Superf***er Vol. 09

"Damage report!" I screamed as I wheeled the ship around. I didn't see plumes of magma shooting up from the surface, at least not yet. That was a good sign.

"Cut a ditch through the surface," came a voice from one the boys; I think it was Jason.

"Volcanic activity?"

"Negatory. Lots of bare bedrock, but no eruption. It looks like it didn't hit deeply enough to penetrate the crust."

The three of us on board erupted in cheers—Earth was saved!

"Great work, kids! Head towards the ship, we'll pick you up and take you back to EARTH!"

"OK, but..." said Kurt's voice heavily. "There's only three of us coming in. Billy didn't make it."

We'll never know exactly what happened to Billy. The four of them had been flying alongside the comet in a diamond formation, with Billy in the lead of course. Maybe he was too close, and a bump of turbulence pushed him into the event horizon. Maybe he got too low, and he got sucked down by gravity and crashed to the surface, but no remains were ever found. Maybe his suit was compromised by a burst of energy and he was vaporized that way. He was the most determined of anyone, though, that the comet not hit the Earth; in my own mind, there's only one scenario that makes sense. Billy rode the thing all the way down the surface, and eventually got squeezed between land and the comet. He may have decided before he even set foot outside the ship that if the comet wasn't clear he was going to sacrifice himself. We'll never know, but as I think back on the conviction with which he convinced us that he needed to get out there and push it's certainly possible. The only thing that we knew for sure was that Billy did more than anyone to save the Earth, and he would never know that his ultimate sacrifice was ultimately successful.

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I piled the remaining rescuers into the Cruiser and steered it towards Earth. Your planet had never seen an advanced starship before, now the entire planet was watching newsfeeds of one arrive. My first thought was to land it in Central Park, but then I imagined the insanity that would surround a spaceship parked on the grass. Hmm, where should one park the only spaceship in the world? I set the frequency scanner to full-band, and among the myriad of signals I received one from NASA. If I was planning on landing a spacecraft on Earth, they asked politely, would it be possible for me to land it in Area 51? They could have jets scrambled to show me the way, and they could arrange to take us anywhere we wanted to go. I thought about the political implications and the potential shift in the balance of power it would be for whatever country had access to the lone spaceship, and I realized that was in fact the best possible place to take it.

I touched the craft down on what was probably a helipad and opened the hatch. None of us could wait to get out of our spacesuits, so we all ditched them before even walking outside. I went down the ramp last. There was a four-star general standing at the base of the ramp, saluting. A color guard stood off to one side, and further back a small cluster of civilian employees, many in lab coats, stood cheering.

As I approached, the General snapped off his salute and extended his hand toward me. "On behalf of President and the citizens of the United States of America," he said formally, "let me be the first to thank you for saving our planet." I shook his hand limply, nodding. "On behalf of the United States, I would like to offer my sincere condolences on the loss of your son. You son made the ultimate sacrifice, and yet it is only through his bravery that the rest of us are standing here today. He was a hero of the highest order."

I nodded sadly. Yes, he was, but that wasn't going to bring him back. He walked as I followed the others in walking towards a nearby building. I wasn't 50 yards away when the first technicians started swarming my spacecraft, trying to understand how it worked.

"The president would also like to thank you for choosing the United States of America to have been your... base of operations. Clearly, Mr. Starr, you have some special talents. It could have greatly upset the world balance of power had you chosen to take those talents elsewhere..."

"It would have greatly upset the world balance of power if I had let that asteroid hit the Earth," I replied sourly.

"Yes, sir," he replied. His demeanor remained straight militaristic business. "But now there are other individuals who share some of your talents. There are elements in the world that would like very much to upset the balance of power. They will be very interested in individuals that have those talents, to study them and see what might be learned from them."

Oh my god... I had never thought past the day of impact. I had created all of these half-humans, we had succeeded—but now they were loose in the world. "Are you suggesting that my children...may be targets for kidnapping?" Or worse, I thought. What had I done?

"We must be prepared for the possibility," he said evenly. "The United States Government is prepared to assign Secret Service agents to any and all possible targets. But... we could use your help, Mr. Starr."

"What can I do?" I asked, freaked out at the thought of my children being kidnapped and subjected to fiendish experimentation in the mountains of Afghanistan or something.

"If we could learn more about you, and understand what makes you so special, it would allow us to stay one step ahead of any subversive elements."

"So you want to study me," I summarized. The scenario I had so long dreaded.

"We would just appreciate any cooperation you would be willing to provide. Do you have any insights into what makes you different? What other abilities do you have that we don't know about? Do you have any technology that we might learn from? And what other things can you teach our scientists beyond the existence of anti-matter comets?" I nodded. There was a LOT I knew, and now people were finally ready to listen.

"We would just like to ask for your assistance, Mr. Starr, or the world might end up facing an Armageddon of an entirely different sort. The world is something of a different place since you last were here, Mr. Starr," the General commented.

"So I've heard," I commented with resignation, "what do you want me to do?"

"We would appreciate any knowledge that you are willing to share, Mr. Starr. We'll arrange for you to meet with the best minds our country has to offer: scientists, engineers, doctors. We'll take whatever you are able to tell us."

"You're going to want to probe me with needles," I conjectured.

"Your participation in any and all activities is strictly voluntary," he rebutted. "If you would be willing to provide a blood sample that would be greatly appreciated, but if you don't that would be up to you. Maybe we could take a little hair instead? We could get genetic information off of that."

"You'd let me call the shots?" I asked suspiciously. "How do I know that you're not just saying that, and next thing I know I'm padlocked in a cell with a tube up my ass."

"At this moment, you're the most famous person on the planet," he answered seriously. "If something were to happen to you while you were in our care... it might bring about the very destabilization we hope to prevent."

I had no idea of the jubilation going on in every city in the world, I was in the middle of the desert in the most secret spot on Earth. Apparently, celebrity was my safety net. If the guys in black killed me, the whole world would literally be calling for blood. Plus, it seemed I needed them. I had created this army of half-humans to save the world; now that the mission was accomplished, I had a responsibility to try to protect those children from fringe elements of a world gone mad. It was in both our interests to work together.

"OK, I'll come with you," I said with resignation, "but get me a sandwich, would ya? I'm STARVING."

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Eddie and most of the others had accepted Air Force offers to be flown home. I was sitting in a cafeteria across from Genny, waiting for the Air Force to get a transport to take her home. We were watching the news on TV; it was surreal. People were so giddy as to be dangerous, but the crowds everywhere were so large that not even the Army could disperse them, they could only keep them contained.

"Wow. The world's really gone mad, hasn't it?" I noted.

"Yeah. And it's been especially hard on Mom," she said absently.

"Speaking of which, I tried to call her earlier, but her phone was out of service. I guess that makes sense, if you had to go into hiding."

She nodded absently. She didn't volunteer anything else.

"Can you give me her new number so I can call her?" I asked pointedly.

Genny bit her lip nervously. "Umm... no, I can't."

"You can't?" I was confused.

"She asked me not to."

"She asked you to NOT give me her phone number?" I was now really confused.

"Dad... she's taking this very hard. The last three months, the going into hiding, arranging the space flight and now losing Billy... she's very upset. She said she doesn't want to talk to you."

"She doesn't want to talk to me?" I parroted, not believing what I was hearing.

"Dad, just give her a couple of days. She's grieving."

"Can you relay a message to her for me?" I asked, still stunned.

"Actually she asked that I relay a message to you," she answered uncertainly.

"Oh?"

She gulped. "She said that she knows it's not fair, but she can't help it. She's so angry about everything that's happened she never wants to see your face again."

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Genny was wrong; a couple of days didn't make any difference whatsoever. There was a big formal state funeral in Billy's honor, watched on TV by a billion around the world. Congress had awarded him the Medal of Honor and an empty casket was symbolically buried at Arlington. Throughout the whole ceremony, Amy used poor Quinn like a shield, keeping our younger daughter between the two of us at all times. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she refused to allow herself to even glance towards the side where I was standing. The President himself gave an address, and Genny gave a touching eulogy. After the coffin had been laid to rest and Amy turned to leave, I managed to reach for her arm. She pulled it away violently, but was at least partly facing me.

"Amy...what's going on?" I asked.

"Just... stay away from me. I dedicated my life to your... plan... and look what it got me. Well, I'm not going to let you mess up my life ANY MORE." She turned and stomped away.

I shrugged at Quinn. "I'm sorry Dad," she said, fresh tears coming--she had already lost a brother, and now her parents weren't speaking.

"Don't worry about it, it's not your fault," I said trying to soothe her. I hugged her and stroked her hair, but only for a moment; she gave me a sad, brave smile and ran after her mother, who was already sitting in the limousine.

I shuffled off slowly as their car left, trailed at a respectful distance by Secret Service agents. I was sad, but through the whole thing I didn't cry. I knew all about the physical differences between our species, but I was just now beginning to understand the emotional ones. We just don't get hysterical like you do, and consequently to you we can sometimes appear uncaring or aloof. I'm sure that didn't help matters with Amy, but what can I do? I'm sure that the display of strong emotions is somehow related to your strange concealed ovulation process; strong feelings lead to reconciliation and then sex, causing it to be favorably selected. For better or worse, we experienced things like grief in different ways.

I got in the car the FBI had waiting for me and let them take me to a secret base near Quantico. My house was a burned-out shell I was told, torched months ago by angry New Yorkers that thought I had abandoned them all to perish. My foundation was gone, I was broke, and I didn't know when I would ever see the family I had spent 15 years raising again. I'd already spent two days at Area 51, but I was letting them take me in for more "explorations." It's not like I had anyplace else to go.

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I spent the next week at a secret government facility--I honestly don't know who ran the thing. I talked with scientists, met with national security advisors, and saw more doctors than I could count. Most of them were boring, dour people, but there was one person that I was always glad to see. Her name was Dr. McGuire, and she was an internist. She seemed to be in charge of trying to understand how my physiology was different--like why I could lift so much weight, and why I could levitate. She was always very businesslike and professional, but even under the stodgy lab coat there were hints of what appeared to be an impressive set of curves underneath. She had to be in her late 20s or early 30s, given her title and position, but she carried it with an impressive balance between "still young enough to be hot" and "experienced enough to know what I'm doing." She had blonde hair piled up tight to her head, and shapely calves that protruded out under the lab coat and invariably ended in a pair of brightly-colored pumps. What really stood out, though, was her bright blue eyes, impeccably framed with a professional-like makeup application and magnified behind a pair of large, fashionable eyeglasses.

I'd given Dr. McGuire hair and blood samples, let her take an MRI, even done a stress test. On this day, I was finally getting out of the machine after what had seemed to be an interminable CT scan. She was standing at the foot of the sliding bed as I came out of the ring, attentive and polite as always. "Thank you very much, Mr. Starr," she said formally.

"Bill," I reminded her for the fifteenth time. She ignored my request, as always.

"It will take me some time to analyze the results," she said as she always seemed to, "will you be available next week?"

"I don't think so," I said. The bed had stopped moving and I could finally sit up again. "I'm really getting sick of this place... I don't know where I'll go yet, but I need to get out of here. If there's anything else you want, you'll have to do it soon."

She bit her lip nervously (and unconsciously, very sexily). She had the appearance of wanting to ask something but being afraid to. "I take it there IS something else you wanted?" I inferred, slightly testy.

"Well... um..." she gulped, "I wondered if... um..." I stared at her blankly. "I wonder if you would be willing to provide a sperm sample?" she finally blurted.

I chuckled. THAT'S why she'd been so anxious. "Well, Dr. M.," I said jovially, "as you know I've provided many sperm samples here on this planet already. But seriously, I'm sorry but I'm not willing to sit in that cramped little room you've got me in and jerk off while 50 cameras are rolling."

Her mouth frowned in disappointment, but she said, "I understand."

"I'm sorry, I'm just not comfortable with all these cameras in here--hell, I don't even like taking a crap in this place. If there was some other way for me to get you a sample, you'd be welcome to have it... but not the way it is around here."

She nodded, understanding what I meant. She at least got to go home every night--at least, I assumed she did. People did have a way of popping up at almost any hour of the day around here.

I let her escort me back to my room. It was completely unnecessary, of course, because by now I knew every inch of this place, but attractive female company was rare around here, so I savored every moment of it. Aside from Dr. McGuire and a couple of nurses that I seldom saw, there just wasn't much to look at around here. But at my door she took her leave, and I returned to my lonely, self-imposed prison. Don't get me wrong, they tried to make it feel homey--I had sheets, a TV, access to a computer, even a video game console. But this place wasn't built for entertaining; I'm not sure what it WAS build for, probably a convalescence center for persons of interest to the government since there was a nurse's station at the end of the hall. But after 5 or so, this place became quiet like a morgue. It didn't help that there was an entire wing of rooms, but I was the only resident. I could walk down and chat with the nurses, but they were bound to their station, and the guards that were posted at every corner became very nervous whenever I chatted them up. I know the guards were protecting me, not keeping me in, but their presence didn't make it feel any more homey. I knew I had to get out.

I watched the TV blankly. There were tabloid serials before the news, and in the last week I'd become the top story. They were tracking down every lead they could about me--some true, some fabricated. I waited around glumly for my dinner to arrive. Military rations--yay. I sighed, thinking about the house and the family I'd left behind--or maybe I should say they had left me. I couldn't even call or sent texts to my kids from here, the walls were too thick to permit a signal through. I was reduced to emailing Genny and the others. I had no idea what kind of life I could carve out for myself on this planet now, and yet going back wasn't an option, even if I reclaimed my ship--well, the Princess'. I hadn't asked to be a hero, I had done this to save my own skin as much as anything, but still it seemed like somehow saving an entire planet should something better than a sterile, lonely military hospital bed. Oh well... living on my planet, not knowing where the next volcano is gonna blow, you learn pretty quick that life's not fair.

There was a knock at my door. I glanced at the clock--it was 5:30. Dinner never arrived before six. "Who is it?" I called.

"It's Dr. McGuire," said the voice.

"Come in," I called, sitting up on the bed and shutting off the TV. What was she still doing here this late?

"Mr. Starr..." she started, peeking in.

"Bill," I corrected her.

"OK... Bill," she said with a slight smile. It was the first time she'd actually called me Bill, after probably sixteen times of correcting her. "I was working late, and I was wondering if maybe you were hungry?"

"Sure," I nodded, "what's for dinner tonight... meat loaf again?"

"Ugh... that stuff is NASTY," she said, turning up her nose. "How about some pizza?"

"THAT," I said excitedly, "would be WONDERFUL. Has that been here all along, and I've just not found it???"

"Not exactly," she said mysteriously, "follow me."

I jumped up out of bed and into the hall. She was still wearing her lab coat, but she had it unbuttoned now, and I could see that under it she wore a plum suit, nicely tailored, with a hemline well above the knee. The neckline of her blouse was demure, yet the way it curved in the third dimension suggested that, well, she must have quite a rack. I hurried to keep up with her; I was just happy to actually spend some social time with someone. "I suppose I should clarify, I have access to some frozen pizzas... there's not a restaurant on base..."

"That would be just fine," I protested. "I'd rather eat a pizzastill frozen than meat loaf again." She let loose a free, natural laugh. It was nice to catch a glimpse of the woman behind the stodgy bureaucrat.

I wasn't paying close attention to where she was taking me until I realized we had been walking more than I expected. I didn't know where her office was, but we had gone down the entire length of the wing, down the stairs from the second floor and emerged in a windowless basement. There were very few doors down here at all, and those that were appeared to be securely locked down. The hall itself, however, seemed to go on forever before taking a bend to the right. The clicks of her heels on the hard floor echoed down the empty halls. I didn't know what else might be down there, but there were pipes overhead running parallel to the hall and I could see them bend to the right far ahead in the distance.