SG: WCD #49 "Check Mate"

[Lawrence Brown]

S'thal hissed in annoyance, and absently worried at an edge of dead
molting skin that was being shed. He switched between the farseer and the
local scanners with increasing concern.  May the sandjaws be feasting on
their carcasses! He glowered at the screen, as if he could force a
response just by sheer anger. Why hadn't S'gbnss and S'klbrg reported back
as they are supposed to?  They were not the best they had, but they were
no idiots... well, truth spoken, they -were- idiots. But even idiots such
as they knew the proper way of things. Just a few time-slices more without
contact and then they would spend the month scrubbing the cleaning
tubes...

 ***
WEST COAST DEFENDERS #49: "Check Mate"
Costarring Aurora and the West Coast Defenders
By Lawrence Brown and Chris Angelini "No more chess metaphors, okay?"

***
H'ssah quietly thrummed as the crew hauled the sandjaw carcass aboard the
hoverbarge.  The platform shifted, but only just barely, as the prize was
hauled aboard.  The payloader was built for heavy cargo, and this hardly
was any work for the stabilizers.  The capture-net gun had worked
flawlessly.  He recalled with a father's fond pride that his son had
assayed a tough shot from extreme range and entangled the sandjaw with his
first attempt.  His eggling had barely hesitated as they drew near,
coiling and then launching himself from the safety of the platform to land
the killing strike with his blade, before ceremonially burying his fangs
into the prey. It had been a good day and a better hunt.  Nothing under
the blazing sky could spoil this moment for...
H'ssah's communicator chose that moment to disagree. He hissed
incredulously "S'thal, calling me again?" Opening his communicator, he
drew in a deep breath with which to properly hiss his rage, only to be cut
short by the pleading tone in S'thal's voice. "Please forgive me but as my
station requires I plead for assistance. I am calling a level 2 alert."

"Our scouts are overdue? That is a level 3."

"Forgive me for correcting you sir.  In the event of other factors I have
the choice and duty to call a level 2.  I think our sandwing has friends
lurking above.  I smell danger."

H'ssah pondered these words as his tail twitched with self-annoyance.  He
had been so wrapped up in his son's moment that he had allowed himself to
be careless.  "Time to go.  We will finish this ceremony at the base."  He
paused.  S'thal was no fool, and he had good instincts. Pressing the
transmit stud, he queried. "What of our warship?  Is it still off-planet?
Perhaps we should recall it to aid us."

The relief was palpable on the other end. "I have anticipated your request
and sent an initial transmission. It will be returning soon, but more than
likely the scouts will bring us word sooner and you can scold me for
making my molt go faster with false worry."

H'ssah hissed a quiet chuckle at the cultural joke. He was about to toss
one back at S'thal about becoming an egg-layer, when he heard a strangled
cry over the commlink, and the sounds of gunfire. The commlink flashed a
level one alert code, and went silent. "H'ssah, you are a fool! Get this
barge back as fast as it can go!"

"Forgive me commander, this payloader is not built for speed, but I will
do what I can to make it move faster."  The snake turned, his green and
brown scales glinting in the sun, and bent over the control console with
his tools, while another steered and tried to avoid eye-contact with the
agitated commander.

"Someone get the base to respond!"


***

    It was disappointing, thought Clark as he pressed his back against a
large metal crate and waited for his opportune moment. They'd traveled
halfway across the galaxy, encountered a truly alien species, come
right into the midst of their spaceport... and Clark -still- couldn't
shake the feeling that he and his troops were battling in the midst of
an oversized Sam's Club. Sure, the pallet lifters were built around
anti-gravitation principles... but they were still clearly pallet
lifters. And all right, given, the pallets were actually ferrous metal
boxes that were toted around via magnets on those lifters, but darn it,
any second now he expected a sales representative to ask if he and his
rowdy friends could please keep the noise down?
     The snakes' response to their attack had been satisfyingly less than
prompt; their initial charge had met with no opposition other than a
dockworker bravely springing out of his loader to confront them with
what appeared to be an extremely menacing lunchbox, as evinced by the
live rodentia that skittered from it when it was swung against
Spectrum's armor. Fortunately, the superguy had been a seasoned enough
campaigner to recognize the complete lack of threat posed by the
foolishly brave snake and had merely brushed him aside rather than
tying him up into a knot and hurling him towards the back wall like a
horseshoe.
     This act of restraint had had an immediate and fortuitous benefit for
both snake and human: the other dock-snakes had seen that these
invaders weren't Hunnish enough to mercilessly cut down any living
things in their path regardless, and so pulled back to cower in
relative safety while they waited for the professional soldiers to
make their appearance...
     ...which they had in due course. Clark and his troops immediately
mounted a leapfrog approach through the warehouse, using the sturdy
metallic crates as cover. Neither serpent nor mammal tried using
explosives of any kind in the engagement, both likely out of mutual
respect for the non-combatants scattered through the killing floor.
     "Spectrum," called Clark over the commo net. "You ready? I think we
can force an opening towards the elevator shaft."
     "You sure that's an elevator shaft?" asked the hero, frowning. "What
if it's the trash chute?"
     "Then we'll discover some very interesting smells, princess -- On three?"
     "On three." The superguy paused for a moment. "Does something about
this fight bother you?"
     "You feel it too?"
     "Yeah. I'm not sure I can put my finger on it, but..."
     "The tempo of the battle's wrong. Compared to what we went through
on the Lenny Bruce."
     "Yeah... and something else... "
     "We'll debate it after. Three, two, one, company fire!"
     Two squads slipped from behind their cover to open up on the snakes
who were defending their port. Making good use of this, Foxy grinned
and kick-started her hoverboard.
     "HANG TEEEEEEN!" she cried, sending both herself and board in a
ramming charge towards the elevator, Spectrum following close behind
as an escort. Three dockworkers blinked and froze in shock as she
approached, only to be bowled over in the 'toon's wake.
     "Steeeerike!" yelled Foxy, pulling the board to a stop with a tight
banked turn, as she slapped the elevator button. Against all hope, the
conveyance's oversized doors opened wide.
     "We're good!" yelled Spectrum over the commo-net. Immediately, squad
one ceased their suppressive fire and made a run for the elevator,
covered by their squad-mates. Upon reaching their goal, they whirled
and provided what cover they could while team two raced for the
shelter of the lift. TDSM tossed a crate to one side, and Foxy
scattered some caltrops she'd borrowed from the Nikon Ninja to one
side down an aisle, to slow the enemy's approach.
     "Thank Elvis," gasped Clark, as he and the rest of the assault force
crammed themselves into the loading lift.
     "Yeah," replied Spectrum, permitting himself a grin. "We made it."
     "Oh yeah, that too. But I was thinking... thank Elvis! We don't have
to CLIMB to the computer room!"

***

    Though the CSS Lenny Bruce had not yet seen combat in this engagement,
its bridge was no less busy than were the troops down below. While
Doctor Sloane busied himself investigating the biological data that
Clark's troops had provided courtesy of their captive snake, Sparks and
several other bridge crew-members were busy going over the Tornado
armor's continually updating telemetry. They used it to build upon what
the Lenny Bruce's sensors -- actively scanning now that the proverbial
cat was out of the proverbial bag -- were telling them about Snake
Mountain.
    "I think we've got a lead on what these nagas use for trunk lines,"
muttered Sparks, shaking his head. "Yeah. It's tricky, but I think I've
got... Clark! Sparks to Clark!"
    "Go ahead, Sparks! We've been waiting for the voice of the angels to
speak to us."
    "Main computer -should- be two floors above you, Ms D'Arc! If it isn't,
try four below!"
    "Which is the better hit? We might only get one shot at this before we
have to enact our exit strategy."
    "Two up. Best chance. Four down is probably a bathroom."
    "But... how a bathroom could be confused with... but... never mind.
We're here." Clark reached out and hit a cluster of buttons, hoping that
one of them would be an emergency stop. His luck was with him that day;
with nothing more dramatic than the increased hum of magnetics, the car
came to a halt.
   Spectrum reached out to begin prying the doors, not wanting to waste
time searching for the appropriate button. Foxy tensed on her board,
while the troops formed up with weapons at the ready to provide covering
fire.
   Fifteen guards boiled into the hall, slithering towards the elevator.
Clark bit back a curse.
   "CHARGE!"

***

   Victoria Queen lay back on her bunk, staring at the ceiling, wishing
that one could un-see something once it had been seen.
   It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. She'd come through Hell(tm) on
Earth without manifesting so much as a cold, yet still wound up having
'caught' powers from the plague. But mercy of mercies, the mental
abilities that threatened to manifest were quite content to remain
quiescent as long as she ignored them. Oh certainly, it had been... fun
to be a little bit telepathic. She'd won her share of poker games that
way, and it was nice to know immediately which of her dates were worth
keeping and which needed to be let down easily on the first night out.
    But Victoria had not gone a step further in training her abilities,
much less letting on that she so much as had them. There was no law
against keeping your superguyism quiet, and Queen just knew that the
moment the penny dropped, she'd wind up being tapped for superguyish
duties. Oh sure, at first it would be something simple... like bringing
a comatose patient back to reality. And that would be fine. It would be
good, and useful and right up her alley. But she knew how these things
worked.
    First, it would be mental healing. Then there would be an emergency
that would require her to take a more active role. And before she knew
it,Victoria would be on the front lines.
   Queen -wasn't- a coward. The fact that she'd volunteered -- Heck(sm)
jumped at the chance -- to travel light-years past the warm light of Sol
proved that quite handily, thank you very much! But... she just had no
interest in being out on the front lines where superguys tended to find
themselves. To be honest with herself, Victoria -was- scared of being in
the van. Sure, she ran the risk of being killed outright should a
missile hit the hull just outside her cabin, but there was nothing she
could do about that... and so it could be relegated to the back burner
of her mind to do her no harm.
   But on the forefront of battle, well, that was a different story. There,
she'd have others depending upon her in battle. Battle -wasn't- where
Victoria felt that she -belonged-. Her place was in the sickbay, in her
place of comfort, healing and restoring those who came to her. There and
nowhere else.
   Damn it! How had they even known about her abilities? Had someone spied
on her? Had she let it slip somehow? Did someone... oh dear Elvis, did
someone read her diary? And did that mean her crush on Spectrum was
public knowledge now? Oh damn, oh damn...
   No. Focus, Victory, she told herself. It didn't matter how Tonk had
figured out her secret; in fact, it didn't even matter that she had
taken that first step down the slippery slope to becoming a superguy by
agreeing to work with Foxy. No, that wasn't it at all...
   ...it was what she'd seen. What she'd glimpsed in the Cartoon's mind...
   Queen grabbed her pillow and hugged it tightly, closing her eyes
tightly, while wishing again that one could un-see something once it had
been seen...

***

TDSM and Spectrum scampered around the room, shouting observations to each
other. The control room was secured, at least for the moment. Clarks men
had the doors covered, and had picked off any attackers that had taken
what passed as stairs for non-bipeds.  More like corkscrewing slopes that,
had Foxy been consulted, would make really fun slides.

"Anything?" Spectrum shouted, looking away from his work to check the
arachnid.

"Ssssomething... no... just ssssnake porn on thisss worksssstation."

"What?"

"You don't want to know. Jussst be glad you only have two eyessss."

Spectrum followed the lead of the commands being whispered into his
headset by other techs.  Then he paused and pulled up the keyboard,
finding a scrawled note.  "Light-years from home and some things never
change.  Hi-ho team!"  He waved the note at TDSM who set to tapping into
the system.

***

    Tonk leaned forward in her chair as she noted her pilot tapping
furiously at his keyboard.  "Sparks, what's the latest?"

    "WE HAVE DATA!" Sparks exulted. "We're in and we are pulling it all out
as fast as we can."

    "Good, because I think the snakes just managed to call for backup,"
interjected a tech from his post across the bridge.  "It's a low power
signal, but I think it got through. Sorry Captain, I was trying to damp
down anything out of the tower, and this was from another sector. I
think we're being hailed. Orders?"

***

"I think thatssss all we can get."  Trapdoor Spider Man hissed. The
display blanked and another more hostile screen flashed.  "I think they
cut the main data feed."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," Clark muttered.  "Let's hope we got
enough to keep the intel guys happy."

"I'm more of an AMD guy myself..." Spectrum snorted.

"Huh."

"Geek Joke." Spectrum interrupted. "Clark, I think we need to boogie out
of here, and not the way we came in." He pointed at 4 squadmates on the
floor by the entrance.  "They gonna make it?"

Clark grimaced. "We lost two. The other two are wounded but they'll be
okay if we can get them back to the dropship."

Spectrum looked at the soldiers, then at the door.  "TDSM, I need your
help.  Foxy, help Clark's men strip the armor off these guys. Can you help
them feel better?"

Foxy pouted and ran her fingers through her hair. "This is hardly the time
for..."

"With your mental ability, not your um..."  Spectrum blushed.

"Charms," quipped Clark, as he knelt down to begin work on one of his
wounded men.

Foxy seemed to shrink in, frightened and worried about what Spectrum was
implying.  The memory of her encounter with Victoria was still fresh in
her mind. "I-- I dunno sailor, I might mess them up like I did with y--",
she clamped her hand over her mouth as her eyes grew wide.

Spectrum blinked, suddenly distracted by what Foxy had almost said.
Something about it made him feel very wary all of a sudden. "What?!"

"Nothing."

"What the heck(sm) do you mean!?"  He demanded, staring at Foxy in
confusion and a strange anger that felt alien to him.

Suddenly a new alarm sounded with what looked like flashing indicators
near the elevator and exit, with a display by the door, which despite its
alien language, was obviously some sort of countdown.

"Damn!" Spectrum shouted as the immediacy of the situation reordered his
mental priority list. "Someone is playing smart. Clark, that's either a
self-destruct alert, or more likely a fire-suppressant evacuation alarm.
Either way, this room is going to be unpleasant really fast."

"Right!" Clark quickly finished his work and began to ready his team as
Spectrum set up the newly emptied armor behind an overturned desk he had
slid into the elevator. The hero quickly arranged the suits into various
-- and realistic, if he did say so himself -- combat poses which TDSM
quick-glued into place.

Spectrum slapped the close button as Clark tossed in a smoke grenade for
effect. The superguy grinned, calling out, "Make a big hole, Sammy!"

TDSM shot an angry glance at his teammate before launching himself at the
far wall, his talons tearing it apart in short order. The hideous creature
paused to gently pick up an injured soldier and then scuttled rapidly
through the hole to the outside. The spider-creature was followed
immediately by the team, who rappelled down as fast as they safely could.

Clark spared a glance across the desert, spying something approaching in
the distance.  Focusing his active sensors on the contact, Clark saw a
fresh squad of snakes making good time towards them aboard some sort of
flatbed transport. And was that a pet ant-lion bringing up the front?
Whatever it was, it wasn't moving, but still...

"Clark!" Sparks voice cut in. "You have company coming! Get back to the
dropship aysap and get outta there!"

"Sir!" One of the troopers -- a fairly bright tinkerer who'd more than
once proved himself handy with battlefield jerry-rigs -- gestured towards
two of the vehicles down below, "you think we could hotwire those two
payloaders?"

"Beats trying to jog home." Spectrum replied.

"I wisssh Parker could have brought hisss Dord." TDSM sighed. "Looksss
like our dummy targetsss in the elevator bought usss sssome time."

"Okay," Clark nodded, as a couple combat snakes emerged from the
warehouse.  "Get to it.  Squad One, Spectrum and Foxy are with you.  Give
us cover fire while the rest of us get those two things running. I'll take
Squad 2, TDSM and the injured on mine.  Hurry people, we have hostiles on
the ground and topside bearing down on us."

***

It had been the work of moments to boost the payloaders. Neither one had
had much in the way of security and even their ignition system had been
toggleable with a simple button-push. Clark had filed this information
away for later analysis, finding it mildly at odds with the picture of the
Nintan that he'd encountered thus far.

Spectrum leaned towards Foxy, keeping a weather eye on the horizon as he
whispered to her. "What were you talking about back there?"

Foxy glanced away, her body language all but screaming for Spectrum to
drop it. The superguy felt his hackles rise at being shut out by the woman
he loved and found himself giving in to his anger.

"Dammit, Foxy, talk to me!  I need some answers!"

"You want answers?" She bristled, gazing back at Spectrum, her glare a
mixture of anger and sorrow.

"I think I deserve them from my wife!  Tell me the truth!"

Foxy bit back a snide retort, and then took a breath to compose herself. "Then
I hope you can handle it, sailor. Remember when you rescued me and we were
rushing to get our minds transferred back into our bodies?  All I could
think about was how angry I was at you for dumping me, for never looking
for me..."

"Hey, I looked for you."

"S-yeah, right.  You must have looked really hard, 'cuz next thing I knew
you had completely disappeared."

Spectrum rubbed the back of his helmet in consternation.  "I was flung
through time and space.  I had a bit of a hard time getting back!  But as
soon as I got a lead on where you were, I-we came a'runnin' and found you.
  What did you do?"

"You nearly didn't make it back. The machines were burning up as you came
to, and I saw you laying there and all I wanted was to spend the rest of
my life with you. I wished that there was some way we could just be a
couple and ..."

Spectrum paled.  "You. Oh my god. You did it, didn't you."

The hoverbarge cleared the rise. In the distance the first hoverbarge was
nearing the area the dropship was parked. Spectrum hardly moved as a
energy blast caught his shoulder and knocked him on his back.  Foxy
whirled and saw another hoverbarge tacking in on an intercept course from
the side.  Other squad mates aboard the barge saw the snakes too, and
began to fire.  Foxy glanced down at the slightly stunned Spectrum, and
growled, "Look after him guys, I'm going to buy us some time.  BANZAI!!"
And with that she leapt atop her board and blasted towards the enemy
snakes.

Spectrum staggered to his feet, shouting, "No! FOXY! COME BACK!  DAMMIT -I
LOVE YOU-!"

***

H'ssah cocked his head.  What was this?  One of the invaders was making a
rapid albeit erratic course towards his platform.  He glanced ahead and
noted what appeared to be some sort of transport.  Curse all the luck.
These raiders would escape with only minor losses and we would be left
with no answers to explain for this unwarranted attack.  "Perhapsss this
one sshall be our way of getting answersss, or at least a token for which
we can exchange our missing scouts." Gunfire from the invaders singed his
craft, and his son huddled warily behind him.  "We need to turn this to
our own advantage!"

His son tapped him on the back.  "Father. The net gun. I can make the shot."

H'ssah took only a moment to comprehend and then admire his son's
stratagem.  "You have only one shot.  Can you do it?"

"I can and will father, for the glory of the Nintan race."

Foxy screamed like a banshee, firing a string of curses and energy blasts
from her pistol as she pushed the hoverboard even faster.  Perhaps
Spectrum will someday forgive me after I am gone.  I don't need nobody
better off alone, but it would have been nice to...  She let the emotion
flood from her soul.

Foxy and her board were suddenly entangled.  Tumbling out of control she
bounced across the sand, as the net was hauled back in.

"I did it father!" H'ssah's son hissed with glee. Suddenly the occupants
of the mobile platform felt waves of fear, dread, and confusion.
"Helmsman, come about and we shall flee to safety. Perhaps now we shall
get some answers."

"NO!!!" Spectrum screamed.  "FOXY!"  "Turn around! We have to save her!"

"Sorry sir, we have to get to the ship and get out of here immediately!"

Switching channels, Spectrum shouted at Clark.  "Man down!  Foxy's been
taken captive! I'm going after her!"

Clark shouted back, "No! Captain's orders, we have to get out of here now
or we're all dead! I know this sucks, but the situation is bigger than
just her!"

Spectrum lunged. Two troopers grabbed his arms. "Guys just stop.  There's
nothing you can do or say from here, okay? I'm not leaving without her."
He feinted, then dive-rolled off the side, tumbling down a sand dune before
running for the snakes. "Clark! Get the team outta here."

Clark sighed and quickly considered his options. He made a curt gesture,
nodding for the rest of the West Coasters to pile into the dropship. TDSM
glared at Clark. "I'm not your property!"

Parker grabbed his shoulder.  "TDSM! He's doing what Spectrum asked him to
do! If we all get slagged trying to save him what good's their sacrifice!?
  C'mon man, the whole planet's counting on us!"

"Besides," replied Clark, his tone weary. "If you don't get the Hell(tm)
inside and shut the Hell(tm) up in three seconds I'm going to shoot you
where you stand and let Sloan worry about getting you back to combat
readiness. Do you feel me?"

With a last angry glare, TDSM turned from Clark and tugged his arm away
from Parker. Hissing under his breath, he stormed into the waiting
dropship.

***

The crew shivered as Tonk let loose with a string of expletives that would
strip paint from the bulkhead.

H'ssah blinked as he watched an armored soldier tumble off the fleeing
platform, and start charging towards the snakes.  What is this?  Why would
only one come after them if their captive was important, and if not, why
sacrifice another raider?  He did not understand where his growing unease
came from.  "Helm.  Get away from that one.  Shoot him! Head for the
canyon!"


Here I go, on my own.  Spectrum thought. The angry shouts of Clark, Tonk,
Sloan, Sparks, and others buzzed in his ears like a smashed wasp nest and
he shuddered for an instant at the claustrophobia that it induced. I don't
need nobody, better off alone. He began running, straight for the
hoverbarge, and his love.

"Captain, he's turned off his comlink." groaned Sparks.

"Vitals are elevated," Doc Sloan muttered.

"How fast can he run in that armor?" Tonk asked.

"Pretty fast, but it's not built for that." A tech replied.

"He's gaining on the sled, but...the cliff..." British Airwave gasped as
he turned grey.

"He's not gonna make it, is he?" Tonk muttered.

Spectrum pushed the armor as hard as he could.  Shots from the snake's
weapons blew off chunks, but he ignored the alarms and pushed the systems
past redline. "I'm not letting you go, Foxy.  I'm stronger than they
realize." Shunting all power to the armor's legs, he coughed as smoke
started to seep into the suit.

"Captain, it's not possible. The armor can't go that fast."

"Vitals are spiking Captain, his metabolism is going into overdrive."

"SLOAN! What's happening?"

"This is incredible Captain!" Sloan marveled at the telemetry.

"Not Spectrum, Sloan!  British Airwave just collapsed!"

"Oh no! Not now! Get a crash cart in here and get him to sickbay!"

H'ssah gaped at the approaching soldier. Nothing seemed to deter him.
What sort of warrior charges blindly into the fangs of the enemy?
One who has nothing to lose, he glanced at the struggling captive, or
perhaps one that has everything to lose.

Fifty yards, forty, thirty. Suddenly Spectrum saw the canyon ahead, and
realized it was now or never.  His body felt like it was on fire as he
panted frantically. He was basically down to the ManCo PoWerArmor, his
Aurorean battlesuit blown away from the damage he was taking. 10 yards, now
just an arms breadth away from the sled. Too Late.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The abyss yawned below him, as he charged headlong over the cliff's edge,
into the dark mists below.

***

IS IT STILL A CLIFFHANGER IF YOU GO OVER THE CLIFF?
CAN OUR HEROES ESCAPE?
WILL SPECTRUM SURVIVE?
WILL FOXY BE RESCUED?
IS THIS THE END OF BRITISH AIRWAVE?
AND WHAT IS VICTORIA'S SECRET?
TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THE 50TH ISSUE SPECIAL!
SUPERGUY!