Skysong

Does anyone want to contribute anything more, or shall we call it a thread? In any case, thanks to the vast number of people who participated. I really appreciate your friendless and willingness to help out a newbie.

Like I said in chat, definitely count me in. This will be good.

Ten minutes later... Crowned with snow, the tall, steepled figure of Saint Stephen's rose above the nearby houses, the richly-colored light of dusk just beginning to shine through its beautiful stained glass windows. Tall and proud despite its obvious age, it seemed to shelter the rows of weathered headstones beside it like a parent would a small child. Zakitaj was fascinated; his people had often regretted their history, as it had been full of harshness and barbarity, especially compared to the new heights they had since reached. But the Earthlings appreciated the past, and sought to preserve and document artifacts of their history. He quietly walked among the graves, reading "Anna Smith, Loving Wife and Mother, 1741-1783" or "Keith Summers, He Served his Country, 1893-1917". His people had practiced cremation for thousands of years, scattering the ashes of loved ones to the winds both to free their souls and to conserve space on a crowded planet. There was a certain appeal to a full-body burial, though; it was like these people were just sleeping, waiting for the time when they might be reborn. He wondered where Physicus would be buried; probably not here, as it looked like the graveyard hadn't been expanded in some time. His thoughts turned to his reason for being in the area: finding whatever his mentor had left behind. The graveyard probably wasn't even close to the largest one the Earthlings had built, but it was large enough that searching every square inch of it would take a very long time. Erik had said that Physicus spent a lot of time here; where exactly would Physicus want to be if he was in this area? He had always loved the sunset, so Zakitaj decided that fact ruled out the eastern side of the church, where the view would have been blocked by the building. He'd been equally keen on the sunrise, though; that left the back of the church, where both would be visible. Physicus had also always liked the number seven, so Zakitaj counted seven headstones from the left (his mentor was left-handed) and seven back. The inscription on the grave he arrived at was much too faded to be legible, so he took it to be a very old one indeed. Bending down, he looked around it and eventually spied a bit of circular grey plastic. Excitement filling him, he dug at it with his hands, eventually creating a small mound of dirt and a grey and black canister. He popped the lid off to reveal a roll of film, which he quickly covered to prevent exposure; non-digital cameras had been one of his first searches on Wikipedia. As he pondered what the images might contain, it was entirely lost on him that, hunched there with dirt on his hands in the fading light, he looked rather like a grave-robber or vandal...

"Make sure you're not jumping into something you might regret, either. I don't want to see you hurt, Mr. Sondergaard, and you know firsthand how dangerous the roads I'm going to be traveling are. Besides, you have a family already, which is more to risk than the possibility of one." Erik shook his head. "My mind is made up; as long as I agree with what you're doing, and you're willing to accept my help and advice, I'll be the legal side of the little team surrounding Physicus. It'll be interesting to work with someone who has a public identity this time." Zakitaj smiled more broadly and stood, extending his hand. Erik took it, and the two shook firmly. "Mr. Sondergaard, I look forward to a long and prosperous partnership. I swear I will do everything in my power to live up to your brother's memory. Now, I'm sure you'll have matters to take care of. I'll send you an email so you know where to reach me, and we can plan things from there. Thank you so much for your time, and for the information and other assistance you've so kindly provided. And for your wife's tea, of course. I'd be honored to be back just for that." Erik smiled too, though his melancholy was understandably still present as he showed Zakitaj to the door. "There is one more thing," he said after a moment. "My brother used to spend a lot of time at the Lantern Hill Cemetery, up by Saint Stephen's. He told me once that I should look there if anything happened to him, but I didn't want to get involved for a long time, and I didn't really expect... well, in any case, you're the person with the best right to whatever it is. Perhaps you should go find it." Zakitaj nodded. "Thank you. I will." Erik closed the door with a final wave, and Zakitaj turned and walked back to the snowy sidewalk. "Open bookmark 'Google Maps'. Search 'Saint Stephen's Freedom City'. Select first link. Select textbox 'directions from'. Input '2125 Keller Street'. Select text box 'directions'. Activate text to speech." With computerized instructions guiding him on his way, he set off further up the hill that gave the district its name. He'd not yet seen an Earthling burial ground, and if Physicus had left something behind that he'd never even mentioned, he wanted to know what it was.

Erik was quiet for a while, and Zakitaj waited patiently. He had almost simultaneously delivered news of the man's brother's death and effectively asked to replace him, though he hoped it wouldn't be seen that way. Regardless, it was a large step for both of them to make; he'd already come to terms with the fact that, in the eyes of both the Khaladi and those who had known Physicus, he had big shoes to fill, but Erik would to have to accept that someone else would take up not only his brother's mission but his very name if he allowed what was being suggested. "Bad things happen to good people, Zakitaj. Herbert almost never even got gratitude, and he gave up any chance he had for a normal, relatively peaceful life. Once he became Physicus, he never looked back. I've had chances he never had; I'm a happily married man with two children and five grandchildren, a man who lives comfortably and works for an honest, relatively safe living. You have the chance right now to put that suit of yours away. You're still young; you could have what I have, and probably more." "You're right about all of those things," Zakitaj replied, "I could live as others do. But my people expect more of me. I am the last of a noble lineage, even if I am not a legitimate child of that line, and the only person who can use my battlesuit. I am also the most knowledgeable of the Khaladi with regard to Earth's ways, and the one who led them here. I must be the one to prove to the people of Earth that the Khaladi are valuable members of society. Great things are expected of me, and while many did not know the name of Physicus, I know that the man who bore it did great things. Perhaps I can make it great again, as a tribute to the memory of my teacher." Erik nodded, but still seemed unsure. "I realize what this might mean to your people, but, for the sake of my brother's memory, I ask that the goals he set out to be accomplish be the first priority of any 'Physicus'. Promise me that, before you think of your people, you will remember the mission of Physicus: to seek out those who plan the problems. Remember that ten percent of Humans are good, ten percent evil, and eighty percent able to be swayed either way. Promise that, above all else, you'll fight the evil ten percent. Don't be content with those they've swayed, because their numbers are infinite and their capture irrelevant. Do you swear?" Zakitaj thought about that for a moment. By making such a promise, he might be forced to sacrifice opportunities that would improve the public standing of his people. He was foregoing the chance to gain recognition by turning in a stream of small-time thugs, but that hardly seemed to be an honest way to do things in any case. Physicus had it right with his intention to deal with the source of the problem, and to promise to do what is right is a promise any hero should make. "I, Zakitaj Kelembran, do so swear." Erik nodded again in response, smiling a little this time. "Good. You have my blessing, though you may come to regret this choice. Since you have convinced me, I can't just leave you in the dark about the world you've now entered. My brother had a network of contacts, knowledgeable and well-connected people who wanted to help; I'll speak to them for you. And I think it's time for me to make up for my mistakes. I'm coming out of retirement." Rosemarie looked concerned. "Are you sure, Erik?" "I owe Herbert for the way I treated him before," her husband replied, "and I'm still a damn good lawyer, if I say so myself. Plus, this way I can keep an eye on Zakitaj. I'm no expert on this super-heroing stuff, but I can provide insight he might not otherwise get."

“We had a... falling out over a good friend, a retired police officer; the same guy that warned us about the hit. He was a witness in an otherwise shaky case against a nasty mid-level manager in a corrupt pharmaceutical company, and Herbert was sure his testimony would put this guy away. I didn't want him to testify, though, because the case was ugly; I didn't think we'd have enough evidence to convict him even with the testimony, and I was sure something bad was going to happen to him if we put him on the stand. Herbert had been Physicus for about eleven years by then, and he had the whole 'veteran hero' complex going. He said that he would be able to protect our friend even if things went bad, and after a while I believed him. We both turned out to be half wrong. Some thug ran up and shot our friend in the middle of testifying, and he died before Physicus could do anything; we did convict the guy, but the cost was way too high for me. I told Herbert I didn't want anything more to do with this 'hero' stuff. At the time, I didn't realize that he was taking it even harder than I did, and by ditching him I'd made it much, much worse. It wasn't an acceptable trade for him, either, and he got increasingly depressive, though I was still too angry at him to see it. It wasn't until six years later, the day after he left Earth, that I found out the other key fact; teleporting caused stress on his body that artificially aged him. He'd been 42 at the time of his failure, but the best estimate I've gotten said that his muscle degeneration made him look like he was sixty and in poor shape, despite constant exercise. I always wanted to... to say I was sorry, and that I'd been wrong. It looks like I'll never get the chance." Erik had become very, very quiet again, and Rosemarie put a supportive arm around his shoulders. Zakitaj was quiet for a while, sipping his tea. The Physicus he knew hadn't been depressed, but as he'd gotten older he'd gotten the impression that there was a mournfulness his teacher was hiding to prevent it from spreading to his student. He'd never talked about the experiences Erik had revealed. "We do have Herbert's... remains, which I will of course turn over to you. I would like to be present at the funeral, if that's acceptable to you." Erik nodded tiredly. "Of course. If not for you, we'd never have known what happened." "If not for him," Zakitaj countered, "I wouldn't be alive to tell you what happened, nor would any of my companions." He drank the last of his tea, carefully setting down the cup as he gathered his courage to say the hardest thing yet. "I'm sure we'll be in touch when that comes to pass, and I wouldn't want to intrude upon your hospitality any longer, but I do have one final question to ask." Erik detected his change in tone and looked up, meeting his eyes. "What would that be, Zakitaj?" The alien did his best to contain his fear. This had been the moment everything that had happened so far was leading up to; it might be not unlike the transformative moment for Physicus that Erik had described, and in more ways than one. "I was inspired and taught so much by Herbert; he told me about his work here, and I remembered it when my homeworld was destroyed. I possess a battlesuit that only I in all the universe can use, a battlesuit that gives me abilities far beyond those of normal humans. With your permission, I would like to be the next Physicus."

Rosemarie came back into the room with a steaming ceramic pot with some sort of nozzle sticking out of one end; putting it on the table, she went back into the kitchen for cups. "As it turns out, the lack of brain activity should have been a dead giveaway that something weird was up; the doctors assumed that it was because his brain was only getting enough oxygen for the most basic of functions, like keeping his other organs working, but we found out by digging through some records that he only lost brain activity after the MRI. Apparently he'd been born with some extra mutant gland in his body that had been activated by the powerful magnet. Basically, it allowed him to disassemble his molecules, pull them toward an object of great mass, and then reassemble them, all at beyond the speed of light; at least, that was the theory we got from the metahuman specialist we visited. I kept telling him it didn't matter, and that he was no less valuable and no more of a burden even with his 'power'. I thought he'd be distraught; I was wrong. He loved the idea, and kept telling me that he finally had a chance to do the kind of field work we could never get done before. His lungs and ribcage somehow healed completely, and he started training himself to teleport at will. After a lot of convincing, he got me onboard with his new plan: he would capture the suppliers, the people who had caused the problem, and I would get them convicted. We were finally treating the problem, not the symptoms. That was the plan, anyway." Returning once again, Rosemarie poured a greenish liquid through the pot's nozzle and into three cups. She slid one of them across the table to Zakitaj, and he took it up, thanked her, and raised it to his lips. It was warm, even hot, but somehow also soothing; half of the taste reminded him of the snow-muffled scent of the gardens outside, a scent he had come to love since his arrival on earth. The other half, he couldn't identify. "Thank you, Ms. Sondergaard; it tastes... I'm sorry, but I don't know the word." "Well, it's herbal tea, and it's a little bitter..." "That's it," he said with a smile, "it tastes 'bitter'. Thank you. It's very good." She smiled a little less nervously in return. "If you don't mind my asking, Erik, what went wrong? He talked about having you as his partner for a good ten years, then just stopped mentioning you. I understand completely if you'd rather not discuss it..." "No, no, don't worry about it. It's a time for remembrance.â€

"Back in '67 I was fresh out of law school, and he and I started up a practice; he was in his early thirties, and both of us were determined to be the best, most honest prosecutors the USA had ever had. We were going to take just the cases we were sure about and keep criminals off the streets. But things were getting more complicated here in Freedom; pretty much everywhere, actually. Drugs were a huge problem, and no matter how many people we put away, there were more people who'd been model citizens the day before and human wrecks after. We started getting constant death threats; people threw things at us on the way out of the courtroom. We couldn't understand it; we were sure we were making things safer for everyone, but everyone seemed to hate us for it." "Perhaps that's the way your brother felt after the Moore Act." Erik thought on that for a moment. "Maybe. In any case, it was getting hard to keep going. By Fall of that year, when we'd been going about six months, we heard from a concerned friend in the police department that a local gang which had lost several members when we got them convicted was gunning for us; being young and stupid, we thanked him for the tip and kept working on our case. On the way out of the courtroom the next day, there was a drive-by shooting; Herbert pushed me behind a concrete flowerbox and tried to follow, but he was hit three times in the chest in midair. If paramedics hadn't been on-hand to watch over a witness prone to heart failure, he probably would have died then and there. They got him to the hospital with catastrophic damage to both lungs; they got the bullets out, but gave him three days to live, tops. Now, I wasn't going to stand for that, so I went and got a second opinion. The other doctor, I can't for the life of me remember her name, suspected that there might be bone shards in his lungs that, if removed, could allow him to live a little longer. To find out, they put him through one of those magnet-things... what do they... right, an MRI scan. Anyway, they didn't find any bone shards, but something did happen.""What?" The inquiry was proceeded by a long silence, and so it had been intended as a gentle prod. Erik took no offense, and took a deep breath before continuing the story. "Well, they put him back on life support, and we started planning his funeral; he had no brain activity or anything, but his heart was beating, so he wasn't clinically dead. I got a call at four in the morning two days later that said his heart was giving out, so I showed up; you know, hold his hand as he went, or something. More for me than for him, seeing as he had no idea of what was going on. Anyway, I was there with him when, out of the blue, he just vanished. No *poof*, no puff of smoke, he was just gone; he even left his IV behind. I called the police, who are used to dealing with crazy stuff in this city, and they were worried that some crazy scientist or something had stolen his body for experimentation. But when I got home, he was sitting there working on our next case like nothing had happened. When I told him about it all, he said, 'but Erik, I've been right here the whole time! Are you sleeping okay?' It was bizarre; I thought I was losing my marbles, but everyone else agreed with my story."

"Oh, Erik..." Rosemarie's voice had a hint of melody to it that was almost entirely lost as she gasped and threw her hands to her mouth, then hurried over to give her husband a hug. Erik's face twitched as he tried to contain himself, his shocked eyes moistening as he hugged his wife back. After a moment he spoke, his voice even quieter than before. "Rosie, please go put a pot of tea on. Zakitaj and I need to talk alone for a little while." "Of... of course, dear." She hurried off through the door she had come from, and Erik sat down heavily in a chair across from Zakitaj. He was managing to hold any obvious outward expression of grief in check, but pain was still evident in his eyes. "I haven't seen Herbert since he left in '84. Please, tell me what happened to him." And Zakitaj began to tell the story of Physicus in his life, from beginning to end, while Erik listened attentively, taking in every detail. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Erik leaned back at last; he'd been on the edge of his chair, staring right into Zakitaj's eyes as the incredible story unfolded, understandably wondering if it was all some sick joke. "So. All of that, and not so much as a postcard. It figures." Zakitaj shook his head. "He had no way of contacting you, but that didn't mean he'd forgotten you. He just felt that he couldn't stay on Earth while the work he'd dedicated his life to was illegal and those he helped considered him a criminal." Erik smiled sadly. "Sounds just like Herbert. From the moment he found out how to use his power, everything else took a backseat to being Physicus. He was so... distant, and edgy, whenever he wasn't out in some slum stopping a drug deal. I told him it was no way to live, that he was throwing away everything he'd worked towards, but to him his whole life had been a journey to that way of living, even if he hadn't known it before. I couldn't understand why he wanted to leave when he finally had a chance, no, an excuse, to go back to the way he had been. As time passed, I figured out that he didn't want to be normal. He didn't want to make a normal difference, and wouldn't settle for giving anything less than everything." Zakitaj nodded. "He was single-minded, but for all the right reasons." "All the right reasons, yeah, but that didn't prevent him from cutting himself off from everybody who cared about him." Sensing that they were at an impasse, and not wanting to put any more strain on Erik, the alien visitor changed the subject slightly. "How did Phi... pardon me, Herbert gain his powers? He never told me about it." "Bit of a long story," Erik replied.

Zakitaj shook his head in response to the Plant Woman's question. "The injured simply didn't reach the ship. There wasn't time to..." He thought about what he was saying; had he, in his heart, known that Physicus was going to die before he reached the starship? It was likely. He might, then, be considered a murderer. Plenty of Khaladi who might have survived their wounds had lain on the ground while he bore his dying mentor past them. He had valued Physicus's life more than theirs partly out of foolish hope that he might live to guide them and party out of respect for the man who had saved the lives of all those who survived, but Physicus wouldn't have wanted that. He hadn't returned expecting to survive, only to help others do so. But the Khaladi were honor-bound to respect the fallen who had done great things; it would not have been respectful to leave Physicus on a destroyed planet. Still, he would have to remember to more carefully consider even his snap-judgements so that they were motivated by wisdom, not emotion. "In any case, it is just us, and we are healthy enough, though indeed worn out as you say."

He'd walked from the monorail station in bustling Parkside up to the older neighborhood of Lantern Hill, which he found to be much quieter and more agreeable, though snowier. The change in architecture was intriguing, from tall constructs of steel and glass to unique two-story houses with gardens and narrower streets lined with leafless trees. He remembered Physicus mentioning growing up in the area in a "brick" house; he assumed "brick" was the name for the material, often reddish-pink in color, which appeared to be some form of stone. He would have to look up the architectural style as soon as he figured out what it was called, though that might take a while, as he was too embarrassed by his ignorance to ask. In any case, he was on the right street now; he just had to figure out which house it was. "Stop," he said. "Open document 'address'. Select all. Activate text to speech." "2125 Keller Street," the suit's flat voice intoned. He stopped in front of a modest-sized house with a well-ordered garden and a stained-glass window depicting a red flower in the front door. This was it. Perhaps he should have called ahead? No, that wouldn't have made it any better. Taking a deep breath, Zakitaj made his way up to the front door and knocked three times in rapid succession. He waited patiently, shoving his nervousness to the back of his mind and trying to plan out what he was going to say. After perhaps half a minute, the door swung open to reveal a tall, distinguished-looking man in his late sixties, a cane held in the hand not operating the overly-complicated machine known as "doorknob". "Can I help you?" His voice was smooth and quiet but tired, like a gentle breeze that had blown a little further than it meant to. Zakitaj nodded, but didn't smile; it wasn't appropriate given the topic to be discussed. "Yes, I believe so. You're Mr. Erik Sondergaard, I presume? I need to talk to you about your brother." There was a pause as the old man look at him with a new, more critical eye. "How do you know Herbert?" The distrust was understandable; Physicus mentioned many attempts by his foes to uncover his secret identity so that they could threaten his family. "I met him a long way from here. He mentioned the time he broke your arm playing basketball." It had been one of the few stories Physicus had told of his family, probably because he'd still felt guilty about it even so many years later. Evidently knowledge of it was proof enough. "Come in, Mr. ...?" "Kelembran. But please, call me Zakitaj, or Zak if you prefer." Many of the Earthlings he'd introduced himself to seemed to like to shorten his name, and he wanted to put Erik at ease as much as he could. The old man raised one eyebrow at the strangeness of the name, but nevertheless stood aside to allow his guest entry. Moving inside, Zakitaj looked around at the home's interior; a hardwood floor, several rugs that were clearly handmade, and a few well-cushioned couches and chairs surrounding a low table occupied the room nearest the door. Taking off the Earthling shoes he'd been given the previous day to avoid tracking water and dirt from outside all over the house, he walked into the room and, at Erik's request, took a seat. A moment later, a short woman who was a little younger than Erik and would once have been quite beautiful came through one of the nearby doorways. "My wife, Rosemarie. Rosie, this is Mr. Zakitaj Kelembran." Giving her a brief smile and a genuinely-meant "charmed," Zakitaj received a nervous smile in return. "Mr. Kelembran... I'm sorry, Zakitaj, says he has some news about Herbert." A lump stuck in the young man's throat, and after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke up. "Yes, I do. I'm afraid he's... he... he passed away."

This is the OOC thread for "Happier Times", in which Zakitaj learns about, and gains permission to take up the mantle of, his old mentor Physicus. He then encounters the gruesome but good-hearted Dead Head; what will happen when magic and technology meet?

Date: February 28th, 2010 Sunrise 6:32am, sunset 5:49pm. Low 26, high 30; light snow 8:45-9:45am, overcast the rest of the day. "Open bookmark 'Wikipedia'. Search: Incandescent Lightbulb. Select all. Activate text to speech; set volume 65 decibels." Some people listen to music while they walk. Others listen to podcasts of the news or comedy programs. As a new arrival to Earth, Zakitaj Kelembran felt that enjoying the planet's culture took a back seat to understanding the technologies its inhabitants took for granted. He'd already been laughed at for walking face-first into several doors, which were not all automatic as they had been on Khalados, and then struggling with doorknobs; as it turned out, you were supposed to turn the little devices, though it was utterly unintuitive to do so. He had learned the hard way that simply pulling or pushing on them with all the force he could muster was an ineffective way to operate them, and resulted in further gales of laughter. A kindly middle-aged woman had seen him looking lost at the monorail station and guided him through the process of buying a ticket, even purchasing one out of her own pocket when she discovered he had no money, then helped him get off at the right stop; in return, he'd swallowed his pride and listened to her constant tales of beings in her home she called "cats", which he had at first taken to be slang for children, with embarrassing results. He was determined to avoid such situations in the future, if at all possible. Ever since Physicus had first arrived, when he had been but a child, Zakitaj had been fascinated by the superhero's tales of his homeworld, Earth; now that he inhabited Earth, he was quickly learning that his mentor had neglected to explain just how complicated everything was there. Earthlings made use of technologies the Khaladi had long ago replaced with vastly-improved versions, or simply never developed due to the dramatically different environment back on Khalados. Two days after his arrival, it was still incredible to him that Earthlings built their cities toward the skies rather than into the ground below; he'd now been atop some of the taller buildings and, despite their sturdiness, felt nauseous at how open and unprotected they seemed. He was traveling around without his suit active in order to adjust to the vastly greater gravity of the planet; though he was at the peak of Human agility, it wouldn't do him much good if he allowed the invisible force that still made his limbs feel heavy to make him sluggish, and he didn't want to be defenseless without his battlesuit. And, to reduce the number of incidents displaying his laughable ignorance of Earth to the world, he had begun to use the internet to learn. He'd found it to be a fantastic resource, filled with ideas, opinions, and explanations. Wasting no time, he'd immediately enlisted a friend to cannibalize and repair a discarded network card to install into his suit. He did find it irritating when he moved out of range of various networks, cutting him off from browsing, but had discovered that he could simply leave a page open even while his suit was inactive and have it read to him while he walked, allowing him to gradually absorb information that might prevent him from making any more of a fool of himself. The built-in browser could also download images while the suit was active, but it was just as well that he was training with only the aural and vocal sensors active; it had proven difficult to walk and read at the same time, and so many of the images that popped up on the internet seemed to be naked Earthlings in the act of copulation. To make a long story short, he listened to the history and engineering of the lightbulb as he walked up the tranquil Keller Street, trying not to think of the awkward, sensitive nature of what he was about to do.

Zakitaj recovered quickly from yet another surprise; when Physicus had mentioned "nations", he'd assumed they'd been like the tribes of his homeworld, regulating various pieces of territory but subject to the will of the planetary government. Evidently Earth was more divided; of course, there were more people there, so it made sense that they had not yet unified. He had heard mention of "New Jersey" and the "United States of America", but had not considered them particularly important, as they had until recently merely been descriptions of geographical areas he never intended to visit. That the area was known to be friendly to immigrants, however, was a good thing. The Earthlings had great protections in the form of their metahumans, and (though perhaps only due to a lack of contact) probably didn't fear the Broan. If they were also shown to generally be accepting of newcomers from different cultures, that would also work in the favor of the Khaladi. Maybe coming to this planet had been the right choice after all; he'd put lives in danger, but he might also have saved many lives. He turned to his people and translated Fulcrum's words, then turned back. "We thank you for your generous greeting, Ta'das... excuse me, madam Teymourian. I apologize for my ignorance of your planet; I'm afraid that I am actually the most informed of us, but I'm sure that if others are as kind and understanding as you and your compatriots have been, we will learn quickly. Please also forgive my impetuousness and disregard for the weariness of my people; it was born not out of malice, but out of a desire to see all debts repaid that... how do you say... became twined... no... twisted into an apathy regarding the immediate concerns of others. Finding accommodations would be a wise choice; the journey has not seemed long, but is has been taxing."

Nice job, gang! I'm really enjoying how this is playing out. Does anyone have any objections to this thread taking place on February 26, 2010? If so, speak now, or forever hold your peace.

Physicus

Dark Star's return was expected, and dreaded. The news he bore was unknown, and Zakitaj waited with bated breath as the meta began to speak. He knew of Khalados's fate; he'd been there when it had all unfolded, had seen the slaughter and barely survived it. He knew that the Broan had casually stripped the planet of all resources, probably reducing it to dust not long after his escape. He breathed out; it was bad news, certainly, but not news he didn't know or couldn't have guessed. And then Dark Star mentioned the time frame, and his eyes became wide. "Eight... eight years?" How could it have been so long? He'd been literally frozen solid while the remnants of his home went eight times around its sun, or perhaps more; he didn't know how a Khaladi year compared to an Earth year. Physicus would have been gone from Earth for nearly thirty years; his accounts were no doubt dated. What had changed in all that time? And, far beyond Earth, what had the Broan been up to in so many years? But Zakitaj was rarely at a loss for words for long, especially when he represented his people. "Thank you for telling us. We didn't expect anything to be left of Khalados, but we didn't expect such a long journey, either. I am glad to have met someone who knows of the politics beyond his world; if we had been so wise, we would not be in this situation. Perhaps you can guide us to one of your planetary government's offices? I imagine we'll have to apply for Earth citizenship." It seemed perfectly reasonable; Khalados had been united under a single government despite tribal divisions and resentments, and that had allowed it to prosper greatly, making great leaps in technology. Surely Earth, a much larger planet filled with Metahumans of incredible power, would also be unified. "I should also speak with the captain again; some of his cargo was lost over the side during the crash, and I wish to provide him with compensation as soon as I am able. But I understand if you have more immediate tasks. We can find our way, if necessary." He wasn't sure of that, but he didn't want to make one of the planet's protectors act as a tour guide when he could be bringing criminals to justice.

It all happened too fast to comprehend. The plant woman whispered condolences to him, her eyes mourning a man she didn't even know, and then touched one of the plants that had accompanied her onto the deck. The next instant, he was somewhere else entirely. He didn't know what he'd been expecting; perhaps a tingly feeling, or a great lurch, or the urge to be sick, but all he felt was an instant of warmth, as though a web of life surrounded and enfolded him. It was gone as soon as it had come, leaving Zakitaj to wonder whether Physicus had felt the same way each time he teleported. He opened his eyes and gasped, commanding his helmet to become transparent again. He stood in a truly strange and alien place, so far removed from his homeworld. There had been no plants there; he only recognized the ones summoned by the plant woman because of a tattered photograph of a place called the Huntington Gardens which Physicus had brought with him. Nor had there been any of this... white stuff. Bending down, he touched it, and ascertained that it was frozen water. There seemed to be water everywhere here; it coated the ground, and made up all of the vast plain of Ocean. As he deactivated his battlesuit, allowing it to retract into the gauntlets and chestpiece once more, Zakitaj also noticed that his limbs felt heavier and more clumsy, as though someone were pushing on them all the time; that made sense, as Earth was much more massive than Khalados had been, and the pull of its gravity was thus far greater. The chill he was accustomed to, despite the thinness of his jumpsuit; his ancestors had survived worse with less. He raised his eyes from the ground and joined the rest of the Khaladi in looking around in awe. Khalados had been plagued by terrible storms, which ripped free great chunks of rock and bludgeoned anything that got in their way; thus, Khaladi cities were built downward, into the ground, though that had mattered little when they had been bombarded by the full power of a Broan fleet, which had ripped through their dusty soil to destroy the culture that lay beneath. Yet these Earthlings built upward, not downward; buildings of metal and glass formed vast canyons that stretched all the way to the sky, like a fleet of starships frozen in time just as they blasted off for the stars. The Khaladi stood a good ways from these buildings, but they were so large that they were easy to see anyway. Their immediate surroundings, however, were no less fascinating. The "trees" Physicus had described, though without the green canopy in the picture he carried, stood tall like the skeletal sentinels of Khaladi myth, the guardians of the dead who ferried spirits to the afterlife they deserved. Resilient, aged, and proud, they had all the strength of and greater character than the buildings, and flowed more organically, having grown in whatever direction was most advantageous to their continued life. Benches, covered in a thin layer of frozen water, provided spaces for people to sit; that meant that this place was no accident. It was heartening that the people of Earth saw the beauty inherent in their own rich ecosystem as well as the constructions of their cities. Taking off one of his armored gloves and shifting Physicus to lean him gently on his opposite shoulder, Zakitaj pressed his bare palm against the rough exterior of the nearest tree, his fingers tracing the channels that crisscrossed the organic outer armor. "You were right," he whispered to his friend and teacher. "It really is beautiful here; impossibly beautiful. What could possibly have convinced you to leave?" Physicus was silent, reminding Zakitaj of the task at hand. Sliding his gauntlet back on, he waited for the talk.

Physicus: The Crash (Also GMing)

I sent you a PM; while Physicus would be a poor fit for a school thread, I think Midnight II would be a perfect fit for a little storyline I thought up, if you're interested. Besides, I haven't had the pleasure of RPing with you yet, and I'm impressed with your work as Jack of all Blades. Let me know what you think.

Chastened by the plant woman's reminder that all was not ended, Zakitaj nodded his armored head. His actions had only prevented one of the dangers he had created, and people were still threatened by his other failures. Turning back to his people, he spoke in the soft, rumbling tones of the Khaladi language, a sound Physicus had once compared to the shifting of pebbles across soft soil. Understanding the urgency of the situation, they moved immediately to join hands and approach the flowers, just as he had instructed. He didn't understand exactly what was going to happen, but he trusted these people; they had helped him without reservation in a problem that had very little to do with them. Besides, the plant woman had gotten aboard the ship somehow, and she neither flew nor had a vehicle. The void-man traveled down to complete repairs on the barge; Dark Star was his name, which Zakitaj committed to memory. It was clear that he and the plant woman were used to working together; they spoke casually of resolving the situation. Dark Star's mention of a talk, however, struck fear into Zakitaj's heart. He knew nothing of this new planet's policy. Was there a restriction on interplanetary immigration? Did these people fear, perhaps rightly, that his presence would turn the eyes of the Broan toward their home? He had come so far; would he simply be put back on the ship and told to go somewhere else? But even if that happened, he had one duty on Earth which he could not ignore. "Just a moment," he said, and stepped back aboard the starship that lay upon the deck. He made his way back to the cryostasis hallway and over to the chamber in which he had left Physicus. It was unlikely that any of these heroes would recognize the old man; he had been one of them, but never a famed one, and probably long before their time. Dressed as he was in his simple grey clothing, the wound that had broken his spine still painfully obvious, they might never know he had been one of their own. But he had been a good friend and mentor to Zakitaj, and for that, he deserved to be buried at home. The alien refugee scooped him up and headed back outside the ship to join his people. He made his way over to the plants and took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm ready. Unless my help is required, let's go."

Zakitaj grimaced as the words "alien dude" were uttered by one of the Metas; he was going to give them his name soon, or that was all anyone would call him. Still, everything else about the situation was cause for feelings of triumph. The fighter-bomber he had damaged was struck full-on by the void-man's second blast of energy, and it spiraled downward into the sea with a great splash, throwing off sparks and smoke. As it began to sink, the second craft was suddenly struck by another superhuman, the unusually tall woman; one of its engines was very nearly ripped off, and it pulled up from its attack run. Sensing defeat, it turned toward the skies and attempted to limp away, its escape hindered by the damaged propulsion system. By time time Zakitaj turned from his observations, yet another strangely-garbed meta had arrived, a woman who had made her way over to the void-man to have some discussion Zakitaj couldn't hear. It became evident that the battle was won, with the remaining enemy in full retreat. A cheer went up from the crew; their ship was saved, with no sign of reinforcements on the horizon. Zakitaj breathed a sigh of relief; his people had also been saved, and he'd made up for at least some of his mistakes. All that remained was to deal with the Broan pilot who had been shot down, and perhaps send his wingmate to join him. Deciding not to strain his kinetic projectors by taking potshots at the retreating ship, the human alien made his way over to the railing to look as the spot where the other Broan ship had crashed. It had long since vanished beneath the waves, and though he could breathe underwater, the Broan pilot could not; capturing him by simply pulling him out would drown him. Suddenly, a different sound caught Zakitaj's attention; it was the sound of his own language. The Khaladi survivors had at last awoken from their long cryosleep, and were slowly leaving the damaged starship to stand upon the deck of the barge, looking confused and filled with awe. Though they looked like average human men and women wearing padded jumpsuits of blue and purple, it was obvious that they weren't from Earth simply from the way they marveled at Ocean and the skyscrapers of Freedom City in the distance. Ending his role in the battle, Zakitaj walked over to join them, standing at the front of the crowd. "The people of Khalados thank you for your assistance, as do I. We likely would not have survived if it had not been for your intervention, and we do not even know your names. The legends we had been told of Superheroes must indeed be true, and that gives us all hope for this planet. Please, tell us who you are, that we may record your names in our history books." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- High above Earth, Commander Tysu snarled with pure, unbridled rage. He tore two of his subordinates from their chairs without even touching them, sending them flying across the bridge to land against the far wall with somewhat satisfying *splat* sounds. He had seen the video transmission, and now he knew exactly who was responsible for every failure he'd had concerning the Khaladi; he'd watched the power-armored one, aided by the other Metas native to the planet, easily defeat his attack ships. He hated waiting, hated the whole idea of patience, but he couldn't have his revenge if he failed too soon. With no regard to his pilots, or to the remaining fighter-bomber, he gave the order to retreat. He would bide his time and gather the weapons he needed to rip that armored Khaladi, and all of the people he protected, into little, bloody pieces. The barbed vessel shimmered once, then vanished from the system as it traveled deeper into the void of space.

Sorry I've been away so long, guys; I had internet trouble, then a charity event. I'm back now, though.

I'm not terribly worried about initiative in this thread; the situation doesn't demand it, and if we disregard it people can post whenever is convenient, which speeds things up. A warm welcome to the newly-arrived Stesha.

Zakitaj's battlesuit disabled his helmet's transparency just in time to protect his eyes from the flash of both missiles exploding violently; a rain of shrapnel flew out over the water, but the barge was too far away to be damaged, though it did rock slightly as shockwaves traveled across Ocean's surface. Turning back around from his position in the prow just as the two Broan craft flew over his head, he surveyed the scene on the deck, curious to know who had managed to destroy the other projectile. It was then that he noticed the noisy rotor-craft; its approach had been hidden from him by the hum of enemy engines and his own emotional distraction. Evidently it was there for evacuation purposes, though he knew it wouldn't be nearly enough given the sheer number of people on the two entangled vessels. The grizzled captain was ordering his crew not to depart, too; evidently he still hoped to move the ship into Freedom City. He spotted the caped woman in the middle of her dive over the side, and wondered what she could be doing; but he had no right to question those who freely offered help when he had just caused a disaster. The boy with the plastic in his ears, who had briefly greeted him, was celebrating, so it was a good bet that he had been responsible for the other missile's destruction. Zakitaj nodded at the void-man's words; the Broan ships probably were crewed, and it would reflect badly on him to sink to their level by killing his foes. It was a shame the blast had missed; it positively roiled with power. He turned and ran toward the port side of the vessel, hoping to intercept any further attacks, and chanced to look to his right. His jaw dropped, and he nearly tripped as he traveled; immensely grateful that no one could see the expression on his face, he tried to tear his eyes away from the beautiful woman who seemed to be encased in a cascade of hair the color of a warm sun. He had seen prettier, but not many so; this certainly gave him hope for his future on planet Earth. But he was thinking like his father would have, putting pleasure before duty, and he had since been taught better than that. He managed to gracefully arrest his run just short of the port railing just as the Broan ships came around for a second pass. Determining that the people onboard the vessel, which now bore their true target evenly balanced upon it, had caused their initial attack to fail, they let loose with shotgun-like flak canisters, evidently trying to rip the troublesome soft targets to shreds before finishing their mission. "Everyone down!" His shout was motivated by a simple decision; he wasn't going to use his kinetic projectors defensively this time around. If they didn't deal with the fighters, which carried huge stockpiles of ammunition, it could result in a stalemate lasting hours. Besides, he had an advantage they could not have forseen. Zakitaj stepped forward directly into the path of one of the flak canisters just as it burst; fifty serrated pellets struck him full in the chest, ready to rip and tear through unprotected flesh. And yet they bounced easily off of his phaseweave armor, which briefly flared as it absorbed the kinetic energy of the attack and prevented the impact from even slightly affecting his balance. He quickly raised one hand and fired off another bolt of force, aiming for the rear engines of one of the retreating Broan ships. Fate was with him for the second time in a row, perhaps making up for his catastrophic failure of a landing. Fighter-Bombers were not generally all that heavily armored, relying on speed and maneuverability to save them. That had run out for the ship he hit, and it spiraled away as the pilot attempted to regain control. He hadn't taken it down, but he had delayed another pass, at least. He could only hope that the other heroes were so lucky; he doubted they were as weapon-proof as he was.