Supergirl's Sacrifice, page 17
Getting Cisco back . . . That would be clutch. Felicity was smart when it came to computers and hacking, but Cisco was brilliant and a polymath. He could synthesize high explosives out of used gum and aspirin, build a weather control machine out of baling wire and old batteries. His presence would change the complexion of their situation considerably.
“How?” she asked.
Caitlin leaned forward, eager. “Remember when Barry came back from the sixty-fourth century? He told us that everything resonates with vibrations unique to its own place and time in the Multiverse.”
“Yeah, I remember. He used some kind of device from the future—”
“The Cosmic Treadmill.”
“—Right. He used it to reset his vibrations, and his speed powers let him maintain those vibrations so that he could stay in the sixty-fourth century. Then, when he was done, he just let his vibrations return to normal and he popped back here immediately.”
“So . . .” Caitlin’s eyes danced with excitement. “So, what if we had a way to lock in on Cisco’s vibrations? And then reset them? He’d pop back here instantly.”
Iris frowned. “How would we do that?”
Digging into her lab coat’s big pocket, Caitlin produced a familiar set of sunglasses. Cisco’s “Vibe” shades. The ones he wore when he was out super-heroing. He’d taken them from the evil Earth 2 version of Cisco Ramon, then modified them for his own use. The sunglasses helped Cisco control and exploit his powers to their utmost.
“He left these behind when he went to help the others close the breach. The sunglasses are already attuned to Cisco’s unique vibrational pattern because he uses them to adjust those vibrations when he uses his powers.” Caitlin’s words tumbled out in a rush. “We can use these to give us a baseline, then use Reverse-Flash’s time sphere in the Starchives to go fishing in the time stream.”
Iris plucked the goggles from Caitlin’s fingers and stared at them. “And reel in our Cisco.”
For the first time in days, she allowed her lips to relax into a grin. “This just might work, Caitlin!” Triumphantly, she raised her coffee mug and took a big gulp . . .
Which she promptly spat out. “Right. Probably should have microwaved that after all. C’mon, let’s go tell Felicity your idea and see if she can help us make it work.”
Felicity listened as Caitlin and Iris described exactly what they needed from her. Then she blew a stray lock of blonde hair out of her eyes and ticked items off on her fingers as she spoke:
“So . . . you guys want me to take Earth 2 tech from these goggles and route it through a twenty-fourth-century time machine’s circuitry in order to ‘go fishing’ in the river of time, looking for Cisco? Really?”
“Really.” Iris bobbed her head eagerly. “Can you do it?”
Felicity thought about it. “But what if Cisco and Curtis aren’t together? Or what if it only yanks Cisco back and leaves Curtis wherever he is, alone?”
“Then at least we’ll have Cisco back,” Caitlin said, “and he can help us retrieve Curtis.”
“Look, Felicity,” Iris said, “this isn’t just our best chance to get things moving. It’s our only chance. You’re great, but—”
“But you need your genial mad scientist back. I get it.”
“No offense,” Caitlin said hurriedly.
“None taken.” Felicity tugged her hair into a ponytail. “If I’m gonna do this, I’m going to have to . . .”
She broke off at a bleating sound from a nearby control panel and shot out of her chair.
“That’s not an alarm!” Iris assured her. “It’s the doorbell.”
“Your doorbell just gave me a heart attack!”
Iris fiddled with a knob, and the big screen showed the main outer door into S.T.A.R. Labs. A tall, handsome Native American man stood there. He wore khaki pants, a white dress shirt with no tie, a blue windbreaker, and an expression of barely controlled frustration. It was the sort of look a man acquired after standing in a steady drizzle for an annoying and unnecessary half hour.
“Oh, that’s the guy,” Caitlin said. “The one I told you about before. Smith. The one who’s been wanting to talk to you.”
“Persistent, isn’t he? I can’t believe he’s back.” Iris studied him. He clearly wanted to ring the bell again but managed to restrain himself. “OK, fine. I’ll talk to him. Felicity, can you get started on the time retrieval whatever-it-is?”
Felicity threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t even know where to start! But, sure! Why not? It’s just elaborate quantum physics and intricate nano-engineering to wrangle the fundamental forces of the universe.”
Iris pretended not to pick up on the sarcasm in Felicity’s voice as she breezed past her on her way out of the Cortex. “Great! You and Caitlin get to work—I’ll go see what Agent Smith needs and get him off our backs.”
Smith was waiting for her in the S.T.A.R. Labs lobby, gazing at a pedestal that had a plaque embedded in it. Iris knew the words by heart:
YOU ARE STANDING ON THE VERY SPOT WHERE HARRISON ROBERT WELLS FIRST IMBIBED MOROCCAN BLEND. Along with a date and time.
“This is helpful information,” he said to her without preamble as she entered.
Iris extended a hand to him. “We had a friend with plans to turn this place into a museum. He was fiddling around with different ideas. Pleased to meet you, Agent Smith. I’m Iris West-Allen. I don’t mean to be brusque, but we’re swamped. What can I do for you?”
Smith took her hand and shook. “Not agent. Marshal. U.S. Marshal Ohiyesa Smith.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were a marshal. Look, you should still be liaising directly with CCPD. Captain David Singh is—”
He broke in, clearly not interested. “Mrs. West-Allen, I’m not here as part of a task force or any sort of relief organization. You guys had a big blowup downtown? Great. I don’t care. That’s not why I’m here.”
Taken aback, Iris blinked. Smith was intense. Like, Oliver Queen intense. “Marshal Smith, I’ve got four or five crises going on at the same time. If you’re not here to help, can you plan to be a pain in my butt some other day?”
He chuckled without mirth and scrounged for something in the pocket of his windbreaker. He spoke as though he hadn’t heard a single word she’d said. “When I was a kid, my great-grandfather died. Boo-hoo, everyone was sad. Whatever. I hardly knew him. I was named for him, though, and I guess that connected us in some way.”
“That’s sad and heartwarming, Marshal, but—”
He cut her off with a glance, finally producing a small beaded bag from his pocket. “My grandfather died about ten years ago. And my dad is sick, so it fell to me. I was supposed to be here a couple of days ago, but air traffic in and out of the area was restricted after the . . . whatever it was that happened here.” He held out the bag to her.
“What’s this?”
“Look inside.”
She peered into the bag. There was a smallish package in there, wrapped in what looked like leather.
“If there’s one thing my people know, it’s how to preserve things,” Smith told her. “My grandfather used to wrap his hunting rifle in deerskin and leave it in the top of the trees when hunting season was out. He’d come back months later and it was fine. Would have lasted a hundred years, easy.”
Iris pulled out the hide-wrapped package and started unwrapping it.
“More than a hundred years ago, my great-grandfather met a man named Cisco Ramon.”
Iris’s jaw dropped at Cisco’s name. She couldn’t move. Smith’s piercing black eyes held hers for an extended moment.
“Keep unwrapping. The story in my family is that Cisco was from the future. I always thought that sounded a little hinky, but we live in a strange world, so who knows? Anyway, Cisco gave old Ohiyesa what’s in this bag and asked him to hand it down through his family, until this date, at which point it was to be delivered to this place. To you.”
Iris finished unwrapping the package. It was a cell phone. And just as Smith had promised, just like his grandfather’s hunting rifle, it was in terrific condition.
“I . . . Thank you, Marshal. I’m sorry I made you wait. I didn’t know.”
Ohiyesa Smith clucked his tongue. “I’m just glad to cross this off my list. I’ve been hearing about this since I was a kid. Always knew there was a chance I’d be the one to deliver it. I can’t say I cotton much to being an errand boy, but I’m told it’s for a good cause.”
“It is,” Iris said, staring down at the phone. It was Cisco’s, all right. She recognized the tattered remains of the Star Wars sticker he’d affixed to the back. He had applied it new three days ago, and now it was more than a century old. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank you so much.”
37
The skies over Smallville slowly began clearing as the day wore on. Barry and Oliver worked with Alex’s team of DEO agents to return the evacuees. One kid—maybe twelve, maybe thirteen—turned to Barry after the Flash had deposited him safely at home, and said, “I haven’t seen anything about you on the Internet. You’re so cool!”
Barry grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks.”
“Can you teach me how to run fast?” the kid asked eagerly. “I’m super-slow and I’m always late to everything.”
It helps if you get hit by lightning and doused in chemicals, Barry thought but didn’t say. The last thing he needed was the youth of Earth 38 going around with car batteries and chemistry sets, trying to replicate his powers.
“Believe it or not,” he told the kid, “I’m always late, too. It’s not about when you arrive—it’s about what you do once you’re there.”
• • •
Later, they all gathered at the Kent Farm. All meaning Oliver, Barry, Brainy, Lena, Alex, and J’Onn. Superman was still at his Fortress, having messaged back a few hours earlier that Kara was in stable condition and would recover.
“History records that Supergirl died on this day,” Brainy said with mingled shock and disbelief in his voice.
“History was wrong,” Oliver said.
“It’s not the first time,” Barry said, thinking of Flashpoint. He had never felt more relief and gratitude in his life.
There were still remnants of Anti-Matter Man adrift in the air and scattered around Smallville, each one composed of potent anti-matter that could cause deadly explosions and toxic leakage. Lena and Brainy developed a special energy cage to contain those fragments, and there was a team of DEO agents scouring the ground and sky to collect them all. Eventually, the red sky over Smallville would dissipate and the days would be clear once more. J’Onn had already flown Lena and Brainy’s breach-closing device into the sky and shut down the breach to Earth 27. They were safe. The threat from the antiverse was defeated.
And for now . . . they needed a break.
J’Onn proved surprisingly adept at the farm’s old-fashioned stove, turning out a series of omelets and hash browns for the starving crew. Barry reminded himself to eat slowly, lest he polish off everything in sight before anyone else could get a forkful in their mouth.
“Best eggs I’ve ever had,” Oliver admitted.
“The Kents were known for their poultry products,” Alex told them. “Something about county fairs and blue ribbons. I never paid much attention. But . . .” She fixed Barry with a glare and went on:
“But when I ask you for a sitrep, I expect to get one, buster.”
“That became dark very quickly,” Lena observed.
“Sorry, Alex. I was trying to protect you.”
“Good thing Superman got there when he did,” Oliver commented. “It was touch and go.”
“Thank you for your sensitive appraisal of the situation,” Alex said sarcastically.
With a shrug, Oliver said, “I call them as I see them.”
“If I may interrupt with a . . . pragmatic matter,” Brainy said. “While we may have eliminated the threat of Anti-Matter Man, there is still the issue of how he was released. And why.”
Barry nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “He attacked here, but thanks to J’Onn we know now that he was being controlled by someone in the future.”
“The far future,” Oliver put in.
“The really, really far future,” Lena said, chewing through her eggs. “It’s mind-boggling in a way I have trouble even imagining.”
Barry had been to the sixty-fourth century, but even that seemed like a mere tomorrow compared to the end of Time itself.
“The best defense is a good offense,” said Oliver. “If someone at the end of Time is our enemy, then it’s time for us to stop waiting for him to attack . . .”
“. . . and make a move of our own,” Alex agreed. “But how?”
Barry grinned. “I think I know some people who can help us . . .”
“I like your confidence,” said Oliver, “but do you care to let the rest of us in on the secret?”
“One moment.” Brainy suddenly stood, ramrod stiff. “I’m receiving a massive data download from the DEO. A security protocol I enacted when we first became aware of Anti-Matter Man.”
“What is it?” Alex demanded.
Brainy’s eyes fluttered for an instant, processing. “Enormous fluctuations in the quantum foam . . .” He grimaced and looked around the room, taking in their surprised expressions, painted with dread.
“It’s not over yet,” he told them.
38
Cisco was alive. Or had been, at least, more than a hundred years ago. A small part of Iris—a part she suppressed and smothered into silence with the busyness of each day—had known that there was always a chance that Cisco and Curtis had died in the explosion. Or been killed when they emerged from the time stream. But now she knew. They’d survived.
And now they had a date. A rough location.
More than that: They had a way to get Curtis and Cisco back.
“Felicity!” she shouted, striding into the Cortex. “Stop what you’re doing! We have another way!”
“Well, that’s good,” Caitlin said. “Because all we’ve done so far is read half the Wikipedia entry on time travel.”
“They make it sound so easy,” Felicity grumbled. “They’re not the ones with two people stuck in an unknowable past.”
“Not unknowable anymore.” Iris gently placed the phone on the console before them. “The battery probably died around 1900, but can you get this running again? We’ve got a time machine to build.”
Felicity’s eyes widened. “Is this a cell phone from the Wild West?”
“This is in fact a cell phone from the Wild West,” Iris said with satisfaction.
With a squeal of glee, Felicity snatched it up and ran to a workstation.
Cisco’s phone hadn’t survived 150 years entirely intact. Ohiyesa Smith and his family had taken good care of it, but that was still a long time to wait.
Felicity was able to disassemble it and pry out the necessary chips, which she then transferred to a new phone. Soon, they were playing a video. Cisco’s face loomed large on the screen.
“Hello, people of the twenty-first century!” he said, and Iris almost broke down at the sound of his voice. Caitlin grabbed her hand and squeezed.
Curtis poked his head in from the side. “Hello, everyone! The Wild West is fine. Wish you were here.”
“No, no,” Cisco said. “Wish we were there. So let’s get started.”
They watched the video twice, just to be sure. Cisco told them exactly where in his workshop the time-retrieval gear was stowed. He also said—three separate times, “This is a prototype. Be very careful with it! I’m not there to fix it if you break it!”
They recovered Danger Box 3C from the Dark Lab. It was smaller than you’d think for something containing so complicated a device. Composed of a light but strong alloy Cisco had stumbled upon while trying to figure out the best way to shield himself from the use of his own cold gun, it measured no more than a foot on each side. A deep gray in color, it iridesced in the light of the Cortex. A ten-digit mantissa keypad was mounted on the front.
Cisco had given them the passcode to the box in his video, and when Iris punched it in, the box’s lid opened without complaint. Within, they spied a handheld gadget that looked like a cross between a set of brass knuckles and a video game controller; it had red lights running around it. Connected to that by a set of thin cables was a mesh dome with more lights.
“So . . .” Felicity lifted the equipment out of the box very carefully, lest she rip out one of those fragile cables. “According to Cisco, now what?”
Caitlin skimmed the notes she’d taken during their re-watch of the video. “We need a ‘vibrational pattern match source.’” Her lips twisted in confusion for a moment, but then her eyes lit up. “The goggles! See? I knew it!”
She hauled the goggles out of her lab coat pocket and handed them over to Iris, who waggled them at Felicity.
Who shrugged.
“Yeah, OK, it can’t be any harder than soldering a motherboard, right? Give me some time with this stuff and we’ll see about getting the boys back.”
In less time than Iris feared, Felicity managed to connect Cisco’s Vibe goggles to the time-retrieval device. The welds were sloppy and ugly, but they held.
“So, it looks like you put the dome on your head . . .” Felicity said, miming donning a hat, “then slip this controller thing on your hand . . . And fire at will.”
All three looked at one another.
“Hey,” Felicity said, breaking the silence. “I put it together. I’m not wearing it and ending up in medieval Scotland or something. My hair needs way too much product to maintain this bounce and shine. No one’s Outlandering me.”
“Your confidence in your handiwork is palpable,” Iris deadpanned.
“Not my handiwork. That sucker is hardwired in there. But Cisco’s record isn’t exactly spotless, you know.”
Caitlin nudged Iris out of the way and picked up the device. “For God’s sake. I’ll do it.”
