"SIRION I: Lost Lightning'
Dec. 13th, 2024 07:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"SIRION I: Lost Lightning"
7/2024
I.
Early in the morning in Wappingers Falls, New York. Nothing was open in the Sunset Mall, even the formerly twenty-four hour Price Chopper had cut its hours back. A separate white brick building sat at the end of the strip, the People's Credit Union. At one-thirty AM, a brief flash of deep red light burst near the back of that building and a thin young boy walked around toward the drive-through window.
Maybe twelve years old, no more than five feet six and with the straight sticklike arms and legs of pre-puberty, the boy was wearing tight blue tunic and pants, with odd red leather boots and gloves. In one hand, he dangled a mundane plastic shopping bag. Shaggy black hair had not been cut in quite a while.
Stepping up to the ATM and dropping the bag, the boy grinned insolently up at the camera. Then, as easily as peeling off slices of warm pizza, he tore the ATM open with his hands. He threw metal parts aside, digging deeper until he was reaching into the receptable where the cash was stored. With no particular urgency, the boy threw handfuls of bills into the shopping bag. No audible alarm sounded, no lights flashed, but certainly the local police were getting an urgent signal at that moment.
The boy was laughing gleefully. He paused as he saw headlights approaching from the other end of the mall. He spun and, with the slightest of crouches, leaped twenty feet in the shadows. A minute later, a tan Nissan Sentra swung around toward the drive-through lane and stopped as the driver saw the wreckage scattered along the ground.
II.
Before the meeting began, Sable had set up four laptops on the long oak table. A dozen of them were kept on hand in case the entire team assembled at any one time, and one of the duty watch officer's duties was checking that they were all charged. At the head of the table, she took her chair and opened her own computer. Lauren Sable Reilly had been captain of the KDF for twenty-four years, more than half her life. While she wasn't tired of the responsibility yet, she had been gradually taking less of an active role in missions. The younger and more enthusiastic members were more than ready to rush out on what they saw as adventures.
In her mid-forties, Sable's face had matured in a handsome oval with unstressed authority in the dark eyes. The thick black hair, brushed straight back off a high forehead, added to the air of seriousness she always showed. She dressed more formally than her teammates in general did. In a pearl grey pantsuit with a cream-colored blouse and a thin silver chain under her collar, she would have been accepted as professional in any office setting.
Not so the first two members to arrive in the doorway. Jocelyn Garimara was in casual black slacks and a bright yellow jersey that went well with her dark skin. Close behind her was Timothy Limbo in his inevitable uniform of biker boots, worn-out jeans and white T-shirt under a new black leather jacket. His teammates teased him until he wore a different outfit once in a while.
As they settled into their chairs, the third on-duty member entered and sat down. Frank Mills was a tall man in a business suit, wearing a look of calm thoughtfulness on an unremarkable face. The Trom joined his teammates in opening his laptop and logging into Skype.
"Our team is really scattered right now," Sable began. "Let's see. Galvan is in Androval for a few days, he has to take care of his estate. Sheng and Josef are busy on their own missions, I don't want to recall them unless circumstances get serious. Okay, our other three are coming onscreen. What's your situations, guys?"
Everyone's monitors had split-screened to show three faces in separate boxes. Answering first was a small white-haired woman with a pugnacious resting face. "Hello, everyone," said Demrak Jin. "I am home with Pol. He's sleeping right now. If you need me, I can call Mrs Prescott to babysit."
"Thanks, Jin. Carlo, how are you doing?"
The gaunt face of Carlo Ventura smiled slightly. "I'm back home upstate, visiting with friends I haven't seen in a while. It's my off-day but of course I am on call. If necessary, I will return to headquarters at once."
Sable said, "Thanks for standing by. And that leaves Unicorn."
The piquant little face of a platinum blonde wearing oversized mirrored sunglasses blinked into view on the screen. "Hey there! Something big has definitely been eating goats here on Mykronos. I see a pattern. As a side benefit, the Greek sun is turning me a luscious golden brown."
"Okay. I'll make sure your next assignment is in Juneau, Alaska, Ashley. Now, let's all watch this footage. It's from two security cameras at a credit union up in Wappingers Falls."
Everyone studied the surreal events, then watched them again at half-speed. Finally, Timothy exhaled sharply. "I have no idea who or what that kid is."
"The image is not detailed enough for me to be certain," Frank Mills said, "But I believe he is a young Melgar. The facial bone structure is characteristic, and his clothing resembles an Androval arena uniform."
"Yeah, bright red boots and gloves for young guys aren't exactly in style," Jocelyn added. "But, you know, even though Melgarin are stronger than Human, they're not THAT strong. He ripped that ATM apart awful easily. And he jumped away like a grasshopper."
Sable gestured at Timothy Limbo with a command gesture. "Tim, use an Eldanar travel crystal and go to Androval. Find Galvan and ask him to come back here. I think our tentative conclusion merits that. If he's too tied up with his boundary dispute, see if Sulak or Valera are around. We need a powerhouse."
"We need some kind of phone or radio to talk to the adjacent realms," Tim complained.
"It'd be convenient for sure," Sable agreed.
"I'm on my way." Timothy stood up and headed out of the room.
"Frank and Jocelyn, that leaves you two to go to the scene. The Duchess County police sent us the video with the usual disclaimer about not involving civilians. So they're not going to be much help."
Jocelyn scoffed and folded her arms. "Never are. They give us just enough to make us curious. They know we're going to investigate. Bloody wankers. They're just using us."
"You've got a point," Sable said. "But honestly, we're Tel Shai knights. We'd fight the Midnight War even if we were fugitives and the police were actively chasing us."
"Hey, guys? I think I see something," said Ashley's voice. "Everybody play the video again. Okay. Freeze it now! There, by the corner of the bank. Is that a man standing there?"
After a few seconds, they all agreed. They had been concentrating on the boy ripping apart the ATM and had missed a vague figure in the shadows.
"All I can make out is he's pretty tall, maybe six three, and there's a lighter color patch on the front," Ashley said. "Captain, how about your microscopic eyes? I know you can identify pollen by sight."
"Not much use with this," Sable admitted. "The data isn't there for me to see. I do think there's the same shade of lighter material on his head. Possibly white hair and a beard."
Frank Mills shook his head. "I can only enhance the image slightly. It's a poor quality camera with inadequate light."
"But it does help," Sable went on. "We can keep in mind the boy is working with an adult. A tall man with white hair and beard. That's useful."
"I do such good work, even from thousands of miles away," Ashley said with a straight face.
"Yes, Unicorn, you're wonderful," Jocelyn grumbled. "Someday you'll meet someone who loves you as much as you do."
"Hey!"
"ANYway..." Sable continued. "I want Frank and Jocelyn to drive up to the scene this afternoon and start investigating. You are two of our most powerful members but be cautious if you confront the suspect. I know it sounds odd, warning a Trom and the Red Spectre host about a preteen boy, but we've seen what he can do. I don't want you to end up like that ATM."
III.
Jocelyn had chosen her favorite of the three KDF cars, the dark green Ford Mustang. Just before midnight, she pulled over far to one side of a convenient mart parking lot and let out a long annoyed breath. "What a wasted day," she said. "The scene was all cleaned up and the damaged ATM removed. We asked casual questions at stores all over town and no one had any information to give. I hope tonight gives us some results at least."
Next to her, Frank Mills had changed into his more advanced version of the field suit. The jacket and pants had several small pockets and pouches holding equipment. Strapped high up between his shoulder blades was the round convex disc of the gravity shield. As she watched, he lowered his helmet down over his head and sealed it to the high collar of his jacket. "All systems nominal."
Jocelyn herself was inspecting her Link, a device the size and thickness of three playing cards stacked on each other. "Your signal's clear, Frank. Can you hear me through your helmet?"
"Yes. I intend to search the city at a height of two hundred feet. Under these overcast conditions, I am unlikely to be spotted by anyone on the ground. With my Link and my helmet scanners working at wide angle, chances of finding our targets are as good as can be expected."
"While I sit useless in the car," Jocelyn said, then caught herself. "Sorry, Frank. I know I've been right grouchy lately. I don't really know why."
The Trom had raise the clear visor on his helmet and turned to regard her soberly. "Not having true emotions myself, I am unqualified to give advice or opinions if you are experiencing personal problems. But you are my trusted and valued teammate. I offer my full support in any way I can help."
"Aw, that's sweet. Especially coming from you, Frank." She tapped a small hand against his shoulder. "I wonder if I'm just hitting my expiration date. I've been fighting the goddamn Midnight War for twelve years now. Maybe I'm just burning out."
"Ashley Whitaker told me a phrase which might be relevant."
"Oh, this has got to be good. What did she say?"
""It is better to burn out than to rust out.'"
Jocelyn brayed a full laugh that she could not repress. "That bloody little Unicorn! You gotta love her, she's wiser than she seems."
Opening his door, the Trom said, "Perhaps you should drive around and search yourself. That will increase our chances."
"Yeah, that's a good idea." Jocelyn was staring right at him as Frank Mills stepped outside and abruptly shot straight upward into the night air. The gravity shield made no noise and gave off no light or exhaust. He was gone from sight instantly.
Deciding to at least keep busy, she started up the Mustang and pulled out onto Route 9. As far as she could tell, Wappingers Falls blended into Poughkeepsie enough that it didn't seem like a separate village at all. Cruising around the quiet streets did seem to ease her mood. There certainly were a lot of churches, some of them very impressive. She pulled over to get a good look at an ancient one built from fieldstone with an adjoining cemetery ringed with an iron fence.
Retiring would be no answer for her, she thought, even though she had enough socked away for a year or two. What would she do? She had never had a normal life. At puberty, the Red Spectre had first manifested. Not only the white people of her Northwest town but her own family had been terrified of her. She had been treated like a witch ready to be burned. Jobs never lasted for long, friends turned out to be only morbid curiosity-seekers, she hadn't even finished high school. For years, she just hung on to life, barely existing and suffering in quiet desperation.
Then the Sphinx had found her. That bastard. She was glad he was dead. The ways he had abused her physically and used her Red Spectre as a deadly weapon. After Jeremy Bane had freed her from the Sphinx's enslavement, she had accepted his offer to try out for Tel Shai and the KDF. And the past dozen years spoke for themselves. She had found purpose and genuine friends in her teammates. Her relationship with Arthur Tran for the past few years had been so easygoing and comforting that she had realized how lucky she was to have met him.
The raw living energy coiled restlessly inside her chest. The Ganmel wanted to get out, to crackle through the air and blow things up or sear through people. She had to release it every now and then before the pressure became painful. It was like carrying lightning inside you. Even scholars of the Midnight War knew little about these Ganmels for certain. Their origins and natures remained only speculation.
Before starting out again, Jocelyn checked the videos coming from Frank. The screen on her Link showed a slowly rotating view of the town from above in intense detail. Apparently nothing of interest had turned up. Certainly, he had not said anything. It was one-thirty AM.
As she slowly wandered the town in the Mustang, Jocelyn consciously paid attention to likely targets for the super-strong thief. Public ATMS of course, but also sites like jewelry or electronic stores. There seemed to be a large number of antique and collectible shops here, as well. She thought she might like to come here with Arthur some day to browse and poke around.
Very few people were out on the streets, and traffic was sparse. She slowed as she saw a long one-story brick building on its own little block. The sign on the entrance said URGENT CARE, but the facility was closed. Jocelyn nearly slammed on the brakes as she saw someone moving in the shadows next to the building. Ooh, she thought, that place might have painkillers that would be worth money.
She pulled over at the end of the block and shut the engine off. Yes. Definitely a man lurking around by the side of the URGENT CARE facility. She felt a thrill of anticipation as he moved into the light from the overhead poles and she saw a white beard covering his chest. Jocelyn tapped her Link and said, "Looks like I found something. Head this way."
Prudently, Jocelyn should have waited for Frank to arrive as support. Even if he was on the opposite side of town, it would only take him a few minutes to fly to the scene. But instead, she jumped out of the car and started striding directly toward the bearded man.
Emerging from behind him was a young boy bundled up in heavy clothes even in the summer weather, including a wool cap. He looked very much like the Melgar youth who had ripped the ATM apart, but with a bad limp and relying on a cane.
"Hey, you two! We need to talk," Jocelyn announced as she drew near.
"A lady cop? Are you a cop?" asked the boy. "Malberon, quick, do it."
And the white-bearded man pointed a gnarled accusing finger at the youth. In a strangely hollow, sepulchral voice, he shouted, "Sirion!"
A silent burst of lurid crimson light flared up around the boy. In that flash, his clothes were replaced by the bright Royal blue tunic and pants, with short red gloves and boots. Suddenly whole, agile and energetic, he rushed headlong at Jocelyn with his right fist drawn back.
IV.
Swift as light itself, a dark red silhouette her own size and shape flashed out of her body and shot like normal lightning toward Sirion. As the Ganmel manifested, it drew on Jocelyn's lifeforce enough that she weakened and dropped to one knee as her legs grew wobbly. With a sharp detonation loud as nearby thunder, the Red Spectre crashed directly into the Melgar boy's body and sent him flying back ten feet.
But Sirion was not harmed by the contact. Where a normal person would have been burned into halves, he only floundered for a second before jumping back up onto his feet. Seeing this, Jocelyn gasped in surprise. She hadn't thought anything living could survive being struck by her Ganmel.
Rising up to head height, the Red Spectre hovered for a second before eagerly rushing to the attack again. In the split-second before impact, the boy in the blue arena suit swung his right fist in a wide looping roundhouse that shattered the gralic manifestation into fragments which scattered through the air. Jocelyn cried out and fell over onto her side, lying still.
Sirion gazed down at the tiny shreds of red energy which were flickering out all around the parking lot. They went dark one by one. "What was that thing? My hand feels like it's broken, Malberon."
The white-bearded old man took the boy by the arms, tugging him backward. "That is a Ganmel! It will reform. They are almost impossible to destroy."
"So you say. I busted up that one real easy."
"Come away, come away, we must not be found with a dead woman," said the one addressed as Malberon. "We will loot somewhere else."
Seconds after the two hustled away down a side street, Frank Mills plummeted down from the sky as quickly as if he were falling. He hit the ground without harm as his field suit absorbed much of the shock of landing. Kneeling beside the unmoving form of his teammate, the Trom took readings on Jocelyn with the sensors in his helmet. All her vitals were low, below normal enough to put her at risk. Blood pressure was at 80 over 50, pulse slow at sixty per minute, blood oxygen level at 86. But she was still alive.
Frank lifted her carefully, one hand under her knees and the other around her shoulders with her head pressed against his chest. He got her strapped into the passenger seat of the KDF's Mustang, then swung around to jump into the driver's seat and start the engine up. Staying well above the speed limit, the Trom headed back for Route 9 and went south. He was relying on the scanning sensors and his own perceptions to watch for any police cars.
After twenty minutes, he took readings on Jocelyn again. There had been no change in her vitals. She seemed weak as an eighty year old in poor health, but she was breathing freely without struggling. As he drove, he tapped the Link on his belt and called headquarters in Manhattan. When Sable answered, he gave her a concise report.
"I don't know if taking her to an ER would do any good," Sable said. "They have no clue about how the host of a Red Spectre functions. I don't think she needs to be on a CPAP or anything. They would probably just watch and wait, which we can do better."
"I agree. We will arrive back at headquarters in an estimated forty-two minutes. If her condition deteriorates, I will take her to Metro General, of course. At the moment, I feel we should observe her and see if she recovers from the loss of her Spectre."
"I'll be here, biting my nails and pacing back and forth," Sable said before ending the call.
Traffic complications on the Bride slowed Frank Mills so that it was almost an hour before he pulled into the small two-car holding garage under the KDF building. Sable was of course waiting, showing anxiety that was rare for her to display. As the Trom carried Jocelyn up to the ground floor, Sable was using her own gralic power of enhanced perception to check her teammate out. She could hear heartbeats from across a room, smell the level of adrenalin in a person's sweat or watch pupils dilate with microscopic detail.
Entering the medical room in the front hall, they gently placed the still unresponsive Jocelyn on one of the three standard hospital beds. Sable said finally, "She's doing better than I was afraid of. Her signs are stronger than what you first reported. Heart action is fine. She does seem dehydrated." The team captain brought over a standing metal tree and hung a plastic bag of saline solution from it, inserted a needle into the right elbow and hooked her up. "That should help."
Frank Mills had removed his helmet and was holding it in the crook of his arm. He did not show his genuine lack of emotions. He had learned to place an appropriate expression on his face for the situation. Now, he looked concerned and thoughtful, gazing down. "We Trom know very little about the Red Spectre phenomenon. We do not even have a substantial theory to account for it."
"Nobody really does," Sable replied with sudden weariness. "The Ganmels are a manifestation of gralic force without any solid matter to them. They seem to bond to a Human host and remain as long as the host is alive. The Spectres fly at light speed, they cause explosions when they run into solid objects, they aren't affected by water or grounding. And they MOSTLY obey what their host orders, but they are willful and frankly a little bloodthirsty. More than once, Jocelyn has had some trouble reining her Spectre in."
She pulled over a chair and lowered herself onto it, leaning forward with hands clasped on her knees. "Frank, did you see the suspect... or suspects?"
"No. I must admit that all my attention was on Jocelyn's condition, when I should have taken a few seconds to scan the area."
"You did the right thing, my friend. We look out for each other. I would say, though, odds are really good that Jocelyn meet the Melgar boy and I guess he was strong enough to disrupt her Ganmel. Maybe the damn thing will rematerialize, maybe she's free of it."
Above the head of the medical table was a Trom tech monitor screen that worked without needing to attach leads to the patients. Both Sable and Frank were relieved to see her signs were creeping slowly back up to normal stats. For the first time, the unconscious Jocelyn shifted her weight and sighed audibly.
"That's a hopeful sign," Sable said. "But of course I'll be staying here to watch her. You need to make out a full report so we can forward it to everyone. I want the whole team up to speed on this. For once, we're going after an enemy everything we have."
V.
At seven the next morning, Demrak Jin reported for her day watch duty. Small and wiry, the Gelydra woman had stiff bristly white hair over a wide flat face that invariably bore a sullen expression. She was wearing unobtrusive dark jeans and a baggy green jersey, but her boots were comically oversized. She had reached maturity and her feet were not only unnaturally long but there was webbing between her toes. Her Race had many adaptations for deepsea living.
As soon as the security scanners in the foyer identified and cleared her, she immediately rushed to the medical room on the right. Sable smiled and said, "Jocelyn is much better. Her vitals are nearly normal. She woke up for a moment, recognized me and then went into a natural sleep. I think that's what her body needs most right now."
"Good. I'm glad," Jin replied, peering past her captain to where the Australian member was stretched out comfortably on the bed under a thin sheet pulled up to her chest. "I didn't think there was anything that could destroy her Red Spectre."
"I wish she could tell us what happened, but at least she's going to be all right." Sable stepped out into the front hall. "I've been up for twenty-two hours and I could use a little sleep myself so I'm thinking clearly. You're on watch duty seven to three this afternoon, Jin. Obviously, I want you to keep an eye on Jocelyn."
The Gelydra nodded. "Yes. Certainly. I might as well sit in the room with her. I can answer the door or the phone from there. Where's our team, captain?"
"
"I'm the only one here. Frank is driving back to the scene to keep investigating. He took his own car, so we have the Mustang and the Toyota Matrix available."
"But the rest of us?"
"Well, Tim went to Androval to fetch Galvan in this emergency. Unicorn is still in Greece, Josef is in Okali and Sheng is working on a case for his agency but of course they're all ready to hurry back here. Carlo's the only one we can't reach for another two days, he's being tested at Tel Shai."
Jin scowled more than usual. "If it were up to me, I would gather all of us and tear this Wappingers Falls apart to find the scum. And I hope it will be more who gets first chance at him!"
"We'll see," Sable said as she headed for the staircase up to the third floor where her private quarters were.
Left alone with the sleeping Jocelyn, Demrak Jin sat by a counter and opened the book from 1972, A HISTORY OF ULGOR by George Hanlon. She had also brought a pen and a small memo pad. In her neat but ornate handwriting, she began marking corrections to what she considered totally egregious errors to the text regarding her people. Jin was highly opinionated, particularly about the branch of the royal family to which she was related. Every page of the book was getting a memo inserted next to it pointing out mistakes.
By one that afternoon, she was writing, 'the War Squid were NEVER tamed, they remain vicious and stubborn creatures which must be broken by strong handlers' when the monitor screen above Jocelyn Garimara beeped softly. She had been checking it every few minutes, reassured by the way all the stats were returning to normal. Now, every number was green. Her teammate was stirring, turning over on one side, yawning and smacking her lips.
Tapping the Link on her belt, Jin said, "Captain? She's waking up, I think."
"On my way."
Seconds later, Sable hurried into the ward. Six hours sleep, a hot shower and a quick sandwich had refreshed her completely. As she entered, she heard Jocelyn launch into a stream of extremely offensive curse words most Americans wouldn't recognize.
"That's our girl," she said with relief.
Propping herself up on her elbows, Jocelyn looked around wildly for a moment, then settled down. "Oh. I'm back at headquarters. Frank brought me here, right? Sable, did he tell you what happened?"
"Only that he found you unconscious. It's a quarter after one in the afternoon. You were out for quite a while."
"I found that Melgar kid. Captain, he's impossibly strong. He broke my Ganmel up with a punch. I still can't feel her in me. What if she's gone forever?!"
Sable was listening to Jocelyn's strong steady heartbeat. "The Red Spectre chose you. It may remanifest after it heals, the same way it originally did."
"Like a pet cat coming home," Demrak Jin suggested. This attempt at being supporting was uncharacteristic enough that both her teammates looked oddly at her and Jin said, "What?"
Sitting up, Jocelyn swung her legs over the edge of the bed so she was facing her teammates. She was still wearing the same clothes she had on the night before. "Well, I guess it's more important to concentrate on the case right now. Sometimes I think we should wear bodycams like cops do."
"I've proposed it but it gets voted down by a majority every time," Sable said.
"I know." She launched into a detailed account of the events leading up to her Red Spectre eing shattered, then finished with, "Captain? Why do you have that look on your face?"
"I recognize the names those two used," Sable said. "Malberon was the greatest genius the Melgarin ever produced. He created Sagehelm, the Seven Swords, the Element Gems, the spear Brightbolt, lots more. And Sirion was the first Champion of Androval. He was supposed to be more powerful than any of the succeeding Champions. He was supposed to be as much stronger than Sulak or Galvan or Valera are than they are compared to a normal Human."
Jocelyn leaned forward. "And what else...?"
"They lived in the Darthan Age," Sable said. "They died thirty thousand years ago!"
SIRION I
12/13/2024
________________
This is going to be one of my three part "novels" (although by word count, they're not even novellas). Usually each part features a different group of characters so I can use a dozen of our heroes without me getting all confused. The second part seems like it's going to be pretty much nothing but a giant slugfest.
Sirion (the name is a mash of "Sirius" and "Orion") appeared in a Romal the Mongrel story, "The Speaking Head of Malberon." It's obvious that this story is going to be a pastiche/homage/rip-off whatever of some of my absolute favorite comic book series ever to hit print. Three teenagers say a magic word and turn into super-powered versions of themselves. I only wish I could write stories with some of the imagination and whimsy of those Golden Age tales!
7/2024
I.
Early in the morning in Wappingers Falls, New York. Nothing was open in the Sunset Mall, even the formerly twenty-four hour Price Chopper had cut its hours back. A separate white brick building sat at the end of the strip, the People's Credit Union. At one-thirty AM, a brief flash of deep red light burst near the back of that building and a thin young boy walked around toward the drive-through window.
Maybe twelve years old, no more than five feet six and with the straight sticklike arms and legs of pre-puberty, the boy was wearing tight blue tunic and pants, with odd red leather boots and gloves. In one hand, he dangled a mundane plastic shopping bag. Shaggy black hair had not been cut in quite a while.
Stepping up to the ATM and dropping the bag, the boy grinned insolently up at the camera. Then, as easily as peeling off slices of warm pizza, he tore the ATM open with his hands. He threw metal parts aside, digging deeper until he was reaching into the receptable where the cash was stored. With no particular urgency, the boy threw handfuls of bills into the shopping bag. No audible alarm sounded, no lights flashed, but certainly the local police were getting an urgent signal at that moment.
The boy was laughing gleefully. He paused as he saw headlights approaching from the other end of the mall. He spun and, with the slightest of crouches, leaped twenty feet in the shadows. A minute later, a tan Nissan Sentra swung around toward the drive-through lane and stopped as the driver saw the wreckage scattered along the ground.
II.
Before the meeting began, Sable had set up four laptops on the long oak table. A dozen of them were kept on hand in case the entire team assembled at any one time, and one of the duty watch officer's duties was checking that they were all charged. At the head of the table, she took her chair and opened her own computer. Lauren Sable Reilly had been captain of the KDF for twenty-four years, more than half her life. While she wasn't tired of the responsibility yet, she had been gradually taking less of an active role in missions. The younger and more enthusiastic members were more than ready to rush out on what they saw as adventures.
In her mid-forties, Sable's face had matured in a handsome oval with unstressed authority in the dark eyes. The thick black hair, brushed straight back off a high forehead, added to the air of seriousness she always showed. She dressed more formally than her teammates in general did. In a pearl grey pantsuit with a cream-colored blouse and a thin silver chain under her collar, she would have been accepted as professional in any office setting.
Not so the first two members to arrive in the doorway. Jocelyn Garimara was in casual black slacks and a bright yellow jersey that went well with her dark skin. Close behind her was Timothy Limbo in his inevitable uniform of biker boots, worn-out jeans and white T-shirt under a new black leather jacket. His teammates teased him until he wore a different outfit once in a while.
As they settled into their chairs, the third on-duty member entered and sat down. Frank Mills was a tall man in a business suit, wearing a look of calm thoughtfulness on an unremarkable face. The Trom joined his teammates in opening his laptop and logging into Skype.
"Our team is really scattered right now," Sable began. "Let's see. Galvan is in Androval for a few days, he has to take care of his estate. Sheng and Josef are busy on their own missions, I don't want to recall them unless circumstances get serious. Okay, our other three are coming onscreen. What's your situations, guys?"
Everyone's monitors had split-screened to show three faces in separate boxes. Answering first was a small white-haired woman with a pugnacious resting face. "Hello, everyone," said Demrak Jin. "I am home with Pol. He's sleeping right now. If you need me, I can call Mrs Prescott to babysit."
"Thanks, Jin. Carlo, how are you doing?"
The gaunt face of Carlo Ventura smiled slightly. "I'm back home upstate, visiting with friends I haven't seen in a while. It's my off-day but of course I am on call. If necessary, I will return to headquarters at once."
Sable said, "Thanks for standing by. And that leaves Unicorn."
The piquant little face of a platinum blonde wearing oversized mirrored sunglasses blinked into view on the screen. "Hey there! Something big has definitely been eating goats here on Mykronos. I see a pattern. As a side benefit, the Greek sun is turning me a luscious golden brown."
"Okay. I'll make sure your next assignment is in Juneau, Alaska, Ashley. Now, let's all watch this footage. It's from two security cameras at a credit union up in Wappingers Falls."
Everyone studied the surreal events, then watched them again at half-speed. Finally, Timothy exhaled sharply. "I have no idea who or what that kid is."
"The image is not detailed enough for me to be certain," Frank Mills said, "But I believe he is a young Melgar. The facial bone structure is characteristic, and his clothing resembles an Androval arena uniform."
"Yeah, bright red boots and gloves for young guys aren't exactly in style," Jocelyn added. "But, you know, even though Melgarin are stronger than Human, they're not THAT strong. He ripped that ATM apart awful easily. And he jumped away like a grasshopper."
Sable gestured at Timothy Limbo with a command gesture. "Tim, use an Eldanar travel crystal and go to Androval. Find Galvan and ask him to come back here. I think our tentative conclusion merits that. If he's too tied up with his boundary dispute, see if Sulak or Valera are around. We need a powerhouse."
"We need some kind of phone or radio to talk to the adjacent realms," Tim complained.
"It'd be convenient for sure," Sable agreed.
"I'm on my way." Timothy stood up and headed out of the room.
"Frank and Jocelyn, that leaves you two to go to the scene. The Duchess County police sent us the video with the usual disclaimer about not involving civilians. So they're not going to be much help."
Jocelyn scoffed and folded her arms. "Never are. They give us just enough to make us curious. They know we're going to investigate. Bloody wankers. They're just using us."
"You've got a point," Sable said. "But honestly, we're Tel Shai knights. We'd fight the Midnight War even if we were fugitives and the police were actively chasing us."
"Hey, guys? I think I see something," said Ashley's voice. "Everybody play the video again. Okay. Freeze it now! There, by the corner of the bank. Is that a man standing there?"
After a few seconds, they all agreed. They had been concentrating on the boy ripping apart the ATM and had missed a vague figure in the shadows.
"All I can make out is he's pretty tall, maybe six three, and there's a lighter color patch on the front," Ashley said. "Captain, how about your microscopic eyes? I know you can identify pollen by sight."
"Not much use with this," Sable admitted. "The data isn't there for me to see. I do think there's the same shade of lighter material on his head. Possibly white hair and a beard."
Frank Mills shook his head. "I can only enhance the image slightly. It's a poor quality camera with inadequate light."
"But it does help," Sable went on. "We can keep in mind the boy is working with an adult. A tall man with white hair and beard. That's useful."
"I do such good work, even from thousands of miles away," Ashley said with a straight face.
"Yes, Unicorn, you're wonderful," Jocelyn grumbled. "Someday you'll meet someone who loves you as much as you do."
"Hey!"
"ANYway..." Sable continued. "I want Frank and Jocelyn to drive up to the scene this afternoon and start investigating. You are two of our most powerful members but be cautious if you confront the suspect. I know it sounds odd, warning a Trom and the Red Spectre host about a preteen boy, but we've seen what he can do. I don't want you to end up like that ATM."
III.
Jocelyn had chosen her favorite of the three KDF cars, the dark green Ford Mustang. Just before midnight, she pulled over far to one side of a convenient mart parking lot and let out a long annoyed breath. "What a wasted day," she said. "The scene was all cleaned up and the damaged ATM removed. We asked casual questions at stores all over town and no one had any information to give. I hope tonight gives us some results at least."
Next to her, Frank Mills had changed into his more advanced version of the field suit. The jacket and pants had several small pockets and pouches holding equipment. Strapped high up between his shoulder blades was the round convex disc of the gravity shield. As she watched, he lowered his helmet down over his head and sealed it to the high collar of his jacket. "All systems nominal."
Jocelyn herself was inspecting her Link, a device the size and thickness of three playing cards stacked on each other. "Your signal's clear, Frank. Can you hear me through your helmet?"
"Yes. I intend to search the city at a height of two hundred feet. Under these overcast conditions, I am unlikely to be spotted by anyone on the ground. With my Link and my helmet scanners working at wide angle, chances of finding our targets are as good as can be expected."
"While I sit useless in the car," Jocelyn said, then caught herself. "Sorry, Frank. I know I've been right grouchy lately. I don't really know why."
The Trom had raise the clear visor on his helmet and turned to regard her soberly. "Not having true emotions myself, I am unqualified to give advice or opinions if you are experiencing personal problems. But you are my trusted and valued teammate. I offer my full support in any way I can help."
"Aw, that's sweet. Especially coming from you, Frank." She tapped a small hand against his shoulder. "I wonder if I'm just hitting my expiration date. I've been fighting the goddamn Midnight War for twelve years now. Maybe I'm just burning out."
"Ashley Whitaker told me a phrase which might be relevant."
"Oh, this has got to be good. What did she say?"
""It is better to burn out than to rust out.'"
Jocelyn brayed a full laugh that she could not repress. "That bloody little Unicorn! You gotta love her, she's wiser than she seems."
Opening his door, the Trom said, "Perhaps you should drive around and search yourself. That will increase our chances."
"Yeah, that's a good idea." Jocelyn was staring right at him as Frank Mills stepped outside and abruptly shot straight upward into the night air. The gravity shield made no noise and gave off no light or exhaust. He was gone from sight instantly.
Deciding to at least keep busy, she started up the Mustang and pulled out onto Route 9. As far as she could tell, Wappingers Falls blended into Poughkeepsie enough that it didn't seem like a separate village at all. Cruising around the quiet streets did seem to ease her mood. There certainly were a lot of churches, some of them very impressive. She pulled over to get a good look at an ancient one built from fieldstone with an adjoining cemetery ringed with an iron fence.
Retiring would be no answer for her, she thought, even though she had enough socked away for a year or two. What would she do? She had never had a normal life. At puberty, the Red Spectre had first manifested. Not only the white people of her Northwest town but her own family had been terrified of her. She had been treated like a witch ready to be burned. Jobs never lasted for long, friends turned out to be only morbid curiosity-seekers, she hadn't even finished high school. For years, she just hung on to life, barely existing and suffering in quiet desperation.
Then the Sphinx had found her. That bastard. She was glad he was dead. The ways he had abused her physically and used her Red Spectre as a deadly weapon. After Jeremy Bane had freed her from the Sphinx's enslavement, she had accepted his offer to try out for Tel Shai and the KDF. And the past dozen years spoke for themselves. She had found purpose and genuine friends in her teammates. Her relationship with Arthur Tran for the past few years had been so easygoing and comforting that she had realized how lucky she was to have met him.
The raw living energy coiled restlessly inside her chest. The Ganmel wanted to get out, to crackle through the air and blow things up or sear through people. She had to release it every now and then before the pressure became painful. It was like carrying lightning inside you. Even scholars of the Midnight War knew little about these Ganmels for certain. Their origins and natures remained only speculation.
Before starting out again, Jocelyn checked the videos coming from Frank. The screen on her Link showed a slowly rotating view of the town from above in intense detail. Apparently nothing of interest had turned up. Certainly, he had not said anything. It was one-thirty AM.
As she slowly wandered the town in the Mustang, Jocelyn consciously paid attention to likely targets for the super-strong thief. Public ATMS of course, but also sites like jewelry or electronic stores. There seemed to be a large number of antique and collectible shops here, as well. She thought she might like to come here with Arthur some day to browse and poke around.
Very few people were out on the streets, and traffic was sparse. She slowed as she saw a long one-story brick building on its own little block. The sign on the entrance said URGENT CARE, but the facility was closed. Jocelyn nearly slammed on the brakes as she saw someone moving in the shadows next to the building. Ooh, she thought, that place might have painkillers that would be worth money.
She pulled over at the end of the block and shut the engine off. Yes. Definitely a man lurking around by the side of the URGENT CARE facility. She felt a thrill of anticipation as he moved into the light from the overhead poles and she saw a white beard covering his chest. Jocelyn tapped her Link and said, "Looks like I found something. Head this way."
Prudently, Jocelyn should have waited for Frank to arrive as support. Even if he was on the opposite side of town, it would only take him a few minutes to fly to the scene. But instead, she jumped out of the car and started striding directly toward the bearded man.
Emerging from behind him was a young boy bundled up in heavy clothes even in the summer weather, including a wool cap. He looked very much like the Melgar youth who had ripped the ATM apart, but with a bad limp and relying on a cane.
"Hey, you two! We need to talk," Jocelyn announced as she drew near.
"A lady cop? Are you a cop?" asked the boy. "Malberon, quick, do it."
And the white-bearded man pointed a gnarled accusing finger at the youth. In a strangely hollow, sepulchral voice, he shouted, "Sirion!"
A silent burst of lurid crimson light flared up around the boy. In that flash, his clothes were replaced by the bright Royal blue tunic and pants, with short red gloves and boots. Suddenly whole, agile and energetic, he rushed headlong at Jocelyn with his right fist drawn back.
IV.
Swift as light itself, a dark red silhouette her own size and shape flashed out of her body and shot like normal lightning toward Sirion. As the Ganmel manifested, it drew on Jocelyn's lifeforce enough that she weakened and dropped to one knee as her legs grew wobbly. With a sharp detonation loud as nearby thunder, the Red Spectre crashed directly into the Melgar boy's body and sent him flying back ten feet.
But Sirion was not harmed by the contact. Where a normal person would have been burned into halves, he only floundered for a second before jumping back up onto his feet. Seeing this, Jocelyn gasped in surprise. She hadn't thought anything living could survive being struck by her Ganmel.
Rising up to head height, the Red Spectre hovered for a second before eagerly rushing to the attack again. In the split-second before impact, the boy in the blue arena suit swung his right fist in a wide looping roundhouse that shattered the gralic manifestation into fragments which scattered through the air. Jocelyn cried out and fell over onto her side, lying still.
Sirion gazed down at the tiny shreds of red energy which were flickering out all around the parking lot. They went dark one by one. "What was that thing? My hand feels like it's broken, Malberon."
The white-bearded old man took the boy by the arms, tugging him backward. "That is a Ganmel! It will reform. They are almost impossible to destroy."
"So you say. I busted up that one real easy."
"Come away, come away, we must not be found with a dead woman," said the one addressed as Malberon. "We will loot somewhere else."
Seconds after the two hustled away down a side street, Frank Mills plummeted down from the sky as quickly as if he were falling. He hit the ground without harm as his field suit absorbed much of the shock of landing. Kneeling beside the unmoving form of his teammate, the Trom took readings on Jocelyn with the sensors in his helmet. All her vitals were low, below normal enough to put her at risk. Blood pressure was at 80 over 50, pulse slow at sixty per minute, blood oxygen level at 86. But she was still alive.
Frank lifted her carefully, one hand under her knees and the other around her shoulders with her head pressed against his chest. He got her strapped into the passenger seat of the KDF's Mustang, then swung around to jump into the driver's seat and start the engine up. Staying well above the speed limit, the Trom headed back for Route 9 and went south. He was relying on the scanning sensors and his own perceptions to watch for any police cars.
After twenty minutes, he took readings on Jocelyn again. There had been no change in her vitals. She seemed weak as an eighty year old in poor health, but she was breathing freely without struggling. As he drove, he tapped the Link on his belt and called headquarters in Manhattan. When Sable answered, he gave her a concise report.
"I don't know if taking her to an ER would do any good," Sable said. "They have no clue about how the host of a Red Spectre functions. I don't think she needs to be on a CPAP or anything. They would probably just watch and wait, which we can do better."
"I agree. We will arrive back at headquarters in an estimated forty-two minutes. If her condition deteriorates, I will take her to Metro General, of course. At the moment, I feel we should observe her and see if she recovers from the loss of her Spectre."
"I'll be here, biting my nails and pacing back and forth," Sable said before ending the call.
Traffic complications on the Bride slowed Frank Mills so that it was almost an hour before he pulled into the small two-car holding garage under the KDF building. Sable was of course waiting, showing anxiety that was rare for her to display. As the Trom carried Jocelyn up to the ground floor, Sable was using her own gralic power of enhanced perception to check her teammate out. She could hear heartbeats from across a room, smell the level of adrenalin in a person's sweat or watch pupils dilate with microscopic detail.
Entering the medical room in the front hall, they gently placed the still unresponsive Jocelyn on one of the three standard hospital beds. Sable said finally, "She's doing better than I was afraid of. Her signs are stronger than what you first reported. Heart action is fine. She does seem dehydrated." The team captain brought over a standing metal tree and hung a plastic bag of saline solution from it, inserted a needle into the right elbow and hooked her up. "That should help."
Frank Mills had removed his helmet and was holding it in the crook of his arm. He did not show his genuine lack of emotions. He had learned to place an appropriate expression on his face for the situation. Now, he looked concerned and thoughtful, gazing down. "We Trom know very little about the Red Spectre phenomenon. We do not even have a substantial theory to account for it."
"Nobody really does," Sable replied with sudden weariness. "The Ganmels are a manifestation of gralic force without any solid matter to them. They seem to bond to a Human host and remain as long as the host is alive. The Spectres fly at light speed, they cause explosions when they run into solid objects, they aren't affected by water or grounding. And they MOSTLY obey what their host orders, but they are willful and frankly a little bloodthirsty. More than once, Jocelyn has had some trouble reining her Spectre in."
She pulled over a chair and lowered herself onto it, leaning forward with hands clasped on her knees. "Frank, did you see the suspect... or suspects?"
"No. I must admit that all my attention was on Jocelyn's condition, when I should have taken a few seconds to scan the area."
"You did the right thing, my friend. We look out for each other. I would say, though, odds are really good that Jocelyn meet the Melgar boy and I guess he was strong enough to disrupt her Ganmel. Maybe the damn thing will rematerialize, maybe she's free of it."
Above the head of the medical table was a Trom tech monitor screen that worked without needing to attach leads to the patients. Both Sable and Frank were relieved to see her signs were creeping slowly back up to normal stats. For the first time, the unconscious Jocelyn shifted her weight and sighed audibly.
"That's a hopeful sign," Sable said. "But of course I'll be staying here to watch her. You need to make out a full report so we can forward it to everyone. I want the whole team up to speed on this. For once, we're going after an enemy everything we have."
V.
At seven the next morning, Demrak Jin reported for her day watch duty. Small and wiry, the Gelydra woman had stiff bristly white hair over a wide flat face that invariably bore a sullen expression. She was wearing unobtrusive dark jeans and a baggy green jersey, but her boots were comically oversized. She had reached maturity and her feet were not only unnaturally long but there was webbing between her toes. Her Race had many adaptations for deepsea living.
As soon as the security scanners in the foyer identified and cleared her, she immediately rushed to the medical room on the right. Sable smiled and said, "Jocelyn is much better. Her vitals are nearly normal. She woke up for a moment, recognized me and then went into a natural sleep. I think that's what her body needs most right now."
"Good. I'm glad," Jin replied, peering past her captain to where the Australian member was stretched out comfortably on the bed under a thin sheet pulled up to her chest. "I didn't think there was anything that could destroy her Red Spectre."
"I wish she could tell us what happened, but at least she's going to be all right." Sable stepped out into the front hall. "I've been up for twenty-two hours and I could use a little sleep myself so I'm thinking clearly. You're on watch duty seven to three this afternoon, Jin. Obviously, I want you to keep an eye on Jocelyn."
The Gelydra nodded. "Yes. Certainly. I might as well sit in the room with her. I can answer the door or the phone from there. Where's our team, captain?"
"
"I'm the only one here. Frank is driving back to the scene to keep investigating. He took his own car, so we have the Mustang and the Toyota Matrix available."
"But the rest of us?"
"Well, Tim went to Androval to fetch Galvan in this emergency. Unicorn is still in Greece, Josef is in Okali and Sheng is working on a case for his agency but of course they're all ready to hurry back here. Carlo's the only one we can't reach for another two days, he's being tested at Tel Shai."
Jin scowled more than usual. "If it were up to me, I would gather all of us and tear this Wappingers Falls apart to find the scum. And I hope it will be more who gets first chance at him!"
"We'll see," Sable said as she headed for the staircase up to the third floor where her private quarters were.
Left alone with the sleeping Jocelyn, Demrak Jin sat by a counter and opened the book from 1972, A HISTORY OF ULGOR by George Hanlon. She had also brought a pen and a small memo pad. In her neat but ornate handwriting, she began marking corrections to what she considered totally egregious errors to the text regarding her people. Jin was highly opinionated, particularly about the branch of the royal family to which she was related. Every page of the book was getting a memo inserted next to it pointing out mistakes.
By one that afternoon, she was writing, 'the War Squid were NEVER tamed, they remain vicious and stubborn creatures which must be broken by strong handlers' when the monitor screen above Jocelyn Garimara beeped softly. She had been checking it every few minutes, reassured by the way all the stats were returning to normal. Now, every number was green. Her teammate was stirring, turning over on one side, yawning and smacking her lips.
Tapping the Link on her belt, Jin said, "Captain? She's waking up, I think."
"On my way."
Seconds later, Sable hurried into the ward. Six hours sleep, a hot shower and a quick sandwich had refreshed her completely. As she entered, she heard Jocelyn launch into a stream of extremely offensive curse words most Americans wouldn't recognize.
"That's our girl," she said with relief.
Propping herself up on her elbows, Jocelyn looked around wildly for a moment, then settled down. "Oh. I'm back at headquarters. Frank brought me here, right? Sable, did he tell you what happened?"
"Only that he found you unconscious. It's a quarter after one in the afternoon. You were out for quite a while."
"I found that Melgar kid. Captain, he's impossibly strong. He broke my Ganmel up with a punch. I still can't feel her in me. What if she's gone forever?!"
Sable was listening to Jocelyn's strong steady heartbeat. "The Red Spectre chose you. It may remanifest after it heals, the same way it originally did."
"Like a pet cat coming home," Demrak Jin suggested. This attempt at being supporting was uncharacteristic enough that both her teammates looked oddly at her and Jin said, "What?"
Sitting up, Jocelyn swung her legs over the edge of the bed so she was facing her teammates. She was still wearing the same clothes she had on the night before. "Well, I guess it's more important to concentrate on the case right now. Sometimes I think we should wear bodycams like cops do."
"I've proposed it but it gets voted down by a majority every time," Sable said.
"I know." She launched into a detailed account of the events leading up to her Red Spectre eing shattered, then finished with, "Captain? Why do you have that look on your face?"
"I recognize the names those two used," Sable said. "Malberon was the greatest genius the Melgarin ever produced. He created Sagehelm, the Seven Swords, the Element Gems, the spear Brightbolt, lots more. And Sirion was the first Champion of Androval. He was supposed to be more powerful than any of the succeeding Champions. He was supposed to be as much stronger than Sulak or Galvan or Valera are than they are compared to a normal Human."
Jocelyn leaned forward. "And what else...?"
"They lived in the Darthan Age," Sable said. "They died thirty thousand years ago!"
SIRION I
12/13/2024
________________
This is going to be one of my three part "novels" (although by word count, they're not even novellas). Usually each part features a different group of characters so I can use a dozen of our heroes without me getting all confused. The second part seems like it's going to be pretty much nothing but a giant slugfest.
Sirion (the name is a mash of "Sirius" and "Orion") appeared in a Romal the Mongrel story, "The Speaking Head of Malberon." It's obvious that this story is going to be a pastiche/homage/rip-off whatever of some of my absolute favorite comic book series ever to hit print. Three teenagers say a magic word and turn into super-powered versions of themselves. I only wish I could write stories with some of the imagination and whimsy of those Golden Age tales!
no subject
Date: 2024-12-14 09:48 pm (UTC)This is going to be one of my three part "novels" (although by word count, they're not even novellas). Usually each part features a different group of characters so I can feature a dozen of our heroes without me getting all confused. The second part seems like it's going to be pretty much nothing but a giant slugfest.
It's pretty obvious that this is an affectionate homage/pastiche/rip-off whatever of one of my favorite comic book series ever to see print. Three teenagers say a magic word and turn into super-powered versions of themselves. Going on an absolute binge of rereading those stories recently, I'm gobsmacked again by how charming and well-crafted they are, going from whimsy to horror to human interest without a hiccup. To me, at least, their Golden Age stories remain classic and I'm sad that their current heavy-handed publisher just hits all the wrong notes with them. But as is true when new grim! dark! shocking revisions come out, we can be comforted knowing the originals still exist, safe from all harm.