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The landing bay of the New York branch of the Planetary offices had seen better days. The floor was strewn with mechanical debris; the gutted remains pulled from some impossible machine or another. As Elijah entered the hanger, he was careful to watch his step, cautious to avoid the scattershot patterns in which the pieces had been spread across the room. Dismayed by the appearance of things, he called out across the cavernous chamber, “Drummer, I assume you’re in here somewhere?”

His answer came as a shower of sparks erupting from his left, the fiery-orange glow casting a silhouette against the wall behind it. Crossing the room to his objective, Elijah dropped a cold hand upon the shoulder of the Drummer. The brown-haired man jumped slightly, but it was less than Elijah had hoped for.

Slipping the goggles back from his eyes, the Drummer allowed a childish grin to spread across his face, and a matching glint seeped into his eyes. “So much to do, so much to do…I could spend a lifetime or two just examining the leftovers coming out of this fantastic machine.”

“You haven’t got a lifetime.”

The Drummer nodded. “I know this, which is why I’ve been focusing my attentions on that the important stuff – or at least that which I can assume is the important stuff. It’s so hard to tell which are the juicy parts and which are just the colorful icing bits. There are so many layers, and peeling one away is just revealing another ten or twenty waiting for me.”

Elijah flashed his ‘I’m-not-happy’ expression.

“But you want me to cut to the chase and get on with the explanation of my findings,” the Drummer responded as he popped back up to his feet. Rubbing his hands together excitedly, he made a beeline path across the chamber. His feet seemingly knew where to step without his even looking, dodging piles where there did not even seem to be room enough to place a footfall.

Elijah partially wondered how many times that Drummer had walked these same paths in the last few days since the discovery. But Elijah knew better than to assume anything about the Drummer. Classifying such a man was damned near impossible, and Mr. Snow had given up years ago.

Pausing along the eastern wall of the hanger, the Drummer pushed back the sleeves of his fuchsia jacket and picked a contraption from the floor. “So much of the bits and pieces are difficult to categorize. Nothing is from a common source, which I guess makes sense. Building a machine of this size and magnitude – particularly with the purpose it held – would have been impossible to do if you were buying your technologies from the same place. The government is much too nosy to stuff like that, and someone building something like this – well, they’d know better, ya know?”

“You’re not answering my questions,” Elijah said, cutting into the Drummer’s excitable rhetoric.

“Okay, take this for example,” he said, indicating the object in his hands. Wires ran the object’s center mass in every direction, amassed in such quantities that it must have been connected to several different partitions of the overall construction. “Near as I can tell…”

“Near as you can tell?”

“Snow, a good bit of this technology is of a foreign nature. I’ve got clusters of machinery based off heavily-classified governmental designs, a bulk of it extrapolated from black ops machinery employed by I.O., and stuff like this little doohickey which appears to be of extraterrestrial origin. This is technology that is light years beyond the stuff even being developed by the Hark Corporation. Nearest I can liken it is what we saw on that Bleed Ship,” Drummer explained, appearing slightly agitated by Elijah’s interruption.

Trying to exercise a little more patience, Snow asked, “So what can you tell me?”

Nodding objectively, the Drummer said, “This piece appears to be core to the machine. Its size is deceptive. Makes you think it’s just a cog in the works, but that’s not even close to the truth. First, you can’t crack this baby open. The metal casing – if you can even call it metal – possesses a higher density than anything currently classified on our Periodic Table of Elements, and that’s including anything that we’ve culled from Bleed research and our few encounters with foreign beings.”

He paused for a second, refitting himself with the childlike grin and said, “It took a bit of coercing, but I think the two of us finally settled on a common method of communication. You see, this object doesn’t function on your typical scientific principles.”

“Break it down for the rest of us, Drums,” Jakita said, entering the room from behind. She, however, was content to wait on the other side of the sea of debris. Her arms were crossed against her chest, covering the fold in her black and red leather bodysuit.

A sigh released from the Drummer’s lips. “Okay, as you know, the grand majority believe universal language is built upon mathematical principles – i.e. they believe that mathematics is the only true shared language. Therefore, every language can trace its roots back to permutation theory, and thus, any language can eventually be deciphered, provided a short key for its translation – a Rosetta Stone, per se. Operation systems are just such a language system, the most basic of which based on binary and then expounded outward. The operating system of this device? It’s in no way mathematical; it’s moved beyond the need for such paltry notions.”

Now this was piquing Snow’s interest. “So, how is it functioning?”

Clearly, from the look on his face, this was the part the Drummer had been waiting to get to. “It’s operating on a plateau three or four exponential levels above mathematics. The closest I could describe it is tangential theory. Basically, it appears to be chaining loosely correlated ideas – suppositions and remote possibilities – into thought chains, skipping the necessity of proof and equation, and creating a viable, working product from its results.”

Silence settled across the room for a short while as the Drummer allowed what he’d said to be digested. It was Jakita that spoke next. “You’re saying that the machine is adding two and two and coming up with answers other than four?”

“If you want to put it like that, I suppose. It’s working on hypothesis rather than theory, and it’s performing its functions on a curve that doesn’t exist in the scale of human design.” With a delicate touch, the Drummer returned the piece to its place and stepped back.

Elijah raised a hand to his mouth, allowing his fingers a brief moment to trace the route of his lips as he thought. “What would a machine like this be doing in a school? What purpose would it serve?”

“All signs point to a sensory device more sophisticated than any satellite currently in orbit, which says a lot, since it was ground based and functioned without the need for a line-of-sight. I think,” the Drummer began, cringing as he used the word. “I think it served as a recruitment device, some way for the designer to locate those with superhuman potential. Of course, the device was not actually completed until sometime in the 1980’s.”

“After the school had already closed its door?” Jakita asked. She leaned back against a wall, crossing one ankle over the other as she reclined. “Ashe didn’t strike me as the type of woman who could figure out something like this – not with the levels of P.T.S. she was exhibiting.”

The Drummer smiled again.

“Get the shit-eating grin off your face and tell us what you’re orgasming over.” Snow wasn’t in the habit of being patient, especially if one of his own was withholding information purely for his own sadistic enjoyment.

Coughing slightly, the Drummer explained, “The machine appears to have finished itself. Again, the basic ideas were all built into the machine prior to the death of its designers, and given that it functions off tangents, it stands to reason that it knew of its own purpose and continued to progress until that purpose was fulfilled. Only thing it forgot about was the need for an operator, and Jan Ashe was in no way a viable subject, at least not after she flipped her gourd.”

“You’re saying that machine is the one that contacted us?” Elijah asked, raising an eyebrow. The air suddenly snapped a few degrees colder.

The Drummer nodded.

Elijah and Jakita exchanged looks. Turning back to the ranks of debris, Elijah asked, “How long will you need to reassemble the device?”

The Drummer shrugged. “Two days? Tops. I believe there was some resistance to its disassembling, and putting it back together should be much quicker. The machine will likely assist in the process.”

“Get to it,” Elijah ordered. Joining Jakita by the door, Snow turned back to the Drummer and said, “And one other thing. You said ‘designers’. I thought the school only had one faculty member.”

His eyes shooting wide, the Drummer put one hand to the back of his neck and looked somewhat sheepish. “Oh yeah, there were two hands involved in the original design process. I’m not sure who was responsible for what, but I think the second designer was removed from the construction before the inclusion of the alien technology.”

“Any trace of this mystery second designer?”

The Drummer shook his head. “Maybe the machine will know?”

Elijah grumbled slightly. “Too many maybes for my tastes. Get the damned machine reassembled and then we’ll talk some more.”

Snow strode from the room. As he left, Jakita shot the Drummer a quick shrug and then fell in behind Elijah. Clearing her throat, she said, “You shouldn’t be so hard on him. He’s getting the job done.”

“And taking his sweet time doing it. I don’t expect miracles, but I do expect things to get done within the confines of your abilities. So far, he’s lived up to his promise, but every now-and-again he needs a little bit of prodding. Plus, it reminds him not to fuck with me,” Snow responded, allowing an evil grin to spread across his lips.

“So, he finds out who the other designer is…then what?” Jakita asked.

From the corner of his eyes, Elijah glared at Jakita. “Then we find the bastard and find out how he – and the damned school – managed to stay under the radar for so long. Sounds like our kind of weird, doesn’t it?”

---

Outside on the lawns, Elijah squinted against the onslaught of the midday sun. Reclining on the hillside, Doctor Axel Brass stared out across the valley, taking delight in the serenity of the scenery. His legs were still in stage of recovery, but Elijah tried not to stare at their shriveled countenance. In the company of friends, it was always best to consider manners and such.

Approaching from behind, Elijah cleared his throat and announced his presence. “Why is it that I always find you in the same place?”

“Beautiful day today,” Doc Brass said without turning to watch Elijah’s approach. “From this very spot one can enjoy one of those spectacular little things in life. Granted, it’s hard to stay objective when you’ve been the better part of the century staring at a wall. How can I help you today, Mr. Snow?”

“You assume I’ve come with ulterior motives?”

“You’re always here with ulterior motives,” Brass replied. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate and respect the company. It’s just that you spend more time enjoying the dispensing of information than the chance for relaxation and renewal.”

Elijah laughed somewhat at this, claiming a seat on the lawn next to Brass. “Life doesn’t allow me much time for the trivial. Too much to do before I consider trying to enjoy anything.”

“That’s rather funny coming from a man like you. For someone with a century behind you and no discernible finish in the future, time is what you make of it. You just have to make room for yourself in the midst of devoting yourself to your cause.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elijah said with a nod. “What can you tell me about a man named Truman Scarsdale?”

The serene smile disappeared from Brass’ face. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in awhile. Wow.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Axel shrugged slightly. Leaning back with his hands for support, he said, “I first encountered Scarsdale in the late 1920’s. He was administering medical aid to the disenfranchised of World War I somewhere in the forgotten Slovakian regions; I was chasing after Baron Von Hemmerlich and the nuclear arsenal he kept aboard his zeppelin base. Zeppelins aren’t the safest of flying devices – never have been, never will be. After the explosion, I awoke in Scarsdale’s field camp. Paths cross as paths tend to do, but that’s beyond the point.

“Truman was an idealist and, trust me, there were a large number of idealists back then. But Scarsdale had some wild ideas. He envisioned a world where extraordinary men and women were more commonplace. In some ways, I suppose he was a visionary, but back in that day, ideas like that were discounted by the general populace. The government believed they were solely responsible for the creation of the superhuman, and very few were willing to accept the rise of the extraordinary by natural means. To Scarsdale it was an inevitability…and he wanted to be prepared for that day.”

Clouds drifted across the sun, casting a shade across the lawn. Elijah hummed under his breath. “You said very few?”

Brass nodded. “My colleagues had seen too much to discount Scarsdale’s theories. And, of course, if I remember correctly, Scarsdale was working with someone who shared his views, but on a slightly different slant – an angry young man named Leiffert. Aaron Leiffert.”

“How close were Scarsdale and Leiffert? Coworkers that passed in front of the water cooler or was their partnership more substantial?” Snow asked, turning his head to the side and examining Brass’s expression as he awaited an answer.

Brass curled his lower lip inward, chewing on it slightly as he considered the question. “I remember that their interactions were rather distinct. Working together, they seemed quite efficient at any task presented to them. Separately, they would turn their attentions to convincing the other of their own point of view.”

“And what was their dichotomy of opinion based on?”

“Time old argument, my friend: Integration versus Succession. Scarsdale was always preaching that when the time came superhumans would need to be integrated into the general ranks of society. Leiffert saw the advent of superhumans as the next progression of evolution, that the arrival of one would herald the fading away of the ordinary human populace, either by slow progression or by cataclysm.” Brass punctuated this last sentence with a sigh, and then returned his gaze to the sunny valley beyond the grounds.

Snow had a different perspective on the matter. While Brass had been able to keep a fair amount of his innocence throughout his years trapped under the mountain, Elijah had lived through the entirety of the Twentieth Century. More so, he had witnessed the tattered remains of two conspiracies and the baby boom of the superhuman generation. The world had accepted neither integration nor succession. Instead, a silent acceptance had taken their place, and the world was largely asleep to the activities of the superhuman – until they infringed upon their safe, little worlds, that is. Ambivalence was the only coping mechanism of these latter years, after all.

“What about Leiffert? What happened to him after the war?” Snow asked, knowing full well that Brass and his colleagues had turned their attentions to the secret battles of the world by then.

Brass hummed. “Well, it turns out that Leiffert was a superhuman. I suspect you already assumed that. The man had some kind of environmental control, tugged at the basic forces of the Earth and could twist them to his needs. In that day, he barely exhibited it, but as the world decayed between wars, it was only a matter of time. I saw various newscasts on his exploits before – well, you know – before my accident.” He gestured down to his legs.

Elijah nodded. There was little point in prodding any further on the subject. The rest would be determined by instance of fate or by the meddling of a free-will machine, whichever came first. “More and more, I find that the world has never been what I thought it to be. Granted, I was still glassy-eyed and innocent back in those days. There’s just so much I never knew about, such as heroes sacrificing themselves quietly for the sake of the world and such. Makes you wonder what happened to their counterparts. Where is the balance in the equation?”

Brass chuckled beneath his breath and responded, “You never grow tired of the mystery, do you?”

Snow met his smile and said, “Where’s the adventure in that?”

---

Rumania

Winding through the forgotten mountains and forested vales, a hidden road cut through the encrusted overhangs. Footprints had long since eroded into the stone, evidence of repeated traffic up the mountainside, but the ghostly owners of those footprints had long since passed from this world.

Up ahead, a structure arose in the side of the mountain, a large set of doors hewn into the face of the peak. Breaking into a run and accelerating to full speed, Jakita hit the doors with her shoulder bent low. The double-doors crashed inward, throwing splinters of wood and metal into the shadows. Following her initial attack, Jakita grabbed the inside of the doors and pushed them out of the way, allowing room for Snow and the Drummer to proceed. “Drums, what are we hoping to find here?”

“Our computer buddy seemed to think this was a good place to look for Leiffert. It’s supposed to be some kind of eugenics lab investigating humanoid and animal recombination theories. Place looks rather abandoned, though,” the Drummer replied.

Pausing in place, Jakita knelt to the floor and fished through the shattered remains of the door. She frowned and said, “Elijah, someone else has been here.”

Snow turned to peer back over his shoulder. “Explain.”

“The doors have been broken in before and reinforced.” She held up a metal guard plate and pointed to the date engraving. 1993. “Someone beat us to the punch.”

“The Four?”

A flashlight beam swept across the room and the Drummer cleared his throat. “Even the Four aren’t this complete when they toss a place. They’re usually happy to strip the bits they need and leave the rest. Their idea of continuing the game, I suppose. But this is cleaned down to the molecular level. Hazarding a guess? I haven’t seen a complete wax job like this since Bendix was running Stormwatch and masterminding his own bit on the side.”

“Any idea what they got away with?” Snow asked, already knowing his answer.

Scratching his head, the Drummer replied, “Pretty sure the last thing on the inventory was the kitchen sink. I could be wrong about that, though.”

Snow shot the Drummer an icy stare. “Try picking an answer that I might find more to my liking.”

“It’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” Jakita said, answering on behalf of the Drummer. Her tone bordered on irritated, but Elijah could not tell if it was in response to his attitude or the present situation. “Whoever it was walked in and out completely undetected, absconded a complete and uncatalogued inventory, and didn’t even leave us table scraps. Eugenics equipment and research, at the very least. Possible living specimens. There’s just no way for us to know.”

“Then we need to find a way and find it quick. I won’t tolerate a new player in the game,” Snow responded, then turned back toward the entrance. His precision pace carried him past Jakita and the Drummer, back out into the frosty winter beyond.

Jakita waited until he was beyond earshot and then showed the Drummer a quizzical expression. “What now? Is there anything left here to use?”

“I’m drawing a blank here. There’s nothing here to work with, and when I say that I mean that the most complex machine left in the room are the hinges on the door,” the Drummer said, allowing his own annoyance to show. Then, his left eye twitched slightly and shot wide. “Wait a minute…”

“You got something?”

“Deep down. Faint. Almost out of radius.” The Drummer stepped toward her at that moment and put a hand on each shoulder, maneuvering her body into a particular position on the center of the floor. “How long would it take you to dig through three hundred yards of solid rock?”

Jakita’s eyes narrowed at the question. “Depends on the type of rock and how quickly it crumbles.”

“Doesn’t everything crumble when you hit it?”

“Eventually.”

A wry smile spread across his lips as the Drummer knelt down to the bare floors. “Hit here. Then again and again. Don’t stop until you hit paydirt.”

Jakita balled her fists and took precision aim. With the speed of an oncoming train, she ground her knuckles into the precise spot the Drummer had indicated. Spiraling tensions marked spider-webbed from the point of impact, and she readied a second blow. Pausing only briefly, she asked, “And when will I know when I’ve reached the target?”

“It’ll be the part that doesn’t feel like rock anymore.”

“Bastard.”

“I try.”

A long shadow stretched behind her as Jakita set back into the task. Elijah stood in the doorway, blocking out the light as she continued to beat upon the rock floor. Within twenty minutes, she could not longer see the doorway, but she was still a long way from being exhausted. In fact, the prospect of discovery was giving her a much-needed shot of adrenaline. Thirty-five minutes after her first assault, the path suddenly gave way beneath her and tumbled down into a dark chasm. She managed to save herself from a deep tumble at the last second, digging her fingers into the rock and dangling her body over the void. Growling, she yelled upward, “Give me a light and lower a damn rope.”

Snow peered down over the side and asked, “What’s down there?”

Jakita responded with as much of a shrug as she could manage. “Hard to tell what it might have been back in the day, but now it looks an awful lot like an oversized skeleton. Humanoid in nature, and judging by its size, the chamber’s got to be huge.” She paused for a second and then asked, “Drums, can you make a connection with your mystery machine yet?”

Aiming the first of several spotlights down into the hole, the Drummer nodded enthusiastically. “Looks to be some sort of nullification device. It’s running pretty low on power now – which is probably how the cleaning crew missed it – but it might have enough function left to tell me why it did what it did.”

Clamping the rope to her belt, Jakita began to climb the face of the rock tunnel. As she reached the top, she looked at Elijah and followed his gaze back down into the hole. From here, the hollow eyes of the skull were peeking out from beneath the colossal purple helm. In a soft voice, she asked Elijah, “What do you think it is?”

His eyes shifted toward her as he responded, “The beginning of something bigger than we imagined.”

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To Be Continued...

Next: In Planetary #3: Old Friends! Old Rivals! Hidden Truths! Ghosts from the past!

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