Update

Whoa, I've been neglecting the shit out of this blog! Apologies to my two followers, haha!

Anyway, the book is pretty much completed. I've gotta do some editing and write a few additional scenes, which I'll start on in June. I plan to start shopping this out to agents in a few weeks.

The runway to book on the shelves is not particularly short — even if I sell this thing to a major publishing house tomorrow, it'd probably take at least a year — but I'll get the finished product to you as quickly as I can. :)

Land of the Blind Act I: Prologue and part of Chapter 1

Working Title: In the Land of the Blind

© 2008-2010 James Callaghan. All Rights Reserved.

Prologue

Day Zero

They lay on their backs on the hood of Ramiero's battered old hand-me-down car, two teenagers gazing at the stars. It was a clear night, and the Ripple was plainly visible in the heavens. They held hands shyly, the silence equal parts awkward and comfortable.

Ramiero snuck a look at the girl, who was looking skyward. Amber was beautiful, her hair a dull copper color, her skin tawny and lustrous; his eyes tracked to the swell of her breasts under the light dress she was wearing and immediately he forced them away.

He didn't understand her interest in the Ripple; the heavens held little attraction to him. But her interest made him study up. He knew it was heading to Earth, but no one knew what it was or what it would do to the planet when it arrived. The news guys said it was just a curious, maybe purely visual phenomenon and counseled calm, even as they noted that scientists were a little concerned with the wavefront's speed.

"They say it might reach the moon tonight," Ramiero said haltingly, his English uncertain. He'd spent several minutes composing the sentence in his head, and he regretted the attempt even as he made it.

"It's beautiful," Amber said at the same time.

They looked at each other, both startled by the others' speech. As quickly, embarrassed, they both looked away; Amber to the sky; Ramiero to the moonlit field they'd parked in. He pretended to examine a nearby bush and trying to ignore his burning ears; he wondered if she would let him feel her breasts later, when they got to the making out part of their date. The thought made his cheeks flush, increasing his discomfort.

He tried to keep his breathing even, but he couldn't take his eyes off the bush, even as he was acutely aware of the pressure of her thigh against his, of her hand in his, her skin cool and dry. His own hand was becoming clammy with nervous sweat, and he was torn between wanting to wipe it off and not wanting to break contact.

He was glad he'd brought her here though; it was isolated and dark, ostensibly perfect to cater to Amber's interest in the Ripple, but in reality well suited to Ramiero's own interests.

Then Amber gasped. He turned his head so quickly his neck popped loudly in the silence.

"What happened?" he said, looking anxiously at her. She didn't respond; her eyes were wide, her mouth slack. Ramiero followed her gaze and froze.

Seconds ago, the RIpple had been a strange fluctuation across a wide band of the sky, the effect like looking at stars reflected on distant, choppy water. Now the moon itself was affected; the silver disc elongating and bifurcating; its light splintering into a trillion argentine shards. The rest of the night sky fared no better; constellations were sundered or compressed into alien configurations. Some stars seemed to vanish, others to swell.

It dawned on Amber first: "If it's filling the whole sky..." she breathed. "Ramiero, it must be really close!" She pulled her hand away from his and rolled off the hood. "We shouldn't be outside," she said as she fumbled with the door. Ramiero was still frozen, staring at the hallucinogenic sky. "Ramiero, we need to go back. I want you to take me home, please!"

Ramiero came to himself at her cry and looked at her. She was frantic, crying. She got the car door open and scrambled inside. He rolled off the hood and lunged for the door handle, her panic infecting him. He forgot about her breasts, her thighs. She was afraid, and he had to protect her.

Amber pushed the door open from inside; Ramiero pulled it the rest of the way and slid into the car. He fumbled with his keys, shooting glances out and up, seeing the loco light show intensify. Amber's panicky breathing loud in his ears.

And then the Ripple was upon them, catching them in a wave of unreality.

To Ramiero's terrified eyes, the steering wheel, his hands still gripping it, flowed away from him; his arms were stretched painlessly to three times their normal length. At the same time the car seemed to compress horizontally, the roof crowding down on their heads. Their nerves were on fire, screaming signals to their brains that made no sense. Ramiero looked at Amber and found her staring at him, her mouth open in a soundless scream. One of her eyes was nearly a foot wide, one of her breasts protruding almost a yard from her chest; her legs seemed endless, disappearing into the shadows of the footwell that was now several yards away. Ramiero's eyes skittered back to his own hands which were still clamped to the steering wheel. He could feel the cool plastic under his fingers but his white-knuckled fists were tiny in the distance.

And then everything snapped back to normal with shocking suddenness. In unison, both teenagers threw open the car doors and leaned out, stomachs heaving. The vomiting seemed to last forever; some of the stomach acid went up Ramiero's nose, making his sinuses burn and his eyes water even more. His whole body was shaking and weak. He wanted to check on Amber but he couldn't muster the strength to sit up or turn to look at her.

He took a deep breath, determined to try, and that's when the second wave hit.

This one was like the first, only worse. To Ramiero it seemed to last forever, yet he was frozen with his eyes still screwed shut and his mouth open. He was still drawing in breath, and it seemed like his lungs were limitless in capacity as his inhalation continued into eternity.

Once more the world snapped back, but when Ramiero opened his eyes, reality seemed warped, stretched out. Everything was the same as always and yet... not. Their car was illuminated, but not by moonlight. This light was harsher, brighter. It wasn't silver but rather a mixture of colors.

Ramiero felt the car shift slightly as Amber got out of the car. He followed suit, shaky legs planting feet that felt like a stranger's into the hard-packed dirt of the lane. He stood and looked around. He saw It almost at once. It was only a few yards away from the car, on the passenger side. It was white in the center but the edges were all colors; the light it cast was like sitting in church, awash in the radiance of stained glass windows.

Amber was already approaching it, her face alight in terrified wonder. "Amber," he called. "Be careful!"

"It's so beautiful," she said. She raised her hands, looked at them bathed in the peculiar light. She was entranced. "I can feel the light," she breathed. "I can feel it with my hands." She turned, her eyes bright. "Ramiero it's like silk----are you glowing?"

Ramiero had been walking around the back of the car, approaching Amber and the thing cautiously. At Amber's words, he stopped in his tracks, perplexed. She was staring at him now, her hands still gripping the light. Ramiero raised his own hands to his face, his eyes widening in shock.

Warm golden light was pouring from deep within his skin. He could still see his hands and the skin itself; there were light and dark patches. He pulled up his shirt; the effect was all over his body. He was glowing, casting light like the sun. He stared at himself in horrified wonder. He looked up at Amber. "What is happening to me?" And then his shirt caught fire. And his pants, and shoes. Ramiero screamed in shock but before he could react further, his clothes were burned away, ashes floating on the wind. The fire hadn't touched him.

His glow outshone the thing now, his radiance spreading. As was the heat. The dry grass along the side of the dirt lane began to smolder. Amber was sweating, her breath coming hard in the sudden heat. "Ramiero, what are you doing?"

"I don't know!" he cried. "I am not doing it!"

A loud crash made them both look toward the car. Its paint was blistering; the wheels melting. The noise had come from the back windows shattering.

Eyes wide, the two looked at each other. Then Ramiero shouted: "RUN!"

Amber turned in slow motion. Ramiero wobbled around own his heel and lurched away, in a different direction. As he ran, his fear grew, as did the terrible glow in his skin. His footprints were clearly outlined in fire; grass and trees even yards distant broke out in spontaneous flames.

Then he tripped, and the world exploded.

Chapter One

THEN

Every great Event across all the Fictions includes a catalyst. No one has really figured out why this is yet, but it's documented truth.

Definitions, people. You should note these down. Event: A major turning point in the evolution of humankind. This typically involves evolution of some or all humans into what we call Numinai: People with abilities not considered within the range of baseline humanity. In other fictions, the terms for such people include "mutant", "metahuman", "posthuman", "specials", "powers", and the ever-popular "freaks".

Fiction: Any one of the different planes of reality, some much like our own, some not. In the past, these were of course stuff of science fiction stories and comic books (much like the Numinai phenomenon). Some postulated that fictions were merely different timelines; for example, an alternate timeline where Hitler won World War II.

We now know it's a lot more complicated than that. Fictions have been contacted which are almost identical to popular novel series, movies, comic books, and so on. That's in addition to what could be considered much more closely related "alternate timelines". So we don't know what they really are. We only know they're out there, and we can travel amongst them.

But the point of all this, class, is that the Event is not the catalyst. The Event is what happens as a result of the catalyst. People get so wrapped up in the Event, that they forget about the catalyst. In some fictions, that catalyst was the advent of the nuclear bomb, and the attendant radioactivity unleashed. In others, it was First Contact. In still another, a sort of "mini-Event" occurred with every solar eclipse. They still haven't figured that one out; nor have we.

A catalyst is almost always a significant threat to life as we know it, the possibility of the End of Everything. It's never something so simple as the turn of the millennium, nor can it be considered to have happened when the advance is solely technological.

Our catalyst was, of course, the Ripple and the concomitant Rifts in the fabric of reality.

Many of you are too young to remember that day. But everyone knows what happened next: The Event.

That Event shaped our world as it is today. Our world is still evolving, mind you; our society is still being rebuilt.

Some people think that the Manhattan Incident is the turning point, is what should be considered the Event. But remember your definitions! The Event is the advent of superhuman abilities in a significant percentage of the human population. In our fiction, that percentage was unusually high: over half. Add to that another fifteen percent who gained technological advances from other worlds. Add to that the influx of alien life forms via Rift-related displacement.

In other fictions the numbers run something on the order of 50-70% of the population being directly affected on a regular basis following an Event. That means even if someone doesn't personally develop abilities, up to about two-thirds of the population personally knows someone who does or are directly influenced by someone who does.

In our fiction, those numbers went up to 100%. Near as we can tell, not one human being on the planet wasn't directly and profoundly affected by the Rifts in the decade that followed.

And society nearly collapsed as a result.

Act I / Chapter 10 / Scene: Jonothan

Working Title: In the Land of the Blind

© 2008-2010 James Callaghan. All Rights Reserved.

Jonothan

Jonothan was used to being around famous people, was used to being famous himself. He would have thought himself immune to starstrikes -- until Sid clambered out of the airbus and grinned at those assembled on the rooftop. Jonothan's jaw dropped, and he heard his own gasp as though at a distance.

Mike looked at him. "You okay, there, Jon?"

He grabbed Mike's shoulder. "That's..." he gasped out. Has to be -- that hair is unmistakable.

"Take a breath," Mike said with a grin. "Yeah, that's Sid Walker from Generation Gap. I take it you're a fan?"

Jonothan nodded dumbly. "Me and Tiff both," he said. "We've seen them in concert like ten times."

Mike's grin broadened. "Hey Sid," he shouted. "You've got a fan over here!"

Sid hopped down and made his way over, stopping to greet Renee with a bear hug. Then he was standing in front of Jonothan. Sid was a tall guy, his lean, inked body on display under a dark leather vest. He looked every inch the rock star, from his long black hair, tipped with electric blue, to his fashionably clunky boots. He smiled at Jonothan, said: "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"You actually have, Sid. The Lost Night, Jonothan was there too," Mike said.

Jonothan looked at Mike, incredulous. "He was there, too? You didn't tell me that!"

Sid laughed. "I wasn't that famous then; that was before I joined Gap. So you're a Numinai, then?"

"Oh, of course," Mike said. "Manners. Lambda Three Sid Walker, meet Alpha Three Jonothan Thebom -- also known, back in the day, as Flare."

It was Sid's turn to be impressed. "It's an honor, sir," he said, extending a hand. To Mike, he said, "That's right, you mentioned the Heroes were there that night."

From behind Sid, Celeste said, "'Lost Night'?" Mike's sister raised an eyebrow.

Mike shook his head. "Story for another time. Have CAM tell you about it while we're away, if he's got time. It's only his favorite story."

"Yeah," said Chris, a tall, thin man with a shock of sandy blond hair. "That's the story of how he finally evaded house arrest. Thanks to me, I might add."

Mike raised his hands. "Okay, enough of this shit," he said. "We need to get going, now Sid's here. Chris, I need you -- well, CAM, actually -- to have a look a Sid's bus. We need to get to the Island a bit faster than the five or six hours that heap will take."

"Heap?" Sid protested in mock indignation. "That, sir, is a Mercedez-Benz. That's the finest airbus on the market. Set me back enough, anyway."

"Right, you worry about money," Mike said. "You probably had your butler buy it for you."

"Fuck off," Sid riposted. "So what do you want Chris to do to it. Or CAM, or whatever?"

Chris sighed, closed his eyes. To Jonothan, the man seemed to blur, although he was standing still. Jonothan blinked a couple times. Mike caught him at it. "That's CAM coming out to play," he said. "Chris is CAM's host."

Jonothan looked at him blankly. Mike said, "Okay, CAM's alien nanoware, right. Billions of little robots. He infected our building when it was off-planet and came with us when we came back."

Confused, Jonothan said, "He? I thought you said CAM was a machine."

"Self-aware machine, thanks," an eerily treble voice said from Chris' mouth. "Problem is, it's part of my programming that I can't leave the host building. Then Chris came along, I saved his life -- but I had to take over his body in order to do it. Chris is mobile, hence so am I!"

"Later, later, later," Mike said, impatient. "Sid, you okay with him monkeying with your car or not?"

"Yeah, okay sure," the musician said. "Do what you have to. In the meantime -- I came to help, Mike, but I'm telling you: You're fucking nuts."

"I've been telling him that," Renee said.

"We all have," Celeste confirmed.

"Oh ye of little faith," Mike said. "I've been in worse scrapes, with less backup."

"You had us," Willow said quietly.

"Not at first, I didn't."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jonothan exploded. "Mike, you have way too goddamn much back story, man."

"I have indeed lived a full life," Mike said, unperturbed. "CAM. How long?"

That weird treble voice called out from the bus: "At the tone, it will be seven minutes, forty-three seconds. Beep."

Shaking his head, Mike said: "Is it just me, or has Chris given CAM a sense of humor?"

"Okay, seriously though, Mike," Sid said. "I'm a Lambda class. Barely. You want to take me and who else now? Against a island populated by Epsilons and up?"

"First of all," Mike said, sitting in one of the chairs. He waved at the others to find a seat, paused as he plucked a cigarette out of the air. "First of all, I'm hoping to avoid any real fighting. Honestly, this is really more a courtesy call than anything else. If I wanted to, I could pop in there, grab Grace and Tiffany, pop back, all by myself and there wouldn't be a damn thing Sol or any other Protector could do about it. Okay?" He looked sternly around the table. "The reason I'm NOT doing that is it won't solve the real issue. Which is that Sol has a beef with me. I'm betting it's because I've been training you guys and he somehow found out, and he's freaking out over it.

"Now, there's a possibility -- a very low one, I'm afraid -- that Sol's not gone totally bugfuck, and I can reason with him. Then we all walk out of there friends and everyone goes home happy. That future does exist. Unfortunately, it was so hard for me to find that future it may as well be wishful thinking, so I'm bringing you lot in.

"Here's the deal: Jon needs to be there because of his wife. I need Chris because through CAM he provides a link back here. That way everyone who stays home knows what's going on. I need you along because, frankly, you're one of the only other people I can count on who has long-range energy powers. Most of my contacts are either a little more hands-on, or they're psions, and I'm not handing Sol any more psions.

"Plus, Sid -- your particular abilities might prove essential."

"Wait," Jonothan said. "That's right, Mike said you were a Lambda Three! That's not public knowledge -- I didn't even know that."

Sid grimaced. "I'm not a real fan of my ability," he said. "It's not something I advertise particularly. But I can generate electricity."

Jonothan looked at him, then at Mike. "So this helps in not fighting, Mike?"

"It might," Mike said, blowing smoke rings. "Look, I've scanned the probability lines as thoroughly and as far as I could, okay. I'm trying to cover all the contingencies I can see."

"But you can't see everything," Renee said, startling Jonothan. The wild-haired woman was sitting on a bench a few yards away, her back to the group. She had her tarot cards laid out on the bench in front of her.

"No," Mike responded.

"Nor can I," she said, speaking so low Jonothan could barely hear her. She looked over her shoulder at those sitting around the table. Her eyes were glowing green. "Mike, the Tower keeps coming up. I don't think it's going to happen to Sol. Something bad is going to happen to you. That's why you can't see it. Why none of us can."

Sid scoffed. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't see the future if something bad happens? I thought you guys did that all the time."

Mike stubbed out his cigarette and said soberly, "Certain events affect the ability. It's kind of hard to explain. Precognition is the bitchiest talent to handle, because there are so many variables."

"Not psychometry, Mike?" Celeste asked wryly. Mike waved her off, but she kept talking. "Listen, why don't you add Yencid to your little guerilla force? He wants to help."

"Hacker?" Mike said. "How's he going to help? We've got a ride and we don't need a cyberjockey."

From behind Celeste, the silvery shape of her craft flowed rapidly into a humanoid form, a few inches shorter than Celeste. It spoke: "Hola Mike."

Mike sat up. "Yencid? You've learned to shape shift that body?"

The silvery form nodded its featureless head. "The symbship was designed to be malleable."

Jonothan looked at Sid, who stared blankly back at him. The rocker mouthed, Too much bloody back story. Jonothan startled everyone by bursting out laughing. They stared at him, but he waved them off, shaking his head. Sid shrugged and said something to Renee. Jonothan wasn't listening. His breathing was coming in irregular snorts; he didn't know if he was laughing or crying. He tried to subdue himself, but he could tell he was skating perilously close to hysteria. I need to let it out, like Willow said, he thought.

You have a couple hours to try, Mike sent. It's still going to be a long trip.

Damn it, he thought back, glaring at Mike. Can't a man have privacy in his own skull around here?

Mike met his gaze, and although he looked young enough to be Renee's son rather than her brother, his eyes looked ancient. Ancient and tired. I'm sorry, Jonothan, he sent. But I've been monitoring you all afternoon. Willow was right, I can't have you cracking up at a bad time. For my sake -- and for Tiffany's.

Can't you, like, give me a psychic Prozac or something? I can't handle this shit like the old days, Mike. I'm not a Hero anymore; I'm a middle-aged dad.

Mike closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It's really not that simple, Jonothan. I can force changes on you, sure, but that whole "mental domination" thing is pretty dangerous. I avoid that shit with enemies, much less friends.

"I just want to stay calm," Jonothan burst out, leaping to his feet. His Rift fluttered on his chest, responding to his agitation. All other conversation ceased. Everyone was staring at him. "I need to set these emotions aside, Mike, just for tonight, until this is over. You can do that for me!"

Mike remained seated, looked up at Jonothan wearily. "It's not that simple, Jon. The emotions would still be there, just bottled tighter. Why do you think people on anti-depressants sometimes blow up so drastically? Because eventually those emotions can't be contained anymore, and they'll come out any way they can find. The smallest damn thing could set you off."

"But I'm talking for one night, man," Jonothan protested. "A few hours, not days or months!"

Now Mike stood, leveling his blue eyes with Jonothan's brown. "My power is stronger than any drug, Jonothan. You need to know what you're asking for here. If I shut down your emotions, they could stay shut down a lot harder and for a lot longer. It won't wear off. You'll just go insane, unless I'm able to reverse it. And that's if I even can reverse it; these things, sometimes they take a little too well."

Jonothan was crying now. "I've got faith in you, man. But I can't focus right now, and Tiffany needs me. Please, I'm going crazy here."

"No," Mike said flatly. "There's nothing wrong with your emotions under the circumstances, Jonothan. It hurts when someone you love is taken from you. Feeling nothing, that would be crazy. Bottling it up, that would be crazy."

"Oh," Jonothan said, shouting again. "So it's okay for you, and not for me, huh?" The Rift flared again under his shirt, casting shifting shadows in the growing gloom. "Willow told me you've been shutting your friends out, Mike. That you've been hiding what you're going through. So why is it okay for YOU to suppress your emotions and not me, huh? Tell me that!"

"It's different for me."

"How different could it possibly fucking BE?"

They stared at each other for several seconds, Jonothan glaring through his tears, Mike apparently impassive. No one else spoke. No one else moved.

Then Mike said: "When you can kill with a thought, Jonothan, you learn to be careful what you think." He grimaced, and his eyes flared blue for an instant. "Fine, you got what you wanted. On your head be it."

Jonothan blinked as Mike strode away. He wiped his face, noticed that he no longer felt like crying, no longer felt angry. His tensed muscles were relaxing. "Hmph," he said, but even surprise was beyond him. "Interesting."

Sid looked at him, looked at Mike's departing figure. "Well," he said. "That was dramatic."

Jonothan opened his mouth to reply, but Mike's telepathic message cut him off: Get on board. We're leaving. Now.

The Australian Incursion

From Act I of my current book, working title: In the Land of the Blind.

© 2008-2010 James Callaghan. All rights reserved.

THEN

Five years after the Event -- after the day of the Ripple -- was the defining mission for the Heroes. And by extension, the defining moment for the Numinai. It marked the first time national governments solved a problem on an international stage using a Numinai strike force.

It also marked one of the very first international efforts following the Event, period. The powers that be -- those that remained -- decided that a concerted effort was needed in order to remind the planetary populace that there was more to life than their own neighborhoods.

We know now that the Heroes’ actions were the public face of this action, that hundreds of other military Numinai were involved in addition to traditional forces. Everything from medical to black ops. But the Heroes were by no means figureheads. Some of the most powerful people on the planet comprised the early team of Heroes. Make no mistake -- they did most of the real work.

The Australian Incursion. Seven Numinai, some already world-famous, were called upon by the American, British and Asian governments to solve the Australia problem.

Most of you have heard about this; the Lizards are this era’s boogeymen. But here are the facts as we know them now: In the days immediately following the Event, Australia was subjected to a full-scale invasion -- via Rifts -- by the Lizard race. As you can see from the holograph there, Lizards looked sort of like purple dinosaurs. But don’t mistake physical similarity with mental. These bastards were smart. Vicious, but smart.

They had a taste for human flesh the way humans like beef. And when they invaded Australia, they overran the continent, but fast. They had the technology to chart the Rifts, they knew exactly where to come out of them to do the most damage.

The Australians fought back. They fought hard and well, but they were already completely destabilized by the same confusion and panic every other nation in the world was going through. The military, and with it the government, fell in a matter of months. Probably more than half the continent’s population, clustered as they were in the big cities, was decimated in that same time period.

The Lizards corralled up the survivors and instituted a slave society -- with a twist: Slaves were also food.

It took a few years for the rest of the world’s governments to find out what had happened. Realize, nearly every country had its hands full taking care of internal business. For more than two years, world affairs simply didn’t exist. By the time Australia’s fate was known, New Zealand had already been annexed, as well as Papua New Guinea. It looks like the plan was to make their way up the Archipelago and spread into Indochina. Someone in Singapore discovered it and blew the whistle.

Three years later our planet’s leaders got their act together enough to do something about it. China had been screaming for help for months; in desperation, they finally nuked several islands in the Southeast Asian Archipelago.

That’s when the Heroes entered the international stage.

The Australian Incursion: Sol

“We need your help with damage control,” the captain said. “It’s our understanding you can control radiation?”

Sol looked at the man, noting that his heat signature was strongest in his center -- where all his blood had pooled. The man was terrified. Of what, Sol didn’t know. Or care. “That is too broad a statement, captain.” He looked around the office, at the mostly human staff who were bustling around the cabin of the army transport. All were armed, he noted. All were afraid, like the captain. Sol closed his eyes and checked his position. They were still flying east. They should have turned south by now. “Why haven’t we started south, captain? I was given to understand the target was Australia.”

The captain’s eyes widened, and he swallowed. He was an older man, his hair mostly white. He had spent his whole life being near the top of the food chain, of having the kind of power most people only dreamed about. And for the last five years, he’d been having to get used to the idea that he was no longer anywhere near the top of the food chain. “Err... the rendezvous is in Singapore,” he said. “You’ll meet the other members of your team there.”

Sol smiled slightly, his eyes widened a fraction. “My team, you say? Am I to be the leader?”

The captain shifted in his seat. He was sweating a little now, despite the aggressive air-conditioning. “Corporal Tocean has the final briefing for you all,” he said. “My job is to get you there -- and to find out about the radiation. Won’t you sit, um, Sol?”

The Spaniard turned then, and broke his almost military posture to place his hands on the captain’s desk. His dark eyes bored into those of the other man, who flinched at the sudden motion. “Yes, I can control radiation, captain. Yes, I am Sol. That word means sun, captain, and I didn’t choose that name for myself by accident. The sun is the most powerful force on this earth, and its power is my power.” He stood as suddenly as he’d bent, turned his back on the captain and walked away. Over his shoulder, he said, “I will lead the team. Contact me when we arrive at the rendezvous.” Then he was out of the office.

The captain stared after him for several moments, then heaved a sigh of relief. His heart rate had almost returned to normal when he noticed the palm prints burned into the metal surface of his desk.

* * *

Sol strode into the briefing room like he owned the place, head high, his white suit gleaming under the fluorescents. Ignoring the human military personnel, he faced the Numinai scattered amongst the stadium seats. “I am Sol,” he said. He blinked then. “There are only nine of you. Where are the others?”

The Army official at the podium cleared his throat. “We have more than one team of Numinai, Sol. Most of them are military. These are the civilians who, like you, have agreed to assist us.”

Sol turned on the man. “More than one team? I was given to understand that I would be leading the Numinai attack on the invaders. What do you expect me to do with nine?”

Though he apparently held a lower rank than the last Army representative Sol had confronted, this man was not afraid. He met Sol’s angry eyes with bland indifference. “Sit down, Mr. Gutierrez, and all will become clear. This is, after all, the mission briefing.”

Sol ground his teeth. The gleam of his suit was abruptly not metaphorical; the temperature in the room rose sharply. “My name is Sol, Corporal.”

Then someone was at his elbow. He was taller than Sol, and dressed casually in jeans and a black t-shirt. His blue eyes had cat-like pupils. Long auburn hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. On his face was a friendly smile. He stuck out his hand and said, “Hi Sol! I’m Mike. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you -- I’ve heard about your work in Spain and northern Africa. Quite impressive!”

An entirely different glow enveloped the Numinai; calm descended. His simmering anger of a moment ago was forgotten. The temperature lowered. He looked at Mike for a moment appraisingly, then accepted the handshake. “I do not believe I’ve heard of you, señor,” Sol said politely.

Mike shrugged. “I keep a low profile,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, let’s have a seat and hear what Corporal Tocean has for us, huh?” He clapped Sol on the shoulder and turned it into a gently guiding pressure. He glanced at the corporal and winked.

Tocean’s eyebrows rose slightly; one eyelid drooped for a fraction of a second before he was clearing his throat again and shuffling papers. He addressed the group. “We’ve been gathering intelligence for the past several months, and we believe with the manpower we’ve gathered, we can make this a fairly rapid campaign.

“Your role in this effort is primarily search and rescue; you’re to be the public face of the effort. Your objective is simple: Get as many humans as possible out of harm’s way before the real fighting starts. Once that’s been done, you’ll be involved in some of the tactical strikes, that sort of thing, but at that point much of the work is going to be done by our own people.”

Sol started to speak up hotly, but Mike beat him to it smoothly. “Corporal, correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought everyone in this group was top-tier talent. Wouldn’t it make more sense to have us on the primary offensive?”

There were murmurs of agreement from the others in the room.

Tocean raised his hands to silence them. “At first glance, Mr. York, you would be correct. However, our analysts have determined that you all would be more valuable as examples, role models, to the rest of the world. It is our hope and intention that once you’ve successfully concluded your involvement here, you will continue to work together as a group. A team of heroes, as it were. It would encourage people to use their abilities in a responsible fashion and also give them the comfort that criminal elements would be seen to by beings of demonstrable competence and power.

“You are among the most powerful, true, but the fact is you’re the ones who have already been acting out of some kind of social consciousness. There is a lot of ‘looking out for number one’ going on right now; we need people to snap out of it, and we feel setting you lot up on a pedestal is the best way to do this.

“As part of your public personae, you will each be required to assume designations appropriate to your abilities; distinctive garb will be issued so each team member will be instantly recognizable.”

Sol liked what he was hearing. “In other words, general, you want us to be the world’s Numinai celebrities.”

The general nodded. “That’s it in a nutshell, Mr. Gutierrez.”

Mike snorted. “Sounds to me like you’re pulling out every superhero cliche you can find, in the process,” he said. “Tell me you’re not going to make us wear domino masks.”

Tocean cleared his throat and said, “You will notice one of your number is an alien, this will also put a more positive slant on extraterrestrial relations.”

Sol turned at Tocean’s gesture, as did the others. In the shadowed back row sat a hulking, shaggy figure. “Bear, would you please come out here and meet the rest of the team?”

Chairs groaned as the figure’s weight shifted. Standing, the creature was at least eight feet tall, and probably four or five wide. He stepped into the light. He did indeed look somewhat ursine, yet that was but a facile comparison. The alien was clearly no relation to any creature on Earth. It had shaggy sand-brown hair, long arms that appeared to terminate in a pair of clawed sucker pads. Its snout was pointed, with a quivering purple nose over a mouthful of sharp-looking teeth. It said, “Herrrrrrrooo. Mah name Bear.”

Sol was astonished. “It speaks English?!”

Tocean smiled. “Don’t let his appearance mislead you, ladies and gentlemen. Bear comes from a much more advanced culture than ours. He’s probably smarter and knows more than anyone present.”

Someone on Sol’s right snorted. “We’ll see about that,” a feminine voice said.

Tocean surprised everyone by grinning. “We may as well do the rest of the introductions now, I suppose. You all know who Sol is, now. The rest of you, when I’ll call out your name, please stand and give a short description of your abilities. And I guess we’ll start with you, Jessica.”

A slender and very pretty black girl in the first row stood. “Hi guys, I’m Jessica and I can fly really fast.”

Interested in spite of himself, Sol said, “How fast is ‘really fast’?”

Jessica’s teeth were blinding against her dark skin. “Hell if I know, sun-boy. You think this bod has a speedometer built in?”

“Actually, we’ve clocked Jess flying in excess of Mach 6.” Tocean said.

“Heh. Yeah, so... really fast,” Mike said with a grin.

Tocean gestured to him, and he stood. “Right so, I’m Mike. I’m a psion.”

“An’ what the ‘ell does that mean then?” This was from a thin man a few seats over, sitting indolently with his feet on the rail.

“Ah,” Mike said with a delighted grin, “A Brit! From North London if I’m not mistaken. What that means, chap, is that I have psychic abilities. I can do stuff with me mind and that.”

The British man snorted. “Ye can’t do an accent for shite though mate. What’s psychic goin to do fer us then? You’re going to bash them with yer crystal ball?”

Mike’s grin didn’t falter. “Actually, Philip, if you’d been paying attention instead of mentally undressing Jessica and Tiffany for the past ten minutes, you’ve have heard that we’re pretty much the most powerful humans on the planet. That’d tell you right there I got something rather better than a crystal ball.”

Phil’s feet hit the ground as he shot upright, and spots of color appeared on high on his cheeks. “Say that again, you wanker.”

“Ah, you heard me, Philip,” Mike said. He seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “And your reaction pretty much proves that I was right, doesn’t it? Also that you hate being called ‘Philip’. I think we’ve pretty much established you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, haven’t we?”

Phil took a step forward, and abruptly stopped. Mike was waving a finger in the air. “Ah ah ah, Mr. Cross. No need to get violent. I called you out because you were thinking pretty hard about trying to score a three-way. The whole ‘we might die tomorrow’ schtick. And I don’t believe either of the ladies in question would welcome any such advance from you. Considering we’re about to go into hostile territory, I thought it wise to nip the situation in the bud. Because, after all, we need you in one piece, and if I’d let you go on your merry way, Tiffany would probably have hospitalized you.”

The spots vanished from Phil’s face, and his jaw dropped. Mike shrugged. “Told you. Psychic. You want particulars? Telepathy and telekinesis. And no parlor trick crap like you’ve seen. I’m in this room for a reason. Corporal? I suggest we proceed.”

Tocean closed his own mouth and blinked a couple times. “Well,” he said, “Since you’re already standing, Phil, why don’t you go ahead?”

Phil, looking like he’d bitten something sour, addressed the group. “Phil Cross. I can change my shape, control my density and all that.” To Mike, he snarled, “This isn’t over between us, mindraper.” He flounced back in his seat, putting his feet back on the rail and crossing his arms.

Next was a white girl, blue eyed and dirty blond hair. She stood, her ample breasts drawing Phil’s eyes. She noticed, crossed her arms over them and turned her back on him to address the rest of the group: “Tiffany. I’m from California. I can control water.” She gave Phil a withering look over one shoulder. “Mike was right, Phillip. I would have frozen every drop of water in your body if you’d tried anything with me. Believe it.” She sat, her back still to the Englishman.

“I’m Jonothan,” said the brawny African-American man who had been sitting next to her. Light gleamed under his shirt. “I have, uh, a Rift in my chest. It uh, somehow does what I want. It usually sends out blasts of energy but I’m pretty sure it can do other things.” He looked around a little self-consciously, then took his seat.

Next was a Latino whose forearms were bulky under his long-sleeved shirt. “My name is Roberto,” he said with a heavy Tex-Mex accent. “I’ve developed these gauntlets that allow me to focus my will. They can also fire energy.”

“Sounds like artificial telekinesis to me,” Mike mused. “That about right?”

Roberto nodded and shrugged at the same time. “I don’t know, I guess. I got a lot of the ideas and parts from an alien wreck. So I know how to use them, but not really everything about how they work.”

“Hmph. Fair enough,” Mike said. “You must use them pretty well to be in this room. I can’t wait to see you in action.”

Roberto smiled and sat.

“That’ll be pretty soon,” Tocean remarked. “You’re scheduled to mobilize at 0700 tomorrow.” The corporal gestured to the remaining two Numinai, both in Army uniform: “Major Breakdown and Lt. Febris are in charge of the military forces that will be accompanying you; they are, of course, themselves Numinai.

“It’s vitally important that the entire offensive start at the same time, so even though some of you could be in the fight sooner -- like Jessica -- we need you to use standard transport, which will get you there approximately 1200 hours.”

But as it turned out, the Lizards had plans of their own.

* * *

EVERYBODY UP! BATTLE STATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT, NOT A DRILL. THE BLOODY LIZARDS ARE COMING! THEY’RE COMING NOW!

The alarm tore through the minds of everyone in Camp Hannibal, the Singapore staging point for the Australian Incursion, dispelling sleep instantly. For the military, reaction was instantaneous; soldiers were strapping into their combat exoskeletons before their eyes were fully open. For nascent Heroes, however, getting ready for battle was a rather different experience. One second they were in bed, then all of them abruptly found themselves on the observation deck of the base tower.

Mike York stood looking out to sea, motionless but for the wind whipping his hair.

“What the hell?” Sol said, trying to shake off his disorientation. He followed Mike’s gaze, but didn’t see anything but night-shrouded sea and sky.

Mike spoke: “They’re out of range of the instruments right now. Not clear on whether the Army’s instruments would pick them up anyway. Their vessels, there’s no intel on them. The Lizards somehow managed to keep their technological aptitude and hardware a secret from the recon missions.

“If I hadn’t gotten a future shock -- they’d have hit us too hard, too fast. It would’ve been very bad for us.” He grinned suddenly, a very different smile from the friendly one he’d used so readily that afternoon. This smile was cold and humorless. “It’s up to us to make it very bad for them.”

“Wait, YOU woke everyone up?” Jessica demanded. “Did you bring us here, too?”

Mike spared her a glance. “Yes,” he said simply. “We need to launch a preemptive strike, now, before the bulk of the enemy force has arrived. Cut down the numbers, so what does make it through to the base can easily be handled by the people here.”

Sol interrupted: “Who do you think you are? I’m the leader of this team, York.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Mike snarled. He whirled, his blue eyes glowing. “Have you got real combat experience, Ramiero? Have you led others into battle? I know you haven’t; you know you haven’t. But I have. So right now, let’s nail these purple bitches and we can sort out the pecking order later, all right?”

Taken aback, Sol nodded dumbly.

“Good,” Mike said, and turned to the others. “This one’s not gonna be televised, it’s not going to be public, this one is NOT for the viewers at home. We can’t afford any glory hounds or grandstand plays; we also can’t afford the slightest mercy to these creatures. They have superior numbers, technology and have a genetic and cultural imperative to kill. What we’ve got is free will, foresight and firepower the likes of which they’ve never seen. So we need to press that advantage, and we need to press it hard and fast. Understood?”

There were nods all around. Mike continued: “When I teleported you, I took the liberty of suiting you up as well, with these military outfits. Those suits have a lot of gadgets built in, like radio, status displays, shit like that. Ignore all that for now. I’ll coordinate telepathically. But general formation: Sol, Jess, you’re our flyers. The two of you are in charge of aerial assault. Roberto, if you think you can fight and fly at the same time, you’re with Sol and Jess. I want Sol on point. Tiffany, I need you to make things unpleasant for the ones traveling by sea? We need waves, fog, freezes -- whatever you can do, all right? Bear, Phil, Jonothan, you three are better suited to close-quarters fighting, so I’m pretty much going to give you guys a section of their armada and have you do your thing. Same goes for our two military friends -- got it?

“Oh shit, that reminds me -- you guys haven’t got your ‘hero names’ yet. So forget that for now, okay? We’ll be on a first-name basis for this one.”

“First of all,” Phil blustered, “What makes you more qualified than the Major to lead us? And second, what the hell will you be doing?”

Mike turned his back on the Englishman, returning his gaze on the dark sea. “I’ll be keeping you all alive.” The tower lurched, and Sol felt his stomach drop. Phil raced to the railing, looked over the edge. The others followed. They were already over water, the whole observation platform severed from the tower. Wind whipped their hair back as the makeshift transport gained speed.

Everyone looked at Mike, eyes wide. “We’ll be in range in ten minutes,” Mike said calmly. His eyes glowed bright blue in the darkness. “Get ready.”

* * *

The Lizard armada, spread over hundreds of miles though it was, all learned of the counter-attack when night suddenly became day. Sol, placed in the air well ahead of the others, cut loose with a blinding glare. The disruption was immediate. Ships that appeared made of chunks of Australian mainland grafted with arcane machinery veered off course, their electronics fried by Sol’s electro-magnetic pulse.

Sol didn’t let them recover; glowing so brightly he indeed could have been his namesake, he generated prominences of superheated plasma that carved out a swathe of the fleet and turned the surrounding liquid into gas. Collateral damage took a heavy toll on nearby ships; several began to founder.

Sol, bogeys headed your way 12 to 3 o’clock.

“What the hell does that mean?” Sol shouted.

A sigh echoed in his head and he found himself turning his head, to look to his right. A picture of a clock face appeared in his mind. It’s to tell you where to look, Mike explained. And THOSE are bogeys. MOVE!

Sol jetted upward, barely avoiding the blasts from the flyers. They appeared to be biological, resembling bluish pterodactyls -- but their speed and weaponry made Sol wonder. He closed his eyes and picked them out in the magnetosphere. There was plenty of metal in them, but the EMP hadn’t affected their flight much, so they were probably not run by computer.

They were already banking, trying to bring their weapons to bear. There were three of them in a wedge formation. Sol clenched a fist in preparation to generate another prominence.

Negative, Sol, Mike cautioned. Your wingmate is here. Focus on the ships; she’ll take care of the flyers.

If Sol had been using his eyes rather than his awareness, he wouldn’t have seen what took down the flyers. As it was, Jessica’s passage left a trail of heated air in the atmosphere; invisible to the naked eye, a glaring red pretzel in the air to Sol’s perception.

She punched through the first one, nearly tearing it apart; made an impossible midair hairpin turn to knock its wingmate’s head off. The creature was dead and falling before it knew what happened to it. The third had time to fire its weapons once before it too was plunging to the sea below. It was fait accompli in less than two seconds, and she streaked off in search of new targets.

Okay team, I need you all to activate your transponders and HUDs; you need to be aware of each others’ positions to avoid friendly-fire casualties. Oh, and don’t even try to keep track of Jess; she can take care of herself and the computers can’t keep up with her anyway. Sol, Jess, the rest of the team is engaging. A grid suddenly appeared in Sol’s mind, overlaid on the fleet. Several squares nearest to him flashed yellow. Sol, these boys are yours. Finish them off and I’ll give you a cookie.

Sol snarled inarticulately in response, but he headed for his zone, fists building up energy as he went.

Two miles to his left, in Tiffany’s section, a whirlpool was forming, sweeping even the heaviest ships around and down. The ships began to collide with crushing force while others were bombarded with chunks of ice that formed in midair and flung themselves like multi-ton bullets.

Deeper in, Sol saw Phil, grown to a height of thirty feet and covered with purple specks, dive into the water, drowning the Lizards that had been crawling on him.

A flyer flashed past; Roberto astride its back, out of reach of its energy weapons. He was frantically stabbing it with glowing pink blades that emanated from his gauntlets.

Sol reached his sector and immediately cut loose with blasts from each hand.

Multicolored light pierced the air five miles away; it could only be Jonothan with his Rift.

Sol couldn’t see Bear, Breakdown or Febris, but he assumed they were doing their job.

Push hard, people, Mike sent in grim, determined tones. Don’t let them catch their balance.

The Lizards were beginning to fight back in earnest. The night was now dispelled by the constant flash of weaponry and explosions. A shadow passed over Sol’s head, and he glanced up to see the platform they’d ridden in on, lit by a strange internal glow, darting toward one of the larger ships. It hit with a brilliant flash, and when the light faded, the ship was gone. Who the hell did that? Sol wondered.

That would be me, Mike responded. Another, nearby ship exploded in a great column of fire. Concentrate on your sector, Sol! You’re letting ships through!

Sol cursed and swung around; devils take the man, he was right. Hundreds of smaller ships, hidden by the larger ones, had shot past him and were heading at speed toward Singapore thirty miles distant. Sol perceived disturbances in the magnetosphere; some ships had already reached the base; fighting had begun there, too.

Sol was startled to hear Phillip speak in his mind. Everyone, they’ve got submersibles too; thousands of them! They’re armed, too, if I hadn’t dispersed into the water, they would’ve turned me into Swiss cheese.

Holy shit! Since when are YOU telepathic?! A male voice said incredulously.

Tiffany, her “voice” tinged with distaste: Oh god, I feel tainted now.

Fuck’s SAKE! Mike roared. I’m linking you; I thought I told you that. Those submersibles are going to fuck us all over if we don’t deal with them, but FAST.

I can’t maintain speed underwater, Jessica said.

I can’t even see the blasted things, Sol said desperately, extending his senses into the water. They’re masked somehow.

I can, Tiffany said. I can’t get a proper fix though; they’re moving pretty fast and they’re...

THEY’RE FAHCKING JELLYFISH! Phillip roared. Giant fahcking jellyfish! Can someone get me the hell out of the water, like NOW? I can’t maintain dispersal much longer!

A voice Sol didn’t recognize said, If I make them sick, it will contaminate the entire ocean.

And my power will take too long to reach them, another strange voice said grimly. Febris and Breakdown, Sol realized.

Agonizing pain suddenly flashed through everyone’s minds, staggering them all. Sol fell twenty feet before he managed to recover. It was cut off as abruptly.

Roberto, Mike said. Damn it. He’s unconscious, I can’t find him!

Is he still alive? someone asked.

I don’t know, Mike said. If he is, that might not last. We need to change up the tactics. Jessica. I need you to find Roberto; his sector is over there, air and sea. You’re going to have to be fast.

Tiffany, get Phil the hell out of the water. Everyone fall the fuck back; we’re going to have to take drastic measures. Images, information, suddenly flooded the team’s minds.

Yer having a tin-fahcking-bath, Phillip said in awed tones.

Mike, Tiffany, shocked. That will kill every living thing in the water within a thirty-mile radius! Maybe more, with the collateral damage! Tidal waves, climactic changes! What you’re proposing could destroy the whole planet’s ecosystem!

I can’t save the little fishies, Mike threw back. And it’ll be your job to replace the water.

HOW? Tiffany said. I can’t just create water out of thin air!

You won’t have to. And it won’t be by yourself. Look, we just need you to direct it. Sol and I will deal with creating it.

Sol was so startled he missed the ship he’d been aiming for; a swathe of water suddenly vaporized next to it. Then he was too busy avoiding its salvoes to respond immediately.

We’re running out of time, Mike said urgently. We need to execute this plan NOW.

I’ve got Roberto! Jessica interjected. He’s in bad shape, Mike.

You realize this could kill us, right? Jonothan said.

“So could bad sushi,” Mike said. They were all standing on a gutted enemy ship that had somehow remained afloat.

“Jesus Christ,” Phillip said, falling to his knees. “Would it kill you to warn us, then?”

Mike ignored him. He was cradling Roberto’s head in his hands and his eyes were closed.

“What the hell?” Jessica said. “What happened to his wounds? His arm was nearly torn off!”

“I fixed him,” Mike said flatly.

Roberto’s eyes opened. “I’m -- back?” he said weakly.

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Sorry, can’t let you die just yet, pal.” He looked at the others as he stood. “We do this now, everyone gets out of this alive and we’ll have a chance on the mainland. If we don’t, this war is over before it’s really begun.”

The hull shook abruptly as flyers, weapons blazing, bore down on them. Mike threw a glance upward and both flyers exploded simultaneously. He returned his gaze to his teammates. He looked unutterably weary.

Sol said: “Let’s do it.”

* * *

Everyone in position? There was a chorus of assents. Good. On my mark. Three. Two. One. MARK.

Sol, from his position high in the air, was able to see the entire maneuver.

Jessica dropped Phil, then streaked away at top speed; before Phillip had dropped ten feet, she had already completed her first circuit, much closer to the water’s surface.

Phil grew as he fell, increasing his mass and density until he was a six-ton cannonball, falling at terminal velocity. He smashed through several Lizard fliers on his way down, obliterating them without slowing.

Tiffany, Mike and Roberto began to force the seawater into the air, aided by Jessica’s incipient waterspout.

Phillip hit hard, sending still more water skyward. He immediately began reducing his size and density; Mike spared a moment to haul him out of the danger zone, then redoubled his efforts.

30 cubic miles of ocean water moved skyward, carrying the bulk of the Lizard armada with it.

Breakdown, Jess. Mike snapped out. You’re on.

The Major found himself snatched off his precarious perch on the shattered hull before he could take a breath. Shit, Major, Jess complained. What do they feed you, lead?

Then they were darting into the waterspout; Breakdown’s arms extended and his power activated. His glowing hands left a golden trail as the water he touched began to break down on a molecular level.

Out! Out! That shit will spread fast through water. Mike was right; the trails became superhighways in the blink of an eye. Jessica angled right. Jess, wrong way! Wrong way! Bank up, NOW! Pour it on, damn it! The light was becoming blinding; it was impossible to see anything. Jessica obeyed blindly and, impossibly, gained speed. The pocket of air she carried with her at high speeds took on a visible red haze.

Then they were out, and it was Sol’s turn. From opposite sides of the enormous glowing waterspout, Jonothan and Sol cut loose, hitting the destablized water with everything they had.

The result was immediate; already bright light intensified. Sol, covering his tightly shut eyes with his hands, clearly saw his own finger bones. Even from his position from several miles out, he braced for the shock wave immediately.

When it didn’t come, he opened his eyes to look. His jaw dropped.

The massive hydrogen explosion was being contained. He could dimly see specks closer in, that could only be Roberto and Mike. Energy from the explosion, which should have been white, had a purplish tinge from the combination of the two Heroes’ power signatures. The thirty cubic miles of matter and energy were contained in a violet box no more than a third of that size.

The telepathic link had dissolved, Mike needing all of his attention on containment. The plan had succeeded beyond Sol’s wildest expectations.

His part was done; he sped back to the mainland. Jessica spotted him and landed with him, still carrying Breakdown. They had landed in the base courtyard, where everyone had stopped dead, staring at the lightshow not fifteen miles distant.

Sol strode up to Corporal Tocean, who was staring seaward in a state of shock, and tapped the man on one shoulder. When Tocean’s eyes focused on him, Sol said: “Still think we should stick to search and rescue, Corporal?”

Introduction to Working Title

These intro things are always so gorram awkward.

Okay well, here's the thing. I'm working on a book right now, and I fully expect to be working on other books in the future, and between wanting feedback as I work (because instant gratification is a hallmark of the new millennium) and also wanting to sort of build a following that isn't, you know, family and friends, I've decided to start posting bits and pieces here.

It should go without saying, but in the post-Griggs world apparently it doesn't: Everything in this blog is mine. Posting here doesn't make it open source or free use. It's copyrighted, by me, James Callaghan. Some of the things I'll be posting were written as early as 1998, so the copyrighting applies backward and forward.

I will not be posting full stories, mainly because novels are long and would be a pain to read on a screen, but also because I want to make money off of this shit eventually; making the entire body of work available for free would sort of defeat that purpose.

Thank you for visiting, and for reading. I hope you enjoy the worlds I create and come to love them as I do. I welcome feedback in the comments or on such forums as you may have been directed from.