//|| //^^\\ || || .|. COHERENT COMICS UNINCORPORATED PRESENTS // || \\ || || --X--------------------------------------------- //======================= '|` ACADEMY OF SUPER-HEROES #26 // || \\ || || "Channel Crossing" // || \\__// || || Copyright 2000 by Dave Van Domelen ___________________________________________________________________________ [cover is looking over Channel's shoulder as he fights his way through some kind of explosion or fireball.] 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 Scorch Pyrokinetic ACTIVE Channel George Sylvester Energy Transmutation 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 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [May 10, 2024 - United World Building, Australia] "Kasca of Kas'r has been handed over to me," Delta Rose confirmed, her short pink hair bobbing slightly as she talked. While she looked human, that was the result of extensive prosthetic surgery designed to let her fit into a humanoid-dominated organization, the Galactic Warrior Patrol. Last time I'd been to this building, we'd been sneaking around...badly, as it turned out. Delta's alien mind not only made her almost impossible for telepaths to read, it also interfered with human psi powers in the vicinity, including our psi-boosted disguises. My buddy Scorch nearly jumped out of his skin when she calmly invited us in last summer. [ASH #8 - Ed.] "I understand that as a Santari, he'd be under your jurisdiction, but he tried to kill us, and almost succeeded in a few cases," Solar Max gestured in my direction, then swept his hand to indicate Scorch and Essay as well. "I don't want him getting away with a slap on the wrist because he's part of a Santari High Family." Delta laughed, a short, bitter bark. "You're a good man, Mr. Taylor, but you really don't understand politics," she smiled, then turned to look out the holographic "window." This office was deep inside the main office block of the United World Building outside Canberra, so there couldn't be any real windows. But, as a natural flyer, she must have felt closed in without at least the illusion of an opening. "As long as there was only suspicion, House Kas'r could deflect probes and generally keep us from poking around. But now that we have Kasca red-handed, they're going to distance themselves as much as they can. Besides...his crimes carry a very swift death penalty." The surprise on JakZak's face probably mirrored my own, an expression that swept over the whole room. "Attempted murder isn't that..." I found myself blurting. The alien woman turned to face me. "Conspiracy to destroy a planet IS 'that.' As a high-ranking official in the Corps, Kasca was one of a few people we had our eyes on after the Arcanovore incident last year, since he had both access to the information and possible motive to pass it on. Standard procedure is that subjects under investigation are taken off active duty, which we did. But he knew our surveillance procedures too well and was able to fake his presence on a remote hunting preserve on Santar while he headed for Earth. Now that his House is trying to distance itself from him, though, it's stopped blocking our investigators, and we have proof that he was the one who told the rest of his House about the Arcanovore, and not some conveniently-deceased Pranir infopeddler as they initially claimed." She paused to catch her breath, her normally pale face was turning ruddy with suppressed anger. "We may no longer have the power to enforce the laws effectively on an interplanetary scale, but the Galactic Warrior Corps *will* keep the law amongst its own. I plan to question him to find out if he has any other plans in the works, or if he's given away the location of any dangerous technology...and then I will carry out his sentence." I guess most of the others were thinking right than about how alien she really was...but I know my history. This was all very human-like, at least in the results. It's just that ASH wasn't a military organization, so we didn't think like one. The Corps, however, was a very ruthless military organization. It had to be. It guarded secrets that could destroy entire solar systems. Secrets that Kasca still carried around with him. JakZak recovered first. "Fine. One question, though: is there a superweapon buried under Wichita?" "Not one of ours, no," she replied. "As far as I can tell, he chose the site purely for its ability to jam sensors and its remote location. That it also interefered with magical detection was an extra bonus. No, there was no carrot there...he just wanted to humiliate you all and then kill you for the setback you dealt his House last year." She sighed. "Kasca was always way too big on honor, especially that of his High Family. A generation ago, a man like that would never have made it past trooper rank. But now, with petty politics getting into everything..." she threw her arms up in frustration. Contact spoke up. "If you want, I can scan his mind. It will be more effective than regular questioning, since he's not a psi-blank like you." I didn't have to be a telepath to know that Contact was concerned about Delta Rose's methods of interrogation. Torturing Kasca to death didn't even appeal to *me*, and he'd *crucified* me! "No," was her firm response. "Like I said, he knows too many dangerous secrets. And no offense meant to you personally, but I can't let *any* human have that information. That's why I had him segregated from the other prisoners as soon as I heard he'd been captured...there's a chance he might have tried to pass on some bit of lethal information as an act of vengeance. With his implant disabled, I should be able to extract whatever information I need before I carry out sentence." She kept saying "carry out sentence," rather than "kill him." The others might've thought by then that she wass a cold monster, but I could see that she didn't like what she had to do either. Like the soldier who had to condemn a pillbox full of enemy soldiers to hideous burning death with his flamethrower...she knew it was a horrible act, but a necessary one. Or was I just projecting my own sense of unease at this all onto her? Perhaps. But she'd been among humans longer than I'd been alive, some of it had to have rubbed off on her, right? On the other hand, at any time in the past generation she could have been given the "necessary" order to destroy Earth, for the safety of the galaxy, and she once said she would have carried out such an order. The queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach was from more than just the aftereffects of my injuries.... * * * * [May 16, 2024 - Chicago, Illinois Sector] Scorch and I put down our cards when Essay wheeled into the room. "I hear you two've been cleared for duty," she sighed. "Er, yeah. Clean bill of health," I almost apologized. "I thought you were working on some sort of leg supports so you could walk again?" She nodded and stood up. But I didn't applaud, because I could tell from her expression that she wasn't happy with whatever solution she'd found. Even *Scorch* was keeping his trap shut. Then she wobbled and fell back into the chair. "Induction coils wrapped around my legs and lower body can send charges into my muscles and make them contract," she explained. "But I'm still numb below the waist. No feedback control, it's like controlling a videogame character." "Well, there's always practice," Scorch offered helpfully. Essay nodded. "Working with a physical therapist on that. But I can lift nearly a ton, manos...it'll take a long time before I have enough fine control to trust myself not to kick a hole in someone by accident, no?" "I guess it'll be a while before you're back in the field then," I replied glumly. I couldn't get over feeling guilty about all this. She's the toughest of the three of us, physically...why did *she* have to be the only one to suffer permanent damage? On the other hand, it did point out how damned lucky I'd been lately. Two near-death experiences this year alone. Hadda think of something to do about that. Essay spat out some word in Spanish that I didn't recognize and doubted would be in a dictionary. "I may not be able to walk for a while, but I'm not gonna sit around on my ass doing nothing! Already started building myself a replacement for this," she patted the wheelchair, "with weapons, sensors, maybe even a hoverdrive if I can swing it." Scorch and I grinned in spite of ourselves. At least she wasn't rolling over and dying, a good sign. Then Scorch's grin faded, as if he'd just realized something. "Wait...you're totally numb below the waist?" he asked. Essay nodded grimly. "So you can't..." he trailed off. She shrugged. "I didn't have a sex life before this, so I don't see it mattering much." "Really?" Scorch arched an eyebrow. "I'd have thought..." "You'd have thought wrong, okay?" Essay spat, then wheeled out of the room. "Real smooth," I sighed. * * * * [May 21, 2024 - Nakoma, Wisconsin Sector] I knew what to expect before I stepped out of the helijet outside Madison. The fireball was visible from miles away, its concussive waves having flattened half an acre of trees in the first seconds. Arin Kelsey was having a bad day. Ten minutes ago, we'd gotten an emergency call from the hospital where Arin was recovering. Thanks to Lightfoot, we were already on site, but there'd been time to fill the two of us in. Arin had been out for an early morning walk in a nearby park with Peter the Satyr, something that still has my head spinning. The two of them? Weird. Suddenly, she doubled over in pain. Peter tried to come to her aid, but she hurled him away with a focused concussion bolt...one of the tricks she'd "learned" while under Cole's control. Seconds after that, she burst into a sustained explosion that had not yet let up. And it turned out that the actual concussion waves were natural, so none of the available Anchors could get close enough to shut down the violation effect driving the blast field. The source was Anchorable, but unreachable. That's where I came in. "Any changes?" I asked the first person I found who seemed to be in authority. He shook his head. "MetaPsych's got someone upstate on some sort of nature hike, he's gonna try to get here as soon as possible, but hopefully you'll be able to handle this." "Fine," I nodded. "Where's the Anchor?" "You're looking at him," the man replied. "Okay. Here's how we do it. I divert the blast as I go in. You stick close, but keep your Anchor tamped down. Once you're *sure* you're close enough to lock down Arin's powers, tap me on the shoulder twice." He bobbed his head in agreement. This was a dangerous trick...if he shut down my powers without shutting down hers, we could both be toast. And the little trick I'd been thinking of wouldn't have saved me, since I'd be Anchored. We stepped up to the periphery of the blast field. She's been blasting for over fifteen minutes now...I had no idea where she was getting the energy. Concentrating, I converted nearby concussive energy into a beam of light that I aimed upward diffusely. We walked forwards, the beacon letting those outside follow our progress. After a few steps, I realized that the ground was sloping downwards. Arin's blasts had pulverized the ground and fused it into a glassy crater, unsettlingly familiar after Wichita. The ground continued to drop away, and my heart sank. "She's floating on blast pressure!" I shouted over my shoulder. I couldn't damp the roar of the explosions without silencing my own voice as well, so I shouted as loudly as I could. We reached the center. I could feel the forces I was redirecting now coming from straight overhead, and I sent my diverted energy off at an angle. Arin was still invisible through the heat. I grabbed the Anchor's arms and wrapped them around my waist. He resisted for a moment, then understood, holding on tightly. Then I took my redirected energy and launched into the heart of the maelstrom. It was a wobbly sort of flight, but we thudded into something solid. And just like that, it was all gone. I scrabbled to grab hold of Arin as she went limp and we fell several meters onto fused bedrock. With a shock, I realized that Arin must have been nine months pregnant, if not more! "Protect her!" I shouted to the Anchor as I tried to shift myself so that my body would cushion her fall. The three of us landed painfully, and I heard a bone or two crack beneath me as the Anchor hit first. Amazingly, he didn't lose his hold on Arin's powers. Emergency workers scrambled into the crater, skidding along the still hot sand and rock. Arin's eyes fluttered open as she raised a hand to her belly...then her eyes shot wide open. "I guess he made the choice for me..." she almost whispered. Then pain wracked her body and she cried out. The first doctor to reach the bottom took one look at Arin and called out over his shoulder, "Hurry, she's about to give birth! No, I *don't* know how that's possible!" And considering she'd only been carrying the child three or four months at the outside, I didn't know either.... * * * * [May 21, 2024 - Chicago, Illinois Sector] I wanted to just crawl into bed and sleep for a day or two, but I didn't think my legs would make it all the way from the helipad to my quarters, so I settled for slumping in a chair in the lounge. The lounge turned out to be occupied, but I was too tired to care at the moment. Christina Li was also in the room, and it sounded like she was playing the guitar...or a synthesizer, since the sounds didn't quite fit a stringed instrument. As I sank into a deep comfy chair, my curiosity won out over my weariness enough to ask, "Whatcha playin', Tina?" "Laser Guitar," she answered without looking up. Well, I didn't think she looked up, but my eyes were closed at the time. Then, as if anticipating a followup question, she added, "Lasers and photogates for strings, analog pressure sensor strips on the neck for chording. Never really caught on, but it's useful for practicing my fine control and multitasking, since I can't use my TK on the strings like I do on the chording. My 'uncle' Brent gave it to me as a graduation present, although I used to play one of his before I came to the Academy." I nodded. Well, I sort of slumped more. Tina and her father were the only survivors of a group that fled China in 2001. Her mother had gotten her PhD in the U.S., and her contacts helped the two survivors make it into the country and gave them a place to live. Tina grew up around universities, around scientists and other weird people. So it wasn't too much of a surprise she played some sort of avant guarde instrument. Sounded nice, though. "So," she paused, turning off the instrument and folding it up. "I heard Arin Kelsey had her child today." It was a statement and a question. He'd been there, he knew the details. Sure, Tina probably didn't know Arin as anything but "that nervous girl in the lead class," but curiosity is part of being human. Or superhuman. "Yeah. Christopher Martin Kelsey. Born either four months premature or two months late, depending on what calendar you use. Six kilos, about." By this time my eyes were open again, so I saw Tina's brow furrow in confusion. I smiled weakly. "Near as we can tell, little Christopher has time-control powers of some sort. Once his Magene kicked in, he started aging at an accelerated pace. I guess Cole really DID want an instant army for his holy crusade." "That sounds horrible! How did Arin survive? She...did survive, right?" "Barely. Wherever she gets energy for her blasts, she tapped into that source to feed the baby's hunger. She got locked into that, which is why I had to help shut her down. We also shut Christopher down, which was a damn good thing...a few minutes more and..." I let the words trail off. It was more grotesque than I really wanted to talk about at the moment. If ever. "But the energy wasn't enough, and she's drained of a lot of proteins and nutrients, serious crash. As if she'd spent a few months on a hunger strike all at once. She's on an IV drip that's practically a pump right now, and Christopher is with an Anchor. Poor kid...he's gonna have to stay with an Anchor until he grows up enough naturally to learn to control his powers. And even then, time control is so dangerous that the government might insist on keeping him Anchored at all times." Tina frowned. "Welcome to the People's Republic of Combine." "It's not..." I was too tired to argue with her. "Whatever." Back at the Academy, she and Popper had been the closest thing we had to anarchists, in her case due to her rather liberal academic upbringing and resentment about China. Popper was another case entirely, but I wasn't going to hang *that* stigma on Tina's head. After all, she wasn't a Khadamite Template Assassin. On a good day, I might have been able to convince her that Anchoring Christopher really was best for everyone, Christopher included. At the back of my head, there was a niggling little voice that told me that some powers were just too damn dangerous to be used. Kinda like Scott Ritter back at the Academy, during senior year. He and JakZak had about the same powers, but while JakZak seemed to have some sort of internal circuit breakers, Scott didn't. Like, when JakZak pushed reality too hard, it swatted him back...but only JakZak suffered for it. When Scott pushed too hard, reality broke, and everyone suffered. MAN was that a nasty afternoon when it all busted loose. Scott had understood, and had someone at MetaPsych put mental blocks on him so he couldn't accidentally use his powers...or even casually. I knew there was another really good example bouncing around the back of my brain, but I was too tired to remember it. Anyway, your freedom to destroy the world ends at my world, to modify an old aphorism about faces and swinging fists. I understood that, Scott understood that...Tina didn't seem to. Tina picked up her guitar case, a little thing about the size of a textbook, and stalked out of the room. * * * * [June 3, 2024 - Chicago, Illinois Sector] "Ah, the people love us," Scorch licked the last of the spices off his fingertips as we left Ziggy's Za. "They love Sal, but us? What makes you think that?" "We get free food. It's almost a crime," he smirked. "Dummy, I set up an account there last summer, don't you remember? It just comes straight out of our bank accounts," I smacked him on the back of the head. "Shhhh, don't spoil the illusion, George!" he grinned. "Of course, given how much we actually spend otherwise, it might as well be free. Your sister keeps sending us clothing, claiming we make her more money by wearing them than any supermodel could...not that I am not beautiful," Scorch batted his eyes and pursed his lips in a mockery of a male model. "We get housing and transportation on the job, and neither of us has gotten into any expensive hobbies yet. Suppose we should?" I shrugged. "Well, most of the money spent on us goes into stuff other than our pay. We're doing okay, last time I checked our balances, but I wouldn't start collecting Ihis or anything." "Well, if we turned evil like Radner, we could be rich," Scorch smirked. "Or dead...ten to one he's been backstabbed by now." "Nah," I shook my head. "On the first point, we get enough that we don't need to steal to live...and anyone still motivated by greed after all the ethics we had drummed into us at the Academy wouldn't be in ASH. They'd be working for some megacorp as a high-priced security guard or pitchman. Like Ramon, over at Magnum. Second, from what Sarah was able to figure out in Khadam, Triton's gathering reinforcements. He's the one with the big 'Classic Villain' thing going...if he were dead, I suspect the CSV would collapse into solos and duos, not try to get bigger. The larger the CSV gets, the bigger the temptation to just lob a nuke at them or something, and I think most of them know that." "Unless Radner's gimmicked up an anti-nuke device or something," Scorch countered. "Um, and they kept it after killing him." "Maybe," I shrugged. The whole CSV situation worried me. They were parked somewhere near the Citadel of Khadam, making deals with God knew who. So far, the rulers of Khadam had deemed it more profitable to coexist more or less peacefully with their neighbors...if you ignored a few border disputes with the Moslem Confederation and trouble with the Eurasian Union's African members...but Radner's megalomania could result in everything hitting a very large fan in that hemisphere. The Anchor Plague had almost done that already, but fortunately Peregryn had been able to defuse that. I decided to change the subject. "What do you think about the new Marshals program?" "What, putting one or two of the current Grads in each major city around the Combine?" He shrugged. "I still think we should grab all forty or so of the current class and clean out Manhattan. We both know the only reason there's anything resembling peace there right now is because the head inmate is running the prison. I don't care how well-financed and well-organized the paragangs are now, fifty of the Combine's best and brightest supernormals should be able to wipe them off the island and into the Cavity inside a week." "And cause the deaths of tens of thousands of innocents in the process, when the paragangers start fighting dirty," I snarled. Scorch was my best friend, but sometimes his view of reality was dangerously simplistic. "The team they *are* sending in may not be able to do everything in a week, but they should be able to do it without depopulating Manhattan entirely." "Fine, fine," he waved his hand in a "simmer down" gesture. "Other than wanting them to sweep the streets of Manhattan, I think the Marshals are a good idea. I mean, look at what Sal's been able to do just by hanging out in Mexico City and being available to the people. And the sort of obvious turfwar kind of crime in Chicago's way down from before we got here, although I bet a lot of the problem kids went to Manhattan when we showed up. Putting one or two Grads in uniform in each big city should help. Ten to one the local authorities kick and scream, though." "Oh yeah, the cops are just going to LOVE having some superpowered kid hanging around, getting to play by different rules. Not that *I'm* too keen on the broader police powers the Marshals are going to have, either," I sighed. "Remember Hetherington and Akagi? They honestly missed being able to all but lead-pipe suspects, like they used to before the government decided to un-suspend individual liberties." "Yeah, STRAFE's got a bunch of ex-SPIRIT guys like that. If Popper hadn't turned out to be an evil shapeshifting power-stealing Khadamite, he might have ended up in STRAFE with them, and...hoo boy. We'd be finding ex-SPIRIT agents teleported onto flagpoles minus their clothing. And maybe minus some body parts. But how does this relate to the Marshals?" Scorch asked. "Think about it. The Marshals will have certain dispensations depending on their powers. Those with telepathy will be allowed to use broadscans in areas they think may be crime scenes. Those with vision powers or other super-senses will effectively get to eavesdrop without a warrant. And so forth. Granted, it's nothing we're not allowed to do as well, but...." "But you trust us more than you trust them," Scorch finished. I shrugged. "Basically. We've been put through the crucible a couple times, and we haven't always come through intact...remember why Aaron got to take an extended vacation in Baffin. But we're a large enough group to regulate each other and cover any lapses before they get too bad. But a solo operator might fall into the trap of abusing his legal powers, and that could get unpleasant." "Not to mention, the local cops aren't going to like having someone around who can break laws they can't," Scorch nodded. "I'm worried about it going the other way, actually. What if a Hetherington in the local police decides to buddy up to his local Marshal and convince the kid...look at me, I'm calling people a year or so younger than me kids...to bend the law for him," I pointed out. "Hey, until *they've* been crucified, they're kids, I say," Scorch grinned. I chuckled. "You have a point there. And I kinda hope they stay kids, if you know what I mean." "Hey, I just thought of something," Scorch said. It was an old enough joke that I didn't comment on the novelty of him thinking of something. "We can work well as a group because we have someone for every contingiency. You and I don't have much defenses, so others cover for us. Sal's a brick wall, but he has trouble affecting anyone out of reach, which is where we come in. But solo Marshals can't back each other up like that. What're they gonna do?" "I checked out the standard uniform and kit they've been trained on," I replied. "Bulletproof...well, bullet-resistant...uniform with extra armor plates on vulnerable areas. Optional armored helmet, but for most jobs they'll just wear a rig like Essay's goggles-and-comm. Sidearm's one of those new over and under jobs...flechette gun on top, armor piercing rounds under, both caseless, with electric triggering. And for softer targets, a baton with a taser built in, three or four charges before waiting for the capacitors to build back up. Phalanx motorcycles for those without movement powers. They cost about ten times as much as a regular motorcycle cop to equip and train, but they're not just beat cops, they're PR." "Indeed," Scorch nodded. "That reminds me, I checked the sales figures for May. My action figure outsold yours. Nyah nyah!" That was when there was a sudden pain in my neck and the snap of a rifle shot. I couldn't feel my body, but I could see the shock and horror in Scorch's eyes as my blood sprayed onto his face. * * * * "This is WGN Breaking News. Minutes ago, a mere three blocks from the Academy of Super-Heroes headquarters in downtown Chicago, ASH member Channel was shot by an unknown assailant. Channel, also known as George Sylvester, brother of fashion designer Juliana Silvestri, was pronounced dead at the scene. More information as it becomes available, plus a full story at five. We now return you to The Carole Jackson Show." ============================================================================ Next Issue: Those who knew Channel remember him, both publicly and privately, in "Eulogies." ============================================================================ Author's Notes: Yes, I know that the Next Issue box in #25 promised reactions to the events in Khadam. But then I decided to tell this issue from Channel's point of view, and since his death takes place before the events of CSV #13, it became a bit of a logical impossibility to cover that stuff. Such is life. Or death. A note to newer readers, the example Channel couldn't quite remember in the "powers too dangerous to be left loose" musing was his own near destruction of reality in ASH #15. Because the the way that resolved, he can't remember it, as it never actually happened. Scott Ritter was created by John Scheibeler, aka Uplink.