Executive Military Officer Benson shot through the corridors at .98% of LS weaving through the security systems and the long series of checkpoints with long practiced ease. Several defensive programs toggled on and tracked his movements preparing to disrupt his high brain functions if he turned out to be a Trojan.
Light diodes, signal beams and small personal alcoves the size of small football fields all began to look alike as Benson became less a representation of a person and more an projected thought self-willing itself beyond speeds of rational comprehension.
Benson dived off an upper level platform and shot down through to the core levels. Thousands of floors of offices and compartments and files shot passed him as he free fell down to the central mainframe. He passed by rooms containing ever recorded thought since Reginald Aubrey Fessenden’s first radio broadcast from Newfoundland to England all the way to the full current contents of all sixty hundred TeleNet channels.
Benson pulled up from his swan dive ignoring all laws of inertia that would have torn skeleton from flesh if his body were more than a mental construct in telepathic cyberspace. He landed gracefully at the central mainframe office. The room at the middle of this patch of cyberspace.
It took only thirteen nanoseconds for the three dozen security sweeps to scan all aspects of his avatar and factions. Several sudden doors became semi-permeable membranes and Benson pushed his way through the barriers to the office.
It was an exact replica of the Oval Office circa 1966. Down to the dog sleeping in the corner. Benson looked down as his avatar modified to fit the parameters of the module. Gravity re-exerted itself and Benson was mildly shocked to find himself actually solid!
Acting Western Block President Malachi Thawne looked up from where he was flipping through a few small stacks of papers. “This had better be of an indescribable level of seriousness. If I was at all willing to tolerate interruptions I would still be in the real world and not jacked into the most secure t-net in the Quadrant.”
“Sir,” Benson said jumping to attention. He felt slow from the sudden change to real physical laws, oddly bound to gravity. Like moving upstream through a river of molasses. It was unnerving. “There is a militaristic event of Class - Œ proportions is occurring in sectors 152/3/4 on the Eastern continental border. Conventional judicial forces have engaged the target, but are proving 98.65% ineffective.”
Thawne nodded and placed the papers on the desk. They weren’t real papers, just virtual images inserted into his brain through his telepathic inter-node. But it was a pleasant illusion. “Give me details. What exactly are they facing?”
Benson fidgeted. He wished they were in regular cyberspace so he could just summon up a few windows to demonstrate his points. He hated being confined to something as outdated and archaic as speech. “It’s a… someone individual, still unknown, has taken control of a prototype of a next-gen CoRAL.”
“CoRAL?” Thawne asked. It rang a bell, but not loud enough.
“Atlantean military land-suit. Land-suits are so they can walk on land without…”
“I know what a land-suit is.” Thawne interrupted. “Get to the point of how this is a Class - Œ threat.”
“It’s a military use land-suit. Pretty much a humanoid tank. CoRAL mean… um… Combat or Reconnaissance Armored Land-suit.”
“So just sent the big guns. A few Blackhawk fighters should be able to dispose of a single walking tank.”
Benson shook his head. “This is a top of the line Atlantean weapon. They’re still a few hundred years ahead of us, even with our research arrangements. It has multi-dimensional non-relativistic VR allowing for super-luminal response times and an organic mold for hyper-regeneration of the outer plating. The rad-generators and thought shields are beyond anything we’re even theorizing about.”
Thawne blinked. “I’m a politician. I wasn’t educated in any tech more complicated than an Apple II. Small words. Sound bytes. The majority of my family is not know for fast think.”
Benson blinked. “The pilot can react to things almost before they happen and the armour heals itself really quick. It will never run out of power and we can’t mind-scan him even with an Psionic Radiation amp.”
“So it’s fast and probably heavily armed. But how tough could it be? The Atlanteans and environmental pacifists.”
“They tested the CoRAL against a full battalion of Parademons. It took 1.86 seconds to eliminate the lot.”
Thawne dropped his pencil.
“That sounds like a Class - Œ emergency. I think we better call in someone. Alert Superman.”
“Yessir.” Benson said turning around to leave.
“Wait.” Thawne said raising his hand quickly. “This is an Atlantean problem mostly, their suit. Call in Aquaman. Let him deal with it instead.”
“Yessir.” Benson said and exited, relieved to leave the ultra-real office and glad to be an abstract again. He took off to alert the hero.
The cliffs of Gibraltar towered far above the thrashing coastline. At the top of the colossal rock far above the flailing white water sat Aquaman. Atlan Curry looked down far below and saw a small family of dolphins splashing and playing and mating in the surf below. He couldn’t see the flying fish but he knew they were there too. He could feel them. Just as real as the orca currently giving birth to its third child in the arctic circle or the barracuda feasting on a slower guppy down by the Barrier Reef.
But he also felt a pelican nearby as it soared with its powerful wings to scoop up a beak-full of water filled with small fish, miles away from the shore where even the distant bruise of land had faded from the horizon where an albatross spiraled around lazily. Atlan licked his lips to taste the salt tang from the pelican’s dive and rubbed his shoulder to remove the minor muscle tension.
Atlan’s left eye twitched slightly with a sudden muscle spasm. He was being telepathically contacted. He straightened his upper body while keeping his legs in the lotus position. He ran a hand through his sun bleached dirty blonde hair. It was kept tied back in a short ponytail. Long hair kept getting in his eyes underwater.
“Hello? Um… Aquaman?” an unfamiliar voice spoke inside Atlan’s head. It had the hollow plastic feel of artificial telepathy. There was an annoying touch of distortion and a slight echo. Probably a result of Government Issue anti-spying tech.
“Yes. I am Aquaman.” Atlan said. He still felt like was lying saying that. It had been just over half a year since he had assumed the mantle of the protector of the oceans. When people called out ‘hey Aquaman’ he still fought the urge to look around and exclaim ‘where?’
“Thank Hera I found you. Your consciousness was spread across 79.8% of the globe and I’m pretty sure I detected a id fragment on Mars.”
“I was meditating. And Mars has some lovely waterfalls. A result of the lower gravity, I imagine.”
The hollow faux-toned grew serious. “This is Executive Military Officer John Benson speaking.”
“Ah yes. John Benson. We met eighty-five days ago at a Western Block function. Are you still working in Capt. Mike Yates’ information department?”
“No, I was promoted to… wait! There’s an emergency. You are needed! A Class - Œ situation has…”
“Excuse me.” Atlan said. “A what?”
“A Class - Œ situation. You know, between a Class ? but not as serious as a ? - Class.”
“Oh. Of course. Silly me. Where?”
“It started at sectors 152-4 on the Eastern continental border but has since spread all the way to sector 149!”
“Never mind. I’ll find it myself.” Atlan said standing up. He looked off the edge of the cliff and stepped forward. His body fell like a brick plummeting down the cliff face to the sharpened white stones far below. Atlan opened his mind and let his physical body evaporate like a quick summer shower hitting a hot pavement.
The human body is 80% water. An Atlantean’s is closer to 85%. Whatever trace minerals and elements that make up the human body are a minority. The liquid remains of Atlan struck the rocks of Gibraltar with a splash and instantly became indistinguishable from the rest of the sea.
The Clear was peace beyond measure. Atlan never grew tired of diving into the Clear - the elemental group mind of all marine life. It spread throughout the world flowing through every river, gurgling down every stream, and relaxing in every sewer. Atlan swam through the vast plane of imagination and consciousness.
He let the current drag him partially while he felt around. It was not hard to notice the problem. A thick ripple spread out through the Clear like a stone sinking into a pool. It was if someone had stretched a sheet taught then tossed a bowling ball in the middle. All was distorted by the change.
It was not merely some hostile individual attacking people, it was a presence that should not be there disrupting life. A force that should be something or somewhere else forcing itself into reality.
Atlan shivered. He hated cases like this. It was so much easier to just beat up on data robbers or gene thieves.
He pushed himself back entirely into the material world reforming himself from a fountain in downtown New York. He looked around for the problem. It was hard to miss.
An eleven-foot tall giant land-suit that looked like steel coral and rock was lifting up a police transport and easily tossed it through a nearby building. The air smelt heavily of ozone as charged particle blasted filled the air as the city’s entire SWAT team peppered CoRAL with as much gunfire as they could. The energy blasts slid effortlessly of the suit’s shielding. The suit turned and bombarded the area with a sudden burst of thermal radiation causing half a dozen instant bonfires and several charred corpses. Police dived for cover, most ending up with heavy burns.
Atlan stepped forward and waved his hand. The water vapor in the air cooled sharply, putting out the fires in a sudden mist and soothing the burns. A thick fog spread out around Aquaman as he stepped forward through the mist towards the battlesuit.
“I am Aquaman. You are in illegal possession of a military land-suit. Surrender now.”
The pilot smiled and opened fire with the railguns.
General Kalanidhi grunted slightly and scratched his telepathic node. He had just been sent a new status update and the ‘new mail ping’ always made his cerebellum itch. He kept insisting there must be a loose connection sending random electric pulses through his brain, but every doctor he saw said it was all in his that.
That, he always said, is exactly the problem! He still kept worrying that someday he’d receive a particularly urgent message and end up partially lobotomized.
The General frowned and summoned up a few viewing windows to view the new information.
“This is interesting,” he muttered to himself.
Behind him on a different series of windows Aquaman easily dodged a few dozen high-speed projectiles being lobbed out at multi-mach speeds. The Atlantean leapt easily into the air and hefted an armored transport at the CoRAL. The suit easily ripped through the plastic and metal frame and advanced forward bombarding the area with smart bullets.
“Sir, what is it, sir?”
Kalanidhi rubbed his chin. “High levels of this ‘psy-rad crud around the pilot of the suit. Looks like he’s a teep or something.”
A messenger blinked into the room. “Important file to relay to general.” The grunt said.
“What is it?”
“We’ve IDed the perp in the suit. Gene-scans have confirmed him as one: Captain Nemark of Shayeris. He’s an Atlantean. Nothing on his record or psych profile to demonstrate this form of action. This also explains how he got access to the CoRAL. He was in change of its storage in preparation for testing.”
Kalanidhi nodded. “What does it say bout psychic powers? Lottsa Atlanteans are teeps.”
“Nothing. No psychic powers whatsoever.”
The general nodded. “Simple answer to this mystery. This Nemark’s been body-jacked. Someone’s joy-sticking him and making him kill people. But why?”
“Annoyed over proposed metahuman legislation?”
Kalanidhi shook his head. “I got a gut feeling that’s not it. Run a check on his movements. Two hundred credits he’s looking for something. Also try sending out some psy-rad jammers. If he’s really being controlled from afar we might be able to block the signal.”
Micro-missiles exploded, stripping away the sidewalk and caving in the side of the building. Emergency force fields popped up to prevent the building’s collapse. Aquaman flew into the sky as the CoRAL fired a few energy blasts at the dodging target.
“Hold still, damn you,” the pilot said. “I thought you fish people couldn’t fly!”
Aquaman smiled as he flew out of reach. The pilot spoke with a distinct accent. Atlan filed that away for future reference. He shot forward and knocked the suit back a few meters with a couple of well-placed blows. “Most can’t,” he said looking down at his JLA flight armband.
“I’ll crush you!” the CoRAL said letting off a few more energy blasts.
Aquaman dropped quickly and concentrated. He focused his power on the water vapor in the air surrounding the suit concentrating it around the barrels. Then with a surge of mental energy he split the water molecules. Water is really just oxygen and hydrogen, a highly combustible gas and a highly explosive one.
“Huh?” the pilot of the suit managed before a fireball erupted in front of him knocking him and the suit reeling. The pilot screamed quietly in the airtight suit as the limbs flailed wildly and the suit fell over.
Aquaman nodded. The explosion had startled the pilot enough to let down his guard. More than expected, but you don’t look gift fish in the gills.
Aquaman’s mind left his body and dove into the pilot’s.
He entered a vast desert. The sun was small overhead and the air was chilly and cool. Iron and copper heavy dust filled the air in the faint breeze. Atlan looked around the barren featureless plain.
“Come out. I know you’re here. You’d almost have to be, it is your mind after all.”
There was no response at first. Then the ground began to shake and crumble. Earthen fists rose up and embraced the youthful hero.
Aquaman smiled. He flexed and the rocky hands shattered. “Don’t make me embarrass you by pulling you out from behind your mental defenses. They are impressive for an amateur, but I’m Aquaman.”
“I AM NOT AN AMATEUR!” a dry, heavily accented voice howled as a mile high figure rose from the ground. A powerful crimson arm came down like a massive falling mountain. Debris and stray rocks the size of houses rained down.
Aquaman raised his arm and caught the fist in mid-blow. A shockwave blasted out raising a massive cloud of dust and devastating the surrounding area. Whole dunes vanished into heavy clouds of dirt.
Aquaman looked up at the wall of rock he had stopped with a casual gesture. “This is all in your mind. Size is meaningless.” Aquaman tightened his grim and shattered the arm. Cracks raced up the limb and spread across the body. There was a loud crumbling explosion and the body fell apart.
Block sized rocks and boulders fell from the sky cratering on the flat sandy landscape. A single small figure floated in the sky. His mental image quickly took the form of a tall golden man.
“This is my mind. Get out!” he said.
“No.” Aquaman said plainly. “Not until you cease your rampage.”
“I will never stop until I have found my goal.”
“Then I will just keep you here. Trapped in this mind.” Atlan said then a puzzled look crossed his face. “No, this isn’t you mind. This is someone else’s. In fact you don’t have a mind, do you?”
The golden figure said nothing.
“You’re just a ghost. A lost soul. Simple enough to fix. I can just drain away your power and leave you to float about helpless. Would you like that?”
The figure frowned. “I will kill you. I will live again.”
Aquaman nodded. “No, you will not kill me.” Atlan sat down cross-legged on the sand. The figure shot forward with his fists out raised. Atlan waved a hand and an invisible force slapped the assailant away.
“Lets think about this for a second. Telepathic. This environment is too realistic to be just a figment. And you reacted poorly to an explosion…” Atlan raised himself up and floated over to the golden figure. “Obvious really. You’re a Martian. A pale one judging by your disposition. One of the surviving Hyperclan?”
“I am Protex, filthy human,” the figure said, resuming its native form - a tall diamond headed pale white creature with a long jagged tail. “Address me with the proper respect.”
Aquaman smiled. “But you died in the early 22nd century in a battle with Judicial League Alpha. Have you been a ghost since then? How horrible.”
“I will live again. My people will live again,” Protex said snarling with both mouths.
Aquaman nodded. “Of course. Now I know what you’re looking for.”
The sun was shining brightly in the real world as Aquaman sat up. He released his hold on the borrowed water and let his body fall apart reappearing a mile beneath the surface. He pulled himself piece by piece from a shower stall. His JLA status got him through the rest of security.
The complex was huge. Run by the military. It would have filled several warehouses. Shelf after shelf of the secret storehouse was buried safely under the city. The normal entrance carefully disguised to preserve this, the most important of locations.
It was the Ark. The storage place for samples of all life on earth. DNA from every species that had ever existed on the planet. And all alien life that made the planet its home.
Aquaman walked down the aisles. He brushed his hand against heavy titanium containers containing the tissue and data samples. He put his hand to one and felt the life contained within. He looked at the label. It read: ‘Kryptonian’. The one beside it was labeled: ‘Dodo’. He smiled softly.
As long as this place existed there would never be a last of anything, even pale Martians.
Atlan found what he was looking for. A single container. He opened it and took out a small piece. Just enough with some left over for later. Just in case.
Stowing his cargo in a small package Atlan exited the complex through more conventional methods. The elevator. He walked over to the limp armored suit now surrounded by Earth security forces. Atlan’s will still kept Protex trapped limply.
“Here is the deal.” He spoke as well as projected. He held up the package. “This is the last remaining sample of Pale Martian DNA. It is yours so I do not think it is right to deny it to you. Welcome home.”
Atlan could feel the mental tug in the suit. He released the blocks and funneled the life essence into the small tissue sample. Martians demonstrated a remarkable ability to regenerate from the smallest portion of their body. Even with this, Protex might need some medical help.
“You have your body back.” Atlan told the handful of Pale Martian. “What you do now is your own choice. Things have changed. The world has changed. The worlds have changed. Mars is no longer dead. I suggest you go see for yourself.”
Atlan flew off to the nearest hospital with his small passenger.
The End...
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“Into the Mind’s Eyes”
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