Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series) (37 page)

Once the ship was still and the engines off, the only sound we could hear was from the heavy winds buffeting us at high altitude. As we filed out, Moe shifted in front of me, facing me down with his head cocked to one side for maximum threatening effect, and cracked his knuckles before turning and following his crew. The last to leave was Superdynamic, who wanted a heart-to-heart as we crossed the light bridge. I have to admit it was one of the weirdest experiences of my life, to walk on solid light, and I’ve been to a different galaxy and seen bubble aliens.

“Moe’s a lot tougher than you give him credit for,” he said strolling casually, his long stride forcing me to walk faster to stay in tow, making me swallow all my apprehension at walking on a beam of light if I intended to keep with the conversation.

“The guy’s a walking cliche.”

Superdynamic chuckled.

“Before we go any further,” he said. “I need something from you.”

“What’s that?”

“I need your word.”

“Didn’t Apogee vouch for me?”

He shook his head. “I’m vouching for you. That’s the only reason we’re not strapping you back into Utopia.”

I looked down, a bit ashamed and curious as to what Apogee said about me.

“But we’re not there, we’re here. That alone should tell you where I’m coming from. This is my home, my sanctum, and you’re here as a guest.”

“I get it. You don’t want me to break any of your pretty stuff.”

“Or any of the people here,” he said and my nod was enough to satisfy him that I would behave. “Come on,” he continued, turning down the boarding ramp.

Outside, a half-dozen techs in blue jumpsuits were already at work checking the plane and refueling her.

“Nine man-hours of service and repair for every hour of actual flight,” he beamed.

“That sounds like a lot,” I said.

“No, it’s a lot less of what it takes to keep an average F-22 in service. They’ve got a 24-1 ratio. We’ve totally revolutionized the process. We’ll be sharing it with the Defense departments of most friendly nations and saving them millions, hell, billions.”

He stopped suddenly, “Blackjack…I know you’re in a hurry to go help Apogee, but you need to understand the situation. We have to make sure our next move is the right one. This team I’m putting together is still young and untested. I can’t just go flying off the handle. And besides, we’ve lost contact with everyone who’s just rushed in there.”

I nodded. “I understand. By the way, what’s Mirage’s problem? Is he a jealous ex or something?”

Superdynamic laughed, “Of Apogee’s? No, not at all. He’s…fatherly, I guess. You have to understand, Chen knows her longer than anyone. But don’t mind him, okay? I’ve asked him to do the same. And please, be patient.”

“I’ll be patient,” I said, but he just went on, over me.

“I’ve got the whole tower working on this. As soon as we know what’s happening for sure, and how to help, we’ll get moving.”

“How long?”

He shrugged.

“Four, maybe five hours? More than that and we’ll be too late to the party.”

Superdynamic cocked his head suddenly, cupping his right ear.

“Hang on,” he said then spoke to someone through his comms system. “This is Superdynamic, go ahead…I understand,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

“What’s going on?”

He just put his hand up to silence me a moment.

“Sorry,” he said. “Wait right here and someone will take care of you. I have...something’s come up.”

Superdynamic took to the air and flew away, staying high enough that he didn’t have to dodge the dozens of people strolling through the halls. They didn’t seem to care that he flew a few feet over their heads.

I had no chaperone, so I decided to roam a little.

As beautiful as it was on the outside, the Tower’s interiors were even more impressive, with styling out of a Disney wet dream, white and clean, and lighting that seemed to come from everywhere. The floors were pristine, and small machines moved along with the people, keeping the place clean. The inhabitants of Superdynamic’s dream-come-true came in three different kinds: techs, scientists and guards. The techs wore the same tight leather jumpsuits as Superdynamic, except pale whitish-blue instead of gleaming silver, with some sort of electronic collar around their necks that interfaced with the rest of the suit. They walked in small numbers, the lighting of their collars giving them some weird illumination as they moved through the halls. It was interesting that they didn’t speak, even to each other, but their faces mimicked the expression of someone talking, some even going as far as mouthing gestures. The scientists, I called because they wore the same jumpsuits as the techs but also had long white lab coats, with pockets brimming with pad computers and other equipment. I saw a few of them, usually surrounded by techs. They would speak to the techs as if they were subordinates. They also had the neck collars, but these were more elaborate, and connected to earplugs and goggles like an Olympic swimmer would wear, only lacking the leather strap. The guards were soldiers, wearing a heavier version of Superdynamic’s suit. I could tell they were security because they either roamed in pairs or stood at hallway intersections, watching the busy throngs move past. They noticed me and nodded, as if the place’s security was well aware of my little excursion, but they did nothing to stop me, nor did they seem to have any weapons with which to do it. In fact, their demeanor was friendly and even kind, completely opposite of what you’d expect from a security detail.

Then again, there was a lot about this place that was odd.

I found a wide viewscreen overlooking the growing city that surrounded the tower.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” said Focus, who had silently walked up to me.

She had changed her garb, now wearing a white silk robe with a gray crane flying across her chest. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a pair of tails, with a pink hairclip bearing the same crane symbol. Her pants were a matching white silk, and she wore a pair of black slippers, Bruce Lee-style. I got a better look at the gold arm circlet and noticed it was engraved with the same crane. She wore blush-colored lipstick on her small lips and subtle pink eye shadow, and her eyebrows were thin wisps, long and straight. Her facial features were a dichotomous combination of softness from her young skin and a severe look of the eyebrows and small mouth.

“It’s something,” I said, trying not to be too obvious that I was giving her a once-over. She smiled, blushing slightly, so I guess I failed miserably.

“I’ve been sent to fetch you,” she said.

“Let me guess,” I said, adding; “Ten by ten, a cot and a pot,” but I only confused her. “A prison cell,” I said.

She measured her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand, “No, Mr. Blackjack. Just regular guest quarters. You will no doubt want to bathe and...change clothing.” Focus looked at what I wore and raised an eyebrow.

“Lead on, then.”

We walked through some halls to an elevator that took us higher. I noticed how uncomfortable she seemed, not speaking to me at all, and reverted to my usual nervous-joking ways.

“This tour sucks, by the way.”

She cocked her head, “Pardon me?”

“Well, the tour leader...she won’t give us the full spiel, you know? I paid fifty bucks for this ride.” I tried to be as deadpan as possible, but she misunderstood me, apparently unused to sarcasm and irony.

“I...I don’t know–”

“Fifty bucks,” I laid it on. “And I don’t even get a bit on the place, how it’s built or whatever. I mean, I waited forty-five minutes in line to get on this ride.”

She just looked at me with her mouth wide open, and eyes narrowed, half angry and half bewildered.

“I’m joking,” I said.

Focus blushed again, giving her head a little flutter-recoil as if she were trying to regain her composure. She did this cute thing where she shook her head ever-so-slightly, moving her lips as if the internal conversation she was having was spilling outward.

The door opened, saving her from more of my humor, and she flashed a fake smile and motioned for me to follow her. Again, she led in silence, taking me through an area that had the feel of housing, with a large cafeteria that was full with the dinner crowd. It smelled like some sort of meat, like BBQ, and I almost abandoned my escort to get some food.

“Perhaps you should bathe first,” she said, noticing that I had paused at the door, looking inside the cafeteria at the diners as if I was a ravenous wolf ready to steal a kill.

“Do I really look that bad?”

She nodded.

“Really, really?”

Focus raised an eyebrow, “You look like a homeless person, Mr. Blackjack.”

“Probably smell like one too,” I chuckled.

She leaned closer, took a sniff and nodded.

“Ok, a shower and shave then I’m having whatever they’re serving there,” I said, walking after her again. As I caught up, I gave her bottom a little peek, but she turned and saw me looking.

“Is something wrong?” she said, arching around to look behind her, as if she had a spider on her back or something.

“Nothing,” I said, moving on, and when she came beside me, I noticed her fighting off another bout of blushing. She had a light skin tone that did little to conceal her shyness.

“Here,” she said a moment later, as we reached a door that opened as we approached.

Inside was a simple antechamber with a couch/chair combo and a mini-kitchen. Beyond, another door lead to the bedroom.

“The public mess will be open for another hour,” she said. “So you have time.”

I took a step inside, noticing the slight accents and decorations meant to make the place homey, including a wide HD screen that played a looping video of a fireplace, the low mood lighting, the strategically positioned palms and table plants, and the scattered recessed lighting.

“Mess?” I said, pretending to be confused. “How will I ever find the way?”

She smiled, starting to become accustomed to my little game.

“It’s that way, Mr. Blackjack,” she said, pointing down the hall. “We just walked past it.”

“Ah,” I said. “What if I get lost?”

Focus chuckled.

“You are being monitored at all times.”

“I mean, what if I’m scared to eat by myself? You eat, right?”

She looked down, thankful at the shadows that played over her face.

“I have duties, forgive me.”

I pretended to be sad. “Nice, I offend you. It’s the smell, isn’t it?”

Focus got serious again.

“No, no,” she said. “I’m needed on the command deck. You see, we are investigating the happenings in your country’s capital, and the disappearances of the other major superhero teams. I would normally not mind accompanying you. If I hadn’t eaten already, that is. So you see–”

She stopped, seeing the big smile on my face, again confused.

“I’m joking,” I said, and crimson danced along her cheeks.

“I’m...sorry. I’m not used to your humor,” she said. “Perhaps Superdynamic will assign a different one of us, Moe perhaps, who will be more suitable conversation for you.”

I laughed. “You tell Superdynamic, from me, that I couldn’t ask for a finer hostess.”

Again, that baffled look, not sure if I was joking or not.

“Bathroom that way, I suppose?” I said pointing through the doorway. “If you’ll forgive me, I have to go get beautiful.”

I turned and stripped off my shirt, heading into the other room. I had to admit that confounding Focus was more fun than I had expected, and I would have given anything to have seen her facial expression as she stood there watching me enter the bathroom bare-chested.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

One thing I remembered was her warning about the kitchen closing soon, so my shower and shave were fast, fastest in ages. The only clothing they had available in the room were one of those tech jumpsuits for men and one for women, but when I pulled it off the hanger, it looked designed for a small child.

“Great,” I said, measuring it against my body. Stepping on the toe to stretch it up, it reached only to my belly button.

I went to the door and it opened automatically. Covering my privates with the tech suit and crouching against the doorway, I leaned out a bit, whispering at the pair of techs that were walking past. It was a Middle Eastern fellow with a Slavic blonde woman, obviously a couple by how close they were walking together.

“Hey,” I said, almost scaring the crap out of them. “Where can I get some clothes?”

The woman shook her head, but her boyfriend/husband seemed to get a kick out of my plight.

“I did the same thing,” he said, giggling.

“Did what?”

“It’s flexible,” he replied.

She pointed at the tech suit at my midsection. “It will stretch to your size. No one told you?”

I shrugged. “The tour guide sucked. Fifty bucks!” I said, going back inside.

Once the door closed (it had a ten-second delay), I sat on the bed, naked, and stuck my foot into the suit. As the woman had said, the thing was the most flexible material I had ever seen, expanding to fit my big hoof, even though it looked too narrow to fit. In fact, once I had placed my foot as far as it went, the rest was still bunched up, and there didn’t seem to be enough material to stretch my 6’5” frame.

“Oh well,” I said, pulling the material apart and forcing my other foot in, then standing and stretching the whole thing up. The fabric gave wonderfully, and I was able to fit my arms and shoulders in without straining. It didn’t have a zipper or Velcro on the front flap (or had I just put it on backwards?), but once I tugged it closed, the material sealed anyway.

I walked over to the small mirror in the bathroom and took a look.

“I’m like a bigger, badder Superdynamic,” I said, though why I was talking to myself, I didn’t know.

Maybe I was just making sure this was all real.

I stormed out of the room and into the kitchen, which was now far less busy, and walked over to the serving area. One of the cooks was wrapping a salad tray with a roll of plastic covering that came out of a forearm attachment to his suit.

“I’ll open it for you, if you want,” he said, not recognizing and giving me a curious look.

“Meat,” I said, almost salivating. “I need meat.”

I walked past him to the rest of the setup, assaulted by the aroma of real food, for the first time in as long as I could remember. Grabbing a plastic tray that was slightly wet (some things never change) and a plate, I moved past the salad and crap at the start of the line to a tray of steaks and threw four on my plate, overloading it. I took another plate and filled it with about a pound of sides like potatoes, mac and cheese with bacon, and green beans. The utensils looked made out of ceramic, tiny and useless for a big, hungry guy like me, but I took them anyway and sat down at a table without bothering with napkins or a drink.

And I ate like an animal.

I only paused once, looking around at the folks who sat near me, a few of which were curious at my ravenous display.

“Sorry,” I said, munching through some T-bone steak fat. “I’ve been in a mind-prison for over a year, then I got lost in Australia on a walkabout and then I had to fight like two hundred super villains all at once. Make anyone hungry.”

“I imagine so,” someone said behind me, and I turned to see Focus standing there.

She smiled.

“You have nothing to drink,” she said. “Would you like something sweetened, or will water suffice?”

“Thought you were busy,” I said as she walked over to the drink station. “And water will be fine, thank you.”

Focus picked up a ceramic glass and poured water from the dispenser.

“Ice or no ice?”

“No ice is fine.”

“I figured to check on you,” she said, coming back and placing the glass in front of me.

“Thank you.”

“I had to make sure you didn’t get lost on your way to the kitchen. You’re welcome.”

She walked around and sat in front of me.

“Damn,” I snapped. “Now I have to mind my manners.”

“It’s okay,” she said, pulling a small pad computer from her back pocket. “I brought something to read, so I can pretend you are displaying the proper etiquette.”

I smiled.

“You’re learning Blackjack-speak,” I said. “Most impressive.”

She thought about it for a second and smiled. “I asked for advice from Moe when I was at the control center.”

“Oh? What’d he say?”

Focus looked down at her pad, “I’m not sure I should say.”

“No, come on,” I said taking a massive cut of meat. “It’s not like you’re going to embarrass me.”

She eyed me for a second, watching me butcher the steak in my mouth, wincing a little from the sight. The girl was probably a vegetarian, especially in light of how slim she was, and here I was eating half a cow.

“Well, one of the things he said was to not take anything you said very seriously. To pretend that everything you say or do is an attempt at humor, probably because you feel uncomfortable with your present situation.”

I laughed, “That Moe’s pretty good.”

“He is a good friend,” she said. “It’s taken me a long time to get used to this way of life.”

“Oh?”

Focus brushed a strand hair out of her face, suddenly aware that she had opened the door on something that she wasn’t exactly prepared to talk about.

“Forget I asked,” I said, drinking some water. “I’m too damned nosy anyway.”

She looked at my glass and plate, almost empty already and stood.

“Would you like more? I can get it for you.”

“No, I’m a big boy, I can get it myself.”

“I just imagine that you must be tired,” she said, sitting back down.

I belched under my breath, covering my mouth with the napkin, “I’m okay, but I think I’m done eating for now, thanks.” The plates were empty, save for a bit of myoglobin juices on one, and one last bite of mashed potatoes on the other. I felt like eating more, but didn’t want to make more of a pig of myself than I already had.

She nodded with a little smile and looked at her pad.

“Is that all that Moe told you?”

Focus blushed again.

“It’s okay, you can tell me.”

She stared at me with her big brown eyes, wondering if she should divulge. Finally, she placed the pad on the table and inched forward, lacing her fingers together atop the table and leaning against her hands.

“He said you would try to seduce me,” she said in a low voice, her eyes wandering about the room.

“I lied,” I said. “You did embarrass me.”

Focus was suddenly worried, “Forgive me, I didn’t–”

I raised my arms, stopping her. “It’s ok.”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” she said.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“No, please. I know how difficult your...” she paused, searching for the proper word.

“Look, I’m the one that’s sorry.”

“...your situation has been. In particular with your relationship with Apogee.”

I cocked my head, swallowing hard at mention of that name. This only served to embarrass and trouble Focus further.

“I mean,” she fumbled, “what I mean, is that...Moe said...he volunteered this, you understand, I didn’t ask about it. Nor was I curious, in any way–”

“What did he say?”

She paused, shaking her head, totally flustered and frustrated.

“Tell me.”

Focus composed herself. “He said that you would be looking for some...alternative companionship,” she said, blushing.

I looked up at the ceiling, growing angry at myself for being so rude and disrespectful to the poor girl. What had started as having a little fun to break the monotony had totally backfired and made me look like a total asshole. But there was some truth in what Moe had warned her about, if only a shred. Focus was pretty, beautiful even, with an air of innocence that led me to believe that anything could be possible. Especially after how sexually intense the mind-prison had been, how severe my relationship with Claire had been.

“I’m sorry,” I said, interrupting her as she was going on, apologizing interminably. “I was just trying to be friendly. I’m sorry I’m such a Neanderthal sometimes.”

She was silent, watching me as I wiped my mouth.

I drank from the water and said, “You know, this is the best tasting water I’ve ever had in my life.”

Focus smiled, “It’s just water.”

“No, no, no. This is super water. Try it,” I said, handing her the cup.

“I’m sorry, I don’t drink or eat from other people’s....”

I chuckled.

“It’s a habit my father taught me, I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Well, it’s good water.”

“It is. I drink it all the time.”

“I tell you what,” I said, standing back up. “Give me the penny tour, and I might learn some manners and stop being such a classless monkey. Deal?”

“Of course.”

“Just one thing,” I said as we stood and walked out. “Don’t call me MISTER Blackjack. It’s not even my name, Blackjack. It’s just the stupid moniker, you know? My name is actually Dale.”

Focus paused, serious.

“We never use our real names, Blackjack. It’s done for our own protection.”

I nodded.

“Okay. Just Blackjack, then. Mister Blackjack was my dad,” I kidded as we walked on, but from the curious look she gave me, I could tell she didn’t know I was joking.

There was a frenetic pace among the tower’s inhabitants, with everyone involved in solving the mystery of D.C. Only the heavy equipment carousels travelled at slow speed, in fear they’d plaster a tech or two. But all in all it was impressive to see the resources that Superdynamic had available to him.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how alike he and I were. We were both polymaths with engineering and physics as our strong suits, yet he had used his considerable wealth and skill to create an oasis in the middle of one of the worst places on Earth, a haven amidst chaos of sectarian and tribal warfare, bringing food and security to millions. I had built some interesting arrows, and a pretty impressive generator.

Despite that, we were probably more dissimilar than not. He had spent his effort on helping others, while I had tried to become richer and more powerful. I knew that part of bringing me to his sanctum was to humble me, to show me my wasted potential. If he could build this, help so many people, with only an advanced mental capacity, imagine what I could do to help the world.

Then again, I built a wormhole-opening particle accelerator, traveling 2 kilo parsecs in the blink of an eye.

Focus did her best to keep up with my jibes and humor as we toured the facilities, but she was in way over her head.

“Where are you from?” I asked her after a long stretch of silence.

“A village,” she said, smiling. “No, really, it had no name. It was just ‘the village’ to us. It was located on the southern coast of Korea, fifty-seven miles from the nearest settlement.”

“Talk about small town,” I said. “Place doesn’t even have a name.”

She giggled, “It was a small community with a dozen families. My father had hoped I would follow him as a fisherman, but my little brothers will make up for my absence.”

We entered an elevator.

“How many brothers?”

“Six,” she said, as the elevator emptied. I guess the word was out that I was visiting and no one wanted to get too friendly. “The oldest is twelve, though. My father remarried after my mother passed away.”

“I had something like that happen too,” I said, not wanting to get into the sordid details of Doreen and Emmet Wellington, my stepmother and her sonofabitch brother.

“My stepmother is a lovely woman.”

“Mine, too,” I lied.

Without warning, a grinding of metal rang out that I could only imagine were the elevator’s breaks firing off as the lift came to a halt, and a moment later the lights flickered out.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “I’m back at Utopia for sure.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Utopia,” I joked. “You know, back at the...nevermind.”

“I’m sure it’s not a major problem,” she said.

I laughed, leaning against the wall. “I bet. Next thing you know, you’ll take off that China girl outfit and come cuddle up with me.”

She gasped, and for the next moment of silence, I was aware of her presence, huddling against the back wall of the elevator as if she was expecting me to rush her, to do something horrible.

“Hey, I was just kidding.”