SG: Subtler Than Light #1 (1/2) - A Crash Course

[Gary W. Olson]

Something was wrong in the Root. Cendra Seconds could feel it, though the
bronze-gold of the walls never wavered, and there were enough lumen-orbs
about the chamber that even a ninja mouse couldn't have found a covering
shadow. She scanned from the glyph-engraved walls five feet in front of her
to the screen-laden wall twelve feet at her back, and found nothing to
explain the sensation. But it remained.

Something was wrong in the engine chamber of the _Subtler Than Light,_ and
it was getting wronger by the second.

"Anything?" called a voice. "Is it the ninja mice again?"

"No, Chi," Cendra replied, sparing a glance at the dark-haired,
pale-skinned, pink-fuzzy-robe-wearing woman looking in from the door to her
right. "Nor do I see evidence of marauding weasels or rude Frenchmen this
time. Any other guesses?"

China Moroboshi consulted her tablet. "I got told the other night that we
were going to be inundated by squid. Any of them down there?"

Cendra shook her head. "No, no squid. Didn't you get that reading from that
cultist you're dating?"

"She doesn't do readings," China said. "Only prophecies. The Squidaclysm is
coming, by the way."

"That'll liven things up."

Cendra looked around again. Somehow, now, the foreboding sensation was
distant. The walls were just walls--albeit ones made of nectarisite, the
superlight, superbaffling, alternate-dimensional metallic element that
formed almost all of the ship--and the oval room that had come to be called
the Root felt empty save for her, China, and the pipes leading to the
dormant engines.

"Are you sure about what the message said?" Cendra asked.

"Well, we were kind of busy, between the snogging and trying to come up
with a hook for 'Tekeli-li-la-la Means I Loathe You,' but..."

"The warning that came in five or so minutes ago."

"Oh... right," said China. "There wasn't a lot to remember. 'They know
about the Hidden Heart. Seal it away before.'"

Cendra almost asked 'before what' again, but knew it was futile. The
message had been cut off, that much was clear. It had arrived as a flash
across the main viewscreen on the bridge. Were it not for the background
logo that had accompanied it--a hand proffering a flower, a beer, a rather
dazed bird, and a small armored humanoid--its provenance would've been a
mystery.

Admittedly, it was still a mystery, but the image branding meant two
things. One, it was from someone in the Hunter Corps, or someone who wanted
them to believe that it was. Two, the Hunter Corps got pretty badly
ripped-off by whoever designed their logo.

Her gaze traveled to the floor. She didn't let it linger, or let it stay in
her thoughts for more than a second. She just had to know that it was
undisturbed...

The air shimmered above the patch of floor she had so fleetingly glanced
at. Finally, Cendra could see exactly what was wrong.

It was the six-and-a-half-foot-tall red-feathered utahraptor standing in
front of her, a glittering bronze-gold bust of Neil Degrasse Tyson in their
long-clawed hands.

"Oops," said the raptor. They gave Cendra a grin that was at once sheepish
and sharp-toothed.

"Hey!" China exclaimed. "Where the hell..."

Nobody was to find out where the hell, at least not in the short-term, as
that was when the monkeys attacked.

***

SUBTLER THAN LIGHT
Episode 1
[Hidden Hearts, Part One]
"A Crash Course in Ape Law"
by
Gary W. Olson,
who apparently just can't quit this

***

"Este, stay still! I'm setting up the shot!"

"I'm not in this," said Esteban Veracruz, as he squinted at the Pacific
ocean, lapping the beach not far away from where he walked. "You're
shooting your promos, Johnny, remember?"

"That was yesterday," Johnny Clark answered with a note of frustration. The
wiry, lightly-tanned twenty-one-old darted past Esteban so that he could
walk backwards in front of him, and Esteban did his best not to look at the
rig-embedded camera he was aiming. "We're doing the show today! Come on!"

"I'm not really in the mood to do a web series interview..."

"I need this to get 'Lair Flippers' off the ground! Venice Beach's number
one superguy, looking for abandoned supervillain lairs for me and my crew
(when I get one) to convert into warehouses. Or hip coffee houses that look
like parts of warehouses." Johnny paused, then added, "Do you think you can
thwart a villain around here? It'd makes a great lead-in for the title
sequence."

Esteban sighed, then closed his eyes and summoned the 360. Anyone watching
him, he knew, would see his bronze-gold headband briefly shimmer as he
mentally tapped into it. Indeed, when the panoramic view appeared in his
mind's eye, he saw small groups of tourists point at him and raise their
phones, undoubtedly running the M00slr app to record the moment.

Venice Beach was no more crowded than usual for an early summer morning,
which is to say it was packed. The loud and colorful shops that lined the
avenue running parallel to the beach had customers flowing in and out.
Muscular men on the beach to his left flexed to impress the
tiny-swimsuit-wearing women walking by, or each other, or both.
Skateboarders flew up makeshift ramps and skidded along railings before
hitting the sidewalks, narrowly missing the vagrant mages arguing with the
newts in their hands. A two-headed, white-bearded, trenchcoat-wearing man
on rollerblades zipped past, rambling about what mad science had done to
him--though, aside from the extra head, all that was immediately evident
was that it had taken away his trenchcoat-fastening and
anything-else-wearing skills. The palm trees lining the center of the
avenue swayed in the morning sunlight.

"Sorry," said Esteban. "Not seeing any rogues to..."

<<Incoming,>> warned a boyish-sounding voice somewhere between his ears.

Half a second later, something landed on his head and grabbed his long
black hair on either side of his forehead. Legs hooked under his chin as he
staggered.

"Got you!" a cheerful voice announced.

"Aaaagh!" Esteban mock-cried out. "I've been caught by Wolf Girl!  Curses!"
He paused. "But I know her weakness! She's... ticklish!"

He reached up and tickled the sides of his assailant. She squealed and then
pushed up, using his shoulders to launch into the air. Esteban switched
from the 360 to just his eyes as he stretched his arms out in front of him.
A second later, she landed.

"I got you!" Camila Veracruz exclaimed. "You didn't see me, even with your
headband on!"

Esteban grinned, then hefted his nine-year-old niece into the air. The
girl, whose red tank top and blue shorts clashed with her brown-furred
arms, legs, and face, giggled and waved to Johnny's camera. She landed in
Esteban's arms again, then swung around to his back.

"Can I be in this too?" she asked. "What are my lines?"

"No lines," a deeper voice to their right said. "Just don't let your uncle
walk into anything while he's on-camera this time."

"Miguel," said Esteban, as his brother stepped up next to him. "You're
up... early."

"I made daddy get up," said Camila. "He had an appointment."

"Job interview?" Esteban asked, before he could stop himself. He didn't
have to look at Miguel to feel his grimace.

"Book dealer," Miguel Veracruz answered, gesturing with a bag-carrying hand
at the storefront Esteban guessed he had emerged from. "Got a call last
night that Bonnie got in one of the books on my search list. Had to come in
to get it, though, otherwise... you know. Poof."

The sign above the book-laden display window read 'Bonnie's Books,' with
some art of a cartoon eyeball weightlifter hefting absurdly large books
attached to a long metal pole. 'Give your head a workout,' urged the print
beneath. Below that, in tinier print, was a notice that the store accepted
payments in a variety of cards and cryptocurrencies, pointedly excluding
PhootCoin. Below *that* was a rather lengthly rant about how people parking
in front of the store would either get towed or exploded. Its end was
obscured by the cars parked in front of the store.

"Besides," Miguel went on, "Cam goes back to Cendra today. Good timing, if
you want to call it that. You heading back to the ship? Hi, Johnny."

"Wolf Guy," said Johnny, as he aimed his camera at Miguel. "Joining his
beloved brother, El Guererro de Los Pantalones, on morning patrol, watching
for evildoers..."

"Not on patrol," Esteban interrupted. "Just coming back from breakfast. As
you can see..." He waved at his lean-but-muscular brown legs, which were
bare from his bronze-gold sandals on up to his black denim cutoffs,
bronze-gold belt, and his black 'Volcano Kings' t-shirt. "...a complete and
shocking lack of pantalones."

"Pretty sure everybody knows about the belt at this point," Miguel said.
"Like they know about me." He shook his head. "With all the cameras around
these days, and that damn app, I can't see how anyone manages a secret
identity anymore."

Camila jumped from Esteban's back to Miguel's. Esteban appraised Miguel as
much as he could without looking directly, and inwardly frowned at the
lines of exhaustion he saw beneath his older brother's eyes. The clothes on
his tall, brown, well-muscled body--a tight pair of cargo shorts and a
charmingly stained red t-shirt--looked randomly lifted from a bedroom
floor, and the five-o-clock shadow on his impressive jaw looked like it had
gone on to five the next day. His strength wasn't diminished--Camila stood
on his shoulders as he walked without causing them to dip in the
slightest--but Esteban could tell he hadn't slept much. Again.

Looking away, his eyes fixed on the bronze-gold structure a few blocks down
the avenue on the side of the shops. Its long, sweeping side glowed in the
morning light, nearly obscuring the bridge tower at the top and the masts
on either side. Several vendors clustered near the steps leading up to the
only visible street-facing entrance and waved pamphlets and
cheaply-packaged blu-rays at dazzled passerby, though the large guards in
bronze-gold camouflage shirts at the base prevented anyone from venturing
inside. Though it was early, pedestrians had to weave around the groups of
selfie-taking tourists already getting thick on the ground.

The _Subtler Than Light._ The flying battleship from another dimension that
had been made to crash in Venice Beach, California, in a spectacular fight
a decade-and-a-half ago. It hadn't flown since, though the visible damage
had been repaired, and though a great deal of effort and money had been put
into learning its secrets.

Esteban tried to remember how it had felt the first time he had stepped on
board, the day after the crash. There had been wonder and mystery in the
long, dark, bronze-gold corridors. His fifteen-year-old self wanted to stay
there forever, and learn everything it had to teach. Sixteen years
later--ten as one of the few permanent residents, the last six as the lead
on-site project manager--the sight of it made him want to turn around and
walk in any other direction.

It was still as wonderful and mysterious as ever, he told himself. The
memories of what had happened in those years and in those walls were what
dulled the luster. All the lies that had abruptly shattered in one fateful,
shouty, and melodramatic night.

The night his love and his best friend walked out of his life.

"Hey, Este," Johnny called, interrupting his introspection. "Miguel asked
you a question."

Esteban shook his head. "Lost in thought, bro, what is it?"

"Moon Moon was asking 'bout you," Miguel repeated. "Wants you to call him."

"Miguel..."

"He says you're being a bad boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Esteban exclaimed. "We went out once. Okay, twice,
because the giant monster invasion disrupted our dinner at Hal's..."

An explosion ripped the morning air. Bronze-gold pieces flew into the sky,
propelled by a fiery red cloud that expanded from behind the bridge of the
_Subtler Than Light._ The shockwave slammed through Esteban and everyone
else on the street.

"Debris!" Miguel exclaimed.

"Boom!" Camila squealed.

As his eyes lit on Johnny's still-raised camera, Esteban triggered the
transformation. He knew what the young man would capture: his bronze-gold
headband unraveling and descending over his beardless face past his chin,
the rococo-styled black lines on the metallic fabric making it look like a
luchador's mask. A tilt down would capture his belt expanding to
one-and-a-half-times the width of his waist, and then sheets of metal
descending to meet the metal rising from his sandals, which had morphed
into armored boots. Finally, a bronze-gold-masked man in armored
bronze-gold pants too big for him, looking around as if wondering who
turned out the lights.

But he wasn't wondering. It just took a moment to mentally switch over from
ordinary vision to the enhanced kind the mask provided.

*Lock on to the debris, Coco,* Esteban thought, as his armored feet left
the ground.

His field of vision expanded, as if he was zooming out of his own head.
There were a lot of small pieces in motion from the explosion, along with a
few large ones, moving slow as the mask manipulated and sped up his
perceptions. The largest was a piece of the _Subtler Than Light's_ main
deck, already coming down from the top of its trajectory, heading for a
group of stoned people in worn spandex and tattered capes.

Esteban raised one leg, aiming his boot as best he could.

*Now!*

Energy rippled through Los Pantalones, down the massive armored leg and out
from his boot. The blast struck the deck piece and sent it spinning out
over the ocean. At the same time, a dozen smaller repulsor blasts sprayed
from various places on the armor, deflecting the larger parts away from
those they would've landed on. Almost all landed well away from anyone,
thanks to Coco's precision targeting.

One missed piece the size of a Volvo plummeted toward the boardwalk.
Moments before it could skewer the two-headed rollerblading old man, Johnny
Clark zipped beneath it and caught it with his left hand. Though
nectarisite was light, it wasn't *that* light, and by all rights should
have taken Johnny's hand off as it crunched into the planks, sand, and
pedestrians. Instead, Johnny carried the massive piece with one hand onto
the empty sand, as if it was a styrofoam film prop, and let it safely drop.

The trenchcoat-wearing man Johnny saved stared at the massive bronze-gold
plate. Then he leaned forward so one of his heads could lick it.

"That was close," Esteban said aloud, after his time perception returned to
normal, grimly pushing through the fatigue-wave that was its consequence.
"Now..."

<<Incoming,>> Coco warned.

All at once, six speedo-clad, loud-Hawaiian-shirt-wearing,
Gilligan-style-hat-wearing howler monkeys blossomed out of ripples in the
air and landed on him. The impact spun him upside down, sending three of
them  hurtling away. Those three disappeared, only on instantaneously
reappear on his now skyward-pointing boots.

"Dammit!" Esteban snarled, as the three still clinging to his shoulders
tried to pry his mask off. Their claws dug into his skin, but still
couldn't get beneath the edge.  They howled in frustration and pressed
harder.

The black-furred creatures weren't large--the biggest was maybe
three-and-a-half feet tall--but they were quick and ferocious. Esteban
recognized them at once as Demon Monkeys, even though their stubby little
horns were hidden beneath their white hats. They were sentient, intelligent
howler monkeys from a world within the Earth no one knew existed until a
decade and a half ago. They were also teleporters... and mercenaries.

Who had paid them to attack the _Subtler Than Light?_

The monkeys on his legs repeatedly disappeared and reappeared, soon joining
their fellow monkeys in howls of anger. Esteban guessed they were trying to
use one of their favorite attacks: teleporting beneath his trowsers so they
could attack his legs directly. The nectarisite was thwarting them.

Despite his situation, Esteban grinned. Someone was getting thwarted, and
Johnny was missing it.

Then Johnny's camera hovered by, propelled by blades that had sprouted from
the rig it was embedded in, and Esteban realized this was not the case. He
gave the lens the finger, then ordered an omnidirectional repulsor wave.
The monkeys tumbled wildly away from him, along with the camera. Somehow,
their little hats stayed on.

This time, they didn't return.

"...zzzzksszzin, Esteban," China Moroboshi's voice crackled in Esteban's
mask-covered ears. "Mayday, Esteban. We're under attack!"

"Kinda noticed!" Esteban replied out loud, as he mentally ordered his mask
to transmit to the _Subtler Than Light_ on the frequency it was using.
"What the phoot phunk is going on now?"

"...hhzzzmmmmealing the hezzmmmzzzrrrrttt..."

"Say again, STL?" Miguel's voice asked, also on the same frequency. Esteban
looked down and saw his brother had a hand to the bluetooth device in his
ear. Camila stood on Miguel's shoulders, waving. Johnny was next to him,
looking around. Esteban wondered what he was trying to see that could be
more compelling than the demon monkeys that had come after him.

Then China's next words punched through the interference and gave Esteban
the second-worst chill he'd ever experienced.

"The Heart's been stolen."

"Aw, hell," Miguel answered. "STL..."

"...zzzzrrrrrmmmeezzzzzrrrr..."

A wave of demon monkeys erupted out of the hole in the _Subtler Than
Light's_ side. The sheer volume of disappearances and reappearances made
them impossible to track, even for his armor's systems. They were dressed
in variations of the garb Esteban's initial attackers wore, though some
were in bikinis rather than speedoes. A few wore trenchcoats and no
swimwear of any kind. All had Gilligan hats.

Esteban built up energy in his repulsors, even as he diverted some to his
other offensive systems. Gun turrets emerged from his thighs, though they
wobbled around trying to lock onto a target. Missile racks sprung from his
calves, though they had no better luck settling on anything to launch their
wares at.

"They're escaping!" Miguel called over their shared frequency.

<<Confirmed,>> Coco said. <<They're heading south, toward the 405.>>

*Did any of them have the Heart?*

There was a silent pause.

<<Unknown,>> Coco finally responded. <<No observation recorded on visual
media. Our other systems cannot perceive the Heart. That said, they seem to
be heading in a definite direction.>>

"Dammit."

"...zzzzrrzzzshrrrrlll..."

"I'm going after them!" Esteban called out, transmitting to his brother
below. "Get to the STL, make sure everyone's okay, then roll out after me!"

"Hey, Este!" Johnny called, audible just through the strength of his
yelling. "I'm coming too!"

"No you're not," Miguel corrected. "Get Cam someplace out of the way. Keep
her safe till me or Cendra sends the all-clear."

"But..."

"You're the only one here we can trust with her safety, Johnny," Esteban
said. "You've trained for this too, remember?"

"I barely passed Civilian Safety at the Academy!" Johnny yelled. "And
that's only because I was good at the story problems they gave us!"

"Johnny..." Miguel growled.

"Okay, okay!"

"Yaaay!" Camila yelled, jumping from her father's shoulders to Johnny's
head.

Esteban sent a command to his pants, and immediately shot in the direction
of the freeway. He had the tail of the monkey swarm in his sights, and was
determined not to let them get away.

If the Hidden Heart was taken... chaos would follow.

(Concluded in part two, following...)
--
Copyright (c) 2022 by Gary W. Olson. All Rights Reserved.
--
Gary W. Olson / https://www.garywolson.com
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