How It Ends

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6:24AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

Station Center was quiet. Mike played a game of chess with Martin. Martin, for his part, had become quite adept, and won most of their games. Mike was only amused, and thought of it as a greater challenge. It was part of their morning ritual, and parcel to how Mike trained the ever-growing artificial intellect. Martin pressed in with his king's knight, and Mike saw an opening. He slid his queen across the board, taking the knight, confident she would be safe from attack. He was right, of course, but the computer had another plan. A bishop angled from the other side of the board and took one of Mike's pawns.

“Checkmate, Michael.”

Lexi spent two hours every morning training in the Arcanum. This morning was the exception. She spent only half the time there, performing stretches and katas in order to keep her body fit and limber, then going over the subtleties of magic Arcanist Kaine labored to teach her. After an hour, however, her tummy grumbled and the baby kicked. Moreover, her feet were swelling. It seemed like a good time to stop. Retrieving her duffel, she happily made her way to Newton's, hoping the guy Blue had hired to run the grill knew a thing or two about breakfast.


6:27AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

The Station shuddered as the blast doors slammed down. Alarms roared as the world tilted around Lexi and the others in Newton's Bar & Grill. There was a series of explosions, and the shriek of tearing metal. Mick tumbled and struck his head against the counter behind the bar. His new grill cook, Dayton, barely managed to stay upright. Lexi lifted from the floor and tapped out an emergency code on her commlink.

“Mike!” she shouted. “Mike, what's going on?”

The only response was dead air. She frowned, then shot toward the intercom on the wall, trying Mike again. Still, no response. She turned and surveyed the situation, then hovered up and over the bar to help Mick to his feet.

“Let's get this blast door open and get you to the medbay,” she said.


6:27AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

The attack came without warning. Martin should have detected the oncoming rockets, but the sensor array had been taken down for a seven minute maintenance period; too small window to allow for coincidence. There was no time to ask who the attacker was, or why – though the answers to both questions could be extrapolated – before the second barrage hit. One missile was all it took to plunge Station Center into darkness, and it took a precious five seconds before emergency power brought the lights back up.

“Martin, status,” Mike snapped. Martin didn't respond. Mike furrowed his brow and turned to the main console, tapping out a series of diagnostics commands, watching as the data flooded the screen. No communications. Defense array, inoperative. Teleporters down. Station East, non-responsive. Martin, offline. He swore under his breath when he read the last line: Gravitational repulsion units: offline.

The station was going to go down.

It took all of a minute to bring rudimentary systems back online, restoring power to the teleporters and external sensors. Mike brought cameras around to get a handle on the damage. The hull was sundered and torn, with sections of steel beams and composite panels jutting out into the nothingness. Blast doors had closed all through the Station. The damage was extensive, and he doubted it could be repaired quickly enough to keep them in orbit.

To make matters worse, Station East was slowly floating away and descending more quickly than the remainder of the space station.

Mike sounded the evacuation of Tangent Station.


6:31AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

Lexi, Mick, and Dayton reached the Station East transport room and could go no farther. Blast doors blocked them from all other hallways. A comm center on the main floor flashed with a steady stream of information. Defense array, unavailable. Life support, failing. External sensor array, disabled. Teleporters, manual control only. Lexi was not the kind of person to swear, but a frustrated Frak! passed her lips.

“Dayton, you and Mick need to get out of here,” she said as she turned to the young man. His eyes were wide, and he was at the verge of hyperventilation. She placed a hand on his arm, sending cascades of warmth through his body. “Listen to me, and do exactly what I say.” Her instructions were simple. She was entrusting Mick's safety to the young short-order cook. They would both be sent at the same time, and once the older man had been seen to the hospital, they were to contact Mr. Zen for more help. She would stay behind to man the teleporter. Someone, she assured Dayton, would be there soon, to help her.

The teleporter spun up, and a shaft of cyan light enveloped the two men, transporting them to the Earth below. Lexi was alone.

The baby kicked and she put a hand on her belly. She wasn't alone, after all.

“Don't worry, Daddy will find us.”


6:32AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

Martin came back online with startling suddenness. “What kind of mess have you gotten us into, Michael?” he quipped.

“This is no time for joking, Martin,” Mike said, a dour look on his face. “Can you maintain a safe descent path with the retrothrusters and set this thing down somewhere it won't cause any damage?”

“Of course, Michael. What are you intending?”

“Lexi,” he replied. “She's in the Arcanum.”

“Oh. Oh my. Michael... check the monitor.”

Mike looked up, staring in dismay as the Arcanum crumbled into itself in a slow implosion. Metal buckled, stone cracked, and orichalcum crystals splintered as its section of Station East was ripped from its own entry, hurtling downward with increasing velocity.

“The blast door must not have held–”

“Lexi!” Mike shouted, her name almost a battle cry. He leaped from the control pedestal planning to launch himself out of the command center, punching a hole in the wall if he needed – after all, the Station had been evacuated. Instead, he fell, crashing down the stairs. Bruised and shaken, he struggled to his feet. “M-Martin?!”

“I'm working on it, Michael,” the synthetic intelligence said, matter-of-factly. “It appears the first missile strike managed to insert a series of nanites into the Station's atmospheric distribution center. I'm studying one now, but it seems they were designed to inhibit your abilities. Whoever did this knew precisely what they were doing.”

Mike turned, looking up at the monitors. He fell to his knees as the former Arcanum tumbled into the upper atmosphere and began to disintegrate. Helpless, he could feel the tears begin to stream down his cheeks, and he clenched his teeth in anger and frustration. Lexi was gone, as was their unborn child. He was alone.

“Michael...”

“It's over, Martin. Land the station.”

“Michael, I found–“

“It doesn't matter. She's gone. Let's get this thing down.”

“You don't understand, Michael. Lexi is very likely quite alive.”

Mike froze. “What?”

“If you would have taken a moment to listen,” Martin scolded, “you would already know by now.”

“Martin, tell me, frakkit!”

“I've finally managed to restore power to the Station's datacenter, and it appears Lexi left the Arcanum before the attack, and was in Newton's when the missiles struck.”

Mike jumped to his feet. “I have to reach her, then.”

“There is no way, Michael, not until we can reverse the effects of the nanites in your bloodstream.”

“Don't tell me there's no way. We need to find o–“ He stopped as a memory of another 'missile' strike against the station crossed his mind. “Where are we keeping Cheela's old ship?”

“It's in storage in Station West, Michael, though as it requires her DNA to function, it is doubtful you could use it to reach Lexi.”

“I don't need to fly it, Martin. I just need to crash it into Newton's.”

He found the ship just where Martin said it would be. The lights flickered on in the storage hanger off the Station West corridor as he entered. In the middle of the room – indeed the only object in the room – sat the tarp-covered single-passenger starship. He uncovered it; the canvas rippled with a flourish, exposing the wedge-shaped flyer, and he ran his hand over it, looking for the release to the cockpit. The smooth skin gave a little at his touch, shuddering back as if alive, but the cockpit slid open for him. He climbed in and studied the controls.

“Frak. Aliens,” he muttered.

“How do you propose to reach Station East, Michael?” Martin asked.

A determined grimace tugged at Mike's lips. “I need you to blow the top off this room, then reverse the inertial reduction field to lift me out of here. Once I'm clear, angle the Station to use the IR generator as a slingshot, and launch me in the right direction. Keep a tight beam on my comm so we can stay in contact.”

“I don't approve of this plan at all, Michael.”

“Are you saying you can't do it?”

“No. I am saying there is no guarantee that Cheela's ship will work as it did before, that it will even strike Station East hard enough to punch through the hull.”

“It doesn't matter, Martin. I have to reach her.”


6:43AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

The plan worked like a dream – the kind of dream that starts off well, but slowly deteriorates into the kind of nightmare one never quite forgets. Catapulted toward Station East, the alien ship flew straight and true, until it was struck by a piece of flotsam from the sundered Station. It spun out of control, spiraling forward, now aimed not at the back of Newton's, but at the transport chamber. Only seconds before impact, the ship's interior lit up, buttons and screens flashing to life. Something whirred and the ship righted itself, it's point piercing the thick hull of the Station like a dart burying itself in the soft pad of its board. Mike lurched forward, nearly striking the ship's console with his forehead. With a hiss! the small ship began to morph. The front cone split into ten parts, spreading out like a blooming flower, pressing against the inner hull. A sealant oozed from a series of small injection units, a black goo that shored up any remaining leaks.

Mike yelped as he was ejected out of the ship, landing prostrate on the floor.


6:44AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

Lexi hovered, lotus-style, disdaining the tilted floor beneath her. She spoke to the baby inside her, whispering loving phrases, telling it about her family, the worlds she's visited, and about its father, Mike Mars – Hero Prime. She was in the middle of a mildly funny anecdote when Cheela's ship struck. She dropped to the ground, crouching to all fours, watching as the cone blossomed. Her eyes went wide, and a grin crossed her face. “Oh!”

And then the ship vomited Mike out onto the floor. She scrambled over to him and hugged him as he pulled himself to his feet. “We've been waiting,” she said, a slight tease in her voice. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

Mike wobbled as he righted himself. “I hadn't figured that part out yet. Martin?”

“I'm working on it, Michael. In the meantime, I've completed the scan of Station East and found the teleporters are able to function manually. Might I suggest you send your fiance and child to the surface?”

Lexi's refusal was flat. “No.”

“I thought you might say that, which is why I'm not asking you. Michael?”

Lexi looked at Mike. “No.”

“We're not both getting out of this, Lexi, not unless one of us comes up with a genius plan. There's only room for one in Cheela's ship, and I'm not even sure if I can reset it.”

“All or none, Mike. We've been separated too much. I'm not going through it again. I'm not losing you again.”

Mike raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it tenderly. He leaned in and gave her a warm kiss, pulling her body close to his own. “I love you,” he whispered. “But I can't let you die here.”

“It's not your choice.”

He stared at her helplessly, exhaling a deep, sad sigh. “I'm ordering you, as General Director of Tangent, to teleport to Paragon City.”

The need to follow orders tugged at her, and she was quiet for a few moments. Her years of military training nearly demanded obedience of her, but she swallowed hard as tears filled her eyes. Her hand mimicked the motions his made only moments before. “No. I love you, and there is no life without you, not for either of us. Consider this my resigna–“

“Very sweet, very sappy, both of you, but I think I have come upon a better solution. I'm coordinating with Portal Corps, and may be able to drop Station East somewhere else, while it's still moving at a relatively slow velocity The problem is, they have no portal device hanging about in space. Fortunately, some of their most recent work, coupled with studies done on Praetorian portal generators, allow them to project a portal's event horizon to any physical point.”

“That's amazing, Martin. Get it working.”

“The problem, Michael, is that they haven't perfected destination yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems the origin point of an event horizon is part of what determines its destination. While they may well be able to land you safely on Earth, there is no telling which Earth.”

Mike turned to Lexi, asking her with his eyes what she thought of the plan. She nodded her response and Mike took a deep breath before speaking again. “Do it, Martin.”


6:51AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

Five minutes of hanging in space, slowly plummeting toward the Earth, knowing that every moment drew them closer to certain death, wreaked less havoc on the minds of Hero Prime and Fiera Arcane than those minutes might have, had the two heroes been alone. The said nothing, preferring instead to sit against the wall and hold each other, waiting for Martin to get back with them. He traced the curves of her face with his fingertips before his hand dropped to her belly. She gave him a warm, loving smile, and he returned it. The scene was more serene than it should have been, given the circumstances.

“Michael?”

Mike didn't stand, but just looked up and said, “Yes, Martin?”

“There is someone who would like to speak with you. Unfortunately, I have yet to manage duplex communication to his location, so you will simply have to listen.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There was a burst of static, then Mr. Zen's voice came from Mike's comm unit.

“Mr. Mars,” he began. “There are no words sufficient to tell you what you have meant to those of us who have come to know you. However, this is an eventuality I foresaw, one of many futures you might have lived, and I wish to convey to you something far more important than well-wishes. As much as we care for you, there are things you must know, and time is short. The world upon which you will find yourself will be in need of your services, perhaps even more than Primal Earth. Upon this world, there are no people who wield the kind of power those of our world possess. Despite this, it is a world of tremendous potential, but one which has need of guidance. Your future will rely less on your unique abilities, however, and more upon your moral compass. Do not let it stray from true north, Mr. Mars, for your duty to this world will be great.

“Ms. Lucas, even after losing one world, you proved yourself a beacon to another. Primal Earth has been made a better place by your short time here. Please understand, then, why it is time you move on: this new world, this Earth, is a world where magic has been forgotten, where wonder is reduced to special effects on movie screens, and illusion is smoke and mirrors. You carry with you the ability to reignite the flame of imagination in the hearts of these people. Use it, and use it well.

“This will be the last time you hear my voice. From this world where you go, there is no return. Even the very avatar of space and time dare not visit, as it would trap him as surely as any other. But as you go, go with my blessing, and the blessings of your parents, Michael, and your friends and family. They will know what it is you are going to do, and they will be happy for you.”

A wrinkle of emotion crept into the old Japanese man's voice. “Goodbye, my friends, and take fortune with you.”

Michael found himself on his feet; somewhere in the middle of Mr. Zen's soliloquy, he had stood, tugging Lexi up with him. He pulled her to his side. “Martin, is it true?”

Station East shook, and the two of them nearly lost their balance. A white light seeped through the very walls and both heroes were overcome with the familiar sensation of one of Portal Corps' devices – the stretching out of one's self, being pulled from one place to another, while being in both places, and all places in between, at the same time – and then the world went black.


7:30AM EDT, Monday, May 16, 2011

Mike pushed a half ton of steel girder from his shoulder, laying it aside with ease. The nanites were gone, or at least non-functional in this dimension. There was a siren, much like every other siren had had ever heard. It winked out with an upward twist of sound, and he heard someone say, “There's another one over there.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up. A hand came to his shoulder, and someone told him he should lay down, that he might be injured. He shrugged off the hand and stood, turning to survey his surroundings. Station East was demolished, and debris trailed off to the east for maybe a kilometer. The man beside him was a paramedic, so said the tag on his shirt, and out of Garden City, Kansas.

“Sir, you're going to need to at least sit down, so I can check you over.”

“Where's Lexi?” he asked.

“The blonde woman with you? She's right over there,” the man said, pointing. Mike turned to follow the paramedic's finger, his gaze settling on Lexi, about thirty feet away, dazed but letting an EMT check her over. “She's fine, and so's the baby.”

Mike nodded. “Thank you. I... I'll be fine. I just need her.”

And so the first steps Hero Prime took on the new world were spent to reach the woman he loved.

Where do we go from here?