Guardian_Beacon

I think every muscle in my body froze at that instant. My mind locked them all down to focus all of its attention on the question put to me by Pax. Would I be a hero? And not just any hero, would I accept Guardian Beacon’s challenge to become a Galaxy Guardian? That stupid cliché about one’s life passing before your eyes actually happened then. I could see the history of my life, the chances I never took, the opportunities I let walk right by, the times when just a little bit more effort would have let me achieve something quite extraordinary, but I had just coasted by with the minimum. It was an endless recitation of everything I had hated about my life before I had met Tom Strong, and everything I had worked to change since then.

It was clearly a matter of my choice. Taking the next step. Striving for something, even at the risk of failing. After all that had been given to me, the love of two wonderful parents, the support of my siblings, the advice and mentoring of Tom Strong, even the challenge put to me by Guardian Beacon of Brindar, how could I possibly stand aside and claim that I had no responsibility.

And just that fast, it happened, I could sense the warmth from the Gem Shard grow, until it overwhelmed me. I felt like I had been put in front of the most wonderful fireplace in the world, and slowly warmed to that temperature where everything feels quite nice. And suddenly, the sensation shifted. Now it was more like the electrical charge I had experienced earlier. I could feel the energy flowing through my muscles and bones, creating a body-wide tingling effect that was almost perceptible through my skin. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, that the charge would overwhelm me and turn into pain, Guardian Beacon’s Gem Shard flashed once again, just as it had when I had been searching for it. But this time I had no need to squint my eyes shut. This time it lit the room with a light far different than what I was used to.

The blue-tinged flare seemed to last quite a long time, but I could see Jonathan in front of me, his eyes closing ever so slowly, barely perceptible as even movement. And somehow, inside of Pax, but still a part of him, I could see his energy, his spirit. For me, and with what I believe, it was his soul. And that soul was a clear, blue source of its own light, catching and reflecting the light that the Gem Shard was releasing.

Turning, I looked at Jasra and saw the same slow-motion effect had taken hold of her. I walked two steps closer to her and marveled, for inside her as well, in the very depths of her being, I could see her soul. And it to shined and reflected back the light of the Gem Shard, but in a clear, deep violet color, and somehow, without knowing how, I knew that the different colors reflected the souls of the two different species before me, and both were easily recognizable as noble souls, free from both lies and from self-deception as well.

As I looked down at myself, I saw the same blue reflection pulsing out from me, and as if I was watching the mist recede from the edges of a warming windshield, I saw the cloudy portion of that reflection being pushed back by the pulse of that blue light, until it shone with the same clear, piercing light that I saw in Jasra and Pax. I took several steps towards the window in Pax’s office, and stared at my reflection in the glass, the spinning globe of the Earth in the distance beyond. I could see little physically different in myself, but I could feel the change. And I had no doubts, I had become a Galaxy Guardian!

The blue glow began to fade from the Shard in my hand, and I turned to see Pax and Jasra looking at me across the room. Both still in the places they had been when the flash first hit. As I looked at them, both broke into wide smiles.

“I saw …” I began to say, but Pax held up his hand and I stopped.

“I told you before Stuart, every Guardian has a unique gift bestowed upon them by their Gem Shard. Some use this gift quite frequently, others not so often. But this gift is vital to the trials you will face as a Galaxy Guardian. You may one day choose to share what that gift is, but you will need to learn more about it before you make that choice. Right now, it is quite obvious that you have accepted the challenge that is the life of a Guardian.” Even before I could question him, he simply pointed to the Shard in my hand. Where before it had flickered, seeming to reflect some far distant source of light intermittently, now it shone clearly, bright and piercing, with no wavering of its source visible.

“The Shard has made its connection with the Galaxy Gem. You now have access to the enhanced abilities it has given all Terrans. These are different from the gift I just mentioned. These are things that will help you in your responsibilities as a member of the Galaxy Guardians. You’ll find that you can run quite faster than normal humans, for quite extended lengths of time. You’ll also notice a gradual increase in your base strength. You’ll never be Superman, unless the Gem concentrates on enhancing your strength, but you can easily exceed any level of physical fitness a normal Terran could ever hope to attain. You’ll also notice the ability to jump higher than normal, and you can withstand falls from far greater distances before you injure yourself.”

“The Shard will also begin to manifest additional powers within you,” added Jasra. “These usually fall into common categories relating to battle, such as ranged or melee attack specialties, or defensive powers, some Guardians even find they have the ability to heal themselves or others and offer support in less direct ways. As you spend more time connected to your Gem Shard, and to the Galaxy Gem through it, you will find your abilities strengthen, and you’ll discover new abilities. We’ve already seen that you have the capacity for significant levels of speed.”

I nodded, the ‘slow-motion’ effect I had observed in Pax and Jasra must actually be a hyper-increase in my own speed. I turned quickly again, trying to see if I replicate the effect, but I didn’t sense the same concept of slow-motion again. After a few attempts, I realized that I must look like a dog chasing its own tail and turned to face Jasra and Pax. Both were indeed smiling at me, Jasra having sat back down in the chair and turned it to face me, and Pax having walked to the end of the desk and sat on its edge.

“Don’t worry,” said Jasra. “That level of speed control takes some time to develop. The Shard artificially boosted your skill temporarily in order to allow you the time you needed to make your decision. As you progress in your training as a Galaxy Guardian, you’ll rediscover that speed, and how to manipulate it consciously. For now, we have some serious logistical matters to figure out. We know that you’re currently unemployed, so that actually makes things easier. No worries about suddenly quitting a job. But you do own property, if I’m not mistaken. I can’t make any long-term recommendations about what you should do with that, but for now, I would hang on to it until you get a better idea of what kind of Guardian you’ll end up as. Some Guardians never leave their home system, remaining permanently tasked as defenders. Others are called away regularly on Guardian Command business, never sure where they’ll be sent next. Until you discover which you’re likely to be, it’s worth keeping your building.”

I nodded in agreement. It made sense, and besides, I didn’t have any kids, but my siblings all had several children, and I knew some of them would be able to use my place as cheap housing while attending university. It was one way that I would be able to assist my family. My family! What would I tell them? How would they take this? Just as I turned to Pax to raise these questions, he began to speak.

“Once we get your quarters here set up, and get you a GG communicator and teleport tag,” the thought of the telporter turned my stomach, “I’d recommend that you spend a week or so with you family. Jasra mentioned that you talked about them several times on your way here from the teleporter room, so you obviously are close to them. Call a family meeting and explain everything to them. It won’t be easy, but you’ll find that support from home can be vital. Also, the Galaxy Guardians provide each member with a Gem Pulse communications set. Normally Gem Pulses are used to communicate with Guardian Central Command, but Gem Pulse communications sets are actually based on tech that was derived from the Galaxy Gem itself. Every once in a while, a Gem Shard is left from a fallen Guardian that doesn’t attract a new Guardian. When a Shard has been dormant for several years, Guardian scientists use it to create Gem Pulse communication sets. They carefully identify the geometric pattern lines in the Shard and, using hypersonic frequencies, they shatter the Shard into thousands of perfectly identical Gem chips. Chips are paired and placed into matching Gem Pulse communication sets that pass individualized frequencies through the Gem chip. Matching sets resonate on the same frequency and allow individuals on either side to conduct real-time communications across the galaxy. You can take one to your family and they’ll be able to keep in touch with you without having to worry about long-distance or calling cards! The sets include a visual pick-up, so it’s like all the old sci-fi you read about with video phones!”

Pax walked back around the desk and sat back in his chair. “That about covers all I can tell you right now. Jasra will take you back to your home to allow you to pack some things before your trip to your folks’ place. She’ll also issue you the items you need to get back here. From now on, you need to keep your Gem Shard with you at all times. The belt is a good way to wear it during combat, but you can transport it however you like on your off-time.”

Pax leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. “There’s just one thing left to decide Stuart. Each and every Guardian has a name they assume on becoming a Guardian. It doesn’t have to be fancy, I simply adopted my last name, but you have the choice. Do you know what your name will be?”

I hadn’t even thought that I might get to pick a name. The only living Guardians I had met had both used parts of their names for their Guardian ‘call sign.’ I had assumed I’d end up as ‘Guardian Stuart’ or something similarly uninspiring, if I joined. But knowing that I had a choice, there was never any doubt.

“Tell Guardian Central Command that Guardian Beacon of Brindar has passed on. And let them know that Guardian Beacon is reporting for duty in Terran Sector!”

[OOC: end of chapter two - let me know what you think - thanks, GB]

“Good to finally meet you, Mr. Johnson.” His voice boomed, even in the quite spacious Command Lounge, as he stood and walked around the dest to shake my hand. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Jasra, and I even have a personal knowledge of your work at Araña Technologies, though you would never have known of it.”

After the past few hours, I had simply ceased to be capable of being surprised. Teleporters, space stations, aliens and functioning robots had all overwhelmed my shock level. So finding out that the apparent head of the intergalactic Galaxy Guardians knew about me before I even met the alien being now known to me as Guardian Beacon simply prompted a nod from me.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson, “

“Please, call me Stuart.” I might be in shock, but my parents’ lessons on manners had been well-trained into me, and I wasn’t about to stand on formality in this situation.

“Very well, Stuart. I apologize. Even as a Terran myself, I tend to forget how overwhelming one’s first trip to the Guardtower can be. And to tell you I already know of you, well that’s just throwing gasoline on the fire, isn’t it?”

“My name is Jonathan Pax, around here I go by Guardian Pax. I’m the current Terran Sector Council command, but more on that later. To start with, I actually used to be in the US Army, and I worked in Weapons Research and Development. Actually, I worked for Defense Advanced Research Project Agency, which I know you’re familiar with. So you know I can’t talk too much about it, even now.”

I nodded agreement, DARPA was the big leagues when it came to weapon technology and development. And if Jonathan Pax had indeed worked for them, not only did it mean he was a brilliant man, but he also probably had a security clearance several levels higher than the President of the United States.

“We actually used several of your division’s reverse engineering designs of 5th Column weaponry as the basis for some of our more advanced projects. If you had been in the military, you might have found yourself on the other end of an offer for a place in DARPA.” He smiled, recognizing the sense of pride and accomplishment that suffused me on hearing those words. Engineers in DARPA were demigods, to walk among them, even in a management position, was a dream of many men and women far better than I.

“I wish I could take the time to really sit down and talk. I think you and I actually have quite a lot in common, but unfortunately, that will have to wait. Jasra has mentioned that you have some doubts about joining the Guardians. Understandable, considering how you came across your Gem Shard. Let me tell you simply this much. I was in no sense of the word a hero. I had long ago given up that dream, accepting the work I did in the Army as my contribution to the fight to protect not just Paragon City, but civilization has a whole.”

Pax moved back around the desk and sat down, motioning to Jasra and I to take our seats as well on one of the adjacent couches.

“I know Jasra has told you a little of the history of the Galaxy Guardians, but that was in the presence of outsiders, so she had to be rather circumspect. Let me tell you, one Terran to another, what the important parts are.”

Pax leaned back in his chair, obviously thinking about how best to phrase his next several statements.

“The Galaxy Guardians are what the PR says, an intergalactic peacekeeping organization. What we don’t put out for general consumption is that the GGs are actually quite old. At least half a dozen millennia. And during that entire time, they have waged an unceasing war against the tides of darkness that threaten this galaxy, as well as others. It’s nothing as simple as a single entity challenging different planets. Think of it instead as a problem of entropy.” I nodded, entropy was the scientific principle that, absent the constant input of energy, a system, the galaxy for example, tends to a continual state of decay and disorganization. It was one of the most basic principles of science.

“Well, the galaxy, and the civilizations it contains are fighting a losing battle against entropy. That entropy manifests as natural disasters, rebellions and civil wars, and even wars pretty much like what we have had for our entire history on Earth. The difference is that there’s a force in the Galaxy striving to fight that back. Think of the Galaxy Guardians as the outside energy introduced into the system to combat the entropy.”

“Ok, wait a sec.” I protested. “I understand the analogy, and it makes more sense than anything I’ve heard so far, but what does that have to do with the crystal thing that Guardian Beacon gave me. I think Jasra called it a Gem Shard?”

While Pax nodded his understanding of the question, Jasra stood up and approached with the golden belt and light blue gem that had been stored among Guardian Beacon’s personal effects and had been handed over by Detectives Castle and Jones.

“Simply put, Stuart, far smarter species than ours have been trying to figure that out for millennia, and we still only have guesses. This much we know. The Galaxy Gem is a trans-dimension object, existing outside our normal concepts of space-time. Some theorize it is tapped into what Terran science fiction has called ‘subspace’, others believe that it represents a collection of non-corporeal energy from a society that reached some form of transcendence quite a long time ago. Regardless of which you choose to believe, we know that the Gem is sentient in some fashion. We can’t figure out if it’s hyper-sentient, or only partially sentient. Whichever it is, it seems to work on a conceptual level different not only from how a human perceives reality, but also from how every other sentient species in this galaxy and the known universe perceives their realities as well.”

“So we have a super-sentient entity, which is none-the-less an organic element, with measurable energy output and crystalline properties. Including the manufacturing and releasing of fragments of itself, perfect replications of its physical form in miniature. We call these Gem Shards. Somehow, either through subspace or the energy of the originators, or simply through the belief of the Galaxy Guardians, Gem Shards pass along powers to select individuals. There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to why someone is chosen to be able to wield the power of the Galaxy Gem, but make no mistake Stuart, the Galaxy Gem is never wrong.”

I sat back in the comfortable leather of the couch, trying to regain my mental equilibrium. Trans-dimensional, super-sentient crystals seemed small fries when you went on to tell me that I had been individually picked by that same galactic rock.

“Guardian Pax, I respect the obvious enthusiasm you have for this work, and the faith you have in the Gem, but you don’t understand. I’m a glorified office worker. I do paperwork all day. I’m not a Galaxy Guardian. I have no super powers, no X-ray bolts from my eyes, none of that. I can’t be a Guardian. I just don’t know how.”

“Don’t worry about that, Stuart,” Pax replied. “The Gem itself is the source of our powers. Jasra told you about how Gem Shards only respond to the Guardian they are attuned to?” I nodded assent and Pax continued. “Well, your description of what happened in your vision of Guardian Beacon and the physical reaction you experienced when you touched the Shard both point to what we call ‘transference’. Simply put, the Gem Shard that Guardian Beacon was carrying recognized you as an individual worthy of carrying that particular Shard. It may very well be that you are to become the next Guardian Beacon. Sometimes shards carry on impressions and memories from previous Guardians. Sometimes Shards shatter at the death of their Guardian. We can’t seem to tell which will happen. But this is the clearest case of transference we’ve seen so far on Earth. Come over here for a moment, Stuart.”

As I got up and walked to the dest, Pax stood up and placed the gold belt and gem on the desk.

“Hold your hand over the shard and belt. Tell me, do you feel anything from them?” Pax studied me closely as I shrugged and held my hand out over the belt. I remembered the feeling from when I first touched the Shard, the not-quite electric shock when I had removed it from the belt. But that feeling flashed over my whole body, like a shiver when your cold at winter, and seemed to settle not in the palm of my hand outstretched over the gem, but somewhere in the middle of my back.

Just as I was about to shake my head no, I winced, closing my eyes as tightly as possible, startled by a brilliant blue flash that came from behind me.

“That, Stuart, proves the point. The belt and Shard on the desk are unclaimed. Removed from a fallen comrade. The Shard you took off of Guardian Beacon’s cryo-sleep coffin were in Jasra’s possession. Any Guardian can call a special power from their Shard. It seems safe to bet that Guardian Beacon, as his name implied, was capable of calling forth some form of light control. The Shard responded to your query. You asked it if it was sitting on the desk, not in so many words, but your intent, manufactured by me, was clear. The Shard responded by informing you of its location. Did you feel anything?” He grinned at my sheepish admission that I had indeed felt a tingling in my back, where Jasra had been seated.

“Trust me, Stuart. I know this all seems overwhelming and scary-weird, but you have been chosen to be a Galaxy Guardian. You’ve been given the chance to be a hero. It’s up to you whether you’ll accept.”

With that, Pax sat back down at the desk and Jasra approached and placed the Shard from Guardian Beacon in my still outstretched palm. I felt the familiar tingle spread up my arm, sending a sense of warmth into my torso. I stood there, quite aware that the next words out of my mouth would change my life forever.

I would describe what being inside a teleporter beam for the first time looked like, except that I had my eyes closed as tightly as possible, fully expecting to not be able to open them up again. But there was a definite sensation to the process, and I’m not sure what it reminds me of, but it will come to me eventually. Whatever it is, it’s definitely noticeable when it goes away. So I figured that I could open my eyes, because surely that meant that the worst was over. Wrong.

About the time I decided to have a peek at my surroundings, Jasra spoke up again. “Please remain still Stuart. The Core Computer is conducting a medical scan.”

At this, my eyes went from bare slits to wide open. Just in time for a searing white light to shine directly into them. Squinting them shut in defense, I heard Jasra explaining.

“Many different alien species reside in the Guardtower. With so much interaction, we have to be very careful about exposure to harmful microbiotics. Everyone teleported into the Guardtower is automatically screened and removed of any bacteria or viruses that we have catalogued as being dangerous to one of our Guardians. New arrivals, such as yourself, have a full body scan performed by our central computer, the Core, and its results are stored in memory and used as a template for each subsequent transport. That information is, of course, kept under the strictest confidences. If you stay with the Guardians, you’ll receive a full medical checkout, and that scan will replace this one. There, the imager has finished. You can step out now.”

I stepped down off what looked like a circular platform that stood alone in the room I was currently in. The room was almost dazzlingly white, and not a painted white, but the white that one associates with very sterile environments. Gleaming surfaces were interrupted only be a few display screens and what looked like a touch keyboard mounted into the wall.

As I walked towards Jasra, who was apparently studying one of the diagnostic screens on the wall, I noticed a section of the wall that had a faint vertical line. Looking closer, I could gradually make out the outline of a door, designed somewhat like a supermarket entrance door, except there were no glass planes. An exit, I assumed.

“Well, looks like you carry nothing more than the full complement of human bacteria and viruses, though the teleporter did pull out the makings of a very bad head cold that you would have come down with in a couple of days.” She turned and smiled, “One of the benefits of being a Guardian.” Motioning to the area I suspected to be an exit, she asked “Shall we go?”

I walked somewhat hesitantly towards the faint outline and, even though I was expecting it, I was still mildly startled when the door split and slid back into sections in the wall itself. If the interior of the teleport center was austere and unfeeling, the corridor beyond was instantly comforting, somehow suggesting an inviting warmth and welcoming.

I walked into the hallway and immediately noticed the pronounced curvature to the walls. Wherever we were, there was no mistaking that the building was cylindrical in design. A few more steps revealed a simple pattern on the carpeted floor, which, after a second, resolved itself into a possible map design. The four differently colored lines ran parallel down the hallway, but I could see in the distance where one veered off down a corridor, presumably leading an individual to the corresponding room or area.

“We ‘ported into the Earth section of the Guardtower. The station is designed to hold many species of sentient beings, as well as a series of Guardianbots. There are sections of the tower that are designed to make the inhabitants feel more comfortable. My species had little use for décor, so I make my home in the Earth section. You are welcome in any other sections of the Guardtower upon invitation, but I must warn you, what is considered calming for some species that reside here may have a severe impact on a human psyche. Basically, if you stick to the blue color-coded sections of the tower, you’ll be fine.”

We started walking down the corridor, Jasra pointing out a few noteworthy areas as we passed out of the comfortable area and transitioned into a noticeably more neutral hallway design. I was shown the entrances to the communal area and marveled at the wide diversity of design. What was even more jolting was the view of a group of individuals, some human and some not, sitting around playing what looked to be a game console of some kind. “We try to provide a relaxing environment in the Guardtower, and we’ve discovered that games have a tendency to relieve some of the stress and tension of a Guardian’s life. And besides,” Jasra smiled, “Most species don’t have as much dedicated technology going to games as Earth does. So for many of us, coming here was our first introduction to video games.” I shook my head as we continued. It seemed surreal that a galactic peacekeeping organization with branches spanning the entire realm of space would come to Earth and be fascinated with a PS2 console!

We passed a couple of other areas that Jasra simply described; the fitness gym, the kitchen, and even an arboretum!

“The golden track leads to our Command Center.” Jasra commented. “It’s here that the main access terminals are for the Core Computer. We also maintain a ‘round the clock’ watch over Paragon City, monitoring hot spots in the city, and occasionally directing Guardians currently on patrol to areas that need special attention. Normally though, Guardians engage in roving patrols, simply covering the areas of the city where they know there to be specific problems, often following up on tips from their own personal contacts in the city.”

With that, we rounded a bend and stopped in front of another set of automatic doors. “The entrance to the command center is coded to recognize the resonate frequency of an individual Guardian’s Gem Shard. So the Core Computer identifies me by the unique frequency that my Shard resonates at, and identifies me as authorized to enter the Command Center. The Core Computer will also identify resonate frequency of the Shard from Guardian Beacon’s belt, but it has not been assigned a Guardian in the Core’s database, and so will not trigger the door to open. We need to grant you special access for right now. Computer, identify Stuart Johnson, admit temporary access to Command Center on my authorization.”

Several seconds passed, and then a small panel on the wall next to the door lit and the words “Orders received. Access granted.” scrolled down the screen. With that, the doors slid apart and we stepped into the Command Center.

It was immediately obvious that the Command Center was set up for occupation by multiple persons for long periods of time. There was a large open area that had several readily identifiable tables, although some of the chairs were hardly recognizable as such. Off to one side, there was what looked to be a small food storage area. To be fair, I only recognized it as such because there was a human (it was still amazing me that I had to qualify the species of individual I saw!) in a uniform just like Jasra’s leaving the alcove with a plate heaped with steaming food. Jasra nodded in his direction, but we continued past towards the main computer display in the room. Easily twelve feet high, the monitor seemed to flicker between different views faster than my eyes could follow.

As we passed by the monitor I was amazed by the large robot occupying the operator’s seat. Gleaming metal plating caught the ambient lighting of the room and threw sparkling designs all over that portion of the Command Center. The shape was generally humanoid, though easily larger in sheer mass than any human I’d ever seen. The head region was covered by what looked like a helmet, though, if this really was a robot, it would be more accurate to describe it as the ‘skin’ I guess. Emblazoned on the front of the robot was the same symbol displayed on Jasra’s uniform; the same symbol I had seen on Guardian Beacon’s chest. So the Galaxy Guardians apparently included robots. And simply on design, these robots were much more complex than even the prototype designs we had been working on at Araña. I longed to stop and talk to it, figure out if it was sentient, what its base programming was, all that wonderful reverse engineering stuff that I lived for. But Jasra was striding on towards an alcove at the back of the Command Center.

Tearing myself away from what I assumed was an example of the aforementioned ‘Guardianbots’, I followed Jasra into the alcove at the back of the Command Center. We stepped onto what was appeared to be some kind of lift. It was semi-circular in design, and had what looked like stainless steel guide rails around three-quarters of the circumfrence. As we both turned to face back the way we had come from, Guardian Jasra said “Command Lounge” and the lift began to move.

Even though I could see the movement with my eyes, watching the floor outside the lift appear to rise up to meet us, it still felt like I was standing perfectly still. The technology driving this lift must be better than anything humanity had ever designed. The inertial dampening was just perfect! Of course, human scientists had known for years that all of our best ideas for space travel, FTL or no, required the basic concept of inertial dampening to work. But we had never gotten close to solving it. And the tech was so basic to this organization that they used it on their elevators!

As we dropped past the level of the floor, Guardian Jasra turned to me again. “Prepare yourself, Stuart. Every single Terran that we have brought to the Command Lounge has been significantly affected by what you are about to see. We cannot predict individual reactions, so please let me know if you are alarmed or frightened.”

Slightly worried by this warning, I began to scan our environment. We were actually descending in a clear tube from the bottom of the Command Center; I could clearly see the layers of material change as the base of the floor of the CC gave way and the utility space beneath it flashed by. And suddenly, the clear tube was no longer inside anything anymore. It was way outside. Outside as in outer space. I was standing on a lift, descending at an incredible rate, judging from the exterior view even though I couldn’t feel that, and the only thing between me and the vacuum of space was whatever the plexiglass surrounding me was made from!

In every direction, I could see stars shining brilliantly, much brighter then how you could see them from Earth’s surface. And as I turned, the clear material darkened in the direction that the sun was, making its rays bearable. Nor did I notice any kind of temperature change. The technology involved in creating this kind of ride was mind-boggling. And, since words fail to come close to describing the view, what I was seeing was simply staggering. Forget $1 million bucks for a space plane ride, people would sell their entire possessions to get to ride this, just once. It remains to this day the most beautiful scene I’ve ever beheld. The Earth appeared magnificent, hanging in the vastness of space from some celestial thread. Wisps of clouds drifted across its surface, and I marveled at how tiny I was in comparison to that.

Guardian Jasra spoke behind me. “Well, you’re heart-rate’s up, and your breathing’s increased in speed, but you seem to be doing fine. That’s the usual Terran reaction, but we did have one agoraphobic person who nearly had to be sedated before the lift walls could opaque.” Turning, she joined me in looking at the Earth. “It really is quite amazing, Stuart. I’ve seen hundreds of other worlds, inhabited and un-inhabited, and not a single one has more obvious signs of life on it than Earth. We chose blue for the guiding color for Terrans for a reason, there simply is no other planet with as free of a water supply as Earth.”

I could only nod in understanding. The sight actually caused my heart to ache. Yes, I know how clichéd that is, but it’s true. The sight of the earth like that, clearly defined against the endless black of space, tugged at me on a level far deeper than I was able to identify. I finally tore my eyes away from the wonders of the Earth viewed from this perspective, and completed my turn in the tube. And lo and behold, the second shock.

From the moment we had cleared the Guardtower structure, I could see the line of the translucent tube extending down, although the solid floor of the lift had blocked my view of our final destination. But scanning the remaining view out the tube exposed what exactly the Guardtower was.

I mean, it was obvious that we were in a space platform of some kind. And, even though I hadn’t thought of it, I had just assumed that it was some kind of stationary construction, like the International Space Station. But seeing the face on profile of the Guardtower, it was obvious that it had originally served as a ship of some sort. Presumably one capable of intergalactic travel. But the design had clearly been created to allow the ship to serve as a permanent base of operations once it had arrived at its destination. There were elements of the Guardtower I couldn’t see, but from what I could observe, I could identify several hanger bays for what must be smaller ships, a clearly defined engine section, now pointing towards the gravity center (Earth), and a long connecting neck between the command center and hanger bays and what I assumed was the living quarters. And it was all a gleaming, blinding white. Catching and reflecting the Sun’s rays in a dazzling display that would easily have blinded had it not been for the self-correcting protection of the tube.

I was still entranced by this scene as the lift descended through another set of utility spaces and then exited the clear tube to come to rest in what generally looked like a rather North American office design. The lift came to a stop, having never once felt like it was moving, and the gap in the safety rails opened up again. I pretty much followed Jasra out of the lift on blind instinct. I was simply too overwhelmed by what I had just seen.

I had a million questions I wanted to ask Jasra about the Guardtower. Its specs, its construction and maintenance, all the engineering calculations I had picked up from working with the people in my division swirling around in my head. But it was somehow apparent that this wasn’t the time. We walked across the plush carpet, which had the Galaxy Guardians’ gold star in a circle of black insignia sewed right in, past a conference room just visible through a doorway to the left, and approached a desk at the other end of the room. There was another Galaxy Guardian there and he appeared to be human. Black, mid 40s, and obviously frustrated with the job of sitting behind the desk. He looked up as we approached.

The morning came quickly enough, and I showered and dressed hurriedly. I had been wearing suits to the previous meetings with the police, especially when ADA Drew was going to be present, but today I dressed casually. A pair of dark trousers and a comfortable sweater seemed to be a much better choice. As I left my loft and drove towards downtown, I realized that my usual nervousness about important meetings was dissipating. I had no idea why, but my confidence that this would all work out in some fashion was increasing as I got closer to precinct headquarters.

As I arrived, I began to get slightly nervous. Tom had called late last night and told me he couldn’t make it. His little girl had gone to the ER with appendicitis, so I was pretty much on my own. Entering the precinct headquarters, it was easy to guess that Guardian Jasra had beaten me to the meeting. There was quite a throng of uniformed police officers, both male and female, gathered around the entrance to the interview wing.

“… from Paragon City …”

“ … seen anyone like her before? …”

“ … heard of them. They’re called the Galaxy Guardians …”

I picked up snippets from the conversations flying around the hallway as I headed towards the desk sergeant to check in. After signing into the log book, I headed back to interview room 5, where I had been told our meeting would take place. As I rounded the turn in the corridor, I pulled up short at the sight of two armed officers outside the room. It was apparent they were straining to hear any trace of the conversation that was going on inside, but interview rooms are built to be soundproof, and they knew they were wasting their time. It didn’t stop them from trying, though.

I showed my visitor’s pass to the cop on the left and he checked it against his list, nodded his head, and then knocked on the door and waited a moment before opening to let me in. I’ll never forget the sight that greeted me for the rest of my life.

Detectives Castle and Jones were two of the toughest cops I had ever met. And I had met a fair number in my jaunts to find abandoned weapon caches to reverse engineer. Either one of them was capable of chewing nails for breakfast and asking for battery acid to wash them down. They were as tough as they come. So the sight of them sitting at a table, staring at someone like two dogs panting on a hot day, even a woman as obviously beautiful as Guardian Jasra must be to get such a reaction, was enough to throw me. On top of that, ADA Jessica Drew, a pleasant woman who hid a layer of steel beneath her rather striking exterior, seemed just as taken.

In the second it took for me to absorb this and then turn toward Guardian Jasra, my brain had enough time to register surprise, alarm, and shock, all at the same time. Guardian Jasra was beautiful all right, but she was definitely not the girl next door. Purple hair and orange skin was odd enough, but add the antennae sticking out of her forehead, and it was beyond odd and well on its way to Outer Limits territory.

Guardian Jasra smiled and stood, extending a hand. “Good morning, Mr. Johnson. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

I quickly shook myself out of my stupor and returned Guardian Jasra’s handshake. “Please, call me Stuart. It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well. You didn’t have any difficulty finding the precinct, I take it?”

Guardian Jasra smiled in response, “No, your directions were very helpful.” She turned and addressed the others at the table. “Well, since Stuart has arrived and I’ve met the rest of you already, shall we begin?” An assortment of nods and grunts came from around the table as we all settled into the chairs.

“I’m not sure how much you know about the Galaxy Guardians, and I will explain what I can to help solve some of this mystery, but let me assure you that the presence of the belt and Gem Shard do imply that the Guardians are involved. And from Stuart’s description last night of Guardian Beacon’s uniform, I think that it’s safe to say that Beacon was a Galaxy Guardian.”

“Wait,” interrupted ADA Drew, “you mean you don’t know if he was or not? Don’t you have rosters or records of your membership?”

“A valid question, and one the Galaxy Guardians have been struggling to deal with. Unfortunately, there are several things working against that. For one, we are a galaxy wide organization, and even with our resources, the logistics of such an operation run on that scale would be immense. We do have a central headquarters, but much more of the hands-on organization is taken up by sector commands. Since we do not know which sector Guardian Beacon was originally from, finding his records may be difficult. Additionally, he seems to have been in stasis for some time, which may extend the time it takes to discover the history of Guardian Beacon.”

Scattered nods showed understanding, and Guardian Jasra continued. “Now, as per my request, Detective Castle brought along the belt and Gem Shard that Stuart discovered in the cryogenic capsule housing Guardian Beacon. Galaxy Guardians derive their power from a central source know as the Galaxy Gem. That power is reflected back to individual Guardians through pieces of the Gem known as Shards. I cannot give out too many specifics for security reasons, but it is worth mentioning that Gem Shards only operate in close proximity of the Guardian they are attuned to, and only continue to function, in the absence of the conscious command of a Guardian, to save the life of the Guardian they are attuned to. We can only assume that the Fifth Column overpowered Guardian Beacon and discovered the uselessness of the Gem Shard without the presence of its Guardian. What Beacon was doing on Earth at a time when Guardian Headquarters had no official contact with the planet will most likely remain a mystery.”

Guardian Jasra reached into her carryall and removed a smooth black box that had a depression that looked like a match for the Gem Shard. “This is a Gem Reader. It’s not often used, but when a Guardian dies, regardless of their personal beliefs about their next stage of existence, the Galaxy Gem grants them the ability to record a short message for review. The message can only be accessed using a Gem Reader, and only authorized Guardian stations have one. With this, we’ll be able to view the final message that Guardian Beacon left for us.”

With that, Guardian Jasra held out her hand and accepted the Gem Shard and belt from ADA Drew. A deft maneuver of her fingers had the Gem Shard in the palm of her hand, and she placed it carefully over the depression in the Gem Reader. With a firm push, the fragment clicked audibly into place, and a faint hum filled the room. Suddenly, a column of light appeared, about 6 inches above the Gem Reader’s position on the table, and about eighteen inches high. The column resolved itself until a perfect holographic image of Guardian Beacon appeared, just as I remembered him from my encounter in the warehouse several weeks earlier.

The hologram turned, as if it could see the audience in the room, and bowed. Not like a normal human bow, b/c it was obvious to see that Beacon’s hips didn’t work quite the same way, but the gesture still conveyed obvious elements of a formal greeting.

“The Gem has prompted me to record my final message,” said a projected voice. Again, as before in the warehouse, Guardian Beacon’s mouth did not move, so I assumed that the Gem had somehow recorded his thoughts for us to hear and had converted them into audible speech, though the voice did bear a resemblance to the one I remember hearing in my head during my conversation with the entity earlier. “I do not regret the path that I have taken to reach this destination, and I look forward to the next leg of my travels, but there is still much work to be done in this universe. There is still need of a Guardian Beacon. If this is being viewed, then a Galaxy Guardian is undoubtedly present. They will explain all of the necessary details. Suffice it to say that I have been revived from an imposed cryo-sleep by an earth entity identified to me as Stuart Johnson. There were other humanoids present at my awakening, but the Galaxy Gem has chosen Stuart Johnson of its own volition. If there are local authorities, concerned about my departure, please, do not so concern yourselves. I shall choose the moment at which to end my life, nothing Stuart Johnson or the other earth beings could have done would have been capable of prolonging my existence.”

With that, the holographic figure turned, and seemed to zero in on me. Looking back, I couldn’t say whether the rest of the room heard what was said next or not, but I will never forget the short message left to me by Guardian Beacon.

“Stuart Johnson, you have been chosen by the Galaxy Gem. You may not feel worthy, but do not fear, the Gem chooses wisely. I sense within you the heart of a knight. It is not a warrior’s heart, to pant after battle, whatever the cause. Nor is it a soldier’s heart, to follow orders blindly. A knight chooses his battles. He fights under command, but he fights for principle. I see that in you. Do not quail at the task set before you. Much will be asked of you, but you will have the support of the Guardians and the Gem. I rest confidant that the legacy of Guardian Beacon will be well served.”

And with that parting assurance, the hologram faded. We all sat quietly around the table for a moment, and then the silence was broken as Guardian Jasra retrieved the Gem Shard from the Reader. As she placed the Reader back in her carryall, she turned to ADA Drew and the detectives.

“I trust this satisfies your inquiries into the matter of Guardian Beacon’s passing?” she inquired.

Drew seemed to shake herself, and then abruptly stood and began collecting her things.

“Yes, it does. The District Attorney’s office considers this matter to be closed, and will so instruct the police. We will, of course, ensure that your compatriot’s personal effects are placed in your care.” She turned to me and smiled, “Mr. Johnson, we apologize for the inconvenience that this episode has undoubtedly caused you. To be honest, we were quite unsure of what to do, this being the DA’s first case involving an extraterrestrial, and the questioning and holding of you was probably more of a case of not knowing what else to do, rather than genuine suspicion of foul play.” There was a noticeable shifting of chairs from the direction of the two detectives seated at the table at that comment. “We understand that your place of employment has let you go. We regret that. If you wish to pursue legal action to regain your job, the DA’s office will lend any support it can. On a personal note, I find it appalling that you were fired in the name of good PR. Please, do let me know if I can help in any way.” She turned to Guardian Jasra, “We thank you for your assistance in resolving this issue. Please convey our deepest sympathies to the loved ones of your colleague. I believe that’s all I have.”

And with that, Jessica Drew picked up her attaché case, shot an indiscernible look towards the two detectives, and strode from the room. As the door clicked shut behind her, it seemed to awaken the two detectives. Both rose to their feet, and, to my complete surprise, Detective Castle turned and actually apologized. “My partner and I are sorry for you losing your job. That’s just low. We didn’t actually think that you had killed the alien guy. It’s just, well,” he twisted the manila folder in his hands, “see, we’ve never had to deal with E.T. dying on our turf before. It made quite a mess. And we needed to look like we were doing something. Anyway, we’re sorry you got hurt in the process. Guardian Jasra, if you stop by the desk on the way out, the sergeant will have the rest of the personal effects for you. I don’t think they sent the uniform to the cleaners, in case of evidence, so you might want to leave that in the plastic bag, but other than that, everything will be ready to go.”

And with that, the detectives left the room, almost looking sheepish as they nodded goodbye. As the door closed, I realized that I finally was free of the burden that Guardian Beacon had inadvertently placed on my shoulders. No more suspicion and doubt would show out of people’s eyes when they looked at me. I even contemplated taking ADA Drew up on her offer and approaching Tom Strong to see if I could get my job at Araña Tech back. For all of about two seconds. And then Guardian Jasra spoke again.

“Stuart, I am pleased that you have been cleared of the suspicion surrounding you. Unfortunately, many times those chosen by dying Guardians often face mistrust in the eyes of local authorities. Few realize that the mantle of the Galaxy Guardians is something rarely sought after, and carries its own hardships. My own path took me several years, and began with the complete social breakdown of my home world. I know that you probably wish you could just have your life go back to normal right about now, but I’m afraid that your life has just become decidedly abnormal.”

Jasra stood, picking up her carryall, and raised a questioning eyebrow (at least, I think it was an eyebrow, it was in the general vicinity of an eyebrow), “Ready to go?”

“Go? Where to? I really have no plans, so I’m available if you need a more in-depth recount of my interaction with Guardian Beacon, but I don’t know what I’m planning, long term.”

“Well, if you’d be willing, I’d like to take you to the Guardtower, the headquarters for the Terran branch of the Galaxy Guardians. There are some things there that you would benefit from seeing. And we still need to talk about Guardian Beacon’s desire to pass along his Gem Shard to you.”

“Yeah, about that. See, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really hero material. Let alone Galaxy Guardian material. I appreciate Guardian Beacon’s vote of confidence in me, but I don’t think that I’m really cut out for the life of ‘intergalactic peacekeeper’. I’m flattered, but I don’t know.” I blushed as I pushed this out. Sure, every kid dreams of being a hero, but I had learned, the hard way, that the easiest person to lie to is yourself. And I had no illusions about my ability to be a hero.

“Few who are chosen to be Galaxy Guardians start off as heroes of any sort, Stuart. This is part of the reason that I wish to have you travel with me to the Guardtower. There you will meet many of our Guardians who have had the same doubts as you. And you will see the changes that the Gem, and the support of your fellow Guardians, can make in an individual; no matter what their background.”

I stopped and mulled over her words for a minute, as we gathered our things and headed down the hall to the desk sergeant to collect Guardian Beacon’s effects. What could it hurt? I had no deadlines on my hands anymore. Not even a job to worry about losing. The worst that I could find out is that I was right, that I’m not cut out for the hero business. By the time we had reached the end of the hall, and Jasra had collected Beacon’s effects.

“I’ll go. I can’t promise I’ll join up or anything, but I’d at least like to do my best to honor the spirit of Guardian Beacon’s wishes. He deserves at least that much.”

“I am pleased, Stuart Johnson.” Jasra replied, as we walked outside the precinct headquarters. “We can leave immediately, if you are ready.”

“Sure. How did you get here? I assume it was some kind of technologically superior vehicle, since you arrived from Paragon City so quickly, but I don’t see anything in the parking lot that looks like it came out of a Men in Black movie,” I joked.

To my surprise, Jasra chuckled. “No, Stuart. My transportation was from much further away then Paragon City. And thankfully, it doesn’t require a parking space.” With that, Jasra touched a tiny bead on her uniform, which flashed once. “Guardian Jasra, requesting transport for two to the Guardtower, including approximately 5 kilos of additional materials.”

She turned to me with what was definitely a twinkle in her eye, regardless of what species she was from, “I hope you’re not prone to motion sickness, Stuart Johnson. You’re about to take the ride of your life.”

Before I could question what she meant, I noticed that a circular space around us on the ground was getting progressively brighter. Just about the time I planned to holler for help and run away terrified, everything got very silent, and the scenery around me seemed to flicker and fade. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of brilliant, white light ….

“Galaxy Guardians, how may we be of assistance?” answered a feminine voice on the other side.

“Um, well, actually I’m not quite sure if you can help or not, but the your apparently my best chance.”

“Are you in need of emergency assistance, sir? We can have teams to you location in no time at all.”

“No, please, that’s not necessary. I’m in no danger. But I believe I have information that you should know, at the very least. And, well, I think … that is, I might … what I’m trying to say is that I was given one of your Gem fragments and I’m not sure what to do with it!” I got that last of that out in a rush and held my breath, waiting for the voice at the other end of the line to demand the immediate return of their Gem piece, or at least laugh at the idea of a middle management worker being the recipient of a galaxy-powered, superhero-creating fragment of a glowing gem. Instead, I heard an instant warmth in the voice on the end of the line.

“Please, sir, slow down. Now, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I thought you’d already know.”

“Well, sir, the Core Computer could trace your line and tell me who it was registered to, but usually we just prefer to ask. By the way, my name is Guardian Jasra.”

I could hear the slight tinge of amusement in her voice, and I got the definite impression that she had been through this process before.

“I apologize, my name is Stuart Johnson, I work, actually, I worked at Araña Technologies until recently and there’s been quite a number of surprises in the last few weeks.” I proceeded to outline a rough sketch of the events of preceding weeks, including a description of my short ‘conversation’ with Guardian Beacon.

“And you say the that local law enforcement still has the personal possessions of Guardian Beacon, Mr. Johnson?”

“Yes, Ms. Jasra, somehow it didn’t seem urgent to remove them, and I got the sense that Guardian Beacon would have been a supporter of local authorities.”

She chuckled, “Yes, I imagine that would probably be true. Well, from what you describe, Mr. Johnson, we have a possible case of transference. Whether that’s actually the case or not, you have nothing to fear from the local authorities. The Galaxy Guardians have practice dealing with the sudden death of our members, and with the difficulty that comes with trying to explain it to local law enforcement. Now, I’m scheduled for patrol here in Paragon City in a little bit, but I’m only filling in for an absent member, so I won’t be very long. I should be able to arrive at your location for tomorrow morning. If you will set up meetings with the investigators working your case, I will arrange to meet you there.”

She gave me a mobile number that could be used to contact her and then got directions to the police station from downtown. Once we had traded that information, she signed off and I set about contacting the detectives working my case, and requested a meeting for the morning. I also called the Assistant District Attorney that had interviewed me earlier pending a Grand Jury investigation and I decided to call Tom Strong as well. He quickly gave his assurances that he would be there in the morning.

Once I had finalized the preparations, I called the number Guardian Jasra had given me and left her with the details of the arranged meeting. I spent the rest of the evening talking to my parents. I didn’t want to worry them with the changes in my life, so I spent most of the conversation catching up on my brothers and sisters and their children. After almost two hours of highly amusing stories about the exploits of some of my more mischievous nephews and nieces, I said goodbye.

I crawled into bed that night relaxed and content for the first since my life had changed that day in the warehouse. I knew I was appreciated by the man that had done so much for me in my professional life, I knew my family loved me and that I would always be welcome with them, and tomorrow I would confront my problems instead of trying to duck and dodge them. It was a very satisfying feeling.

[OOC: Chapter two is done, posted here in its parts. Not even fishing for compliments folks! just comments, rip it to shreds if you like, just include how you think i should change it! thanks, GB]
Chapter 2 - Transition

I finished folding the last of my clothes to go into carry-on bag that I was taking with me. Everything else had been packed up and shipped out. Some of my stuff I had sent to my oldest sister Marie in Atlanta. Somehow I didn’t think I’d need most of my wardrobe where I was going.

The days since the discovery in the warehouse had been busy ones indeed. First there were the interviews from my company. Going over every detail and nuance of my testimony, comparing it with the statements by the security guards and EMTs. The company decided to call in local law enforcement, if only because we didn’t know what to do. There was a dead body, granted it wasn’t a human body, but it was still a dead person.

I understood their concern. The law dealing with murder had gotten somewhat tangled following the Rikti invasion. There were actually lawyers filing cases for the violation of civil rights of Rikti! As of yet, the courts hadn’t ruled whether Rikti, and to extend to our situation, aliens of any nature, were people under the law. So the cops became involved.

Once we had convinced them that we all hadn’t gone completely insane, mainly be showing them the security camera tapes from the warehouse, the police conducted an investigation. That took about three weeks of spending my days reiterating my statement, presenting the paper trail I followed to get to that particular warehouse, and in the end, all of us agreeing that we had no idea of how the alien being had gotten in a Fifth Column coffin.

I didn’t mind their involvement that much, although having to give up the belt and gem to them for holding really bothered me. It felt like I was betraying a trust that had been given to me. But I was convinced that Guardian Beacon wouldn’t want me to oppose the civil authorities. In fact, the brief conversation I had with him convinced me that he was above all devoted to the support and protection of civilization, including local civil authorities. So I bided my time. As the investigation dragged on, it became apparent that my company was looking for a break from the public scrutiny that had surrounded by decision to end the attempts to revive Guardian Beacon. So I wasn’t surprised when, after three weeks with no official ruling from the authorities, I was contacted by the Vice-President of my division.

Even though I suspected what was about to come, it still hurt to hear the words.

“Stuart, please, come in, sit down.” I had known Tom Strong, the VP of Araña Tech ever since I had joined the team. He was the one responsible for promoting me to the position of a team leader. Over the years I had come to depend on his advice and support.

“Stuart, we have a problem. No, wait, let me finish. I know that over the past few years you’ve become a vital part of our team. Stuart, you’ve more than justified my faith in you. I took a lot of heat when I recommended you for that position. But you’ve proven even your harshest critics wrong. That makes this all the more difficult.”

Tom removed his glasses and sat on the edge of his desk. He rubbed his forehead, clearly stressed by the pressure the last few weeks had been putting on him. Tom had sat with me through many of my interviews with the cops. He was a good lawyer in his own right, and his success with patent and copyright law had won him the Vice-Presidency of Research and Development over individuals with very strong engineering qualifications. As much as I detested the decision I knew was about to come, I still couldn’t find it in me to dislike Tom.

“Stuart, the company has worked very hard to earn its place in the defense contracting community. Working with Fifth Column technology has opened us up to criticism from other companies. We’ve had to go the extra mile to establish our reputation. The truth is Stuart, we just can’t afford the bad publicity. We’re going have to let you go.”

It hurt. I had spent the last eight years at one company; by far the longest portion of my life. I had never lasted for more than a year or two at any other company, often less than six months. So being fired was not new to me, although I had rarely been ‘fired’. But this was different; this was a place that I had actually cared about. There were people here that had become very good friends. Even knowing it was coming, it still hurt.

“Mr. Strong …”

“Stuart, if they’re making me fire you, you at least have the right to call me Tom,” he chuckled wryly.

“Tom, I don’t know what to do. I’m not going to fight this; I really don’t want to hurt the company. Honestly Tom, I’m confused. I feel like I did the right thing. Guardian Beacon was clear about his ‘transition.’ There was just no need to keep working to save him. Hell Tom, it’s not like we had a clue what we were doing anyway.”

Tom was one of the few people that I had told about the momentary conversation with the entity. It just wasn’t something that I felt would be beneficial to go around talking about. But that meant that there were very few people I could go to to talk about my problems with. Not everyone had the whole story.

Tom was different though. As I had started to grow and mature as a person, Tom had been the one to mentor me and guide me through the process of being an adult in the modern corporate world. He had also been influential in teaching me that right and wrong had a place in the business world too.

“Stuart, you have to realize, just because you do the right thing, that doesn’t meant that you’ll be rewarded. We’ve talked about this before. The world seems to take pleasure in rewarding good deeds with hard times and headaches.”

I chuckled at the comment. We had indeed talked about this, quite extensively. As I had begun to appreciate that being an adult meant taking responsibility for one’s actions, I had begun to question why ‘doing the right thing’ wasn’t always the easiest. It seemed counterintuitive. Surely, if you were doing what was right, others around you would recognize that and would respect your decision!? Slowly I had come to realize that doing right, just as my parents had first taught me, meant doing right no matter what the consequences. And sometimes, doing the right thing could make you very unpopular indeed.

“Stuart, you need to know this. From what you’ve told me, I think you did the right thing. It wasn’t the easy thing, and owning up to has cost you your job, but somehow I don’t think you were meant to stay here anyway.”

Puzzled, I looked at him questioningly. “You wanted me to leave Araña? You were going to let me go?”

“No Stuart, not at all! I was planning to keep you in my division for as long as I could. But that was before all of this. I think you have a different calling in your life now. You know what Guardian Beacon told you. At the very least you need to honor his wishes.”

“But how, Tom? How do I honor the wishes of a frozen alien that I never actually spoke to? Especially since the police have everything that I found on his body, including that belt and Gem that he talked about.”

“Well, for one thing Stu, you might try calling Paragon City. You know that there’s a chapter house or whatever they call it for these Galaxy Guardians there. Try getting in touch with someone. They might be used to this kind of thing.”

Tom was right. We wrapped up the formalities of the conversation in a few minutes. I signed the termination papers and collected my severance pay. The company wasn’t hanging me out to dry. I had 3 weeks terminal leave, and a hefty severance check. More than enough to live on for a while, especially since I’d been a bachelor all my life. So once I finished talking to Tom, I headed back to my place.

I had purchased a small building in a run down retail area several years ago and had converted it into a loft apartment; something I’d always wanted to do. One of the areas in the upper portion was my office. I often found that I worked better from home, and I set this place up to let me do much of my busy work without having to go in on weekends. It was state-of-the-art. T1 lines, wireless internet, fax/printer/copier combo machine, it had the works. It was a simple matter to pull up Paragon City’s hero registry and search for a member of the Galaxy Guardians. The first name I came across that was marked as having a leadership position was simply entitled Guardian Jasra.

Slightly encouraged by the progress I was making, I picked up the phone and called the listed number.

When the blackness receded back to the edges, this time finally slipping fully away, I found that I was still standing exactly where I had been. And from the body posture of the EMTs and security guards, it was apparent that almost no time at all had passed. I was still standing beside the being, beside Guardian Beacon, but from the falling LED readouts it was pretty clear that there was nothing left of him.

I hoped that his transition had gone well. I’m pretty religious myself and I still hadn’t figured out what the presence of aliens meant for what I believed, but Guardian Beacon had sounded pretty sure that there was something waiting for him. That the end of the physical form I saw in front of me wasn’t the end of the being. Although it seemed that he would be carrying on as something other than Guardian Beacon. And from some of his comments it seemed pretty clear that he hadn’t been the first Guardian Beacon.

With a sigh, I motioned for the EMT and the guards to stop.

“There’s nothing else we can do for him, guys. He’s gone.”

Their puzzled looks reminded me that I was gonna have some trouble explaining this. It’s not like it was everyday that you find a frozen alien in a warehouse and carry on a conversation with him inside your head in the time it takes to blink.

“Just trust me fellas. Call it a gut feeling, but we don’t have the tech to work with here, and, well let’s just say that he’s ready to move on, ok?”

It took a little more convincing than that when the other medic came back from the ambulance and his meds run, but finally I convinced them to stand down. We all waited with the body beside the entrance to the warehouse, and when the docs from the hospital finally did arrive, just a quarter of an hour later, they pronounced him dead. Mainly on the basis that since there was no detectable energy emissions from the body, there was no life.

The medical personnel packed up the body, rather light by this time, while I gathered all the associated materials that we had left in the sleep tank in our rush to get Guardian Beacon to the ambulance. While I had the guards moving the lid and tank itself over to shipping to be sent to our main investigative lab (there was some serious explaining still to be done about that tech), I went through the few items we had found inside.

There was some kind of badge or insignia device, which looked remarkably like one of the communicators from a certain famous sci-fi show. And there was the belt, and exact match for the one I had seen Guardian Beacon wearing in the vision or dream or whatever. But no gem.

“Hey, guys. Hold up! Let me check something real quick,” I hollered after the guards.

Running over to where they were packing up the sleep tank for shipping, I started tracing the wiring back from the transformer unit into the sleep tank itself. After a couple of minutes of pulling panels out of the way and tracing and untangling wires I found a small compartment that seemed to be slightly warm to the touch.

Unscrewing the compartment lid confirmed my suspicion. I remembered being convinced earlier that the generator was actually acting as a transformer, converting an energy supply into something that could be used by the sleep tank. From what Guardian Beacon had said about this Gem Shard thing, it sounded like a good bet that it could be used as an alternative power source.

And sitting there in a foam padded lining, right in front of my eyes was a small, multi-faceted, light blue gem. While I watched, there seemed to be a repetitive flickering from within the gem that was slowing down, dimming. I reached in hesitantly and picked the gem up. A warm tingling, kind of like when you’ve sat funny on a leg and the blood rushes back to it, spread up my arm.

There was no flash of light. No trumpets or angels or heralds. Not even a corny musical overture. Just a faint tingling and the tiniest brightening of that flicker I saw coming from the gem. Waving the guards to continue packing up the tank, I headed back to the workbench with the golden belt on it.

Sure enough, the gem fit right into the center of the belt. Once it clicked in, I felt the charge. Like the tiny shock you get if you lick two fingers and touch both ends of a battery. Nothing painful, but definitely real. Again, it faded in a few seconds.

The guards shouted over that they had finished loading the crates, so I told them to take the day off, there replacements would be here in a few minutes anyways, and I volunteered to watch the stocks of old weapons and ammunition that I had found in my scrounging earlier. I looped the belt over my shoulder, packed the rest of the items from the interior of the sleep tank into a carry bag, and headed over to the main entrance to wait for the next shift of guards.

It was funny. I had discovered a fifty-year-old mystery. Unpacked a frozen alien, tried to revive him, had a vision of him in my head, and seen him die. But the event that had the biggest impact on me was the placement of that gem into the belt. Somehow I knew that that moment was going to change the rest of my life.

Man, was that ever the understatement of the century!

[OOC: End of Chapter 1 - which currently has no better name than 'Origins' or 'Beginnings'. Chapter two has four sections done, and is considerably longer than this. I figure I'll give this a while to collect some comments before I move on to chapter two. Thanks again for any input and/or feedback.
Guardian Beacon

As I shook my head, trying to clear the black that still threatened the edges of my vision, I stopped suddenly. It was fairly obvious that I wasn’t in the warehouse anymore. In fact, it was fairly obvious that I wasn’t on Earth anymore. I think the floating islands gave it away, although it might have been the fact that the sky was purple.

Turning around slowly, it became obvious that I was on another of those floating islands. Far, far below was what looked like water, if water was a really funky shade of pink. But my island looked just like the others, which meant that there was nothing under it keeping it afloat. Which really depressed me. Just about when I was going to start a really good hysterical fit, I heard a voice behind me.

[Please, do not be alarmed.] Ok, so it wasn’t as much a voice as a presence in my head. [You are correct. I cannot vocalize in your language, but I am capable of relaying my thoughts to your mind. I have little time. My life force is ready to transition and there exists a need for a Guardian.]

I spun around and saw the being from the sleep tank in front of me. He seemed to be shimmering, not quite all there. Adding in the fact that his feet were about 18 inches above the ground, I was pretty sure that my first guess was right. I definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

“Wait a minute. Where are we? Who are you? Transition? Are you going to die? Fight it, we have help on the way!”

[Stop. There is not time to answer all your questions. We are in a construct of my mind. This represents my memories of Brindar, my home world. Long gone from this universe. I am Guardian Beacon. I was not always Guardian Beacon, and I will cease to be Guardian Beacon soon. But what you need to know is that I am a member of an intergalactic organization sworn to protect the universe. I am a Galaxy Guardian.]

The name rang a bell. I had heard of the Galaxy Guardians. Apparently there was a kind of Galactic peacekeeping force that had set up shop in Paragon City. That explained the uniform, but not how he ended up in a Fifth Column sleep tank from World War II.

[Stop. My story is too convoluted to explain, and we are running short on time. You need to accept the Gem Shard.]

“Wait, what?! Accept a gem shard?”

[No, the Gem Shard. The piece of the Galactic Gem that has served to define who Guardian Beacon is for millennia. The Gem has chosen you to be the next Guardian Beacon. I rest assured in the knowledge that you will honor that legacy.]

Reaching down, Guardian Beacon tripped some kind of lever and the gold belt with the shimmering blue stone in the center was in his hand. He reached out and I found myself accepting it from him without even realizing that I was doing so. Once it fell into my hand the projection, I guess, of Guardian Beacon began to shimmer and fade, growing noticeably less firm.

“Wait, stop. Legacy?! I’m a middle management office worker. I’m not a Guardian. This gem thingy obviously made a mistake. Take it back!”

But it was too late. Guardian Beacon had disappeared. And the construct that was his homeworld was fading quickly too. Just about the time I realized what that meant for the island I was standing on, the black at the edge of my vision flooded back in and everything went dark. Again. Mental note: I really hate things that make me fade to black.

The black and gold star was obviously part of some kind of uniform, and I had heard enough about cryogenics to recognize a sleep tank when I saw one. I quickly used the pry-bar from the forklift toolbox to remove the sides from the crate. Peeling the foam packing material off the rest of the sleep tank, I quickly exposed the entire surface. The design was similar to the other coffins that had been confiscated. Black wood with Fifth Column insignia inscribed in the corners and molding. It definitely appeared to be from the same time period, the only question is how the Fifth Column got its hands on such advanced technology.

By now I had cleaned all of the shavings and debris off of the coffin, and it sat exposed on the warehouse floor. Curiosity was gnawing away at me, but with my last ounce of will power I used the warehouse radio to contact security and told them to get medical attention to my location immediately. It seemed like forever, but EMS personnel finally arrived, rolling in a stretcher and what was obviously advanced medical tech that had been reverse engineered from Rikti devices.

The sleep tank was too heavy to move, and the ambulance couldn’t get to a loading dock; the dock levels were designed for much taller trucks. I would have given anything for one of those new repulsor lifts that were beginning to see use in emergency medical services. The EMTs looked at me, clearly unsure of how to proceed. I had hoped that the sleep tank could wait several more hours, or even another day, but I had been studying the readouts while I was waiting for EMS.

My German was rusty, but the display readouts made it pretty clear that the generator was on its last legs. That was why I hadn’t heard the hum earlier in the day. A lack of free moving air had caused severe overheating damage to the unit. As I moved crates around, I stirred up the dust, which filtered into the crate, blocking off the last of the open access for the generator. It was amazing that it had lasted as long as it had. The generating unit itself didn’t seem to be producing the power, oddly enough. Instead it seemed to be functioning as a transformer, pulling power from somewhere inside the coffin and funneling it back into the cryogenics system. Regardless of how the system was functioning, it was failing, and rapidly at that.

Seeing the helplessness on the EMTs faces, I made a command decision (pretty rare for a guy that was content to fade into the background).

‘Get your best hypothermia specialists en route to our location now,’ I snapped. ‘We’re gonna open it up here and stabilize him until the docs arrive.’ One of the EMTs ran for his bus to make the call, while I grabbed one of the security guards and had him clear us some space with the forklift. We hauled over a workbench and used the forklift to place the sleep tank on top.

Thankfully the forklift was an electric model. We backed up the lift to the base of the sleep tank and studied the chance of supplying the unit with power from the forklift’s batteries. A couple of tense minutes and a few minor electrical shocks later and we had a makeshift mating collar that should let us plug the cryo unit directly into the lift’s batteries. Crossing our fingers, we quickly switched the power intakes. The hum dropped noticeably as the generator whined and then shut down; its interior mechanics gummed up by decades of dust and debris.

‘The hospital’s sending two hypothermia docs and a mobile treatment unit!’ the EMT gasped as he rushed back in from using the ambulance’s radio to request additional help. ‘They should be here in ten to fifteen minutes.’

We milked about three minutes of juice out of the lift’s batteries before the LED lights on the side began to drop again. The lift had been fully charged; the power drain of the cryogenics unit was immense. Which meant that whatever had been feeding the generator, clearly only a transformer now, must have had an amazing energy supply.

As the last readout started dropping towards the ominous red end of the spectrum, it became obvious that the hypothermia specialists wouldn’t be in time. So we started unhooking cords and cables and unlatching the clasps holding down the sleep tank’s lid. One of the techs got all the blankets that the ambulance had and the security guards quickly moved to each fire exit and grabbed the fire blankets from the safety boxes there.

Once we had all of the materials we thought we could use to keep a body warm, we cracked the last seal and I hit what appeared to be the release switch on the side. With an audible crackling, the top of the sleep tank separated smoothly from the sides, hovering about the tank. A couple of pushes made it obvious that there were no rods or hinges, the lid itself incorporated repulsor technology! Putting aside the impossibility of the Fifth Column having tech like this in the late 1940s, we moved the lid out of the way and waved away the billowing frozen mist that was rising out of the sleep tank interior.

When the mist finally cleared all of us were taken aback. This wasn’t a Fifth Column officer, or even a captured Allied soldier. This individual was quite obviously not of this world. He, for lack of a better gender noun (he looked like a he), had a high ridge-bone that spanned where a human’s forehead would be. The bone wrapped partially around the side of his head and looped into what looked like ears. Or at least something that was placed in roughly the spot of ears, if a human’s ears were about four inches higher on his head. The mouth was divided, with a septum of some kind creating two separate openings. And the eyes looked like they had an opaque white film covering them. I have no idea if there were pupils involved, but they remained the same milky white for the entire time they were open. The alien’s physiology was bipedal, although his waist was far narrower than any human’s waist. It looked like you could pick him up and snap him.

By the time we had recovered from the shock of seeing an alien right in front of us, the cold tremors had started in. That shocked one of the EMTs back into action, and he soon had us using a roll and tuck motion to get one of the blankets underneath the creature. We quickly lifted him out of the sleep tank while one of the guards moved it out of the way with the forklift. Once we had cleared off some workspace, we flipped over the tank lid and placed the being on the interior, using it as a makeshift stretcher. We slowly began walking the lid towards the exit and the waiting ambulance where we could at least get some important vital monitoring equipment hooked up while we waited for the hypothermia specialists. Not that we knew what we’d look for in vital readouts, but we had to do something.

About halfway to the door, the cold tremors became so pronounced that they showed through the pile of blankets we had stacked on top of the creature. We stopped and began to administer hand rubs to the extremities under one EMT’s supervision, while the other administered a sternum rub, at least in the general vicinity of the sternum. The thing’s heart could have been in his left leg for all we knew!

It soon became apparent that the tremors were getting worse, not better. As I waved one of the EMTs out to the ambulance to get whatever he thought might help, I nearly fell over in shock. The arm that I had been rubbing to try and restore some warmth to was moving on its own. I had just enough time to see the blankets move and the being’s right hand reach across his body, effortlessly pulling out of the guard trying to warm that arm, and grab my left arm right above the wrist. The grip was like iron, but I didn’t even have time to try and pry the odd fingers loose. Instead I began to feel quite drowsy, and the world appeared to fade to black.

In just a few years, I had become head of a research division that specialized in adapting materials that had been confiscated from the Fifth Column in its multiple incarnations over the years. I didn’t really have to push too much; I was good at recognizing qualified people and plugging them into slots where their talents would be utilized. So I had an amazingly qualified team under me that basically came to me with their ideas and I managed the paperwork and red tape to make sure that their ideas got realized.

As it turns out, this was a pretty good way to run a research division. It let the smart people worry about the stuff they were researching, and it let me stay focused on the paperwork and forms that had become my specialty. Surprisingly, I found myself taking pride in my division. The fact that we came up with the greatest number of practical applications of weaponry from reverse engineered sources actually pleased me.

I began to actually apply myself to making this division better. I found myself coming in early, staying late. I even came in on Saturdays a couple of times to try and get stuff set up for my team for that coming Monday. And it was on one of those Saturdays that my life changed.

I was hunting around in one of our ancillary warehouses, looking for a specific crate. I had found a strange reference to an ‘alternative power source’ in a Fifth Column report. The report had been intercepted by the Allies, and contained a subordinate’s field report to his commanding officer. He talked about powering the entire heating supply for his company by coercing what he called ‘someone obviously not native to America’.

I had cross-referenced that particular Fifth Column company and found nothing further; it appeared that the Freedom Phalanx had caught them shortly thereafter. I had also researched the sparse records we had of the mobile field commanders that had been receiving reports from Fifth Column scouts. I got lucky there. That particular field command had been broken up by a reservist company patrolling Rhode Island for just such a command. The report stated that several coffins had been discovered with the mobile command. The company commander noted that the coffins had been used to smuggle weapons and supplies through the States without attracting attention. I believed that one of those coffins had been shipped from my mysterious Fifth Column field officer.

So I spent the day prying open old wooden crates and unlocking and opening coffins. Most of them were filled with machine guns and ammunition. After an hour or so it became obvious that the reservist company had only opened a few of the coffins before just assuming the rest were the same. This was dramatically illustrated when I opened one of the coffins and found the preserved body of a Fifth Column flag officer!

Over the next two hours I found three more Fifth Column bodies. I used the warehouse forklift to pull those off the racks and set them aside for processing on Monday. Even Fifth Column officers deserved a better resting place than a wooden crate in an old warehouse. The rest of the coffins I marked and tagged for dispersal to either the weapons store or to meltdown. I was approaching the last of the shelves with these crates, and beginning to feel that I had spent my Saturday morning chasing wild geese, when I first noticed the hum.

That in itself was unusual; the warehouse was large, rather empty, and had no heating or cooling system, so there was no ambient noise to mask the sound; I should have heard it sooner. I stopped for a second and tried to place where the hum was coming from. The best bet seemed to be from one of the three crates on the second to top shelf. So I grabbed the forklift and just pulled them all down to the warehouse floor. The first was just another collection of weapons and ammunition, which I quickly tagged and moved aside. The second was a completely different story.

As I levered the lid off, the humming noise increased dramatically. It was obvious why; the interior of the crate had been soundproofed with thick sheets of some kind of foam material. Inside was another coffin, but it looked nothing like the others. There were flashing LED lights, and what looked to be a small generator of some kind at the foot of the crate with umbilical cords running to the coffin. The most striking thing however, was the wave of cooled air that flooded out of the crate.

I shifted some the ubiquitous foam material from off the top of the coffin and spied what looked like a frosted over portal. Grabbing a shop rag, I scrubbed the glass until it started to clear. Leaning over the coffin, I looked into the portal and saw a black and gold star staring back at me.

[OOC: I've been working on this for about 8 months now, off and on, and I would really appreciate feedback on writing style and suggestions on improving it. I've currently finished the first chapter, and am almost done the second. I'll be posting the story in segments, what i considered natural breaks within each chapter. Mainly so I don't post a single, hugely long entry! Again, any and all criticisms are welcome and appreciated, just try and include a suggestion for how i can fix what's wrong. Thanks, Guardian Beacon]


Stuart Johnson was a normal guy. Well, I used to be a normal guy. Not so much anymore, but at one point I was as ordinary as you could want. I worked for a defense contractor. I wasn’t even an engineer or anything glamorous like that. I was middle management. I made sure that everyone’s paperwork was turned in on time, that meetings were scheduled and attended, that deadlines were met, that kind of thing. I was quite happy with my life. I liked being normal. Ordinary was my kind of flavor. Of course, with the luck I usually have, I should have known that there was a hit coming. And man, what a doozy of a hit it was!

Let me give you some background about my life. I grew up as the oldest of 5 siblings. Three girls, two boys. My brothers and sisters are all currently married, settled down, and generally living good lives. Heck, I’m an uncle about six times over now. Getting hard to keep track of all the little buggers’ names. But I enjoy my family, and I’m happy for them. Growing up black in the South wasn’t necessarily easy, although things have changed quite a bit. It still amazes me to see my nieces and nephews out there playing quite contentedly not just with white kids their age, but Asian, Indian, and just about any other ethnicity you can think of. But when I was growing up the South was still adjusting to the new civil liberties of minorities, and there were occasional rough times. My folks did well though. They raised us right and taught us right from wrong. I never went hungry, although I do remember my dad hurrying me away from a grocery store once when some white, redneck hick decided to make an issue out of having to share a checkout line with a ‘colored’ person. In spite of that though, my memories of Georgia are fond, it will always be a place that I associate with good cooking, hot summer days, and beautiful falls.

What wasn’t pleasant was the kind of work that my parents did to provide us with that life. My dad was a woodworker; he had a gift in his hands that could bring out beautiful designs from their hiding place in wood. But I never saw my dad do anything more than blanket boxes and small cabinets for the neighborhood. People wouldn’t buy master carpenter level work from a black man then. It wasn’t the quality, everyone admitted (some grudgingly) that the few show pieces he did were amazing. It was the price. White folks in the 60s and 70s balked at shelling out hundreds of dollars to a black man. So my dad never worked as a woodworker. Instead he stood next to a machine, pushed a button, and watched it punch holes in metal plates as they went by, soon to be incorporated into the boilers that rolled off the belt at the end of the factory. And little by little I watched that job suck the creative soul out of my father. It was almost desperation that drove his work on pieces for the neighborhood. Proof that he still had a soul; that the job hadn’t pulled it out wholesale.

My mother worked as an assistant schoolteacher. She wasn’t allowed to teach in the newly integrated elementary school, but she did work with the teachers there, preparing lessons, helping kids understand what they didn’t get in class, just about everything they let her do. And to be fair, my mom was happy with her job. The teachers she worked with and for were her friends. I think it was the first time I truly saw people of different races that genuinely cared for each other as people. Her teacher friends weren’t afraid to come over to our house for dinner and, shock to the local gossips that it was, we were invited to their homes as well. Eventually Mom was given a rightful job as a full-time teacher, due in no small part to the lobbying on the part of the teachers that worked at Jefferson Elementary and the parents that had seen her pour her life into their children over the decades. Of course having your mother teach at the elementary school you attended stinks royally. There were times that she knew I was in trouble before I knew it. But all in all, the school was good to Mom.

But I knew that this wasn’t my kind of life. I didn’t want to work for nothing my whole life, or work my life just to get the acceptance or approval that should have been given at the start of the job. I wish I could say that I wanted more to prove that I could be just as good as anyone else, no matter their race. Or even that I was going to excel because of the work that my parents did, the sacrifices they made. But the simple truth was that even though they had instilled the character in me. Even though I knew right from wrong and had the work ethic, I just didn’t want to put the effort into it. I didn’t want to fight for success in the world.

So I took a small scholarship to attend Georgia State University and played on the practice football squad for four years. I could have tried out for the starting team, but I didn’t want to expend the effort that it would have taken to get there. I could have gotten a job with more hours than my ten hour a week bookstore job, but I didn’t want to do the work. So I scraped through on a half scholarship, majored in business, graduated in the middle of my class, and generally remained normal. Like I said, I used to like being normal.

After I graduated, I bounced around in a couple of jobs, never wanting to work beyond the bare minimum required by the job description. I have many memories of being called into employers’ offices and saying ‘but that’s not my job!’ As if that were some talisman that would ward off the evil proponents of excellence.

Eventually I found my niche in the defense contracting industry. There was a need for individuals that were willing to just push paper all day. Never making a fuss, simply doing their job description. I was in heaven. Getting paid to be mediocre.

I can’t decide if it was good or bad, but regardless of the moral qualification put on it, my life would change drastically very soon. I was about to be reborn in an encounter that would change everything!

GGX

Forum for Galaxy Guardians, a GLC-themed, RP friendly SG, currently with our main chapter on Guardian Server, and a test expansion chapter on Champion Server.
Drop by www.forthegalaxy.com to check us out,
For the Galaxy,
Guardian Beacon

I think one of the most useful things for SGs would be the ability to better control the rankings within the SG. Perhaps allowing more rankings and allowing the leader/s to specify what powers each ranking had. Especially when PvP is instituted in I4, it would be useful to have control over who could initiate a rumble for the entire SG! Outside of that, I have to say I love my SG. The Galaxy Guardians are all big Statesman fans. We're all breathlessly waiting for SG bases in the COV crossover. Which is my last question - Will SGs be able to customize the interior of their base? Different themed SGs might enjoy differently decorated bases. Just a thought.
Regardless, we love your work Statesman, you and all the devs. Keep it up!
For the Galaxy,
Guardian Beacon - level 23 E/E blaster
Check out the Galaxy Guardians at www.forthegalaxy.com - now on Guardian and Champion servers!