Episode 105
...from the Files of Hydrogen Guy
Part II
Hans-Raoul requisitioned an appropriate car - a black sedan with tinted windows. The car was now parked across the street from a flower and garden shop called "Blossoms, Dearie" on the west side of Maple Ridge.
Hans-Raoul
Okay, let's go.
Damian
Just for the record - I'm not happy with this deception.
Bill Oliver was at the wheel, and Damian Leary and Hans-Raoul Galerkin sat in the back. All three wore new dark-coloured suits. Bill wore dark sunglasses, and Damian and Hans-Raoul held each held a pair in their hands
Hans-Raoul
Now you tell me. You don't have to deceive anyone, Damian, just leave the talking to me.
He moved to put the glasses on, then paused.
Hans-Raoul
What don't you like about it?
Damian
My main objection, which I know you'll probably find quaint, is that I prefer not to lie to people, especially people that I'm supposed to be working with.
Hans-Raoul
Don't worry, I don't hold the fact that you have a conscience against you. Actually, it speaks well of you that you've gotten so far ahead in your business with that kind of a handicap.
Damian
I can't tell if you're joking or not... It's not just a matter of conscience. A business relationship based on lies is a complicated one. Not to mention an unreliable one.
Hans-Raoul nodded.
Hans-Raoul
Of course. I agree with you. But look... if I go in there as a private individual or a representative of ICBC, they're not going to go along with it, at least not without me paying them enough to
satisfy their consciences. Which, given their recent negative experiences, is likely to be expensive. But if we do it my way, they'll do the job for practically nothing. And anything that I'm paying
them would have to come out of what I'm paying you.
Damian
All right. I can't argue with that.
Nevertheless, he exchanged a significant look with Bill before donning his glasses and getting out of the car.
As Hans-Raoul and Damian Leary entered the shop, they were greeted by a wave of warmth and fragrance. Two voices somewhere in the small jungle of bouquets and house plants facing them were engaged in a discussion about tulip bulbs. Sally Kettle and Adrian Room were looking over a sheaf of invoices by the cash register, and their conversation stopped dead when the two dark suits emerged from the foliage.
Damian had obtained the SHVD's Winter's Heart file through a reliable contact. They didn't, Damian thought, look like the dangerous nascent supervillains that the file made them out to be. Sally Kettle, proprietor of "Blossoms, Dearie", was a small woman in her twenties with a blonde bob. She looked, surrounded by plants in her neat, flowery frock, delicate enough that a bad draft might give her a turn for the worse.
Adrian Room was a thin, balding man waffling around forty years old who looked like the human incarnation of tweed. He wore a smock, gardening gloves, and a pair of half-moon glasses with a smudge of mud on them. Damian's inner sense twitched; Room did seem to have some latent ability, although he couldn't say how developed it was.
Sally regarded the two interlopers with trepidation. Outwardly, she was all calm and politeness; after all, they might be customers, mightn't they?
Sally
May I help you?
Hans-Raoul
Sally Kettle and Adrian Room?
Adrian
Yes?
A note of alarm had crept into his voice. But he alarmed easily.
Hans-Raoul
I'm Special Agent Galerkin, this is Special Agent Leary. We're with the RCMP's Super-Heroes and Villains Department.
On cue, Damian and Hans-Raoul produced the fake badges that Hans-Raoul had wheedled out of ICBC's Forgeries Department. Sally and Adrian looked at them uncritically, then back at the visitors.
Hans-Raoul
We'd like a moment of your time, please.
Sally
Come into the back office, then. Adrian, go turn the sign, please?
They all crowded into a small, cluttered office off the store-room at the back of the shop. Sally sat at the desk, looking impatiently at the visitors. Hans-Raoul sat across from her in an old kitchen chair. Adrian stood behind Sally, not entirely sure what to do with his hands. Damian carefully moved a large aspidistra in order to squeeze into the room behind Hans-Raoul, and Sally glared at him as he did so.
Sally
Now, if you don't mind, we have a business to run, so please make whatever it is quick.
Hans-Raoul
It's quite a nice little shop, too. You've owned it for, what, two years now?
Sally
Two and a half.
Hans-Raoul
And you worked here for a year before the previous owner retired, and you bought it from him, correct?
Sally
Yes.
Hans-Raoul
Pardon the cliché, but it seems to be blossoming. I don't know a great deal about flowers, but I know happy plants when I see them. Business all right?
Sally
It's fine.
Hans-Raoul
Mr. Room, you've worked here for about six months now, is that right?
Adrian
Yes.
Hans-Raoul
And you've been taking care of the gardening side of things, while Ms. Kettle takes care of the florist's?
Room was about to respond when Sally cut him off.
Sally
I expanded the florist's to include a gardening centre when I re-opened the shop and Adrian came to work with me. As I'm sure you know, Mr. Special Agent, one of the conditions of our parole is
that we both have regular jobs that are not in any way connected with Adrian's former line, antiquities, nor with jewels, meta-humans or the Natural History Museum. Now will you please get to the
point?
Hans-Raoul
I'm sorry, Ms. Kettle, I'm just trying to get our facts straight. I apologise if I'm making you uncomfortable. The reason Special Agent Leary and I are here is to ask for your help. Mostly yours,
Mr. Room, but if Ms. Kettle agrees to join us, that would also be helpful.
Adrian
What, ah, sort of "help" do you mean?
Hans-Raoul
We need the skills you developed in your antiquarian studies. Your magic skills.
Adrian
Then I'm afraid I must refuse. I've given up amateur sorcery, for the better, Mister, ah...
Hans-Raoul
Galerkin.
Adrian
Mr. Galerkin. No, I'm sorry. That was an unwholesome period of my life that I'm now deeply ashamed of. I have no desire to go back.
Sally
And it would be a violation of his parole, besides.
Hans-Raoul
You would be working for the SHVD, Mr. Room. There's no violation involved.
Especially, he added to himself, since your new parole officer is on the ICBC payroll, and I've already squared him.
Adrian
I'm sorry, I still must refuse.
Sally nodded.
Sally
That goes for both of us, Mr. Galerkin. Now I'd appreciate it –
Damian
Not all magic is unwholesome, Mr. Room.
Hans-Raoul prevented himself from shooting Leary a look. Instead he imagined waves of discretion washing from himself to his partner.
Damian
Most magic is neutral, just like any human tool. Those arts which lead to quick and easy power tend to be more popular, hence more easily found in your mould-ridden texts, and those do tend
towards the unwholesome arts. But there's magic in life as well as death. My own specialities are the magic of plants and forests. They require more discipline in the user, but in their domains
they're just as powerful.
Adrian
You are a wizard? Mister, er, ...
Damian
Damian Leary. I prefer to call myself a student of the Arts. I can teach you some of what I know, in exchange for your help.
The old call of arcane knowledge was a strong one for Adrian Room. Sally saw him waver. As did Hans-Raoul.
Sally
Be strong, Adrian.
Hans-Raoul
It may help you decide if you know what we're after.
Sally
And what are you after?
Damian
The demon.
Adrian
Ah... demon?
Sally's complexion grew even paler than usual.
Sally
You mean Azoni.
Hans-Raoul
That's correct, Ms. Kettle. We're going to summon and trap Azoni. It's the summoning part that we need your help with, Mr. Room.
Adrian
I don't understand, I'm afraid...
Hans-Raoul answered quickly before Sally could intervene.
Hans-Raoul
Azoni of the Sear is a powerful electrical demon from the Infernal Plane of Aybabtu, summoned by the Ice Witch to be her servant – using the same book of spells, Mr. Room, that you used to
free the Ice Witch from the Winter's Heart. When the Ice Witch was defeated, the demon was freed. It's made periodic appearances around the world since then, at the cost of several lives and some
considerable property damage. Mr. Leary and I have been acting as autonomous agents of the Department for the last few months, tracking it, and now we're in a position where we want it captured. And
since Ms. Kettle is the only one we know of who's interacted with the demon –
Sally
It wasn't me! It was her! The Ice Witch!
Hans-Raoul
Of course, Ms. Kettle. We all know that. But the demon doesn't. It might give us an edge against it... Of course, even though it technically wasn't you, some irrational part of yourself must feel
responsible.
Sally
I don't.
Hans-Raoul
Think of this as away to subdue some of your own demons. Maybe as a chance for closure.
Sally didn't respond. Adrian sighed, and ran his hand through his already dishevelled hair.
Adrian
I don't know... It really wasn't any of Sally's fault, but if I hadn't wanted to interfere with the Winter's Heart... I suppose I am responsible for the demon's presence. But to dabble in the
occult again...
Sally
Adrian, you're talking rot. They're just trying to manipulate us into doing what they want.
Hans-Raoul
You've got us wrong, Ms. Kettle. We're not trying to manipulate anyone. I'm just trying to point out what might be in it for you, if you help us.
He turned back to Room.
Hans-Raoul
I understand your hesitancy, Mr. Room. We don't want to force either of you into helping us. But please consider it. If you do help us, it will be looked on favourably by the Department, not to
mention the parole board. Especially if you help us as volunteers.
He was trying to give the impression that he had the legal power to force them to help, but didn't want to use it. A little heavy handed, maybe, but he was also playing a character.
Adrian
I'd, ah, like to give it some thought.
Hans-Raoul
Of course.
He produced a plain business card and handed it to Room.
Hans-Raoul
We're having a meeting tonight at this address to discuss the project. Eight o'clock. I'd very much like it if you both came. Even if you do, there's no obligations... Thanks for hearing us out.
We'll let you get back to you work.
He rose, stepped over the aspidistra, and walked out of the office. Damian followed after him, with Adrian a half-step behind, muttering politely. Sally glared after them, but remained in the office.
Emerging into the front of the store was like stepping into a walk-in freezer. A thin layer of frost covered everything - plants, furniture, floor, and windows. Their breath came out in steamy clouds.
Hans-Raoul paused and gave Adrian an amused glance.
Hans-Raoul
A little late in the year for frost, isn't it?
Adrian
Oh my... not again...
Hans-Raoul
That was interesting.
Damian
It certainly was. You're a manipulative bastard, Mr. Galerkin.
Hans-Raoul
It's my job, Mr. Leary... I was talking about what had happened in the store, though.
Damian
Yes, I know... Apparently Ms. Kettle is still suffering some after-effects from her ordeal.
Hans-Raoul
Just another unwanted reminder of her guilt which will make her all the more obligated to help us.
Damian
You think she will? My impression was that she'd do it over your dead body.
Hans-Raoul
She wouldn't have gotten angry with us if she wasn't fighting herself. Room's definitely on the edge, thanks in large part to you. She'll try and talk him out of it, but if he agrees, then
ultimately so will she. And vice-versa. They're clearly protective of each other, if nothing else.
Damian
So you think they'll come.
Hans-Raoul
They'll come.
He opened the passenger side door, startling Bill out of a reverie. Leary slid into the back.
Bill
How'd it go?
Although he'd addressed the question to Damian, Hans-Raoul answered.
Hans-Raoul
Perfectly. Next on the list, Bill!
Bill turned the ignition.
Bill
Yes, sir.
Bill's sarcasm was lost on Hans-Raoul, but not on Damian.
Lydia Fitzwallace walked into one of the rougher taverns on Maple Ridge's south-east side. She approached the bar, where the bartender (easily the ugliest 250 lbs she'd yet seen in Canada, though still a beauty pageant next to his counterparts back in Australia) was building an admittedly impressive pyramid out of salted peanuts. He appeared to take no notice of her.
She cleared her throat and made an announcement in his direction.
Lydia
Gimme a rum 'n' coke, mate.
The bartender continued stacking peanuts.
Lydia
'ere, mate!
The bartender balanced another peanut on the pyramid.
Lydia looked around, sizing up the lay of the room, where people were sitting and walking. She pulled her revolver and shot the top-most peanut, the one he'd just placed, off the pyramid. The bartender leaped back as if bitten by a snake, rattling the bottles and glasses behind him. The bullet embedded itself into a cement post on the other side of the bar.
The rest of the pyramid didn't so much as quiver.
All conversation in the bar had stopped. She now had the bartender's - and everyone else's - undivided attention.
Lydia
I don't like havin' t'repeat myself.
She carefully slid the revolver back under her belt, making sure that he saw it. He was wiggling his fingers tentatively, examining them as if he couldn't entirely believe they were all intact.
Bartender
Yes ma'am.
He quickly mixed the drink and set it in front of her.
Bartender
I'll, uh, have to ask you not to do that again. I'm pretty sure it violates a bylaw or an ordinance or something.
Lydia
No worries, mate.
She paid for the drink, with a generous tip.
Lydia
We all understand each other now.
She winked at him. He nodded.
Lydia sipped her drink, and turned around to take in the rest of the bar. Conversations had resumed, albeit in lower voices, and one eye out of every two in the bar still watched her.
Lydia
Now...
She spoke just loud enough to be heard in the back.
Lydia
... which one a'ya's 'Ank 'Ernandes?
The small, rattish man she'd been looking at froze in a decidedly guilty way. She smiled, and started over to his table.
"Dat's you, Hank!" said one of his companions unnecessarily, "She's comin' over!"
Hank
Shaddup, Eggs!
Without asking, or bothering with a chair, Lydia sat down on the edge of the table next to Hernandes. His two friends, both of whom were much larger than Hernandes or Lydia, stood up threateningly. She took a gulp of her drink, ignoring them.
Lydia
G'day, 'Ank. 'Ow's tricks?
Hank
I know you?
Lydia
No... but yer gonna. Siddown, mates. We're all right.
The one on the left, a clean-shaved black man named Tony, scowled at her.
Tony
We'll see about that.
The one on the left, who Hank had called Eggs, was a Caucasian with a scruffy beard. He looked quite a few years older than the other two.
Lydia shrugged, and concentrated her attention on Hernandes again. She continued conversationally.
Lydia
Y'got anything goin' on these days, 'Ank?
Hank
Who wants to know?
Lydia
Name's Lydia Fitzwallace. I'm recruiting fer a bloke named Galerkin. 'Eard of 'im?
Hank
Yeah... Works for ICBC, don't he? One of the VP's or something...
Lydia
Right. Matter of fact, 'e's the reason the lot of ya aren't rottin' inside right now, i'n'e?
The thugs shifted uncomfortably.
Lydia
'E's in business for 'imself at the moment, anny's looking for a bitta muscle. 'E arsked for you specifically. Innerested?
Hank
Depends. How much?
Lydia
Galerkin's got something I think you'll be innerested in. I'll give you an 'int, it's not cash, but it is green and it comes in a bucket.
The three exchanged glances; she saw traces of shock, greed and even fear.
Eggs
Y'mean he's got da slime?
Tony
How'd he get it?
Lydia shrugged.
Lydia
Din't tell me, now, diddy? But takin' the slime's a condition of takin' the job, and when it's done, it's yours. Those're the terms, mate, no more, no less. If you want t'know more, come 'ere
t'night at 'ight.
She produced one of Hans-Raoul's cards and handed it to Hank. He took it somewhat thoughtfully. He glanced first at Eggs, then Tony. They each nodded. Hank nodded in acknowledgment, and stuck the card in the pocket of his denim shirt.
Hank
What's the job?
Lydia
Simple muscle work.Can't say more 'ere. You'll find out tonight.
Hank nodded.
Hank
Tell'im we'll be there.
Lydia felt her accent and her confidence slip.
Lydia
What d'y'mean, we'll be there?
Hank
Me, Tony, and Eggs. When I picked up the slime, we agreed to be partners. You tell Galerkin that if he wants me, he's gotta take all three of us.
Lydia processed the information, then shrugged again. Like all good delegates, she knew when to pass the buck.
Lydia
Arright. Show up t'night and we'll see. I can't promise anything.
She got up, gulped the rest of her drink, and clunked the glass down on the table.
Lydia
Thanks fer yer time, mates. See yerround.
Tony and Eggs sat back down as she walked away, Eggs in particular watching her carefully. On her way out, she directed another wink and a finger pistol at the bartender, who grimaced back.
Once she was gone, Eggs exhaled.
Eggs
Holy mackerel. Boys, I t'ink I'm in love.
Hank
Knock it off, Eggs. This is serious.
Eggs
So am I! Dame who looks like dat, got plenty a moxie, and shoots like Annie Oakley? Sign me up!
Tony
Yeah, man, but she'll still be like that when you forget her birthday, you know? Hey, Hank, seriously... You sure you wanna get involved with the slime again? It didn't work out too good last
time. You got taken over, man.
Hank
I know, Tony. But listen - that bucket of slime's still our gravy train. We ain't never done so good as we did when we had that stuff. All we gotta do, this time, is be careful. I gotta make sure
I don't give it too much, if you know what I mean.
Tony
I think so. But, man - that stuff killed all those people.
Hank
Cops.
Tony
They're still people.
Eggs
Sez who?
Tony
It's dangerous, man.
Hank
Like I said, we gotta be careful. You want out, Tony?
Tony
No, no, I'm just, you know, being devil's advocate.
Eggs
Da devil is right. You know who you remind me of, Hank? My ol' man, da way he talked every time he went back to da needle.
Hank
You want out, too, Eggs?
Eggs
And miss my chance at dat broad? No way.
Hank
I appreciate what you guys are sayin'. But I want that slime back. I'm takin' the job.
Tony
Then I'm with you, man.
Eggs
Me too, Hank.
Hank
Thanks, guys.
Eggs
I wonder what da job is.
Hank
We'll find out tonight. "Simple muscle work," she says. Hey, we got the slime. How tough could it be, right?
Hans-Raoul
Are you sure this is the right place?
Bill
It's the address you gave me.
Damian
What's wrong?
Hans-Raoul
The house... it's too... nice.
The car sat outside a large house on Burrard Inlet, a finger of the Pacific which reached several kilometres inland from Vancouver. The scenery was spectacular. Burnaby mountain lay across the inlet, its top shrouded in mist. On a clear day, they would be able to see Simon Fraser University. On the sides of the house not facing the Inlet, it and the road was backed by forest. The house itself was a three-story, aggressively modern building, like a jumble of Lego bricks covered in white stone. There were several large picture windows. On one corner of the roof was a dome, like an observatory.
Hans-Raoul
Maybe we took a wrong turn.
Bill shook his head.
Bill
We didn't take any wrong turns.
Hans-Raoul
Are you sure? You are from out of town...
Damian
If Bill says this is the place, then this is the place. Let's go.
He got out of the car and started down the steeply sloping driveway. Hans-Raoul hesitated for another second, then followed. His misgivings remained as he pressed the doorbell, until the door flew open and a greasy blond head poked through the doorway.
Keith
Hey, it's Hans. And this must be Frans. What's up?
Hans-Raoul
Keith... uh, this is the Crustacean's house... ?
Keith
Yeah, yeah, no worries, man. Me and a buddy are just renting out the basement suite. Crusty can't bear to be without me, y'know, I'm like his right-claw man, so to speak. Hey, if you're lookin'
for the Big Bug, he's out with his little crayfish buddies "on maneuvers".
He appended the phrase with finger quotes. Hans-Raoul suppressed the urge to slap him by reminding himself it would involve touching him.
Hans-Raoul
Good. We're here for Dr. Hawking. Can we come inside?
Keith
Sure, sure, sorry... HEY HAWK! IT'S FOR YOU! I think he's just in the john or something. Hi, I'm Keith.
Damian
Damian.
Keith
Like "The Omen", eh? Freaky. Hey, Hans, never figured you were into the whole "Goth" scene. Don't ever come 'round in body mesh, okay? Do us all a
favour.
Hans-Raoul
Keith...
Keith
Sorry, man, I don't know what's taking him. EMMANUEL LEWIS HAWKING! GET OFF THE THRONE, YOU HAVE GUESTS! He's probably working on his carpal tunnel, if you know what I mean? I wouldn't shake his
hand.
Hans-Raoul
Keith, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention our visit to the Crustacean.
Keith
Well, y'know...
A crisp, red $50 bill appeared in Hans-Raoul's hand, and then just as quickly disappeared.
Keith
Don't worry, I'll be getting amnesia any second now.
Dr. Emmanuel Lewis Hawking appeared on the stairs behind them, buttoning his lab coat. He was a distinguished older man, an altogether different kind of academic from Adrian Room - tightly focused, driven, nefarious even, rather than dreamy and befuddled.
Hawking
Keith, you know that nothing amuses me like your dulcet bellows, but – ah, Mr. Galerkin!
Hans-Raoul
Dr. Hawking, good to see you. I hope you don't mind our dropping by unannounced?
Hawking
Not at all, it's a pleasure. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but I was setting up a delicate experiment in the observatory.
Keith
Heh, I've never heard it called that before.
Hans-Raoul
Keith, scram.
Keith
I'm scramming.
Hans-Raoul performed the introductions, and Hawking suggested they talk in his study, which afforded an excellent view of the Inlet. Once settled comfortably, Hans-Raoul was no longer able to contain his curiosity.
Hans-Raoul
Doctor – the house!
Hawking smiled.
Hawking
Do you like it?
Hans-Raoul
It's amazing! I'd live here! How did this happen? The last I heard, you were all back in that rundown student apartment in the University district, after Hydrogen Guy blew up the Undersea
Lair.
Hawking
Yes, that's correct.
Hans-Raoul
Doctor, I do not remember approving funding for a house like this.
Hawking
Oh, and of course there's quite a bit more to it than what you see. Aside from the observatory on the third floor, and a small chemical laboratory off the kitchen, all of the upper levels are
living space for myself, Joe Switchboard and Pu Wing Fu, who enjoys a large padded room at the end of the hall. Beneath the basement, which comprises Keith's domicile and a wine cellar –
Hans-Raoul
Is that wise?
Hawking
The wine cellar is kept locked and alarmed. The alarm unlocks Pu Wing Fu's room.
Hans-Raoul
Ah.
Hawking
Beneath the basement is an extensive laboratory, armoury, and computer command centre, and beneath that is a series of networked aquaria for the Crustacean and the Crayleks, with access to the
inlet. There is also a subterranean port with two mini-submersibles.
Hans-Raoul
Wow. What happened, did the Crustacean rob Las Vegas? Or did he finally sell that sub-orbital natto delivery system he was talking about?
Hawking
Neither. The house's original builder lost a great deal of money in the dot-com crash. We were able to get it for much less than it was worth. Especially after we introduced the seller to Pu Wing
Fu.
Hans-Raoul
Even so, it couldn't have been a trivial purchase. The Crustacean must have a new business plan.
Hawking nodded.
Hawking
He finally agreed to hire a consultant, which I'd been urging him to do for quite some time. We have invested in several ventures in the grey and black markets. The Crustacean is now a principal
investor in Western Canada's largest bulk emailing concern.
Hans-Raoul
What?! Doctor, are you saying that the Crustacean's become a Spam King?
Hawking
Well... if you want to put it that way, yes...
Hans-Raoul
Doctor... you know ICBC is very open-minded about its agents' business practices, but even we have limits!
Hawking
It was Keith's idea... We were also able to salvage a good deal from the Undersea Lair - although not the teleportation device, unfortunately. The Crustacean and I worked out a house-sharing
agreement wherein I would pay for half out of my family fortune.
Hans-Raoul
I'm sorry, did you say "Crustacean" and "sharing"?
Hawking
Yes. Even with the loss of the Undersea Lair, he's been quite reasonable. The Crayleks have been a remarkably good influence on him. Fatherhood, you know. They've also provided us with a
secondary source of income.
Hans-Raoul
The Crayleks have?
Hawking
Yes. The recent clones have many more lobster genes in them, making them a unique species quite different from the original Marmorkrebs. We've been breeding them and then selling them through the
aquarium trade.
Hans-Raoul
What?!
Damian
You said that already.
Hans-Raoul glared at him. Hawking chuckled.
Hawking
It's turning out to be quite a sustainable little business. We've already moved two shipments of a couple dozen Crayleks each. European collectors are willing to pay well for them.
Hans-Raoul
But... the Crayleks have a high level of intelligence. As well as something of an attitude, I recall.
Hawking
Yes. Imagine it, Mr. Galerkin ... dozens of intelligent crayfish hybrids, loyal to the Crustacean, planted in the aquaria of the wealthy and powerful across G7 nations...
Damian
I find that a little disturbing.
Hans-Raoul
You're not the only one... As if becoming a spammer wasn't bad enough.
Hawking
Now, Mr. Galerkin, I assume you didn't bring Mr. Leary here just for the privilege of hearing us catch up on my invertebrate colleague's doings?
Hans-Raoul
No... I've hired Damian to work on a particular extra-curricular project of mine, one that I'd like you to work on as well.
Hawking
Extra-curricular? As in, not for the Corporation?
Hans-Raoul
Not exactly, I'm on temporary leave from ICBC. Doctor, how current is your knowledge in nuclear fusion research?
Hawking
Terrestrial, you mean?
Hans-Raoul
Of course.
Hawking
Fairly current. I'm subscribed to "Fusion Fancier's Monthly", among other publications.
Hans-Raoul
Then you're aware of the new plasma chamber that's been developed recently at the Maple Ridge Institute of High Energy Physics?
Hawking
Yes. Quite an exciting piece of equipment, so I understand, able to withstand plasma temperatures far higher than anything built before... Are you proposing to steal the plasma chamber?
Hans-Raoul
We'll see. We have a specific application for it in mind, and we'd like you to operate it and possibly make some modifications.
Hawking
I'm intrigued. What's the payoff likely to be?
Hans-Raoul
Ah... it's a project of personal interest only. We won't be making any money off of this.
Hawking looked affronted.
Hawking
I'm not interested in charity cases, Mr. Galerkin.
Hans-Raoul
No, no, of course not. I'll make it worth your while. To start, the plasma chamber's yours when we're finished.
Hawking
Interesting, but if I needed a plasma chamber, I'd build my own.
Hans-Raoul
I'll also give you this...
He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and produced a small object, which he held in the palm of his hand. It was about an inch long, and made of a metal that looked something like bronze. It was in the shape of a triangle; a seven-sized figure was inscribed inside the triangle, and a character reminiscent of an Asian pictogram lay at the centre. Damian looked at it with interest.
Hawking
A psionic resistance pendant!
Hans-Raoul
Like the first one I gave you, it protects the wearer from any attempted mental invasion. Useful to have with the Crustacean around, even if he is acting reasonably. I'm sure you've been missing
the first one. I understand the Sea Fiend somehow wandered off with it?
Hawking shuddered.
Hawking
Don't remind me! I see the blasted thing every time it guest-hosts "Tonight's the Night".
Hans-Raoul quickly pocketed the talisman, and then handed Hawking one of his cards.
Hans-Raoul
We're meeting to discuss all the details tonight at eight. Bring Big Joe Switchboard with you, if you need an assistant.
Hawking
Assistants will want to be paid.
Hans-Raoul
I can give him standard ICBC hench rates plus 10%.
Hawking
I'll extend the offer to him.
Hans-Raoul
Good. Well, we should be on our way before your regular employer comes back. We'll see you tonight?
Hawking
Certainly. You may count on it.
Accounts were accounted, consultants consulted, and debates debated.
Deuterium Boy calculated that, if they gave up cafés and gourmet hot beverages, in two years they would have saved enough for a mid-range sports coupe with a decent stereo. The idea was unanimously vetoed. Using Deuterium Boy's Saturn on a permanent basis was likewise rejected.
Throughout much of the discussion, Hydrogen Guy simply tried to follow the talk of investments, re-amortizations, fluctuating interest rates and venture capital without getting hopelessly lost. He was a mathematical whiz, not a financial one, as his own bank statements demonstrated.
Hydrogen Guy tentatively suggested that perhaps they didn't need a Tritium Truck. The Hydrogen Ducts got them around the city faster than they could legally drive. They also had the Hydrogen Whirlies, the personal gyrocopters that the Diatomic Duo kept in the Hydrogen Garage behind the Deuterium Kayaks.
Deuterium Boy provided a thorough counter-argument. Jan Fiets had demonstrated why they couldn't rely only on the Ducts. The Hydrogen Whirlies, while he conceded that they were a lot of fun, were not practical to use for prolonged periods because they partly relied on the Duo's own floating powers to keep them aloft.
It was pointed out that Chuck War still owed them a new pair of De Broglie Boards. It was likewise suggested that no one should hold their breath waiting for that to happen.
None of these, Deuterium Boy said, could completely replace the Tritium Truck. They couldn't always rely on Chuck and the War Rig whenever they wanted to take a longer trip (for example, to Seattle in pursuit of Referee X) or haul equipment around. For one thing, Galactic Customs might start asking the League to kick in for gas.
Another point was, Deuterium Boy argued, that as superheroes they needed a car for more than just practical reasons, it was an essential part of their image. A certain part of the population (both law-abiding and criminal) are impressed by a cool car. Those people would be less inclined to take the Covalent Crusaders seriously if they took the Ducts or the Whirlies everywhere. Their image was one of their best weapons. If they projected a powerful image to the population at large, supervillains would think twice before trying anything in Maple Ridge. DB swiftly deflected the usual debate about "the Metropolis Effect", and stressed that the point was an important part of their image was a cool car.
After reviewing all the options, Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy reluctantly agreed that accepting a corporate sponsorship was the only practical solution.
Mat, the publicist for the League of Heroes (local 441), sent a few discreet emails, letting it be known that two of Canada's top superheroes were looking for sponsors. The response was positive. Potential sponsors were investigated very carefully, both by HG and DB in their inimitable style (which resulted in their being escorted out of two offices and involved in one small fire-fight), and in more conventional ways by the League's counterparts in the business community. Ultimately they produced a short list of "clean" corporate applicants, and the final decision to Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy.
Which is how, about a week after the previous Tritium Truck was demolished by dangerous mutant broccoli, they wound up at North Vancouver's Mallard Power Systems along with their automotive consultant, Chuck War.
The three Leaguers were being toured around the Mallard labs and production facilities by a small crowd of Mallard employees, all wearing large green buttons reading "Boost For Hydrogen". The tour peaked Hydrogen Guy's and Deuterium Boy's scientific, and Chuck's mechanical, interests. The Mallardians were thrilled to see them, all being confessed fans, and they showered them with T-shirts, buttons, coffee mugs and biscotti.
Brian the Guide
That's about it for the development labs. We have a prototype ready, if you'd like to see it.
Hydrogen Guy
Definitely.
Brian the Guide
Right this way...
A few moments later, the group emerged into a large garage-like room. In the centre of the room, under optimal display lighting, was –
Deuterium Boy
A station wagon?
It was the closest available description, despite its sleek curves and the two cylindrical, jet-like projections just above the rear fenders. The car was painted Hydrogen Guy blue, with racing stripes in orange (for Deuterium Boy) and green (for Mallard Power Systems). "Powered by Mallard Fuel Cells" was written on the sides in white sans-serif.
Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy walked around it speculatively, while Chuck War began peering at it more critically.
Hydrogen Guy
It'll have a lot of cup-holders.
Brian the Guide
It's a Byzantium QZX 333 Hatchback. Byzantium Motors is one of our corporate partners.
Chuck War
My brother has one. They're not bad cars... Can you pop the hood?
Brian the Guide
Sure.
Deuterium Boy
So the car is powered by how many hydrogen fuel cells?
Brian the Guide
Three. A fourth is dedicated to running the power intensive non-automotive systems, such as the on-board computer, long range communications and weapons. None of those have been installed
yet.
Chuck War
I see you've already installed turbo jets and the weapons hard points, though.
Brian the Guide
Actually, those are standard on the QZX hatchback.
They continued discussing points about the hydrogen fuel cells, specifically, the availability of fuel, and what should happen if the car should run low in the field. Brian explained that the car also contained an array of batteries which would allow the car to continue to operate on reduced power until they could return to the Cave.
Hydrogen Guy
That could still be a problem. Chances are that if we did run out of fuel, it would be in a situation where we desperately needed those power intensive systems you were talking about.
Deuterium Boy
Chuck, you're sure you couldn't weasel a water-fusion generator out of GC? Just a small one for back-up?
Chuck War
Err... well, I suppose one could disappear from a "damaged" probe or something. I couldn't let Mallard install it, though, on the chance they could figure out how it worked. They're engineers,
after all.
Brian the Guide
Just tell us how big of a hole to leave and where to put the power contacts, and you can install it yourself, if you want. But honestly, if you make sure the hydrogen fuel's topped up each time
you leave the Cave, I can't imagine that you'd run out, even if you operated at maximum capacity for twenty-four hours.
Hydrogen Guy
Mm-hm... Well, I think that's all we need to know for now. DB? Chuck? Okay. Just give us a moment to confer, Brian.
The Leaguers huddled together and discussed in whispers for a few minutes. Finally, Hydrogen Guy turned back to their hosts.
Hydrogen Guy
Well, we're still a ways from making a final decision, and we still have other groups to meet with, but we're very impressed with what you've shown us.
Brian the Guide
Thank you very much! Hydrogen Guy, our company's founder, Drake Mallard, is here today, and he's very keen to meet you. He's always been a big fan of your exploits. Do you have time?
Hydrogen Guy
Sure! We'd love to meet him.
Brian alone was to go in with them, and so they took their warmly leave of the rest of the party, accepting more fridge magnets and biscotti on the way. Brian led them out of the garage into the building's office precinct.
Deuterium Boy
I didn't think Mr. Mallard was still around.
Brian the Guide
He doesn't make public appearances. Even since he and his nephews started the company, he's left that kind of thing to someone else.
Hydrogen Guy
Values his privacy?
Brian the Guide
That he does. He prefers engines to people, as a general rule. But as I said, he's very eager to meet you three.
It took some time to reach Mallard's inner offices. Their progress seemed labyrinthine.
Chuck War
He really does value his privacy, doesn't he?
Brian the Guide
We're almost there.
They arrived in an office where a secretary sat just in front a pair of large oak doors. Brian told the secretary, a comically spinsterish woman with a bun and glasses, that they were there for Mr. Mallard. She picked up the phone and pressed a button, held the nearly oversized hand-set silently to her ear for several seconds, then replaced it gently on the cradle.
Secretary
You may go in when ready.
Brian the Guide
Thanks, Irma. Now, Mr. Mallard has a very heavy accent, so I'll have to translate for you. Ah.. none of you are... disturbed by taxidermy are you?
Hydrogen Guy
Uh... no...
Brian the Guide
Great. Okay, let's go...
They exited Drake Mallard's office about fifteen minutes later. Hydrogen Guy's smile was frozen on his face, and Deuterium Boy looked distinctly pale. Chuck War immediately excused himself and went into the far corner of the room, where he produced a dictaphone from his equipment belt and started recording a hushed memo.
Hydrogen Guy
Well...
Brian the Guide
Ah... well, thanks a lot for coming by, he was very happy to see you.
Hydrogen Guy
Yeah, I think I caught that. He seems very, ah, personable.
Brian the Guide
Oh, very, very, ha ha... always qua– cracking jokes, ha ha...
Hydrogen Guy
I, uh, didn't catch that last thing he said.
Brian the Guide
When?
Hydrogen Guy
When he was shaking my hand, just as we were leaving? You didn't translate it.
Brian the Guide
Ah –
Deuterium Boy
Something about "P'toultru".
Brian the Guide
No! No, no, it was, ah, "to meet you"! So glad to meet you! That was it.
Hydrogen Guy
Nothing whatsoever about the monstrous pigeon thing P'toultru, who slumbers undying beneath the city of London?
Brian the Guide
No no no, nothing at all! What a ridiculous thing to suggest!
Hydrogen Guy
Right. Okay. Well, thanks, Brian... we'll be in touch.
Brian the Guide
But – uh – supposing Mr. Mallard was an acolyte of the Dark Poultry God – uh, you wouldn't hold his religion against him, would you?
Hydrogen Guy
We'll be in touch, Brian.
They walked back down the hall. Chuck War's backward glance informed Brian that Galactic Customs may also be in touch sometime soon.
Brian the Guide
Nuts.
Dr. Gabriel Philips was not like other medical doctors. Although he was always discreet about his cases and clients, he made no special efforts his differences from his colleagues. One of the most important things he told his patients was how unhealthy it was to hide their differences.
Dr. Philips specialized in the physiology and psychology of meta-humans, with an emphasis on the psychological aspects of meta-power emergence. He was widely acknowledged as one of the pioneers in the field. He now worked almost exclusively for ICBC, although he still took private cases.
His consultation room was a cozy little office, designed to both make his visitors feel at home and impress them with his credentials. Philips sat in a worn, striped armchair , and Hans-Raoul perched uncertainly on the edge of a leather couch.
Philips
How are you, Hans-Raoul?
Hans-Raoul
Fine, fine... and how are you, Doctor?
Philips
Oh, very well, thank you.
They sat silently for a moment.
Hans-Raoul
I was wondering if you would be available for a special project.
Philips
What sort of project would this be?
Hans-Raoul
You remember my secretary, Robyn Cheung?
Philips
Yes... as I recall, you were bringing her to see me about some meta-human behaviour she'd recently been exhibiting. Then she disappeared after killing several men.
Hans-Raoul
That's right.
Philips
It was a very unfortunate situation. It's always frustrating, as a medical doctor, to lose a patient, even more so before one even sees her.
Hans-Raoul
We've found her. The project is one to bring her home.
Philips
Mm hmm. Tell me about it.
Hans-Raoul
I know that you've seen my personnel file, so you know about the excursion to the Plane of Aybabtu.
Philips
Yes...
He said it tentatively as if to say, "Yes, I'm aware that you believe you went to an Infernal Plane of Existence and were tortured by the Devil". Hans-Raoul tried not to show this attitude annoyed him.
Hans-Raoul
Robyn brought something back with her - a demon called Azoni, which has now taken possession of her.
Philips jotted a few notes in the notebook he held in his lap.
Philips
I see...
Hans-Raoul
I'm currently on leave from the Corporation, so –
Philips
Compassionate leave, I understand?
Hans-Raoul
I'm sorry?
Philips
You say you're on leave from ICBC... I understand it's a compassionate leave? For reasons of your own emotional well-being?
Hans-Raoul
Well, yes, if you want to put it that way, but –
Philips
You've been having difficulty coping with Robyn's loss.
Hans-Raoul
Doctor, I didn't come here for therapy. My team is going to summon Azoni, trap it, and force the demon to leave her. I want you there to pick up the pieces.
Philips
The pieces of Robyn's mind.
Hans-Raoul
Yes.
Philips
And what about your own mind, Hans-Raoul?
Hans-Raoul
That's none of your business.
Philips
I may be able to help you with some of the feelings you've been experiencing, that are interfering with your duties.
Hans-Raoul
I don't think so, Doctor. My mind is on a level far beyond yours. You'd no more be able to analyse me than a tree shrew could analyse you.
Philips made more notes.
Philips
You may well be right, Hans-Raoul. But surely this attachment you have for Robyn, your love for her, surely this is a mortal, human feeling? I'm offering to help you from a human perspective.
Hans-Raoul
Doctor, if a mortal on the Column persisted in speaking to me as you have done, I would be well within my rights to personally beat him to death. I suggest you drop it. Otherwise, I may forget we
are not on the Column.
The psychologist did not deign to react. He had been threatened far more vigorously and urgently by patients in the past.
Philips
I'm sorry. I can see I've pushed too far... What kind of time frame did you have in mind for your project?
Hans-Raoul
I want to be able to perform the summoning within a week, at most two. Some technical preparations need to be made first.
Philips
Mm hm.
Another note.
Philips
Well, my schedule is fairly open, aside from my regular patients, which I have fewer of than usual at the moment. I should be able to fit your project in. The sooner you have a firm date,
however, the better. I assume you want to cover this under Robyn's ICBC health plan?
Hans-Raoul
Yes. Anything that goes beyond that, I'll pay for personally.
Philips nodded sagely. He was always at his best, he felt, when discussing modes of payment.
Hans-Raoul
There's a meeting tonight at eight to discuss the technical aspects of the project. You're welcome to come.
He gave the doctor the card. He was trying now to be conciliatory.
Philips
Thank you, I will.
Hans-Raoul rose, and the doctor followed. Hans-Raoul was about to begin the formula of leave-taking when he paused.
Hans-Raoul
One other thing, Doctor... You've dealt with post-possession cases before?
Philips
A few, yes.
Hans-Raoul
I've been recruiting for the project all day. This morning we visited one of the people I hope to involve, a woman who almost coincidentally had an experience similar to Robyn's at about the same
time. Though the entity which possessed her is dead, today she used some of its powers. Quite involuntarily, I think.
Philips
Really.
Hans-Raoul
Is that kind of thing common?
Philips
It's not unheard of. Sometimes these residual powers are permanent, sometimes they fade away with time. Much obviously depends on the nature of the possessing entity. Whether it will happen to
Robyn or not, your demonology expert may be able to answer better than I. Regardless, we'll have to give Robyn a number of tests.
Hans-Raoul
I see... thank you.
Philips
Er... if it's not a breach of confidentiality, Hans-Raoul, who is the woman to whom you were referring? What were the circumstances?
Hans-Raoul
Well, I suppose you'll meet her tonight, so I may as well tell you. Her name is Sally Kettle. She was possessed by the Ice Witch. She became angry with us and made her flower shop frost over.
Philips
I see... that's very interesting. Ah well, I was merely curious. I'll see you this evening, then?
Hans-Raoul
Eight o'clock.
Philips
Until then.
He smiled genially as he showed Hans-Raoul to the door. After his visitor was gone, he paused, as if in uffish thought, and then turned to his bookcase.
Next Episode: The Meeting!
Stay tuned for Part III of...
Same Hydrogen Time... Same Hydrogen Website!