SG: Rad #96 (3/3): Taco

(continued from part two, preceding...)

***

Kirby zipped down the hallway leading to the _Vander Harkness's_
command center, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Rad, who had
blinked both of his eyes, gave Elizabeth a questioning look.
"He probably has the floor plan down by now," she said. "Both
authorized and unauthorized areas. Chalandra was going to give us the
tour, but this whole thing started just as we got to Los Requemados."
"I, like, thought you were going to, like, be at Eivandt's
barbeque..."
"Our plane got in late," Elizabeth answered. "And Chal and I had
some business to discuss, in addition to fun time. I figured we'd see
you tomorrow."
"This, like, your son's, like, first time out west?"
"First in a while," she replied. "Most trips I take, I can't
take him along... and he doesn't let me forget it. When do they grow
out of that part?"
"Like, when they, y'know, move out," said Rad. "Ian and, like,
Chelsea always, like, used to complain when, like, one of us, y'know,
had to go somewhere. Rumi, like, used to do the same thing, until,
like, we did, like, take her along. Like, here. To Earth, y'know?"
"Oh, yeah," said Elizabeth. "Glum was saying in her e-mail.
Rumi's been surly-girl all the way from Planet California to the state
of California. She cuttin' you any slack?"
Rad nodded. "Like, some, now that, like, we're here. Of course,
like, that'll only last, like, until she turns, y'know, sixteen..."
"...and becomes a legal adult in the eyes of the Ottsamaddawidu
Confederation and can live where she wants," Elizabeth finished. Her
eyes were still on the door through which Kirby had disappeared.
"Glum told me about that, too. You ready for that?"
Rad grinned and shook his head. "Like, not even close, babe.
But, like, it was like we couldn't, like, stay away any more, like,
y'know? Glum and I, like, love Planet California totally, but, like,
nothing ever, y'know, *happens* there."
"Whereas we have happenings up to our necks," Elizabeth said.
"Believe me, boredom on Planet California sounds really good some
days."
"So, like, why don't you..."
"Same reason you and Glum came back. You belong here. I belong
here. Plus, there's the whole Boston-war-zone-big-wall-around-the-
city thing that I'd like to do something about. And before you say
anything..."
Rad closed his mouth.
"...the reasons that Superguys outside Boston can't intervene
still apply. The reasons that extra-solar civilizations won't
intervene also still apply, I'm given to understand."
"Like---"
His sentence was interrupted by a massive 'crash' sound from the
direction of the command center.
"That had so better not be Kirby," said Elizabeth, as she started
running.
Rad flew past her, almost not giving the fast-sliding doors time
enough to admit him. On re-entering the command center, he found
Kirby, plus those he had talked with on his initial arrival on the
_Vander Harkness_--Chalandra Harkness, Yury Mitsuke, Iris Adams, and
China Moroboshi. There was an enormous hole in the ceiling where had
been the irising portal that had admitted him. Several chunks of
metal were either on the floor or held upright by the walls of the
cubicles into which they had fallen. Shaken cubicle dwellers huddled
by the espresso and vending machines.
"Young man," said a familiar voice. "What do we *say* when we
accidentally destroy an airlock?"
Rad saw Key Li Pan bending down, a finger and a thumb firmly
holding an earlobe of five-year-old Johnny Clark. Johnny, whom Rad
had earlier seen casually juggling anvils and sharks, seemed unable to
resist as Key pulled him in this manner toward Chalandra.
"But, mooooommmmmm," Johnny complained. "The doors didn't open
faaaast enough... maaaaaa!"
"What do we say, Johnny?"
"I'm... I'm sorry, Aunt Chalandra!"
Chalandra knelt before the boy, who looked more distressed about
facing her than about his earlobe being pinched. She waited, looking
at him without evident emotion, until he could look back at her.
"I accept your apology, Johnathan," she said. "You will take
greater care next time in flying toward a wall or a dome, won't you?"
"I... I will!"
"Then why don't you go with your mother to the play are---"
"My anvil!" Johnny exclaimed. He looked wildly about. "Where'd
my anvil go?"
"I don't---" Key started.
Johnny took off, running along the rows of cubicles. His
progress was easy to follow, as cubicle workers jumped out of the way
and cubicle walls made crunching noises as they broke.
"We're losing monitors," China noted, from her security
workstation. "Could someone please maybe stop him before his stomping
around takes out any more important wires?"
"It's too bad you'll have to stay here," said Yury, who was
looking at Key. Key looked back, annoyance crossing her comely
features. "I don't think the play area they have set up is
awesomeantium-reinforced."
"You'd just love that, wouldn't you?" Key asked. "Who's going to
keep Kent from plowing into a power plant during a battle? You?"
"I bet I could."
"How? By burning his suit off?"
"Now that you mention it..."
"I knew it!" Key exclaimed. "You just want to take him away from
me, like you used to steal my boyfriends. You think he can be just
another Hollywood scandal to advance your career!"
"That's not true!" Yury replied. Flames flickered from her hair
and parts of her flameproof red leather outfit. "Who got you to come
back from Korea to marry him in the first place?"
"You did," Key admitted. "But only so you could break us up
later."
"When did I ever say that?" Yury asked.
"Ma'am," interrupted Iris, her personal assistant. "We did
discuss it last year. You decided against it because it was unlikely
that he could stick to script, and also because of the high likelihood
of personal injury..."
"I was joking!" Yury exclaimed, on seeing how dark Key's face was
getting. "Okay, I was kind of pissed off because you wouldn't come
back to do _Super Life 4,_ but I thought she could tell..."
"It's true," Iris said. "I can never tell."
"I wouldn't come back because I have a life!" Key retorted. "A
life that no longer includes you every single minute of every day!"
She and Yury were now standing less than an inch apart, hands
clenched into fists, glaring into one another's eyes. Somewhere
behind them, a collection of cubicle walls crumbled, and computer
monitors went flying. Some workers looked panicked, but others seemed
more focused on the confrontation before them, looks of anticipation
straining their features.
"Like, babes," said Rad, as he stepped up toward them. Though he
doubted they would intentionally hurt him, he willed his psychokinetic
power to shield his body. "Whatever is, like, going on, like, between
you two, it's time, like, to forgive and forget and move on and, like,
stuff, y'know?"
"She left me!" Yury yelled.
"She was smothering me!" Key yelled.
"Where's my anvil?!" Johnny yelled.
"Over here!" Kirby yelled.
"Kirby!" Elizabeth yelled.
"Like, people change, Yury," said Rad. "Like, grow. Move on.
You can't, like, treat them like, y'know, actors that exist, like,
only to fill a role, y'know, in your life. Sometimes, like, you've
got to, y'know, let them go, and, like, trust that, like, they'll come
back, like, when they can."
"Yeah," said Key, tilting her head up a bit.
"And you ought to give Yury some credit, Key," said Chalandra,
who was standing on the side of the Key-Yury confrontation opposite
Rad. "You were gone for several years. She had ample opportunity to
seduce him then, but never took it. And I think you know why."
"That's not my anvil!" Johnny yelled.
"What about this one, then?" Kirby called.
Key and Yury, oblivious to the anvil-based drama being played out
elsewhere in the command center, looked hesitantly at one another.
"I'm sorry," Yury ventured, her voice barely audible, the flames
that had been rising from her hair vanishing. "I... I just..."
"I know," said Key. "I'm sorry, too."
They embraced. Several of the workers around them clapped.
Several others were recording with their cell phone cameras--though
they immediately stopped after Chalandra gave them pointed looks.
"Not bad," said Elizabeth, as Rad stepped away to give them some
room. "I know Chal used to be a therapist with the government, but
when did you learn to make with the insight?"
Rad grinned. "Like, school of life."
Elizabeth waited.
"And... and, like, 'Finding Nemo,' Liz."
"Don't call me... well, okay, *you* can call me that," said
Elizabeth. They looked back at Key and Yury, who were now whispering
to one another. "Glad that's finally resolved. Now we can, you know,
take care of that little matter at Dodger Stadium."
"Speaking of which," said China, "something big's happening at
the stadium. Take a look."
Rad, Elizabeth, and China peered at the large monitor at China's
station. It showed the same picture of a well-lit nighttime Dodger
Stadium as before. Now, however, the bronze-gold nectarisite 'lake'
that filled the baseball-playing area pulsed.
In the center, something was rising. A long and circular
projection, not unlike the barrel of a large gun. As they watched,
the base of the barrel rose past the level of the nectarisite lake,
and what was beneath it began to emerge. It appeared to be a cone
covered with rococo ornamentation. As its diameter grew, Rad became
increasingly concerned.
"Like, whoah," he said, distilling the essence of his
apprehension.
"What is that?" asked Yury. She was now next to him, with Key
next to her, arm around her waist. They crowded around China's
station with him and Elizabeth.
"Big thing," China replied. "Badly decorated. Coming through
the metallic lake at Dodger Stadium. Probably not season ticket
holders. Mighty Guy, Manny, Bada... Guido, and Templar are on the
scene."
"What about other area superguys?" Elizabeth asked.
China shook her head. "I've been trying to reach the West Coast
Defenders, Commander Frank, or anyone else on the open superguy
frequencies. Communications are being jammed, and one guess as to
where the jamming is coming from."
"We oughta get out there, before someone gets hurt," Key said.
"We're not sure it has hostile intentions," Liz noted.
"I wasn't talking about that," Key replied. "Kent's out there,
remember?"
"Oh... right. You'd better go."
"Great to see you again, Liz," Key said, giving her a brief hug.
"Yeah," said Yury. "I didn't even know you were here yet.
Thought you wouldn't be getting in until tomorrow." She turned to Key
and grinned.
"Like old times, right?" she asked.
"Let's go break something," Key replied, grinning back. "I...
oh, right. Johnny! Where are you?"
"Speaking of rogue pre-adolescents," said Elizabeth, "where's
Kirby?"
At that moment, Johnny Clark emerged from a still-intact cubicle
corridor, juggling five anvils. Kirby zipped around him, occasionally
running up and over the flying anvils as if they were stairs.
"I found my anvil," Johnny reported. "And four more, just lying
around!"
Chalandra saw this, and stepped away from where she had been
conferring with a technician.
"Four anvils, lying around?" she asked. "I... how? Why?"
"Monthly meeting of the Anvil Club," China told her.
"I mean the real reason."
"It's on the company calendar," said China. "That's mine with
the skulls and flames on it."
Johnny caught one of the anvils in his hands, and soon had all
five in a stack, with Kirby on top. The anvil with the skulls and
flames was the second from the top, and fairly impressive to Rad. The
others, from top to bottom, were a checkerboard-painted anvil, a
psychedelic day-glo anvil, an anvil featuring many different pictures
of Ryan Seacrest, and an anvil painted like a WWII bomber--with a
cheesecake-y Yury on the nose. Yury saw this last one and grinned.
"Anvil club, then," said Chalandra.
"Anvil club," China replied.
"I don't suppose the first rule of Anvil Club is you don't talk
about Anvil Club, is it?"
"Um, no..."
"Then make it so."
"Johnny," said Key. "Set the anvils down---"
A huge crash rolled through the command center.
"--gently. Oh, dear..."
"I hate to say it, Key," Chalandra said, "but I'm not sure if we
can survive an unsupervised Johnny Clark. If you could stay in
reserve..."
"Excuse me, ma'am," Iris Adams interrupted. Chalandra, Rad, and
everyone else in the immediate vicinity turned their attention to the
petite, blue-and-white pantsuit-clad woman, who had stayed quiet since
her employer's confrontation with Key. "I used to be a nanny for a
while. I could watch the young Mister Clark... if it's also okay with
Miss Mitsuke."
"Works for me," said Yury. "Give yourself a raise when you get a
chance."
"Um," said Key. "What?" Rad suspected that Key, voiced wishes
to the contrary, had not really expected anyone could watch her son
while she went into battle.
"Hello, Johnny," said Iris. "I'm Miss Adams. I could show you
some other games you can play with these anvils, without disturbing
these folks. Would you like that?"
Johnny looked at his mother, who nodded. "Okay!" he exclaimed,
and quickly gathered up the anvils. "Is it how far I can throw them?"
"More of a logic game," Iris replied, her voice imperturbable
and, inexplicably, now slightly British-accented. "Come along, then,
we'll find a space where we can play..."
"Try conference room three," China suggested. "Don't mind the
table, it's ugly and needs breaking anyway."
"Right, then," said Iris. "Come along then, Mister Clark."
Johnny, to Rad's surprise, gently accepted Iris's hand and let
her lead him and his re-stacked anvils away.
"Now that that's done," said Elizabeth, "Kirby... Kirby, where
did you go?"
"Dude was, like, here a minute ago, y'know?" Rad said, when
Elizabeth gave him a questioning look.
"He'll turn up, I'm sure," said Yury. Elizabeth seemed reluctant
to agree, then nodded. "Okay, then. Enough yabbering about here.
Let's go hit something."
Rad needed no further encouragement. He, Key, and Yury took off
through the partially-repaired hole in the roof and into the night
sky. Their ears were immediately assaulted with the roaring sound of
the engines, something not audible inside the command center, despite
the torn dome-top. Another feature no doubt designed by Bhossi and
Cla'rabhele, Rad thought.
The top of the flying, H-shaped metal block that was the _Vander
Harkness_ was not as active as it had been when Rad and Yury had first
arrived. All the VTOL jets were gone, all but one of the helicopters
were gone, and no one was driving around or being outfitted with a jet
pack. Rad guessed everyone who could get airborne had already done
so, and everyone else had orders to get below decks.
He followed Key and Yury further away from the _Vander Harkness_,
until they passed the outer edge of the exterior noise containment
field. The tremendous engine sounds fell away to the typical sounds
of Los Angeles at night--car horns, sirens, gunshots, the rush of the
ocean--and some much less typical.
They had gotten within visual range of Dodger Stadium during
their time on the _Vander Harkness_, Rad saw. What they now could see
was much like the screen had earlier shown. Dodger Stadium was filled
with a bronze-gold metal lake that glowed in the light projected by
the stadium's banks of powerful lamps. In the lit parking lot, a
number of figures moved toward two helicopters that had set down, and
from the considerable gunfire he heard, he guessed that his friend
Guido, the onetime Badass, was in the vicinity. Jet, jetpack, and
helicopter noise was all around, though Rad could not immediately see
those generating it.
What had started rising from the nectarisite lake that covered
Dodger Stadium's field was now over a hundred feet tall and still
rising. Its sides near its base were getting close to the railings
that separated the still-undamaged seats of the stadium from the
field. Numerous ostentatious rococo curlicues and swooshes gave the
rising object a surprisingly tacky look.
"It's like we're being attacked by something from the Hidden
Empire's garage sale," Yury noted. "That big thing they try to get
rid of every year, that they got from their blind grandmother."
At that moment, a massive bolt of electric energy vaulted from
the nose of the rising object into the darkness above. The bolt was
thick and jagged, and washed everyone and everything around it in
blinding brightness for a moment before vanishing. Far above, they
heard something explode.
"Time to bring the hurt," said Key. "Who's ready?"
"Like, yo," Rad replied, letting psychokinetic power build in his
arms and hands.
They waited.
"Like, Yury?"
"I'm trying to think of a line," Yury replied. "It's hard
without a script." She then shook her head, as if realizing what she
was saying. "Never mind. Let's toast this taco!"

WILL THE HIDDEN EMPIRE'S TACO BE TOASTED?
WHAT SORT OF FUNKY ACTION IS GOING ON IN DODGER STADIUM'S PARKING LOT?
WILL SOMEONE DARE TALK ABOUT ANVIL CLUB?
WILL SHADEBEAM HELP RUMI?
WILL ROOG DO HIS DUTY?
WILL LEMON PUT ON PANTS?
HOW LOW ARE THE ADMISSIONS STANDARDS OF THE MIB THESE DAYS?
IS ERASMUS FANCY WORKING FOR THEM?
WHAT ABOUT RYAN SEACREST?
WILL THE NEXT EPISODE CONTAIN SOME ACTUAL PLOT ADVANCEMENT, OR AT
LEAST MORE STUFF GOING BOOM?

Find out some of this and some other stuff in the next oblique
episode, only on... SUPERGUY!

And now, Kenny G.
--
Gary W. Olson
swede at novitious dot com
Superguy LJ Community: http://community.livejournal.com/superguy_list/

SG: Rad #96 (2/3): This

(continued from part one, preceding...)

"Like, a civilization below?" Rad asked.
"I asked the same thing," said Elizabeth. "If there's something
like that underground, why have we never had contact? Then these two
hooked me up to their machine back there..."
Rad looked into the room from which Elizabeth had come. He could
see what appeared to be a well-padded dentist's chair, a salon hair
dryer, and several poles with spiraling lights.
"...and suddenly I could sense them," Elizabeth continued. "The
highway below... the city... it was amazing!"
"But you, like, found Glum," Rad prompted.
"Not exactly," Elizabeth replied, frowning a bit. "I found
Cendra Seconds. The effect of the machine, if I understand Bhossi
correctly, is to get through the encryption on the telepathic cloaking
field that obscures this underground network from the sensitives of
the surface world. But even with that, I didn't have enough power to
do more than see fragments and pick up stray thoughts. If Cendra
wasn't a telepath, too, I might not have found her."
"But you did find her," Dr. Gigawatt prompted. "What did she
tell you?"
"She, Eivandt, Glum, and Miguel were overwhelmed and taken away
by a bunch of people pretending to be zombies," Elizabeth replied.
"They were stronger than they appeared. Cendra awoke on the bus just
as it was pulling into the Dodger Stadium parking lot. Some of the
zombies got out, some guys dressed in black fatigues got on, and then
a whole square section descended into the earth. After a while, they
arrived at this secret base, where they disembarked. The Programmer
was there, though he arrived separately. Also, there was another bus
with people pretending to be ninjas, and they had Tom McCavish-
Laffalot with them."
"But Rumi---"
"She wasn't with them," Elizabeth said. "Nor was Alice, nor
Miguel's younger brother, Esteban. Miguel was apparently the actual
target of the pseudo-zombie raid, and once he succumbed, they took him
and whomever else they'd already overwhelmed and retreated to their
bus. Esteban, Rumiko, and Alice should have been at the apartment
when you were there."
"But, like, they weren't."
"I've been told Esteban has clear instructions on where to go if
something happens," said Elizabeth. "In order, Mrs. Busey's next
door, Cendra's parents' house, Templar's studio, Hal's restaurant, and
'the Den,' wherever and whatever that is."
"Like, Miguel is, like, a werewolf, y'know?"
"I didn't," said Elizabeth. She shrugged. "Not that that helps
any. They weren't at the apartment next door, or at the Seconds
house. If they're at Templar's studio, they're not picking up the
phone, and Hal says they haven't shown up at his place. That leaves
'the Den.' Cendra was going to tell me how to get in touch when we
were cut off."
*The equipment failed?* Bhossi asked. *It is still in the
experimental stage...*
Elizabeth shook her head. "Cendra... changed. It was very
strange. Right when she cut off, I had the impression that she'd
changed into... a bird."
Rad nodded. "Eivandt, like, said that, like, sometimes happens
to her. Like, magic or something."
"But... the Bluebird of Happiness?"
Rad shrugged. It seemed the safest response to that kind of
question.
*Did you glean any mention of Erasmus Fancy?* Cla'rabhele
inquired.
Elizabeth shook her head again.
"Like, who is, like, Erasmus Fancy?"
*A being regarded by the Hidden Empire as an arch-criminal
mastermind,* thought Bhossi. *He has a unique understanding of many
matters the Hidden Empire considers of prime importance. He is the
only reason the Hidden Empire would openly attempt to cross from their
dimension to ours via a massive nectarisite gateway. As he is known
to prefer deep underground hideouts, we inferred that his base of
operations would be deep underground. Clearly, the Empire has
determined his location, and has created a portal as close to his base
as possible. It is only a surface portal because to open a portal
beneath the surface, at the location of the base, would be a
declaration of war.*
*War with Terra Subterrene,* Cla'rabhele clarified. *The
civilizations living beneath the surface of the Earth. They are not
ready for such a confrontation. So, though it is a risky maneuver,
they appear ready to come through the nectarisite portal and then
somehow effect the capture of Erasmus Fancy.*
"One more thing," said Elizabeth. "The base appears to currently
belong to the Mega-Intelligence Bureau, or at least a group that is
convinced that it is the M.I.B., the reputed dissolution of that group
notwithstanding. The Secret Secret Agent in charge of operations
there is Dana Wader."
"Like, whoah!" Rad exclaimed. "When did she, like, join the
M.I.B.?"
"No idea," Elizabeth admitted. "Doesn't speak well for their
current standards of admission, though."
"Totally," Rad agreed. "I've, like, heard all I need to, like,
y'know? I think it's, like, time to get to Dodger Stadium and, like,
kick some gluteus maximus!"
"I'll work from here," said Elizabeth, "and see if I can pinpoint
where the elevator shaft leading to the underground lair is." She
looked around. "Kirby, are you in here?"
No one answered.
"Kirby!"
*He is here,* said Bhossi. After a pause, she added, in low
tones, *Somewhere.*
*Even our advanced super-science cannot track him,* Cla'rabhele
noted. *It is most... vexing.*
"What?" said a voice behind Rad. "I'm right here!"
A sandy-haired boy of eight or nine pushed between Rad and Dr.
Gigawatt. Parts of him blurred as he moved. His red t-shirt and blue
jean shorts had stains that were black, neon green, and an odd form of
plaid. Rad noticed that the gargantuan brains of Bhossi and
Cla'rabhele seemed to pulse as they saw the stains.
"What... have you been in, Kirby?" Elizabeth asked.
"I was just checking out Bhossi's chemistry lab, mom," said
Kirby, a grin on his young face. "It's so cool! And don't worry, I
already cleaned up the broken glass."
*And what of the tentacles in Pod B?* asked Cla'rabhele.
"They helped!" Kirby replied.
Rad had never seen the brain of a cow turn pale before.
Cla'rabhele immediately rushed off, floating through a doorway and out
of sight, her clipboard and pencil trailing behind. Moments later,
the theramin music that had been playing in the background changed to
smooth, saxophone-type jazz music.
*Ahhh, Kenny G,* thought Bhossi, with evident approval. *Almost
sublime in his mathematical perfection. Whenever I feel regret at
having left the underground realms for the surface, I listen to him
and know that I have made the right choice.*
"You, like, don't prefer that, like, y'know, theramin stuff?"
*It irritates my nerves,* Bhossi replied. *Cla'rabhele insists
on it. Says it is a professional standard in our 'line,' whatever she
means by that. As if having a massively brain-engorged cranium means
you automatically have to have that whiny crap on in the background
all the time. Were it not that the music of Kenny G has also proven
able to keep some of our more outre experiments docile, I am certain
Cla'rabhele would not countenance the playing of it at all.*
Rad decided it would be more diplomatic to just shrug.
***

***

Rumi found it not difficult to distinguish where Burning-M00se-
to-be ended and the town of Malaga began. She also found it easy to
distinguish where the town of Malaga ended and a whole lot of empty
desert began--with only the light from the construction and two
streetlights to assist--and was unimpressed that these boundaries were
within easy sight of one another. The town of Malaga consisted, so
far as she could see, of five ranch-style stucco houses, a gas
station, and a building that--according to its sign--combined the
functions of a post office, a general store, a library, a city hall, a
sheriff's office, a chapel, and, on Wednesdays, a barber shop.
"Slith and I run that, mainly," Shadebeam said, indicating the
multi-function building. "We don't have a sheriff, though. Sometimes
a trooper from Amesville drives through, though never during Burning
M00se time. I'm the Mayor, believe it or not, and Slithis is our
official postmaster, a job that sometimes requires almost ten minutes
a day of actual work."
"How many people live here?" Rumi asked.
"Year-round," said Shadebeam, "eleven. Including Slith and
myself." She looked back at the preparations for Burning M00se.
"More for the month leading up to and the month following all that.
For the actual five days of the event, we're expecting upwards of
ten thousand this year."
"Where do they all stay?"
"Tents, sleeping bags, whatever they can haul in that doesn't
have a motor. Many sleep wherever they can, whenever their bodies
force them to. If they sleep at all."
"And you?"
"Right here," Shadebeam replied, pointing to an undistinguished
stucco house on the empty side of the Malaga town border. Rumi
noticed a building in the distance beyond it, made hard-to-miss by the
lamp that shed light on its parking lot. "The town bar," Shadebeam
said, before she could ask. "Friend of ours, Chopper Alvarez, runs
that now. Fred Appleby sold out to him a few years ago and moved up
to Amesville to live with his nephew's family. It also doubles as a
Church of Radian, though Chop's one of the few members of that
wayward branch of belief these days. About all it means is that
Sunday is Ladies' Night, instead of Monday."
"Is that where..."
"Where your Aunt Akane and I surrendered to one metric fuckload
of Authority, back in the days when we were the top fugitives on
Earth." Shadebeam shook her head. "Some days, I can hardly believe
it even happened."
They walked for nearly a minute in silence.
"Aunt Shadebeam---"
"Not yet," Shadebeam interrupted. "Wait 'till we get inside."
Rumi bit her lip. She was tired of waiting, but she had only a
few yards further to go.
She considered the house they were passing. In outward form, it
resembled the four other houses, with three windows facing the road,
a door, and a satellite dish on the roof. As with the others, its
lawn consisted of cracked desert rock, a bit of brush, and a mailbox.
Unlike the others, the windows showed what looked like the bridge of a
massive starship, in which short, three-legged, silver-skinned beings
were having some sort of argument concerning a hand-held instrument of
sinister and invasive design.
"Um..." Rumi commented. "Are those Vralaxans in that house?"
"No," said Shadebeam, who gave no look to the house. "Those are
images of Vra... those guys you said... in the window. That's the
Rydell house. They got as a gift some new windows from an
Ottsamaddawiduan engineering team a couple years back. They don't
always show that particular scene. Sometimes it's an alien landscape
and something disturbing involving leprechauns. Sometimes it's line-
dancing armadillos. And other stuff. A lot of people look at the
house, but at the same time, no one looks *in.*"
"Like their privacy?"
"Cheryl Rydell does," Shadebeam replied. "Sometimes. As for her
son... he doesn't seem to worry about that too much. As you saw."
Rumi remembered, and smirked.
"They're good people," said Shadebeam, "but they got their ways
about 'em. 'Course, same can be said about any of us who live out
here all year 'round, but...." She let the sentence trail off, and
shrugged. "Just be careful of Lemon."
"What do you mean?"
"He's a good kid... for some value of the word 'good,' anyway.
But he doesn't always think before he does something. 'Least, not
about what you or I might. Stuff like, 'hey, that shiny thing there
belongs to someone else, I shouldn't take it,' or 'hey, I don't know
what will happen if I add this stuff to that, so I shouldn't dump it
in,' or 'hey, there are people around, maybe I should put some pants
on.' Like that."
Despite the words, Rumi could detect no actual tone of
disapproval from Shadebeam. In fact, she sounded slightly defensive,
as if talking about herself.
"He's not usually careful about looking before leaping,"
Shadebeam went on. "Or who he gets to jump along with 'im. Just be
careful, 'swhat I'm sayin'."
"You're warning me because..."
"Because he smiled at you." Shadebeam looked at the last of the
windows of the Rydell house, currently displaying the line-dancing
armadillos. "A smile like that don't lead no place good."
Now Shadebeam sounded like she was talking about someone else--
someone who had burned her in the past. Rumi silently digested the
warning, and found herself curious as to exactly what Shadebeam was
warning against. But there were more important things at stake at the
moment.
"Aaaand here we are," said Shadebeam, as they reached the porch
of a house nearly identical to the Rydell house, save that the windows
appeared to be ordinary glass. "My home for the last six years. Mind
the hellbeast."
On opening the door, something whooshed out. Its tar-black
oozing exterior was an abomination against all reason, as were its
multiplicity of red eyes, its slavering, toothsome maw, and its
ichor-dripping tentacles. The horror of its appearance was mitigated
in some part by its size, which was that of a basketball.
"Tek!" it yapped. "Tek tek tek! Tek! Tek!" It spun around
several times, then rubbed against Rumi's leg. Rumi grinned, reached
down into an area where several tentacles writhed, and started
scratching. The hideous hellbeast panted with pleasure.
"Wow," said Shadebeam. "Most people take a while to adjust... if
they don't run."
"I had a hellbeast pet when I was a kid," Rumi explained, as she
shifted her scratching to beneath what, so far as she could tell, was
the creature's chin. "What's his name?"
"Roog," Shadebeam answered. "He was abandoned a couple years
back. Believe it or not, that's his adult size. The experts I talked
to think he's some kind of shoggoth-ish equivalent of a pomeranian."
"Tek!" Roog yapped. "Tek tek!" He spun around some more, and
resumed slavering.
"Hey!" Shadebeam exclaimed, and clapped her hands. "No slavering
in the house!"
Roog, unfazed by the attempt at discipline, spun around a couple
times and yapped again. Shadebeam sighed, then headed into the
kitchen. Roog followed, and Rumi heard a door open and close.
The lamp-lit room she was in was large, and Rumi suspected that
it had once been several rooms. There were four columns and a waist-
high wall around a set of stairs leading to a basement. Bookshelves
lined nearly every wall, and were filled with books, DVDs,
videocassettes, lamps, and knick-knacks. Chairs of every kind seemed
randomly distributed next to lamp-bearing tables, around the three
computers she saw, and in front of the large-screen TV in what three
fluffy couches demarked as a rec area. The floor was bare wood, and
possibly had been polished some time in the previous decade, though
Rumi would not have cared to place a bet on that. There were two
doors in the wall opposite the kitchen doorway--one to a bathroom that
appeared to be reasonably neat, one to a bedroom that could make no
such claim.
"Right, Roog is hopefully doing his duty," said Shadebeam, as she
re-entered the room. "So, before you explode or something, tell me
about this dream vision you had with my sister in it."
Rumi gaped.
"What---"
"I may not be the sorceress I used to be," said Shadebeam, as she
paused to light a cigarette, "but I still got eyes. Particularly if
it's something my sis is involved in. I can see her in your brain
haze."
Rumi, who had not been aware that her brain haze was showing,
decided now was an appropriate time to make use of the nearest random
chair. She sat down in a pillowy wicker chair, while Shadebeam poured
herself something amber-colored.
"That's kind of what you see when you look at Slithis, by the
way," Shadebeam said, as she spiked her drink with something green.
"'Brain haze' is just slang for the thaumaturgic haze that just about
anything living generates. Magical energies. The raw stuff that
powers spells and crap like that. Anyone who uses magic can sense it
on some level--they have to, really--though actually using vision on
it is kinda rare. Makes it hard to get around when all you see is
funky swirly crap in front of you."
Rumi had to ask. "How did Slithis's scales get like that?"
Shadebeam sat down, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other.
In the lamplight, she seemed older, somehow, as if the desert had left
a mark that her sister Akane had not received.
"About seven years ago," Shadebeam said, "I was living in
Berkeley, California, in an apartment I shared with my brother Kaoru.
I was just getting out of the shower one day when I got abducted to
an entirely different altiverse--Sfstory, it's called--by a spam-
powered cosmic machine too stupid to describe. Because this altiverse
was basically inhospitable to magic, my magic got left at the door. I
went through epic-scale crap I won't even get into right now, save to
say by the end I was hooked up with Slith, and was being sent back to
this altiverse by the same stupid cosmic machine. Both Slith and I
appeared where I'd been abducted from, about a split-second after I
left. I reabsorbed my magic, for the most part, but Slithis took a
few hits as well--with the effects you saw tonight. It doesn't hurt
him, though he has to do some exercises I taught him to keep from
losing too much energy to it."
"Is that how you stopped being... um... the sorceress you used to
be?"
"Nah," said Shadebeam. "That was a year later. Kaoru'd given up
the detective racket and gone back to Japan--he hosts this game show
now that's big in the ratings and involves naked sumo wrestlers and
assorted fish parts--and Slith and I were traveling around the
country, trying to sort out what we wanted to do with our lives, and I
get this idea... 'hey, want to see where Akane and I turned ourselves
in?' I think I may have been a bit ripped at the time." She paused
and sipped. "So, we got out here, took the five-second tour... and
then I sensed it. Out in the desert."
"Sensed what?"
Shadebeam set her drink down on a nearby coaster, then leaned
forward.
"The elevator."
Rumi waited.
"Big damn elevator. Right inside this huge hunk of rock.
Crawling with energy. No idea why I never sensed it the last time I
was around. So what do I do?"
Rumi knew what she would have done. "You touched it."
"I touched it," Shadebeam confirmed. "Knocked me right the hell
out. When I woke up, about half my magic was gone, and I knew a lot
more about where that elevator used to go than was good for my sanity.
If LeviaM00se hadn't intervened..."
"Who's that?"
Shadebeam absently waved her cigarette-bearing hand. "Old dude.
Got antlers on him. Said he was the living incarnation of m00siness,
bla bla bla, here's what you got to do to keep from going mad and to
keep the elevator drained of power, bla bla bla, big-ass wooden
pyramid on fire, bla bla bla, and thus was Burning M00se started."
"That's... um..."
"Kind of fucked up?"
"I was going to say 'weird,' but sure."
"It's not so bad," said Shadebeam, "save for the part where I
can't leave Malaga for very long, or I start slavering and yapping
like Roog. I can go as far as I want, but if I'm not back in a couple
days, I'm all 'swallow your soul, swallow your soul.'"
"That sucks," Rumi opined.
"Tell me about it," said Shadebeam. "Souls taste worse than
tofu."
Rumi smirked. Shadebeam took a couple more puffs on her
cigarette.
"Still, it's not a bad life," she said. "I've learned to listen
to the desert, to the silence... and it's changed me, I think, even
more than that elevator." Her eyes met Rumi's, and Rumi tried to
imagine her in the emptiness, with silence all around. It was not
easy; Shadebeam, to her, seemed the kind of person who could find hell
to raise even in desolation. "Slith... the desert's almost like home
to him. Best of all, just when the isolation starts getting too much,
gobs of people come swarming in for three months of noise and chaos."
"That's cool," Rumi opined.
"You gonna be here this year?"
Rumi nodded.
"Good for you," Shadebeam said, a smile leavening her expression.
"Just be sure that if someone asks you if you want a nice Hawaiian
Punch, they know what's in it. More importantly, who made it."
"O... kay."
"Seriously. If the punch was brewed by this guy called the
Hawaiian... well, it depends on how you feel about, say, waking up
naked on a giant n-dimensional trampoline with an overwhelming
paranoid certainty that at any minute, twelve-foot-tall blue people
from the center of the earth will surround you and attempt to teach
you to hula." She paused, looked away, and smiled. "Man, that was a
good year." She shook her head.
"Enough procrastination," Shadebeam continued. "I brought you
here for a reason--namely, the magic shields on this house are of the
strength and kind that it's the one place you can talk freely about my
sister and call her Akane instead of 'Miranda.'"
"Do you know where she is?" Rumi asked.
"Nope," said Shadebeam. "Don't want to, either. Less I know,
less I can reveal to a telepath or sorcerer powerful enough to get
past my shields." She took another sip of her drink, then set it down
again. "It's funny, you know? She voluntarily withdrew from the
world with her man, and I got kind of involuntarily withdrawn from the
world with mine. It's like, even apart, we're still mirrors of one
another." She shrugged. "So it goes. Talk."
Rumi took a breath. The urgency she had felt to talk to
Shadebeam had vanished as soon as they had entered her house, and at
last she knew why. The vision had been powerful and sublime, and
setting it to words would rob it, somehow, of what made it special.
Until that moment, Rumi had not realized she held that strange
experience so close, and wondered that she had not felt that way while
it was happening.
But it had to be told.
She took another breath, then started.

(continued in part three, following...)
--
Gary W. Olson
swede at novitious dot com
http://gwox.livejournal.com

SG: Rad #96: Let's Toast

RAD
Episode 96
[ Rad Returns, Part Six of Ten ]
"Let's Toast This Taco"
by
Gary W. Olson

***

Around Rumiko Moroboshi, in the midst of what otherwise was a hot
and empty expanse of nighttime desert, something was being built.
Numerous structures were in various stages of construction, including
at least two that were disorienting just to look at, given how they
were physical representations of the kind of mind-benders found
commonly in the works of M.C. Escher, Salvador Dali, and Jim Beam.
Crews she recognized at Ottsamaddawiduan and Dalan mixed freely with
human men and women as they planned and worked. Nearby,
Ottsamaddawiduan engineers worked on what appeared to be a giant,
drink-serving mechanical spider, while close by, an underground-
burrowing vehicle's large drill was spinning down. In the distance,
she saw what looked like a prehistoric giant with a ragged, multi-
colored beard helping a crew construct a fifty-five foot tall antler-
bearing wooden pyramid.
She was at Burning M00se, the annual gathering held in and around
the otherwise almost imperceptible town of Malaga, New Mexico. More
accurately, she was there while preparations were underway--the
actual event being weeks distant. Only earlier that afternoon, she
had voiced her intent to attend, though she had not expected to be
around that very evening.
Esteban Veracruz had brought her here, this much she knew. She
had awoken on a blanket in this very spot, where several paths through
the organized chaos of construction intersected. Esteban was with
her, as was Shadebeam Moroboshi--one of her only two aunts who were
actually official Aunts as opposed to the informal and honorary kind--
and a Reptiloid identified to her as Slithis. Under other
circumstances, she might have been pleased.
But not right *now.*
"Okay, to repeat," Rumi said. "I was in Los Angeles, California,
when I was last awake. I'm in New Mexico now. What am I doing in New
Mexico?"
Shadebeam Moroboshi took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaled,
and looked at Esteban. Esteban looked from her to Rumi and back
again.
"I told you," he said, an earnest look in his brown eyes. "I had
nowhere else to go. Mrs. Busey wasn't around, Cendra's mom and dad
were kidnapped, there was no answer at Templar's or Hal's... so I came
here."
"Hundreds of miles away," Shadebeam noted. "And don't tell me
you flew all that way, because we both know you didn't."
Before Esteban could work up an answer--and he was working it up,
Rumi saw, his hesitation and apprehension clearly signaled by his
expression--a metallic being shaped like a bonobo poked his head out
from Esteban's backpack and waved. In its tiny paw were pages of what
Rumi recognized as the diary of Esteban's great-grandfather. In
particular, she saw the image that had formed the basis of an
extremely lucid dream-slash-vision, in which she had been above a
Central American jungle, in the midst of a freeze-frame of a battle
involving a massive, rococo-styled airship and a mysterious Mayan
temple. Within said dream-slash-vision, she had had a long
conversation with Akane Moroboshi, her not-so-dead other official
Aunt, who also happened to be Shadebeam's twin.
The bonobo, whose name was Coco, climbed up onto Esteban's
shoulder and shuffled the pages. He saw everyone watching, grinned,
and waved his arms.
*It's maaaaagic,* Coco telepathically sent, his voice still like
that of a young boy who had snuck a hit from the nitrous oxide tank.
Esteban grinned, then immediately lost said grin. He looked at
Shadebeam, wondering if she had heard Coco. Rumi doubted it; Esteban
had said that even Cendra, who was a telepath, could not hear Coco.
Rumi believed she could only hear the bonobo because of her
bioelectric contact with the nectarisite that was the substance of not
only Coco but also Los Pantalones, Esteban's armored battle-pants.
Strange, she thought, that the link had not yet faded.
Esteban sighed, and appeared to come to a decision.
"I used a portal stone," he said. "I know I'm not supposed to
have any, and they're only for emergencies, but this was an
emergency!"
"They're for the Radians to use in emergencies," Shadebeam said.
"You're not one, and it'll be a few years before you can be one."
"What are Radians?" Rumi asked. Aunt Akane had gone by the code
name Radian when she had been a superguy, and what had eventually
happened during that time had made the word 'Radian,' on Earth and in
considerable parts of the galaxy beyond, a byword for 'holy crap, this
person is going to destroy everything.'
"Security during Burning M00se," said Slithis. "Volunteers who
go around helping people out, resolving disputes--peacefully, if at
all possible--and ejecting people who either insist on being violent
or on attempting to do something to someone else without their
consent. 'Radians' wasn't her idea for what to call them, it just
sort of stuck after the first year."
Rumi's attention was quickly taken by the way colors swirled and
skittered across Slithis's leathery, scaly hide. As all he wore was
a pair of khaki shorts, there was a lot to look at. His reptilian
face, with its snakelike eyes, short snout and wide, lipless mouth,
was nearly lost in the psychedelic swirl. He was like a walking
screen saver, she thought, and wondered how he had become that way.
"Who gave you the portal stone?" asked Shadebeam, and Rumi had to
pull her attention away. Esteban seemed intensely uncomfortable now,
while Coco calmly shuffled diary pages. "As if I couldn't guess."
"He said you wouldn't mind..."
"Mind?" Shadebeam asked. "No, I don't mind. I would have given
you one, if you'd asked. Might have given him one if he'd asked, too.
But he doesn't exactly ask, does he?"
"But he said..."
Shadebeam did not say anything this time. Esteban saw her look
and ducked his head.
"Guess not," he finished. He glanced at Rumi, and she gave him a
sympathetic smile. The lecture she had received from her mother only
that morning on not throwing indestructible five-year-olds at
airplanes, and how she had felt afterward, was still fresh in her
mind. Not really a realization that she had been wrong, as such,
though she recognized that as a technicality. The feeling was more of
an inner cringing at the realization that she had been caught.
"Well, then, that's settled," said Shadebeam. Despite her voiced
disapproval, she did not seem unsympathetic. "Tell me stuff. What
happened, what happened after that, that thing with the thing, you
know."
Esteban appeared to know. Hesitantly at first, aware that eyes
were on him, he described how Eivandt, Alice, Glum, and Rumi had been
over to visit when a large number of people made to look like zombies
--badly--went all 'Night of the Living Dead' on his and Miguel's and
Cendra's apartment. He told how Rumi had somehow fixed the problems
with Los Pantalones with a judicious--not to mention dangerous and
involuntary--application of bioelectricity, and how he had used Los
Pantalones to fly up and catch her after she had passed out in midair.
He told about trying to find or call the adults he had been
instructed to call, and how, failing in reaching anyone, he put some
stuff in a backpack and took off with Rumi in his arms. The portal
stone he activated in mid-air not far from his apartment, and as
designed, the portal on the other end opened a mile from the edge of
Malaga.
"Lemon said it was one of the single-use stones," Esteban
finished. "Um... he was right, wasn't he?"
"Yes," Shadebeam said. "It'll be just a funny-looking stone now
to whomever finds it." She stood. "I'll see if I can get in touch
with Rad or Hal or someone over at Harxxon HQ. You two can stay over
at Lemon's tonight. I think I saw his mother with the setup crew at
the Mind Swap Pavilion, let me go see..."
"There's more to it," Rumi interrupted. She could hear the
quiver in her voice, and knew it was all she could do to keep from
shouting. Her mother had been kidnapped and her father was who-knew-
where and she was *not* going to be babysat in New Freakin' Mexico.
She opened her mouth again, then realized that what she had to say was
not for a wide audience, because of who it involved.
"Um... can I tell it to you alone?"
Shadebeam frowned, considered, then looked at Esteban.
"Do you mind---"
But Rumi, and the world at large, never got to learn if Esteban
minded or not. At that moment, someone landed less than a foot from
where they stood, slid on the blanket that Rumi had before been lying
on, then crashed into Esteban. Rumi winced as Esteban, Coco, and the
new person rolled on the sandy desert floor.
"Good," said Shadebeam. "This saves me from having to... oh my
god, what is that *smell?*"
Rumi got a whiff at the same time, and wrinkled her nose. It was
a sharp and pungent scent, at once bitter, raw, and strangely
chocolaty. It was also kind of familiar.
"Is that wort?" she asked.
Esteban, Coco, and their tackler were still untangling
themselves, and so did not answer. Rumi replayed the appearance of
this person in her mind, and realized that he had not flown in, but
had in fact leapt from the drink-serving mechanical spider. She
looked up at the machine and saw several wet, dark footprints heading
down its reflective face.
"It was an accident!" a voice from the pile shouted. It was
sharper than Esteban's, and broke at the end of 'accident.' Its owner
finally managed to stand, helping up Esteban in the process.
"Lemon Hardy Rydell," Shadebeam said, weariness evident in her
tone. "What have you gotten into *this* time?"
The name helped Rumi place where she had seen him before. He had
been in a photo she had seen on Esteban's desk, back in his room. The
wide grin she now saw was the same, though the boy it was on seemed
taller--nearly half a head above Esteban, not even counting the shock
of blond hair that rose straight up a couple inches from his head
before arcing forward and down.
Now that she saw Lemon and Esteban side-by-side, certain other
comparisons leapt unbidden into her thoughts. First was their
physical forms. While both were on the thinnish side, Lemon seemed
much more gracefully built. Where Esteban's limbs often seemed a
collection of angles searching for geometry, Lemon's moves seemed
fluid and graceful. Aside from his 'dismount-from-the-giant-metal-
spider' move, of course.
Her second comparison was of their skin color. Not only what
they had been born with--Esteban medium brown, Lemon light pink--but
of recent additions. Esteban had a light sheen of sweat that gave his
skin a glow, while Lemon's skin was obscured in large part by the
brownish and smelly liquid that now puddled at his feet. Rumi
recognized it as wort--unfermented malt--because she recalled the
smell from her father's few attempts at brewing beer.
Her third and final comparison was of clothing. Esteban had on
the same black shorts she had seen him in before, with the addition of
a shirt featuring something called 'Gorillaz,' a backpack, black
tennis shoes, and a pair of plastic safety goggles that hung by a
strap from his neck. Lemon, meanwhile, was--coating of wort
notwithstanding--naked.
"I was just checking on Slithis's brew, like he asked me to,"
said Lemon. "He said to check the gravity and add the hops, and I
did!"
Shadebeam looked at Slithis.
"Neither activity should have led to my wort exploding," Slithis
said. The patterns on his scales were now light green and purple, and
seemed content to pulse in splotches. "What happened?"
Lemon's grin faltered. "I... well, I thought your beer could'a
used some more kick. I mean, the last batch was crazy weak, right?
So I added some peppers, and tabasco, and... um... that black powder
in the dish on Miss Moroboshi's desk."
"The chiaroscuro powder," Shadebeam said. "An essential
ingredient in a few spells that bridge the light/dark magic
spectrum... that just happens to react badly with wort."
"Right... um... that."
No one said anything for ten seconds. Esteban glanced at Lemon,
and Rumi could see he seemed embarrassed at his friend's clothes-less
state--or, perhaps, that Lemon did not seem embarrassed about it at
all. Rumi was unfazed--adolescence on Planet California, while not as
freewheeling as adult life, generally managed to sort out who had what
in short order--though she could not help thinking that if she was in
Lemon's place, she would cringe at the thought of everyone seeing her.
She also could not help thinking that, from what she could see,
he had no reason to *be* embarrassed. She pushed the thought firmly
away and focused on his face. It held wide brown eyes, a nub of a
nose, and that cocky grin--which widened when her eyes met his.
Rumi quickly looked away.
"You are *so* lucky," said Shadebeam, "that I don't have time to
deal with this. Or to remind you that you're not legal to drink yet.
Go hit the showers."
"But---"
"Go!" she ordered. "And use soap this time! On your actual
skin! And then put some clothes on!"
Lemon slapped Esteban on the shoulder, leaving a handprint.
"Race you!"
Now it was Esteban's turn to protest. "But... my brother...."
"We'll sort this out," said Shadebeam. "I have to talk to Rumiko
first. Give us twenty minutes."
Esteban seemed on the edge of protest, until Lemon grabbed his
hand and tugged him in the direction of a path. Coco rose from
Esteban's shoulder and flew in the indicated direction. Esteban,
after giving Rumi a 'what-can-I-do' look, took off after his friend.
"And no bouncing on the chimeras!" Shadebeam called after them.
"We need them not-cranky so they can finish with the... ah, hell.
They're gone already." She shook her head and turned to Rumi. "Come
on, let's go to my place. Oughta be safe to talk there."
"Should I come with?" Slithis asked. His skin now resembled a
brushfire pulled through a polarizing filter.
Shadebeam glanced at Rumi, then shook her head.
"Not this time, babe," she said. "Check on the autobuffet the
Ottsamaddawiduans brought through the porta-transmat station, make
sure they're not going to hook the temporal flux generators to it this
time."
"But how else are we going to get neverending sesame chicken?"
Slithis asked. She rolled her eyes.
Slithis leaned down and kissed Shadebeam. Though human and
reptiloid mouths did not seem the most compatible of their features,
Rumi thought, they made it work. After a few moments, Shadebeam
pulled away, grinned, and slapped Slithis's rump. Slithis grinned
back, then ambled away, soon to be lost behind a swarm of leather-
shorts-clad Dalan engineers.
"Come on," Shadebeam said. "You're not drinking age yet, are
you?"
"Not on this world," Rumi answered.
"Well, I am," said Shadebeam. "And I've got a feeling I'm going
to need one."

***

Rad reflected that, if there was one thing of which he could be
certain--aside from the love of his family and friends, the
awesomeness of his tan, and the tastiness of tofu--it was that he was
certainly not made for the standing around and listening to people gab
on about things that lacked awesomeness. That he had spent a large
part of his time on Harxxon's flying battle-block-ship-thing, the
_Vander Harkness_, doing exactly that was not lost on him. And now
that they knew where bad things were either happening or about to
happen--Dodger Stadium, which had filled up with the sometimes-liquid
mystery metal nectarisite, and the surrounding area, which included a
number of pseudo-zombies and pseudo-ninjas and possibly his kidnapped
wife and daughter--he was ready to fly out and pound stuff with
psychokinetic beams until something resembling justice emerged.
But Rad had also been around the superguy-ing block a few times,
having been one for going on eighteen years--never minding that
sixteen of those years were not technically 'on Earth.' So, when
Chalandra Harkness urged him to follow Dr. Giuseppe Gigawatt to his
on-ship labs to meet Bhossi and Cla'rabhele, the scientists whose
revolutionary engine designs allowed the _Vander Harkness_ to fly and
who had more information on the mysterious 'Hidden Empire' that had
connections to the bad things happening, Rad reluctantly agreed.
All of Rad's thoughts fled his mind the moment he entered the
laboratory. They were not chased away by the lab equipment, which
featured the traditional assortment of bubbling-liquid-filled beakers,
electrical arc generators of uncertain purpose, and walls filled with
monitors and blinking lights. They were not chased away by the less-
traditional equipment, such as the espresso machine, the exercise
equipment, or the plasma-screen television. They were not chased away
by the weird theramin music in the background. They were chased away
by the cows.
The cows, of which there were two, wore well-tailored lab coats
over their otherwise standard, brown-and-white bovine bodies. They
were not anthropomorphic, as they stood on all four hooves.
Clipboards and pencils hovered close to their faces. The brains of
the cows, which extended a full foot-and-a-half above the heads of the
cows and were protected by see-through helmets, were gray and green
and glistening.
Rad watched the cows. The cows watched him.
"Like... um..." Rad finally ventured.
He heard a sigh that was unmistakably telepathic in nature.
*You did not tell him, Giuseppe?*
"What would I say?" Dr. Gigawatt answered. "I've told you. Some
things you just have to see for yourself first."
*You have told us he is a galactic citizen,* the voice replied.
It was a vaguely feminine voice, and reminded Rad a bit of Eartha
Kitt's. Rad sensed it was coming from the nearer of the two cows.
*That should mean he is inured to the sight of non-human sentients of
a variety of shapes.*
"Like, yah," said Rad. "Totally inured, y'know? So inured I'm,
like, outured."
*I... very well.* The nearer cow shuffled forward. *I am
Bhossi. My colleague here is Cla'rabhele. We are from... you really
haven't told him, Doctor?*
"I find it best---"
*Of course you do.* Bhossi sighed again. *Very well.
Cla'rabhele and I are distinguished scientists who were driven into
hiding by our government for prying into the affairs of the Hidden
Empire. We were hiding in the tunnels beneath the Great Pyramid of
Giza, in Egypt, where Harxxon's pyramid exploration team found us.*
"And your government is..." Gigawatt prompted.
*Of an ancient and esteemed land,* thought another voice, which
Rad identified as coming from Cla'rabhele. It was also feminine, and
resembled the voice of Tina Turner. *It sunk long ago. Not into the
sea, but into another dimension, into the realm now controlled by the
Hidden Empire. It---*
"It has a name, does it not?" Gigawatt asked.
This time, both cows sighed.
*You're going to make us say it, aren't you?* Bhossi asked.
"I think---"
*We are from,* thought Cla'rabhele, *the lost continent of...
Mu.*
Rad watched the cows. The cows watched him.
"Like, what?" Rad asked.
"Tell him your name for your species," Dr. Gigawatt urged. His
hand covered his mouth now, as if trying to hold in something.
*Our species name would translate into your language as 'the
people of the land,'* Bhossi thought.
"But in your language..." Gigawatt prompted. Rad noticed that
part of Gigawatt's face was flushed.
*We... are Mu'Kaus,* replied Cla'rabhele. *M-U-apostrophe-
K-A-U-S. It is only a bizarre linguistic coincidence that it sounds
like...*
Gigawatt could no longer contain himself. He fell to the floor,
almost weeping with laughter.
*It was not funny the first twenty times, Doctor,* thought
Bhossi. *In fact, you are the only one who seems even mildly
entertained by the joke.*
"Like, what joke?" Rad asked.
Bhossi and Cla'rabhele regarded him for several moments, as if
evaluating his sincerity. Rad, who really did not get it, whatever
'it' was, regarded them right back.
*It is of no importance,* Cla'rabhele answered. *Welcome to our
laboratories, Rad. We have heard much about you from our host and
employer, Chalandra Harkness.*
"Radical, um, babe," said Rad, as he looked away from Gigawatt--
who was valiantly attempting to compose himself--and at the lab
equipment. "Like, I'd love to, like, be diplomatic and stuff, but,
like---"
*Your wife has been kidnapped,* Bhossi finished. *We understand,
and are in the process of tracking her location.*
"Like, wife and daughter," Rad corrected.
*Rumiko was not kidnapped, Joe,* a new and very familiar voice
thought at him. *I was able to confirm this before I was cut off.*
Rad looked wildly around him. There was much equipment in the
lab, but not so much that he could have failed to see the woman who
had sent that telepathic message.
"Like, Liz?" he asked. "Where, like, are you?"
In answer, two panels in the far wall slid apart, and Elizabeth
Tirkoff--casually beautiful in a Red Sox t-shirt and blue jeans--
strode into the room. Though her hair was now bleached-blonde, and
she wore deep-red oval framed glasses, he recognized her at once.
"Like, Liz!" he exclaimed.
Elizabeth Tirkoff was one of his oldest friends, one who went
back nearly as far as Manny and Glum. When he met her, she had the
code name of Healer, and had been part of a now-forgotten government
agency dedicated to registering superguys. So much had happened since
then. CalForce. The loss of her partner and son-in-all-but-blood,
Faith. The Adjusted League Unimpeachable. The Genocidal Wars.
Boston today.
"Don't call me Liz," she said, though she smirked as she said it.
She hugged him quickly, then looked at Bhossi. "You were right.
They're in a secret base of some kind, about eight-and-a-half miles
beneath Dodger Stadium."
"You, like, knew where they were, like, being held?" Rad asked.
*She means we correctly hypothesized that they had been taken
underground,* Bhossi corrected. *We know little of Terra Subterrene
in this part of the world, and because of our status as fugitives, we
cannot exactly 'go exploring,' as it were. But we do know that there
is a civilization underground. And since the involvement of the
Hidden Empire has become clear, we deduced that the former Empress
Glum, along with the others, were taken below.*

(continued in part two, following...)
--
Gary W. Olson
swede at novitious dot com
http://www.novitious.com