That was his cue. He jetted down and seized the missile from the startled heroes. "Sorry, kid. I need it more than you." A twinge of guilt troubled his conscience, but, according to Rip, there was nothing else he could do. "Besides, it wasn't going to work. Trust me."
Clutching the stolen missile against his chest, he returned to the stolen fifty-two seconds. To his relief, he saw that Mister Mind was still frozen in place above the Time-Sphere, poised to attack. I did it, he realized. I made it back in time!
Barely.
"—rs!" the butterfly buzzed as the fifty-two seconds elapsed. Time resumed and Mister Mind came at them again. His feeding tube opened wide.
"Oh yeah!" Booster said, shouldering the weapon. "Take a byte out of this!"
He fired the self-propelled missile right up the giant insect's proboscis. Packed with lethal nanotech, C.O.M.P.U.T.O. (short for Cyber-cerebral Overlapping Multiprocessor Transceiver-Operator) delivered its lethal payload directly into Mister Mind's central nervous system. The butterfly screeched in shock as the unleashed nanites short-circuited his motor functions. His wings fluttered erratically. His legs and antennae twitched. The compound eyes bled a sticky green ichor. Vomit gushed from his feeding tube.
And he started to shrink....
Mister Mind shed mass and substance. His wingspan contracted. "What have you done to me? My brain is burning!"
How about that? Booster thought. That bug's not so indestructible after all. Keeping on the offensive, he flew at the shrinking butterfly, which now looked small enough to swat. He fired a force blast from his gauntlets, hoping to squash Mister Mind once and for all, but the weakened insect shrugged off the blast anyway. The flapping wings produced a gale that sent Booster tumbling head over heels through the air. So much for an easy victory, he realized; apparently even a miniature chronal butterfly was plenty tough. Figures.
Rip Hunter's voice came over the earpiece in his cowl. "Booster, get back here. There's no time to lose." Booster hesitated, not wanting to back down, but Hunter persisted. "Believe me, Booster. You can't beat him on your own. Not yet."
"Okay, okay," he gave in. "Here I come."
Returning to the Sphere, he found Hunter, Supernova, and Skeets waiting for him. Lacking the strength to levitate, the repaired robot was clutched between Hunter's hands. "Did you see that?" Booster enthused to the others. "You were right about that weapon. It really did a number on the big bad butterfly out there."
"Thank heaven for small favors," Hunter intoned solemnly. "But this isn't over yet. Don't underestimate a chronal butterfly. He may be diminished, for the moment, but he's still too powerful to be easily overcome. Given a chance, he'll soon be as formidable as ever."
"So what do we do now?" Supernova asked. New to the super hero biz, he seemed inclined to follow the other men's lead. "Are we out of tricks?"
Hunter shook his head. "That's up to Skeets." He held out the rehabilitated robot. "Skeets' casing was infused with Suspendium while it served as Mister Mind's cocoon. The shell also seems to contain trace elements of a unique golden alloy that I've only previously encountered in one other individual: a time-traveler known as Waverider." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I admit I'm not sure how the same substance ended up in Skeets."
“er, that’s kind or a GRUESOME story,” the robot said somewhat sheepishly. “I’d rather not get into it.”
Hunter didn't press the point. "In any event, I believe that Skeets' shell is the only object in the multiverse capable of containing Mister Mind, at least long enough to dispose of him properly. Unfortunately, we'll have to sacrifice Skeets to do so."
"Sacrifice?" Booster snatched the robot from Hunter's grasp. He cradled him protectively. "Forget that!" I'm not losing my friend again, he thought. Not after I've just got him back. "There's got to be another solution."
"It's the only way," the Time Master said sadly. "Unless we stop Mister Mind now, the whole multiverse is doomed."
“IT’S ALL RIGHT, MICHAEL,” SkeetS Said. “I’VE SHARED THAT MON-
STER’S THOUGHTS. I KNOW WHAT HE’S CAPABLE OF, WHAT HE WILL
00 to reality if he gets his way.” Cracks scarred the surface of his metal casing, “if we don’t do this, there won’t be anyone left to
MOURN ME.”
Booster felt a king-sized lump in his throat. Lifting his goggles, he wiped a tear from his eye. The robot was more than a just a sidekick; he was Booster's best friend. "You're a brave little toaster, you know that?"
“you’re the one who ought to be scared, sir,” Skeets said with a touch of his old attitude, “especially if you have to manage your career on your own FROM now on.” His optical sensors flashed cheekily. “EVERYONE KNDWS THAT I’M THE BRAINS OF THE OPERATION.”
Booster cracked a smile. "Hey, if it wasn't for me, you'd still be a glorified burglar alarm at the Space Museum." He reluctantly handed Skeets back to Hunter. "Okay, Rip. It's your play. What do we do now?"
Hunter produced a laser scalpel from a tool kit. "First we slice him in half."
By now, Mister Mind was the size of an ordinary Terran butterfly. His iridescent wings were frayed and tattered, but still intact, as he fluttered along the timestream, getting safely clear of World War HI. The distinctive markings on his wings now resembled a much smaller pair of spectacles.
"Ignorant primates!" the imago cursed Booster Gold and Supernova as the two heroes flew toward their foe. "Your kind should have never evolved. Once
1 have regained my strength, I will devour your entire phylum. The multiverse will belong to invertebrates alone!"
Wanna bet? Booster thought. He darted to the right of the malevolent butterfly, while Supernova went left, clutching both halves of Skeets' severed shell. Booster had been both pleased and chagrined to discover that his ancestor had also been a washed-up ex-football champion in his day. He gambled that Mister Mind was too much of an intellectual to recognize a Hail Mary play when he saw one. "If I were you, I wouldn't brag about being spineless!"
He charged at the butterfly, then reversed direction at the last minute, confusing his foe. There was intense flash of light as Supernova teleported himself directly behind the distracted insect. He slammed the two halves of Skeets together, trapping the chronal butterfly inside his former cocoon. A powerful adhesive, procured by Rip Hunter during his travels, sealed the pieces together. "Got you!" Daniel exclaimed.
But just catching Mister Mind in the shell wasn't enough. Already the golden carapace was shaking like a Mexican jumping bean as the imprisoned butterfly tried to break free. Supernova struggled to hold onto the squirming ovoid as he drew back his arm, getting ready to throw the ultimate forward pass. A wormhole opened up in front of him.
"Go long!" he shouted.
He snapped the bomb, sending it hurling down the timestream. According to Hunter, they needed the cocoon to build up enough reverse chronal energy to devolve Mister Mind back into his larval form. That meant throwing it back in time at least a year.
Booster poured on the speed, diving through the wormhole just ahead of the cocoon. As he flew backward through the last fifty-two weeks, images from Mister Mind's own time line flashed past him:
The firefight in the Fortress of Solitude.
Toppling the bottle city of Kandor.
Trapping Daniel in that time-loop.
Chatting with Clark Kent at Booster Gold's funeral.
Watching Booster "die" when the nuclear submarine exploded.
Booster's exposure as a fraud.
The faked fight with "Manthrax."
Finding Rip Hunter's desert hideout.
Almost getting Booster killed by that falling jet.
Beaming inside Skeets for the first time.
Spotting the robot—the perfect cocoon—on Doctor Sivana's TV set.
Looks like the end zone to me, Booster decided, as Fawcett City appeared before him. Booster touched down on the roof of Sivana's hidden laboratory, which he had previously visited as SupemOva. He remembere
d the empty cocoon he had found on that previous expedition, and kicked himself for not figuring out then that Mister Mind was the real menace all along. Looking upward, he spotted the golden shell arcing toward him. He stepped backward, his eyes on the ball. His hands sweated inside his gloves. Don't fumble this play, he told himself nervously. The whole game depends on it.
The falling orb smacked into his open palms. He caught onto it and didn't let go.
Yes! he cheered himself. Touchdown!
He spiked the robot into the rooftop—and a tremendous burst of chronal energy flung him away from Fawcett City, all by himself. The butterfly! he thought frantically losing track of the metal cocoon. What happened to Mister Mind?
Week One.
The tiny green caterpillar found himself trapped inside a clear plastic cylinder, about the size of a Quaker Oats container. A lamp installed in the container's lid bathed the captured larva in an unearthly blue light. The Sus-pendium radiation stimulated the caterpillar's stalled metabolism, marking the beginning of a long metamorphosis.
No! Mister Mind realized. I'm right back where I started!
Doctor Sivana's hideous face, thousands of times larger than that of his minuscule specimen, peered through the transparent walls of the container. He flashed a buck-toothed grin. "Science always trumps magic. Isn't that right, my little friend?"
No more than three inches long, Mister Mind wriggled helplessly inside the tube. He knew what was going to happen next—and how it would all turn out in the end.
It's not fair, he thought. I zvas going to consume the universe!
"So that's it?" Supernova asked. "He's stuck in a time-loop, just like I was?"
"Exactly," Rip Hunter explained, manning the controls of the Time-Sphere. "He'll keep reliving the same fifty-two weeks, over and over again. Always suffering the same defeat in the end."
"Thanks to us," Booster said, with a bitter edge to his voice. After the chronal explosion, he had found himself back in his own past, where the Time-Sphere easily located him. Now they cruised through the multiverse en route to the present.
Hunter turned toward his passengers. "You realize, of course, that no one can ever know what just transpired. The secret of the multiverse, that there are now fifty-two parallel universes, is too dangerous to let fall into the wrong hands. Especially for the core Earth, Earth-One. The stability of the entire multiverse is intrinsically linked to our Earth, making it a prime target for every evil force in creation if they ever discover how important it is." He eyed them both suspiciously, as if wondering whether he could truly trust them to keep their mouths shut. "Before I return you to your own Earth, you both have to swear to me that you will never divulge the true meaning of fifty-two."
Booster scowled. "That sucks, big time. The whole freaking ball of wax gets saved from certain destruction and no one will ever know about it? Or who the real hero was?"
"It's not about fame or glory, Booster." Hunter frowned at Booster, obviously disappointed in the other man. "I thought you understood that by now. We saved the multiverse. So what if you can't take credit for it?"
"I'm not talking about me,” Booster said passionately. "I'm talking about Skeets. He sacrificed himself for all of us. People ought to know that."
"We know, Booster." Supernova laid a hand on his descendant's shoulder. "That will have to be enough."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Rip Hunter smiled enigmatically He extracted a tiny crystalline wafer from his pocket. "I hung onto this memory chip when I put Skeets back together. It won't be easy, but I might be able to reconstruct his artificial intelligence eventually."
"You bet you will!" Booster said, feeling a renewed sense of hope. One way or another, he was going to get his friend back again. "I guess we really did win one for the chipper!"
Supernova groaned. "Maybe you'd better let me handle the jokes from now on."
The Time-Sphere slowed to a halt. Metropolis—the real Metropolis—shimmered into view. This looks like our stop, Booster thought. Now that Mister Mind had been defeated, and history set right again, he looked forward to showing the whole world that Booster Gold was alive and kicking. He was going to have a rough time rebuilding his reputation, after doing such a thorough job of trashing it, but he felt certain that he could make it to the top once more. Who knows? Maybe Supernova can put in a good word,for me?
"Welcome home," Rip Hunter said.
GOTHAM CITY.
Mallory lifted her stethoscope from Kate's chest. "It's better," the doctor conceded. "I still think it's a miracle you're still alive, after what that crazy cult leader did to you." She scowled at the memory of Kate's near-fatal stabbing. "Another half an inch and the blade would have severed your aorta."
"Just lucky, I guess." Kate smiled weakly at the doctor as she leaned against the headboard of her sickbed, propped up by plump feather pillows. The penthouse bedroom bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a hospital room, but it was a distinct improvement from the intensive care unit where she had spent the last four weeks. Painkillers and fresh dressings were stacked atop the bed stand.
Luck and a convenient sheet of pseudoderm, Renee thought, standing by the door. Thank goodness it had occurred to her to use the adhesive Question mask to patch up the gaping knife wound in Kate's chest. The improvised skin graft had held long enough for the paramedics to arrive once Renee had dialed 911 on her cell phone. To her relief, the EMTs had gotten to the desecrated cathedral in record time.
"Well, take'it easy," Mallory insisted as she put away her stethoscope. "No more late-night costume parties for you." Like the paramedics, the doctor seemed to have bought Renee's spur-of-the-moment explanation for Kate's shredded Batwoman outfit. Said excuse was made more credible by the fact that sexy Batwoman costumes were apparently a hot item at novelty stores throughout Gotham. "I'm prescribing several months of serious bed rest."
Renee showed Mallory to the door. "Thanks again for the house call," she said sincerely. The pert blonde physician no longer provoked a jealous response from Renee. She and Kate were way beyond that now. "I'll take good care of her."
Returning to Kate's room, she found the restless patient sitting up at the edge of the bed. "Whoa there. You heard what the doctor said. You've got to stay off your feet."
"But I'm already going stir-crazy," Kate protested. She tried to stand up, only to wince in pain. Frustrated, she reluctantly returned to bed. She glowered at the bandages on her chest. "Guess Gotham's going to have to do without Batwoman for awhile."
"Don't worry about that," Renee said. "Nightwing dropped by the other night to check on you. He told me that the Bat is back, bigger and badder than ever."
"Good to know," Kate admitted, relaxing a little. "But don't count me out yet." Her lovely face held a stubborn look. "This city hasn't seen the last of Batwoman."
"That doesn't surprise me one bit."
One of these days, Renee thought, I'm going to find out how you became Batwoman, and why it's so important to you. She respected Kate's reticence on the subject, but only so far. I've got to admit I'm curious.
Just like Charlie.
Tucked away inside her belt buckle, the faceless mask of the Question waited patiently. Tot had sent her a fresh supply, direct from Nanda Parbat. Renee had not hid her own face beneath the concealing pseudoderm since that night beneath the cathedral, but there were still plenty of questions out there waiting to be answered. Like, who would take over Intergang now that Boss Mannheim was dead? Where had Whisper and Abbot disappeared to? And what had become of Black Adam? Renee fully intended to find those answers someday. For now, though, she knew where she belonged.
"I'm here for you," she promised Kate. "I'm not going anywhere."
It looked like a beautiful evening outside, so she drew back the curtains and opened the window to let the warm spring air in. The Bat-Signal—the real one—shone in the night sky like a second moon, letting the entire city know that its legendary Dark Knight had returned. Rumor had it that Superman and Wonde
r Woman had also been spotted in Metropolis and Washington, D.C., respectively.
Sounds like the world's in good hands, she reflected. For a second, she yearned for a cigarette, but the craving swiftly passed. The booze and smokes and one-night stands were in her past now. After a long and arduous year, things were finally looking up once more.
It was about time.
Table of Contents
WEEK 5
WEEK 12
WEEK IB
1MEEK 24
WEEK 32
OOLONG ISLAND.
NAIMDA PARBAT.
WEEK 43
Greg Cox, 52 - The Novel
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