SG: Aurora #45 - Above and Beyond (Part Six of Nine)

[Frobozz]

CONTINUED FROM PART FIVE

    "Permit me to introduce myself," said the young woman, with a feigned
sigh at her supposed rudeness. "I fear I've threatened your life without
even having the grace to do that. My manners are simply atrocious. My
name is Jacquline. Jaqueline W--"
    "Wynn," interrupted Peterson automatically as something clicked in
his head. "Oh damn, you know? I thought something sounded familiar about
you. Negging my velocity like this, that's pure Jack. Not sure how in
Hell(tm) you did ashes-to-ashesed to my rifle, but... whatever. I read
Jack's after action report, after he and the Dash tangled * and... Elvis
Almighty, I thought something was fishy about the daughter story. So
you're the Jaqueline girl he met. -Not- someone from the future after
all."
    "What can I say?" replied Jaqueline with a coquettish smile. "I had
so little time and so little to work with. Still, the gullable fool
seemed to buy the story easily enough. I suppose it's continuing proof
that everyone here is quite the idiot, even my--"
    "Counterpart," Peterson said. "I'm not sure how, but..."
    "Would you -please- stop that, Mister Peterson?" snapped Jaqueline,
rounding on the still soldier. "Yes, I'm certain that you wish to prove
that you can think with something other than your trigger, but believe
me the time for impressing me has long since passed."
    "Fine then. If you're so anxious to talk, talk. I really didn't
expect you to be the villain who spilled her guts while the hero was all
trapped, but since you are then let's play to your strengths. What
happened? Why -are- you here?"
    "Traditionally," Jaqueline began in a cool, angry voice. "In your
literature I believe the hero uses this moment to buy time for himself
to escape. Since you've called attention to this oversight..."
    Jaqueline focused on Peterson, waving her hand in the air. The
trooper felt his suit shudder in several directions at once and then all
at once, Peterson's powered armour followed his rifle into dust.
    "It's really a simple variation of my 'father's' ability to make
things go faster and slower, mister Peterson. I simply randomly instruct
the molecules in an object to decide to take separate trips. They wander
off, and you're left with dust. But, since you know my so-called
counterpart so well, perhaps you'd be more comfortable with something
more, as you put it, pure?"
    The young girl waved her hand towards an empty stretch of wall. Like
the victim of a voodoo doll in a cartoon, Peterson found himself rapidly
following the hand's motion. He slammed into the wall with agonizing
force, then slid down to the floor to crumple where he landed.
    But Jaqueline wasn't quite finished with him yet. Casually she
strolled to where Peterson lay and favoured him with a contemptuous
glare. Then as quick as the lightning, her hands darted and slashed,
finishing before Peterson could even feel the pain. But it didn't take
long for the man's nerves to catch up with her hands, and once they did
he screamed more loudly and long than he ever had in his life.
    "Both your legs are broken, Mister Peterson," said Jaqueline, purring
like a cat in cream. "I suspect you're no longer in a position to make
the hero's escape. I suspect you're in no position to 'foil my plans' as
one of your trite little movies would say. In fact, I suspect you're in
no shape to do anything but wait for my troops to--"
    "S... sir," began Clarisse, staring down at her recently abandoned
console. "I--"
    "Shh," whispered Jaqueline, sparing a glare in Clarisse's direction.
She felt annoyed that this downlink, though quite brilliant, could never
quite live up to the responsibility that Pearl should show for her own
actions. She had shown tireless patience, trying to encourage the woman
to stand on her own two feet, but time and time again the effort
amounted to nothing. "You've been a bit of a bother lately. Handle this
yourself, if you would. I'm not interested in your panicked ramblings
-right- at the moment."
    "I... but... sir, I..." Clarisse tried to argue, but this was the
leader. She looked down at her console and slumped, unable to bring
herself to say anything more. Some things simply weren't permitted.
    "Now, where was I?" She put a finger to her chin in mock thought,
then smiled and snapped her fingers. "Ah, I have it! The beginning,
wasn't it? Yes. Really, it all began a long, long time ago. Your world
was facing one of its interminable little crises..."

* (Please see The As Yet Unnamed Ottawa Team #10 for details)

***

    Al Jones -- renegade son of Satan T Lucifer Jones, rebel and
occasional superguy -- gunned his Harley-Davidson Sportster from
Hell(tm) towards the figure who had fallen from the sky just moments ago
and tried to figure out where he'd seen the fellow before. There was
something about this guy that twigged the memory, some place where
they'd once met. Could they have both gone skiing in the Swiss Alps,
perhaps?
    No.
    Then it hit him. This guy hadn't been around Hell(tm) all that much,
but he -had- been around a few times when his father had been touring
around, showing Al all of the secret weapon projects that Hell(tm) had
stockpiled over the centuries. This guy might not have been the first
overweapon that Hell(tm) had developed out of a damned soul -- and he
was not the most powerful out there -- but he certainly ranked in the
top one percent. Worse, he had some other ace up his sleeve, though Al
couldn't quite recall what it was. Something... some strength. It was
hard to remember -every- last superweapon held by 666NASTYNASTYNASTY
since there were so damned many of them, and dad had been so proud of
each and every--
    Pride. That was it. Exposure to the Deadly Sins made him stronger
than he was normally and he was already strong enough to at least give
Mighty Guy a whallop when surprise was on his side. Suddenly Al wished
that he'd lost the coin toss with Reflex and gone to get the burritos.
They could use a bit of power reflection on their side right now, and he
could have -really- used a burrito for the mobility benefits.
    "Wait!" Al cried out, trying to get someone's attention, waving his
arms around frantically. "Wait, I know this guy! You don't want to fight
him with any pride or wrath in you! He'll--"
    Al watched as HotFlash lashed out with her fire, trying to take down
the man who'd sent Mighty Guy flying. She was followed by diverse
members of the ALU, Mythos, Team M.E.C.H.A., the Sentries and Mason's
'Mazin' Mob who were gearing up to take down the demon warrior. From the
skies charged the antlers of justice -- Space Moose -- trying to flank
Gladiator while the rest distracted him with a frontal attack. And some
yutz whom Al had never seen before, dressed up in an Aurora outfit,
streaked down from the sky as well, matching formation with the Moose.
They were the best that the world had to offer, and some of them had
seen a friend go down. They were ready and were determined not to be
stopped as they fought for justice and... vengeance.
    Al facepalmed. That, of course, was the problem. "--that's it, we're
so screwed."

***

    Intradimensional space wavered. The calculations required to hold
together the bridge between one place that was infinitely distant from
another failed as system after system collapsed. As Aurora's network
failed, so too did the bridge between Altiverses...

***

    The Seer ducked frantically a half second before a stone whistled
past where his head had been. Had said head remained in position for
that half second, it would now be enjoying a nice leisurely tour of
South America quite unencumbered by the body to which it would no longer
be attached.
    Darkly, the young Londoner wondered why he'd taken a holiday in
Canada, particularly when -this- was going to happen. It had just seemed
like a good idea at the time, a good way to get away from the institute
for a while and for some reason a trip overseas had seemed even better.
Then had come the television reports asking for superguys who could
spare some time to help out with a crisis of some kind... some bother at
Aurora needed sorting out and heroes might come in handy when the
accounting came. At the time it had seemed like the least he could do,
not that he was entirely sure he -qualified- for the title. Now, as he
dodged a rather surprised young woman (Tall girl, very tall. Ah, Karen?
Something like that... one of the locals, he dimly remembered earlier
from trying to chat her up) who had been knocked square back towards
him, the Seer both blessed his powers which gave him sight beyond sight
while cursing them for not having SHOWN HIM THAT HE SHOULD HAVE STAYED
HOME!
    A hand fell on the Seer's shoulder and had the man any judo training,
the person behind would have gone flying over a shoulder.
    "Um, why exactly are you tugging on my hand?" asked the hand's owner,
sounding at once piqued and amused.
    "Ah, well on that," replied the Seer, releasing his hand-hold. "You
see, it's... look, you surprised me, all right? I'm not used to that."
    "Right," said the interloper, dancing around to where the Seer could
see her. She was a short, dark-haired woman wearing a flattering
body-stocking and the sort of shinobi-style facemask that immediately
called to mind images of an anime convention. Mmmm, thought the Seer.
Hadn't she been part of that Rhythm Masters band that had been
entertaining the troops the past few nights? "Look, it's not like I'm
going to be able to do much here alone, where everyone's at least this
tall to get on the rides. So I need you, right now."
    "Er," replied the Seer. "You have to understand, I'm flattered, but
is this really the time or the place--"
    "Not like that, loverboy," replied the woman with a sigh, shaking her
head. "I've noticed you doing two things out here: dodging and looking
horrified when someone -else- is going to get hit."
    "It's a gift."
    "Good, because I think we can use it."
    "Ah. Good, er, what?"
    "We're staying back here, since we squish easily," replied the woman,
as she held up a communicator. "Everyone's got an emergency
communicator, right?"
    "Er, yes," replied the Seer, remembering that he'd left it in his
pocket and not bothered to put it on when the fighting had begin. Giving
the woman a weak smile, he pulled out his own communicator, dangling it
between two fingers.
    "Dollars to doughnuts, not -everyone- here forget theirs in their
pockets," said the woman, switching on her device. "En Sonique, by the
way... stupid thing... "
    "Now see here..."
    "No, this thing. Just once I wish people would pick a standard
and--aha! I knew this thing had to have some LOS functions buried
somewhere..." She glanced up at the Seer. "I think we can give the folks
on the battlefield a helping hand. And if we're really lucky, enough
advanced warning that they're not going to get splatted all over the
landscape."
    "I'm all for that! But how?"
    "Body language, communications, and nerves of... three triple lattes
a day," replied EnSonique, quirking a grin beneath her mask. "We--"
    The Seer's head whipped towards a M.E.C.H.A.n robot and his eyes
widened in horror. The Rhythm Master's hand spun the comset's dial,
guided by instinct and just a little bit of luck.
    "LEFT, KID, LEFT!" she shouted into the comset, which was aimed in
the robot's general direction. There was no time to explain the order;
she just had to hope the kid was willing to listen to a friendly voice
in his hour of need. And fortunately, he was. The mecha dodged out of
the way just as Gladiator hurled a boulder towards it, barely skirting
what would otherwise have been a crippling attack.
    "...oh," replied the Seer, feeling his heart rate starting to drop
back down to something approaching normal again. "That... could work."
    "Y'think?"

***

    "A being named the Onyx Queen was threatening your world with
invasion," said Jaqueline, shaking her head. Peterson's only response to
the narrative was a groan of pain. "This planet seems to attract such...
grotesque things, doesn't it? But we were very nearly attacked in your
stead. Your world and ours -are- so close together; I'm surprised more
of your -- ah allow me to succumb to being trite for a moment and call
them enemies -- don't attack our universe, mistaking it for yours. There
were indications that we would be invaded; magi skilled in foretelling
the future and divining the present gave us the warning that we would
need. Fortunately for us the mistake was quickly corrected and though we
were on high alert for several days, nothing came of it as your world
was once more rightly targetted. Nothing save the realisation that our
air raid drills and gas mask distribution systems were woefully
inadequite... oh yes, and the sudden awakening we had to the worlds
outside of ourselves. *
    "We needed to know more about our neighbours, and it certainly made
sense to peek in on the ones with whom we had almost been confused. We
hoped that we might encounter another world like ours and offer the hand
of friendship. We had hoped that we would find kindred spirits with whom
we could move forward."
    Jaqueline paused and looked at Peterson. It struck the trooper that
she looked as sad as Lazarus after he rose from his tomb. Peterson
dearly hoped that the surge of sympathy he felt wasn't the onset of
Stockholm Syndrome. But the pains of his legs reminded him that he had
very little to worry about in that regard.
    "Instead we found madness," finished Jaqueline, her eyes turning
diamond-hard again. "We found a world divided against itself, with
groups of barbarians clumping together in more or less horizontal power
structures for greater strength. There was no attempt to care for those
underneath because..." Jaqueline's mouth worked for a moment to
articulate what she was thinking. She turned on Peterson, suddenly
looking as if it was all she could do not to begin clawing his eyes out.
"Because there -was- no one underneath! Dear Elvis, you hadn't a single
downline! No upline! Nothing but anarchy and madness and even your
groupings were insane! I--"
    Jaqueline took a deep breath to calm herself, though her open
contempt never vanished. She turned the full force of that contempt on
Peterson. "I couldn't believe the first report I read. You were existing
in some sort of... of reversal of order. That's how your world came to
be known to us: you were the Order-Reversed Altiverse, and we were
preparing to be quit of you forever. Perhaps 002 would have yielded
better results. We were about to find out when we discovered two more
things in short order. Two things that struck us nearly dumb with
terror."

* (This little mistake can be found in Super Seven #22/23)

***

    Al Jones roared along the battlefield, circling the melee. It wasn't
easy to get close to Gladiator, not that anyone would particularly
-want- to. He watched as Mighty Guy, who had recovered from his earlier
backhand, charged towards Gladiator alongside Mighty Dog. The demon
warrior's response was a massive haymaker that sent both skittering
towards the skies. Yup, the pride and wrath in the air were high enough
that the guy was getting strong enough to do that sort of thing
-casually-.
    Then Gladiator dodged back, as Spandex Babe took a swing at him, her
approach covered by energy blasts from both HotFlash and a woman named
Tina, whom he'd met briefly while searching for beers over in the
Sentries encampment. Al was sure the lady of spandex was about to be
cold-cocked, just like the Mighty Duo. Only... she wasn't.
    Gladiator dodged. -That- was unusual; though Al hadn't been watching
too closely, he was pretty sure that Gladiator had been just soaking up
attacks until that moment. Even more strange, the demon reached up and
plucked Space Moose from the air, hurling the startled hero towards
Spandex Babe to knock her away from himself.
    What the Hell(tm), thought Al? He'd take a double-hit from two of the
strongest superguys on Earth, but he wouldn't--
    Spandex Babe. The Industrial Revolution. Al hadn't been asleep in
Hell(tm) when -that- had happened. He'd even been around to catch
coverage from the trial.
    Al had a pretty good idea that the girl was feeling a -ton- of remose
for what she'd done.
    Remorse. That was -it-! All major benefits had their drawbacks. Just
as Gladiator had a way to get stronger, he also had something that would
make him weaker!
    Gunning his cycle, Al spotted someone yelling orders into a comset.
That looked like a good place to get information out to the troops.
Given that Al's side was facing one of Hell(tm)'s superweapons and they
were currently getting their clocks cleaned, Al didn't have too much
trouble mustering up a little stomach acid.
    With a mighty BRRAAAP!, Al vanished.

***

    "Yeah?" Peterson groaned, looking up at Jaqueline. He wondered how
much longer he could hold onto his consciousness. He wanted to end this
now. But even if he was able, Peterson knew that he had to gather more
intel if for no other reason than because there was another alitverse
out there that had a major mad-on for his. He needed to know what was
going on; and then he had the harder job of surviving long enough to get
the intelligence back to someone who could use it. Only -then- would he
be permitted the blessed, blessed luxury of death, if only to get away
from this damned pain! "What, you discovered we have Sanrio? Trust me,
we're not happy about that either."
    "No." Jaqueline paused. "Well yes, that did fill us with immense
horror, but alone it wouldn't have been enough to tip the scales. First,
we discovered that you were already reasonably well versed in the art of
extra-universal voyaging. We'd only just discovered the technique by
analyzing the residue of the gates which -almost- materialized in our
altiverse."
    "How could you analyze gates that only almost materialized?"
    "Our precogs are -very- good. Also, the attempt to open a gate is in
itself an event on the quantumly absurd level. That leaves disturbances
that can be analyzed even if the actual endpoint never opens."
    "Ah," sighed Peterson. "Science stuff."
    "Yes," replied Jaqueline, dryly. "So it was not outside the realm of
possibility that your world would pay us a visit. We began some very...
minor incursions into your world at this point, merely to gather
intelligence. Your fledgeling Aurora was very much like our Boreallean
concern, so we began there with you and yours. Given your utter lack of
organization and the not-so charming naivety it lent you, we soon
discovered that impersonating key people was not so difficult as we had
imagined. You were very helpful to us, you know. Aurora's
information-gathering capabilities are -quite- impressive. It would have
been a shame to not avail ourselves of them and it would have been a
shame to have not discovered that which we most needed to know."
    "Which was? C'mon here, lady. I'm not sure how much awake I have left
in me. Pain and me, we fight a lot. I usually lose."
    "Mmm, I'd imagine," Jaqueline shrugged again, then moved to perch
herself on the edge of a console. "You do seem like the sort who might
pick a brawl for fun. Like I said, barbarians. But, we did discover that
not only had others of your kind... superguys, as you so quaintly named
them... visited other worlds, they had inflicted their insanity
elsewhere."
    "What? I'm sorry, but -what-? You've lost me, sister."
    "Too complicated? No longer trying to pretend to intellect?"
Jaqueline smirked. "Your superguys felt compelled to 'fix' things,
Mister Peterson. Where they found what they called tyranny, they brought
what they thought of as 'freedom'. Injustice, slavery, you have many
names for what you fear, and you paint every one of those phobias with
the same brush.
    "My world exists in a system of order, Mister Peterson. Each and
every one of us has his or her place. We have those below us and we care
for them. Their well being is our responsibility. We have those above
us. They care for us and give us our direction. We rise and fall
according to our merits and needs. No one is ever in a place that they
cannot handle. There are occasionally dissents against this, and there
are laws against such dissent, much as you have laws against that which
you deem to be crimes.
    "How long before your Awesome Force came to our world, found a prison
and decided that since we were rehabilitating dissadents, we were a
world of ruthless dictators, Mister Peterson? How long before your Hero
Patrol took another jaunt through the universes and decided to 'fix'
things? How long before -Aurora- discovered us and mobilized the forces
on which it could call against us? How long, Peterson? How LONG?"
    "I don't know," gasped Peterson, fighting against the pain. "I don't
KNOW, and I don't even know if we'd have done something like that! If
you had a legitimate system of government like that, we wouldn't have
attacked you!"
    "Maybe. -Maybe- you wouldn't. But as I said, mister Peterson, you
have -no- order. You are each and -every- one individuals. If -Aurora-
didn't, someone else would. There would be no one person to give the
order to attack; but there would also be no one person to give the order
to stay your hands."
    "So you decided we had to go."
    "No. I did not."
    "It came from higher up, yeah?"
    "No. Not in the sense that you mean. I have exactly one upline,
Mister Peterson. His power is absolute and his rule benevolent. We call
him the Pinnacle, when we name him at all."
    "He's..." Peterson met Jaqueline's eyes. "He's your Superguy, isn't
he."
    Jaqueline nodded. "That parallel does exist. But he did not give the
order to have you 'go', Mister Peterson. You needed to understand. Your
universe does not seem to allow you to understand order. There's some
sort of misrule about it that keeps each and every one of you questing
for 'freedom'."
    "So then..."
    "He reasoned that even if your universe made you as children
deranged, we could still perhaps impose a balance that would render you
safer. Perhaps we could even teach you to care for those underneath you.
He granted you his mercy, Mister Peterson and this is a gift you should
not spurn so lightly. He could have ordered your annihilation.
Truthfully, I was quite ready to follow that order should he have given
it."
    "You invaded. More. You started to infiltrate."
    "Yes. We were nearly ready to make our move six years ago."
    "Then why -didn't- you?"
    "Because," replied Jaqueline, her voice betraying both fire and pain.
"I had married a criminal."

***

    The Seer blinked before reaching out to yank EnSonique back a step.
Al and bike appeared exactly where the sound tech had been standing just
a moment ago.
    "Sorry!" yelled Al, knocking down his kickstand and jumping off the
bike.
    "Cripes!" yelled the woman, catching her breath. "Give a girl some
warning next time!"
    "Not much time for pleasantries, miss," began Al, rushing through his
credentials so that he could get to the meat of his warning before the
battlefield was littered with, well, meat. "Al Jones, Son of Satan!"
    "Er, the Seer," replied the man in the purple tee-shirt, a little
taken aback by that one. "Londoner."
    "So you know just what the Styx is like," replied Al, shuddering
involuntarily as he thought of the Thames. "Ah, damn it, don't have time
for this! I know that guy we're fighting!"
    "Let me guess, he's not trying to murder us all," asked EnSonique,
glaring at the demon. "He's just misunderstood, Mister Satan."
    "No! No, trust me I want to see him kiss dirt as much as anyone does.
All I'm saying is that I know his weakness, and that's about the only
way we're taking him down. And that's Son of Satan."
    "Where's the six-six-six?"
    "Other pants. Can you get me a channel to everyone?"
    EnSonique sighed. Some days you just had to go with the flow no
matter how insane it got. "Most people, yep. Not everyone forgot to put
them on."
    The Seer patted his communicator. See? He was good...
    "Good. Right. Tell everyone this: he gets weaker when he fights
people who know remorse. He gets stronger when he's fighting people
who're wrathful or prideful. You see the problem here?"
    "Riiiight."
    "You're fighting a demon--"
    "Alleged demon."
    "--okay let me try this another way... if you don't get everyone
who's done some serious repenting in their lives into mano-e-mano range
of that guy, we're all going to be watering the grasses here."
    "You're either insane and believe this is true," began EnSonique. "Or
you're insane and this is true. Either way, we were screwed blue before,
so maybe this screws us a nicer shade instead." She hefted the comset,
then looked at the Seer. "Ready to earn a little overtime?"
    "...sure," gulped the Seer. "What am I doing?"
    "We need a diversion to slip people through. If we know where he's
going to be attacking next, we can tell the repentants when and where to
run."
    "I'm going to need a recharge," replied the Seer. "I--"
    Jumpstart, who had been slumped against agent Rae's car ever since
he'd been used to power a communications array for the ex-CAUTION agent,
began to rouse from his three-day long slumber. His powers had been
drained and used in ways that he'd never before imagined possible, and
the recovery had left him in agony. He had finally managed to rouse
himself and for the first time in a long time, his electrical powers
were restored to him--
    There was a sudden surge and his hard-won electricity flowed out of
the young superguy, arcing into a purple-shirted young man who stood
nearby. Jumpstart had just enough time to curse the man and all his
children before lapsing once more into unconciousness.
    "--think that'll do."

***

CONTINUED IN PART SEVEN

---
-Chris
frobozz at eyrie.org
http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz

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