Not Your Sidekick (20 page)

“It's possible. But what are they doing with all these villains? And did you get any information on your parents?”

Abby brings up one of the last documents.
Phillip and Genevieve Monroe.
“They're alive,” she says. “This doesn't say where they are, though. Just that someone—and Orion—has been keeping tabs on them.”

“This isn't a health report. This looks like… something about mining?”

Abby reads the file Jess brought up and whistles. “Yeah, I thought as much. It's tantalum.”

Jess' mouth falls open. Tantalum is incredibly rare, and is one of the few metals that dampen meta-abilities.

“My dad used to say whoever controlled the source would have the lead on creating any new technology. The North American Collective has some, but this report is from Constavia.”

“And they're not part of the Global Federation,” Jess says. “Aren't they at war with the Kravian Islands?”

Jess reads the report again. “This says the Collective sent them airships. And guns.” A wave of nausea rushes over her, and Jess suddenly feels like being sick. “Are we… Our country is part of this?” The only thing she knows about the war in the Kravian Islands is that people are dying every day, are injured, are suffering, but the news reports only comment on how sad it is, and that the NAC isn't involved at all, and that the European Union should do something about it.

“The news. It's all about the heroes fighting the villains, all the time… no one would even know about any of this,” Jess says. “Are these battles staged?”

“Pretty much. It's the way the NAC does things. I mean, I didn't know about the war in the Kravian Islands part, but yeah.”

“Okay, we have to talk to Captain Orion. See what she knows about your parents and what all this means. What if she's being forced into it? Or maybe she's just carrying this information because the NAC told her to look at it? What if she's trying to stop it?”

Abby nods. “More information is good. We don't know where they are. But we don't know where Orion is, either.”

Jess grins. “Social media does.” She flicks at the DED on her wrist and quickly thumbs to the app for the Captain Orion Fan Club. A quick scroll shows excitement for the exhibit, and then news that Orion is going to a party in the fancy end of town. There are already pictures of her shaking hands with the mayor at the country club up in the canyons. “So do you think you're ready to fly?”

Flying with Abby is an
experience. Jess has flown before, remembers the thrill of the rush of wind and the exhilaration of being in the sky and the trust it takes. It's a quick flight, only ten minutes, but she remembers every second of Abby's metal arms circling her waist with the chill of the evening air surrounding them.

They land neatly in the back of the country club where caterers are preparing appetizers.

“Do you think she's all tapped out? Recharging for tomorrow?” Jess asks.

“She should be.”

They hunker in the bushes, waiting. Jess checks her fan club feed; apparently Orion is leaving soon, she's already said goodbye to the mayor.

They drift unseen overhead as Orion, in a glamorous evening dress, clambers into her Town Car. They follow the car and wait until it's on a private road winding up the cliffside outside Andover. A light shines from a modern-looking building nestled into the rock face.
Orion's Andover home, perhaps?

Abby concentrates, reaches out with her hands, and the car screeches to a halt. They land behind the car, their feet gently coming to rest on the concrete.

Abby steps forward, arms out in front of Jess, ready for action. Jess appreciates the gesture, but she isn't going to be left behind. Powerless she may be, but she's not helpless. She can confront her… hero.

The driver gets out of the car and inspects the engine. Abby throws her arms out, huffing with effort, and car parts fly out of the hood and rearrange around her, trapping her where she stands before she can speak.

Jess walks forward and opens the back door.

“Good, are we almost there? I can't wait to—oh, you're not Minnie,” Orion says, looking up from her DED.

“We need to talk,” Jess says.

Ch.11...

Orion blinks at Jess, and then her face widens in an automatic smile. “Oh, I remember you! You're from the Fan Club, right? Did you not leave with an autograph? Here, what can I sign for you?”

Jess pulls up a copy of the report on tantalum mining in Constavia on her DED and throws the projection at Orion. “What's this all about?”

Orion's face tightens, and her eyes narrow. “How'd you get that? And where did you… how did you know where I was?” She stands up, looming.

Jess walks backward as Orion gets out of the car. In the early evening light, she looks cold and menacing. Her hair flaps in the wind.

“Who are you?”

“I just want to know what this means. And where the Mischiefs are, and all the other villains who've disappeared the past few months,” Jess says.

Orion's laugh is hard and shrill. “You must be one of those conspiracy theorists. They're getting younger and younger each year.” She raises her hands and stretches her fingers. “What should I do with you? A little lightning zap should take care of that memory of yours. Then again, it's not an exact science. I might just fry all your brain cells. It'd be worth it, though.”

Abby lands in front of Jess with a loud
clunk
. “Where are they? Tell us where they are!”

Orion's eyes widen. “You… Wait, you attacked me at the museum earlier! And you're not Master Mischief! Who are you?”

Abby holds out her arms, and the car behind them crunches into a twisted wreck, lifting up to surround Captain Orion. “Tell me where my parents are!”

“Oh, so you're the brat,” Orion says. “Looks like you've inherited your mother's talent for telekinesis. Too bad, this little show must have depleted all your energy for today. And wearing your father's suit, how touching.” She lifts her hands in her trademark lightning-zap move.

“And you're tapped out,” Abby says.

Orion laughs. “That's what you think.”

She lifts her finger and points, and all Jess can see is the burst of white-hot energy rushing toward them. A searing pain flares in her chest and then she knows no more.

Jess is suspended in that
moment, hit by that lightning blast over and over again. Then she realizes the aching pain in her chest is residual, not active. The throbbing radiates outward up her neck and down to her belly button. Jess can still feel the heat resonating, and she tries not to move. Every breath is an ordeal.

The crackling of white-hot light in front of her is a crosshatch of energy, and Orion is standing behind it, giving her the disdainful look one might give to a bug trapped in a glass. Behind Orion is an impeccable living room with designer furniture and sheer glass walls that reveal a stunning view of Andover and the desert night. The moon has risen, casting ominous shapes from the cacti in the distance.

A shadow moves and Jess is terrified for a second until she sees the creature come into the light—a cat. She has no idea what breed it is, but it looks like one of the fancier ones, not that any carnivorous pet isn't a ridiculous luxury only for the rich and powerful. This one has immaculate white fur and is wearing a gleaming blue collar with a tag in the shape of a star.

Something inside Jess bristles; she's never met
anyone
who had an actual pet before, even the wealthy Robledos don't have one. There are plenty of feral dogs and cats roaming the wilds outside cities, but keeping domesticated ones fell out of practice in the time of the Disasters. Most of the holos that circulate on the Net are fascinating pieces of history, showing the way people used to document their pets' antics. In the past few decades, a pet has become a status symbol among the affluent.

The cat licks its paws and regales Jess with a scornful look before turning around and walking away, tail raised high in the air. It pauses to lap at a delicate trickling water feature in the center of the room.

Jess is appalled. Orion's home has a
fountain
in it, and she doesn't even live in Andover. How much time does she spend here, anyway?

In the middle of the living room, out of place among the clean lines of the designer furniture, is a grim-looking metal chair. Abby is sitting in it, secured to it by metal cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She isn't wearing her suit, and Jess can't see it anywhere in the room. Orion must have gotten rid of it.

Abby doesn't look injured, but there's weariness on her face and defiant determination in the set of her jaw.

Abby and Orion glare at each other.

“That doesn't even make sense,” Abby says.

It seems they've been talking for a while.

Captain Orion paces as she talks. “Oh, of course it makes sense, brat. I mean, you are nothing more than part of the NAC plan for creating more meta-humans and controlling the ones we have. Of course, we can play with radiation all we like, but we can't come close to duplicating the effects of X29. All we can count on is that meta-humans will continue to propagate, especially with each other, so we can have more meta-humans in the future. The meta-gene has been studied by many scientists, but so far they can't figure out how to make it express itself one hundred percent of the time.”

Jess reaches out for Abby, wanting to do something, anything, to make a gesture of comfort somehow. The barrier crackles like hot electricity when her fingers near it, and she draws back immediately.

It's gonna be okay,
Abby mouths at her. Jess nods and then notices Abby's DED sticking out of her pocket, recording Orion as she talks.

Orion isn't even looking at them now; she just stares off into the gleaming lights of Andover in the distance. A poster spanning the length of the wall behind her depicts her in almost the exact same pose.

“The most we can do to ensure meta-humans in the future is to pair two and see if their child will exhibit any meta-abilities. However, this isn't foolproof, as even if you have high-powered parents, you could still have a low-powered child or a child without any powers at all. Furthermore, no one really understands how to control—if there is a way to control the extent of the powers—how long you can use your powers without rest, or what abilities get passed on.”

“I was lucky to inherit all my grandfather's powers,” Orion continues, “but I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm not A-class. I'm C-class, and I take supplements to help me maintain my level of ability. It gives me a certain advantage, you know, especially when someone thinks my power resources have been tapped out. The supplements are created by NAC research and are only available to a select few.”

Jess gasps.
Captain Orion has been modifying her own powers with the help of the government?

“The NAC needs to have a clear understanding of all meta-humans in its jurisdiction, to know that it can employ any number of them at any time, and to know the extent of all abilities. Now, take Smasher and Shockwave, for example.”

Jess grits her teeth.
Are they targeting my parents? Are my parents in danger?

“Now, we don't have any history of their gene pool to see how much of the meta-gene is present in their family history. What we do know is that they have formidable powers, but are severely limited by how much they can use their powers at any given time. They need to recharge. It's the problem with the C-class, it's unpredictable—how much time they will need to get their powers back. I've see Smasher pick up the Brooklyn Bridge on her own, but then I didn't see her for two months. Supposedly, she was recuperating.”

Jess remembers this. Three years ago, her mom had used a huge amount of effort to stop that bridge from collapsing, and was sick in bed for ages afterward. She was so weak and tired, she couldn't even walk very far.

“It's preposterous,” Captain Orion continues. “New Bright City is
my
town. I don't know what she was doing there, but I was on a mission and all of a sudden she said, ‘
Oh, Captain Orion, the League didn't send me but I can help!'
”
Orion shakes her head, sneering.

Li Hua had gone to New Bright City for a real estate conference, and not hero work at all. She was trying to get better at her cover job. Jess clenches her fists.
What is that accent? Her mother doesn't talk like that.

“The Heroes' League was generous enough to let Smasher have her own little city. They should be grateful that we let them in the Associated League; I'm appalled they even applied. Can you imagine? Refugees from the Southeast Asian Alliance in the League? Please. How would that look on the cereal boxes? I mean, we've got Copycat, but he wears a full-face mask. But Smasher and Shockwave go gallivanting all over Andover with just flimsy eye masks; everyone knows that they aren't—well, you know. The ideal.”

Orion flips her hair and grins. Her teeth sparkle ominously.

Jess rushes forward to push against the barrier and gets shocked for her trouble. She gasps, shaking with pain, and Orion just keeps talking.

“And the rule is they stick to their town. They take care of the antics from that villain couple—those Mischiefs. Another waste of talent gone to C-class. Can you imagine how powerful a technopath and a telekinetic could be together if they weren't limited to using their powers every once in a blue moon?”

Jess wants to scream, but her mouth is numb.

Captain Orion laughs. “The solution seemed easy. All we needed were meta-humans to test on. The Registration act was a godsend—my father took care of that. But after that we needed to keep the meta-humans in line, to make sure that those with the power to create an uprising never got around to that. We did what was easy. Divide and conquer. Make sure a few people got a slice of the pie, and everyone else worked hard and had someone to blame for their losses.”

“The villains,” Jess says. “It's all—It's all a setup, nothing is real.”

Orion glances at her, but doesn't give her more acknowledgment than a slight huff before turning back to Abby. “Well, some things are, more or less. The Mischiefs, all they had to do was keep to their town. Phillip Monroe, what a blessing in disguise—we had his patents, his technological knowhow, and he was already making so much money with his dumb MonRobots. How uninspired, using this amazing technology to do menial chores!”

“MonRobots are for everyone!” Abby shouts. “Everyone deserves the chance to have affordable help around the house.”

“We needed
more.
We knew that Philip had created plans for the MonRobots to do everything from cooking to cleaning to acting as personal assistants. But he scrapped the best idea, the home security feature. What a waste. Imagine having a capable A.I. follow you, ready to take down any threat. Of course, Phillip said the project was too risky.”

Abby shakes her head; her mouth is slack. “What did you do to my dad? Where's my mom? You better not have hurt them, you better not—”

Orion laughs. “You're in no position to do anything about it,” she says.

She steps closer, grin widening. Jess is reminded of that commercial that played on repeat: Captain Orion's dazzling smile here to sell you everything from toothpaste to makeup. It's always seemed so bright and cheery. In person, it's terrifying.

Orion leans over to look at Abby. “You were actually the kicker. We had you picked for Meta-Human Training very early, but always were set to send you down the villain path. Your parents only wanted the best for you. We promised them that you would be put on the hero track if they cooperated with us on the MonRobots. This only worked for a short while, and then Philip wouldn't give us his codes.”

“It's a shame. Abby Monroe, once this gets out, you're going to be the biggest villain in the world. After all, capturing North American Collective's favorite, Captain Orion, and then trying to kill her in her own home? You were perfect for this role. You're the spitting image of your mother, right down to your C-class telekinesis.”

“That's where you have me wrong,” Abby says. She takes a deep breath, and then closes her eyes.

“Jess
, run!
”

And then all hell breaks loose.

Abby's restraints fall to the ground, metal and circuits crackle everywhere, and then bits and pieces rearrange in mid-air. Metal panels rip off the wall. Orion's desktop projector disassembles itself, and the computer console falls apart and remakes itself. Abby is at the center of a vortex of circuits. Whirling parts come together to create another mecha-suit.

“Let's go,” Abby says. She picks Jess up and flies out the window.The mismatched metal fragments of her makeshift suit rattle and quake in the oncoming wind.

“Orion's gonna chase us. How far can we get?” Jess asks.

“Far enough to hide. And hopefully somewhere where I will have enough time and parts to make a better suit. Also, Orion's a C-class, even if she was taking supplements. She was talking a whole bunch before you woke up, and I know how that stuff works. You have to constantly boost yourself, otherwise you'll fall back to whatever level you were before. And your body builds up an immunity to it after time, so she'd have to take more and more, at shorter intervals,” Abby says. “She needs to rest. She can't fly right now, after all that, and she hasn't been boosting since she got back to her place. We can get out of here.”