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ffuturesContinuing my Worm / War of the Worlds crossover story.
The previous chapters are archived on these sites:
On Twisting the Hellmouth - https://www.tthfanfic.org/story.php?no=33872
On AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/39112812
On Fanfiction.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14083560/1/The-Martian
On Spacebattles Forum - https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/the-martian-worm-the-war-of-the-worlds-au.1034761/
See chapter I for disclaimers.
The Martian
IX: Blue Mars
I was up early on Sunday morning, looked out of the window to see grey cloud and light snow that was mostly melting as soon as it landed, and started reading PHO again. Not much more about the tentaclemobile or the attack on Danny, reinforcing the idea that the PRT was running some information control, and no new personal messages, which made it seem a little more likely that Emma was on the run, not sending her usual vitriol. Overnight Ralph124C41+ had posted a new chapter of their Brockton Baywatch AU. For some reason the story had Aunt Hannah aka Dad #2 as a human and Vista as an adult, I think so that they didn't have to describe a Martian in a bikini or someone Vista's age with boobs. I would have been offended by the racism of making Hannah human, but Martian characters appeared fairly often in secondary roles and were usually depicted accurately, and some of the writing was hilarious. As usual there was a new opening "title montage" before the chapter began:
The camera pans across a glistening beach, carefully minimizing the ugly mess of beached ships at one end and lingering briefly on Uber and Leet playing beach volleyball against Lung and Armsmaster, to focus on a lifeguard's tower where spandex-clad Miss Militia scans the surf for any sign of trouble. The rest of her team - Vista, Shadow Stalker, Glory Girl and Panacea - run across the beach in slow-mo to man a speedboat, and head out into the bay to intercept an ominous shape seen dimly through the water which might be a whale, a shark, a giant lizard or even Leviathan itself, as the titles appear:
Brockton Baywatch
Chapter 17 - The Sharks and the Jets
"Okay, listen up," Vista shouted from the communications console, waving to get everyone's attention, "report from the coast guard, Blasto's released another giant mutant sharktopus and it may be headed this way!"
"That asshole gives biotinkers a bad name," said Panacea, the team's healer, "what the heck can we do about it?"
"I'm sure we'll think of something," said Miss Militia, a harpoon materializing in her hands. "What worries me is that it's Independence Day tomorrow, we've got the big jet-ski competition and there'll be hundreds of people in the water, At the speed those things swim it could easily crash the party..."
I read on, expecting that a few jet-skiers would come to a sticky end; instead the sharktopus jumped over the lock gates of the (entirely fictional) Brockton Bay yacht club, causing a huge panic and getting tangled in mooring cables, and had to be rescued by the lifeguards and animal welfare organizations. It turned out to be a diversion for another of Blasto's diabolical plans, of course, but that was the revelation that ended the chapter so I was probably going to have to wait for a week or two to learn his dastardly secret scheme.
My email pinged, it turned out to be a message from the Naval Museum's administration. Someone was evidently in the office early, probably there to make sure the museum was clean and ready to re-open following yesterday's events. Since I'd been exposed to a biohazard - Sophia's blood - they were giving me two weeks paid leave, including the previous day. It would have felt a lot more generous if it wasn't a weekend-only job, but three and a half day's wages for no work wasn't that bad. If I hadn't been checked by Panacea I would have been a lot more worried about the biohazard, and dad would have probably had to pay for some expensive tests.
I dipped into a Harry Potter story, shuddered at the sheer badness of the writing, checked another story by the same author, then set my browser to ignore future postings from them. I can put up with a lot of things in fanfic, but wilful disregard for grammar, punctuation and spelling isn't amongst them. Also wilful ignorance of biology, since the last time I looked there were no humming-birds in the wild in Europe. While I was posting a suitable review someone knocked on my door. I stretched out a tentacle to open it, expecting Dad. Instead Aunt Hannah was there, already dressed for the outdoors. She handed me a shake in a thermal mug, and said "Better get your socks on, they've scheduled us for a meeting with the Image Department at ten."
I started to pull them on. "That was fast, I thought it would be a few days."
"We got lucky, Gt'uzz Jenkins had business in Milford yesterday and finished sooner than expected, so he's changed his plans and can see you today."
"Who?"
"He's the deputy head of Image who handles most of the Martians in the PRT and Wards."
"That's lucky, I guess."
"The lucky part is we're Martians, not human, so he doesn't get to mess us about nearly as badly."
It was true enough, nearly all Martians with powers wear variations on the same gear; an armoured shell to protect the cephalothorax, which is basically equivalent to a crash helmet combined with body armour, with kevlar-sleeved holes for our tentacles, a mask or goggles, and socks with impact and chemical protection. It's like a high-end version of the protective gear most Martians wear at the docks, or in any other hazardous environment. Some of the tinkers wear powered armour, of course, but other than that the main differences between Martian capes tends to be costume color and the logo on the cephalothorax.
Danny AKA Dad #1 wasn't coming with us - he'd left a lot of unfinished business the previous day, and was waiting for a couple of other union members to ride in with him to work. Maybe not as safe as a police escort, but the PRT couldn't give him protection without blowing my secret identity, and the cops in Brockton Bay were never very protective of Martians. The union takes care of its own, and I had a feeling that for the next few days some of them would be giving a very real meaning to the phrase "riding shotgun".
Overnight someone had parked Hannah's car outside our house, and we were soon in it and on our way, via a circuitous route so it wasn't too obvious where we were going.
Once we were on the move she asked "Any idea what design you want on your costume?"
"Pretty much has to be an ancient Greek ship. A trireme with a ram would be good."
"I guess I can see that. Make sure it has sails, if it only has oars people will think of galley slaves."
"That's usually a misnomer - most navies and merchants that used galleys preferred paid crew who would fight to defend their ship, slaves were too likely to mutiny or slack off."
"Best not to have that argument come up," said Hannah. "It sounds a little like special pleading. A couple of sails are probably a better option."
"Fair point. The other problem is that I can't claim that my family is actually from Greece, not by ancestry or by immigration. I looked it up, that's one of the countries that the Martians never actually got round to invading, and their government blocks Martian immigration. They might raise objections."
She signalled a turn and changed lanes, heading back towards the PRT building. "I looked things up too. Currently the PRT and Wards have eighteen capes with names derived from Greek mythology, including two other Martians. A lot of capes dig into that mythology for ideas, from all over the world, and I've never heard of them complaining, apart from that one time..."
"What one time?"
"Mister Apollo? The musician? Seriously, you never heard of him?"
"Doesn't ring any bells."
"He was a musical savant with multi-tasking powers, could play any instrument and he was pretty good. He signed up with a rock group in the nineties, played drums, keyboard, and half a dozen other instruments simultaneously. Trouble was, he took his cape name too seriously, started claiming to be the literal incarnation of the god of music, and that didn't go down well with the Greek government. A couple of weeks later he was struck by lightning while they were setting up for an outdoor rock concert. We're pretty sure that one of the Greek capes with electrical powers was in the country incognito, but that's not exactly proof. Killed Mister Apollo, and blew out most of their electronics. Spinal Tap were never quite the same after that, the insurers could only supply replacement amps that went up to ten!"
I stared at her for a moment. "Isn't it a bit early in the day to be making dad jokes?"
"Who's joking?"
"I read the Darwin Awards - Spinal Tap drummers are automatically exempt on the assumtion that they're committing suicide by joining the group, but they do list the dumbness every time one of them dies. They've never had one struck by lightning."
"Musical savant, remember, he was tuning up a guitar when he died, so technically not a drummer at the time. And no, I wasn't joking. It didn't hit the news much at the time, it was in 2002, a few hours before Behemoth attacked Bogotá, and that took all the headlines over the next couple of weeks."
That's something that nobody jokes about, of course, so I had to assume the story was true. But I'd definitely look it up when I had a chance.
There was a short silence, then I asked "Any news of Emma and her family? Or Sophia Hess, I suppose."
"No idea about Emma, last I heard we were still looking for the whole family. Shadow Stalker is out of hospital, they've taken her statement already, and by now she's en route to New York, they'll hold her there until her family is ready to leave town, after that I've heard they'll be headed for Bozeman, Montana."
"What's in Bozeman?"
"Montana State University, lots of agriculture, and average winter temperatures twenty to thirty degrees below Brockton Bay. We have an office there and I think three Wards, students at the University. Sophia will be the youngest and probably the dumbest."
"Sounds good."
"It gets better," said Hannah, "Sophia hates getting cold, every time I've been on a patrol with the wards this winter she's complained."
"My hearts bleed for her."
"Mine doesn't, the bitch deserves it, even if Emma was tricking her. But I guess I feel a little sorry for her family, though the PRT will make sure that they have work and somewhere okay to live."
"I guess."
Gt'uzz Jenkins had a strong Texan accent and looked like he'd been around the block a few times; his right eye was covered by an eye-patch and two of his tentacles had been amputated to about quarter length. He'd been a Texas Ranger, invalided out after a fight with drug smugglers, and transferred to a desk job in the PRT instead of taking medical retirement.
"I like the idea of a trireme," he said once I'd explained my idea and he'd found a picture on line. "It certainly ties in with the whole Theseus thing. Hanna's right that it can't have oars, but it's not just the galley slave thing, they'd make the insignia too complicated and too bug-like, like lots of little legs. It does need something added though. As it is it does't really give much of an impression of what you do."
"You're right, I guess."
"How about we morph it... Start at the front with the Greek design, reeds and wood and so forth and a sail, then as we go towards the back the hull changes to metal, maybe funnels and a radar dish, and a big wake at the back to make it obvious it has propellers."
"That'd be cool, if you can make it look impressive."
"Let me throw it at our artists, they ought to have sketches in a day or two. Anything else I should know about your costume?"
"I think I'd prefer quieter colors, maybe blue like the sea, nothing gaudy. I doubt I'll be out there fighting crime anyway, my guess is I'll mostly be helping with vehicles and manufacturing equipment."
"That shouldn't be a problem. Anything else?"
"I'll probably need to carry tools and so forth, and I really don't think that carrying them in a box or a bag is a good idea if I do have to go out into the field. Maybe tool holsters on some of my tentacles? What do other Martians do?"
Hannah held out a tentacle with a holstered pistol, and created a sawn-off shotgun out of energy, cradled in another two tentacles. "Holsters work, but they can be a little uncomfortable."
"Sounds about right," said Jenkins, raising one of his own tentacles to show that he had a small pistol in a pocket on one of his socks. "Back when I was a Ranger it was always a problem, I ended up using a small bag strapped under my body, but if you need tools you'll probably need something a lot bulkier."
"Could you make them as you need them?" asked Hannah. "Your power is shaping things, maybe just carry enough metal to make the largest tool you need, and shape it as you need it."
I thought for a second. "That's okay if I only need one tool, but I can see it getting complicated if I need several, and so far my power isn't accurate enough to make precision tools or power tools."
"Maybe shelve this one for now," said Jenkins. "Now, any thoughts on how we introduce you?"
"I could turn up in the tentaclemobile, it's a little noisy but should be impressive."
"That works, but I meant something to showcase the idea before you come on stage."
"Getting back to the ship - maybe an animated video showing it morphing from the trireme to something more modern?"
"I like that, especially with some good music. And your tentaclemobile shows the sort of thing you make. What else?"
"Have a big model trireme on stage," suggested Hannah, "and morph it in front of everyone, to make a model to match your insignia."
I said "Cool!" then felt really stupid, and added "but it would have to be made of something I can shape-change easily, metal or some sort of plastic, I can't reshape wood easily."
"Maybe metal painted to look like wood, have the paint fall off as you reshape it."
I'd done something similar when they were testing me, so I knew it was possible. "I think that would work."
"Okay," said Jenkins, "I think we have a winner."
"Any thoughts on when we should do it?" asked Hannah.
"It's the third tomorrow, let's say a week for costume design and planning and making sure all of the wards are available, meanwhile we spread a few rumors and get a buzz going before the big announcement, fix any problems, and set up to show you to the publc. Say the evening of January nineteenth if nothing goes wrong."
"That long?" It felt like it would be an eternity.
"Trust me," said Hannah, "you'll soon be thinking it's way too soon."
"So what happens next?"
"Nothing else today," said Hannah, "but as soon as possible you should meet the Wards. That's probably going to have to be Wednesday evening, Youth Guard regulations say to give Wards the last day of vacation and the first couple of schooldays to get back into the swing of things before resuming weekday duties. Say seven PM?"
"I'll have to check with dad but I think it would be okay."
"Okay. I think that goes for you too, you need to finish getting ready for school and with all the excitement yesterday I'd imagine there's still plenty to do."
"Joy."
"Are we done here?" asked Jenkins, "Because I've got a plane to catch."
"We're done," said Hannah.
So we headed back to her car, and drove another circuitous route back into town to get my last-minute shopping.
TBC
If you like the idea of the Brockton Baywatch AU and want to use it in your stories, please go right ahead, but please link back to this story if possible. Plots should emphasize the tropes so dear to this genre - scantily-clad beautiful people running and swimming in slow-mo, beach fun, and lots of fast cars and boats etc. I like the idea of it turning up as fanfic read by the characters in stories, but remember not to use real Worm character secret identities, since fanfic authors wouldn't know them. Anyone who wants to write an actual story based on the premise is welcome, of course, but make it fun, and have a new and silly title sequence for every chapter! Other than that, please do what you want.
Ralph142C41+ was the hero of an early SF story by Hugo Gernsback.
Blue Mars is a novel by Kim Stanley Robinson.
There is no significance in the choice of Bozeman as Sophia's new home, I used a "random American town" web site then checked for details that would make it a good punishment posting. Bozeman was the fourth town the site produced, and the first that seemed suitable.
Now posted to archives.
The previous chapters are archived on these sites:
On Twisting the Hellmouth - https://www.tthfanfic.org/story.php?no=33872
On AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/39112812
On Fanfiction.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14083560/1/The-Martian
On Spacebattles Forum - https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/the-martian-worm-the-war-of-the-worlds-au.1034761/
See chapter I for disclaimers.
IX: Blue Mars
I was up early on Sunday morning, looked out of the window to see grey cloud and light snow that was mostly melting as soon as it landed, and started reading PHO again. Not much more about the tentaclemobile or the attack on Danny, reinforcing the idea that the PRT was running some information control, and no new personal messages, which made it seem a little more likely that Emma was on the run, not sending her usual vitriol. Overnight Ralph124C41+ had posted a new chapter of their Brockton Baywatch AU. For some reason the story had Aunt Hannah aka Dad #2 as a human and Vista as an adult, I think so that they didn't have to describe a Martian in a bikini or someone Vista's age with boobs. I would have been offended by the racism of making Hannah human, but Martian characters appeared fairly often in secondary roles and were usually depicted accurately, and some of the writing was hilarious. As usual there was a new opening "title montage" before the chapter began:
The camera pans across a glistening beach, carefully minimizing the ugly mess of beached ships at one end and lingering briefly on Uber and Leet playing beach volleyball against Lung and Armsmaster, to focus on a lifeguard's tower where spandex-clad Miss Militia scans the surf for any sign of trouble. The rest of her team - Vista, Shadow Stalker, Glory Girl and Panacea - run across the beach in slow-mo to man a speedboat, and head out into the bay to intercept an ominous shape seen dimly through the water which might be a whale, a shark, a giant lizard or even Leviathan itself, as the titles appear:
Brockton Baywatch
Chapter 17 - The Sharks and the Jets
"Okay, listen up," Vista shouted from the communications console, waving to get everyone's attention, "report from the coast guard, Blasto's released another giant mutant sharktopus and it may be headed this way!"
"That asshole gives biotinkers a bad name," said Panacea, the team's healer, "what the heck can we do about it?"
"I'm sure we'll think of something," said Miss Militia, a harpoon materializing in her hands. "What worries me is that it's Independence Day tomorrow, we've got the big jet-ski competition and there'll be hundreds of people in the water, At the speed those things swim it could easily crash the party..."
I read on, expecting that a few jet-skiers would come to a sticky end; instead the sharktopus jumped over the lock gates of the (entirely fictional) Brockton Bay yacht club, causing a huge panic and getting tangled in mooring cables, and had to be rescued by the lifeguards and animal welfare organizations. It turned out to be a diversion for another of Blasto's diabolical plans, of course, but that was the revelation that ended the chapter so I was probably going to have to wait for a week or two to learn his dastardly secret scheme.
My email pinged, it turned out to be a message from the Naval Museum's administration. Someone was evidently in the office early, probably there to make sure the museum was clean and ready to re-open following yesterday's events. Since I'd been exposed to a biohazard - Sophia's blood - they were giving me two weeks paid leave, including the previous day. It would have felt a lot more generous if it wasn't a weekend-only job, but three and a half day's wages for no work wasn't that bad. If I hadn't been checked by Panacea I would have been a lot more worried about the biohazard, and dad would have probably had to pay for some expensive tests.
I dipped into a Harry Potter story, shuddered at the sheer badness of the writing, checked another story by the same author, then set my browser to ignore future postings from them. I can put up with a lot of things in fanfic, but wilful disregard for grammar, punctuation and spelling isn't amongst them. Also wilful ignorance of biology, since the last time I looked there were no humming-birds in the wild in Europe. While I was posting a suitable review someone knocked on my door. I stretched out a tentacle to open it, expecting Dad. Instead Aunt Hannah was there, already dressed for the outdoors. She handed me a shake in a thermal mug, and said "Better get your socks on, they've scheduled us for a meeting with the Image Department at ten."
I started to pull them on. "That was fast, I thought it would be a few days."
"We got lucky, Gt'uzz Jenkins had business in Milford yesterday and finished sooner than expected, so he's changed his plans and can see you today."
"Who?"
"He's the deputy head of Image who handles most of the Martians in the PRT and Wards."
"That's lucky, I guess."
"The lucky part is we're Martians, not human, so he doesn't get to mess us about nearly as badly."
It was true enough, nearly all Martians with powers wear variations on the same gear; an armoured shell to protect the cephalothorax, which is basically equivalent to a crash helmet combined with body armour, with kevlar-sleeved holes for our tentacles, a mask or goggles, and socks with impact and chemical protection. It's like a high-end version of the protective gear most Martians wear at the docks, or in any other hazardous environment. Some of the tinkers wear powered armour, of course, but other than that the main differences between Martian capes tends to be costume color and the logo on the cephalothorax.
Danny AKA Dad #1 wasn't coming with us - he'd left a lot of unfinished business the previous day, and was waiting for a couple of other union members to ride in with him to work. Maybe not as safe as a police escort, but the PRT couldn't give him protection without blowing my secret identity, and the cops in Brockton Bay were never very protective of Martians. The union takes care of its own, and I had a feeling that for the next few days some of them would be giving a very real meaning to the phrase "riding shotgun".
Overnight someone had parked Hannah's car outside our house, and we were soon in it and on our way, via a circuitous route so it wasn't too obvious where we were going.
Once we were on the move she asked "Any idea what design you want on your costume?"
"Pretty much has to be an ancient Greek ship. A trireme with a ram would be good."
"I guess I can see that. Make sure it has sails, if it only has oars people will think of galley slaves."
"That's usually a misnomer - most navies and merchants that used galleys preferred paid crew who would fight to defend their ship, slaves were too likely to mutiny or slack off."
"Best not to have that argument come up," said Hannah. "It sounds a little like special pleading. A couple of sails are probably a better option."
"Fair point. The other problem is that I can't claim that my family is actually from Greece, not by ancestry or by immigration. I looked it up, that's one of the countries that the Martians never actually got round to invading, and their government blocks Martian immigration. They might raise objections."
She signalled a turn and changed lanes, heading back towards the PRT building. "I looked things up too. Currently the PRT and Wards have eighteen capes with names derived from Greek mythology, including two other Martians. A lot of capes dig into that mythology for ideas, from all over the world, and I've never heard of them complaining, apart from that one time..."
"What one time?"
"Mister Apollo? The musician? Seriously, you never heard of him?"
"Doesn't ring any bells."
"He was a musical savant with multi-tasking powers, could play any instrument and he was pretty good. He signed up with a rock group in the nineties, played drums, keyboard, and half a dozen other instruments simultaneously. Trouble was, he took his cape name too seriously, started claiming to be the literal incarnation of the god of music, and that didn't go down well with the Greek government. A couple of weeks later he was struck by lightning while they were setting up for an outdoor rock concert. We're pretty sure that one of the Greek capes with electrical powers was in the country incognito, but that's not exactly proof. Killed Mister Apollo, and blew out most of their electronics. Spinal Tap were never quite the same after that, the insurers could only supply replacement amps that went up to ten!"
I stared at her for a moment. "Isn't it a bit early in the day to be making dad jokes?"
"Who's joking?"
"I read the Darwin Awards - Spinal Tap drummers are automatically exempt on the assumtion that they're committing suicide by joining the group, but they do list the dumbness every time one of them dies. They've never had one struck by lightning."
"Musical savant, remember, he was tuning up a guitar when he died, so technically not a drummer at the time. And no, I wasn't joking. It didn't hit the news much at the time, it was in 2002, a few hours before Behemoth attacked Bogotá, and that took all the headlines over the next couple of weeks."
That's something that nobody jokes about, of course, so I had to assume the story was true. But I'd definitely look it up when I had a chance.
There was a short silence, then I asked "Any news of Emma and her family? Or Sophia Hess, I suppose."
"No idea about Emma, last I heard we were still looking for the whole family. Shadow Stalker is out of hospital, they've taken her statement already, and by now she's en route to New York, they'll hold her there until her family is ready to leave town, after that I've heard they'll be headed for Bozeman, Montana."
"What's in Bozeman?"
"Montana State University, lots of agriculture, and average winter temperatures twenty to thirty degrees below Brockton Bay. We have an office there and I think three Wards, students at the University. Sophia will be the youngest and probably the dumbest."
"Sounds good."
"It gets better," said Hannah, "Sophia hates getting cold, every time I've been on a patrol with the wards this winter she's complained."
"My hearts bleed for her."
"Mine doesn't, the bitch deserves it, even if Emma was tricking her. But I guess I feel a little sorry for her family, though the PRT will make sure that they have work and somewhere okay to live."
"I guess."
Gt'uzz Jenkins had a strong Texan accent and looked like he'd been around the block a few times; his right eye was covered by an eye-patch and two of his tentacles had been amputated to about quarter length. He'd been a Texas Ranger, invalided out after a fight with drug smugglers, and transferred to a desk job in the PRT instead of taking medical retirement.
"I like the idea of a trireme," he said once I'd explained my idea and he'd found a picture on line. "It certainly ties in with the whole Theseus thing. Hanna's right that it can't have oars, but it's not just the galley slave thing, they'd make the insignia too complicated and too bug-like, like lots of little legs. It does need something added though. As it is it does't really give much of an impression of what you do."
"You're right, I guess."
"How about we morph it... Start at the front with the Greek design, reeds and wood and so forth and a sail, then as we go towards the back the hull changes to metal, maybe funnels and a radar dish, and a big wake at the back to make it obvious it has propellers."
"That'd be cool, if you can make it look impressive."
"Let me throw it at our artists, they ought to have sketches in a day or two. Anything else I should know about your costume?"
"I think I'd prefer quieter colors, maybe blue like the sea, nothing gaudy. I doubt I'll be out there fighting crime anyway, my guess is I'll mostly be helping with vehicles and manufacturing equipment."
"That shouldn't be a problem. Anything else?"
"I'll probably need to carry tools and so forth, and I really don't think that carrying them in a box or a bag is a good idea if I do have to go out into the field. Maybe tool holsters on some of my tentacles? What do other Martians do?"
Hannah held out a tentacle with a holstered pistol, and created a sawn-off shotgun out of energy, cradled in another two tentacles. "Holsters work, but they can be a little uncomfortable."
"Sounds about right," said Jenkins, raising one of his own tentacles to show that he had a small pistol in a pocket on one of his socks. "Back when I was a Ranger it was always a problem, I ended up using a small bag strapped under my body, but if you need tools you'll probably need something a lot bulkier."
"Could you make them as you need them?" asked Hannah. "Your power is shaping things, maybe just carry enough metal to make the largest tool you need, and shape it as you need it."
I thought for a second. "That's okay if I only need one tool, but I can see it getting complicated if I need several, and so far my power isn't accurate enough to make precision tools or power tools."
"Maybe shelve this one for now," said Jenkins. "Now, any thoughts on how we introduce you?"
"I could turn up in the tentaclemobile, it's a little noisy but should be impressive."
"That works, but I meant something to showcase the idea before you come on stage."
"Getting back to the ship - maybe an animated video showing it morphing from the trireme to something more modern?"
"I like that, especially with some good music. And your tentaclemobile shows the sort of thing you make. What else?"
"Have a big model trireme on stage," suggested Hannah, "and morph it in front of everyone, to make a model to match your insignia."
I said "Cool!" then felt really stupid, and added "but it would have to be made of something I can shape-change easily, metal or some sort of plastic, I can't reshape wood easily."
"Maybe metal painted to look like wood, have the paint fall off as you reshape it."
I'd done something similar when they were testing me, so I knew it was possible. "I think that would work."
"Okay," said Jenkins, "I think we have a winner."
"Any thoughts on when we should do it?" asked Hannah.
"It's the third tomorrow, let's say a week for costume design and planning and making sure all of the wards are available, meanwhile we spread a few rumors and get a buzz going before the big announcement, fix any problems, and set up to show you to the publc. Say the evening of January nineteenth if nothing goes wrong."
"That long?" It felt like it would be an eternity.
"Trust me," said Hannah, "you'll soon be thinking it's way too soon."
"So what happens next?"
"Nothing else today," said Hannah, "but as soon as possible you should meet the Wards. That's probably going to have to be Wednesday evening, Youth Guard regulations say to give Wards the last day of vacation and the first couple of schooldays to get back into the swing of things before resuming weekday duties. Say seven PM?"
"I'll have to check with dad but I think it would be okay."
"Okay. I think that goes for you too, you need to finish getting ready for school and with all the excitement yesterday I'd imagine there's still plenty to do."
"Joy."
"Are we done here?" asked Jenkins, "Because I've got a plane to catch."
"We're done," said Hannah.
So we headed back to her car, and drove another circuitous route back into town to get my last-minute shopping.
TBC
If you like the idea of the Brockton Baywatch AU and want to use it in your stories, please go right ahead, but please link back to this story if possible. Plots should emphasize the tropes so dear to this genre - scantily-clad beautiful people running and swimming in slow-mo, beach fun, and lots of fast cars and boats etc. I like the idea of it turning up as fanfic read by the characters in stories, but remember not to use real Worm character secret identities, since fanfic authors wouldn't know them. Anyone who wants to write an actual story based on the premise is welcome, of course, but make it fun, and have a new and silly title sequence for every chapter! Other than that, please do what you want.
Ralph142C41+ was the hero of an early SF story by Hugo Gernsback.
Blue Mars is a novel by Kim Stanley Robinson.
There is no significance in the choice of Bozeman as Sophia's new home, I used a "random American town" web site then checked for details that would make it a good punishment posting. Bozeman was the fourth town the site produced, and the first that seemed suitable.
Now posted to archives.
