Great King Zys was a suspiciously reasonable captor, within certain bounds. What he wanted was protection from crystalline entities, and was willing to settle for the same sort that Isaac had given the embassy walls, something that had taken a few meetings back and forth to decide on properly. The monsters, regardless of their size, had properties that made them exceedingly difficult to damage or protect against with the crystal-based technology and knowledge that prevailed in the hollow earth. One reason to trade for surface goods, though there were obvious limitations on such exchanges so far.
Isaac still didn’t trust him.
Obviously, part of it was that he was being coerced, but he also just didn’t trust that someone that powerful had anything simple or reasonable in mind. There were hidden hooks, he just didn’t see them. Or they were simply yet to come; this wasn’t Star City, where he had certain rights and protections as both a citizen and a meta.
When he returned to the room, he was treated to an odd sight. Sarah was leaning back on a couch, her arms attenuated to smoke that wisped across the distance of a few feet before reforming into hands, writing away in her notebook. Savage, on the other hand, was stretched out on a different couch, one cyber-hand hold a battered old romance novel — a bodice-ripper titled Love on Luna. Isaac took about two seconds to decide he didn’t really want to know what the dinosaur got out of tawdry romance novels.
“Well, I’ve finally settled on my marching orders,” he said, heading in Sarah’s direction.
“I wish we had something to do,” Sarah said, snapping closed her notebook as Isaac approached to see what she was writing. “Hey, no peeking!” Her smoke fuzzed as she lost concentration, her hands reappearing on the ends of her arms where they belonged. She flexed them and pouted at him for interrupting her.
“Uh-huh,” Isaac said, indulging her and bending down to press a kiss against the crown of her head. Clearly it was something more personal than notes for the columns she planned to sell to the papers. Maybe something like doodled names with hearts — though it could just be poetry. He didn’t blame her for not wanting to show off something so personal. “Well, I’m sure you two heard, but you’re free to roam around now and scope things out.” He tapped the comm pin at his collar meaningfully. “I don’t know what you got from my talk with Zys, but I’m pretty sure we’re still going to have to break out of here.”
“As soon as Lia is up and about,” Savage agreed. “I worry that they will keep her in stasis as a hostage.”
“Then that’s something you two can work on, as well,” Isaac said. “I guess it depends on if ikiski healers take oaths like the doctors back in Star City. The Great Kings leave quite an impression, but I think he’s slippery enough to allow people their morals.”
“You’re going to have to unpack that one,” Sarah said, and it took Isaac a moment to realize that, since she was mostly raised by and in a gang, she might not be familiar with the kind of politics that emerged in a super-hospital.
“When people have a lot of morals, they’re difficult to control,” Isaac said, sitting down next to her as Savage tilted his head at the two of them from the couch. At least the ikiski-style furniture was better matched to the raptor’s anatomy than any human chair would have been. Sarah blurred into smoke and then remanifested lying crosswise on the couch, with her legs across his lap, and he smiled at her before continuing his thought.
“So, when I was back at the hospital, we had a meta healer transfer in, real high demand, but he didn’t care about the money involved. If we got an organ for transplant, he’d put it in a kid before a millionaire donor, which is great ethics but the hospital wouldn’t stay in business if he did that every time.” Isaac shook his head. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t like there was infinite money to pay very in-demand doctors. “So the director got involved, didn’t reprimand the guy or anything. Gave him extra resources, actually, formed a totally separate unit. But it wasn't general admission, so the director got control over the caseload anyway.” Isaac shrugged. “The point is, instead of fighting the guy and probably losing him to another hospital, the director worked around him and got what he wanted anyway.”
“Huh,” Sarah said, lifting her kiseru to her lips and puffing at it thoughtfully. “I see what you’re saying, but Zys strikes me as a lot more like Blacktime. An absolute ruler. I mean, he’s got the presence for it. And that type just tends to issue orders, ‘cause people will obey.”
“I could see that,” Isaac admitted. “Hard to say what he’d be like, because Zys was tricky with me, but maybe just because he knows I’m not a direct subordinate. Maybe he does just issue orders to the other ikiski, but if he knows he’s dealing with us…” Isaac shook his head. Trying to second-guess what someone like that was going to do was an exercise in futility. “The point is, I don’t think he’ll do something obvious. Problem is, we don’t know how badly off Lia is, or what it takes to fix her.”
“Then it’s up to Savage and I to check.” Sarah said, her smile turning impish as she bounced her legs where they lay across his lap. “No matter what they’re up to, we should keep them on their toes by showing up and poking around where Lia is.”
“And scope out an exit path at the same time,” Isaac agreed. “I’d be a little worried that they’d find some way to block us in. At the same time, I was as much as told that I – or we – should push back. So we’re probably encouraged to do that.”
“Weird way to run a civilization,” Sarah said, stretching before she hopped to her feet and leaned down to give him a hug. Then she turned to Savage. “Okay, let’s go for a walk.”
Savage huffed a sigh that his vocoder didn’t bother to articulate and put his book away before he rose to his feet, padding over to Sarah. She reached out to take an offered cyber-arm and the two of them vanished into a swirl of smoke, which sped out below the door. That left Isaac alone, but of course he had practice to do before he headed off to do the alterations.
What Zys wanted was possible, but it wasn’t as simple as making a city tougher. He had some strict limits on what he could manage, and it wasn’t like he’d just added physical inertia to the embassy walls. It was wall inertia, making it more difficult to change from being a wall. Which was pretty weird and esoteric, but he was pretty sure that if he tried the same thing with a city it’d turn out different.
First of all, a city was bigger. A lot bigger, and his influence had always been fairly local. There was also the fact that even if he could somehow make a city more citylike, that didn’t stop damage. He didn’t know how many people could die or how many buildings could be destroyed before something stopped being a city, but it was greater than none. Worse, a city was a living, breathing organism, and making it more resistant to change in other ways – again, assuming he could affect the entire thing, which he doubted – could choke it to death in short order.
Basically, as he’d managed to explain to Zys, he needed a wall. Or some other defensive structure, and the energy projections from crystaltech didn’t count. When he had tried to enhance temporary constructions like that, whatever changes he made would vanish when they did, and it’d take more than a little bit of cleverness to change that.
Something he’d run into already, despite telling only a few people about his talent, was the instant reflex of others to just think of his power as an enhancer. That he just made things better, which was not even slightly true. He could only alter resistance to change, which was tricky and sometimes sideways, so it wasn’t something he could just shove power into and get to work.
At least he had time to experiment, though the uncertain feedback made it a lot harder. To be fair, it wasn’t like he knew exactly what his power meant with physical objects at first, either. He’d had to build up an instinct and reference for it over time, and it was probably impossible to compress years of learning into a few days when it came to more intangible versions.
He eyed Sarah’s notebook, then decided against it. He knew that he’d be pissed if someone used his stuff without asking, even if it was for a good cause. Instead, he took advantage of the translator to poke around the suite and find what the translator deemed a slate, and turned out to be a crystaltech slab that came with a stylus and held writing. A little bit like a computer, but not really. He started scribbling thoughts before realizing that the slate was actually a fantastic training implement.
Isaac pushed his power into increasing the slate’s resistance to changing colors, which was how the stylus movements were marked. He watched as the device abruptly stopped working, or at least stopped displaying the scribbles of his stylus, then reversed his power to make it easier. The next set of words came out grainy and distorted, and the stylus heated up so rapidly that he chucked it across the room for fear it’d explode. When it failed to detonate, he carefully approached it and reached down to touch it with a finger, reversing what he’d done.
“Everything is a system,” he mused, the unexpected outcome making him think about the way that he seemed to have bent cause and effect on their way south by giving actions extra inertia. Such things didn’t come for free, and in a dynamic like a city or even interactions between people, changing the balance of how easy it was to alter one bit of it messed up everything else. No particularly applicable bits of wisdom sprang to mind, unfortunately. Even comics rarely touched on that level of meddling.
He felt unprepared to answer the question that both Sarah and Great King Zys has asked, which would have been difficult even if he had been armed with greater wisdom. He had to figure out what he intended to do with his power, since at this point he was pretty sure not using it was off the table. He had drawn too much attention, and he had to admit Zys had a point that his fear of being controlled was, in fact, controlling him in and of itself.
He certainly didn’t want to be in charge as such. If he’d held any such delusions, seeing Greg’s brief rise to power and subsequent fall had firmly disabused him of the notion. He didn’t have whatever kind of insanity that created supervillains, nor the battle mania or duty that made superheroes. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be working for someone else, either; he’d had quite enough of that at the hospital. That left the middle ground of independent agent, which required a lot of work and luck, but was worth at least trying for. The way things were going, he was going to be forced into one of the first two if he didn’t.
While he’d probably be happy pursuing his cosplay as a career, that wasn’t the kind of strength that King Zys meant and, regrettably, knowing how to make a perfect copy of The Undermole’s costume wasn’t going to convince many people to leave him alone. Having a deft touch with metaphysical inertia probably would. But only if he could wield it the way he wanted, rather than some half-baked messing about.
The major issue would continue to be that he needed contact to change things. As much as he had tried after discovering the non-physical aspects of his power, he still couldn’t modify things at a distance. He had to be involved, he had to be able to touch it, in some vague and metaphysical way. Which seemed only fair; if he could alter the intangible, he had to at least play by the rules of that intangible.
“I don’t want to be a mercenary,” he decided aloud, putting the slate aside and trailing his fingers along a display, accidentally flicking it from some sort of abstract art piece to a view of the outside of the amethyst mountain. Massive, multi-story Deep Kingdom trees cut the purple surroundings with green, while flowers the size of normal, surface trees bloomed in orange and red. “But I can be something in the nature of a janitor. My power’s probably more appropriate to maintenance anyway.”
For most people, the role of janitor might not appeal to them. But he’d seen the power inherent in just keeping things running, and even if nobody really praised that kind of work, he could still take pride in a job well done. Isaac had never been comfortable in the limelight anyway, and had never dreamed of fame or fortune. While he didn’t know how far he could take his power, he could try and maintain things so events like the BlackBeam incident didn’t happen.
Change wasn’t bad, but neither was it intrinsically good. Sometimes things moved too rapidly, people diving into events without considering them, and sometimes structures ossified, becoming too unwieldy to keep up with the times. Of course, it took a real discerning eye to know which was which, but wisdom was something that could come in time. Besides, he wasn’t going to be able to do any of this on his own. He was no sovereign, and didn’t want to be anyway.
At the same time, he didn’t want to presume Sarah was all in. They’d take it one step at a time, so far as circumstances let them. Superhero stuff was already getting a bit wearing and he’d only stepped into that world a few weeks ago. The best he could do was to take what time he was given to learn what he could. That was one lesson from foster care he had gotten, and taken to heart, and he figured that was one of the ones the people who got into drugs and gangs didn’t. It was too easy to just see the problems of the moment as all that existed.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He was still working through exercises when Sarah and Savage returned, being escorted in by a rather bemused ikiski, one of the human-sized ones. It occurred to Isaac only after the door opened that he’d never actually checked that they were locked in. He’d simply assumed it.
“Probably another week for Lia, according to the doc,” Sarah volunteered as she strolled across the amethyst floor. “He’s probably — oof, hey!” Astoria interrupted her by coming out of the stable door and headbutting Sarah in what was probably a pout. Isaac had never been a cat or dog owner himself, but he could see the similarities.
“So we’ve got maybe a week to figure out what we can,” Isaac reasoned. “I did notice your magic trick with the floating hands.”
“Yeah, it’s new,” Sarah said happily, waggling smokey fingers at him while she scratched Astoria’s muzzle with her other, un-smoked hand.
“And you’re probably better at this super stuff than either of us,” Isaac said, turning to Savage. “Given how long you’ve been with Justice for Hire. I’d be happy to get any tips on nailing down extra aspects to powers.”
“My understanding is that non-physical powers are more about understanding than control or effort as such,” Savage said, picking his way over to one of the couches, giving Astoria an exasperated side-eye as he passed. “One reason few manage it. Balancing action and thought requires a temperament that most people don’t have, let alone those few who are bestowed a power that seems to skew one way or the other.”
Isaac frowned, but hadn’t had all that much hope for actionable advice to begin with. Savage’s augments were an entirely different class of special ability, and both Stratum and Bubs had powers that seemed to be more intrinsic to their anatomy. On the other hand, just knowing that he was on the right track by worrying his head over how to use his power meant he could keep on with exercises and deep thoughts.
“Well, my new ideas need control,” Sarah said. “Trying to keep different bits smoke or un-smoke is brain-twisting.”
“Seems to be a lot of that going around,” Isaac agreed. “But we can do it together.” Sarah threw him a startled look, then laughed.
“Oh, is that what you’re after?” She winked at him, and it took him a fraction of a moment to catch up.
“How could I not be?” He flirted back as he obviously took her in, and she grinned. Savage looked between the two of them, shook his head, and took out his book.
“Humans,” he muttered.
***
The whine of dimensional machinery tore the air of Star City for the third time that week.
“That is the most irritating sound,” Glorybeam noted, and if she was irked enough to mention it, Administrator Ike knew it was bad.
“This definitely can’t go on,” he agreed, not looking up from the orders he was sending out. His fingers played across the controls of his chair, the displays of the office flickering as he sorted through files. “His feud with Blacktime is going to tear Star City apart.” As always, there were a half-dozen crises occurring at once. Fortunately, one of them was yet another biotitan uprising, and sending Captain Bulk, Makebelieve, and some transporter heroes off to the Isle of Leaves meant he could immediately parley that favor into getting transport down to the Earth’s core.
It wasn’t merely about Hartson and the lunarian anymore; powerful people all throughout the Five City Alliance were unhappy about the loss of small but very valuable items shipped from the Deep Kingdoms. Which seemed a minor issue in some ways, but money still made more things go than superpowers, and the people who funded Star Central did so with the understanding that Ike would employ supers to ensure that things functioned as normal with as little damage, death, or disruption as possible. Sometimes they tried to lean on him for more, but that was easy to resist. Leaning on him for not doing his job properly was harder to defend against.
Of course, the same people were not a fan of open superpowered clashes in the middle of Star City, even if the area around Mechanical’s tower was no longer occupied. The exclusion zone wasn’t really sufficient, but collateral damage had been kept fairly minimal. It was a question how long that would be the case, however.
“I don’t suppose you’ve asked him to stop?” Ike hadn’t exactly forbidden Glorybeam from contacting Blacktime, but considering the oddness of their relationship, he wasn’t sure that would have any meaning at the moment. Not until Glorybeam had her powers back.
“He’s been coy about his plans, but from what I understand, with Mechaniacal blatantly violating his territory claims, other supervillains and even subordinates are no longer respecting his rule,” Glorybeam stated. Ike sighed; he unfortunately completely understood that territorial thinking. Even heroes weren’t immune to it, and got prickly when people intruded on “their” areas, even if it was just to help. For supervillains who had a more cutthroat competition, such confrontations could be lethal.
In a way, if he could have traded Blacktime for Mechaniacal it wouldn’t have been so bad. So far as Ike knew the tinker wasn’t involved in too much conventional crime, since things like smuggling and drug distribution were beneath the old supervillain. The massive tower and its incessant clicking, whirring, and the occasional mindbending sound of tortured reality were nearly as bad, but at least it was a localized nuisance. Of course, all the sounds of industry meant that Mechaniacal was up to something, and Ike wanted to be ready to counter whatever it was before construction was finished.
“Well, Endymion is meant to be here as soon as our squad finishes up,” Ike said. “Mostly to head down to the Deep Kingdoms, but I’ll see if I can persuade him to apply pressure while he’s here, or maybe afterward.”
Glorybeam didn’t respond, but the unimpressed look she gave him from her corner of the office spoke volumes for what she thought of that possibility. Endymion’s tune would change real quick if Mechaniacal started his world-spanning plans once again, but so far as he was just squatting in Star City, it really wasn’t a problem for the Isle of Leaves. Or worth the potential risk.
Ike’s words proved somewhat prophetic – something that was not uncommon, even with his power broken and suppressed as it was – as the local alerts began to sound only a few minutes later. A power signature rising from the back lot tripped all kinds of sensors, but Ike recognized the characteristic square wave of moniton particles, which were used only by biotitan weapons and Endymion’s massive biomech. A few moments later, a bright line sliced its way through the air, top to bottom, and widened into a glowing rectangle, through which stepped a near hundred-foot tall armored warrior — the ultimate result of mad tinkers, biotitan energies, and ancient, long-lost technology.
It was mostly a glittering blue, with accents of yellow here and there and exposed purple bits of biotitan flesh, with an enormous sword slotted to its back with tremendous mechanical linkages. The machine was practically as tall as Star Central itself, the eyes of the mecha on a level with Ike’s office. The outer pickups could only catch a fraction of the mecha at a time, just a solid wall of armor, but after a moment an alert chimed as Endymion signaled them.
“Administrator!” Endymion exclaimed as Ike keyed the controls and connected him to the mecha’s signal. The man sat in the cockpit of the enormous machine, the command console linked to him in ways that brought to mind the way Ike was connected to his own life-support chair. The black-haired man looked more like a teenager than a full-grown hero, but Ike had always found it difficult to tell with the natives of the Isle of Leaves.
“Endymion,” Ike responded. “Thank you for coming.”
“Well, your people bought me some breathing room,” Endymion replied easily, a second view showing Bulk, Makebelieve, and the others lounging in the observation deck of the mecha, drinking sake it seemed. He could hardly fault them, given that they had been dealing with biological horror-spawns for days, and it wasn’t like they often had a chance to ride Endymion’s mecha. “It would bring dishonor to refuse such a simple request from such a valuable ally.”
“I appreciate it,” Ike said, beginning the checks necessary to move into his travel chair. Technically he didn’t need to go to the Deep Kingdoms himself, given the brand new communicator was working as intended, but he wanted to bring a resolution to the Hartson matter himself. “Mocker and I will be out soon. You can tell my people they can leave if they want, take the next few days off barring emergencies.”
“Of course,” Endymion said, giving Ike a nod. “I will be waiting for you.” The connection went, and Ike exchanged a few words with Glorybeam before steering his life-support chair down to the basement where his travel extension was. He knew from prior experience that the saucer did fit into the observation deck, if barely.
The containment room held in his power as the suppression effects were handed over from the building’s intrinsic wards to the sorcerous spellscript and ancient artifacts built into his travel chair. Then the room’s outer wall opened to the outside, and he piloted the saucer up toward the cargo bay built into the armored chest of the tremendous mecha even as Captain Bulk and his squad trooped out. It really was a unique creation, and its sheer size meant that Endymion actually could parley with the Deep Kingdoms better than anyone from the Five City Alliance. Unfortunately, the Isle of Leaves had no natural route to the Deep Kingdoms, so Endymion’s visits had been rare and by-the-way.
Endymion had redecorated since the last time Ike had been inside, and he shook his head as he spotted a bonsai sakura tree, which was clearly flaunting how well-defended the mecha was. Of course, most people didn’t have access to inertial dampeners, artificial gravity, and spatial stabilization. Perhaps Mechaniacal or Tinkertown did, but they weren’t sharing, and certainly didn’t base their technology on ancient, incomprehensible artifacts.
“Are we headed to Borealis?” Endymion’s face popped up on a viewscreen. He didn’t allow people into the cockpit, and with good reason.
“Yes, we have personnel there who should be decrystallized by now.” The process was something that required a Great King’s touch, though thankfully not his continuous presence. A week of a Great King’s attention would cost more than anyone could afford. “Then we will have to consult with Great King Iy about tracking down our missing supers.”
“Which I will be doing,” Mocker said, appearing from a puddle of shadow. “Mister Hartson may be elusive still, but Mister Savage is not so protected.” He lifted his hand, a dark orb appearing above his palm featuring a narrow spike of metal inside that pointed straight down. “Of course, at this distance and through the interference of the crystalline energies, tracking is very coarse.”
“So long as it doesn’t take too long,” Endymion said, eyeing Mocker’s tracking orb dubiously. “I cannot neglect my duties on the Island.”
“Then let us be off,” Ike said, hands flicking the controls of his chair to ensure the saucer was stabilized relative to the mecha. A mistake he’d made once aboard another craft, to the embarrassment of all concerned. Endymion grinned jauntily and returned his attention to the outside, the mecha rumbling and hissing around them as it sprang to life. A high-pitched whine signaled the gate emitters spooling up, a white beam sweeping through the air in front of them, top to bottom. It widened into a gate and they stepped through.
***
Professor Mechaniacal glanced over the readings from his tower’s extensive sensors, genuinely impressed with the precision of the gate technology the oversized war-robot employed. The exact principles were nothing he was familiar with, and the version of the mecha he had encountered in the past had lacked that particular capability. Someday, perhaps, he would have the chance to study the construct, but for the moment he was forced to simply wonder.
The Director had not yet been able to find all of Mechaniacal’s listening devices, so he knew exactly where they were going, and why. Which was unfortunate, because Mechaniacal would have preferred a bit longer to build his forces. But then, there was no telling what was happening down in the Deep Kingdom. His old, leftover stash of surveillance drones was not up to the task of tracking the Hartson boy’s group, not with the girl’s stealth abilities. Ones that, if he understood things properly, she hadn’t had access to when they went down there. As he had to remind himself, people weren’t simply pieces; they played the game as well. If Mechaniacal let it go too long, something might happen to the boy.
And other people getting there first counted as something happening.
He probably would have been ready if it weren’t for the constant probes by Blacktime’s people. They hadn’t tried infiltration since the first time, but the escalating series of attacks was proving an annoyance. There had even been an appearance by the supervillain Graywand, likely under the logic that magic would have an easier time penetrating Mechaniacal’s defenses than technology.
Which was true, but Mechaniacal had experience with magic-users. No matter how subtle the wizard, a bullet to the face really cramped their style. Over the years Mechaniacal had gotten fairly adept at sending bullets where he wanted them, so Graywand had not been too difficult to drive off. Too tricky to kill, but reality repeaters broadcasting the local magical dead zone would tie the supervillain up for long enough that he wouldn’t want to bother again.
“I suppose I should get going as well,” he said aloud, flipping a few switches and moving a lever to have the pneumatic tube deliver him a recording cylinder. While it was possible for Mechaniacal to use magnetic tape or softchip based audio, he preferred his own design. Microminiaturized platens with holes for mechanical arms, tuned ever so carefully, just had more romance than a simple mechanical speaker.
“You may well notice within the hour that I have departed Star City. It is true. I am headed to the deep kingdoms to locate something – or rather, someone – critical to restoring your girlfriend. You, of course, are never going to be able to touch the super in question,” Mechaniacal said, making his voice as sonorous as possible. “Soon, the two of you will be balanced again — but will you? Perhaps I will ensure that when her powers are restored, the outcome will not be in your favor. And there is nothing you can do about it.”
In a way it was an empty threat, because Mechaniacal had no interest in disturbing the equivalent nature of the two sovereigns. But it would be enough to force Blacktime to spend resources on following after, and thus not bother the city while both Mechaniacal and Ike were away. Without the Director’s touch, it was possible that Blacktime could do real damage.
He packed the recording into a small drone, and sent it off toward Blacktime’s lair. It would take an hour or so to arrive, which would give Mechaniacal plenty of time to exercise his own brand of control. When it came to the Deep Kingdoms, it was best to go big. Literally.
Mechaniacal strolled across his office and pulled a large red lever that he’d installed just for the occasion. Sirens blared around the tower, with his recorded voice instructing anyone still in the area to stand clear as the skein engines powered up, reality stabilizers crackling through the walls as now-silent dimensional rippers wound up to full power. Sensors flickered and flashed around one of the dimensional anchors he’d used to get a resonant frequency from Bubs to find his fellow shadow-reality refugee, forming a vector in directions that required obscure and non-terrestrial languages to articulate.
With a deep groan the entire hundred-plus foot tower ripped itself out of normal reality, shunted along the skein of dimensions through thousands of miles of rock and magma and gemstone to the center of the earth, where the Hartson boy and his companions were. His viewscreens showed nothing but the hypnotic whirl of between-space for a moment, then greenery and life slammed into existence around him as his tower grounded itself in the wilderness outside a massive amethyst mountain.
With the flick of another lever, armor panels clicked open and drones poured into the air — these ones specifically designed for their task of dealing with threats in the Deep Kingdoms. Thousands, then tens of thousands, from spatial armories that held the results of his manufactories. They poured into the air, darkening the inside-out sky with their numbers, as he adjusted the controls to broadcast his voice outside.
“Great King Zys!” Mechaniacal said, amplified loud enough to blow leaves from the nearby trees. He recognized the gemstone palace, and Great Kings did not change very easily. “I am Professor Mechaniacal, and I have come for the surfacers!”
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