was searching for.
“This is Hegel. You must be special because I don’t give this number to everybody. Leave me a good message or else!”
Damien quickly left his number, or rather the ordinary looking number that the Elfaeran tap into the phone system would route to his quarters even faster than most phones connected.
What seemed like a mere minute after he hung up the phone Damien was startled awake by the harsh ring that signaled an outside line.
“Hello?”
“Hah, you sound like you just woke up in one of Dr. Moray’s history classes.”
“Very funny Hegel, I never fell asleep in one of his classes.”
“No? Well you should have. If I had to listen to another lecture on the effects of medieval monasticism I don’t know what I’d do. But enough of that, what is happening old friend?”
“Where are you Hegel?”
“I’m at home, where else would I be Damien?”
“I tried calling you there but the line was disconnected.”
“Eh? Oh you must mean my old apartment, but I moved out weeks ago. Don’t you remember?”
“No I don’t. You never told me you were moving.”
“I was sure that I had. Strange… Well I’m now living in a tiny town quite a way north of Mammoth City called Twin Peaks.”
Had Damien been drinking anything he was sure he would have spewed it hallway across the room. As it was his next words came out slightly strangled. “What are you doing there?”
“Teaching at the junior college actually. I’m sure I told you that I finished my math degree; well I want another masters degree before I go for my doctorate. This school, Peters Community just focuses on the physical and social sciences, except for the one thing that it is famous for—forestry. Actually it is their sole masters program.”
“Ah, that would make it a perfect fit,” Damien interjected.
“Definitely. I was already considering applying when I met the dean on my last Yellowstone backpacking trip. He ended up offering me a job teaching math and I just couldn’t say no. So what are you up to Damien?”
“Still at the same lab, but my supervisor was just reassigned; I’m not sure who I’ll be working with now. You know though, I suppose I could get a couple days off. How about I come up to Twin Peaks for old times sake?”
“That sounds great—but we’re not old yet!” Hegel laughed. “So your lab is down in Mammoth City, right?”
Damien hated to lie, but he knew there was no chance he could tell the truth. No, I’m only about a mile away from you, several hundred feet down. “Yes, but my car is in the shop. I’ve been using the city buses to get to work; do any busses run up to Twin Peaks?”
“Actually there are a couple—two or three a week if I remember. They all run on Wednesday and Saturday.”
“That sounds good. I’ll give you a call when I decide on a day.”
“Perfect. Hey, I hate to cut you off but I need to get back to grading papers.”
“No problem. I understand. Bye.”
“Later, Damien.”
As soon as he heard a dial tone Damien dialed a cell he’d long ago memorized. “Dr. pHinn it is Damien. Something came up; can I come down to your new office? Thanks, I’ll be there in twenty.”
* * *
Jeff leaned back against the headboard of his bed. With only two hotels in town he hadn’t dared to check into either; instead he had found, after extensive searching, a small studio apartment available to rent.
The first two days he spent shopping—furniture, transportation and a computer were all critical to his continued campaign against Q Lab. The car and furniture were all rather nondescript but he had spared no expense on his new laptop. The only hardware he missed was a hybrid hard drive. He read that public companies had just finished prototypes but didn’t expect to see commercial production for at least another year. They had had their own version of the drives in Q Lab for four months already, running flawlessly with their own custom operating system. It was that versatile OS that Jeff missed the most, but he might be able to get a copy—if he played his cards right.
If all had gone according to plan Dr. Gordon would have unleashed Operation Sharkey several hours before. Utilizing the doctor’s secure connection with Q Lab via Xanga’s satellite the program would use Jeff’s knowledge of unexpired internal codes to break into Q Lab’s most secure computers. It was possible codes had been changed, but Jeff thought this was extremely unlikely given Nightrider’s arrogance.
The first stage of Sharkey included a Trojan horse that Jeff could exploit over normal connections at least one time in the future before it was detected. He didn’t ever plan to utilize Dr. Gordon’s connection again, deeming it too great of a security risk—especially with the doctor valuing his privacy as much as he did. The first stage would also release a little present entitled Khan’s Revenge. This program would insinuate itself in the system’s core files and appear to be a surprise that Jeff had set before he was “fired” and equipped with a deadman’s switch. Khan’s Revenge was designed to create mass havoc with the base’s security systems and perhaps allow a henchman of Acidity time to slip into the base itself. The program would not be triggered until Jeff sent an e-mail to a specific account, however, and once it was activated it would scrub away all evidence of its control via remote.
Jeff wasn’t sure exactly when he would activate Khan, only that it would be soon. He knew that he might get only one shot—and even his other Trojan Horse might be discovered in the aftermath—so he wouldn’t move until he was perfectly ready.
The next part of his plan was almost ready, ready to execute at the same time as Khan to cause the most confusion. Unbeknownst to most in the government techies within Elfaeran actually ran many of the federal government’s websites. Mousetail, before he had joined Q Lab, had been head of a team responsible for nearly a dozen websites. Now that he had joined the hallowed ranks he had been cut off from his former team, but he still managed to run four sites. The US Air Force, NASA, CIA, and NSA pages all ran under his exclusive control.
Jeff had been planning a denial of service (DOS) attack against Mousetail for some time as a security test. Once he had been evicted from Q Lab Jeff had decided to use the planned attack as a diversionary method. In order to keep suspicion down he had also targeted Homeland Security, the Navy, and the Patent Office. If all went according to plan Mousetail and his cronies would be so incredibly busy with their websites that they would be kept away from Elfaeran’s central computers until it was far too late to do anything.
Logging into a long dormant and untraceable Gmail account, Jeff read the two messages in the inbox and grinned. The messages confirmed that everything was indeed proceeding exactly as planned. “I love it when a plan comes together,” he quoted. Now he could sit back and watch a couple of horror movies to more enjoyably pass the time. He decided to re-watch The Grudge and Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho after some lengthy contemplation.
* * *
Damien opened the locker and put his Elfaeran ID inside along with the other items that the security guard had warned him were forbidden past the exit door. He was allowed to take his cell phone, but had to remove the security chip that allowed it to work inside of Elfaeran. Though he sure the guard had seen many people leave the base, Damien was nervous Damien. He did his best to not let it show. The lab assistant had never before applied for permission to leave and had actually only left to fly, and those times he had either accidentally avoided security or had Q Lab’s help to do the same. This time though he had a pass personally signed by pHinneas Q. Dinglethorpe, Security Director.
The pass hadn’t been that hard to procure. Dr. pHinn had been quite accommodating and understanding about the entire matter, especially when he discovered that Hegel was teaching at Peters. Not only had he expedited Damien’s leave paperwork, approving it on the spot, but he had helped Damien to concoct a proper cover as well. He arranged for an Elfaeran operative who closely resembled Damien to leave Mammoth City on the earlier bus then leave the bus at its last stop before Twin Peaks. Damien would be transported to that stop in time for the next bus where he would produce the proper ticket and explain that he had missed making it back to the previous bus. Whenever he decided to return to the base the process could be repeated if he decided that he needed the extra level of protection for his cover identity.
None of this was foremost on Damien’s mind as he passed through the last checkpoint and met the waiting 4x4 that would take him to the Alice Springs bus stop. The ride was quite boring as the driver didn’t say anything, subtly rejecting all of Damien’s attempts to start a conversation. Once he arrived he wondered why the bus stop even had a name. It wasn’t anything more than a concrete bench and plastic overhang alongside a deserted dirt road. He had brought a book to amuse himself on the dusty ride into town and he was sure he would need it. Leaning back against the back of the bench he thumbed to the first page and began reading.
The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.
* * *
Damien wasn’t sure why he had worried as he watched the outskirts of Twin Peaks move past. The bus driver had accepted the explanation that he had wandered off into the wilderness and let him onto the bus with only a brief examination of his ticket. The young man wondered if perhaps the driver was convinced that nobody in their right mind would ride his bus anyway so he didn’t worry about passengers that wandered off and missed their bus. He didn’t have much time to ponder as he exited the bus for he almost immediately ran into Hegel and greeted his old friend quite warmly. On the ride back to Hegel’s office at Peters they talked about many things, just two old friends chatting after too long apart. It didn’t matter especially if they talked about math, computers, or even old professors—it just mattered that they were talking.
Hegel opened the passenger door for Damien as the young assistant hadn’t quite yet figured out the trick required on the used truck when a student walked by, almost running into the door. “Sorry Professor McGonagall!” he called out.
At the mention of the name Damien almost did a double-take before he remembered that yes indeed, that was Hegel Jeremiah’s last name, though he had never allowed his friends to use it around him.
“I know,” the young professor sighed. “Every time I hear that I turn around and expect to see Harry Potter standing there. I don’t think it fair for Rowling to steal my name like that, even if Minerva was a professor first.”
Chuckling Damien followed his friend into the nearest building, clutching the backpack that contained the package Rubber Snake had slipped him so many days before. Once inside he darted into Hegel’s office and firmly shut the door behind himself. It was only after he prevailed upon the young professor to close his windows and blinds that Damien dared to speak.
“I ran across and old friend of yours on-line, well actually his girlfriend. His name is Dennis Brown. I recently procured this package and was informed that I would need the services of another nerd when I opened it. You were the first one that I thought of, but you were off in Yellowstone at the time, so my only option was this Dennis Brown character that I found on-line—since I thought I remembered you mentioning that you had known him in his undergraduate program. I’ve sent him several e-mails and I haven’t heard back yet, so I decided that I needed to contact you after all.”
“Actually I knew Dennis while he was in high school, he is only a freshman this year. I tutored him for a while. And now that you mention it I haven’t heard from him in a while. It is strange really, we used to talk all the time. I’ll tell you what, I’ll take a look at this equipment, but I’ll also give Dennis a call. He really is the better one if you’re looking for a hardware expert.”
“Thanks.” Damien breathed a sigh of relief. He had been half afraid that he had had Dennis Brown’s name wrong after all and had been trying to contact a complete stranger.
Before the two young men opened the package Hegel laid his hands on his desk and stared steadily at Damien. “Where did this come from? What can you tell me?”
“Um. Well you don’t quite know everything about the lab I work for. I’m not allowed to talk about what I do there. But someone there gave this to me, someone that has some very neat…toys. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to help me, but I can’t say anything more than that.”
“Okay, I’ll trust you. But please tell me anything you can. Now, what is in here?”
As Damien unwrapped the package Hegel whistled. “Wow I feel like I just stepped into Batman Begins. I don’t know what this stuff is, but it looks better than anything Bruce Wayne has.” For nearly an hour the two examined the contents of the package and actually failed to make heads or tails of most of it—the only thing they could decipher was that one device had a component that required liquid nitrogen.
“I think that I can get some liquid nitrogen from one of the science labs,” Hegel ventured. “We could get it tonight and take this out to test it. I know of an old field where my students say they used to go as highschoolers to goof off. I’m sure that we won’t run into any other adults there, so it would be the perfect place to see what this thing actually does.”
“That sounds perfect to me,” Damien responded. “But what do we do in the meantime?”
“The campus theater is playing a movie.”
“Oh, remember those movie nights in college?” Damien interrupted. He, Hegel, and other friends had often gone to the house of Dr. Hippocrates Noah, biology professor, to watch classic movies.
“Yeah,” Hegel chuckled fondly. “Well here they actually get movies on time—I think it is because this theater is the only one in town. Heck if not for the college I doubt if this town would even exist, so I’m not in the habit of complaining about such strange things. I’ve wanted to see this movie for a while, Mr. and Mrs. Smith with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie—it looks great!”
For a moment Damien was in a quandary, but he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to see the movie again. He had actually already seen it three weeks earlier in Elfaeran when it opened before its normal theatrical release above ground. “It sounds interesting. Any idea what it is about?”
“Yeah, apparently this married couple are actually assassins…”
* * *
Professor Pettigrew hadn’t given Marcia much to go on. All he knew about Twin Peaks was that it was a small town that was unlikely to have any real gang activity. But both of them knew that there were always juvenile delinquents in any community, it was only a matter of ferreting them out. In this case it took Marcia the better part of a day to determine that the local hooligans were extremely tame. However, when up to whatever mischief they got up to they could be found in the field behind the abandoned Douglass barn. Once she had finished dinner she waited around “downtown,” walking between the few shops on Main Street until night finally started to fall. Under the cover of darkness the college student recently turned super villain made her way back to her cabin. Once there she took out the costume she had so recently purchased in downtown Mammoth City and after inspecting it for rips and tears proceeded to don the flashy outfit.
M’Jenta was afraid that she wouldn’t find anything worse than a couple of teenagers sneaking a forbidden cigarette behind the old barn, but she held out hope that she would run into some kids that she could actually blackmail or otherwise persuade to follow her. This was her chance to create a power base that was completely independent of Darth Onion. The two villains had divided up Mammoth City, but M’Jenta harbored no illusions that she was anywhere near an equal footing with Onion, who had had many weeks to forge various gangs together into his own personal army.
As used to the city as she was M’Jenta hadn’t counted on it being as dark as it was when she finally arrived at the abandoned barn. She didn’t want to turn into energy form yet. In Mammoth City it hadn’t mattered what the fighting gang members had seen, but here she didn’t want to alarm people or alert her quarry that she was coming early. Therefore she spent several minutes stumbling through the cavernous structure before she came to the back wall. The villain crouched there listening to see if she could hear anyone in the field out back.
“Okay, pour that in here. Yes, that should be perfect. Now we’ll turn this one.” She heard an audible gulp. “Are you ready?”
“Of course, it can’t be any worse than that time we, eh, had that explosion happen in the chemistry lab?”
“Well true. Wow, that was a while ago, wasn’t it? I think it was while I was taking college classes in high school and you were just hanging out. Heck I think it was even before the chemistry department had its own building. If I recall the explosion was part of the reason that it got its own funding to move into a separate building.”
“Ah, old memories. You know, with that most recent explosion we might have to form a Chem Lab Exploders Club!”
“Yeah, but we don’t want anybody to find out we were the second group to qualify for membership.”
“Amen to that.” M’Jenta wasn’t at all sure who she had run into—but it sounded like they had something to hide, so they could be perfect candidates after all. “Here goes nothing.”
At that exact moment M’Jenta burst from the barn’s rickety rear entrance and sent a ball of flames directly towards the two figures. The nearer one immediately cried out in alarm as the ball of flame hit something that he was holding in his hands.
“Watch out!” the other one yelled. “That stuff can’t take much heat.”
With a loud cry the first figure threw his flashlight at M’Jenta and ran past her into the barn. Momentarily disoriented she shook her head for a moment then turning into her energy form she quickly gave chase. The fleeing individual slung whatever he was carrying over his back and practically flew up a long ladder leading up to the barn’s immense haymow.
The villain transformed back into physical form. “You’re not getting away that easily,” she muttered. In rapid succession she sent several balls of energy at the ladder—but unfortunately all missed their intended target. They did succeed in setting the ladder on fire and eventually breaking it into several pieces—but not before her target had finished ascending. With an exclamation of frustration M’Jenta blurred into energy form and rapidly ascended towards the loft. Once she was there she transformed back and rapidly searched for the figure. When she finally found him he was hiding beside a back window, obviously under the mistaken impression that he could actually hide from her.
“You’ll not get away that easily. I won’t let you go until I’m good and ready.” Without warning M’Jenta sent another fireball directly at the figure crouched in the shadows. Unfortunately for a second time she managed to hit the device that he once again clutched in front of him like a talisman. This time though it started to spark when the fireball hit it. He scuttled forward into the light, his features quite alarmed. Without any warning he threw the device at M’Jenta and threw himself out of the window.
The villain tried to dodge, but there simply wasn’t enough time to do more than move enough so that she could see out of the window. She was about to turn into energy form when the device exploded and a burning coldness enveloped her. Her last sight before she lost consciousness was her assailant flying outside the window.
* * *
“What in the blue blazes was that?” Hegel almost shouted.
“Um, I can fly. And I’m not sure who that woman was—but I don’t have time to talk. I think that device might have frozen her when the liquid nitrogen was released. But I don’t have any idea what else it might have done—that was a superconductor in there powering whatever it was. We need to get out of here—especially before this barn really starts burning and attracts more attention. Look, I’ll call you later—but right now you have to get back to your apartment.”
“But,” Hegel tried to interrupt.
“Please, just trust me,” Damien pleaded.
“Okay,” the math professor finally managed to choke out. “Take care of yourself, and call me soon.”
“Of course,” Damien replied with more cheerfulness than he felt. As quickly as he could he ran off into the shadows looking for a tree that he could climb. He needed speed right now to get back to Elfaeran and the only way he knew was to fly. He only hoped that he could get away before that insane woman could wake up and track him.
* * *
At last he was ready. It had taken Jeff several weeks to get all of the pieces into place, but at long last he was sure that everything was ready. With almost trembling fingers he sent the commands that would start his DOS attack on various government web sites. Then he paused and forced himself to wait a little over a half hour. Once he was sure that he had the attention of Mousetail and all of his counterparts he sent the e-mail that would activate Khan’s Revenge. He knew that it would be quite a while before he saw the fruits of his labor as all communication out of the base should soon be shut down, but he was sure that nothing could possibly go wrong at this point.
* * *
Once again Rubber Snake was alone in the satellite monitoring room. “I need to stop volunteering for these shifts,” he muttered. “First that incident with the webcam in Scotland and then Damien and Queen. What’s next? Another fireball like that one over Mammoth City? Bah, I shouldn’t ask, I’m sure that Murphy has an answer.” When an alarm started beeping he was almost afraid to turn around, sure that indeed something had gone wrong. Of course he was right. The satellite currently tasked to examine the territory surrounding Elfaeran Base had picked up a glowing figure flying over the ground. In excitement Rubber Snake hit the emergency button that should summon Blackbird to the control room. It appeared to be the same figure that he had seen examining some recent footage over Mammoth City. At the time he had been afraid it was just an isolated anomaly, but if he was seeing it repeat then he definitely wasn’t crazy and Q Lab might even be able to investigate.
Seconds after he pushed the button half of his screens flickered and died. The Q Labber groaned. The external security systems must be down yet again. Thankfully they’d finally moved the satellite systems to a completely separate network the week before. He hammered the button again, mentally willing Blackbird to hurry.
* * *
M’Jenta was furious. Not only had the kid, though come to think of it she wasn’t sure exactly how old he was, managed to escape her, but he had frozen her. It hadn’t been a comfortable experience. Only when she regained consciousness had she managed to shift into energy form and escape. She was now tracking him, though it wasn’t an easy process. He was flying far enough ahead of her that she could barely see him. When he finally disappeared she tried to go faster, no longer worried that he would spot her, but she realized a moment later that she needn’t have worried.
He had disappeared into a door in the side of a massive boulder. Strips of camouflage netting and electrical wiring hung in tatters from where he had forced his way through. She paused to shift and examine the entrance carefully. It looked as though it had been built to withstand a nuclear bombardment, but though she could see several apparently automatic devices surrounding the door none were operational. With a shrug she shifted back and glided through the entrance. She might not understand why her quarry had rushed into an abandoned bunker but she wasn’t about to retreat, not when she was this close.
The only warning she had was a far off voice shouting “fire!” She blacked out seconds after hearing that one word as a feeling of intense cold descended throughout her entire body, worse even than when the liquid nitrogen had exploded over her.
* * *
Little grey men, probes, bright lights. Her dreams were filled with all of the traditional memories of a UFO abduction and worse, much worse. The only things that repeated were three words that she heard again and again. The Flying Squirrel. She couldn’t make sense of anything beyond those three words and she clung to them with as intense a grip as her mind could manage.
With a start Marcia sat bolt upright in her bed. She was covered with sweat and her heartbeat was racing. It was all a dream. But no, it couldn’t have been a dream. She remembered going to Twin Peaks. She remembered the figures in the field and following one of them to the bunker. After that she remembered nothing, nothing… But wait, there was something. She remembered “The Flying Squirrel.” The budding villain growled in anger. He must have been the one to lure her into that trap. She would still struggle against Darth Onion but this Flying Squirrel, he would command most of her attention from now on. She couldn’t let anyone humiliate her like that. She had to have revenge.
* * *
“What did you do?” Damien almost screamed.
“Calm down,” Rubber Snake cautioned the young man. “We saw her coming after you so we laid a trap. She looked like a fireball so we figured that something extremely cold would stop her.”
“No, I understand that. I’m talking about all the experiments you ran. You kept repeating the name I gave you—and then you let her go!”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet kid? You’re a superhero—and ‘The Flying Squirrel’ isn’t a bad name. But what does every superhero need? Besides kryptonite, besides your Achilles Heel, every superhero needs a villain. Now this Magenta woman is your nemesis.”
Labels: Acidity, Blackbird, Carry Hobson, Damien Valiant, Darth Onion, Dennis Brown, Dr. Gordon, Jeff Smark, Marcia Silverberg, Nightrider, pHinneas Dinglethorpe, The Flying Squirrel
