Chapter 11
I discovered a happy commotion in the kitchen when I went in for breakfast the next morning. Someone had left a paper plate piled high with decorated sugar cookies in the center of the table, and beside it was a slightly larger pile of wrapped presents, one for each of us, all signed "Merry Christmas from Santa". Nothing very big or expensive -- Trina got a scarf that matched her eyes, I got a magazine of word puzzles, Mike got some sort of deluxe yo-yo -- but for a bunch of folks who weren't expecting anything at all, it was pretty special.
Wizzit wouldn't say who had left the cookies and presents there, but it wasn't much of a mystery. After all, other than Santa Claus himself, the only people who could possibly have teleported into HQ while we were sleeping were Toby, Bill, or Angela. (And I know for a fact that Bill, Toby, and Santa don't dot their i's with little hearts.)
Spirits considerably raised, we went about our daily duties. Wizzit found a soccer game somewhere and put it up on the video screen in the common room. It wasn't until sometime around three in the afternoon that the monster alarm began to ring.
"There's a Christmas party in Philadelphia, kids," Wizzit told us, "but we're not invited. Camouflage mode on; we're just going to observe. Preparing to teleport now."
When the teleportation haze faded from my vision, I found myself perched alongside Nicolai at the top of a cement building of some sort near a wide intersection. Tall, rectangular skyscrapers rose up on either side of me; a building entrance near me read "Centre Square", and across the intersection was an ornate, old-fashioned-looking building that I recognized as Philadelphia's city hall.
The Enclave monster was standing smack in the center of the intersection, and it was one of the weirdest-looking creatures I think I have ever seen. Its legs took up easily two-thirds of its height. No neck or shoulders; the body and head sort of flowed into one another without widening or narrowing. There was just a single, large eye in the center of its face, blinking constantly. The thing's two arms were raised up high over its head, as if it were forever signaling "Touchdown!", and its mouth looked to be permanently fixed in an idiotic grin.
The thing's main weapons appeared to be its feet; it kicked at everything within reach -- cars, trucks, buildings, lampposts. There weren't very many pedestrians, this still being Christmas morning in Philadelphia, but it ran after the few that were there as well. I saw it try to chase down one little boy and his mother; just as it was about to stomp them into jelly, they suddenly vanished and reappeared about a block away, completely unharmed. None of us said anything about it, but I'm pretty sure Trina had something to do with their rescue.
In all, that particular mission was probably the most discouraging four hours I have spent since I joined the Primes. The police and other emergency responders showed up not too long after we did, but there wasn't much they could do other than block off the street and keep people away. The army came in a little later with machine guns and some explosives, but none of it really affected the monster.
So, they dithered and waited and "managed the situation" and then dithered some more while we all watched the monster run amok. Of course, we all knew why they were dithering. Destroying the monster the way they had been doing -- with a large bomb -- would also have meant destroying most of the buildings in the immediate area, including a couple of large banks. The fact that the monster was doing a good job of that all on its own didn't seem to make any difference; no one, it appeared, wanted to give the order to drop a bomb in the middle of downtown Philadelphia, so nothing was done.
I guess even Wizzit got bored eventually; he teleported us back to HQ. Bill and Toby had come back from Manchester and made dinner, but no one ate much; I think everyone knew what was coming.
Mike eventually expressed what we were all feeling. "D'you reckon they understand what they're going to do to the rest of the world by letting this monster run free?" he asked gloomily.
"The warning has been on the front page of our website since day one," Wizzit said. "I repeat it every time I report on a monster sighting."
"People don't want to believe it, though," Bill said, shaking his head. "Wishful thinking. They're probably hoping that nothing bad is going to happen, that it's all hyperbole on our part."
Trina asked softly, "How long do we have until more monsters start appearing?"
"Unknown," Wizzit replied. "Could be a minute, an hour, or a day. I have no way to assess the planetary health."
"What are we going to do when they start showing up?" I asked. "Are we going to separate ourselves into groups and go after each monster individually?"
Mike exhaled loudly. "That's the plan," he said. "Trina and I have divided the team up between us. She's got Bill, Toby, and Angela, if she's available. I have Trevor, Padma, and Nicolai."
"That's spreading us kind of thin, isn't it?" I shook my head. "And . . . look, I understand the need, but I'm still worried about bringing Angie along on our missions. I know she's been lucky so far, but . . ."
"I understand your concern," Bill said, "and I agree." He looked at each of us in turn. "Wizzit," he said at last, "are you ready for me to tell everyone about our contingency plans?"
"This would be as good a time as any," Wizzit's voice said from the overhead speakers. "They will find out about them soon enough."
We all looked at Bill expectantly. I suppose a less-well-disciplined group -- or a group less well acquainted with each other -- would have bombarded him with questions at this point, but seriously, hadn't Wizzit just told him to tell us?
"We are going to call in some extra help," Bill began, "and it won't just be Trevor's sister. As you all know, there are three living individuals besides myself who were Primes at one time, but are no longer. We --"
"Four!" Trina interjected firmly.
Bill stared at her for a moment, frowning. His expression cleared almost at once, though, and he smiled. "You're right, Trina," he said. "How could I forget? There are four living ex-Primes: Mayumi Chikamatsu, Alvaro Boada, Cathy Beals . . . and Shelley Windham. Unfortunately, Shelley is all tied up at the moment." He grinned wryly, and we all chuckled at the grim joke. "I have been in contact the other three, though, and each of them has indicated a willingness to help us out whenever we need them."
Toby frowned. "Um, excuse my saying so, but how the hell can they do that? We were able to bring you out of retirement because we were already down one Prime, but we all know that Wizzit can't just create three more Prime spots."
"He's not going to," I said with a sudden flash of intuition. I was just guessing, of course, but it made perfect sense all of a sudden, especially when you considered all the activity in the weapons room over the past month. I looked up at the ceiling. "You're going to make them Junior Primes, aren't you, Wizzit? Just like Angie?"
"Trevor gets the gold star for the day," Bill nodded approvingly. "Except that we have decided to give them the title 'Prime Emeritus', just as a university would give a retired faculty member the title 'Professor Emeritus'." He gave us all his wry grin again. "Calling them Junior Primes would just be insulting."
"The idea is the same, though," Nicolai explained. "Bill and I have been able to duplicate his work on Angie's Junior Prime badge; we have built the same functionality into a wide metal bracelet. They will be assigned the numbers twenty-three squared, twenty-nine squared, and thirty-one squared. Like Junior Prime Pink's badge, the bracelets will each have their own power supply which recharges itself from light and motion and they will enable their owners to use our weapons. They will look and sound like Primes, and Wizzit will be able to teleport them and communicate with them, but of course they will have no force shields or healing comas."
"We debated for a while how to designate our new Primes Emeriti," Bill said. "That's the plural, by the way -- Primes Emeriti. We quickly decided that giving them colors outside the rainbow spectrum, as we did with me, would pr
ove unwieldy. I mean, after you get past black, white, and pink, what do you have to choose from? Brown and gray, I suppose, or some off-brand colors like taupe or teal. 'Prime Taupe' just didn't sound right." He chuckled. "So we decided instead to name them after metals, just like their bracelets. Mayumi chose to be Prime Copper, Cathy is Prime Silver, and Alvaro is Prime Steel. And everyone agreed that gold would be reserved for Shelley, once she is released."
I found myself nodding and swallowing a lump that unexpectedly appeared in my throat. Shelley had devoted more than half her life to the Primes. If anyone deserved to be known as Prime Gold, it was she.
"The other thing we have done," Bill went on, "is to have Padma build three new triple-blasters like Trina's. That ought to let the Primes Emeriti be nearly as effective as us regular Primes while minimizing the likelihood that any of them will get seriously hurt."
I thought it over. "That sounds all well and good," I said, "but how does it help Angie? She'll be just as much at risk as before."
"Well, for one thing," Bill replied, "we're hoping we won't have to call her in as often as we thought."
"And she is going to start using my triple-blaster," Trina put in. When we all turned to look at her in surprise, she said, "I had decided that days ago, before I ever heard Bill's idea about the Primes Emeriti. When she is with us, I will use a hand weapon like the rest of you."
"Um, Trina, love," Mike said carefully, "do you even know how to use a hand weapon?"
"Of course I do," she replied dismissively. "I have worked with the wooden sword, the short staff, and the knife as part of my aikido training."
"She and I have been practicing with her sword," Padma volunteered, "and I have built her a weapon of similar size and shape she can use to fight monsters." She shrugged. "She is not bad."
"I see." Mike bowed to Trina. "Forgive me for doubting you."
"You are forgiven," she said loftily. Then her ice-maiden's demeanor melted abruptly as she gave him a warm smile. "I understand your concern, Mike. I know I am perhaps a bit rusty, but since we will soon have so many shooters, I think it is time I should . . . I believe the phrase is 'branch out'."
Bill chuckled. "Don't branch out too far, my little Russka," he said, putting a friendly arm around her shoulders. "You're still the best marksman we've ever had on the team."
Trina flushed with pleasure. "Thanks, you big Canuck," she murmured.