by Chaz Hamilton
The detective and Starmaster remained for another hour, asking questions. Krystal stayed as well, but she was unusually silent as she worked on the computer. She did take a momentary break as the EMT approached her and graciously took a photo with him before he and his partner departed.
Finally, Chaz was given permission to leave, but asked to report to the Star Force Observatory building the next day around noon. He and Starmaster were going to look for Poundcake together. The detective would track down the hard copies of the arrest records and try to uncover why the court documents were sealed. Krystal informed everyone she would contact Director Nova and act as the liaison between BADGE and the police.
Romana had been excused a half-hour before Chaz, much to his chagrin. He would have liked to escort her home.
The next morning, Chaz’s body complained as he woke up, but not as badly as it had the night before. He forced himself out of bed, made a double-strength batch of coffee, filled his travel mug, and headed out.
The Star Force Observatory rested in an older section of town, making use of an old museum building. Still under renovation, it had yellow-tape barring use of most doorways. The New Amsterdam city council had only recently granted approval for leagues to have actual headquarter buildings, fearing the operation centers for heroes would endanger the surrounding communities. To alleviate these concerns, each building was required to have an operational defensive sentinel, or guardian robot, on premises.
Through an open, garage-style doorway leading into a section of the observatory, Chaz could see a man kneeling while working on what looked like an enormous skeletal framework. Chaz moved closer, curious to see more. “Hey, is Starmaster around?”
The man didn’t respond. Chaz moved behind the man, noticing a thick nylon strap pulled behind the man’s head, connected to a pair of thick bug-eyed goggles, and a strange metallic band attached a few inches above the base of the man’s neck. Studying it further, Chaz realized the band had been surgically implanted, only visible due to the pull of the straps on the hair at the back of the man’s head. The band terminated just behind the man’s ears on both sides.
As if aware of being scrutinized, the man straightened his back and glanced around. Seeing Chaz, his face burst into a wide smile and he made a short gesture Chaz recognized as American Sign Language, or ASL. The man then reached behind his head and touched the metal band with one finger of his gloved hand. “I am sorry. Did you say something to me?”
The detective and Starmaster remained for another hour, asking questions. Krystal stayed as well, but she was unusually silent as she worked on the computer. She did take a momentary break as the EMT approached her and graciously took a photo with him before he and his partner departed.
Finally, Chaz was given permission to leave, but asked to report to the Star Force Observatory building the next day around noon. He and Starmaster were going to look for Poundcake together. The detective would track down the hard copies of the arrest records and try to uncover why the court documents were sealed. Krystal informed everyone she would contact Director Nova and act as the liaison between BADGE and the police.
Romana had been excused a half-hour before Chaz, much to his chagrin. He would have liked to escort her home.
The next morning, Chaz’s body complained as he woke up, but not as badly as it had the night before. He forced himself out of bed, made a double-strength batch of coffee, filled his travel mug, and headed out.
The Star Force Observatory rested in an older section of town, making use of an old museum building. Still under renovation, it had yellow-tape barring use of most doorways. The New Amsterdam city council had only recently granted approval for leagues to have actual headquarter buildings, fearing the operation centers for heroes would endanger the surrounding communities. To alleviate these concerns, each building was required to have an operational defensive sentinel, or guardian robot, on premises.
Through an open, garage-style doorway leading into a section of the observatory, Chaz could see a man kneeling while working on what looked like an enormous skeletal framework. Chaz moved closer, curious to see more. “Hey, is Starmaster around?”
The man didn’t respond. Chaz moved behind the man, noticing a thick nylon strap pulled behind the man’s head, connected to a pair of thick bug-eyed goggles, and a strange metallic band attached a few inches above the base of the man’s neck. Studying it further, Chaz realized the band had been surgically implanted, only visible due to the pull of the straps on the hair at the back of the man’s head. The band terminated just behind the man’s ears on both sides.
As if aware of being scrutinized, the man straightened his back and glanced around. Seeing Chaz, his face burst into a wide smile and he made a short gesture Chaz recognized as American Sign Language, or ASL. The man then reached behind his head and touched the metal band with one finger of his gloved hand. “I am sorry. Did you say something to me?”
“I was looking for Starmaster. Do you know where he is?” Chaz asked before his mind placed the man’s face to a name. “You’re Alan Marcus, aren’t you?”
The man nodded. “They call me Catalyst here. Yes. I am Alan.” He then took off a thick, insulated glove and offered his hand in welcome to Chaz.
Almost everyone had heard of Alan Marcus at some point in his life. His mother, Sarah Jane Marcus, had been a leader in computer engineering over a decade ago and designed the equipment that allowed her son, who had been born without the bones of his inner ear, to hear. Covered as an inspirational human-interest story, the video of his implant being turned on went viral. The family’s story turned tragic years later when his mother disappeared on a space mission, along with the entire crew of an orbital platform she had joined. Then, a few years later, when Morphons were introduced to the atmosphere through the Legion’s portals, Alan had been in an accident that put him in a coma for over a month. During the period of his hospitalization, his father passed from cancer while sitting at his son’s bedside.
Being only a few years older than Alan, Chaz had grown up knowing all about the young scientist and his trials. Meeting him in person, and seeing him exude such a friendly, happy nature after all he had been through, resonated in Chaz and he found himself smiling and a bit more at ease with the world than he felt when he first woke up. He took Alan’s hand and shook it warmly. He fumbled in his pocket for his press ID badge, holding it out to Alan. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Chaz. I work at the Sentinel—”
“Yes. I know who you are,” Alan grinned. “Starmaster is on his way. Would you like to see sentinel I am building?”
“Sure,” Chaz said.
Chaz listened as Alan described the project, pointing enthusiastically at the robotic parts and diagrams taped on a nearby chalkboard. His vocabulary was excellent, but he spoke with a slightly altered diction, leaving out some phrases most people would use, dropping an occasional "the" and other grammatically appropriate part of a sentence. All common signs of English being learned a second language.
“Don’t give away all our secrets there, Catalyst,” Starmaster said as he came down a short set of stairs. “We don’t need the plans for our guardian showing up in the paper, do we?”
Alan turned to Chaz, looked him up and down once, and shook his head. “He would not do that. Chaz is good guy. If he was after my robot as a story, he would be taking notes or recording me and taking pictures.”
Chaz couldn’t help but like Alan’s earnest nature. “You’re right. Thanks for defending me, sir.”
“Anytime,” Alan said. He picked up a tool from the ground and began to tinker on a section of arm. “Go and do what you need to with Starmaster. He will keep you safe. Later.”
“Later.” Chaz moved to meet Starmaster and noticed a partially open door up on the landing Starmaster descended from. A slim, shadowy figure stood in the next room, looking out into the garage. As soon as Chaz brought his head up to identify who was watching, the door snapped closed. “Who else is up there?”
“Up where?” Starmaster moved to exit through the large garage doors.
“Inside your headquarters?” Chaz asked, following him. “Someone was watching us.”
“Probably Wyldfyre. He can be a bit nosy sometimes.” Starmaster shrugged without looking back.
The shape Chaz noticed in the doorway didn’t look anything like the muscular build of Wyldfyre. Who is Starmaster not wanting to talk about? Chaz made a mental note, not wanting to push the issue so early in the day.
The two men exited onto the street. Starmaster stopped and looked to the north. “Krystal sent me an address for Poundcake. She lives on the other side of town. Are you ready to go talk to her again?”
“Yeah,” Chaz said. He looked around, searching for a vehicle. Some snazzy Star Force transport, like a decked-out Hummer or sleek helicopter. Not seeing one, he glanced at his own vehicle, wondering if Starmaster would give him time to clean out the debris in his passenger seat. “I’m parked over there. Give me a minute to…”
“You don’t need to drive us there. I’ll take care of that.” Starmaster floated up into the air.
Chaz didn’t notice until he also began to ascend that he was floating as well. “Is this safe?”
“Mostly. I’ll try to keep us at around one story. That way, if I drop you, you’ll only break an arm or leg, OK?”
Chaz’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Hold on a minute.”
They took off at a breakneck speed, but Chaz didn’t even feel the brush of air against his cheeks. He reached out and touched an invisible, solid barrier curving around the two of them.
“Psychokinetic bubble,” Starmaster said. “You are as safe as you’re going to be Mr. Hamilton. Once we land is when the danger starts.”
The man nodded. “They call me Catalyst here. Yes. I am Alan.” He then took off a thick, insulated glove and offered his hand in welcome to Chaz.
Almost everyone had heard of Alan Marcus at some point in his life. His mother, Sarah Jane Marcus, had been a leader in computer engineering over a decade ago and designed the equipment that allowed her son, who had been born without the bones of his inner ear, to hear. Covered as an inspirational human-interest story, the video of his implant being turned on went viral. The family’s story turned tragic years later when his mother disappeared on a space mission, along with the entire crew of an orbital platform she had joined. Then, a few years later, when Morphons were introduced to the atmosphere through the Legion’s portals, Alan had been in an accident that put him in a coma for over a month. During the period of his hospitalization, his father passed from cancer while sitting at his son’s bedside.
Being only a few years older than Alan, Chaz had grown up knowing all about the young scientist and his trials. Meeting him in person, and seeing him exude such a friendly, happy nature after all he had been through, resonated in Chaz and he found himself smiling and a bit more at ease with the world than he felt when he first woke up. He took Alan’s hand and shook it warmly. He fumbled in his pocket for his press ID badge, holding it out to Alan. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Chaz. I work at the Sentinel—”
“Yes. I know who you are,” Alan grinned. “Starmaster is on his way. Would you like to see sentinel I am building?”
“Sure,” Chaz said.
Chaz listened as Alan described the project, pointing enthusiastically at the robotic parts and diagrams taped on a nearby chalkboard. His vocabulary was excellent, but he spoke with a slightly altered diction, leaving out some phrases most people would use, dropping an occasional "the" and other grammatically appropriate part of a sentence. All common signs of English being learned a second language.
“Don’t give away all our secrets there, Catalyst,” Starmaster said as he came down a short set of stairs. “We don’t need the plans for our guardian showing up in the paper, do we?”
Alan turned to Chaz, looked him up and down once, and shook his head. “He would not do that. Chaz is good guy. If he was after my robot as a story, he would be taking notes or recording me and taking pictures.”
Chaz couldn’t help but like Alan’s earnest nature. “You’re right. Thanks for defending me, sir.”
“Anytime,” Alan said. He picked up a tool from the ground and began to tinker on a section of arm. “Go and do what you need to with Starmaster. He will keep you safe. Later.”
“Later.” Chaz moved to meet Starmaster and noticed a partially open door up on the landing Starmaster descended from. A slim, shadowy figure stood in the next room, looking out into the garage. As soon as Chaz brought his head up to identify who was watching, the door snapped closed. “Who else is up there?”
“Up where?” Starmaster moved to exit through the large garage doors.
“Inside your headquarters?” Chaz asked, following him. “Someone was watching us.”
“Probably Wyldfyre. He can be a bit nosy sometimes.” Starmaster shrugged without looking back.
The shape Chaz noticed in the doorway didn’t look anything like the muscular build of Wyldfyre. Who is Starmaster not wanting to talk about? Chaz made a mental note, not wanting to push the issue so early in the day.
The two men exited onto the street. Starmaster stopped and looked to the north. “Krystal sent me an address for Poundcake. She lives on the other side of town. Are you ready to go talk to her again?”
“Yeah,” Chaz said. He looked around, searching for a vehicle. Some snazzy Star Force transport, like a decked-out Hummer or sleek helicopter. Not seeing one, he glanced at his own vehicle, wondering if Starmaster would give him time to clean out the debris in his passenger seat. “I’m parked over there. Give me a minute to…”
“You don’t need to drive us there. I’ll take care of that.” Starmaster floated up into the air.
Chaz didn’t notice until he also began to ascend that he was floating as well. “Is this safe?”
“Mostly. I’ll try to keep us at around one story. That way, if I drop you, you’ll only break an arm or leg, OK?”
Chaz’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Hold on a minute.”
They took off at a breakneck speed, but Chaz didn’t even feel the brush of air against his cheeks. He reached out and touched an invisible, solid barrier curving around the two of them.
“Psychokinetic bubble,” Starmaster said. “You are as safe as you’re going to be Mr. Hamilton. Once we land is when the danger starts.”
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