Shooting Stars 08: Chapter 2

Anne Friedland, code name: Network
Now

    I have to admit, I’m sort of proud of my microbugs.  Granted, I didn’t make them entirely on my own- in fact, there’s no way I could have manufactured them without Minnie’s help- but the idea and specifications were mine.

    A microbug acts as a passive receiver and active transmitter, a GPS locator, and a constant health monitor.

    A quiet alarm pinged on my desktop and I saw that Sergeant Martinez had inserted a microbug.  I keyed the button that would allow me to speak to her privately.  I didn’t have many microbugs at large in Angel Falls yet, but there was no reason that anyone else needed to be in on our conversation.  “Welcome aboard, Sergeant Martinez.  From now on, whenever you need my attention, just preface whatever you need to say with my name.  Understood?”

    “Network,” she said, “why would I ever need your attention?”

    “Actually,” I noted drily, “you only need to say my name to start a conversation- if we’re already speaking, you can just speak normally.  As to why you might want my help… well, let’s see if I can provide you with some reasons…”

    I regaled Sergeant Martinez with a précis of her current assignment and the progress she’d made so far. I also described what I’d been able to learn of Apollo’s conflict with the gangbangers and the unknown meta who’d ended it.  I left out the encounter that started it all- that bit of information wasn’t mine to give away, just yet.

    Martinez gave a low whistle.  “Okay,” she said, “I’m impressed.  Can you tell me anything else?”

    “Not yet,” I admitted, “and I might not always tell you everything in any case- I keep secrets, so just because I know something doesn’t mean that I’ll automatically entrust it to everyone I speak with.  Fair enough?”

    “What if something comes up that I don’t want you to know about?” Martinez asked.  I was impressed- it was a good question.

    “The short answer is simple- take out the microbug.  They’re powered by your bioelectric field.  If you take it out and stick it in your pocket, it goes dead.  If it is depowered without getting the shutdown command from you, it dies.”

    Of course, that energy is pretty insignificant, which is why the transmission signal transmits a command that turns nearby cellular and radio transmitters into signal boosters.  The data that the bugs send is deeply encoded, compressed, and scrambled; any device not equipped with the proper key would only hear it as very quiet white noise on the line.  Not bad, I thought, for a device only slightly larger than a grain of rice.

*****

Now

    Shae waited until Ellie left, then watched a little longer.  The police sergeant was pretty bright, she thought; if only she was certain she could be trusted.  She breathed a bit easier as the patrol car finally pulled away from the curb and drove off.

    Sadie was in the spare bedroom that Shae had designated for her use.  She sat slouched in a huge beanbag chair, her feet splayed out in front of her, her eyes staring at nothing.

    “Hey, kiddo,” Shae called, tapping on the doorframe as she pushed inside, “what’s up?”

    Sadie took her time, turning her pale, wan face up to look at Shae before responding.  Shae noticed that, despite the cool air in the room, Sadie appeared to have a light sheen of sweat on her cheeks and forehead.  “Gary didn’t like the lady cop,” Sadie replied sullenly.

    Shae wrinkled her forehead in confusion.  “I wasn’t planning on having the two of you go out to dinner together,” she noted.  “Sadie, are you feeling all right?”

    Sadie shrugged and Shae walked over and placed the back of her hand against her brow.  “My God, you’re burning up!”

    “Gary says I’ll be fine,” Sadie commented.

    “Does Gary have a medical degree?” Shae asked sharply.

    Sadie smiled disconcertingly.  “Gary knows more about human ‘natme than any foolish, mortal fizzyshun.  He told me so.”

    “Uh huh,” Shae grunted uncertainly.  “Okay- no doctor.  They’d probably only call the police when they realized we weren’t related, anyways.  I’m still calling my brother, though.”

    “That’s okay.  Gary likes him.”

    “Good to know,” Shae remarked drily, reaching for her phone.

*****

Now

    The man wasn’t exceptionally tall and he was bent and wizened with age, but his rheumy violet eyes darted about his workroom with purpose, almost crackling with energy and inquisitiveness.

    “How curious,” he murmured, “I felt sure that Mr. Vedder would have demonstrated some form of advancement in his metahuman condition…”

    Moe shrugged.  “Nothing I saw,” she admitted, “but I didn’t exactly go into the building.”

    “That’s frustrating.  I wish I’d had those thugs plant some sort of monitoring device on him… but, given how slipshod their methods have been thus far, I can only assume they would have bungled the job like they did with so many others.”

    The old man made a note on a pad of paper while the woman called Moe looked on curiously.

    “You want me to find out what happened with him, Prof?” she asked.  She was beginning to feel a little stir-crazy; getting out and stretching her legs would feel good.

    The old man pursed his lips.  “I… think not.  No thank you.”  He looked over the restrained figures of four men, strapped to hospital gurneys, their bodies naked to the waist with tubes and monitoring devices hooked to them.

    “I am impressed with how effective Boost has proven to be on non-metas.  You say these four appeared to actually challenge that boy, Apollo?”

    “Sure,” Moe replied, “one of ‘em actually made him bleed a little through his forcefield.”

    “Very good.  Very good, indeed!”  He steepled his fingers in front of his chest.  “It is such a pity that the drug is so taxing on the body.  Three or four uses and the body succumbs to renal failure… the decline is even faster if the user is forced into extreme agitation of some sort.”  He gestured at the man nearest to him.  “Observe his vitals, my dear- see how his heart rate and blood pressure are elevated, his bilirubin production is nearly nonexistent, his kidney function has all but stopped?”

    Moe shrugged, disinterested.

    “I wager that another dose of Boost will be sufficient to cause his body to shut down altogether.  As it is, he is clinging to life only with the assistance of these devices we’ve attached him to.”

    He fingered a hanging I.V. drip bag, then removed it from its hanger and replaced it with another.  “Very well.  I wish to observe this one’s decline, Moe.  Please dispose of the rest of this refuse somewhere out of the way, would you?”

    Moe wrinkled her nose.  “I guess.  Is that it?”

    “Do you feel this task is beneath you, my dear?” he chided affectionately.  “Perhaps you are right.  Very well, my Magnum Opus, after you have completed that little chore, you may have some fun: fetch me Apollo or, at the least, a sample of his tissue.

    “I feel I am on the edge of a breakthrough,” he continued, “and, when it comes, I will transform the world.  Humanity will evolve- and they will have Professor Rupert Stearns to thank for it!”

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And the plot, like an excellent stew to which just enough flour has been sprinkled in, thickens.  I have to say- I do love Moe and Professor Stearns; they're so very childishly uncomplicated in their evil.  This picture- and all the artwork for Shooting stars- is brought to you by the amazingly talented and lovely !

Shooting Stars is an epic tale (okay, maybe that's pushing it, but I've always wanted to call something I wrote an epic) taking place in  and will feature characters by , , and an appearance of Esau by .

 wrote the story and owns the characters of Network, Sergeant Eleanora Martinez, and Shae Vance.

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