SG: Subtler Than Light #3 (2/2): Doing Here?

(continued from part one, preceding...)

***

Lemon's head buzzed as he walked side-by-side with Cendra Seconds down the ornate bronze-gold corridor. They had to pick their way past palm trees, flower pots, and ferns that had been knocked from their decorative niches by the force of the blast. Lemon studied Cendra's face through side-eye glances, and knew that she was doing the same to him. He touched the songs, whirling deep in his head, assuring himself without hearing them that they were still there and doing their work, keeping telepathic probes out and incriminating thoughts in.

He wondered if Cendra enjoyed returning to their long-running fray as much as he did.

"The Doc seems to have gotten... more intense... since last time I was here," he opened. "I don't suppose he finally figured out how to grind nectarisite into powder and snort it."

"He did that last year," Cendra answered, as they reached a hatch. "Says he 'saw Cibola'... at least until Esteban and Coco hoovered the particles out through his nose, and Erin... that's Dr. McCavish to you... worked some techno-magic and healed up the damage. First day on the job."

"He's a techno-mage?"

"I was being facetious," she replied, giving him an annoyed glance. "He's just really good with tech, like his father, and doctoring in general, like his mother. Not a literal techno-mage, like your sister."

"Lucky there," said Lemon. "If Bonnie'd had to use her phone on him... the Doc's nose'd be a tentacle or something."

"I'm not sure Dr. Gigawatt would mind that." She shook her head. "He's gone so far down his rabbit hole of choice, he doesn't know what way 'up' is anymore. Bhossi, Cla'rabhelle, Shelby... they do a mix of containing him, interpreting him, and irresponsibly encouraging him, but they can only follow his train of thought through so many track switches."

"And what he said about the different kinds of crises...?"

"Worry the hell out of us," Cendra answered, as she opened the hatch, revealing two tubes, each with a ladder. "In general, headache-inducing, mostly-un-actionably vague ways. It's why we chose to re-bury the Heart soon after... the incident."

Lemon grimaced. She didn't need to elaborate, though her eyes threatened she was about to.

She stepped into the rightmost tube, which had a downward-pointing red arrow painted next to its entrance, but didn't grasp the ladder. Instead, she hovered in front of it, and used a wall-hold to spin around to face him.

"Looks like the anti-grav field is functioning again," she said as she began to slowly descend. "Care to try it out?"

"You got it to work?" Lemon asked, pushing into the shaft. He looked down at his black shoes, which hung above nothingness. The science lab was on the 4th level, one below the bridge, so there was a lot of nothingness between his feet and the bronze-gold floor.

"The Heart restored functionality to the Root, but only when we reburied it," Cendra replied, as they slowly sank. "When we did that, a lot of things came online that we'd been struggling with. The old unplug-it-and-plug-it-back-in principle, we think, and some subsystems, like this, now work fine, even with the Heart gone again. Sadly, the effect didn't reach to the ship's engines. We're as landlocked as ever."

"Wish I'd been there to see it."

"You're the only one."

"Ouch," he said, giving the word a drollness he didn't feel. "Were you saving that one up, or am I rubbing off on you?"

They touched down on the bronze-gold circle at the bottom of the shaft. The hatch slid open.

"Let's say it's a natural talent you help me refine whenever you open your pretty boy mouth," Cendra said. She held up a hand to forestall a response, then waved it in the direction of the hatch. "First floor, lobby, cafeteria, one-way getting-the-fuck-out access for all M.I.B. agents."

"And if the Director wants to meet you here...?"

"I'll burn that bridge when I come to it."

Lemon stepped out into the lobby. It had been empty when he and Cendra had come in earlier, it's hotel-esque expanse of who's-gonna-actually-sit-here rows of cushioned seats and strategically-deployed ferns and bonsai trees seemingly unchanged from the day he'd left, just seven years before. The reception desk was still uncrewed, though he saw shadows of people moving in the office in the back.

The lights were low, so it took a moment for Lemon to realize the lobby was no longer empty. The young, beige-skinned, blue-haired man in black track shorts Lemon had contended with in the bookstore just that morning was there, shirtless and grimacing as the young, well-tanned blonde woman Lemon had contended with all his life waved her smartphone over his bleeding shoulder and frowned.

"There's a... flatness... to your aura," Bonnie Rydell said. "Maybe even a 'squatness,' if that makes any sense. It's throwing off the repair mites I'm projecting. Hold still, I'll try a filter." A giant sombrero appeared above the man's head. Bonnie giggled, then pressed more buttons. The sombrero disappeared. "Okay, that got it, I think."

"I'm half... Heliumian," said Johnny Clark, briefly grimacing as the light from Bonnie's phone flashlight changed from white to chartreuse. "There was a girl back at the Acadley who said that explained a lot."

"And what was the explanation?"

"Dunno," he replied. "We were too busy making out in a hot tub to get into it, and never together long enough for it to come up again."

"Hello, Bonnie," said Cendra. Lemon half-expected to see his sister jump at Cendra's voice, but Bonnie just glanced at her and nodded.

"You never told me you knew a Heliumian," she said. "There's almost no data on them to work with. Never mind half-Heliumian/half-radioactive-spam-irridated-humans. It's giving the online grimoires I subscribe to what-for."

"Johnny, you should go up and see Erin," Cendra said. "He's through his line of patients now, and the crew's got what cleanup and repair work is left in hand."

"Already saw him," Johnny said. "He ran me through the Autodoc again. Remember last year, when he talked me into letting it give me a physical? Same thing again. It wrote 'NO U' in every box, including name and address. You'd think it was any of my exes."

"I am getting some results, though," said Bonnie. "The energy Kazza Malissk zapped you with isn't magical, but there are records of it on murder victims from the 1800s. Dankar Rukh, the Sorcerer Superlative of the late 19th, kept some detailed notes from his investigations. And... it's tied in some way to the Heliumian part of your D.N.A. Which may explain why it could break your skin and do you a damage, though I can't tell you more beyond that." She showed Johnny the screen. "If you want to come back to the bookstore, I could work you over in more detail..."

"That's the line Miguel fell for, right?" Lemon asked.

Bonnie glared at him. Lemon half-expected her to try to smite him via Alexa again, as she had in the bookstore, despite not having the smiting hardware at hand.

"That's... in the past," said Cendra, though her tone indicated it wasn't out of thought's reach. "Thank you, Bonnie, for looking after him. I thought you two had met before."

"You don't invite me to anything," said Bonnie. "Something something homewrecker, I think's how it goes."

"You weren't the wrecker," Cendra said. "Just the ball. And if someone could just stop pushing buttons for a second..." She shot Lemon a fierce look. "...we can keep this civil. Deal?"

"I love me some civil," said Bonnie, looking back at her phone. "Okay, Johnny, the mites are miting. They can't do the repairs directly, of course, on account of your super-durability, but they've found an in to spurring your healing process. Oddly, that didn't come from any of my online grimoires. But I cross-referenced other libraries. Let's see... looks like the central driver here is... a... Hormel cookbook from the fifties." She furrowed her brow. "Magic and spam don't mix that well. Unless by 'well' you mean 'explode.' Maybe that's it. The mites are trying a recipe on your radioactive-spam-irridated-human side."

"You don't say ham, you say Spam," Johnny warbled, then blinked. "Thanks...?" he added.

"You're welcome," said Bonnie, giving him a wide smile. "It was nice meeting you."

"Same," Johnny answered, as he stood, looking from Bonnie to Cendra and finally to Lemon. He frowned, as if remembering something. "Ah... did I miss something? Why is *he* doing here?"

"A question everybody asks, sooner or later," said Lemon, before Cendra could say anything tart. "I was brought aboard for a limited exchange of information, and exploring a potential alliance to get the Heart of Mu back. Cendra may not like me any more than you, which is still more than my sister, but she's practical enough to bend when things of importance are at stake."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow at Cendra, and hefted her smartphone. "As a token of goodwill, I can set his underwear on fire."

"Now that's what I call common ground," Cendra said.

"Ha!" Lemon ha'd at them. "Jokes on you! I'm not wearing any!"

"How did you stand growing up with him?" Cendra asked through a scowl.

"Mystic clay makes good earplugs," Bonnie replied, giving Lemon a sour-but-unsurprised eye.

"Sounds like my cue to go," said Johnny, regarding them all with a look of polite panic. "Anything you need me to help out with around here, Cendra, or can I head up to see if I can help out with the repair efforts?"

"Go," said Cendra. "And find a shirt while you're at it."

Johnny stepped toward the 'up' lift tube... and stepped briskly out of the way when China Moroboshi and Shelby d'Rodang emerged from the 'down' tube.

"Mmmmmammals," said Shelby. His clawed hands held a lot of portable instruments of uncertain purpose, so in lieu of tipping his trilby he settled for a suave nod. Johnny shook his head, entered the lift, and ascended out of sight. Cendra rolled her eyes, and Bonnie just raised an eyebrow. Lemon gave the human-sized kaiju a respectful nod, and noted the quick flash of surprise in response.

"We're heading out to the park in Little Kaijuville where Esteban fought with the Programmer this morning," said China, as she tapped at a tablet in her hand. "I've got an idea that it's more than a coincidence that they went there to examine what they thought they stole... oh, hi, Lemon. Like the suit. You ever gonna return that 'Waking Life' DVD you lifted off me?"

"Hi, thanks," said Lemon, "and the last I saw of it was in a dive bar in Santiago, where the bartender generously accepted it in lieu of full payment on my tab."

"The last day you were in Santiago, amirite," she said, smirking a bit. Lemon couldn't help but smirk a bit in response. China never seemed to get flustered by anything he said or did, something he used to find exasperating, but today felt like a balm in his still-aching head.

"You know me well," he answered. "Or, at least better than the bartender did."

"Can we get going?" Shelby asked. "Moon Moon, Marty, Miko, and Apples are already on-site, trying to keep the bums in the park from trampling or eating things that could be evidence."

"I wanted to ask," said China, turning to Cendra. "Can Miguel be spared to come along? Moon Moon and the rest want to see him. Something something pack business ahwoooo. Also I put in a call to Zia to see if she could join us and do a thaumaturgic reading, see if there's something we can pick up, and I'd like to give her a level up on clearance for it so I don't have to be coy about what we're trying to find."

Lemon tried to remember anyone from the _Subtler Than Light_ team named Zia. Not in any of the briefings, he decided, or his memories of the dim past.

"Level her up," said Cendra. "Though about Miguel... I was thinking of having him get out to Malaga to check with Ragna on this new Galaxy Hunter that showed up. Maybe also the superguy who showed up with him... Psywave, whatshername. There's something... I don't know. Not so much something that doesn't add up, but more like they're a math assignment from a different chapter. Miguel knows everyone who's down there... well, most everybody, since there're still some offworlders helping with cleaning up after this year's Burning M00se, so he can ask others if Ragna already went back to planet Hottentot."

"I thought you wanted him to take Camila out of here," said Bonnie. "At least until we're secure against teleporting demon monkey incursions." She gave Lemon a disdainful look.

"Not *my* demon monkeys," he reminded her. "Only somewhat my demon circus."

Bonnie sighed and looked away.

"Bhossi and Cla'rabhelle have un-mothballed the teleportation inhibitor," said Shelby. "They're running diagnostic checks on it now. Without the Heart, though, it might not be effective, and even more of an energy drain than before." He looked at Lemon. "Unless our temporary friend here can spare an agent from his detail to help us test...?"

"You got it," said Lemon, hiding a smile. He noticed Cendra's narrowed eyes and shrugged. "If we're going to work together, I gotta make a concession or two, right? Count this as one." He paused, wheels spinning in his head, somewhere beneath the songs. "And if you want to go for two... I could go out to Malaga. I mean, I grew up there, at least part-time."

"Hard no on that," said Cendra. "At least, not you alone." She shook her head. "So soft no, I guess. I can't believe I'm even considering it. After everything. China, are you still seeing those two little fuckers?"

"Little fuckers are not present," China said, tapping on her tablet as she spoke, and not helpfully clarifying to Lemon just who and what she was talking about. "I tried singing the 'Ulysses 31' theme in the lift tube, and they didn't join in. Ergo, not here, and you're not being uncharacteristically super-impulsive in giving ground on working with him, he's just being charming."

"The bag my guys were trying to put the Heart in," said Lemon, "was supposed to inhibit its effects. Erasmus Fancy's design, I'm told, same kind of work he put into the mask he used to wear. So either Kazza's well out of range, or the Heart's bagged and it works."

"Whee," said Shelby, a decidedly non-whee tone in his voice. "Can we go?"

"I'll talk to Miguel," Cendra said to China. "Don't wait up, though."

"Roger dodger," China said, bagging her tablet and adjusting her black t-shirt, which bore art of attacking flying saucers, palm trees, and the words 'Hollywood Burns.' Lemon guessed it was a band, not a hope. "We'll report in when we're on-site."

Shelby went by and through the door to the street. As China passed by Lemon, she said, sotto voce, "try stepping to us and I'll let the Kyoko in me out to play."

"Love you too," said Lemon, unsure of exactly what the threat was but feeling a chill nevertheless. China winked and stepped out.

"I can go to Malaga," said Bonnie. She shot Lemon a look. "I grew up there, too, and unlike him, most of the people there still like me."

"I appreciate the offer," Cendra answered, rubbing her eyes. "But Miguel can get there faster in--"

"I'll call a Tuber," Bonnie interrupted. She held up her smartphone, and pointed at the image of a potato icon. "Get me and Miguel and whoever else you want to send... and even my stupid brother, if you approve... on over there in a flash."

"Tuber?" asked Lemon.

"Translocation service," said Bonnie, as she tapped the icon, which opened up into a white screen with a map and a row of meaningless-to-him symbols. "I put in the request, a couple magical contractors pop in, zip zap zop, we're there." She sighed. "Expensive, though. You'd think they'd give me a break since I helped debug the Android version of the app."

"And... I'm guessing not everyone can use this," said Cendra.

"You gotta have a special version of any of the major modern smartphones, hardened to handle the thaumaturgic surges that play holy hell with the regular versions," Bonnie told him. "They're only available to magic-y peeps. Special hush-hush sections on Amazon and Apple Store, among others. The High Technocrus... the accredited mage who's the embodiment of the union of science and magic... comes down hard on cheaters. At least if they don't give him a cut. He's kinda desperate for cash now, though, cuz he bought the accreditation from the previous holder for all those billions, and he's got a metric fuckton of thaumaturgic debt to service to keep the universe from control-alt-deleting him."

"You can't mean..." Cendra said.

"Him," Bonnie confirmed. "He's not even remotely competent, sure, but he hasn't wrecked the system... yet."

Lemon frowned, then pressed his mouth into a line. The mention of the High Technocrus touched another memory. Something Director Cartier had once said about a previous holder of the accreditation.

Something about him... and the Charnel House.

Terrors within. Terrors just *getting* to the terrors within.

And within the terrors within... a door. To...?

"Fine," said Cendra, interrupting Lemon's tenuous remembrance, waving at Bonnie as if warding off her entire headache-threatening conversational cul-de-sac. The thread he'd touched slipped away. "But let me talk to Miguel first, see if he wants to go with you or out to the park." She fixed her gaze on Lemon. "As for this... Agent... I'm leaving that call to you. If you take him with, keep him on a short leash."

Bonnie grinned, and Lemon felt another chill. "I'll use the spiky collar," she said. "Inside out."

Lemon thought quickly. Finding Kazza Malissk before anyone else was the priority. But... he wanted to know what a full-armored Galaxy Hunter was doing on Earth as well. Ever since Ragna Rok retired and created the Hunter Corps to replace him, there were hundreds of well-trained beings of many races who were Galaxy Hunters, though so far as he and the M.I.B. knew, none on active duty had come to Earth. There were Galaxy Hunters who were Reptoids, he knew, and what Dr. Gigawatt had said about the crisis being partly one of historical galactic intrigue involving them was no coincidence. It was taking a chance, and a tricky one at that, since he'd have to rely on Bonnie not stranding him in Malaga out of spite, though he could make a couple of calls to mitigate the risk. The events of the day so far made it clear he was far from seeing the whole picture of who was competing with him for the Heart.

Director Cartier probably knew more than he was saying about them, too. If there was one thing Lemon liked more than keeping secrets, it was working out what secrets were being kept from him. No matter what consequences followed.

Consequences always followed. They were why Lemon liked moving fast.

"I'm in," he said. "I just gotta get some instructions to my guys--including detaching one and sending him here to help test the teleport inhibitor--and I'll be back in ten."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Cendra asked. Lemon noted the look on her face, at once tense and smiling.

Then he heard a metallic step on the floor behind him, from the direction of the still open door to the street.

"Damn," he whispered. Cendra had told him, and he'd tried to leave, but there had always been something to see, someone to work, some words to say. Had it been an hour, already?

"You were right, Cendra," said Esteban Veracruz, from behind him, "neither Coco nor I can find this Kazza Malissk, and we covered twenty square miles. She's got the Heart of Mu masked somehow, and... what's everyone looking..."

Lemon turned. When unable to escape facing consequences, it was best to do it with a smile.

"...at?" Esteban squeaked.

The astonishment in his face was so pure Lemon could feel it... and it hurt. And seeing the rest of him... hurt in a different way. He'd put on muscle, and the exposed skin of his arms and face gleamed with the sweat of flying around in the California sun. And the way he carried himself now... Lemon remembered someone describing Esteban's gangly teenage self as 'a collection of angles in search of geometry.'

He'd found it. That much was sure.

"Hey, Guerrero, skootch," said someone behind him. "You said the boss lady here was looking for me."

Though Esteban had changed back to civilian guise--the half-an-armored-suit he called 'Los Pantalones' having compressed and folded into a belt, sandals, and armbands--the costumed, red-haired superguy behind him had to squeeze between his arm and the doorway edge to get through. She stopped on seeing Lemon.

"I saw you earlier," she said, after a moment's pause. "What are *you* doing here?"

Lemon started to answer that familiar question, but stopped when she looked up at Esteban, who met her look before returning to staring at Lemon. There had been a look on his face in that moment, Lemon was sure. No, not just a look... a communication. Somehow.

He wanted to look at Psywave, but couldn't pull his eyes from Esteban. He wanted to speak... but the words ran dry. Inside his head, the songs faltered.

Cendra blinked, a momentary look of surprise crossing her face.

"I always liked him," Bonnie said, not even trying to keep her voice down, though she'd mimed covering her mouth as she spoke to Cendra. "The only one I saw who could ever shut my brother up."

"Ms. Seconds," said Psywave. "Ran into your guy here while looking for Kazza Malissk, and he said I ought to talk to you. I'd like to do it now so I can get back to my partner and the search."

Cendra frowned. "I'm sure you mean well, Psywave," she said, "but I don't know you from Sy Sperling, and I'd rather talk to Galaxy Hunter, if you don't--"

"I'm the one who sent the warning the Heart was going to be stolen. Not Hunter. Though I can put in a call."

Cendra pursed her lips, then came to a decision.

"My office, off the bridge," she said. "Call him, so I can interview you both. I'll put in a temp clearance so your Hunter can land up top and not get jumped by my people. But if you could just wait a few minutes..."

"No need to wait," said Esteban. His voice was cold, his eyes shadowed by the light from outside. "I've got to get back to the search."

"Dude," Lemon managed to get out, his forced smile wavering. "You just said you were done."

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you," Esteban went on, "but don't believe a damn word this guy says."

He lifted two fingers to his mouth and blew a mock kiss at Lemon.

Then he stepped back through the doorway, Los Pantalones reforming over his legs and hips while his bronze-gold mask that was once Erasmus Fancy's dropped from his headband.

He shot upward and was gone.

Lemon heard people talking behind him. He saw Psywave move off with Cendra.

But he couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't *think.*

("And what effect has the awakened Heart had on *you,* Agent?")


WILL AGENT RYDELL RECOVER IN TIME TO GO TO MALAGA?

WILL CENDRA SECONDS UNRAVEL THE MYSTERIES UNSPOOLING BEFORE HER?

WILL THE HEART OF MU KEEP MUCKING WITH EVERYBODY'S HEADS?

WILL DR. GIGAWATT KEEP DRAINING THE _STL'S_ YARN BUDGET?

WHAT WAS LEMON ON THE VERGE OF REMEMBERING ABOUT THE CHARNEL HOUSE?

WHAT IS THE CHARNEL HOUSE, ANYWAY?

WILL TONY THE FLESH-EATING SPORE CLOUD EVER FIND LOVE, OR AT LEAST BREAKFAST?

WILL ANYONE SAY HAM INSTEAD OF SPAM?


Find out on an upcoming... you don't say guy, you say SUPERGUY!

--
Subtler Than Light #3 (c) 2023 by Gary W. Olson. All Rights Reserved.

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SG: Subtler Than Light #3 (1/2): What Are You

The world was an endlessly giving place. In Agent Lemon Rydell's thirty-one years of experience, it offered beauty, heartbreak, intrigue, danger, and wonder, often in the most unexpected places. It had given him miles of empty desert to walk while thinking of his mistakes and the ones they had cost him. It had given him mystery and revelation in a slightly seedy park in Ohio. It had given him a racing heart on the Autobahn, escaping from a wave of chasing cars and jetpack-wearing spiders. It had given him an awareness of his limits, and a need to exceed them.

At the moment, all it was giving him was a splitting headache.

"Could you say that again, Agent Chim-Chim," said Lemon, betraying none of his pain in his voice. "You... lost... ki Kazza Malissk?"

The demon monkey in the black-and-white three-piece business suit before him--before his legs, at least--took a long drag from his cigarette, frowned, and shrugged. "Oook eek ook aaaahk. Ook? Ahhk."

"The trackers should... damn it." Lemon looked around at the aftermath of the brief but chaotic battleground he and his diminutive agents of the new Mega Intelligence Bureau had been part of that morning. The street that separated the Pacific Ocean and Ventura Beach from a row of shops and a bronze-gold battleship from another dimension was filled with a number of superguys, a handful of his (demon monkey) agents, and a milling-about assortment of civilians. "Talk to the team. Kazza can't have gotten far, the way she was injured. And she thinks... *probably* thinks... we don't know where she was holed up in the days before the steal. Check there first, but be careful. And contact me before making any moves to take her. She may have the Heart, but the Heart has *her*, too. Especially if she takes it out of the bag."

("And what effect has the awakened Heart had on *you,* Agent?" Kazza's question came back to him. He hadn't answered, then. He wondered if he ever would... or that he even could.)

Chim-Chim puffed on his cigarette a little more, then tossed it to the asphalt.

"Eek ooook ahk *ook ook*."

"You're telling me," Lemon said, resisting the urge to rub his temples. "Get going."

Chim-Chim looked toward a group of agents fifty feet away, approximately where the utahraptor known as ki Kazza Malissk had last been seen before a surprise attack by a Hawaiian-shirt-wearing faction of demon monkeys gave her cover to escape. He blipped away from Lemon and immediately appeared next to them, ooking instructions at them before they could say anything. Several looked at Lemon and back at Chim-Chim. One made a disrespectful sign by shaking a curled-finger hand up and down.

"What's it like," growled a deep voice to his left, "working with pint-sizers even shadier than you?"

"Miguel," said Lemon, saying the name in the languid way he knew Miguel Veracruz hated. "What brings you out of the gutter this fine morning?"

The muscular werewolf who looked back on (and down at) him went through several expressions, none of them even remotely in the area of 'pleased to see you.' His claws were still out, as they had been in the recently-ended skirmish, and Lemon got the sense Miguel was actively contemplating how they would look buried in his neck. The wise thing to do would've been to be conciliatory. Or at least shut up.

"Let me guess," he said instead. "Paying an early morning visit to my sister. Upstairs, little toke, little poke, while your daughter reads comics downstairs? Nice. Some things don't change, huh?"

Miguel breathed heavily for several moments, giving Lemon an uncomfortable opportunity to guess how far he'd stepped over the line this time. Reading a werewolf's expressions and body language wasn't as easy as reading a human's, but having been around both growing up, it wasn't difficult to bridge the gap. A hell of a lot of water had gone under an amazing assortment of bridges seven years ago, exposing infidelities and wrecking friendships and romances along the way. Lemon could sense those memories in the curve of Miguel's snarl, and read how long he'd nursed thoughts on them in the narrowing of his eyes. Miguel had been waiting for this moment. Waiting a long time.

The moment held... then broke. Was broken, with visible effort from Miguel. He retracted his claws and shrank, his fur pulling back into him, along with his snout and his ears, accompanied by a rapid and liquid-laced crackling sound. When his transformation to human was complete, Miguel Veracruz crossed his arms and fixed an exasperated glare on Lemon.

As a human, Miguel Veracruz was nearly as imposing as his were self. He had sun-deepened brown skin and sleek muscles from the ground on up, a tight pair of cargo shorts and a few scraps of what had been a stained red t-shirt the only clothing to break up the view. Long black hair, a brick of a jawline darkened with stubble, a wide mouth pressed into a grim line, a nose that had seen a few more than its share of fists... and eyes as tired as they were wide.

"What are you doing here?" Miguel asked. "Ain't seen you since... that time... and that hasn't been long enough."

"Here for work, that's all," Lemon replied. "Wasn't looking to stir up old hurts."

"Pity. Since you're so good at it."

Lemon's headache pulsed. A bit of it must have shown on his face, as Miguel let out an amused snort. "Come on," Miguel said, reluctance creeping in. "We can piss one another off later. Cendra wants to talk to you."

"I love it when people want to talk to me," said Lemon. "Lead on, Wolf Guy."

Miguel scowled, but didn't respond. Instead, he waved Lemon in the general direction he wanted to go. Cendra Seconds was in that direction, Lemon could see, apparently speaking to empty air. He fell in beside Miguel as they walked closer.

Briefly... so briefly... he closed his eyes and looked inwards. Deep within, in the part of his head that currently hurt the most, he could hear the songs doing their work. Muted, nearly inaudible even to him, compartmentalized from his conscious thoughts by long hours and days of effort, yet ready to blare at full volume against anyone who might want to take a peek inside his head. Though he doubted Cendra would telepathically invade his mind without strong reason--she was appallingly moral in that respect--she could catch stray thoughts and images as they were broadcast by an unshielded mind. The songs helped with that as well... but only to a point. He would have to be careful.

It took an effort to remember he and Cendra Seconds were only six years apart in age. Physical age, anyway. Emotionally, Cendra had always seemed leagues older to him, and whenever she fixed an eye on him for things in the past he'd thoughtlessly done, it held him fast and made him squirm. She'd been through things in her youth--including but scarcely limited to being made the tool of a malevolent ex-empress in an attempt to devastate the galaxy--that had given her a steel behind her eyes that never went away. A simple silver-tongued snow-job would get him nowhere with her.

It was all right. He could lie just as easily with the truth.

"--told you," said Cendra, as they got into range. "This was a goddamn cluster. Demon monkeys everywhere. Some dressed like tourists, some like agents." She paused, then met Lemon's eyes. "I'll ask. If he says yes, do you... hello?" She scowled. "Like the day can get any worse. Hi, Lemon."

"Cendra," said Lemon, as his head pulsed again. "You look like a mammal again. What did you want to ask me?"

"I look... what?"

"No longer like a dragon," Lemon corrected. "When'd you add that to your repertoire, by the way?"

"Six years back," said Miguel. "During the Monsta Island invasion."

"It just came to me," Cendra said, giving her ex-husband what Lemon instantly identified as *a look.* "And that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." She looked him up and down. "Don't take this the wrong way, the wrong way meaning I'm well-disposed to seeing you, but you look good. Being an agent of a reconstituted morally-oblivious disavowed secret agency suits you."

"Thanks."

"Now," said Cendra, holding up a hand with two fingers curled up. "Do you tell me why you're after the Heart, or do my fingers and your nose have some elevating to do?"

"I appreciate we have to talk," said Lemon, refusing to flinch in memory of how easily she'd snagged him just earlier that morning, "but I'd rather do it somewhere private... especially if you're going to ask what I think."

"Miguel," said Cendra. "Take care of Camila. She's over with Johnny and... Bonnie."

Lemon caught the whiff of frustration in how Cendra said his sister's name. The corners of his mouth curled up.

"Can we do this now?" he asked, as Miguel moved off without a word. "I've got people to spy on."

"Hold on," said Cendra. She tapped behind her ear. "What is it, Esteban?"

Lemon felt something inside him go very still.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Not yet," Cendra went on. "Yeah, Galaxy Hunter and that woman... she called herself 'Psywave'... they took off as soon as the Hawaiian-shirt demon monkeys ooked off. Probably looking for Kazza Malissk, too." She listened. "I don't know." Pause. "Don't know that, either. Someone may have to side quest to Malaga to check." Another pause. This time, Cendra focused on Lemon. "We've got it in hand. Priority is finding Kazza Malissk and the Heart of Mu, not necessarily in that order. Do your sweep, but if you can't find them in an hour, I doubt anyone can." Pause. "Good luck."

She tapped behind her ear, then raised an eyebrow at Lemon.

"Thanks," he said, letting out a breath. "I... wasn't looking to stir up old hurts."

"Pity," she said. "Since--"

"I'm so good at it," he finished. "I was just reminded."

"Come on," said Cendra. "We can have our chat in the Doc's room."

Lemon frowned. "Your new dude?"

"Other Doc."

"Right," said Lemon, placing who she was talking about. "This should be... something."

Cendra gave him a look, equal parts rueful and tired.

"When isn't it?"

***

SUBTLER THAN LIGHT
Episode 3
[Hidden Hearts, Part Three]
"What Are You Doing Here?"
by
Gary W. Olson

***

The world kept on taking. Time, thought, energy, self. Even in the quiet times, Cendra Seconds thought, it was *there,* pulling from all directions. The _Subtler Than Light,_ with its mysteries and dangers, kept contained through monitoring and careful determination. Miguel Veracruz, her ex-husband, who'd helped endlessly that morning, then reminded her without a word of the infidelities that had torn her heart out. The battle that morning and the transformations she'd willed as part of ending it, leaving her exhausted and ready to murder a plate of cheeseburgers.

Agent Lemon Rydell of the M.I.B., who at that moment was taking her entire willpower not to grab by the collar and throttle.

"Can I feed him?" Lemon asked, as he tapped on the glass tube.

Within the tube, a red-and-pink haze flashed and coiled. Cendra wasn't sure exactly what that communicated--the body language of sentient, flesh-hungry spore clouds was not known to her, a fact she was grateful for--but decided it probably wasn't good.

"You're welcome to jump right in," she said. "I don't think he's had breakfast yet."

"Oh, right," said Lemon, pulling back his hand. "Sorry, Tony! Maybe we can talk sometime? Love your billowing. Very scary."

If this assuaged Tony, it was hard to tell. Cendra sighed, then looked about the large, chaotic space that was the Science Lab of the _Subtler Than Light._ Though the bronze-gold walls were lined with tanks, screens, beaker-filled tables, baroque machines of uncertain purpose, and metallic arches that periodically spat electricity, it felt surprisingly spacious. Bhossi and Cla'rabhelle, the superintelligent cows from the transdimensionally sunken island of Mu who were currently employed as the heads (and, to be honest, a good part of the body) of the _Subtler Than Light's_ science division, had long since demonstrated that strange science and sensible feng shui went hoof-in-hoof.

Speaking of whom...

"Bhossi?" she called. "Cla'rabhelle? Anyone else?"

The partly-open door to her left became a fully-open one, admitting a six-foot tall lab-coat-and-black-jeans-clad violet-scaled humanoid with a pteradon's wings and head to the chamber. Atop the head was a trilby, which its owner tipped while giving them a welcoming nod.

"Mmmmmmammals," the creature said.

"Hello, Shelby," Cendra said. "This is Agent Lemon Rydell of the M.I.B. Lemon, this is Bhossi and Cla'rabhelle's chief lab assistant, Shelby d'Rodang."

Lemon cocked his head. "A Rodang, working here?"

"You seem surprised," Shelby said. "The Monsta Island invasion was six years ago."

"Rodang... the big Rodang, I mean," said Lemon, "before he got turned into thousands of human-size mini-Rodangs in the end of the invasion... the other kaiju always blamed him for setting up the invasion. I mean, we learned late that it was the Venusians behind it, but they were working with Rodang and making it look like Godziller'd done a heel turn..."

"That as may be," said Shelby. "My memory of those times is vague at best. While I hardly consider myself to have been 'born' six years ago--I retain the intelligence, maturity, and... ahem... stamina... of a full adult Rodang... the time before the final stroke that ended the invasion and transformed my life is a virtual black box to me, at least in the specifics, as it is with most human-size kaiju in this city. And with Monsta Island now permanently sunk..." He trailed off, then waved his clawed hands. "Ah. I do exposit on. Never mind... I take it you're here to see the Doc? Don't worry, we got him calmed down and back in pants again." He paused. "Underpants, anyway. He tore up the rest of his clothes because of... well, you'll see."

Cendra and Lemon followed Shelby into the room from which he'd entered. She looked about, trying to see if anything new had been added. It was not an easy task, as the bronze-gold walls were covered with post-it notes, scribbled words, large question marks, photographs of blurry figures, maps of places not found on Earth's surface, a signed glossy 8x10" picture of Giorgio Tsoukalos, a sketch of a loaf of Symmes Whole Grain Bread... and enough yarn stretching from one spot to the next to stock a hobby shop for years to come. Random scrawled words and phrases jumped out at her -- "Smokey?", "Hidden from whom?", "engines in the earth," "fate of the Agarthans," "Ohio? Really?", "ancient Reptiloid conspiracy," and "1 loaf of bread, 1 jam, 2 ham sandwich" among them.

An open access panel at the wall to her left revealed a small passage that was similarly lacquered with conspiratorial notes, images, and yarn loci. She hadn't been in the maintenance passages in a long time, and could only imagine to what extent Gigawatt had used them to physically replicate his labyrinthine theories and hypotheses. She hoped he had kept away from the buzzier parts of the ship's energy systems, or at least hadn't yarned-over the fire prevention pipes.

Some of the yarn connecting seemingly random pieces of this chaotic puzzle were, on further inspection, strips of fabric. She now understood what Shelby meant about what became of the Doc's clothes, and immediately ceased further inspection.

Bhossi and Cla'rabhelle hovered past her field of view, floating from one point to another. The labcoat-wearing cows were followed by telekinetically-held tablets, on which notes were being recorded. Their exposed brains, which went a full foot above their bovine heads and were protected by translucent helmets, pulsed blue and red in what Cendra recognized as 'annoyed deep thought.'

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Bhossi said. Though her bovine jaw didn't move, the words reached Cendra's ears as ordinary speech, though they'd originated as telepathic speech--a function of the highly scientific pearl necklaces they both wore. "I can't believe this utahraptor, this ki Kazza Malissk... is beholden to Lady Capella Ookanaptra. What records we have from our deep sources indicate Malissk was acting at the behest of Erasmus Fancy when she attacked Sol Selegna's ruling council. Lady Capella is *on* the Council, at least as of our last intelligence, and she wouldn't make herself a target."

"Oh, wouldn't she?" asked a rough voice from behind a map-bearing table. "You heard the audio saying that Malissk referred to a 'Lady' during the battle out on the street. The only being on the Council with the noble title of 'Lady' as of our last intelligence was Capella. Moreover, we know Lady Capella often contracts the mercenary services of Demon Monkeys, and it is unlikely any faction controlled by Fancy would make use of them at any price. Therefore, they must have been hers, set as a decoy to allow Malissk to escape."

"Hi, Doc," said Lemon. "Fascinating theory. Wrong as hell, but I'm glad you're still plugging away at it."

A light-skinned head with tangled grey hair and wire-frame glasses popped up from behind the table. The eyes behind the glasses squinted, pulling the wrinkled, leathery skin around them a bit tighter. "Lemon Rydell? Here?" He looked harshly at Cendra. "How could you? He'll see everything!" He jumped up and rushed to one side, attempting with his slightly scrawny, underpants-clad frame to obscure an assortment of what Cendra could only guess were the most secretive of secret post-it notes. "The new M.I.B. is in this up to its collective eyeballs!"

"Dr. Gigawatt," said Cendra, arms raised. "Giuseppe..." She sighed. "Henri... calm down. If he is part of this conspiracy..." She gestured broadly around the room, to indicate the scope of the word. "...he already probably knows more than you. He's here to give *us* information, not the other way around."

She peered carefully at Lemon, wondering what he thought of the once-notorious Dr. Gigawatt now. Even when Giuseppe (sometimes 'Henri') Gigawatt had been a supervillain, prior to reforming and becoming a top scientific adviser for Harxxon--the nominal owner of the _Subtler Than Light_ and the land it rested on--he hadn't looked so intense, or so about to burst into maniacal laughter. She wondered if he already knew why.

"Besides," Cla'rabhelle added, as she floated up to Lemon and squinted at him through her rhinestone glasses, "we can give him a scan while he's here and see what the long term results were."

"Long-term results?" Lemon asked. "Of what?"

"Oh, you know," said Cla'rabhelle, as she waved her tablet in front of his face and telekinetically tapped it a few times. "Things. Exposures. From when you used to be here regularly, asking all your endless questions. You haven't been hallucinating the head of Nick Cave, have you?"

"Uh, no..."

"Well, the counteragent we sprayed on you as you were storming out for the last time must have worked, then," said Bhossi. "Hurrah, us!"

"Never mind that," said Gigawatt, sitting down on the table with legs unfortunately splayed. "You know, then. Who is--or maybe 'was'--Malissk working for?"

"Me," said Lemon. "On behalf of the M.I.B. I employed her to steal the Heart. Not by the explosive force the other faction used, mind. She was supposed to be gone with it before you even realized it was missing."

"And we both would've been spared each other's company," said Cendra. "But why steal the Heart now? After so many years..."

"The Director gives the orders," Lemon answered. "I just do my duty."

He spread his hands, shrugged, and gave her his most innocent look. It only put her more on her guard.

"This... Director," said Gigawatt, fixing a steely glare on the M.I.B. agent while pushing a small handful of cheetos into his mouth. "We know it can't be Robert O'Larson, Dave Ross's successor, though they never did find out what became of him after he and his wife vanished, did they?"

"Mmmmmph mrmph," said Lemon, as he spit out cheetos. "Not... not as far as I know. But as far as the current Director knows, I could tell you..."

"But then you'd have to kill me?" Gigawatt asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Worse than that," Lemon replied. "I'd have to fill out paperwork."

Cendra flexed her fingers. Lemon noticed her movement and edged away.

"His name is Richard Cartier," he said. "I'm sure that name means nothing to you..."

"The Dweller in the Shades!" Gigawatt, Cendra, Bhossi, Cla'rabhelle, and Shelby chorused.

"...besides... that?"

Cendra thought back on her conversation with Chalandra. This was a thread she had to pull... no matter what unraveled.

"In addition to being the closest the surface world has to experts on the Hidden Empire, Terra Subterrene, and any and all Hollow-Earth-adjacent phenomena," she said, "these four have also investigated the Journals of Richard Cartier extensively. The two missing journals aside, of course. And while I haven't been into the details nearly so much, I knew that one."

"But Cartier died," said Gigawatt, wrinking his face at them. "He was consumed by the Ravenousity, that extradimensional monster he was reported to have thwarted in the final entry." He smiled. "Or, as I have long hypothesized, can we not trust the postscript written by Erasmus Fancy?"

Lemon blinked. "You know he wrote that?"

"Suspected," said Gigawatt. "Thank you for confirming."

"It's too long a story to go into now," said Lemon. "But yes, he survived. And he is the architect of the revived M.I.B. As to why he wants the Heart of Mu now... if you had the first missing volume, you'd know."

"Do *you* have it?" Bhossi asked.

Lemon shook his head. "He summarized what was in it. It was the second volume, so lots of early stuff. How he came to terms with his new occult detective abilities as the Dweller in the Shades... how he came to adopt a street youth known as 'Jimmy True' as his ward... and what happened at the Charnel House."

"You know of..." Shelby started, before looking at Cendra. "Ms. Seconds! Can we keep him?"

"He must be debriefed at once!" Gigawatt declared.

"As long as *you* stay briefed, Doc," Shelby said. Lemon snorted.

"Another time," said Cendra, focusing again on the too-smooth-by-half agent she'd last dealt with a a too-smooth-by-full young adult. "I brought you up here so we could talk about what the hell you were doing stealing the Heart."

"Again, Director Cartier," said Lemon. "Per his wizened words, he was approached by agents of the Hidden Empire. Said agents claimed they'd learned that the Heart of Mu had been stolen from the transdimensional engine that originally facilitated the _Subtler Than Light's_ travel to above the surface of this dimension's Earth, and that that was likely how Lady Capella had been able to succeed in highjacking said engine so she and her crew of this vessel we're in could come across in the first place. It was hidden beneath the floor in the ship's engine room, where she could make best use of it, and she was forced to abandon it when the final battle failed to go her way and she returned to Terra Subterrene without it."

Cendra frowned. The Hidden Empire was the power that ruled the distorted globe-within-a-globe in the Aetheric Dimension's hollow earth. Factions, including one lead by Capella Ookanaptra, and another led by a dangerous gorilla-sized sentient bonobo named Erasmus Fancy, had been active in North America in the late 1800s, as sketchily and inadequately revealed in several entries from Richard Cartier's journals and equally sparse intelligence from contacts they had in Terra Subterrene. But while some from Terra Subterrene--the network of underground cities and highways miles beneath the surface of the Earth in this dimension--sometimes came up to the surface now, at least if there was an event like Burning M00se going on, incursions by actual denizens of the Aetheric Dimension were rare. So far as they knew. If they were coming around now...

"Now what was it you wanted to ask me?" said Lemon.

"It's what Chalandra Harkness wants me to ask you," Cendra replied. "I'd just as soon punt you off the topside deck, but... would your Director Cartier be willing to meet with us?"

"That... wasn't what I was expecting," said Lemon. "I thought you were going to toss out an idea of us working together, temporarily, to--"

"Oh, fuck no," said Cendra. "I don't trust you any more than Esteban does." She was pleased to see Lemon couldn't entirely hide a wince at hearing Esteban's name. "But Chalandra wants to see him. She may overrule me on alliance-forging."

She carefully watched his expression, though the smiling mask he had up didn't waver. Nor did even a whisper of thought escape his head. Lemon had always been good at guarding his thoughts--there was much that happened that could've been prevented if he hadn't--but never *this* good. For the first time in years, she felt a temptation to use the telepathic portion of her abilities to go in and see what he was hiding. As they were not in the middle of a violent struggle, nor was there anything else at the moment to justify such an invasion, she held back.

But, if she was being honest with herself--and she always tried to be that, even when it hurt--she wanted to. Badly.

"I do hope Mrs. Harkness overrules you," said Gigawatt, interrupting her thoughts. "With apologies, Cendra. I really want to continue this discussion."

She could almost see the wheels spinning behind Lemon's eyes.

"He doesn't travel much," Lemon began. "Mainly, on account of everybody thinking he's been dead for a century-and-a-quarter, but also on the account of being really really old."

Cendra's eyes narrowed. Time to tug the thread hard.

"She asked for him by name."

This widened Lemon's eyes.

"She asked... does she know he's the... does she know *him?*"

"Chalandra Harkness is a centuries-old vampire," said Cendra. "I imagine she could know anybody... and Cartier could keep it out of his journals, or maybe just from you. Or maybe *her* information source is just good at getting the goods on people who think they're unreachable."

She didn't say who she was thinking of, and he didn't ask. She expected he already was thinking of the same person.

"I'll ask," Lemon finally said. He looked around, and then at his watch, seeming relieved that only a half-hour had passed. "Anything else?"

"Not right now--"

"But there is!" Gigawatt exclaimed. "There is a crisis! A crisis only you, Ms. Seconds, can address!"

Shelby, Bhossi, and Cla'rabhelle all sighed. Cendra didn't think they were sighs that boded good things.

"What is it?"

"Look around! Around at what I have been able to decipher of the hidden history of... all this! The Hidden Empire! The nectarisite that forms this vessel! The conspiracies that work to keep all of this obscured! Do you not see the crisis presaged by this morning's theft?"

Cendra looked around. No crisis made itself unmissable.

"Er... no..."

Gigawatt jumped on the table and waved his arms wide.

"WE'RE OUT OF YARN!"

Cendra blinked.

"Yarn?"

"We ran out late this morning, after I was connecting the theft of the Heart of Mu to James Churchward's most radical unpublished theories about the fate of Atlantis and the reasons the Reptiloids allied with a group of Burrollans and a werewolf pack in the attempt to take down the Roburtron's top secret airship, _The Albatross,_ in 1897, when suddenly... OUT OF YARN!"

"The usual nearby hobby shops have stopped returning our calls," Shelby said, sounding mildly embarassed. "They have become rather ill-willed toward us, ever since the last time the Doc ran out of yarn and then went out and pillaged every Hobby Lobby in a six-mile radius."

Cendra fumed. "I wasn't... *informed*... about that, was I?"

"He took a vacation day for it," Bhossi said.

"That is why he started ripping up his clothes," said Cla'rabhelle. "Fabric links, until a new supply can be secured."

Gigawatt narrowed his eyes.

"Agent Rydell, Ms. Seconds," he said, "partially, this crisis is one of opportunity, where some or all of the underground civilizations of Terra Subterrene could go to war with one another, or us, to possess the Heart of Mu and its dimension-bridging capabilities. Partially it is a crisis of need, as the Hidden Empire may be faced with an existential crisis that only retrieving the Heart could begin--begin!--to mitigate, and they may be desperate enough to take on Terra Subterrene *and* us for it. Partially it is a crisis of historical galactic intrigue, involving the Reptiloids and other spacefaring races and their meddling with our world in the ancient past. Partially it is a crisis of deep time, and entities I have only barely *begun* to fathom, but who are wound up in Earth's history and are deeply invested in seeing that its future goes their way."

He hopped down from the desk, and stepped close to Cendra and Lemon. Both eyes twitched, though they couldn't agree on a rhythm.

"But mostly..." he whispered. "It's about..."

"Yarn?" Lemon asked.

"YAAAAAAAAAARN!" Gigawatt yelled. He then scampered behind the desk, ducked down, and peered over the top.

Cendra glared for several seconds, then smoothed her horizontalized hair.

"I'll have China put in a PhootDash order," she said, with an impression of calm she wasn't even close to feeling. "Come on, Lemon... I've got to get to the bridge, and you've got to get... someplace other than here."

"You got that right," said Lemon. "Hope to chat with you folks later."

YAAAAAAAAAARN!" Gigawatt cried.

(continued in part two, following...)

--
Subtler Than Light #3 (c) 2023 by Gary W. Olson. All Rights Reserved.

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