//||  //^^\\  ||   ||   .|.   COHERENT COMICS UNINCORPORATED PRESENTS
   // ||  \\      ||   ||  --X---------------------------------------------
  //======================= '|`         ACADEMY OF SUPER-HEROES #29
 //   ||      \\  ||   ||                      "Sensation"
//    ||  \\__//  ||   ||          Copyright 2000 by Dave Van Domelen
___________________________________________________________________________

     [cover shows Essay in shadow as Peregryn works his spells on 
      her.  She seems to be lying on the floor, her legs placed 
      awkwardly to point towards the top of the page and her head
      at the base of the page.  Peregryn's face is in shadow.  
      A small pyramid at the bottom has a thin line of red across
      the bottom.  "PYRAMID SCHEME: STEP ONE" (Moderate mature 
      content within.)]


                       ACADEMY OF SUPER-HEROES ROLL CALL

CODENAME       REAL NAME                POWERS                   STATUS
--------       ---------                ------                   ------
Solar Max      Jonathan Zachary         Spacetime Control        ACTIVE
                 "JakZak" Taylor
Meteor         Sarah Grant-Taylor       Superspeed               ACTIVE
Green Knight   Salvatore Napier         Strength, Regeneration   ACTIVE
Contact        Aaron Zander             Psi, Mind-over-Body      ACTIVE
Scorch         Scott Handleman          Pyrokinetic              ACTIVE
Essay          Sara Ana Rodriguez       Gadgeteer                MEDICAL LEAVE
Peregryn       Howard Henderson Jr.     Elemental Mage           ACTIVE
Lightfoot      Tom Dodson               Velocity Control         PROBATION
Breaker        Christina Li             Telekinesis              PROBATION
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE:

     The Academy of Super-Heroes was still recovering from the assault of
General Kasca's Revanche, with Essay crippled by her crucifixion, when
Channel was assassinated.  All signs pointed towards the Conclave of
Super-Villains being responsible for Channel's death, although in reality
they were framed by the Lord of Living Light, Doublecross.  These events left
ASH, including their leader Solar Max, somewhat emotionally raw.
     Meanwhile, after lying relatively low for some months, the Conclave of
Super-Villains burst back onto the scene with two major events.  The first
was breaking Claudette Viau (Caryatid) out of the Cavity, killing or injuring
a large number of guards and inmates in the ensuing chaos.  The second was
seizing control of the rogue nation of Khadam in the wake of Doublecross's
own bid for power there.
     Neither of these events sits well with the Academy of Super-Heroes,
especially Solar Max.  As part of a deal he made with CSV member Labyrinthe
to stop the Anchor Plague, Solar Max gave Labyrinthe access to information
about the Cavity...so now he feels partly responsible for the deaths caused
in the breakout of Labyrinthe's sister.  And now he sees the CSV in control
of a major world power?  He doesn't know all the details, but Solar Max has a
strong suspicion that had he never made a deal with Labyrinthe, the CSV would
not now be in power in Khadam.  And, as far as he knows, Channel might still
be alive.
     So, when given the power of life and death over Khadam in the form of a
Collapsiron asteroid he was tasked to deflect, Solar Max gave into temptation
(and the subtle urging of his government contact) and aimed the rock at
Khadam.  Triton arrived as part of his plan to claim the Collapsiron, and the
two briefly fought before Solar Max got the upper hand and pinned the
supervillain to the asteroid.
     If you haven't done so already, go see what happened next in CSV #14!

               *              *              *              *

[July 6, 2024 - Chicago, Illinois Sector]

     A figure in red and gold armor landed silently on the roof of the ASH
building in downtown Chicago.  It was a cloudy night, no stars were visible.
Nor did Solar Max think he deserved to see the stars.  Not ever again, not
after what he had just done.
     Midnight had slipped by minutes ago, if not silently, then no more
loudly than it ever did in Chicago.  
     He'd done IT hours ago.  It had taken only an hour to return to Earth
safely, but then there were debriefings and sitreps and all the earnest
activity that surrounded the accomplishment of something terrible but not
completely unexpected.
     Khadam had survived, the Conclave of Super-Villains had been able to
divert the rock into the desert.  It hadn't been the Mediterranean splashdown
that JakZak had been sent to avert, but neither had it been the end to a
great many problems.  Instead, it was the beginning of many more.
     He opened the roof access door, which had unlocked in the presence of a
transponder in his armor.  Pulling off the sweat-reeking helmet, he slumped
down the stairs quite loudly, but without a word.  He simply didn't have the
energy to soften his footsteps.
     Radner had also survived.  A spy satellite diverted to watch the
asteroid had recorded his escape.
     JakZak had kicked over a beehive without, apparently, harming any of
the bees.  They were just mad now.
     He entered the outer room of the quarters he and his wife shared at the
Chicago base and started to peel off the heavy combat armor.  Carbon scored
it in places, not from re-entry but from the maneuvering jets built into the
suit.  Someone would clean it.
     But who could clean his soul?
     He'd been prepared to...FOUGHT to be able to...commit mass murder.  The
fact that he was encouraged by his superiors didn't make it right.  The fact
that maybe three quarters of the population of Khadam was guilty of capital
offenses on Earth or on other worlds didn't make it right.  Even the
likelihood that Khadam's destruction would save millions of lives in the long
run didn't make it right.
     He had merely tried to smother one evil under a larger one.
     The bedroom door opened slowly, hesitantly.  He couldn't bring himself
to look Sarah in the eyes, but he heard her step slowly over to where he
sat.
     She knew.
     Or at least knew enough to figure out the rest.  Moving slowly was one
of the hardest things in the world for her to do...normally she'd be at his
side in the blink of an eye when he got home, with a smile and a kiss.
     Slowly, silently, she walked behind his chair and took his shoulders in
a careful embrace.
     Too tired to keep up the walls any longer, JakZak broke into tears....

               *              *              *              *

[July 7, 2024 - The ruins of New Ilium, Turkey]

     Every day the walls crumbled a little more, Hector reflected.  The blast
of the D-Gates opening that fateful day twenty six years and two weeks ago
had torn a hole over there, in the north wall of the city.  An attack by
elements of Turkey's army a year later had leveled most of the east wall and
put holes in the south before they realized there was no one to kill, nothing
to steal, just a lone man in a tower that their guns could not penetrate.
     The tower still stood.  Built with powerful stone-shaping magic and
advanced technology, it would not fall before the end of the world, unlike
the more mundane outer walls.
     Too bad the end of the world was rapidly approaching.
     Hector picked up the tattered letter again, as if by strangling the
unliving paper he could convince it to say something else.  But the words
would not change.  Mad Pino's son was coming close to completing his father's
plans.
     The world had survived the gods.  It had survived the new Conclave of
Super-Villains, an organization even more corrupt than the old Conclave which
Hector had left in his youth.  It had even survived the meteor that had lit
the southwestern sky the night before.  But would it survive the insane
ambitions of the Archangeli line?
     Perhaps better to meet a clean end now, rather than whatever gruesome
fate Lorenzo had in store for his fellow Anchors.  Bombs, plagues, killers...
it was clear even without the letters from his old friend in Rome that the
self-styled Rebus was "thinning the herd" of Anchors.
     "If only I could have followed Arn..." he mused aloud.  "I might not
have lived this long, but it would have been a better life to have."
     Hector went to the wall and lifted a sword in its scabbard from its pegs
there.  It was a razor-thin rapier that could slice through stone walls,
thanks to its Collapsinum construction.  Arn, the WarStar, had commissioned
it for Hector, a badge of office when he elevated the Anchor to second in
command of the armies of New Ilium.  It had never tasted blood, the battle
that finally came was on another world, a world that Hector's Anchor would
not let him travel to.
     Perhaps it was time for the slim blade to taste blood for the first and
last time.  He unsheathed the sword, light despite the density of its metal,
for it was barely thicker than a sheet of paper.
     As he stood in the dim light of his study and pondered the blade, Hector
was startled by a boom of thunder and a flare of energy from the ruined
courtyard.  Could it be?  Even an Anchor was not immune to the caprices of
fate or the twisted humor of irony....
     Still holding the sword bare in his hand, Hector raced down the stairs
with an energy he hadn't demonstrated for over a decade.  A D-Gate had formed
in the courtyard.  He was positive of that fact.  Twenty six years did not
much dim the memory of such a thing as that.  
     But who would it be?
     Arn, come to visit his old friend?  An enemy of Arn's looking for
revenge?  Perhaps the sword would taste blood other than Hector's this night.
     He leapt from the doorway as soon as the heavy blast doors had opened
wide enough to admit his slender frame.  The D-Gate was still roaring, and a
figure was carefully pushing across the interdimensional threshold.  Too
small to be Arn, who had been built like a modern-day Hercules, but still
formidable.
     But wait!  On the figure's chest glowed a familiar emblem, the crest Arn
had worn!  But...different.
     As the D-Gate closed and Hector's eyes ceased to be painfully dazzled by
the energy it cast off, he realized that this newcomer was quite a bit
smaller than Arn ("only" about two meters tall), with a slim frame, almost
feminine.
     "Who goes there?" Hector demanded, fighting to keep the quavering of his
voice down.
     The woman, for that is definitely what the stranger was, stepped forward
and sized Hector up.  Then her eyes landed on the sword and she squinted for
a moment, as if trying to decide if Hector was who she thought he was.
     The decision was made.  She got down on one knee and bowed, laying a
great mace down between her and Hector.  He didn't need to try and lift it to
know it was made of Collapsiron, the superdense metal that the Astro Spear
had been forged from.
     Finally she spoke, in a rich contralto.  "I am Polla, the TerraStar.  My
father, the Emperor, sends his greetings, Hector Rodriguez."

               *              *              *              *

[July 11, 2024 - CNN Worldwide Broadcast]

     "Let us talk about Solar Max and what he intended to do.  You heard it
all.  He intended to destroy me and my nation with a meteorite, no doubt with
sanctions from the Combine.  Surely this is no less than a declaration of
war!  I demand that the United World take action and discipline Solar Max
immediately, or else...."
     The images taken at the Vatican showed Triton, a grand cape flowing from
his shoulders and the helmet of his armor tucked under one arm, playing to
the cameras with thinly-disguised relish.  The final freezeframe of the
Chancellor of Khadam shaking his fist shrank to the upper right corner of the
screen to reveal a news anchor.
     "For the second time in just over two weeks, the self-proclaimed 'First
Supervillain of the modern age' has seized the spotlight on the world stage,"
said the anchor, carefully keeping a professional neutrality in his voice and
features.  "While public opinion is fairly strongly against the rogue nation,
this incident has served as a potent reminder of just how much power the
supernatural population of our world has, and InstantPolls indicate that a
majority of the Combine's population is at least uncomfortable with the
actions of Solar Max, aka Jonathan Taylor."
     The image shifted from Triton to Solar Max, a file photo from the New
Year's Eve events in Las Vegas.  A scroll across the bottom displayed polling
numbers for various questions.
     "In just a moment, Chancellor Ruiz is to make a statement regarding the
charges brought by Triton...we go there now live," the anchor amended, and
the image shifted to show the nominal leader of the Combine standing in his
press room behind the "bouquet" of microphones that was traditional, if no
longer necessary.
     "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, thank you for coming to this
conference.  I will be keeping my statements brief, please hold any questions
until the end."
     An expectant hush fell over the room.
     "Chancellor Radner," Ruiz's expression darkened slightly, as if he
rankled at the fact that his own Chancellorhood was barely better than a
figurehead position, while the man he was speaking about had the true power
that a Chancellor should have.  "Chancellor Radner has accused Solar Max, the
leader of the Academy of Super-Heroes, of an act of war against his nation.
He has further implied that the actions of Solar Max were unauthorized, and
that Solar Max should be handed over to him for punishment.  He is wrong on
all counts."
     A murmur spread through the room, with a cynical undertone.  Ruiz
continued.
     "Chancellor Radner may wish to examine the history of the nation he has
risen to lead," Ruiz smirked.  "Since 1998 there has existed a state of war
between Khadam and the nations now comprising the European Union, resulting
from Khadam's attempted invasion of the French Riviera.  While the invasion
was repulsed, the state of war was never officially ended, nor was there so
much as a ceasefire signed.  The Treaty of the Hague in 2014 between the
European Union and the North American Combine included terms that extended
this effective state of war to the Combine as well.  Hence, the actions of
Solar Max could not constitute a provocation of war, as a state of war has
existed between the North American Combine and Khadam for nearly a decade.
Furthermore, by not only harboring but elevating to leadership a convicted
felon and wanted murderer from the North American Combine, Khadam has
elevated the tensions between our nations."
     Ruiz paused to sip from his glass of water.  "Furthermore, the actions
were fully authorized," he held up a data cube, the holographic successor to
the compact discs still used in many homes.  "Once our tracking satellites
detected the incoming asteroid, it was quickly identified and determined to
have previously been on a non-Earth-intersecting trajectory.  It had been
moved so that it would land in the Mediterranean, generating tsunamis that
would devastate coastlines already battered by Hurricane Triton.  Solar Max
was authorized to redirect this asteroid to Khadam, the nation responsible
for aiming it at Earth in the first place.
     "To summarize, it was Khadam that chose to escalate the state of war
existing between themselves and the other nations of the world.  Solar Max
was duly authorized to mete out what might be considered poetic justice.  I
will now open the floor to questions...."
     The room erupted in sound and fury.

               *              *              *              *

[July 19, 2024 - Nakoma, Wisconsin Sector]

     Peregryn stood as Essay drifted out of the examination room in her
self-made hoverchair.  She'd been continually modifying it, since it was
always at hand to tinker with, and it had gotten surprisingly nimble.  It
even folded up to pass through narrow doorways, then "relaxed" once through.
     "What do they say?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the room she
had just left.  He did not add that he had already been given a private
briefing on the doctor's findings a few minutes ago.
     Essay shrugged.  "A couple of the usual _locuras_, some self-esteem
issues, some post-traumatic stuff.  Nothing I needed a doctor to tell me.
And nothing I think would be keeping me in this chair," she slapped one arm
of it in annoyance.  "How's Arin?" she asked, in an obvious attempt to steer
conversation away from places she didn't want to go.
     Peregryn went along with the ploy, though.  "She's improving,
physically, although still recovering from the starvation she experienced
during the accelerated pregnancy.  Mentally, she's adjusting better than
expected.  Her odd association with the satyr seems to actually be helping
her.  She's still fairly conflicted, but, to be honest, this is the strongest
I've seen her spirit...ever."  When others talked about seeing a person's
spirit, they usually meant the outward expression of personality and
attitude.  But Peregryn used ther term in a more literal sense...all things
had spirits, even the unliving stone.  And Arin's spirit burned far more
brightly than he'd ever seen it.
     "And Christopher?" Essay asked, referring to Arin's son.
     Peregryn shook his head.  "Anchored at all times.  Fortunately, one of
the Anchors employed by this facility was on maternity leave and volunteered
to wet-nurse Christopher."  Arin was still in no condition to nurse her own
child, given the wracking she'd suffered.  The baby's control over time had
manifested in utero, causing him to start aging rapidly, coming to full term
in hours instead of months and draining what he needed from his mother.  "But
unless someone is able to create a device to interfere with the child's
powers, he will have to be raised by Anchors, or with Anchors always
present."
     "Pobrecito," Essay muttered.  Then, as if discussing someone else's
problems had given her the courage to face up to her own, she fixed Peregryn
with a stare and asked, "So what do I do now?  The doctors say I should be
healing on my own, but I'm not.  The shrinks say I might be healing more
slowly because of 'unresolved issues,' but that doesn't really help me.  Got
any magic tricks that might help?"
     Peregryn paused.  He knew what the unresolved issues were, or at least
had been able to assemble a pretty good idea from what the doctors had told
him.  The fact that *he* had been told was in itself a large clue.  If he was
right, he could help.
     But if he was wrong, he might just make things worse for everyone.
     Mentally, he sighed.  Magic was so simple...five laws, five clastics to
break them.  Pay as you go or build up a stock of favors.  But the human
heart was far more complicated, and it had always scared him at least a
little.
     Still...
     "Yes, I think I do."

               *              *              *              *

[July 20, 2024 - Ottawa, Ontario Sector]

     "...yes, I said *well done*.  I have complete confidence in the chef's
ability to prepare it that way without drying it out," Scott said, slightly
exasperated.  As the waiter left the table, Scott shrugged and rolled his
eyes.  "Is it so wrong to want a steak that's not dripping with blood?" he
asked Juliana.
     "Oh, don't make such a fuss, Scott...now that you're finally willing to
leave your apartment, are you going to make it so I can't take you anywhere?"
she replied, rolling her eyes in a mockery of his own gesture.  "Besides, I
try to avoid anything that was dripping with blood at any point in the
preparation.  Not everyone has a paranormal metabolism to burn off all the
bad stuff."
     "If I recall correctly," Scott mused, "that didn't stop you in high
school."
     Juliana mock-frowned.  "Is there anything you and my brother *didn't*
talk about?"
     "Retro-Country music.  After all, what more needs be said about that?"
     The two chuckled for a moment, almost forgetting for that instant the
death that had brought them together.  At least, Scott reflected, they
weren't just sobbing in each others' arms all day like some bad melodrama.
     "So," Juliana took a sip of her water.  "How are things going regarding
Khadam?  Should I be planning an extended trip to Australia?"
     Scott shrugged.  "Nothing.  A little bluster here and there, but nothing
overt.  Either Radner has let the power go to his head, or all this talk of
war is a smokescreen for something else.  So we sit and wait.  Except for
JakZak.  He sits and broods.  Poor guy."
     "Is he in trouble?" she asked, suddenly concerned.  "I thought he had
the full support of the government?"
     "Oh, yeah.  He's not in danger of being hauled up on charges or handed
over to Khadam as a peace offering.  But he's been a wreck since he dropped
the rock.  I'm kinda glad I've been staying out here in Canada, he can't be
easy to be around right now."
     Juliana snorted indignantly.  "I don't think he has anything to feel bad
about.  I was in Monaco that week, and I certainly wouldn't have appreciated
being killed by a tidal wave when that asteroid hit.  I agree with the
Chancellor.  Poetic justice."
     Scott shrugged.  He could point out that even the executioner feels some
pangs carrying out his duties.  Or that knowing you're capable of mass
murder, regardless of the reasons, has got to tear a hole in your gut.  But
none of that would have done anything but ruin the mood of the evening, so he
let it drop.  "So, where're you headed next?" he asked, to change the subject
slightly.  "I suppose I could give you a threat assessment for it," he
grinned.
     "Well, it's back to the studio in Paris for a few days, then I have a
show to manage in Montreal.  I can probably make it back here on the 29th or
30th if you haven't gone off to save the world by then...."

               *              *              *              *

[July 23, 2024 - Little Blue Lake, Wisconsin Sector]

     The cabin was small and simple, but it did have a few amenities.  Like
the deep pile carpeting in one of the bedrooms, a room Peregryn had converted
to a meditation chamber years ago when he was still at the Academy.  The
cabin, like all the property within twenty miles of the Academy, had been
bought by the government back in the 1980s when the Northwoods Correctional
Facility had been built...no one wanted to live near a super-prison.  Even
though the former "Pit" had been converted to a school, the government kept
ownership of the property for security purposes.  As the son of a government
official, however, Peregryn had been able to acquire title to it on his
eighteenth birthday.  He claimed he needed a place away from the mystical
"din" of the Academy to perfect his craft, and eventually someone in charge
had agreed.  When his schedule permitted it, he would bicycle (or travel by
mystic means) to the small cabin on the tiny lake and study in private.
     Now the privacy served a slightly different purpose.
     "What sort of spell?" Essay had asked, back in that waiting room in
Nakoma.  When he told her, and explained what "tantric" meant, she had been
shocked initially.  But she had accepted that the main problem seemed to be
one of nervous sensation, and of all the magicks Peregryn was aware of, none
so well suited an increase in sensation as the sexual spells of tantric
magic.  Now that she'd had a few days to think about it, she'd agreed to try
it. 
     Now she sat on the carpet, her legs sprawled like those of a doll,
unable to move or feel.  "So, bring girls up here often?" she joked.
     He paused in the middle of painting a mystic sigil on her left knee.  "I
simply wanted to avoid any problems that 'fallout' might cause.  This isn't a
style of magic I've used before, and it can have unpredictable results.
Especially if we were to try it in the middle of a crowded city...with a
satyr living down the hall."
     He bent back to his task as she chuckled, glad he had started at the
waist while his resolve was still fresh.  While the tank top and bikini
bottom she wore weren't particularly revealing, he found it more and more...
distracting...as he continued the work.  Despite the reputation he knew he
had as a "cold fish," now he felt like one of the many fish that had been
cooked in the cabin's kitchen over the years.  And it wasn't the unseasonably
warm summer...the t-shirt and shorts he wore were mainly to avoid marring the
sigils with the hem of his usual cloak or robe.  This heat was internal, not
something that the fire elementals in his service could protect him from.
     Finally he finished the last symbol, painted on the sole of Sara's left
foot.  If she'd had any sensation in her legs, she might have been tickled
and jerked away.  But no reaction yet.
     "So...nothing yet," she said, echoing his thoughts.
     "Well, now you need to...charge...the spell.  As you get more aroused,
the magic will activate, which should create a sort of feedback loop.  The
effects may not last long, but if it works at all I'll have something to base
future spells on."  He stood to leave the room.
     "Wait.  I can't feel anything below my waist...how do I get things
started?" 
     Peregryn felt his face flush and tried to keep his voice level.
"Arousal is primarily mental," GODS is that right, he thought.  "It's not
what's below your waist so much as what's above your shoulders...and that's
working perfectly.  As the spell begins to work...other options...should
present themselves."  He paused and swallowed, his mouth and throat dry.  "If
you need me, I'll be in the front room, meditating."
     Before he could turn to go, Essay said, "Wait."
     She lifted off her top slowly, almost reluctantly.  "I...I think I need
you now.  If...if that's okay with you," she asked, blushing.  He realized
he'd never seen her blush in all the years he'd known her.  But then, neither
of them was much given to that sort of thing...they'd gingerly danced around
each other for years now, neither willing to let down defenses enough to
admit how they felt.
     The defenses came crashing down.  Any thought Peregryn may have had of
leaving the room vanished with them.

               *              *              *              *

[July 28, 2024 - Chicago, Illinois Sector]

     Sarah was starting to wonder if there was some sort of curse associated
with leading a team of superheroes these days.  Rapsutin of EUROPA was
crippled in the New Year's Day incident.  Grind had been going totally
obsessive, from what Jen Kleinvogel told her.  And now her husband was in a
deep funk that she just couldn't shake him from.  He wouldn't even tell her
all of what was bothering him...said that the less she knew, the better off
she was. 
     Times like this she just wanted to haul off and hit him a few hundred
times, slap some sense into him.  "The less you know, the better."  RIGHT.
Pull the other one, it explodes.  When she promised "for better or for
worse," she'd meant it.  Sometimes men could be just so...
     A commotion down the hall broke her train of thought, and she dashed
down to see what it was.  Maybe it was someone she COULD hit a few hundred
times.  At least it would be a distraction.
     There was a small mob of people surrounding Peregryn, who'd been gone
with Essay for nearly a week now.  She guessed Essay was in the knot of
people as well, but only the lanky mage could be seen over the heads of
support personnel and a few ASH members who seemed to be congratulating the
pair.
     She tapped someone on the shoulder and got him to move aside.  Essay was
standing, on her own, at Peregryn's side!
     "Essay!  You're on your feet!" Sarah squealed in delight.  Then she
caught the way Essay and Peregryn were standing together, and her grin turned
to a sly smirk.  "At least some of the time," she added.  
     Essay shot her a confused glance, while Peregryn did his best not to
look embarrassed.  Odd that *he* should pick up Sarah's drift first.  
     "Oh, don't play coy...I'm just glad you two are *finally* together.  I
swear, every time the two of you were in a room together since, gods, the
first time you met...well, it's been like waiting for the other shoe to
drop." 
     "It was that obvious?" Essay asked.
     "To everyone but you two, yeah," Sarah nodded her head and grinned.
"Anyway, looks like whatever spell Peregryn thought up worked," she gestured
at Essay's legs.
     Essay leaned in and stage-whispered conspiratorially, "Don't tell
Scorch, but it turns out all I needed was to get laid."
     There was a ripple of laughter, and Peregryn sputtered, "Well, it was a
little more complicated than that..."
     "You're telling me...I didn't know some of those things were possible!"
Essay chuckled.  "But seriously...yeah.  There really was nerve damage that
should have been healing.  _Dios_, I'd healed from worse after a spill from
my homemade motorcycle when I was 15.  Use whatever psychobabble you want, I
was messed up in the head, and I was keeping myself from healing.  Like I
didn't think I deserved to be whole."
     "It's possible that traditional counseling would have helped her get
over this," Peregryn interjected, "although it would have taken months or
even years.  This seemed more...efficient."
     "And a LOT more fun," Essay added, reaching up to kiss Peregryn on the
chin.  "Took a couple days to figure out the spells and get everything healed
right...and then a couple more days just because," she grinned wickedly.
     Sarah smiled.  If only all problems could be solved so easily.
     Suddenly, klaxons sounded and the building's PA crackled to life.
JakZak's voice came over the system loudly and clearly.
     "Everyone report to duty stations, ASH members to the briefing room.
The balloon has gone up...the CSV is attacking Montreal!"
     In the fraction of a heartbeat it took her to reach the briefing room,
Meteor reflected that some problems simply wouldn't go away quite so easily,
but that hitting them several hundred times just might do the trick....

=============================================================================

Next Issue:

     First, go read CSV #15 for the first part of the Battle of Montreal!
Not everyone's going to be walking away from this one!  Then come back here
for the finale of the first ASH/CSV battle in "Polar Glare"!

=============================================================================

Author's Notes:

     Triton's speech as seen on CNN was taken directly from CSV #14, written
by Tony Pi.
     Little Blue Lake is a real place in northern Wisconsin, and my family
vacationed there for a couple weeks each summer from 1978 through 1983.
     [Later note: The date reference in Hector's scene to "26 years and two
months" was incorrect, and has been changed to two weeks rather than two
months.]