It was all so sordid, so horrible, impossible to overcome with even the best of deeds, and it would dangle around my neck for the rest of my life. It made me wish to be back at Utopia.

  The door slid open and Superdynamic backed out into Babel’s control center.

  If the rest of the base was an impressive undertaking of science and technology, the control center was the pinnacle of all the discoveries below, the culmination of every scientific effort man had set forth since the days of fire and rock.

  The multilevel structure was buzzing with activity and afire with lighting that gave it the cold, antiseptic feel of a hospital. But the similarities ended there. The computer consoles were arranged along the walls of the first floor, each with a massive display. The center of the room was dominated by a lower level with several dozen techs working at computer stations. Each person seemed to talk atop each other as if the communications were simultaneous, with both people speaking and listening at once for maximum efficiency. The upper deck was a ring around the main floor, with a jutting peninsula where lay the most impressive bank of computers I had ever seen, with a structure that was like a showerhead; instead of water, though, the thing dripped raw energy, like tiny motes of light among a glowing containment field. The techs on the floor interfaced with their computers without sitting in front of them, without the ubiquitous mouse and keyboard. But somehow, each person was manipulating the computer. Perhaps it was by a neural link, because they stood near an individual machine, and the monitors were updating as if someone was using the computer.

  Superdynamic shot to the air and flew to the jetty that jutted over the room, landing there and walking into the glowing field. He leaned on the railing, overlooking me.

  “Now do you see?” he said waving his arm, demonstrating his staff’s hard work. In fact, all of the team was here, each with a small station, no better or worse than any of the techs. Moe looked at me and shook his head. Focus’ eyes were purposefully averted, not looking at all like she’d been fighting for her life less than an hour ago, thanks to Mirage’s healing powers.

  One thing was clear: Superdynamic was on it. Each of the monitors displayed something having to do with the issue in D.C. Some were replaying earlier footage of the heavy fighting, including some supers going at each other. Still more were following the present action using satellite footage and telemetry, and in the center, above the pit, was a 3D holographic display of the whole city, some areas marked in green, but the vast majority, including the central areas where the White House and Congress were, marked in red. I could infer that the red marked taken places.

  “We’re working the problem here; we’re trying to figure it out. Not running around making things worse for everyone,” he said, raising his voice so loud that most techs paused what they were doing and turned their attention to us.

  “All I want to do, man, is help,” I said.

  “Really?”

  I nodded, growing apprehensive at the mass audience. There were easily a hundred techs and supers here, all watching me.

  “Like you helped Focus?”

  I lowered my head. “I lost it. I’m sorry.”

  Superdynamic scoffed, “Sorry? That doesn’t cut it here, you understand? Sorry doesn’t mean a thing for all the people who have ended up dead since you showed up. Yeah, I’m keeping track, in case you were wondering, and so are a lot of other people.”

  “I just want to help Apogee,” I said, starting to grow angry. “And I want to stop Zundergrub.”

  “Sure you do,” he said.

  “I do, dammit. I came back to help her, and you told me you know where she was. You said I could help. Turns out you just want to keep me under wraps, huh? You just want to make sure I don’t hurt anyone....” I stopped, immediately hating the words I’d chosen.

  “I wish I could keep you from hurting people, Blackjack. Believe me, I would do it right now if I could.”

  “That doesn’t sound too heroic, Superdynamic.”

  He laughed. “You think I’m here to be a hero? Or that anyone else here is, for that matter? That’s more pathetic than everything else. We’re here to clean up your messes, man. And believe me, this is your mess.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I shot back.

  “This is all your fault.”

  My mouth dropped. “You’re crazy.”

  “If not for you, back on Hashima, we would’ve stopped Retcon. But no, you had to be the tough guy, you needed to prove to the world that you’re man enough, pulling that little stunt with Epic.”

  “If you’re upset that I beat your friend, you can-“

  “It’s all your fault,” he snapped, slamming his hands on the railing. “We would have stopped Retcon and Zundergrub. Come on, Blackjack. You’re supposed to be pretty smart. Think about it. What happens if you’re not there?”

  I swallowed hard, looking around the room, finally lowering my gaze and nodding.

  “That’s right,” he said, knowing he had me, and going for the knockout punch. “Now you’re starting to understand. We can’t go berserk and start knocking shit down. What’s happening now has world-ending implications, maybe not now, but in the future. If the United States falls to civil war, who’s to say what Russia will do. What about China? What happens to the world markets, to global peace? Don’t you see? What happens now will affect every person on the planet, to the most remote village in the farthest corner of the Earth. And what happens if the American nuclear stockpile falls into the hands of this crazy General Maxwell and his people? Put it on screen, Moe.”

  Moe walked toward the central bank, putting a video feed from a recent press conference with Maxwell surrounded by all his cronies and zooming into a closeup of the general himself.

  “Everything that has tried to enter the Washington D.C. area has been destroyed, or not heard from since. We think the White House is still holding out, but time is running out and we have to settle on a–”

  “That’s right, we have to act! We can’t just stay here–” I started, but something about the footage of Maxwell had spurred my attention. I walked over, but the camera angle changed, tightening on the man.

  “We have to act, Blackjack, but we have to act ‘right’. Maxwell has some secret weapon–”

  “Wait!” I yelled. “That footage. Moe, can you rewind to when it was a full shot of everyone?”

  He looked over at Superdynamic for permission, and when he received a nod, the video rewound until it was a wide shot of the general and all his men.

  “That,” I said pointing at the screen. It was over my head, but it was so big that almost everyone in the room could see.

  Moe saw what I was pointing at and centered the footage on the person I was talking about, a middle aged, balding man with a bit of facial hair. He might have been wearing a suit instead of his usual lab coat, but I would recognize that face anywhere.

  “Zundergrub,” Moe said.

  “I knew it,” I said.

  “So he’s behind all this?” Superdynamic said. I readied for another pontificating speech about how I had fucked up at Hashima, allowing this to happen, but another figure, standing behind Zundergrub drew my attention.

  “Moe, the guy that’s standing behind him. The tall bearded dude in the back, can you zoom in?”

  Moe did it this time without asking for his bosses’ blessing, and snapping the image tight, I saw the face of death.

  “Lord Mighty,” I whispered, but everyone in the room recognized him this up close. He was looking right at the camera, taller than everyone around him, his massive frame somehow fitting into a well-tailored suit, but the shoulders, the slicked hair, and the contemptuous glare were unmistakable. He looked different than I had seen him before, with longer hair shot through with gray and a full beard, but his demeanor was as before; he was like a god surrounded by children, resentful of their presence, yet for some reason he had seemed almost invisible standing in the far back.

  “Oh, God,” Templar said.

  “Has he gone crazy?” Moe asked.

  I shook my head. “Zundergrub must have him. That’s the only explanation.”

  “Explains a lot,” Superdynamic said. “No wonder nothing can get into town.”

  “Goddamn,” Moe said softly.

  “There you go,” I told Superdynamic. “I helped. Now tell me where Apogee is, like you said you would.”

  His expression was suddenly severe, his eyes downcast.

  “Dammit,” I said. “You promised me.” But his expression was so dire, I was worried about something else, that she might be dead. He looked at me and flashed a nervous smile.

  “I know where she is, Blackjack,” he said. “Apogee put together her old team, the Revolution,” he said and suddenly my stomach felt sick, my heart dropped, and the room began to spin.

  “She’s in D.C. in the middle of it,” he continued. “And we haven’t been able to contact her for over thirty-six hours.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  After the showdown, after he got his licks in, Superdynamic figured the next conversation was best in private. He led me up to his penthouse chambers, a circular room with a one-piece window that covered the walls and roof like a dome. From that vantage point, I figure he must have felt like the king of the world, or of Africa at least. The suite was divided by light walls, holo-emitted pretend walls that gave the place definition while allowing Superdynamic the freedom of redecorating at will. There was some real furniture as well, all futuristic and modern, intended more for show. The couches were blocky and hard, and the chairs flimsy and fragile.

  I stood a few feet from the central lift, watching him run through specific programming that turned the penthouse into something personal and cozy. There was a woman up here with us, an attractive girl in her mid-twenties, who despite acting as his assistant and getting us drinks shared a few longing looks with him that led me to believe she was more than just hired help.

  “This is Rebecca,” he said, noticing my interest, and she nodded curtly at me.

  She was a slender woman, mostly legs like a fashion model. Rebecca’s face was out of the cover of a magazine, with alluring blue eyes so light in color they were almost grey, full lips and high cheek bones, and long, straight, blonde hair. She moved through the room like she was comfortable there, denoting ownership of not just the location, but also the man.

  The room morphed and a table came out of floor, but I had not seen a verbal or visual command from Superdynamic or Rebecca. The lighting changed – the outer areas of the large suite darkened, an overhead light illuminating us from above, making the whole thing rather cozy. The stars shone above, and an inky blackness surrounded us, making it seem like we floated high above the clouds. Three chairs came up as well, and moments later another person joined us, a tall fellow dressed like a chef.

  “Good evening, Alain,” Superdynamic said. “We have a guest tonight.”

  He looked at me and snapped his feet, bowing ever so slightly, “Ah, it will be my pleasure.”

  “Have a seat, Blackjack,” Rebecca said, indicating that I should sit across from Superdynamic as he took his place at the head. The table was big enough for six, though there were only three settings, and she took a spot next to him.

  “We have a navy bean and escarole soup with andouille sausage,” Alain began. “Followed by a tropical mango salad. Then some rock shrimp risotto with asparagus tips finished with lemon, and finally Caribbean seared ahi tuna marinated in sesame oil, with wasabi mashed potatoes and a tropical papaya salsa.”

  “If it’s going to be he condemned man’s final meal,” I said, “then hook me up with five or six steaks with some of those wasabi potatoes.”

  Alain regarded me like an infidel, as if I had just walked into his kitchen and rearranged everything. If he had been holding a gun at that very moment, I would be riddled with bullets.

  “It’s ok, Alain,” Superdynamic. “He’ll have what we’re having.”

  Nodding, the chef returned to the lift, flashing me a contemptuous glare as he dropped into the ground.

  “I could eat half a cow,” I shrugged.

  Rebecca stood and served us wine, watching me curiously the whole time.

  “No wonder you’re so big, Blackjack,” Superdynamic said, making her giggle.

  “Thanks,” I said as she finally poured me and set the bottle in the middle of the table before sitting down.

  “He’s very handsome,” she told him, as if I wasn’t in the room. “I can see what she sees in him.”

  I raised an eyebrow and acted sheepish.

  “But he looks like a homeless person.”

  I wondered if I had made any major mistakes as I ran my fingers through my newly cut hair.

  “You act different around women,” Superdynamic said.

  I looked over at Rebecca, who was studying me as if for her final exam.

  “He’s more charming, less defensive,” she said and reached over to take his hand, “Take off the silly costume, darling.”

  He took another drag on his wine and stood, walking to a far corner of the room that was morphing into another one of those showerhead thingies with an energy curtain. Stepping in, the armor peeled off his skin and just floated in the air, ready to come back on at a moment’s notice. The whole process took less than five seconds. He came back to the table wearing a suit more like mine, his face free of any protection.

  “This wine is pretty tasty,” I said.

  “Organic, made right here. Everything you’re going to eat is either grown or cultivated at the Tower, Mr. Blackjack,” she said, beaming with pride as Dr. de la Rocha had.

  “It’s okay, I’m flexible. This organic/vegetarian stuff can’t be too bad, right? Oh, and by the way, call me Dale.”

  She smiled.

  “So, what?” I continued. “We eat, then go to D.C.?”

  Talk of business immediately soured Rebecca’s expression, and I knew right there she was more than just a casual acquaintance. Superdynamic looked at her, his face still stern.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, noticing how downcast she had been. “I don’t mean to ruin the evening.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said, looking back at me. “But yeah, Dale’s right. After this we’ll have to go. The only question is whether he’s coming or not.”

  Before I could say anything, the lift came up with Alain and two of his staff in tow. They carried several trays, going around the table and serving piping hot bowls of soup.

  Rebecca thanked them, and after telling us “Bon appetite,” Alain and his crew were gone.

  I dug in, and I can’t say I enjoyed the soup much. The white beans were a little tasteless, and the sausage was too spicy, but I guess that’s what the dish was going for: the dichotomy of the two flavors. I did notice that Rebecca just toyed with her dish, taking only a few spoonfulls, and Superdynamic’s attention was mostly on her.

  “I’m coming,” I announced, figuring a strong stance would be a better bargaining point.

  Superdynamic smiled. “And how are you going to get there?”

  “I still have my boots,” I said. “I left them in my room ‘cause I didn’t want to ruin your fancy dinner.”

  He motioned toward one of the walls and something floated toward him from the dark reaches of the room. It was a small hover platform, atop which sat my boots.

  “You mean these?” he mocked, taking one and looking it over. It was a pathetic thing, my old, beat-up leather boot with the metal and wire frame that held the Odyssey’s rocket packs. In comparison to all his great designs and achievements, it looked like something a child had come up with.

  “Laugh all you want,” I said, soothing my own bruised ego. “But I built that in the desert out of junk parts and no tools. Hell, I was peeling wires with my teeth.”

  He gave it another glance and shrugged, as if he could do better with the working parts of a leaf blower.

  “I’m not sure this will work further. The throttle assemblies are shot, and one of the carburetors looks stuck, maybe melted closed.”

  “I’ll fix it.”

  “With what tools? With what spare parts?”

  I stood suddenly, enraged. He was holding the boots as if he meant to keep them from me, to destroy them, perhaps.

  “We gonna do it that way?” I said, and Superdynamic came to his feet, his jaw muscles clenched tight. As if realizing the escalation of the situation, Rebecca also stood, looking back at Superdynamic’s costume, too far away to help him now.

  “Please, Dale,” she said.

  “No,” I said, noticing how tightly I was clenching my fists, how heavy my breathing was. “You’re not keeping me back here just because you don’t like me. There’s too much at stake.”

  Alain popped up again, with his servants in tow. His crew either didn’t notice the tension or merely ignored it and started clearing the table of the soup and serving the salad. Alain himself saw us facing each other off, and very quietly helped his crew and returned to the lift.

  “Dale,” Rebecca said. “I’m sure Jeffrey’s just worried about your safety.”

  He snapped a look at her, angry that she had used his real name.

  “Oh, I knew your name was Jeff,” I said. “Or did you forget that Apogee used it back on Hashima?”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61