Other People's Heroes (The Heroes of Siegel City) (42 page)

Nancy could feel, in the middle of the stillness, motion. It began somewhere in the north and it spread, branching out like roots, creeping down the whole of the world.

And he knew everything. Each time one of the roots stopped and touched a child, it asked the same question. The answers were almost never the same -- building blocks, a teddy bear, a football, a video game. She was feeling the entirety, the
now
, and with each stop, each time her companion gave of himself, his smile grew larger.

But for all her power, Nancy had to remember that she did not really
stop
time, just slow it down so much that its passage became imperceptible. And as time
did
creep, and as the first children woke up and found Christmas morning, the visitor’s smile grew brighter, his figure fuller and more robust and finally, after what felt to Nancy like centuries, the job was done and the twinkle in his eye was so bright that she had only seen its like once before, in Edward’s last moments, and she cried out in grief and joy as she finally released her power and allowed the world to begin again.

When she awoke to a larger, warmer world, she was surprised to find her friend still there, looking plump and jolly and quite convincing, even to a faithless cynic like herself.

The sun shone in her window and she realized she’d slept the whole night right there on the floor of her office. And although she was tired, she’d never felt more alive.

“What are you?” she asked. “What are you really?”

“I’m old Saint Nick.”

“Oh I know that,” she said, “But
what
are you? You’re not normal, not a man... not even a jolly old elf.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’ve met elves?”

“I have, actually,” she said. “I used to be in a pretty eclectic line of work, you may recall. But you’re something else. What? An alien? Ghost? Some sort of funky interdimensional spirit?”

He stood up and shook himself. He lifted a hand to his face, but before he made contact, he nodded to her desk. “It’s Christmas morning, Nancy. Open your present.”

And then he lay a finger aside of his nose, and he was gone.

Nancy lifted the small package from her desk, the one with the wild, multicolored cords in the wrapping. The other one was a memory, was the
past
. What then, was this?

She opened the top and peered in and, like before, she was consumed by light.

The vision was different this time, not a memory, not even something that definitely belonged to
her,
but she knew it was real. She saw Jay, first, not as he was years ago, but as he was now, stronger and prouder, but with sadder eyes. He was in uniform, in battle, the way she always thought of him.

And he was not alone.

At his side was a young man -- no older than she herself had been when she last became Lightning -- wearing a modified version of the uniform Edward used to wear, only darker, with muted colors. He wore it well.

And standing with them both, clad in his own uniform, looking not a day older than he had the last time she saw him, looking even stronger and prouder than ever, was Edward himself. Alive, and breathing, and fighting on.

And the vision ended. The package and the wrapping glittered away into thin air, and she felt a rush of warmth envelop her.

If the first package was the
past
...

She got up, showered, and dressed in her most warmest, most festive clothes, then turned her powers on herself, speeding up enough so that the journey to Siegel City would take no time at all. Walking through her living room, she stopped and looked at the row of figurines on her bookshelf. Before she left she took the newest figure, “Our 13th Christmas Together,” and turned it around to face the room and the decorations, turned it away from the magazine on the shelf with Edward’s picture on the cover, turned it so that the little boy and the little girl were finally looking ahead.

Inciting Incident

Last summer I received word from Scott Roche, a fellow podcast author whose work I quite admire, that he was working on a new eBook science fiction anthology called Flagship. When I heard the theme of the first issue would be “Origins,” the following story came to me I was honored to be included in the first edition of Flagship, from Flying Island Press. You can check out Scott’s stuff at
www.spiritualtramp.com
or buy back issues of Flagship as an audiobook or an eBook from
www.flyingislandpress.com
. This story takes place a few years prior to
Other People’s Heroes
.

According to his figures, if he jumped from the roof of Simon Tower, it would take Ethan Hellig approximately 47 seconds to hit the ground. He had no intention of hitting the ground, of course, but standing as he was on the precipice, it was rather impossible not to ponder the numbers.

The experiment was untested, after all. He had every reason to believe it would work, that the apparatus he was wearing would perform perfectly, that the variables would all align as predicted… but even the most assured prediction was just that until he put it to the test. And this wasn’t exactly the sort of test he could attempt on a gerbil first. It would have to be all him.

He checked his helmet, checked the straps on his mechanical wings and rocket booster, triple-checked the status of the energy reservoir. “Here goes nothing,” he mumbled, mostly because he felt such a moment called for words of some kind and nothing better occurred to him. Holding his breath, he stepped into the air.

He’d been skydiving before, but this wasn’t really the same thing. Jumping from a plane, you were completely out in the open, falling through nothing. Now he was falling down through a chute of steel and concrete, acutely aware of the buildings on every side of him. In the open air, you could fool yourself into thinking you were flying. Here, most definitely, Ethan was falling.

His wings did nothing, the rocket he was wearing did less, but he’d stopped falling. He looked around to see the buildings drifting down, the ground becoming distant, and he looked up to see Dr. Noble. The top hero of Siegel City, at least for the last year or two, had caught him under the arms and was carrying him upwards, away from what would probably have been assured destruction.

Noble was your all-American superhero – he flew, he was strong, he even draped himself in the colors of the flag. As he caught Ethan, though, Ethan felt a tickle of static and the hair on his arms stood up. Noble had some considerable energy powers in his repertoire as well, and although he wasn’t throwing around energy bolts right now, there was a constant buzz in the air around him. Ethan could hear a buzz coming from the energy reservoir on his chest, which started to glow green and it didn’t stop until Noble dropped him off on the roof. The Simon Tower observation deck was closed for the evening, but Ethan was small in stature and had gotten very good at hiding in places he shouldn’t be until people were gone. Simon Tower was the hub of superhuman activity in Siegel City, but despite that the villains rarely attacked the building itself. It was strange, but for what he was trying to do, Ethan was more interested in the heroes anyway.

“Let me guess,” Noble said, looking him over, tapping the metal wings. “You built a jetpack that’s supposed to let you fly so that you can become a superhero too.”

Ethan stammered. “Uh… well…”

“Oh, take off that stupid helmet.” He grabbed the shell around Ethan’s head and pulled it off, leaving a red mark on Ethan’s chin where the strap rubbed against it. He handed the helmet back. “I’ve seen it a thousand times. Let me tell you something, buddy, ninety-nine percent of the people who build something to make themselves into a Cape fail. About seventy-five percent wind up in the hospital. You want to know what happens to fifty-five percent?”

Ethan did not.

Noble examined the device he was wearing more closely. “You got some smarts, I can tell. If you can build something like this, you can build something that will make you rich. Why don’t you focus on something like that instead?”

He gave a salute and floated off into the air, leaving Ethan alone. As he vanished from sight, Ethan smiled.

“Maybe I will.”

The encounter with Dr. Noble left Ethan a bit perplexed, but undaunted. Noble wasn’t exactly what he’d expected. On television, whenever he made a public appearance, Dr. Noble came across as the all-American corn-fed paragon that everybody wanted him to be. In person, his voice was gruff and he felt a bit dismissive. Why not, though? If movie stars and professional athletes could have a clean public image and a dirty smear underneath, why wouldn’t the same apply to superheroes?

Back in his shop, Ethan’s attention returned to his work. The energy reservoir was reusable, of course, but the rest of his next device was completely new construction. Under his black bodysuit he wore a thin copper alloy mesh – uncomfortable against his skin, but necessary for what he was planning. A black ski mask would help protect him from the cameras, or at least slow down any investigators enough that it wouldn’t matter who he was by the time they found him.

At 11 o’clock, he slipped out of a hiding place in the Ditko Medical Pavilion, where he’d been hiding in various supply closets and unoccupied rooms for several hours now. A fiber optic camera attached to a PDA allowed him to peek around corners and under doors, helping him avoid detection. Word was there was a failed cancer treatment that had been attempted here… failed in that it did not cure any cancerous cells, but a success in that it altered the bioelectric field of a medical researcher, giving him incredible healing abilities. The device may not still be there, but even if it wasn’t, Ethan was hopeful that he would at least find
some
useful files he could adapt for his own experiments.

In the end, he didn’t find the cancer treatment or any device or files related to it. He found something even better. In a glassed-off observation room was a large, blue-skinned man glowing with a cold fire. He had no idea what was wrong with the man, but if there was even the slightest chance Ethan could put it to use, he had to investigate.

The readouts on the computer bank were a bit out of his wheelhouse, but he’d studied enough biochemistry (out of necessity) to get together a basic understanding of what he was looking at. This guy – he recognized him now as Catalyst, one of the heroes of nearby Centerville – was going through a series of bodily transformations due to an unstable metabolism. Ethan’s eyes grew wide – there had to be
some
way he could put that to use. If only he—

There was an electric blue sizzle and Ethan felt a shock across his entire body. The copper mesh suddenly began to sear, and he knew he’d look like he’d fallen asleep on a grill when he took it off. After what seemed like hours, the surge of electrical power stopped and Ethan fell down to his knees. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up.

“Well what have we here? Paparazzi looking for a story? Industrial thief? Or just a good old fashioned supervillain?”

The man looked at him through a white mask that flowed down into his red-and-white costume. On his chest was a large red cross – medical, not religious – and Ethan couldn’t suppress a smile. He’d been found by STAT, the self-styled “medical marvel.” On Ethan’s chest, the energy reservoir hummed again and the display on the front shifted colors to a soft, lightning blue.

STAT shook him again. “Come on, buddy, you’ve got nothing to say for yourself?”

“Just goodbye,” Ethan said. He kicked out and hit STAT in the kneecap. The sudden pain made the Cape drop him and Ethan rolled away. It was a gamble, but STAT didn’t see a lot of combat, mostly spending his time in the field healing up other heroes who got shot, stabbed, Karate’d, whatever. He could use his bioelectric shocks offensively too, obviously, but his attacks weren’t nearly as strong as his defensive powers. Back on his feet, and with STAT bending over to clutch his knee, Ethan punched him in the face, sending him onto his back and holding his chin. He felt bad about brutalizing the good doctor, but just a little. STAT had interrupted
him
, after all. He wasn’t there to steal anything… at least nothing they would need.

He rushed down the hall, easily evading the few nurses and orderlies roaming the halls at this hour. There was a security guard at the entrance who waved a Billy club in his direction, but Ethan whipped out a telescoping staff he’d kept strapped to his thigh. With the flick of a wrist, he swatted the club out of the guard’s hand. With a second swing, he’d connected to the guard’s forehead and put him down. He felt worse about him than STAT, to be frank, but he wasn’t going to let either of them put him in jail for trespassing in the hospital after hours.

He pulled out a Hawaiian shirt from his backpack and put it on as he ran, peeling off his black ski mask and gloves and throwing them in a dumpster. It may not be the greatest camouflage in the world, but at least anyone who saw him leave the hospital wouldn’t automatically connect him to the man in black. The Hawaiian shirt also neatly covered his energy reservoir, although if you looked closely at his chest, you could still see a small, blue glow.

The next pieces of his device snapped onto the energy reservoir easily. And why not, hadn’t he designed them that way? The hard part was disguising all of the pieces under his clothing – a few plastic cases the size of a pack of cigarettes weren’t that hard to disguise, but other pieces were a little bigger. No big deal when he was on his own, hiding in the Clinic or sneaking up to the roof of Simon Tower after hours. This was different. It was taking a risk, going out in public for this next attempt, but there would be no better time to try to test it on Lifespeed than at this charity race. The super-speedster from Siegel City was racing Centerville’s resident racing guru, Speedburn. Actually, studying her powers might work too, but Ethan had spent more time studying Lifespeed and felt he had a better understanding of just how his powers worked. Speedburn would be a wild card, and if her running speed didn’t come from the same place as Lifespeed’s, he could be putting himself at terrible risk if the two were incompatible.

The race track was laid out in a circle between Siegel City and Centerville. Either of the heroes could traverse the distance between cities almost faster than it takes to tell, so they were going to do a 500-lap race, tracked and verified by the Swiss timer company that was sponsoring the event. The start and finish lines were both in Lee Park, and Ethan had to get there two days ahead of time to ensure a spot close to the track. V3OL of the Spectacle Six was there to serve as the starting pistol for the race, literally, as he had a cap gun attachment in his huge arsenal of weaponry. The advantages of being a combat android, Ethan supposed. He knew the robot could also detect weapons, and as he came out to the starting line he was clearly looking over the crowd. Ethan wasn’t wearing anything that could be used offensively, though, and he’d have to hope V3OL’s sensors wouldn’t register the rest of the advanced tech on his body.

The two speedsters stood at the starting line, leaning over and waiting for the signal to begin. As they did so, Ethan slipped a hand into his pocket and touched a switch that activated his device. V3OL fired his starter pistol and the two racers vanished in the blink of an eye. A few seconds later there was a tremendous wooshing sound, signaling that the first lap had been completed already, followed by another woosh seconds later still. According to the timer, the split from which was displayed on a huge plasma screen set up in the park, Speedburn was ahead of Lifespeed by 0.0000007 microseconds. To someone who moved as fast as they did, Ethan supposed, that was a huge margin.

By lap 50, the energy reservoir was already beginning to tick away underneath Ethan’s shirt. He dared a peek down and saw a red light glowing close to his chest. That was no good – for the sort of energy he was trying to pick up from Lifespeed, it should be glowing
orange
. He would need to get closer. Shaking his head, preparing himself for something that would severely suck if it went wrong, Ethan shoved his way through the crowd and flipped over the safety rail onto the track.

“Hey, somebody get that guy out of there!”

Ethan timed it so that he made it into the track between the gusts of wind and streaks of color that signaled the passing speedsters. He made it into the air tunnel that had developed in the gutter in the middle of the racers. There were a few gasps of surprise, a few people yelling at him, but nobody moved to pull him out and the streaks that marked the paths of the speedsters continued their race. Against his chest, the energy reservoir began to glow and spark yellow. He didn’t feel anything, of course, he’d shielded himself too well for that, but he
could
almost sense the batteries charging, filling up, and—

He broke free from his trance when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt. There was a whirlwind around him, and the world didn’t stop spinning when the wind ended. He almost couldn’t tell that Speedburn was holding him up, and although she was wearing a full face-mask, there was something about the shape of the jaw and brow beneath that suggested extreme agitation.

“Look, buddy, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but this is a
race
. Even if we’re really just playing for bragging rights, I get kind of irritated when somebody stumbles onto my track.”

“I – I fell down,” he said, sounding dazed. “What happened? Where am I?” He hoped that the vertigo from Speedburn’s “rescue” would make him sound convincingly perplexed about how he got there.