[February 22, 2008 - Manhattan, KS] The doorbell rang, and Hans rushed to get it. The kids were supposed to be out of town today, so either it was a solicitor who needed to be shooed away, or.... He opened the door. A man in a dark business suit under a knee-length wool coat stood on the stoop, pulling off his sunglasses. "I'm Agent Brubaker, I'm With The Government," he introduced himself. "And you have something to tell me about the Exarchs, Doctor Zwarghoff?" "Yes, yes...come in. Can't be too careful, They might be watching," he muttered as he showed the agent of I'm With The Government into the nondescript house. "I have it on good authority that They are otherwise occupied at the moment, between the events in Boston and in California," Agent Brubaker put his sunglasses into a pocket of his coat, then took off the coat and folded it over one arm. "Coat rack?" he asked. "In the closet, I think," Hans gestured in the vague direction of the boot room. His own coat was hanging over the back of one of the dining room chairs, and the kids' coats ended up in random places whenever they visited. Seriously random...he'd been inputting their locations over the past month and there was absolutely no pattern whatsoever. Agent Brubaker seemed a little taken aback by what he saw in the closet, but made no comment before returning to face Hans. "So. The Exarchs have been missing for over two months now. Fortunately, things have been quiet since that one incident at the Manhattan Town Center, so it's mostly been a curiosity to my superiors. And to They, I would presume." "Wait, you know about They?" Hans's eyes widened in shock. No one ever seemed to believe him when he warned about They. He suspected even the Exarchs were just humoring him. "Doctor, I'm With The Government. Of course I know about They. But that's not important right now. What's important, I presume, is the news you have for me, and by extension, for my superiors." "Of course, of course. Let's sit down in the kitchen. Would you like something to drink?" Hans offered. Not that he had a lot of variety in the fridge at the moment. "A glass of milk would be appreciated," Brubaker nodded. "And since you've been playing host to a pair of aspiring Preteen Patrollers, I presume you have some available." Hans got out the carton of 2% and poured some into a Sporkboy tumbler. "Oops, sorry about that, habit," he started to reach for a fresh glass of a more grown-up nature, but Brubaker held up a hand. "That's fine. I was something of a fan of Sporkboy in my youth as well, although I'm not sure I totally approve of what he's done with his life since then," he took the glass and sipped from it. "So, to business?" "To business!" Hans held up the empty second glass. "Eh, heh...a little joke. Yes, right," he sat down, then stood and put the milk back in the fridge, then sat down, then adjusted his glasses, then... "If you're done fidgeting?" "Just a little bit more," Hans held up a finger, then cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt. "Okay. Here's the thing. I'm sure you know about those Naugas that were captured at the mall, right? Well, they're from another altiverse..." "000SUPERDRY, yes. We've had over two months to interrogate them. Their leader, Sung the Stainless, has designs of unknown nature on 000SUPERGUY, but discloses none of his long range plans to his underlings. It could be anything from expanding his dry-cleaning chain into a new market to a naked grab for secular power with the intention of straddling to realities like unto a god. The timing of Sung's interest in 000SUPERGUY is conveniently close to the date of the accident in New Call Hall that supposedly claimed the life of Paul Oakthorn and helped ruin your career, so it seems likely that Oakthorn was not killed but instead transported to 000SUPERDRY via the mechanism of the Cheeez the two of you were studying." "Ah, yes. That shortens my monologue a little, Agent Brubaker. Thank you. So I can get right to what I finally confirmed the other day. 000SUPERDRY is a Fae Altiverse," Zwarghoff revealed. "In which sense? The government is not allowed to discriminate on the basis of sexual preference, as I'm sure you're aware," Brubaker narrowed his eyes. "No, no," Hans shook his head, secretly relieved that he'd finally hit something Brubaker didn't already know about. "Have you ever read or heard the old fairy tales about a man visiting a fairy...or fae...kingdom, enjoying the best evening he's ever had, and then coming home to find a generation has passed and everyone thinks he died?" Brubaker nodded. "My agency is familiar with that sort of fae as well, yes. Although most do not indulge in time travel." "It's not time travel, not exactly. I've been doing a lot of research into obscure altiversal theory while the Exarchs have been gone, since, um, Anna got me access to some restricted arcane libraries online. A Fae Altiverse is one where the temporal constant is not the same as our own. Instead, time passes much more rapidly here than there, so that an evening spent at a party in the Fae Altiverse would correspond to a generation passing in our world. Or maybe two days, or a million years. As far as I can determine, the reason why the Exarchs haven't returned to the rendezvous point yet is because only a few hours have passed for them. They aren't late yet!" Brubaker frowned, then took a long pull from his milk as he thought. "That doesn't jibe with our interrogation," he finally said. "As far as the Naugas know, there's no time flow irregularity between altiverses." "Ah, but that's because for about two years there was an *unnatural* connection between 000SUPERGUY and 000SUPERDRY. The accident at New Call Hall forged a link between the altiverses," Hans held up his hands and intermeshed the fingers, "bringing 000SUPERDRY into synch with the consensus time constant of the majority of altiverses. But when I worked out the flaws in our process and used the Paleoculture to send the Exarchs through, I unwittingly broke that bridge and the timelines were free to move as normal again. It took me a while to figure out, because while I have a Cheeezball open, the timelines synch up again, and something on the other side keeps attacking my probes. But I finally got a probe to stay in one piece between successive Cheeezball openings and managed to determine the time slip rate." "So, if we're to get the Exarchs back some time before the Road Race From Hell finishes," Brubaker mused, "you'd need to hold a link open for an extended period, enough time for them to finish their mission and come back to the rendezvous point. And prevent the mysterious attackers from coming through to this side. Assuming they didn't simply kill the Exarchs upon arrival, of course." Hans shook his head and disentangled his hands. "It's not that simple," he replied, somewhat petulantly. "Keeping a Cheeezball open not only requires a great deal of energy, but it also...stretches spacetime. The energy requirements will increase exponentially over time, and eventually the whole thing will collapse in a spectacular fashion. Explosively, even. So I certainly can't do it here, this neighborhood isn't zoned for non-tornado- related massive devastation." "It seems to me that we could solve multiple problems at once. Install the new gate in an isolated location with a dedicated power source, operate it remotely so that any explosion won't take personnel with it, and this would also move the other end of the gateway so that whoever's been attacking your probes wouldn't necessarily be in position to do so," Brubaker suggested. "Assuming you're willing to get over your paranoia and let the government get involved in this." "There's another problem besides my *completely justified* concerns about the government, Agent Brubaker," Hans frowned. "By my calculations, when the Cheeezball does collapse, the time constant will briefly rebound with a vengeance. The next few seconds in 000SUPERDRY will pass at the same time as about thirty years here. Anyone we can't get out the first time is never coming back, not during this generation." Agent Brubaker nodded. "So we only get one shot to anchor the realities and send a rescue team in after the Exarchs. When will they officially be late for your originally-planned return gate?" "The first week of April, give or take. It'd be nice to have some people available to go through and secure the other end during the few minutes I have the Cheeezball open, though." "That can be arranged," Brubaker nodded. "And I'll take this information to my superiors, along with any data you care to send along. It'll take time to find a suitable location for the second gate and deal with any environmental impact statements and the like, so we can afford to wait and see if they come back on their own before committing to actually building this secondary site." "Thank you, Agent Brubaker. And hopefully They'll keep being distracted long enough for us to pull this off. By the way, I don't suppose you'd be interested in mentoring a Preteen Patrol team?" Hans looked hopeful. "Sorry, Doctor Zwarghoff. I don't do mentoring, I'm just a middleman." __--__--__--__--__--__--__-- \\NEW// --__--__--__--__--__--__--__ .|,Coherent Comics Presents \\ // #13 - What Hiatus? --X------------------------- E }X{ ARCHS copyright 2008 by the '|` A Superguy/LNH Tale // \\ Dvandroid (Dave Van Domelen) --__--__--__--__--__--__--__ // \\ __--__--__--__--__--__--__-- [000SUPERDRY] "Duke Earl?" Skysabre stepped forward as Anna and Kat dropped to the sides to form a defensive triangle of sorts without being blatantly obvious about it. The moonlit forest was full of threats both seen and unseen, and they all seemed to answer to the self-proclaimed Duke in front of Skysabre. "Have you ever met a man, a talented archer, named Paul Oakthorn? We're his comrades, and have reason to believe he is somewhere in these lands." Skysabre mentally crossed his fingers and hoped Paul hadn't managed to become notorious as a villain or something in the two years he'd been here. "If a man sought to make his wage by the bow, he would have ended up among the Suedes," Duke Earl boasted, "for we are Sango's masters at that ancient art. But I have heard of no such man, at least not that I can recall. Neither have I ever heard of anyone called Skysabre, or the Exarchs, as you introduced yourselves [back in episode 11, lo these many months ago - Ed, who thought Hans would never stop yakking.]. How do I know you're not spies for Sung? Or worse, for the unspeakable horrors of the Clay Flats?" "They're not *that* unspeakable," Kat muttered. "Just squirrels made of clay." "Shh," Anna admonished. "Sung the Stainless has sent his men into, um, the lands of our clan," Skysabre replied. "We think he may have been inspired to do so by tales of our friend, or possibly because he has captured Paul." Duke Earl shook his head sadly. "If your comrade has fallen into the foul yet sanitary hands of Sung the Stainless, then you may as well return home, for none escape the steam presses of Sango City. But," his mood brightened, "any victim of Sung's is an ally of the Suedes. Let us feast, and celebrate your comrade's life and sing him into the halls of the dead!" "On the plus side, they're not shooting at us," Kat whispered. "On the minus side, we're definitely going to miss the rendezvous unless we can beg off early from the feasting." "Well, I don't think we were going to make it back anyway, since the Clays made it clear they didn't want us around," Anna whispered back. As the Suedes swung back up into the trees save for a few escorts who firmly "guided" the Exarchs towards the Suede village, Skysabre nodded at the assessment. "We're just going to have to use Sung's own gateway to get back. At least he seems to have some control over where he puts down the Cheeezeballs, so we don't have to pop into the mall...." * * * * [April 3, 2008 - Manhattan, KS] The doorbell rang, and Hans scrambled to get it. Hopefully it'd be the squad of soldiers he was expecting, who would help secure the other end of the Cheeezball so that the Exarchs could come through safely. He opened the door, seeing no one. Then he sighed and looked down. "Hi!" Ecliptic beamed. She was in her new spring-weight costume with the optional holstered umbrella and Hans's latest Cheeez sensor (which he had made to look like a raygun, since Corrine wanted to at least be able to threaten people with something if she had to). Next to her, Mikey was in costume as Space Case, but he seemed to have lost his umbrella already. And on his shoulder was a black squirrel. "Hello, Doctor Zwarghoff," the squirrel said, a contralto voice materializing in his mind as if by magic, even as he faintly heard the squeaking that was the squirrel's true speech. "We have much to do before the day is out." "She followed us home," Ecliptic grinned innocently. "Can she be our third for the Preteen Patrol?" CAN SQUIRRELS JOIN THE PRETEEN PATROL? WILL THE EXARCHS MAKE IT TO THE RENDEZVOUS? ARE *THEY* REALLY AS DISTRACTED AS BRUBAKER CLAIMS? WILL EPISODE 14 COME OUT IN ANYTHING LIKE A REASONABLE TIMEFRAME? Answers to some of these, especially the last one, on the next... SUPERGUY! ============================================================================ Author's Notes: Well, I fell out of inspiration months ago, but since all the other Superguy activity ground to a halt around then (save for occasional episodes of Rad), I didn't feel too guilty about it. Then Eric Burns-White had to go ahead and put out two episodes of The League *and* a character handbook. Curses! Fortunately, I think I've figured out where I want all of this to go now (part of the lack of inspiration was a lack of knowing what the end of the story was going to look like...yes, I tend to make this stuff up as I go most of the time), and I think I can wrap up the Sango arc without being a total cop-out, *and* without requiring a 12-episode grind on my part. :) Agent Brubaker was something of a cipher when he appeared previously, I've grafted some influences from Middleman (ABC Family) onto him, as some readers have already figured out. No plans for a Dubdub analogue yet, but "no plans" describes most of my Superguy writing, as previously mentioned.